Act Ten: The True Knight (Part Seven)
seven
The two boys walked across half the city, climbing up and down, until they reached the edge of Kinmen.
“I didn’t know there was such a place in Constantinople…” Daoud, frightened, exposed the red cross on his black cloak to bolster his courage. “Who buys spices here?”
“If you don’t want to be under the control of the Imperial Guard, you have to come to places like this.” Nuk pulled him into the winding alleys. “The prices of everything here must be in accordance with the law. It’s illegal to sell spices at inflated prices.”
"Really?" Daoud pulled at his hand, refusing to move forward. "There's no such detailed law, you're lying to me!"
"You're clearly scared!" Nuk turned and glared at him. "You're a sergeant in the Knights Templar, what are you afraid of! Don't you want to make money?"
“I’m not afraid!” Daoud gripped his sleeve tightly. “Go ahead!”
Nuk chuckled and led him into a muddy puddle. Gradually, Daoud realized his companion was leading him downwards. "You're not going to sell me to the Black Arena, are you?!" Daoud yanked him hard. "I've heard the tyrannical Roma keep slaves who fought to the death underground for their amusement..."
"Roma?"
“…Romans,” Daoud reluctantly corrected his Arabic accent.
“The Romans stopped doing that a long time ago; they did much worse things.” Nuk stuck out his tongue. “They would just find a village, tell them they lived on Roman land, and then make them pay taxes every year.”
Daoud scratched his head. "...But what king doesn't do that?"
“The Romans were the first to do it, and all the other kings followed suit,” Nuke said. “Don’t you hate it?”
Daoud recalled the distressed faces of his parents when they were taxed and forced to pay their dues. "I hate it too," he said, clenching his fists.
That's why stock exchanges exist!
"Exchange?"
“Strict laws can regulate the price and taxes of all goods. But human desires are beyond the reach of even the strictest laws.” Nuk was clearly repeating something he had heard before. He pulled Daoud down a gloomy, dark staircase. “Only here can one glimpse the true nature of all things!”
A vast underground space unfolded before the naive servant, instantly revealing to him what the "Exchange" truly was—Dawood had never imagined such a sordid place could be so large and deep, teeming with such a diverse array of people. Greeks, Italians, Latins, Saracens—faces of all colors, genders, and ages moved about in a constant stream. The ground was filled with stalls and small shops, much like the Via della Signoria outside. He had expected such a place to be filled with horrific things, like bounties for murder, witchcraft, or bloody performances of dismemberment. But looking at the stalls, he saw only ordinary items: food and drinks, utensils and books, clothing and armor. Daowood even spotted an Indian selling parrots and a Seres selling silk; their faces were a rarity on the ground.
"This...this is the black market!" He was being dragged along by Nuk, who was holding his wrist. "I thought the black market only sold slaves and prostitutes!"
“Slaves and prostitutes too! They sell everything, even the robe you're wearing!” Nuk chuckled. “But these things aren’t around here; you have to go further. Want to go take a look?”
Daoud only then remembered that the conspicuous red cross on his uniform was exposed to everyone. Startled, he quickly covered the insignia with his tattered cloak. "I...I won't go! I have rules to follow!" the squire stammered nervously. "Take me to sell the spices, I won't do anything else!"
“I’m taking you there right now.” Nuk’s steps didn’t falter. “The auction area is over here. I’ll show you the ropes.”
After his companion's tireless explanation, Daoud roughly understood the divisions of the Constantinople "Exchange"—three types of illegal businesses circulated there: the first type was items prohibited from sale, including the terrifying things he had imagined would be found in the black market, such as knightly robes, counterfeit currency and documents, and military supplies leaking from the army; the second type was items for which the emperor levied high taxes and items prohibited from private trade, such as smuggled silk robes, metal ores, and contraband salt and liquor; the last type was what Daoud needed, but which he couldn't understand.
“That’s not how it works where I’m from.” He kept scratching his ear. “Since we haven’t underpaid taxes and there’s no ban on buying and selling, shouldn’t the merchants decide how much to sell their goods for?”
“It’s not like that in Constantinople,” Nuk said, scrutinizing his appearance. “Everything must be sold at the price set by the emperor.”
"What's the benefit of doing this?" Daoud was extremely puzzled. "It's troublesome and restrictive."
“Right? That’s why we have this last section.” Nuk led him to a hall that was neither too big nor too small. “Things that are rare should be sold at a higher price, and things that are plentiful should be sold at a lower price.”
Daoud was being dragged along when his face bumped into the sweaty back of a stranger. He then realized the hall was packed with people, smoky, dark, and cramped. A tiny skylight let in intermittent light from above, illuminating only the dust and heat swirling in the air—Daodud then realized how filthy and stifling the place was, and was about to pinch his nose when—the air was filled with the luxurious scent of spices, and everyone smelled wonderfully fragrant.
Before the man who had been hit could even turn around, Nuk had already pulled him to a corner and climbed onto a high railing. "That man is a friend of Lord Jubius, a notary," Nuk whispered in his ear. "He has some bad habits, don't go near him!"
"What kind of bad habits?"
The two boys whispered amongst themselves for a while, then both made nauseous faces. "Alright, let's get down to business," Nuk patted his back, gesturing for him to look towards the center of the hall. "There are two types of auctions. One is from low to high bids, suitable for high-priced items; the other is from high to low bids, suitable for low-priced items," the shrewd servant rattled off. "The spices you have are a rare commodity, and they've been fetching high prices at auction lately."
Daoud had encountered so many new things today that his head was already half-dizzy. "...You know so much! You must have made a lot of money here!" the ignorant servant said with a mixture of envy and jealousy. "Where did you learn all that?"
“I can’t tell you that,” Nuk said with a smirk. “Just listen to the price!”
Daoud roused himself and looked down at the bustling crowd. A man with a booming voice was shouting from the front. "Next, Pepper!" he banged on the table with a stick to quiet the crowd.
The servant nervously clutched the small package inside his robe.
"Starting at six deniers per pound, ten pounds available here today!"
The price hit Doud like a boulder of happiness, making him instantly dizzy with excitement—it was almost four times the price on Lord Yakov's ship! Even selling just that small packet of pepper would be enough to break even! The young Palestinian squire was overjoyed. He was just about to turn and ask Nuk how to sell it when he heard his companion shout loudly beside him.
"Seven Deniers per pound, I'll take them all!"
The servant's sweet smile vanished instantly. He was about to ask Nuk where he got so much money and why he was buying such expensive pepper when he heard people in the crowd calling out prices. "Eight deniers!" "Ten deniers!" "Fifteen deniers!" The outrageous prices soared, quickly reaching figures that Ud couldn't comprehend. He had no idea whether to be shocked or pleased.
"It's hard to get any, I'll have to try again tomorrow." Nuk pulled out a small notebook from somewhere and wrote down today's transaction prices with a charcoal pencil. "Pepper prices have gone up a lot lately."
Daoud was speechless. "...You," he stammered, struggling to find the right words. "You're insane!"
“If I’m crazy, then everyone in this room will be crazy too?” Nuk chewed on his pen and put the notebook back in his pocket. “See that guy with the scales? If you want to sell spices, he’ll buy them from you at the starting price, no matter how much—by the way, the starting price is 70% of the previous day’s closing price.”
“Then yesterday’s pepper was worth…” Daoud calculated with difficulty.
“Yesterday it sold for nine deniers per pound,” Nuk said. “If you had bought it yesterday and sold it to him tomorrow, you would have made a silver coin per pound. If you had bought twelve pounds, you would have made a gold coin in two days.”
Daoud felt the blood rushing to his face. One gold coin in two days! His parents toiled day and night all year, and after taxes, they could only save one gold coin. Shame or anger burned his ears, making them feel like they were on fire. He thought, why hadn't he known about this lucrative business sooner? Why hadn't he had the courage to visit the "exchange" sooner?—Suddenly, he understood why this tax-free and bloodless business had to be conducted on the black market.
"This deal is wicked!" he shouted, his face flushed. "It's the devil's deal!"
Nuk's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How can you say that? Wasn't it precisely because you wanted to make this money that you secretly bought the spices and asked me to bring you here?"
“We Christians don’t do this kind of deal!” Daoud jumped down from the railing. “This deal is against conscience and morals!”
"How can that be considered unscrupulous and immoral?" Nuk jumped down and angrily grabbed his fleeing companion. "Someone is willing to buy, and someone is willing to sell. I make money, the exchange makes money, and the sellers make money. Isn't that a great thing?"
“But…but you don’t do any work at all!” Daoud pushed against his chest, not daring to look at him. “You earn so much money for nothing, how is that fair!”
"So, according to you, nobles don't work, so they're all evil?" Nuk gripped his wrist tightly. "Anyone can come here, anyone can make money. There's never been a problem with the poor being barred from entering! To insist on working to earn money, to refuse to use your brain—that's not moral high ground, that's being a fool!"
Daoud was so angry he wanted to fight him, tears welling in his eyes—but then he thought of the faces of his parents and brothers and sisters far away in the East, and of the spice packet he carried in his bosom. He wanted to leave, but his legs wouldn't move. He fell silent.
"If you don't like it, sell everything you have and never come back." Nuk reluctantly let go of his companion's hand, seeing his resentful expression. "I didn't force you to come..."
"...I'm not selling."
“Then go back to Via Messer,” Nuk sighed, “for the sake of your piety.”
“…I’m not selling today.” Daoud wiped his eyes with his dirty cloak and dragged Nuk toward the exchange. His teeth were grinding. “I’ll wait two days, until it’s more expensive, before I sell.”
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