The Coffee Trader

22

During his brief period of exile, Miguel thought it best to avoid other Jews of the neighborhood. Their stares and whispers would only sour his victory. Men who had suffered temporary bans always hid themselves away in their homes until they were again free to go about their business. They lurked about like thieves, they closed their shutters, they ate their food cold.

Miguel had too much to do and hadn’t the luxury of hiding in his cellar for the day. He sent a note to Geertruid, telling her he wished to meet the next afternoon. He suggested the Golden Calf. That disgusting little place where they had first discussed coffee might not suit his taste, but at least he knew Geertruid’s cousin did not serve other Jews, and on the day of his cherem he wished for secrecy. Geertruid wrote back and suggested instead another tavern, one near the warehouses. As it promised to be equally obscure, Miguel sent his agreement.

After sending out letters to his agents, Miguel prepared a bowl of coffee and took a moment to think about his most pressing needs: how to raise five hundred guilders to complete the amount Isaiah Nunes required. Instead of obtaining the missing money, he might transfer to Nunes the thousand that remained to him at the very end of the week. Nunes would not notice, or he would not be able to speak of it until the beginning of next week. Being too cowardly to face Miguel directly when it came to such awkward things as debt, he would send a letter requesting the remaining amount, and then-since Miguel planned to ignore the request-he would send another note a few days later. Miguel would return a vague reply that would give Nunes some hope that the money was forthcoming at any moment. So long as he avoided running into his friend, he could extend the payment date for weeks before Nunes grew angry enough to threaten him with courts or the Ma’amad. Clearly this matter of five hundred guilders was not nearly so dire as he had led himself to believe.

In a much brighter mood, he indulged himself with a Charming Pieter pamphlet he had read only twice before. He had not even set the water for his second bowl of coffee to boiling before Annetje appeared from around the winding staircase, her head cocked at an impish angle Miguel mistook for lust. He had not been feeling amorous, but with a free morning before him, there was no reason why he could not summon some enthusiasm. Annetje, however, only wished to tell him that the senhora awaited him in the drawing room.

Why should she not summon Miguel to speak with her? She had never done so before, but Hannah could not see that there was anything improper in having friendly relations with her husband’s brother. Daniel would be at the Exchange, and he needn’t know anything of it, even if it were improper, which it was not. And of course she could count on Annetje’s silence. The maid, if she had betrayal on her mind, had far deeper wells from which to draw.

Miguel entered, dressed in his austere Dutch attire, and bowed slightly. His eyes were sunken and the skin below them dark, as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“Yes, senhora?” he said, in a voice that managed to be both weary and charming. “You honored me with a summons?”

Annetje stood behind him and grinned like a bawd.

“Girl,” Hannah said to her, “fetch me my yellow cap. The one with the blue stones.”

“Senhora, you have not worn that cap in a year’s time. I cannot say where it is.”

“Then you had better start looking,” she answered. She would hear about that later. Annetje would lecture her, tell her mistress it was wrong to speak to her so, threaten and tease her. But Hannah would face those problems when they arose. For now, Annetje would not dare disobey in front of Miguel.

“Yes, senhora,” she replied, in a convincingly subservient tone.

“It is best to give her a task so she does not spend her time at keyholes,” Hannah said.

Miguel took a seat. “She is a well enough girl,” he answered absently.

“I’m sure you know best.” Hannah felt herself redden. “I must thank you for taking the time to sit with me, senhor.”

“It is I who should thank you. Conversation with a charming lady will pass the time far more amiably than will books and papers.”

“I had forgotten that you have those things available to you. I had thought you must be sitting alone and in silence, but your learning frees you from dullness.”

“I’ve thought it must be terrible not to read,” he said. “Is it a loss you feel?”

Hannah nodded. She liked the softness in his voice. “My father thought learning improper for me and my sisters, and I know Daniel thinks the same, should we have a girl child, even though I have heard the rabbi, Senhor Mortera, say that a daughter may engage in learning for which the wife has no time.” She lifted her hand, to place it upon her abdomen, but then changed her mind. She had become conscious of growing big, of the swelling pressing against her gown, and while it was a sensation that usually comforted her, she did not want Miguel to think of her as nothing more than a woman growing big with child.

“They say it is not so among the Tudescos,” she continued, half afraid that she prattled like a fool. “Their women learn to read, and they are given holy books translated into the common tongue. I think that way is better.”

A strange thrill shot through her body, as though she had just thrown herself off a bridge or before a speeding cart. Never before had she dared to say such things aloud. Miguel was not her husband, of course, but he was her husband’s brother, and for now that seemed to her dangerous enough.

He stared at her. At first she thought she saw anger, and she pressed herself into her chair in preparation for the sting of rebuke, but she had misread him. His eyebrows raised slightly, a little smile upon his lips. She saw surprise, amusement too, and maybe even delight.

“I had never thought you had such opinions. Have you discussed them with your husband? He might very well permit some learning.”

“I have tried,” she told him, “but your brother does not wish to hear me speak on matters of which I know nothing. He asked how I can have an opinion on something of which I am entirely ignorant.”

Miguel erupted into a raspy laugh. “You cannot fault him for his logic.”

Hannah reddened, but after an instant she realized that Miguel mocked not her but Daniel, and so she joined him, and together they laughed at her husband.

“May I ask a favor of you?” she said, and then squirmed uncomfortably at the sound of her own words. She had thought to wait longer before mentioning it but found she grew impatient and nervous. Best to have it said.

“Of course, senhora.”

“May I once again try that coffee-tea you let me drink before?” What else could she do? She dared not steal any more of Miguel’s diminishing supply, and she had eaten all the fruit she’d taken. Besides, now that she knew that it was supposed to be a drink and not a food, she did not think there would be as much pleasure in grinding down the berries with her teeth.

Miguel smiled. “It would be my great pleasure, so long as you recall my request of your silence.” Then, without waiting for her reply, he rang the bell for Annetje, who appeared too rapidly to have been searching through Hannah’s trunks. She allowed her eyes to lock with Hannah’s, but Miguel alone spoke to her, reminding her of how to prepare the drink. When the girl left, Hannah could feel her face turn hot, but she was almost certain that Miguel did not notice-or that he was most adept at pretending not to notice, which was nearly as good.

Hannah burned in the heat of his attention. He smiled at her; he met her eyes; he listened when she spoke. This is what it would be like to have a husband who loved her, she thought. The women in stage plays must feel thus when they talked to their loves.

Still, she knew it was but fantasy. How long could she talk with him? How long before a clever man like Miguel recovered from his stumble and moved into his own house, leaving Hannah alone with her husband? Not alone, of course. There would be, God willing, her child, and her child-her daughter-would be her salvation.

“Were you to marry again and have children,” she asked, “would you allow your daughters to learn?”

“I must be honest with you, senhora, and tell you that I have never thought about it. I always assumed your sex cared nothing for learning and was happy to be spared the pains of study, but now that you tell me otherwise I would look at the matter with new eyes.”

“Then you and I are of a mind.”

After moving to Amsterdam, Daniel had been busy with his studies, learning the ancient tongue and the Law, and Hannah thought she should do the same. If she was a Jew, she should know what it meant to be a Jew. She could not know how her husband might respond to such a thing, but she had hoped he would warm to her display of interest. She considered the wording for days, playing out conversations in her mind. Finally, one Shabbat night, after they had engaged in the mitzvah of marital relations, she decided she should never find her sleepy and sated husband in a more receptive mood.

“Why have I not been taught the Law, senhor?” she asked.

There was only a vague hastening of his breath.

“I have thought,” she continued, speaking hardly above a whisper, “that I too might learn to read and understand Hebrew. And perhaps I might learn to read Portuguese too.”

“Perhaps you might learn to transform rods into serpents and to part the waters of the sea,” he had answered, rolling away from her.

Hannah lay there, afraid to move, gritting her teeth with anger and shame. He must have felt some remorse for dismissing her, for a few days later, when he returned home in the evening, he pressed into her hands two silver bracelets.

“You are a good wife,” he said to her, “but you must not wish for more than what belongs to a wife. Learning is for men.”

“It must be,” she now said to Miguel, “that learning is not forbidden to women, else the Tudescos would not allow it, for they have the same Law, do they not?”

“It is not forbidden,” Miguel explained. “I am told that there have even been great Talmudists among the ladies in times past. Some things belong to Law, and some things belong to custom. It is written that a woman may be called to the Law, but her modesty ought to forbid her from answering. But what is modesty?” he asked, as though puzzling out the question himself. “These Dutch-women know nothing of it, and yet they do not feel immodest.”

Annetje now arrived with the bowls of coffee. Hannah breathed in the scent and salivated at the thought of drinking. More than its flavor, she loved how it made her feel. If she had been a scholar, she would have been able to unravel any point of Law. Had she been a merchant, she could have outwitted any man upon the Exchange. Now, she again lifted the bowl to her lips and tasted the engaging bitterness, a taste, she realized, that made her think of Miguel. This is the taste of Miguel, she told herself: bitter and inviting.

She waited for Annetje, who flashed all sorts of knowing looks, to leave before she began to speak again. “May I ask you what happened between you and the council?”

Miguel opened his mouth in surprise, as though she had spoken of something forbidden, but he also appeared pleased. Perhaps he found her boldness exciting. How bold should she be?

“It is nothing of substance. There were some questions about business partners. Some on the council do not like the people with whom I trade, so they placed me under this cherem for a day as a warning. These are pretty questions from so pretty a woman.”

Hannah turned away so that he would not see her blush. “Do you suggest that a woman should not ask such questions?”

“Not at all. I delight in an inquisitive woman.”

“Perhaps,” she suggested, “you delight in an inquisitive woman in the same way you delight in defying the council.”

Miguel smiled warmly. “I think you may be right, senhora. I have never much cared for authority, and I love to see it challenged-be it the authority of a husband or the Ma’amad.”

Hannah felt herself redden again, but met his gaze all the same. “When you were married,” she asked, “did you love to see your wife challenge you?”

He laughed. “Most times,” he said. “If I am to be honest, I must say that I am as prone to grow comfortable in authority as any man. That is no reason why I should not be questioned, however. I might have followed my father’s example and never studied the ways of our race had I not thought this way, for it is what I love best about the teachings of the rabbis. Everything must be questioned and disputed, looked at from all angles, examined and held up to the light. The parnassim and men like-well, like many men I know-forget that. They wish to see things always as they are and never ask how they might be.”

“And is this the reason, your delight in challenge, why you were called before the Ma’amad? My husband tells me you have defiled Holy Law.”

“As I say, senhora, there is law and there is custom, and custom is often little more than a fable. So long as I tell the parnassim what they want to hear, all is well.”

“What they want to hear?” Hannah asked, permitting herself the slightest of smiles. “You lied to them?”

He laughed. “Only little lies. They do not want to hear important lies.”

“But is it not a sin to lie?”

“You tease me, senhora. I suppose it is a sin, but an insignificant one. A man of business lies all the time. He lies to put trades to his advantage or to construct circumstances just so. A man may lie to make his position look better than it is, or weaker than it is, depending on his goals. None of these are the same as lying in a way that may harm another man. These lies are merely the rules of business, and such rules surely apply when dealing with the Ma’amad.”

“But those rules would not apply to a woman speaking to her husband?” Hannah had meant only to clarify, but she realized the moment she spoke the words that they carried weight she had not intended.

“It depends on the husband,” Miguel answered pointedly.

Her stomach flipped in fear. She was going too far. “This difference between law and custom is very confusing,” she said quickly, hoping to return the conversation to safer matters.

“The Ma’amad is a political body,” he said. “Among the Tudescos, there are rabbis who give the Law to the politicians, but among us it is the other way. Sometimes they forget the glory of the Holy Torah; they forget why we are here, the miracle of our being living Jews rather than dead ones or living papists.” He took a final sip of his coffee and then set down the bowl. “I thank you for your company,” he told her, “but I must now go. I have an appointment to keep.”

“How can you have appointments while under the ban?”

He smiled warmly. “I am full of secrets,” he said, “just as you are.”

Maybe he knew everything after all-the church, the widow, everything. As she watched him go, she thought she must tell him. Regardless of the consequences, she must tell him. Then she could tell him about the widow too, and her life would be in his hands. As she sipped her drink, she considered that to have her life in his hands would not be so very terrible at all.

The first thing Miguel saw when he walked into the Singing Carp was Alonzo Alferonda, his squat form spread out toadlike on a bench, speaking quietly to a pair of low Dutchmen. He rose upon seeing Miguel and hurried over on his short legs. “Senhor,” he called out eagerly, “I am delighted to hear of your victory.”

Miguel looked around, though he was inclined not to worry about Ma’amad spies on a day when technically he was not a member of the community. “I hardly expected to see you here.”

“I should like to buy you a drink to celebrate your victory over the Pharisees.”

“Another time, perhaps. I’ve a meeting just now.”

“You run some errand of the coffee trade?” Alferonda asked.

“This coffee trade will be my undoing. Parido cornered me on the Exchange and demanded to know my dealings in coffee. I refused, and before I could turn my head I stood before the Ma’amad.”

“Oh, he’s a tricky one, but the greatest way to foil him will be for you to succeed in your business.”

Miguel nodded. “Let me ask you something, Alonzo. You know more about coffee than I do; you’ve been drinking it for years. I read in a pamphlet written by an Englishman that coffee suppresses the urges of the flesh, but I have been feeding some to my brother’s wife, and she seems rather animated by it.”

“Your brother’s wife, you say? Ho, Miguel, you are more of a rascal than I had thought. And I commend you, for she is a pretty thing, and now plump with child too, so you needn’t worry about unfortunate results.”

“I have no plans to cuckold my brother. I have problems enough. I only wonder if the coffee may be the difficulty with her.”

“You cannot cuckold a man whose wife you cannot get with child, but we’ll set that aside for the moment. I’d advise you not to put too much faith in those English pamphlets. Those people will write anything to sell their scribblings. Here is something I do know, however. When the queen of Sheba came to visit the court of Solomon, among the gifts she brought him was a great chest full of the most exotic spices of the East. That night, after the palace had gone to bed, King Solomon was so full of desire he forced himself on her.”

“I have heard the story,” Miguel said.

“Among the Turks it is said that the chest of spices included coffee berries, and it was this fruit that spurred his lust. I would feed your brother’s pretty wife no more coffee fruit unless you want to follow Solomon’s path.”

“Only in wisdom.”

“It is always wise to take a handsome woman when there will be no consequences.”

“I don’t know if I would say that it is wise to do so. Only desirable.”

“Then you admit it,” Alferonda said, poking his finger gleefully in Miguel’s chest.

Miguel shrugged. “I admit only in seeing beauty where there is beauty and finding it a sad thing when it is neglected.”

“Merciful Christ,” Alferonda shouted. “You’re in love.”

“Alonzo, you’re no more than a gossipy grandmother with a beard. Now, if you’re done inventing tales, I’ve business to tend to.”

“Ah, his other love, the Dutch widow,” Alferonda said. “I understand your haste, Lienzo. I would surely rebuff myself for her sake.”

Geertruid made her way through the crowd and smiled at Miguel as though she were hosting him at her own table. Miguel winced. Somehow he did not like the idea of introducing Geertruid to Alferonda; one illicit presence ought not to consort with another. “Good day, senhor,” he said, and started to pull away.

“Ho, ho!” Alferonda shouted after them. “Are you not going to introduce me to this lady?” He pranced forward to stand by Geertruid’s side. In a sweeping move, he lifted his wide hat from his head and bowed deeply. “Alonzo Alferonda at your service, madam. Should you find yourself in need of any assistance a gentleman can provide, I hope you will do no more than to summon your humble servant.”

“I thank you.” She smiled warmly.

“I’m sure the lady will sleep better tonight for having had the offer,” Miguel said, pulling her away.

“I should love to know more of her sleeping,” Alferonda shouted, but he didn’t follow.

“What charming friends you have,” she said as they took a seat. If she felt any embarrassment about her revelation of the previous night at the Brewers’ Guild feast, she did not show it.

“None more so than you.” He looked across the tavern and saw that Alferonda had left.

Geertruid took a small pipe from a leather sack and began to stuff it with tobacco. “Now,” she said, “on to business. Have you looked into getting our money returned?”

Miguel could hardly believe her. “I have hardly had time to tend to that matter. Have you no questions of how I fared before the council?”

She lit her pipe with the flame of the oil lamp. “I am sure you prevailed. I have faith in you. And you would not be in such good spirits had you not won the day. Now, on to the matter of my investments.”

Miguel sighed, angry that she was souring his victory with this peevishness about money. Why had he ever involved himself with this Dutchwoman with her secrets and stolen capital?

“I know we agreed to wait two weeks,” she told him, “but if you have no solution to our Iberian problems, we must get the money returned.”

Miguel refused to show his concern. “Madam, where is your adventurous spirit? I begin to suspect that you would rather see your money returned than you would the fortune it will bring you. You must have faith that I will sort out these small difficulties.”

“I don’t believe you will sort them out.” She shook her head slowly. With her face turned downward and her hair dangling just over her eyes, she looked like a mournful Madonna in a painting. Then she lifted her gaze and grinned. “I don’t believe you will sort them out,” she explained, “because I, silly woman that I am, have found our solution.”

Too much had happened in one day, and Miguel’s head had begun to ache. He put one hand to his brow. “I don’t understand you,” he moaned.

“Did I not love you so well, I would demand another five percent for doing your work, but I do love you, and we’ll let the matter pass. As they say, the good farmer makes his own rain. So while you were playing cat and bird with your foolish council, I found an agent of my own to work for our cause in Iberia.”

“You? You have sent an agent into the most pernicious nation on earth? Where did you find this person? How can we be certain he won’t betray us?”

“You needn’t fear.” She puffed on her pipe with obvious satisfaction. “I found him through my lawyer in Antwerp, a city, you know, that retains many ties to Spain. I’m assured he can be trusted with my very life.”

“Your life is in no danger, but you had better hope he can be entrusted with your wealth. If the Inquisition suspects he is a Jew’s agent, he’ll be tortured until he reveals all.”

“That’s the very beauty of it. He has no knowledge that he works for a Jew, only that he works for a delightful Amsterdam widow. He can’t betray what he doesn’t know, and his motions shall attract no suspicion, for even in his own mind he does nothing worthy of notice.”

She had been reckless to embark upon this plan without consulting him, but he could find no fault with her actions. Only a moment ago he had lamented his connection with her, but now he recalled well why he so loved this remarkable woman.

“You trust this man?”

“I’ve never seen him, but I trust my lawyer, and he says we may depend on him.”

“And what are his instructions?”

“The same as you have given the others.” She licked her lips slowly, as though paused in thought. “To secure agents in Lisbon, Oporto, and Madrid -men who will do our bidding to the letter, though in this case it will only be my bidding. These agents are to await my instructions and then purchase as directed at a particular time and place.” She studied Miguel’s face, attempting to register his mood. “You cannot object.”

He could not object. And yet, somehow, he did. “Of course not. I am only surprised. We had discussed that these plans were to be mine.”

Geertruid placed a hand on top of his. “Don’t feel unmanned,” she said softly. “I promise I think you as great as ever, but an opportunity arose that I had to seize.”

He nodded. “You were right to do it.” He continued to nod. “Yes, this is all very good.” Perhaps he had reacted too strongly. What did it matter whence the agent came? Geertruid, for all her faults, was no fool. Miguel sighed, tasting the cheap tobacco in the air and savoring it as though it were perfume. A thought suddenly flashed before him, and he stood up very straight. “Do you realize what has happened to us this moment?”

“What has happened?” Geertruid asked. She lounged lazily upon the bench like a satisfied whore waiting to be paid.

“We faced one obstacle, the one thing that stood between us and our riches, and we have just removed that obstacle.”

Geertruid blinked. “We must still set our agents in place and count upon them to do our bidding,” she said, as though she understood not the first thing of his own scheme.

“A mere formality,” Miguel assured her. “The Exchange Bank may as well give us unlimited credit, for we are already wealthy. We now only wait for the rest of the world to recognize what we now know.” He leaned over to her and placed his lips as close to hers as he had dared since the night she had rejected his kiss. He didn’t care about the cherem or Joachim or even that he had lost her money. Those were only details, and details can be managed. “We are already wealthy, madam. We have already won.”