Anna clenched her hands in her lap but held her tongue. They were not even trying to be subtle.
Marcello pounded his fist on the tabletop. ‘The Turk is loose,’ he said. ‘The Morea has fallen and now Trebizond has suffered the same fate as your city. Neither will sate this Sultan’s appetite for long. It will be our Aegean possessions next. But the new doge is not like the last. His Serenity, Doge Moro, will not sit idly waiting for the first blow to fall.’
Vendramin leaned forward and looked squarely at Bessarion. ‘The Holy Father has proclaimed a crusade. Venice shall respond.’
‘That is welcome news,’ replied the cardinal. ‘However belated that response might be.’
Foscarini shook his head vigorously. ‘Cardinal, please. Let’s not go over old ground here. Venice has always approved of the Holy Father’s plan for war with the Turk, but the Curia must recognise that since all of Christendom is endangered, all should contribute to the war cost. Our past caution has been unfairly taken for indifference.’
‘Forget the past,’ said Marcello. ‘What matters is the future, and the only future is war. Yet the issue remains, as Senator Foscarini says, that Venice cannot shoulder the effort alone. We need allies. That is where the basilissa might help us.’
Anna frowned. ‘Me?’
‘Basilissa, what do you know of Wallachia?’ asked Vendramin.
‘The land of the Vlachs? Precious little.’
‘It lies at the eastern end of the Danube. Deep forests, snowy mountain peaks and a couple of high passes into Hungary. That is the issue. You see, whilst the Hungarians still hold the river crossing at Belgrade, Wallachia offers a route that could allow a Turk army to circumvent it.’
Marcello spoke up again, ‘It is important that the leader of the Vlachs resists any Turkish approach, whether it comes as an invasion force or a peace treaty.’
‘We want him to fight,’ said Foscarini, ‘and so we shall send an ambassador to the Vlach prince to ensure he understands this.’ He gestured towards Sagundino standing at the back of the room with Sphrantzes. ‘Messer Sagundino has been to the Vlach court before and believes your testimony would help make our case.’
‘But why me? I’m not even Venetian.’
‘You hold a title the Vlachs respect above all others,’ said Foscarini.
She waited for Sphrantzes to raise an objection, but it never came.
‘Basilissa, what better advocate can there be for resistance to the Turks than the most celebrated survivor of Constantinople?’ added Vendramin. His grin was as oily as his soap.
‘Does this prince have a name?’ said Anna.
For the first time during the meeting, and with no little discomfort in his voice, Niccolo Sagundino spoke up. ‘Prince is too grand a title, Basilissa. The local term is voivode. It roughly translates as warlord. The current voivode is named Vlad, although he prefers the sobriquet ‘Son of the Dragon’. In their tongue it is pronounced Dracula.’
‘She’s not going to Wallachia!’ Bessarion almost laughed the words out. ‘Much too dangerous.’
Anna flinched. ‘Hold on,’ she began to say, but Bessarion seemed not to hear her.
The cardinal stood up. ‘Surely your ambassadors can make their point without the need for a witness.’
Anna could see the faces hardening across the table. It was obvious – to her, even if not to the cardinal – that there was no question of her petition for the commune being granted if she did not cooperate on this.
‘We can’t let the Turks know what we are up to,’ said Marcello. ‘Their spies watch our diplomats like hawks. That is why we are sending Messer Sagundino, who has been retired since…well, for some time. With respect, Basilissa, I doubt their spies would know you from Eve.’
‘But the Turks will have eyes in Wallachia too,’ said Bessarion. ‘They will spot the escort soldiers.’
‘There won’t be any escort soldiers,’ said Vendramin.
Bessarion burst out laughing. ‘Come on Anna. We’ve heard enough. Good day to you gentlemen.’ He shuffled to the door, shaking his head.
Anna’s blood was boiling. She wasn’t a child or made of Murano glass. If old men like Bessarion could be expected to hazard the dangers of embassies to far flung courts, why not her? None of the men around this table had survived what she had survived.
Vendramin rose to his feet with the other two Venetians. ‘I’m sorry you couldn’t help,’ he said.
‘Come on, Anna,’ repeated Bessarion testily from the doorway.
In all her life she had never felt less regal or in command. She wanted to speak, but her mouth was so dry and perhaps she was wrong to be angry at the cardinal’s intervention. After all, he was only protecting her. She cleared her throat, but all three Venetian backs had turned and were intent on the room’s other exit.
Sphrantzes had followed Bessarion through the antechamber. How he must have enjoyed seeing that. Only the old ambassador, Sagundino, remained at the back of the room. He cast her a commiserating smile as Anna passed him. She couldn’t meet his eye.
There had always been an idealised picture of the commune in Anna’s mind. It was a daydream she often conjured when she needed to spur herself. A little manor on a hill, with its church, its village and its vineyards. She tried to imagine it now and found she no longer could. How foolish to ever think I could make it reality, she thought. That’s not me. I’m the permanent passenger, never the gondolier of my own fate.
She was descending the courtyard staircase to the Porta della Carta when a voice called to her from behind. ‘Basilissa!’
Anna stopped. Her clenched knuckles as white as the marble banister. ‘Oh, please leave me alone!’ she said as Ambassador Sagundino came hastening down.
‘Basilissa, you must understand I was put in a very difficult position by the council. They made it clear that I should not breathe a word to you beforehand. It is a matter of state security. You understand what the penalty for ignoring those instructions would have been.’ She glared back at him. ‘They once executed a doge on this very spot,’ Sagundino added with a nervous titter. ‘You almost look ready to re-enact Marin Falier’s demise.’
‘Be thankful you’re not a doge,’ she said and began to continue down to where the rest of her party waited at the foot of the steps.
The Ambassador doggedly followed. ‘I understand your anger, but there is still a chance for your petition to be granted. They didn’t give you an opportunity to answer back then, did they.’
‘No.’ Anna turned the same withering glare onto the approaching Cardinal Bessarion. ‘Everybody very kindly made my mind up for me.’
The Ambassador held up his palms. ‘There’d be no Venetian soldiers, but that’s not to say we would go to Wallachia unprotected. The council would pay for stratioti to escort us safely there and back. I have already found a suitable mercenary company. Their captain is Matthew Spandounes - perhaps you have heard the name?’
Anna shook her head.
‘A well respected a soldier,’ said the Ambassador. ‘One of your own people in fact. If you were open to the idea, I could go back to the senators right now and tell them. Spandounes and his men are ready. We could sail for Istria tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? That seems rather short notice for me to arrange my affairs.’
The Ambassador shrugged. ‘It is the campaign season, Basilissa. The Turks may already be marching north.’
‘You’re not seriously considering going ahead with this?’ said Bessarion.
‘I think the senators made it clear that any hope for my petition relies upon me doing so,’ said Anna. ‘So, yes, it appears that I am bound for Wallachia.’
‘But really, that is absurd,’ said Sphrantzes. ‘You’re a…you’ve…’
Anna held up a hand. ‘I appreciated your earlier tact, kyr Sphrantzes, but I think that for the sake of our fledgling friendship, you should choose your next words very carefully.’
The old courtier fussed the rim of his hat be
tween his fingers. ‘I’ve made these sorts of embassies many times. The journey is often brutally uncomfortable, sometimes dangerous, and then you arrive at the godforsaken foreign court and must negotiate the pitfalls of local etiquette and royal temper. It is no task for a novice.’
‘Ideally not,’ said Anna, ‘but the alternative is no commune and so I shall hazard the journey and any Vlach foibles.’
‘Then I’ll go with you,’ said Sphrantzes. He looked almost as shocked by his own proclamation as the rest of the group stood around him.
***
Time seemed to transform from plodding mule to thundering stallion. Before Anna could quite grasp the enormity of what she had agreed to, the Ambassador arrived at Ca Notaras to take her to the Giudecca, where the boat for Istria awaited them. Half in a daze, Anna moved through the piano nobile to say her farewells to Cardinal Bessarion and Helena. As she approached the living room, Anna could hear their voices raised in animation. She stopped short of the door.
‘She won’t listen to reason, but she might just listen to her elder sister,’ Bessarion implored.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Helena. ‘She needs to go. Can’t you see that?’
‘It’s too dangerous! Really, Helena, there’s no exaggeration to say she might die.’
‘If she stays here, she will certainly die. I mean no disrespect, Cardinal, but you would have to be blind not to see that. The ship of her life sank with all hands when Constantinople fell. She has been clinging to flotsam ever since, asking herself whether it might have been better to have drowned with everyone else. The commune was the last piece of wreckage she had to hold on to. What do you suppose she will do if you tell her it’s gone and give her nothing else to live for?’
Anna smiled. Good old Helena.
‘There are worse fates than death,’ Bessarion cautioned as Anna stepped into the room.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I have lived one of those fates for nine years.’ She saw then that the cardinal and Helena were not alone. An acutely awkward audience of Sphrantzes and Ambassador Sagundino stood by the window.
Bessarion’s bearded chin dropped down onto his mozetta. ‘Anna, you know that I love you like a daughter.’
She cut him off. ‘I also know you’ve my best interest at heart, Cardinal, but Helena is right. I need to go.’
‘Then please take the greatest care.’ Bessarion embraced her tightly. She could see his eyes glistening. ‘I shall pray constantly for your safe return. Will you promise me one thing my dear?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Cardinal Trevisan is in Istria. His manor of Sneberck should lie close to your route. He would be glad to host your party for a night. None in the church are more experienced in fighting the Turks. You recall his heroics at Lesbos? Speak with him. Listen to him. If he tells you to turn back, then promise me you won’t dismiss his counsel. It won’t be the advice of a timid old priest who just wants to keep you safe.’
‘I know you’re not timid,’ said Anna. ‘And I will listen to Cardinal Trevisan. A month there, a month back. God willing, I will see you again by summer’s end.’
Helena stepped forward and embraced her with equal force. ‘This is an extreme way of avoiding that Ascension Day boat ride with Vendramin the younger.’
‘I’ll be spending tonight on a ship full of soldiers. No wonder you championed the idea.’ A look had come into Helena’s eye. ‘What is it?’
‘I have something for you to take on your journey.’
‘How kind of you,’ Anna said warily. ‘What might that be?’
‘Eudokia.’
Anna laughed. She could tell her sister was serious, but the idea was preposterous, and she had no stomach for an argument just then, so she laughed to delay the quarrel.
Helena waited patiently then said, ‘You cannot possibly travel so far without female company. You certainly cannot present yourself before a prince without at least one lady-in-waiting. Eudokia will make a fine zoste patrikia and it would do her good to get a little worldly experience. She has barely ventured as far as Malamocco. By her age I had already married and moved to Ainos.’
Anna shook her head. ‘The cardinal is right. This is not a pleasure ride to picnic and gather flowers. The dangers are-’
‘A fact of life,’ Helena retorted. ‘You of all people should understand that. Father kept you locked up at home like a caged dove and see how close that came to disaster. While you’re gone a summer plague might descend on Venice, or a hundred other catastrophes. I’m sure Captain Spandounes will keep the pair of you safer than you would be crossing San Marco.’
‘I didn’t take you for a connoisseur of condotierro,’ said Anna. ‘What makes Spandounes special enough for you to know his name?’
‘He is Greek and unmarried,’ said Helena. ‘What’s more, the Ambassador tells me he holds the title of Count and Imperial Knight of the Holy Roman Empire. I don’t pretend to understand what any of that means, but it has a ring to it.’
‘And you want me to drag poor Eudokia all the way to Wallachia just because there is an eligible bachelor leading the escort?’
‘It was you, not I, who insisted we avoid marrying Eudokia to a Latin,’ said Helena. ‘What better courtship could there be than a two-month journey together?’
Not for the first time Anna wished the room was less crowded with onlookers. She could feel her skin glowing with embarrassment.
Helena’s smile became arch. ‘Oh, but don’t let me tread on your toes! If you feel this Spandounes would be to your own taste then, by all means, leave Eudokia behind.’
‘I see. And now if I don’t take Eudokia along that will be the reason you put about,’ said Anna. ‘Suddenly I need a chaperone.’
‘You must admit it would appear seemlier to travel accompanied by your niece, rather than gallop off alone with a troop of virile cavalry. That’s how reputations begin.’
‘And what does Eudokia think of this idea?’
It was Helena’s turn to laugh. ‘I’ve no real interest in knowing, so I thought it best not to inquire.’
Anna shook her head. ‘I shall miss you.’
A short time later, George had their gondola rocking unsteadily under the newly rebuilt timbers of the rialto bridge and along the Grand Canal, past the deep red brick and ghostly white facades of the fondaco warehouses. The flamboyant, irregular style of the buildings seemed almost a masonic tribute to masquerade; to the bauta, larva and zanni masks; to those precious days and nights of celebration.
Whenever Anna’s eye moved over the elegant curves of these sinuous waterways, she could not help but remember the night when the carnival of Venice had been brought to Constantinople. A matter of weeks before the fateful siege began, it had felt like a party at the end of the world. They had decked out the hippodrome with miniature canals and wooden palaces. They had dressed up in finery and danced as though they had no care for the approaching doom.
She closed her eyes and summoned the phantom of his face up from the inky darkness of her memory. John. How she wished he could be with her now to see the real Venice. How she wished he could hold her in this boat and catch the salt odour of the canals on the breeze.
A darker memory stirred, unbidden, from the depths. Another boat, smaller even than this one. She had sat in its damp bilge while John poured out the last of his strength pulling them, link by link, along the Golden Horn’s great chain and away from the burning city.
Once more she relived climbing the ladder to the safety of the Genoese galleon. Once more she recalled turning and watching as he collapsed like a paper puppet in the rain. She fled from the torment, opened her glistening eyes and clenched her hands to try and squeeze away the feelings trapped within.
Across the canal, a market boat sat tethered to a mooring post; its crew visibly dozing among the cabbages in its hold. From further away the throbbing chord of a lute drifted and died along the Grand Canal. It all felt so tranquil and far from Turk armies or cold mountains.
Then the brown-red roofs of Venice parted and before her lay the Dogana; and the future.
The slower boat containing Sphrantzes, Nikolaos and the baggage was trailing some way behind as George attempted to bring their gondola to a halt. Ambassador Sagundino stepped ashore first, then helped Anna and her sister from the unsteady boat. Last ashore, Eudokia almost tripped over because her eyes were fixed across the stone campo on the tall line of lances with their pretty streamers playing in the wind.
The Ambassador flung an arm towards the man striding across from the fence of lances. ‘Basilissa, may I present the honourable Captain Spandounes and his Black Sheep Company.’
Knights in harness were nothing new to Anna. The polished breastplates and lobster limbs, the formic helmets. She had seen plenty at the siege. She had expected the condotierro Captain to stand out from his men in an elaborately patterned suit of armour or else a helmet crowned in colourful plumes. She recalled the arrival of the Genoese general, Giustiniani, to Constantinople. He had proven a fine soldier, but on that first day he had strutted like a peacock.
Captain Spandounes proved altogether different.
There was no elaboration in his harness. No ornate pattern, no decorative filigree. Just metal. Plain, smoke-grey steel from shoulder to toe. Still, he stood out from the others because there was hardly any metal to be seen on them at all. Instead, the silken pleats of fustanella hung down over dust-stained trousers and soft-booted feet. Coats of thick sheepskin hung from shoulders and trailing scarfs draped themselves languidly over laced short jackets and open-necked shirts.
Yet even without the hard patina of iron, there was an edge of violence detectable in them all: the small axe tucked into the cloth of a belt band, the dagger hilt sprouting from the top of a boot, bows slung over arms with the nonchalance of a minstrel’s lute.
Porphyry and Blood Page 6