‘You’re missing out,’ said Olivia as she dived under the turquoise water.
Kate smiled and went back to Sophie’s email, which was as scattergun as when her friend told a story over a pint.
Anyway, there was a big trial with the East India Company. (You were too hungover to pay attention to this last bit, if I recall.)
I spent the afternoon at the Parliamentary Archives scrolling through rolls of transcribed legal documents. The original depositions are on thirty rolls of skins which they won’t let me near, which is a shame. I asked to copy a couple of bits, which I’ve attached. There’re also a whole bunch of log books and diaries of the East India Company at the British Library. I went and copied some pages, if you’re interested … and have half a year to read them!
You’re welcome.
Soph xx
P.S. Don’t be all work in Sri Lanka.
Kate clicked on the attachment. Sophie had sent the official complaint summarised for the London court.
28 April 1637
Gerhard Polman, gem merchant and jeweller, after traversing many countries in search of precious stones … in the year 1631 put himself on board an English East Indiaman in Persia on his way home. He had with him a large collection of gems and precious stones, collected during the previous thirty years.
On the homeward voyage Polman was poisoned by Abraham Porter, surgeon of the East Indiaman, and his goods were divided among the crew of the ship. The crime becoming known, parts of his estate ultimately came into the hands of the East India Company …
Kate scrolled through the transcripts Sophie had sent. It appeared the ship’s crew had killed Polman a couple of weeks out of Mauritius, tore his clothes off and tossed the naked body overboard. They had then helped themselves to bagsful of jewels and gemstones and snuck ashore at Gravesend before the Discovery reached London. But why was Sophie sure there was a connection to the collection in the Museum of London?
She continued reading through an inventory of Polman’s chests, and cross-checked it with Saanvi’s precise catalogue from the museum. There were leather pouches packed with the clearest diamonds, turquoise and natural pearls from Persia—pawned and resold along Cheapside. Kate found herself flipping between the testimonies, her notebook and Saanvi’s catalogue. So many of the rings and gemstones sounded similar to those in the Polman trial. The East India Company had ended up retrieving some of the jewels.
But nobody could be certain all the precious pieces that circulated through the hands of the gem cutters and jewellers along Goldsmiths’ Row in Cheapside were ever retrieved.
Kate trawled through the list until she hit a description that made her heart beat a little faster: a greene rough stone or emerald three inches long and three inches in compass. She did a quick calculation in her head and looked at the dimensions of the watch in her notebook. To achieve all the facets of a hexagon, the rough would have had to have been this size. Emeralds were notoriously full of flaws, and often crumbled at the first cut by a lapidary—it was unusual for an emerald so large to survive such an intense transformation. Her admiration for the artisans who crafted the watch swelled.
Kate sat back and read over the trial testimonies … a man murdered for a green stone.
She replied:
Thanks, Soph, amazing work. IOU big time. Love to see any diary entries of the Discovery crew.
K x
Then she clicked back to her own document and moved her curser down to the section on the emerald watch and added in a couple of sentences. When she was done, Kate sat back in her chair and took a sip from the teacup that sat by her right hand. Though now cold, the white tea was delicious and tangy. As she refilled her cup from the rapidly cooling pot, another email from Sophie arrived. Her friend was a machine.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Diary of Robert Parker, SS Discovery, 1631
She scanned the facsimiles of the diary pages, seeking any personal clues that might link Gerhard Polman’s emerald with the watch in London.
April 20, 1631
I’ve been long enough in the bowels of a ship to know what I am supposed to yearn for on land. And it is true enough. I can’t think of the last time I touched skin, except on the receiving end of a slap across the cheek from the surgeon, or a kick from the carpenter.
It’s my job to deliver a draught of beer and plate of salted meat and cheese to the Dutchman’s cabin every night. The look on his face tells me he misses the jewelled yellow rice covered with pomegranate seeds and chunks of grilled meats as much as I do.
I’m the only one he permits in his cabin. He sits at his desk all day polishing blue, red and clear stones, setting them into rings and buttons. Yesterday his desk had twenty score pouches of pearls and cloth bags filled with gemstones that I thought his cabin was afire!
He unwrapped the large emerald and allowed me to touch the green stone. It felt eerie, both a blessing and a curse.
Afterwards, the Dutchman pulled a clear rough from a leather pouch hanging around his neck and held it under the lamplight. His voice was soft, reverent. As if the rough he held was magic. I felt it too. For though the stone was unpolished, when I looked inside it glowed warm with the lamplight. He whispered that this diamond rough was from Golconda …
As her fingers ran over the museum catalogue, tracing Robert Parker’s shaky script, she went back to the article she was writing and wrote a new line. When she’d finished, she sent the last paragraph off to Sophie for comment before her thoughts returned to the black and white ring. It was entirely possible the Golconda diamond had travelled from India to Persia then on to London in one of Polman’s leather pouches.
Outside, she saw that Marcus had climbed out of the pool and now stood towelling himself under the shade of a palm. He called out something to Liv about having a shower before dinner, but she ignored him and kicked underwater to the end of the pool. As he bent and reached for his towel, Kate noticed a thick pink scar slicing his back and disappearing over his shoulder blade. It disappeared as soon as he straightened.
Oblivious to her gaze, Marcus was watching Olivia, a proud smile on his face. Kate worried a dark knot in the grain of her desk with her forefinger. The tenderness of his look unspooled a hurt deep in her stomach, but also threads of something else. Something … happier.
Kate’s computer pinged. It was a reply from Sophie.
Nice work! Now go get yourself a martini by the pool.
Kate snapped her laptop closed and walked outside.
Kate and Marcus sat beside the pool. They’d finished the last of the sour fish curry and had resumed work on their laptops. Liv had joined them for dinner but had disappeared to study an hour ago.
‘Another beer?’ asked Marcus as he signalled to the waiter.
Kate leaned back in her chair and stretched languorously. ‘Why not?’ she replied as she plucked her singlet top from her damp skin at the shoulders and tucked some escapee curls back into her ponytail. Her thick Irish curls were not compatible with the humidity. She wiped her forehead and took a moment to admire the silvery moonlight reflected on the ocean.
The beers arrived and she pressed hers to her neck, savouring the coolness of the glass against her skin. The heavy air was sweetened with frangipani.