CHAPTER 51
Knowing the Serenissima’s hospitality would not last a second longer than was expedient, the Rasenneisi did not stop to enjoy their sumptuous apartments, however magnificently decorated they were, and perfectly placed in the heart of the governmental quarter, with the fresh breeze from the harbour and the cooling shadow of Saint Barabbasso’s Basilica. Sofia and Levi were eager to explore the parts of Ariminum that had been out of bounds last time.
Pedro was only interested in the Arsenal.
The ship’s skeleton was encased and supported by a cage of scaffolding that didn’t appear equal to the task. One look at the elegantly carved spars told Pedro that the arsenalotti knew their trade. They were practical men, like him, who had learned their craft from their fathers: how to judge timber, how to spot rot and infection, when to use pine, when oak; how to steam wood, how to harden it, how to cut. The less skilful parts of construction were left to the numerous slaves whose destiny was to later row the very ships they were building.
A chorus of bells kept the arsenalotti dancing in time, but to guess their meaning was as impossible as saying where one ship’s rigging ended and another’s began. As Pedro watched, an entire galley was assembled in a few hours, and his incredulity turned to respect. He was astounded not just by the workers’ speed, but the efficiency with which their labour was divided. Ariminum was like the short-lived corporations Fabbro assembled before trading ventures: an unreal legal entity that sufficed to allow squabbling manufacturers, investors and merchants to work harmoniously for a time.
All these new warships bore out Levi’s suspicions too: the Ariminumese had a different conception of this League than everyone else.
The forest of dark ships in the harbour swayed gently on the water as small jetties darted between them and circled like kites, the tillermen unerringly finding the gaps. They heeled hard without ever slowing to bring themselves parallel, needing only a few braccia to execute such manoeuvres.
Sofia and Levi got used to sidestepping the heavy ropes thrown from fore and aft of the docking galleys. Opportunistic traders thronged the harbour with gangs of jostling slaves, offering to assist unloading whatever goods the ships carried in return for first preference to buy.
RAT–AT–TAT–TAT
The gangway bounced once, twice, and the slaves continued their work but bowed automatically – they might not know the first man to disembark, but they could be certain he was important.
Most ships were unloading people, not produce – and well-dressed people, not slaves. ‘Refugees from the Ariminumese colonies on the far side of the Adriatic,’ Levi observed. ‘There’s what precipitated this summit. The greedy dogs don’t care a fig about Etruria; they only want Dalmatia back.’
While Levi cursed their hosts, Sofia remembered that day, nearly two years ago now, after she had uncovered John Acuto’s part in the Gubbio massacre, when she had sought passage to some distant land where betrayal, lies and blood were not currency. An old sailor bound for Oltremare told her that not even the Holy Land was free from that contagion. Wherever Man was, he’d said, you’ll find it.
She looked, but she couldn’t see his battered little cog amongst the docked ships. She wondered aloud if she might see him again.
‘Not likely,’ said Levi. ‘Relations with the Oltremarines are especially frosty of late.’
Sofia understood theoretically that neighbouring states were like neighbouring towers, best of friends or deadly enemies. ‘But what’s the point of hating someone so distant?’ she asked.
‘They share a border,’ Levi said, pointing to the sea.
‘How did they fall out?’
‘When someone depends on you, they’ll forgive any trespass. After the the Oltremarines finally broke the power of the Radinate, they didn’t need Etruria any more. Every foreign merchant was promptly expelled from Akka.’
‘The Ariminumese didn’t take it well?’
‘By then most of Etruria had decided that Crusade was a great waste of money; the Ariminumese started a whisper that gave them a pious excuse to abandon it for good.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Oh, the usual: that the Oltremarines had fallen into apostasy.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Well, the whisper went that their great victory at Megiddo came at a terrible cost, that King Tancred made a pact with Jerusalem’s dead, who gave them victory in return for Jerusalem and the freedom of Akka.’
Sofia whistled. ‘Nice. I’m surprised that Oltremare’s not on Concord’s side.’
‘For the time being they’re on their own side. Etruria’s war is an opportunity for them to consolidate control of the Middle Sea.’
‘The procurator looked pretty mad when you told him that you had invited them.’
‘I was worried he was going to order me strung up along with the Doge, but he knew it was too late already, so managed to limit himself to a lecture about “acting unilaterally”.’
‘Too late – he already knew?’
‘Well, it’s kind of hard to miss.’ Levi pointed to a great ship sitting majestically still on the placid waves, its blue flags roiling and whipping like chained dragons. Painted on each side of the hull was a great blue hand with a single eye staring out of the palm.
Sofia looked blankly from the ship to Levi.
‘Madonna, Rasenneisi are a slow breed. That’s the Tancred! The procurator said it arrived a week ago.’
‘Then the Oltremarines are in?’
‘Conditionally. Queen Catrina is insisting that the summit take place in Akka.’
‘Oh.’ The hope that had suddenly lit in Sofia’s breast was snuffed out just as suddenly. ‘Bet our hosts liked that.’
‘I think the queen sent her flagship just to infuriate them. Any merchant’s cog could have carried that invitation here and the envoys back. If that was her intention, it worked; the Tancred’s been impounded ever since.’
‘Isn’t that an act of war?’
‘Sinking it would be, but they’re probably just going to delay them until the Tancred’s supplies run out. The cruellest cut of all is that they’ve forbidden any Oltremarine to disembark. I believe the local courtesans have quite a reputation.’
‘How inhuman.’ Sofia examined the great ship. With nowhere to go and no one to do, its crew were occupied with maintenance; she could see them patching sails and painstakingly replacing the running rigging. Boys were diving and cleaning the hull.
One of the young barnacle-scrapers was noisily attempting to haggle with a ragged old sailor who sat thumbing through a book and paying not the least bit of attention.
Sofia looked twice, then cried, ‘Levi, that’s him – the old man!’
‘Signorina?’ The old man looked up at her voice. ‘Do I—? Ah, I remember you!’ he exclaimed, shutting the book carefully. ‘The nearly stowaway.’
‘Where’s your little ship?’
‘Sleeping soundly on a seabed somewhere off the Levant. You wouldn’t think that recommends me as a navigator, but that’s what I’m employed as on the good Queen Catrina’s flagship.’
‘The Tancred? Why did they let you disembark?’
‘I am on good terms with Tancred’s captain – we sailed together before he took the queen’s silver. Oh, you mean the Ariminumese, that prohibition applies only to Oltremarines,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Some races are beneath the State’s attention.’
‘You’re not an Oltremarine subject?’
‘In Oltremare, I’m subject to Queen Catrina; in Ariminum, I’m subject to the Doge and,’ he said looking directly at Sofia, ‘if I ever go to Rasenna, I’ll be subject to the Contessa Scaligeri.’
Levi’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re Ebionite?’
‘Don’t fret, Signore. I do not bite. Etrurians aren’t kosher.’ Levi didn’t smile, so the old man turned back to Sofia. ‘So, Signorina, what brings you back to the City of Bridges?’
‘Same thing as last time.’
‘Ah, the summit! The talk’s of nothing else. It’s not drink or women that sailors look forward to in strange harbours, it’s gossip. Captain Khoril sent me ashore to retrieve some. I understand that the states south of Concord are making peace with each other.’
‘In order to make war on Concord,’ Sofia said sardonically.
‘The Prophetess said, “Blessed are the Peacemakers”. Motivations don’t matter, only actions.’
‘Motivation is clearly something you struggle with. You’re the only sailor I see sitting on his arse.’
He shrugged. ‘The Tancred’s impounded.’
‘So are your shipmates. They’re working.’
‘My shipmates are Marian, like yourself. Today is the Ebionite day of rest.’
‘You people have a fetish for prohibitions,’ said Levi scornfully. ‘What if your ship were sinking?’
Sofia glanced reproachfully at Levi, but the old man said with a smile, ‘Depends on the rate it’s sinking.’
‘Life’s to be lived. You really think God cares if you constrain yourself? ’
‘Self-imposed prohibitions can be liberating. My people know what real bondage is like. When we tired of being slaves, we wandered until we found a land where we could be masters.’
‘Too bad the Oltremarines had the same idea.’
Levi might have been aiming to wound, but he answered cheerfully, ‘Alas, that’s true, and so we are slaves once more. What’s worse? My people never had more freedom than in the desert, and all we did was complain. When you settle, the world insists you adopt a role, slave or master; they’re equally limiting after a time.’
‘You’d rather roam and be nothing?’
‘I prefer to keep my options open. Wisdom does not come at once, and to those who will not take it slowly, it does not come at all. A good book helps pass the time.’ He patted the thick volume on his lap reverently. Battered skin covered the yellowed pages.
‘That your logbook?’
‘In a manner of speaking. It is the adventures of God and His fleet. It’s all here – His famous captains, their famous voyages, the storms they survived, mutinies foiled, appalling shipwrecks, warnings of rocky shores, treacherous currents, sirens, sea beasts—’
‘Merda,’ Levi interrupted, ‘It’s a book of laws for a race of slaves.’
‘Sounds more like a storybook.’ Sofia was annoyed with Levi’s fractiousness, and glad that the old man was not taking offence.
‘It need not be one thing. This is not a book, it’s a bookshelf. A library containing History, Philosophy, Poetry, and a thousand and one trifling fantasies. If you see only one of those things, you don’t diminish it – there will be more perceptive readers, after all – you diminish yourself.’
‘What good is it?’ said Levi. ‘It keeps your people slaves.’
He held up his hands like a prisoner. ‘What good is it? Well, it’s riddled with contradiction. The protagonist scarcely seems to know His own mind. He is obtuse and stubborn. It jumps from precept to commandment that seldom agree. It distorts facts, garbles history. It’s inconsistent, wild, undisciplined. In short, it is, like life, a work of genius. So tell me’ – he looked up at them – ‘is life good?’
Sofia declined to answer. ‘Enjoy your reading, sir. We shall not take any more of your time.’
‘You cannot take my time; I have a surfeit of it, and it’s pleasant to talk to a pretty girl and a blunt soldier on a quiet morning. One sees so few these days. When I see you tomorrow, perhaps you’ll answer my question.’
‘If negotiations allow. ’
‘They will,’ he said with certainty, and returned to his reading.