Overtime. Part 37

'We were telexed,' Marco said, and would undoubtedly have explained further had not Giovanni trodden on his foot. He had to get up and walk across the hall to do it; but Marco was trained to obey certain signals, and if one didn't use them it only confused him.

'We were just pa.s.sing,' Giovanni said, 'on our way back from the Archives; stopped off for a drink, happened to notice your name in the phone book, thought we'd drop in on the off chance you were in.' He looked about him. 'Nice place you have here,' he said. 'I wonder if you've ever considered whether you've got it adequately insured. We can offer you ...' Blondel shook his head. 'No point,' he said. 'In five days' time it gets burnt down. Not a stone left standing.'

'Mind you,' Blondel went on, 'every four days I move it back in time. That means I get to pay reduced rates, too. Handy.'

Giovanni looked at his brothers and shrugged. 'Anyway,' he said, 'this isn't entirely a social call.'

Blondel grinned. 'You amaze me,' he said.

'In fact,' Giovanni went on, 'we have some very serious business to discuss. You realise that you are in breach of your contract?'

'Oh yes?'

Giovanni nodded gravely. 'Clauses 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 and 20.'

'Really?' Blondel said. 'What's Clause 19 about, then?'

'There isn't one,' Giovanni replied. 'Originally it was your right to receive a duly audited account every financial year, but it got deleted.'

'Did it?'

'Yes.'

'I see.' Blondel poured himself another gla.s.s of mead, picked some beeswax out of it with his fingernail, and smiled. 'But I'm in breach of the rest of it, am I?'

'I'm afraid so,' Giovanni said. 'However -'

'That's very serious, isn't it?'

'It could be,' Giovanni replied, 'potentially. That's why -'

'If I was you,' Blondel purred, 'I'd sue.'

Giovanni blinked. 'You would?'

Blondel nodded vigorously. 'Too right,' he replied. 'Can't have people going about the place playing fast and loose with binding agreements, can we? No, bash on, that's what I'd do, and stand up for your rights.'

'Um ...'

'In fact,' Blondel said, 'there's no time like the present, is there? Now it so happens,' he said, standing up and taking down a sword and a shield from the wall, 'that this castle is within the jurisdiction' - he swung the sword in his hand to check the balance; it pa.s.sed - 'of the Supreme Court of the Barony of Nesle, of which I' - he tested the point, swore, and licked his finger - 'am hereditary Chief Justiciar. Normally, there's quite a backlog of cases, but just at present I think we could fit you in. Trial by combat, naturally.'

Giovanni swallowed hard. 'Combat,' he repeated.

'Absolutely,' Blondel replied. 'We tried the other way, but we kept on coming back to combat. Quicker, cheaper, and above all, fairer; not to mention a d.a.m.n sight less traumatic for the partic.i.p.ants. Would you like me to lend you a shield? You seem to have come out without one.'

'Actually,' Giovanni said, 'perhaps we ought to try a little without prejudice negotiation. I find litigation positively counter-productive sometimes, don't you?'

'Ah yes,' Blondel replied, making his choice from a rack of double-bladed battle-axes, 'but that's because you've never had the advantage of the Nesle judicial system. No, I think a couple of bouts ought to' - he weighed two maces, picked the heavier one and put the other back - 'get this business knocked on the head - if you'll pardon the expression - in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Here, catch!' He tossed a helmet to Giovanni, who dropped it with a clang. 'Up to you,' Blondel said, putting on his own helmet and feeling the edge of his axe. 'Helmets are optional, and I can understand your feeling nervous, what with Mr Goodlet being in the same room. Shall we make it best of three, do you think? Or would you prefer sudden death?'

Giovanni made a small, whimpering noise and looked round at his brothers for support. They weren't there. They were right behind him, hiding.

'Alternatively,' Blondel said, removing his helmet and putting down his axe on a handy coffee table, 'we could forget all about the contract. I mean, we all trust 'each other, don't we? Nod if you agree.'

The Galeazzo brothers nodded in perfect unison, like a miniature Cerberus in the back window of a Vauxhall Cavalier.

'Glad you think so, too,' said Blondel. 'You wouldn't happen to have it with you, by any chance?'

Marco put his feet carefully out of Giovanni's way and said 'Yes.' He went on to explain that it was in Giovanni's briefcase, inside an envelope marked Tax Returns 1232/3, and would have enlarged on the theme had not his brothers put a helmet on his head, the wrong way round, so that the neck-guard obstructed his mouth. By then, however, the contract was on the fire.

'Now then,' Blondel said, 'I think it's time for some food.'

Giovanni was looking at the contract curling up on the fire. It was possible that he might have felt similar sensations of loss and sadness for the death of his grandmother; but the theory would be hard to prove, given that he'd sold her to Barbary slavers hundreds of years earlier, and since then they'd lost touch. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.

'Right,' he said. 'Well, I think we've now established a forum for negotiations leading to a new contract ...'

Blondel turned round slowly and looked at him. 'You think so,' he said.

'Absolutely,' Giovanni replied. 'I mean,' he added, and his will to profit battled briefly with his instincts of self-preservation; the will to profit won. 'Perhaps a little fine-tuning of some of the clauses might be called for, what with the pa.s.sage of time and changes in circ.u.mstances; but what the h.e.l.l, Blondel, you're still an artist, and artists need agents. Now then...'

'Just for that,' Blondel said, 'you get a double helping of mashed potato.'

Giovanni looked wounded. 'You disappoint me,' he said. 'I think we can do business together. After all,' he said, 'you'd be interested in finding the Chastel des Larmes Chaudes, now wouldn't you?'

Blondel gave him a long look. 'You're bluffing,' he said.

'Maybe.'

'You don't know where the Chastel des Larmes Chaudes is, any more than I do.'

Giovanni smiled. 'True,' he said. 'But I know where they bank.'

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Guy eating a few stale peanuts he'd found in a deserted finger-bowl. Finally Blondel stood up and walked about the room for a while.

'Where they bank...' he said.

'Absolutely,' Giovanni said. 'After all, it's a fundamental rule of nature. Everybody banks somewhere.'

'Oh yes?' Blondel replied. 'What about ...' He tailed off.

'What about?' Giovanni repeated.

Blondel suddenly grinned. 'I was trying to think of an example,' he said, 'and I couldn't. All right, then, tell me how you know where the Chastel des Larmes Chaudes banks.'

Giovanni shook his head. 'I wasn't born yesterday,' he said. 'We've got to have a contract first.'

Blondel sighed. 'Have it your own way, then. Even when I've found out where their bank is, how does that help me find them?'