‘So English people can have slaves, but if the slave walks away, the owner can’t force him back?’
‘Exactly.’
Barney could see that Ebrima was intrigued by this notion. Perhaps he dreamed of going to England and becoming a free man.
Then the conversation was interrupted. Both Carlos and Ebrima suddenly tensed and looked towards the entrance arch.
Barney followed their gaze and saw three people approaching. In the lead was a short, broad-shouldered man with costly clothes and a greasy moustache. Walking on either side of him and a pace or two behind were two taller men who appeared, from their inexpensive clothing, to be servants, perhaps bodyguards. Barney had never seen any of the three before but he recognized the type. They looked like thugs.
Carlos spoke in a carefully neutral tone. ‘Sancho Sanchez, good morning.’
‘Carlos, my friend,’ said Sancho.
To Barney they did not seem to be friends.
Aunt Betsy stood up. ‘Please, sit down, Señor Sanchez,’ she said. Her words were hospitable but her tone was not warm. ‘Let me get you some breakfast.’
‘No, thank you, Señora Cruz,’ Sancho said. ‘But I’ll have a glass of wine.’ He took Aunt Betsy’s seat.
His companions remained standing.
Sancho began a conversation about the prices of lead and tin, and Barney gathered that he, too, was a metal worker. Sancho went on to discuss the war with France, and then an epidemic of shivering fever that was sweeping the town, taking the lives of rich and poor alike. Carlos responded stiffly. No one ate anything.
At last Sancho got down to business. ‘You’ve done well, Carlos,’ he said patronizingly. ‘When your father died, rest his soul, I didn’t think you would be able to continue to run the enterprise alone. You were twenty-one, and you had finished your apprenticeship, so you were entitled to try; but I thought you would fail. You surprised us all.’
Carlos looked wary. ‘Thank you,’ he said neutrally.
‘A year ago, I offered to buy your business for one hundred escudos.’
Carlos straightened his back, squared his shoulders and raised his chin.
Sancho held up a hand defensively. ‘A low price, I know, but that was what I thought it was worth without your father to run it.’
Carlos said coldly: ‘The offer was an insult.’
The two bodyguards stiffened. Talk of insults could lead quickly to violence.
Sancho was still being emollient, or as near to it as he could get, Barney thought. He did not apologize for offending Carlos, but rather spoke forgivingly, as if Carlos had slighted him. ‘I understand that you should feel that way,’ he said. ‘But I have two sons, and I want to give them a business each. Now I’m prepared to pay you one thousand escudos.’ As if Carlos might not be able to count, Sancho added: ‘That’s ten times my original offer.’
Carlos said: ‘The price is still too low.’
Barney spoke to Sancho for the first time. ‘Why don’t you just build another furnace for your second son?’
Sancho stared haughtily, as if he had not previously noticed Barney’s presence. He seemed to think Barney should not speak until he was spoken to. It was Carlos who answered the question. ‘Like most industries in Spain, metal working is controlled by a “corporation”, somewhat like an English guild only more conservative. The corporation limits the number of furnaces.’
Sancho said: ‘The regulations maintain high standards and keep crooked operators out of the industry.’
Barney said: ‘And they ensure that prices are not undermined by cheap alternatives, I suppose.’
Carlos added: ‘Sancho is on the council of the Seville metal guild, Barney.’
Sancho was not interested in Barney. ‘Carlos, my friend and neighbour, just answer a simple question: what price would you accept for your business?’
Carlos shook his head. ‘It’s not for sale.’
Sancho visibly suppressed an angry retort and forced a smile. ‘I might go to fifteen hundred.’
‘I would not sell for fifteen thousand.’
