Tom Swan and the Head of St. George Part Five: Rhodes Read Free Page A

satisfied?’
    Swan nodded. ‘Completely so, messire.’ He tried not to roll his eyes.
    Drappierro’s chamberlain was a Phokaian Greek called Katzou. He shrugged at the news and opened a small chest and emptied it into Swan’s hat. He made no complaint, checked no document and asked for no validation, and Swan briefly considered a life of crime, but reminded himself that he would be trapped aboard the galley with his victims.
    He carried the antiquities to the main cabin, knocked and took them to Drappierro, who sat as he always did at the main table as if he, and not Fra Tommaso, was the captain of the vessel.
    ‘Ah!’ he said, looking up. His eyes held the kind of lust that Swan associated with old men and much younger women. He snatched the rings from Swan’s hand, looked at them for three deep breaths, and then took the helmet.
    Swan turned to go. At the rate of profit, a few more finds sold to Messire Drappierro would allow him to settle comfortably in Ancona and make babies with Violetta. He didn’t need the man to be polite – merely to pay.
    ‘Wait – Messire Suani.’ The Genoese ambassador raised his hand. ‘I am an abrupt man – I know it. But I see you have taste and some training – hence your friendship with Cyriaco. So – you saw the knight of the order at Monemvasia?’
    Drappierro’s abrupt conversational direction changes left Swan gasping like a fish. But he did his best, recovered and bowed.
    ‘Your Excellency no doubt refers to Fra Domenico?’ he asked.
    Drappierro waved. ‘That sounds right. A notorious pirate, albeit one who tends to favour my city.’
    Swan nodded carefully.
    ‘Young man, did you happen to note what the knight wore on his finger?’ asked Drappierro.
    Swan pursed his lips and decided on honesty. ‘A ring. Very early – possibly Hellenistic. The gem is a diamond.’
    Drappierro looked at him. It was the first time they had met eye to eye – Drappierro’s gaze burned like the look of a religious fanatic at devotions. ‘A diamond, you say?’ he said. ‘Why do you think so?’
    Swan eased himself into the cushioned seats against the stern windows. The winter sun reflected off the sea and on to the gleaming white ceiling of the cabin. The heavy deck beams were painted black and red in alternating succession, and the effect with the sun-dapple was stark and beautiful.
    Drappierro hadn’t invited him to sit, but Swan was not interested in standing like a servant for this man.
    ‘I’ve held it in my hand,’ Swan said.
    Drappierro leaned forward. ‘You have? Tell me of it in detail.’
    Swan smiled. ‘First, it is called “The Ring of the Conqueror”,’ he said. ‘It is Alexander’s signet ring.’
    Drappierro became so red in the face that Swan was afraid the man was going to have a seizure. ‘Messire? Do you need water?’
    Drappierro leaned back. ‘I have heard of this thing. How do you know it is the real ring?’
    Swan shrugged. ‘I do not know. But Fra Domenico believes it is, as did the Turkish corsair from whom he took it.’
    ‘By the saints – he had it from Khaireddin,’ Drappierro said. ‘It is the ring.’ His slightly mad eyes met Swan’s. ‘What’s carved in the jewel?’
    ‘Herakles,’ Swan said, in Greek. ‘His head, anyway!’
    Drappierro sighed. ‘Why didn’t I stop and look at it? Listen, Messire Suani. The Grand Turk wants that ring. Very badly. If I could give it to him, I could get any treaty I wanted. Perhaps even reclaim some of my losses from the infidel.’
    ‘Swan, messire. I am English.’ Swan nodded agreeably. ‘I suspect the knight would sell it – for a substantial sum. I heard him mention ten thousand ducats.’
    Drappierro frowned. ‘I will consider this. The man who brought me that ring would be … my friend.’ He settled his mad eyes on Swan. ‘In the East, my friends prosper. Cyriaco recommended you to me. See what you can do.’
    Swan decided that this had gone far enough – although he was