All that mattered was that the most central secrets be kept. And, when he thought further on the matter, d’Avaux realized that not only had Buckley not penetrated any of those, he had no hope of doing so. He pursed his lips, and set to thinking hard; a calm consideration was called for.
He tapped his finger on the offending newspaper where it lay on his desk. Once, twice, thrice. “He has, of course, insulted us.”
“Yes, seigneur.”
“Ascribed to us base motives. Suggested that all we have said to the doge of our mission is a sham. That we seek to continue the war on neutral ground.”
“Yes, seigneur.” Ducos impassively awaited instructions.
“Is there a statement yet from the Americans?”
“Not as yet, seigneur.”
“I thought not. I shall compose a letter to the doge. Naturally, we are upset at this callous libel, which we regard as damnum iniuria atrox, calling for satisfaction. Naturally, His Most Christian Majesty Louis XIII of France is likewise insulted, and would esteem it a great favor were the Americans proceeded against, or at least expelled from the Most Serene Republic.” D’Avaux drew pen and paper toward himself and contemplated the feather of his quill as he flicked it back and forth.
“It is my assessment, seigneur—”
D’Avaux waved him quiet. “No, I know, Ducos. The Venetians have had gold waved under their noses. They would insult God Himself to get it. But they will respect the forms and take the counsel of their fear of our doing them harm at Istanbul. They will at least reprimand the American priest, and repairing the damage will set him back somewhat.”
Ducos nodded.
D’Avaux decided to check before dismissing Ducos. “Is there anything further?” he asked.
“Yes, Seigneur le Comte.” Ducos produced another paper. “Word is sent us from Istanbul, as it happens. The grand seignor of the Turks is to send an emissary.”
“This came from our own embassy there?”
“Yes, seigneur. Our courier believes he got the message here a full day before the official message from the Sublime Porte, which will be for the doge first in any event.”
“Good,” d’Avaux said. “We are, I believe, much in favor with the Grand Turk lately.”
“Seigneur?”
“Well, I suppose there’s no reason you shouldn’t know,” the comte said, putting down his pen for a moment and using his best tone of condescension. Ducos responded well to that; the Huguenot underling treasured the little tidbits d’Avaux handfed him as much as did the savage watchdog on his estate.
“His Eminence has spared no pains in his efforts to confine the Swede in northern Europe. Cardinal Richelieu has had profuse warnings carried to the grand vizier, to the sultan and to the priests of the Mahometans. The Turks much dislike novelty and disorder, you know, and are easily persuaded by news of the Committees of Correspondence that the Swede’s new United States is a wholesale fomenter of revolt.”
“Which is true,” Ducos said, in a rare excursion into commentary.
“Naturally,” d’Avaux agreed. “The truth was all it needed. And by representing the League of Ostend as a matter of distracting the Spaniards from the Mediterranean where they compete with the Turk’s Algerines, we ingratiate ourselves further with the Turk. It is simple work to advance ourselves in this matter by the most traditional of means, while the rest of Europe is more pressingly engaged elsewhere and trade outside the Mediterranean is disrupted.”
“And so the emissary?”
D’Avaux permitted himself another smile; this session was proving quite pleasant after its inauspicious beginning. “The emissary has been sent—you may depend upon it, Ducos—to satisfy the Grand Turk’s curiosity about these peculiar Americans and to warn Venice to have no truck with them, on pain of the sultan’s displeasure.”
“What does the seigneur want done?”
D’Avaux paused, while he composed his thoughts. Ducos was a good servant in this, especially. He stood always ready to do his superior’s bidding. “I believe,” d’Avaux said at length, “we should see that the Turk’s undoubted prejudices are validated in full.”
Ducos remained silent and attentive, while the germ of an idea sprouted in d’Avaux’s mind. “See that Buckley’s attention is diverted toward the Turk. Let us see how they react to perceived insult.”