by Lina Ellina
“How can you throw away all these years we’ve had together?”
Marina refused to feel guilty about it and was proud she managed to keep a steady voice. “If my memory serves me right, you are the one who did.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Marina!”
“It’s time you moved on, George. I have,” she said gently but firmly. “Goodbye, George,” she said and hung up when he remained perplexed and silent.
Exhausted, she dragged her feet to the pier, sat on a bench, and fixed her gaze on the horizon. Ever since she was a little girl in Kato Pyrgos, the beach was her sanctuary. This is probably why she felt more at home in Lemesos than she did in Lefkosia.
16 - 1467
Notwithstanding his duties at the palace and masterful endeavors to sway the king’s decision in favor of a Venetian bride, Andrea undertook Marin’s tutoring in the state of affairs in Cyprus and the Cornaro enterprises personally. Upon returning from the capital late one evening, Andrea was pleased to see Marin wasn’t wasting his time playing pilotta or, worse, getting drunk, two fashionable forms of entertainment among the young – and the not so young. Instead, Marin was industriously going over the sugar mill books he had brought to the estate to burn the midnight oil. The older man smiled privately at the young man’s determination not to fail him.
Andrea Cornaro, a very well-educated, perspicacious merchant with the Midas touch, rose to nobility by identifying - even creating – opportunities. He was a man who inspired respect even among his adversaries. This respect motivated his people to work hard to surpass his expectations of them.
“Good evening, uncle,” Marin said darting to his feet. “We were not expecting you tonight. Everyone’s gone to bed. I’ll get you some supper.”
“It’s all right, Marin. I’ve already eaten. But let’s have some commandaria[1], shall we?”
Andrea took a seat in his favorite armchair covered in vermilion cordovan, studded with nails and bordered with fringes. It almost resembled a throne with its carved gilded canopies. The two hound dogs sat at each side of the armchair. Andrea placed the cushion of cloth of gold behind his neck and patted their heads.
Marin added some firewood to the fireplace with the monumentally sculpted chimney, which depicted the Lion of San Marco, and took a blue glass bottle decorated with cold gold and enamel technique and two glasses from the dressoir. He poured some commandaria, and offered his uncle a glass.
“Conte Visconti’s wife has died, while giving birth, I think. Anyway, the funeral is tomorrow, and I’d like you to come with me.”
“Of course,” Marin replied. “Uh... Who’s Conte Visconti?”
“The conte is a powerful man and a shrewd businessman. He has augmented his inherited family fortune by acquiring the leasing rights for the Limassol salt lake from Ioannis Podocatoro. The salt lake was Podocatoro’s reward for his services to King Janus... A very profitable venture, indeed,” he added almost talking to himself. He paused for a moment and then asked, “Everything running smoothly at the mill and the estates?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.” Marin hesitated for a moment. “I believe we need to find a way to strengthen the water power.”
“Are the Hospitallers causing trouble again?” Andrea asked quietly. A cool-headed man, he liked to study all the facts at hand carefully before reaching conclusions.
“No, no. It’s just that I’ve noticed that when the river doesn’t flow swiftly, we don’t have sufficient power for the waterwheel. If we could bring an engineer to see the mill...”
“We’re lucky. Guglielmo Fontana is here to make suggestions for the fortification of the Nicosia walls. Perhaps he could take a day and visit the mill.”
Marin cleared his throat before he said, “Uncle, you know that we’ve exhausted a lot of the timber on the estate.”
Andrea met the young man’s ambitious gaze and said encouragingly, “And?”
“And... I’ve been thinking that we could use the deforested land to cultivate cotton. It is my understanding that Venice is having a hard time putting up with the constant increase in demand in the fustian industry in South Germany and Switzerland. All the important centers, Biberach, Augsburg, Constance, and Ulm procure their raw material from Venice. It’s an industry with an annual turnover of a quarter of a million ducats! And of no lesser importance, cultivating cotton is far less labor intensive than producing sugar.” Marin held his breath until his uncle finally spoke.
“Cotton! Hmm...” Andrea smiled approvingly. “By our next meeting, I’d like you to give me a full account regarding the investment cost entailed in the startup and maintenance of such an enterprise, as well as the profit you expect it to yield.” He sniffed the complex and passionate aroma of his golden-ruby colored commandaria and savored the everlasting aftertaste. He stretched his legs on the Aragon leather carpet and closed his tired eyes for a moment.
[1]A sweet desert wine with the oldest appellation for a wine in the world. In antiquity, commandaria was a popular drink at festivals worshiping Aphrodite, Cyprus’ patron deity. Legend has it that the King of England, Richard Coeur-de-Lion, enjoyed it so much that he pronounced it ‘the wine of kings and the king of wines’. In the early thirteenth century, at the first ever wine tasting competition, La Bataille des Vins, or the Battle of Wines, which included wines from all over Europe, the winner was a wine from Cyprus widely believed to be Commandaria.
17 - Rovigo, 2010
With his research concluded in Italy, Lorenzo invited Raffaella to dinner to thank her for all her support in facilitating his search. It was the least he could do. Lorenzo checked the time and then the entrance, expecting to see the familiar figure walk through the door, but Raffaella was running unusually late that night.
Lorenzo cast his gaze at the prolific use of wood that gave his restaurant a warm, cozy touch. He shifted his gaze from the marble fireplace, framed by an amber glow, to the rich deep red curtains, the reproductions of Renaissance masterpieces of Italian art, and the discreet backlighting that added a touch of amicable elegance to the ambience, and a self-satisfied grin spread across his face knowing he did a good job decorating the place. He then checked the entrance one more time, totally unprepared for the surprise he was in for that evening.
The woman who showed up at his restaurant had little resemblance to the self-effacing vice-mayor’s assistant. The spectacles were gone, her chestnut brown hair, now lightened with blonde highlights, was worn down, and the dark professional suits were substituted by a crimson thigh-length chiffon dress with a deep décolleté. The fine fabric clinched in at the waist and skimmed her body. Lorenzo looked at her from head to toes arching his brows at her metamorphosis.
“Wow, you look beautiful!” he said in all honesty.
“Thank you,” Raffaella accepted his compliment tilting her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes. She had spent the entire afternoon at the beautician, the hairdresser, and at various boutiques looking for the right dress.
Over dinner, Lorenzo kept her up to date with Don Giuseppe’s findings. If Raffaella had expected a different topic that night, she didn’t show it. Slowly, she crossed one leg over the other with her chest puffed out.
“I think it’s time I continued the search in Cyprus,” Lorenzo said, making an effort not to stare at her inviting large breasts.
“Great! I would love to take a few days off work, too.” She daintily ran her middle finger around the rim of her glass, looking deeply into his eyes.
Lorenzo loosened the collar of his shirt with his first finger and glanced uneasily around the restaurant. “Will you please excuse me a minute? I think they need a hand in the kitchen.”
They didn’t. He needed to walk away. On the brink of stage fright, he realized he still wasn’t ready to get romantically involved. Besides, he had to look for Marin, he thought. He didn’t have time for that now.
“Don’t you look smart tonight!” Antonio, his sous-chef, said when he came into the kitchen. “We’
re fine here, so why don’t you just go and enjoy your dinner? And your friend. She looks hot!”
Lorenzo smiled but refrained from answering. It hadn’t been more than a week since he went out on a date again, but Beth’s image chaperoned him embarrassingly. Sofia, his sister, had introduced him to Barbara, a friend of hers who had recently moved to Rovigo so as to split the traveling distance between her antique stores in Venice and Ferrara. Sofia had insisted so much on his asking her out to dinner that he finally humored her. Barbara was, by all standards, gorgeous and sophisticated. A successful businesswoman, she was accustomed to taking the lead, but Lorenzo needed more time.
When he got back to the table, he put a friendly smile on his face and treated Raffaella courteously for the rest of the meal. Right after espresso, she excused herself – something about having to get up early the next morning. She thanked him again for a wonderful dinner and left. Lorenzo watched her walk away experiencing an amalgam of relief, flattery, and frustration.
He poured himself another Armagnac and wondered if it was possible that Marin never returned to his homeland. For all he knew, he might have met some beautiful Cypriot girl, married her, had lots of children with her there, and lived happily ever after. Could it be that his name was not erased in the course of time? Mantovani’s wasn’t.
18 - Lefkosia, 2010
At the campus cafeteria check-out counter, Marina looked over her shoulder at the sound of Katerina’s voice calling out her name and spotted her friend walking swiftly toward her.
“Want a snack, too?” Marina asked before stepping away from the counter, but the girl with the pierced nose and a tattoo of the Chinese word for happiness above her right ankle showed no interest in earthy needs like food. She came to stand and hop close to Marina. Katerina might not have been the brightest student on campus, but she had a heart of gold, a quality Marina appreciated deeply in her friend.
“He did it!” she cried out, obviously on cloud nine.
Marina shook her head to slow her down. “Who did what?”
Marina carried her tray to an empty table by the window overlooking the clock tower square filled with students and professors rushing to and from class. Katerina followed her playing with the flock of cherry red on her short iron-flat black hair.
“Andy. He popped the question! Last night. Look!” She stretched her hand in front of Marina’s nose showing off her engagement ring.
Marina put the tray down and gave her friend a squeezing hug. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you guys.”
“Thanks, Marina mou[1]”
“Well, this calls for celebration,” Marina said decisively.
“Tonight. Just you, Marios, Andy, and me. I want you to be my maid of honor and Marios is going to be the best man.”
“Great. What do I bring?”
“You don’t bring anything. Andy and Marios are taking care of everything... Have I mentioned Marios is single?” Katerina looked at her friend sideways.
“And I care because?” Marina asked, raising an eyebrow. Since George’s infidelity, Katerina had been trying to set her up on a date.
“Oh, he’s only one of the hottest guys on campus, drives a brand new Mercedes, and he’s going to take over his dad’s company one day,” Katerina said, stretching her hand in front of her admiring her engagement ring.
“If your description is accurate, he won’t stay single for long. Have you told your parents yet?” Marina casually changed the subject.
“No. I’ll tell them this afternoon. Oh, I almost forgot. I ran into George this morning.” She grimaced.
“Where?” Marina asked alarmed.
Katerina lowered her conspiratorial voice. “Here, on campus. He’s still looking for you.”
“Don’t I know that?” Marina’s question sounded more like a statement.
She contemplated telling her friend about talking to George on the phone, but that was not the right moment, she decided. Katerina deserved to enjoy her happiness to the fullest.
“What did you tell him?”
“The usual story. We have lost contact since we’re no longer taking any courses together - you writing your thesis from home and all. I didn’t fail to remind him what a prick he is and that he was history the moment he cheated on you and that he should best forget all about you because last time I checked, you were dating some gorgeous, rich guy - someone like Marios.” Katerina looked at her friend meaningfully.
“Thanks, Katerina mou.” Marina didn’t dignify the implied question with a response.
“Marina, you need someone to protect you, someone like Marios,” Katerina insisted.
“I can manage on my own. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Marina said, shaking her head dismissively.
Katerina glanced at her watch. “Oh, I’m late for class again! I have to run. I’ll see you tonight.”
[1]A form of endearment
19 - 1467
“So, tell me, uncle, the news from the palace.” Marin helped himself to some soutzoukos[1] from the silver tray close to him.
“The king is still considering his options for marriage and alliances.” Andrea swirled the commandaria to let in the aromatic finesse and complexity of the Xynisteri[2] and Mavro[3] combination.
“Do you think he will make up his mind soon?”
It was more than evident that the king needed to have his back covered.
“Success in politics depends upon securing the right alliances and making the right moves at the right time. Everything flows; nothing stands still... Right now, things don’t look all that favorable for the king.” The tired man rubbed his neck for comfort.
“Is this because of the economic stagnation and the social and political uncertainties?”
“What do you know about that?” Andrea looked at Marin wearing an inscrutable face.
“Only what I hear. That the government is tiptoeing around foreign merchants because a change of trading routes through Alexandria would mean fewer tariffs and charges. To make things worse, the successive Black Death epidemics have led to a fall in demand for foreign products in Europe and labor shortages here. We know that first hand at the mill and the estates... From what I hear, the drought and the locusts are likely to cause another harvesting failure this year. The Turks are lurking around the corner, and Charlotte’s supporters are not happy to be deprived of certain prerogatives. And they are critical of the king’s amorous escapades. Is he really as handsome and as strong as people say?”
“I see you have your ears open.” The severe expression on Andrea’s face made the young man’s smirk grow faint.
“And your assumptions are right.” Pensively, Andrea swirled the commandaria in his glass again before he took another sip. In a lighter vein, he added, “I invited the king to a feast after hunting last week. He took his time admiring Caterina’s portrait.”
“Caterina who?” Marin wondered out loud raising an eyebrow.
“My niece, Marco’s daughter.” Andrea’s eyes focused on the glass in his hand.
“I didn’t realize you have her portrait.” As hard as Marin squeezed his brain, he couldn’t recall any such portrait.
“Not when you last visited. It’s new. I have only recently received it from Venice.” Andrea met the young man’s stare.
“You’re trying to induce the king to ask her hand in marriage!” Marin said struck by epiphany.
“There’s nothing wrong with testing the waters. His comments on her gentle beauty were, indeed, encouraging.” Andrea’s eyelids felt sluggish.
If the king finally decided in favor of a Venetian bride, why not Caterina, he thought? After all, her great-grandfather, John Comnenus, was the Greek emperor of Trebizond. This marriage might have seemed like a power game above the Cornaro league at the time, and Caterina was only thirteen, but still at a legal age for marriage. Besides, such moves were hardly ever made over night.
“That would be a brilliant move!”
“How so?” Andrea asked in h
is usual dialectical method.
“Well, to begin with, the Republic is mighty enough to protect Cyprus, which is the king’s primary concern. Then, it would be to the Serenissima’s benefit to have an outpost so far east. That would ensure its trade routes. And if that were the case, that would be beneficial to us, the Cornaro enterprises I mean, too. After all, it would be fairly short-sighted for the Republic to put all its eggs in the basket of Alexandria and the Muslims.”
“Quite right, my boy. Quite right,” Andrea said, considering that Marin’s training was almost concluded. That came in handy. Andrea intended to stay by the king’s side as much as possible. He was certain he would soon be consenting to the engagement.
A shrewd politician, James II would soon see his perfect ally in the face of the Republic of San Marco. The marriage would seal the long-lasting alliance. Marco was already preparing the ground in Venice. With his daughter’s potential engagement, the family’s good name would not only be restored but their status elevated and cemented. The Council of Ten, however, was not willing to write them a blank check. Before the marriage, Caterina would be declared an adopted daughter of the Venetian Republic. Hence, in future, the Most Serene Republic could inherit the right of succession to the throne and possession of the kingdom itself.
“I wonder how wise it is for the king to prefer the house of Cornaro so openly,” Andrea said, almost talking to himself.
“The Republic should be glad the king chooses a Venetian bride!”
“Our fellow-Venetians’ jealousy should be feared,” Andrea said, bringing his right forefinger to his auburn sideburn and remained silent for a while.
“What if... What if he doesn’t prefer Caterina openly?” Marin suggested.
Andrea looked at his protégé with a glint in his eyes and built upon the young man’s idea.