The Baroque Cycle - The Confusion Part 7

"In Paris, Jack has a reputation," put in Vrej Esphahnian. "There is a Duke there who does not love our Jack ever since he crashed a party, strangled one of the guests, chopped off the hand of the Duke's first-born son and heir, and made a spectacle of himself in front of the Sun King."

"Then perhaps this Duke got wind of Jack's misadventures on the high seas," Dappa said, "and began to make inquiries."

"Well, as a lost Janissary, recovering from a grievous head injury, I know nothing of such matters," Jack said. "But if it will help our chances, by all means let it be known that information as to the whereabouts of Ali Zaybak is to be had-if the duc d'Arcachon will only invest in the Plan."

Book 5

The Juncto.

Chateau Juvisy.

10 DECEMBER 1689.

AFTER C CARDINAL R RICHELIEU HAD RECOGNIZED, and Louis XIII had rewarded, the genius of Monsieur Antoine Rossignol, he had built himself a little chateau. In later years he had hired no less a gardener than Le Notre to fix up the grounds. The chateau was at Juvisy. This had made sense at the time, as the King's court had been in Paris, and Juvisy lay just outside of it. and Louis XIII had rewarded, the genius of Monsieur Antoine Rossignol, he had built himself a little chateau. In later years he had hired no less a gardener than Le Notre to fix up the grounds. The chateau was at Juvisy. This had made sense at the time, as the King's court had been in Paris, and Juvisy lay just outside of it.

When the son of Louis XIII had moved his court to Versailles, the son of Antoine Rossignol-who had inherited Antoine's chateau, his knowledge of crypta.n.a.lysis, and his responsibilities-had found himself exiled. He He had not moved, but the center of power had, and Juvisy had all of a sudden begun to seem like a remote outpost. Another man might have sold the place at a loss, and built a new chateau somewhere around Versailles. But Bonaventure Rossignol had been content to remain in the old place. His work did not require continual attendance at Court. If anything, the distance, and the peace and quiet that came with it, made him more productive. had not moved, but the center of power had, and Juvisy had all of a sudden begun to seem like a remote outpost. Another man might have sold the place at a loss, and built a new chateau somewhere around Versailles. But Bonaventure Rossignol had been content to remain in the old place. His work did not require continual attendance at Court. If anything, the distance, and the peace and quiet that came with it, made him more productive. Le Roi Le Roi had ratified the younger Rossignol's decision by coming to visit him at Juvisy from time to time. In its smallness, its seclusion, and the prim perfection of its walled garden, the chateau at Juvisy seemed to Eliza like a perfect little kingdom of secrets, with Bon-bon its king, and Eliza its queen, or at least concubine. had ratified the younger Rossignol's decision by coming to visit him at Juvisy from time to time. In its smallness, its seclusion, and the prim perfection of its walled garden, the chateau at Juvisy seemed to Eliza like a perfect little kingdom of secrets, with Bon-bon its king, and Eliza its queen, or at least concubine.

The garden was of an altogether different style from what Le Notre had done at Versailles, being, of course, much smaller, with fewer sculptures. But it had in common with the King's garden that it was made to look splendid when seen from the high windows of the chateau, which was how Eliza was seeing it. Bon-bon's bedchamber was on the upper storey, in the center of the building, so that when Eliza climbed out of his bed she could walk three paces over a cold floor and stand in a dormer and gaze straight down the path that formed the garden's axis. Of course the plantings were dead and brown now, but the curlicues of its sculpted hedges still drew her eye, and gave her something to stare at while she began to answer a question that Bon-bon had just asked her.

He wanted to know, in effect, what the h.e.l.l she was doing here. For some reason the question irked her a little bit.

She had showed up exhausted and dirty last night, with no thought of doing anything save putting Jean-Jacques to bed somewhere, and then collapsing into some bed of her own and sleeping for a few decades. Instead she'd been up half the night making love to Bon-bon. Yet she felt more awake, more refreshed now than if she'd spent the same amount of time slumbering. And so perhaps what she had taken for tiredness, yester evening, had been some other condition.

He'd had the good grace not to inquire what was going on. Instead he had accepted, with grace and even humor, the sudden arrival of Eliza and her entourage at his gates. She'd liked it that way, and she'd liked what had happened after. But now that the sun was up and they had gotten the s.e.x out of their systems, there was this tedious need to explain matters. Certain parts of her mind had to be woken up, and were not happy about it. She stared at the dead garden, tracing the patterns of the hedges with her eyes, and mastered her annoyance.

"You had mentioned in a note to me that you contemplated a journey to Lyon," Rossignol said, trying to prime the pump. "That was six weeks ago."

"Yes," Eliza said. "The journey to Lyon took ten days."

"Ten days! Did you walk?"

"I could have done it faster by myself, but I was traveling with a five-month-old. The train consisted of two carriages, a baggage-cart, and some outriders and footmen borrowed from Lieutenant Bart and from the Ozoirs," Eliza said.

Rossignol grimaced. "Unwieldy."

"The first twenty miles were the most difficult, as you know."

"Dunkerque is scarcely connected to France at all," Rossignol agreed.

"Have you been to Lyon?"

"Only a little, pa.s.sing through en route to Ma.r.s.eille."

"And did you find it strangely bleak and austere compared to Paris?"

"Mademoiselle, I found it bleak and austere even compared to the Hague!"

Eliza did not laugh at the witticism, but only turned her back on the window, for a moment, to regard Rossignol. He was propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, exposed to the chilly air from the waist up. The man burned food like a forge burned coal, and never grew fat, and never seemed to feel cold.

"That is because you have no regard for commerce. I found it most interesting."

"Oh. Yes, I know about that," Rossignol conceded. "The great crossroads where the Mediterranean trades with the North. It sounds as if it ought to be interesting. But if you go there, you see only warehouses and silk-factories, and tracts of plain open ground."

"Of course it seems boring if all you do is look at it," Eliza said. "What renders it interesting is to take part in what goes on in those boring warehouses."

Rossignol's black eyes strayed to some papers resting on a bedside table. He was already regretting having asked her to explain this, and was hoping she'd make it quick.

Eliza stepped over to the side of the bed and swept the papers off onto the floor. Then she got a knee up on the bed and crab-walked across it until she was straddling Rossignol, sitting down firmly on his pelvis. "You asked," she reminded him. "and I have got an answer for you, which you are going to listen to, and what is more, by the time I am finished, you will confess that it is interesting."

"You have my attention, mademoiselle," said Rossignol.

"Lyon. I suppose they used to hold sprawling country-style fairs there, two hundred years ago. It was colonized, you know, by Florentines hoping to make fortunes selling goods to this wild northern place called France. There are still fairs, four times a year, but it is not so rustic. It is more like Leipzig now."

"That means nothing to me."

"It means people standing in courtyards of trading-houses, screaming at each other, and trading goods not physically present."

"But the warehouses-?"

"Silly, the goods are not present in the trading-houses. in the trading-houses. But neither can they be terribly remote, for they must be inspected before and delivered after the sale. Much of the traffic on the streets is But neither can they be terribly remote, for they must be inspected before and delivered after the sale. Much of the traffic on the streets is commercants commercants going to this or that warehouse to look at a s.h.i.+pment of silks, herring, figs, hides, or what-have-you." going to this or that warehouse to look at a s.h.i.+pment of silks, herring, figs, hides, or what-have-you."

"That helps me to understand some of what was, to a gentleman, so incomprehensible about the place."

"You'd never guess that the place does more business than all of Paris. From the street it is desolate. You can die of loneliness or starvation there. It is not until you get inside the houses that you discover the inner life of the place. Bon-bon, all of the people who have been lured here by trade have created, behind their iron-bound doors and shuttered windows, little microcosms of the worlds they left behind in Genoa, Antwerp, Bruges, Geneva, Isfahan, Augsburg, Stockholm, Naples, or wherever they came from. When you are in one of those houses, you might as well be in one of those faraway cities. So think of Lyon as a capital of trade, and the streets around the Place au Change Place au Change as its diplomatic quarter, where the Jews, Armenians, Dutch, English, Genoans, and all the other great trading-nations of the world have established their emba.s.sies: shards of foreign territory embedded in a faraway land." as its diplomatic quarter, where the Jews, Armenians, Dutch, English, Genoans, and all the other great trading-nations of the world have established their emba.s.sies: shards of foreign territory embedded in a faraway land."

"What were you doing there, mademoiselle?"

"Buying timber for Monsieur le marquis d'Ozoir. I required some expert help. After I had been a week in Lyon, I was joined by my Dutch a.s.sociates: Samuel and Abraham de la Vega and their cousin. I had sent a letter to them before I left Dunkerque, for I knew they were in London. It had caught up to them at Gravesend. They had changed their plans and made direct for Dunkerque, which they pa.s.sed through five days after I had departed. As they pa.s.sed through Paris they enlisted their cousin, one Jacob Gold, and the three of them followed me down and encamped at the house of a man they knew there-a wholesaler of beeswax that he imports from Poland-Lithuania."

"Now I see why this thing took six weeks! Ten days to creep down to Lyon, a week to wait for all of these Jews to show up-"

"The delay was not a problem for me. It took me and my staff that long anyway to recover from the journey, and to set up housekeeping in Lyon. Monsieur le marquis d'Ozoir, bless him, had sent word ahead, and arranged for us to stay at the pied-a-terre pied-a-terre of someone who owed him a favor. Once we had established ourselves, I had begun to make contacts among the crowd who frequent the of someone who owed him a favor. Once we had established ourselves, I had begun to make contacts among the crowd who frequent the Place au Change. Place au Change. For I knew that the brothers de la Vega would spare no effort in ransacking the wholesale timber market and finding the best wood on the best terms. But their efforts would be of no use unless I had made arrangements for a bill of exchange to be drawn up, transferring the agreed-on sum from the King's treasury to whomever sold us the timber. Likewise we would need to strike a deal with the s.h.i.+pper, and to purchase insurance, For I knew that the brothers de la Vega would spare no effort in ransacking the wholesale timber market and finding the best wood on the best terms. But their efforts would be of no use unless I had made arrangements for a bill of exchange to be drawn up, transferring the agreed-on sum from the King's treasury to whomever sold us the timber. Likewise we would need to strike a deal with the s.h.i.+pper, and to purchase insurance, et cetera. et cetera. So even if the de la Vegas had arrived at the same time as I, they should have little to do for a few days. And the need to feed little Jean-Jacques posed the most absurd complications." So even if the de la Vegas had arrived at the same time as I, they should have little to do for a few days. And the need to feed little Jean-Jacques posed the most absurd complications."

It was a mistake to mention this, for now Rossignol's eyes drifted from Eliza's face down to her left breast. Earlier she had wrapped herself in a sheet, but this had slipped down as she wrestled with him.

"The de la Vegas invited me to visit them at the beeswax-warehouse where they were lodging."

Rossignol scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"It would have seemed a very odd invitation to my ears before I had gotten to know Lyon," Eliza admitted, "but when I reached the place, I found it to be perfectly congenial. It is on a meadow that rises up above the Rhone to the east of the trading district. They have more land than they need, and let it out to an adjacent vineyard. The growing season was over and so the vines were not much to look at, but the weather was fine, and we sat under a bower on the terrace of this stone building full of wax and drank Russian tea sweetened with Lithuanian honey. The daughters of the wax-magnate played with Jean-Jacques and sang him nursery-rhymes in Yiddish.

"To Samuel and Abraham de la Vega and Jacob Gold, I said that Lyon struck me as a very strange town."

"I could have told you that, mademoiselle," said Rossignol.

"But you and I think it is strange for different reasons, Bon-bon," said Eliza. "Listen, and let me explain."

"What of these Jews? What did they think?"

"They felt likewise, but had been reluctant to say anything. And so what I was trying to do, Bon-bon, was to get them talking."

"And so were these Jews responsive to your gambit, mademoiselle?" Rossignol asked.

"You are impossible," Eliza said.

SAMUEL DE LA V VEGA, at twenty-four, was the senior man present-for the elders of the clan had more important things to do. He shrugged and said: "We are here to learn. Please say more." at twenty-four, was the senior man present-for the elders of the clan had more important things to do. He shrugged and said: "We are here to learn. Please say more."

"I phant'sied you were here to make money, to make money," Eliza said.

"That is always the object in the long run. Whether we make a profit on this matter of the timber remains to be seen; but we have heard of this place and want to know more of its peculiarities."

Eliza laughed. "Why should I say more, when you have said so much? You come here not knowing whether it is possible to make money. It is a place you have heard of, have heard of, which is no great testimony to its importance, and you approach it as a sort of curiosity. Would you speak thus of Antwerp?" which is no great testimony to its importance, and you approach it as a sort of curiosity. Would you speak thus of Antwerp?"

"Let me explain," Samuel said. "In our family we do not recognize a profit-we do not put it on the books-until we have a bill of exchange payable in Amsterdam or (now) London, drawn on a house that maintains a well-reputed agency in one or both of those cities."

"To put it succinctly: hard money," Eliza said.

"If you will. Now, as we rode down here with Jacob Gold, he told us of the system in Lyon, and how it works."

Jacob Gold looked so nervous, now, that Eliza felt she must make some little joke to put him at ease. "If only I could have eavesdropped on you!" she exclaimed. "For yesterday at dinner at the home of Monsieur Castan, I was treated to a description of that same system-a description so flattering that I asked him why it was not used everywhere else."

They found this amusing. "What was Monsieur Castan's reaction to that?" asked Jacob Gold.

"Oh, that other places were cold, distrustful, that the people there did not know one another so well as they did in Lyon, had not built up the same web of trust and old relations.h.i.+ps. That they were afflicted by a petty, literal-minded obsession with specie, and could not believe that real business was being transacted unless they saw coins being physically moved from place to place."

The others looked relieved; for they knew, now, that they would not have to break this news to Eliza. "So you are aware that when accounts are settled in Lyon, it is all done on the books. A man seated at a banca banca will write in his book, 'Signore Capponi owes me 10,000 will write in his book, 'Signore Capponi owes me 10,000 ecus au soleil ecus au soleil'-a currency that is used only in Lyon, by the way-and this, to him, is as good as having bullion in his lock-box. Then when the next fair comes around, perhaps he finds himself needing to transfer 15,000 ecus ecus to Signore Capponi, and so he will strike that entry from his ledger, and Signore Capponi will write that he is owed 5,000 to Signore Capponi, and so he will strike that entry from his ledger, and Signore Capponi will write that he is owed 5,000 ecus ecus by this chap, and so on." by this chap, and so on."

"Some money must change hands though!" insisted Abraham, who had heard all of this before but still could not quite bring himself to believe it. He was fourteen years old.

"Yes-a tiny amount," said Jacob Gold. "But only after they have exhausted every conceivable way of settling it on paper, by arranging multilateral transfers among the different houses."

"Wouldn't it be simpler just to use money?" Abraham asked doggedly.

"Perhaps-if they had any!" Eliza said. Which was meant as a jest, but it stilled them for a few moments.

"Why don't they?" Abraham demanded.

"It depends on whom you ask," Eliza said. "The most common answer is that they do not need it because the system works so smoothly. Others will tell you that when any bullion does become available here, it is immediately smuggled out to Geneva."

"Why?"

"In Geneva are banks that, in exchange for bullion, will write you a bill of exchange payable in Amsterdam."

Abraham's eyes blossomed. "So we are not the only ones who are worried about how to extract hard money profits from Lyon!"

"Of course not! For that, we are competing against every other foreign merchant in Lyon who does not share the belief, common here, that entries in a ledger are the same as money," said Samuel.

"What kind of person would would believe such a thing, though?" Abraham asked. believe such a thing, though?" Abraham asked.

Jacob Gold answered, "The kinds of people who have been here for so long and who make a comfortable living off of those ledgers."

Eliza said, "But the only reason this system works is that these people know and trust each other so well. Which is fine for them. But if you are on the outside, as we are, you can't take part in the Depot, Depot, as this system is called, and it is difficult to realize profits." as this system is called, and it is difficult to realize profits."

Jacob Gold added, "It is fine for those who have the houses here, the land, the servants. They transact an enormous amount of business and they find ways to live well. The lack of hard money is only felt when one wants to cash out and move somewhere else. But if that is the kind of person you are-"

"Then you don't live in Lyon and you are not a member of the Depot, Depot," Eliza said.

"We can talk about this all day, going in circles like the Uroburos," said Samuel, clapping his hands, "but the fact is that we're here and we want to buy some timber for the King. And we don't have any money. But we have credit from Monsieur Castan who in turn has credit because he lives here and is very much a member of the Depot. Depot."

"Thank you, Samuel," Eliza said. "You are correct: people trust Monsieur Castan; when one of the other members of this Depot Depot writes in his ledger 'M. Castan owes me such-and-such number of writes in his ledger 'M. Castan owes me such-and-such number of ecus, ecus,' to them that's as good as gold. And what we need to do is turn that 'gold' into some timber arriving at Nantes."

"Thanks to Monsieur Wachsmann," said Jacob Gold, referring to our host, "we have some ideas as to where we might go and make inquiries about who has timber, and might be willing to sell it to us; but how do we actually transfer the money to them from the King's Treasury?"

"We need to find someone who is a member of this Depot Depot and who is willing to write in his ledger that the King owes him the money," Eliza said. and who is willing to write in his ledger that the King owes him the money," Eliza said.

"But that still doesn't get the money into the hands of him who sells us the timber, unless he is a member of the Depot, Depot, and I do not phant'sy that lumberjacks are invited," said Samuel. and I do not phant'sy that lumberjacks are invited," said Samuel.

"And it provides no way for us to realize a profit," Abraham, the ever-vigilant, reminded them.

Eliza reached out and pinched him on the nose to shut him up while she pointed out, "True, and yet wax, silk and other commodities are sold here in immense quant.i.ties, so there must be some way of doing it! And some do do realize hard money profits, as is proved by the covert transfers of bullion to Geneva!" realize hard money profits, as is proved by the covert transfers of bullion to Geneva!"

Monsieur Wachsmann was therefore brought in. He was a stolid gray-headed Pomeranian of about threescore years. They explained their puzzlement to him and asked how he he sold his goods, given that he was not a member of the sold his goods, given that he was not a member of the Depot. Depot. He replied that he had a sort of relations.h.i.+p with an important businessman in town, with whom he kept a running account; and whenever the account stood in Monsieur Wachsmann's favor, he could leverage that to get what he needed. The same would be true, he a.s.sured his visitors, of any timber wholesaler big enough for them to consider doing business with. He replied that he had a sort of relations.h.i.+p with an important businessman in town, with whom he kept a running account; and whenever the account stood in Monsieur Wachsmann's favor, he could leverage that to get what he needed. The same would be true, he a.s.sured his visitors, of any timber wholesaler big enough for them to consider doing business with.

"So a plan begins to take shape," said Samuel. "We will negotiate terms with a timber-wholesaler, denominated in ecus au soleil, ecus au soleil, never mind that they are a wholly fict.i.tious currency, and then take the matter to the never mind that they are a wholly fict.i.tious currency, and then take the matter to the Depot Depot and allow them to clear it on their ledgers. We end up with the timber; but is is possible for us to extract any profit?" and allow them to clear it on their ledgers. We end up with the timber; but is is possible for us to extract any profit?"

Monsieur Wachsmann shrugged as if this was not something he paid much attention to; and yet his estate showed that he had profited abundantly. "If you would like, you can route the profits to my account, and I will owe them to you, and we may plow these into later trades within the Depot, Depot, which may eventually turn into some material form, such as casks of honey, that you could sell for gold in Amsterdam." which may eventually turn into some material form, such as casks of honey, that you could sell for gold in Amsterdam."

"This is how people move to Lyon, and never leave," muttered Jacob Gold, combining in this one remark the Amsterdammer's amazement at Lyon's business practices with the Parisian's disdain for its culture.

Monsieur Wachsmannn shrugged, and looked at his chateau. "Worse fates can be imagined. Do you have any idea what Stettin is like at this time of year?"

"What about getting some bullion and running it to Geneva for a bill of exchange?" Abraham demanded. "Much quicker, and easier to carry to Amsterdam than casks of honey."

"There is a lot of compet.i.tion for the small amount of bullion that exists here, and so you will have to accept a large discount," Monsieur Wachsmann warned him, "but if that is really what you want, the house that specializes in such transactions is that of Hacklheber. They are at the Sign of the Golden Mercury, cater-corner from the Place au Change. Place au Change."

"Now, there is a familiar name," Eliza said. "I have been to their factory in Leipzig, and been ogled by Lothar himself."

"I have never heard of them," said Samuel, "but if this Lothar was ogling you it means he is not altogether stupid."