by Lina Ellina
“It’s Pentecost today. It’s bad luck if you don’t get wet.” She gave him a glowing smile.
“In that case...”
Marin lifted her up and let her fall in the shallow water of the stream. Elena left out a cry. She decided not to get up, and Marin lent her his arm to help her up, while Ioanna started crawling in their direction curious about this new kind of game. Hippocrates joined them barking and shaking his tail. Elena dragged Marin with all her might - a move he had not anticipated. He lost his balance and fell in the water, too, just as Ioanna took to crawling over them giggling.
Marin burst out laughing. “Does that mean we’ll have plenty of good luck?” he asked while helping the women in his life, as he called them, out of the water.
“I’d like to hope so!” Elena said and took Ioanna’s clothes off and let them dry on nearby bushes. It was such a sunny day.
Watching over Ioanna, who was still discovering the fallen leaves and the rocks in the stream, Marin asked, “What happens if I can’t decipher your riddles and can’t find you one day?”
“I knew you’d find me!”
“Yes, but what if I can’t?” He looked at her curiously.
“I’ll send Hippocrates to your aid, but I don’t think this will be necessary. You are too smart.”
“And motivated,” he said, not hiding how pleased he was with her compliment!
Elena made herself comfortable under the carob tree again, and Marin lay down by her side with Ioanna on his chest and rested his head on her lap. Hippocrates made himself comfortable at their feet.
“Why don’t you read to me?” he encouraged her while patting the baby’s back.
“No, I’m tired. Reading is more difficult than speaking. I have to read most of it twice to understand it anyway.” She caressed his hair and massaged his temples.
“Mm... That’s good,” he whispered. His rhythmical breathing soon pacified Ioanna who fell asleep.
Elena looked at the serene expression on his handsome face. She had vowed to expect nothing of him, but Marin’s frequent visits made it harder and harder. He was careful not to make any promises, although he sometimes teased her that she was his little witch who had bewitched him for eternity.
But what would a bourgeois Venetian want with a common plebeian like herself? Sooner or later, his beloved uncle would find a suitable bride for him. Marriage had always been a means to climb up politically, financially, and socially. Why would Marin be an exception?
Elena decided to live their romance to the fullest for as long as it lasted and make it last for as long as she could. She watched the bond between Marin and her baby daughter grow stronger by the visit and was both content and concerned.
Marin opened his eyes and saw her pensive little face. “A sezin for your thoughts,” he said and smiled at her.
Elena couldn’t possibly share her thoughts with him. Instead, she chewed on a carob and relaxed her back against the trunk of the tree.
“How would you feel if a mightier nation came to Venice, took your land, your produce, your possessions and made serfs out of you?”
Marin closed his eyes again. He could imagine where this was leading. And it was such a great, lazy afternoon! He sighed. He knew Elena was too much of a free spirit to accept the world as it was. This little non-conformist creature had the strength and the wisdom to slip through the system and live a life by her own rules.
“It’s not like serfs are starving,” he said with his eyes still closed.
“But they do sometimes. We produce so much grain here in Cyprus, and it’s hardly ever enough to feed us all because you take it!”
“I take it?” He opened his eyes.
“Foreigners take it. Foreigners only want us to work harder so that they can profit more. This is our land we are talking about. Our produce! Our lives!”
Marin sat up carefully next to her so as not to wake Ioanna who was resting peacefully in his arms.
“Your land, your produce, your lives belong to your king,” he said in a low voice.
“Like yours belong to the doge?”
“Our system is not exactly the same - but yes.”
“Only your doge is always Venetian. Our king is always a foreigner. Look at the Venetians’ way of life, like you described it to me, and look at our lives!”
“I see what you mean. Look! It’s not like we want to make serfs suffer. We need hands to work the fields and the mill. Elena, if we sometimes seem harsh it’s because serfs are lazy.”
“Lazy? Give them back their freedom, their pride, and pay them for their work, and they won’t be lazy.”
“We couldn’t possibly do that. There would be no profit left.”
“Less profit you mean... But surely, you can treat them like human beings. They are not different than you or me!”
“Come on, Elena. They are a bunch of ignorant peasants.”
“Of course, they are ignorant. What chance do they have at literacy?”
“What do you want me to do, Elena? I can’t change the system. I can’t set them free. They don’t even belong to me.”
“Maybe not. But there is no excuse not to treat them with dignity.”
“That I could perhaps work on,” he said, seeking reconciliation.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be great if all people could be masters of their own destiny? Free to choose where to live, whom to marry. Free to work their own land – have a right at literacy.”
Marin wondered how the Cornaro enterprises would survive in a world like that but refrained from voicing his thoughts. It is easy to accept living in a world of injustice when you are favored, he thought.
When he had sailed from Venice that cold rainy January morning, he didn’t expect to find a woman so fascinating in the middle of nowhere. There was just one thing he could not explain even to himself. Why did he conceal his father’s and brothers’ visits from Elena and why did he avoid mentioning Elena when his father asked if there was a woman in his life?
“I’ve brought backgammon and chess. Choose your game, signore!” Elena said to lighten up the conversation.
“Let’s play backgammon now. We can play chess at home. I’ve an idea how we could raise the stakes and make it more... interesting.”
Elena raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Strip chess!” he said and smiled mischievously. “I’ll explain later.”
62 - 2011
Lorenzo looked up from the screen and found he was filled with the same excitement as before when he was holding her in his arms on the dance floor. With a smirk on his face, he observed her alert eyes scanning the book for reference to his ancestor.
At first, Marina had made an effort to translate the chronicle to him, but it soon became obvious how time consuming this exercise was. Instead, they decided she should go about browsing the chronicle while Lorenzo would search for Zanettis in Cyprus online.
Feeling someone staring at her, Marina cast a cursory glance around until her eyes rested on his familiar smiling face. “Any luck?” she asked.
“Well, there seem to be a few Zanettis here, but I’ve no way of telling whether they are related to my ancestor or not. You?”
“No, nothing yet. Unfortunately, I can’t read quite as fast as I would like. This mixture of medieval Cypriot Greek combined with all these Frankish administrative terms takes more time than I had expected… Anyway, it’s late. I think I should be going now. I’ll try and finish this at home.”
“Sure.”
Lorenzo got up to walk her to her car, aware that he hadn’t spent such an enjoyable day for a long time. They reached the parking lot in a leisurely pace, and Marina opened the door to the driver’s seat. She looked over her shoulder to wish him ‘goodnight’ but found herself unprepared for the proximity of his body and his mesmerizing gaze. Slowly, he bent down and bashfully put his lips on hers.
“I shouldn’t,” Marina whispered.
“Shouldn’t?” he echoed h
er words.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry. “Well, you are a client.”
“I was hoping you saw more than just a client in me,” he said with a shy smile.
Marina lowered her gaze, and he removed a curl from her eye. He put his arm around her slim waist, and she made no effort to stop him. He kissed her on the forehead and brushed his cheek against hers. She felt his warm breath as the corners of their mouths touched, and her lips parted.
She thought she heard the sound of violins but realized it was just his ringtone when he sighed and took his cell phone out of his pocket.
“I miss you, too, angel. Can I call you back?” she heard him say tenderly in Italian.
Marina swiftly sat behind the wheel, wondering what on earth had gotten into her flirting like that with a client. It was unprofessional – unacceptable.
Lorenzo bent his knees while holding onto the door. “Marina, I only answered the phone to say I’ll call back later!”
“Yeah, well... Look, it’s late. Same time tomorrow?”
And then it hit him that she understood Italian.
“Marina!” He put his finger under her chin and gently turned her face to him. “Are you running away from me?”
She cast her gaze to her hands on the steering wheel and remained silent.
“Don’t... That was Paola on the phone,” he said gently.
Marina studied his face and said quietly, “It really is late. I have to go. Goodnight.” She shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.
63 - 1468
Marin was on his way to the stables to ride out to yet another clandestine nocturnal encounter with Elena.
“Master Marin!” Nikeforos managed to catch up with him just as Marin was about to get into his saddle.
He spun around feeling like a burglar. “What is it, Nikeforos?” he asked, thinking this couldn’t be good.
“Master Cornaro has just arrived from Nicosia and is waiting for you in his office,” Nikeforos said slightly out of breath still.
Marin nodded and gave Nikeforos the reins of his horse.
“Master Marin, beware of Jacomo,” Nikeforos warned him. “He pretends to be your friend, but I think he’s a snitch. He was talking about you when your uncle summoned me, but he stopped as soon as he saw me. And I didn’t like the look on his face.”
“Thank you, Nikeforos,” Marin said and went back into the mansion.
In these last few days, he thought Jacomo’s eyes were fixed on him. He wondered what he might have told Andrea. The work at the mill was as usual. What did he have on him, he wondered?
“You have asked to see me, uncle,” Marin said when he joined Andrea in the library.
“Uh, there you are, my boy. Yes, I’d like to discuss certain issues with you. I have asked the servants not to disturb us until dinner is ready.” He beckoned to Marin to take a seat.
Marin tried to hide his uneasiness. Discourse with Andrea was usually lengthy. He could guess there would be no seeing Elena tonight. He just wished there was some way to notify her. He had been very careful not to let anyone know about her, except for his trusted friend Nikeforos, although his frequent ride outs did not go unnoticed. Is that what Jacomo told Andrea?
He tried hard to concentrate on what his uncle was saying to him about the latest developments in the palace. Marin’s attention span was noticeably shorter than usual that evening. Only when Andrea asked him about their enterprises, did he seem to be fully alert.
They had a brief break when they moved to the dining room where dinner was served. When the last servant left, Andrea chewed up his bite of tavas[1] and said, “I’d like you to come with me to Nicosia tomorrow. There’s this banquet at the palace gardens, and I think it’s time I introduced you to the bourgeoisie and some of the nobility here. I should have done that earlier,” he said, almost talking to himself. Only I hadn’t expected you to fall in love so soon, he thought.
Marin figured it could take days to be introduced even to some of the three hundred nobles and knights, two hundred squires and numerous bourgeois families on the island, but he forced a smile on his face and said, “thank you, uncle.”
[1]Goat meat, baked with onions in red wine and mixed spices
64 - 2011
When Lorenzo woke up the next morning, his first thoughts were of Marina. His yawn turned into a grin as he considered her schoolgirl nervousness when he tried to kiss her the night before. He got out of bed, undressed for the shower, and hurried down to meet her.
At breakfast that morning, Marina was less gregarious than usual. Lorenzo observed how the constant buzzing of her cell irritated her, and how she chose to push the ignore button.
“You could take your calls,” he encouraged her.
“This is a call I’d rather not take right now,” she murmured and took a sip of her coffee absent-mindedly, looking at the bouncy reflection of the sunbeams on the water through the large French windows.
“Your mom finally gave in?” he asked casually, as he helped himself to a cinnamon roll.
Marina looked up at him startled. For a moment, she had forgotten how easy it had been to open up to him. She nodded and put her cell phone on silent mode, angry at George for not leaving her mother alone.
“He’s quite persistent,” Lorenzo noticed.
“You can say that again.” The corners of her mouth twitched.
“You don’t forgive easily, do you?” He studied her expressive face.
“That’s not it. I just have nothing else to say to him,” she said a bit more emphatically than she intended.
“I don’t suppose you had the time to browse through the chronicle last night,” Lorenzo calmly changed the subject.
“Actually, I did, but I’m afraid I’m not any wiser. There are several references to Venetians but none to Marin Zanetti per se - or any other Zanetti for that matter. I’m sorry... I’ve prepared an itinerary for today. Would you like to see it?” She passed him the folder she took out of her bag.
“I have full faith in you. Surprise me,” he said and offered her a warm smile.
65 - 1468
Andrea Cornaro didn’t need to show his invitation at the palace gates. The guards recognized him at once and made way for them to pass. Marin looked right and left, dazzled at the gathered royalty and aristocracy dressed up in exquisite colorful garments in the magnificence of the illuminated imperial gardens. The Auditor of the Kingdom and his protégé mingled amongst the guests to the sound of the palace musicians that warm mid-summer evening, so that Andrea could introduce Marin to some of the important noble and bourgeois families on the island, like the Viscontis, the Querinins, the Donatos, the Loredanos, and the Pessaros.
The Consigliere had arranged for Marin to sit next to Anna Contarini, the niece of Zorzi Contarini, a rich Venetian merchant dealing with lace and fabrics. Anna was an enrapturing blonde, blue-eyed beauty, educated, swank, with refined manners. She had just arrived from Venice, fully informed of the latest gossip, and took to flirting with Marin at once. Flattered with the attention he received and perhaps a bit out of practice ever since he had met Elena, Marin was unprepared for this siren that had come to the banquet with the sole mission of weaving a seductive web around him.
Marin glanced around at the sumptuous extravagance of the palace, the ample food and good wine, and the high spirits of the banquet when he heard Zorzi Contarini invite them to dinner the next day. Andrea accepted the invitation graciously, and Marin wasn’t sure he liked the satisfied look on the two men’s faces.
Anna turned to him and offered him a self-confident, shining smile, her conquering smile that revealed her alabaster teeth and the dimples under her high cheekbones, and asked Marin to dance with her. Anna wasn’t sure she fully agreed with her uncle’s choice. Deep down she was convinced she could do better than a mill supervisor, even if he was Cornaro’s protégé. She decided to play along, however, until she could have a better understanding of the nobility on the island. As long as sh
e was not married to the boy, she would be watchful for someone with a title and more money. At least, he was handsome, she thought.
Marin escorted her to the dance floor and held her voluptuous figure in his hands dance after dance, trying to decide what Andrea was up to.
66 - 2011
The car went up the winding mountain road before it came to a halt at the ruins of a fourteenth century stone-built monastery.
“Where are we?” Lorenzo asked, getting out of the car.
“This is one of my favorite villages, Anogyra. It used to be the regional center for the carob trade. The caravans of camels and donkeys used to head down to the jetty at Avdimou, carrying panniers laden with carobs for export. Carob was so important for the island’s economy that it was called Cyprus’ black gold. This tiny chapel and these ruins here are what remain of the Monastery of the Holy Cross. According to a local legend, St. Elena left a piece of the wood of the Holy Cross here on her way back from the Holy Land, although this is highly unlikely.”
The old wooden door creaked as she pushed it open. Lorenzo looked up at the remnants of the fifteenth-century frescoes on the ceiling, probably drawn by monks who fled the fall of Constantinople.
“I’m not much of a churchgoer, but this is serene.”
“Don’t worry. We did not come to Anogyra on a pilgrimage.”
In the dim light of the small chapel, he watched her leave a coin in a tray, light a candle, walk to the icon of Jesus first, make the sign of the cross – three fingers, right to left - and kiss the icon. She repeated the same ritual with the few other icons before she met him again at the entrance. Her face was much calmer, he noticed.
“You’re sure we did not come here on a pilgrimage? I could swear I heard you praying for the twenty-first,” he teased her as they were walking away from the chapel.
“That too… Ever since I’ve found out about this place, I come up here whenever something is bothering me,” she replied, and Lorenzo wondered what could possibly be bothering her. “Our trip today is more of a culinary discovery though.” Marina put on her professional expression again.