Siege

Chapter 7

JANUARY 1450: GENOA

The sun had long since set on a cold January day when Longo arrived at the palazzo of Signor Grimaldi to attend the feast being held in honour of the ambassadors from Constantinople. At the gate he dismounted and handed his horse over to William. He watched as the boy hurried off to the stables, no doubt eager to gamble away his few coins with the other squires. William disappeared into the stables, and Longo entered the grand hall of the palazzo Grimaldi.

An enormous chandelier bedecked with innumerable tiny crystals hung from the ceiling, its many flickering candles shedding a glittering light. Candelabras lined the walls, adding to the bright glow. A long table ran down the centre of the room, and around it sat the chiefs of the great families of Genoa. At the top of the table, Grimaldi sat beside his eldest son, Paolo, and they both nodded in greeting as Longo's eyes met theirs. The foot of the table was reserved for the Greek ambassadors, and it was still empty.

Longo spoke to a few men with whom he was on good terms and then took his seat beside his future father-in-law, Grimaldi. 'How are your vineyards?' Grimaldi's son Paolo asked, a trace of a smirk around his lips. Yesterday, someone had set fire to the dry winter vines in Longo's vineyards, forcing Longo to miss the council meeting called to discuss the Greeks' request for troops. Longo suspected that the fire had been set precisely to keep him absent.

'The fire damaged some of my newer nebbiolo plantings — a great blow,' Longo replied. He locked eyes with Paolo before continuing. 'But do not worry on my account, Paolo. I will find who set the fire soon enough, and they will answer for it. As they say, those who play with fire are apt to get burned.'

The moment of tension was interrupted by a blast of trumpets. The men around the table stood as the double doors leading to the hall from the palazzo were opened. The first ambassador to walk through was an elderly man, well preserved, with a long, white beard. 'Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis,' the herald announced.

Leontarsis moved into the hall, and following him, to Longo's great surprise, came the enchanting young woman he had met at the emperor's palace in Constantinople. 'Princess Sofia Dragases,' the herald intoned. She was elegantly dressed in a tight-waisted caftan of buttery-yellow silk and wore a thin golden tiara woven into her long black hair. What was she doing here? Longo wondered.

Leontarsis and Sofia sat, and the Genoese followed suit. Immediately, servants stepped forth carrying an enormous platter on which sat a whole roasted boar. A low buzz of conversation sprang up around the table. Longo half-listened to the talk around him, while keeping his eyes on Sofia at the far end of the table. Finally, after the last course had been served, the room quieted. The real purpose of the gathering had arrived.

Ludovico Fregoso, the Doge of Genoa, stood and raised his glass. 'To our honoured guests and to the prosperity of their fair city,' he toasted, and the assembled company drank.

Fregoso sat, and Leontarsis rose in turn. 'To our Genoese allies, we thank you for your friendship and support,' he toasted. There was some grumbling when he said 'allies', and not all of those at the table drank the toast.

'Your words are kind,' Fregoso said to Leontarsis, speaking in a voice loud enough so that all could hear. 'We have always prized the friendship of the Roman emperor, and I am sure that many Genoese will rush to your aid if ever there is need.'

'Many Genoese?' Leontarsis asked. 'And what of Genoa herself? Will the republic stand beside Constantinople?'

'If the Turks attack,' Fregoso replied, 'then the Republic of Genoa will offer the services of a ship and crew to Constantinople, to serve as a link to the world and as a scourge upon the Turks.' One ship. Longo was not surprised, but he was still disappointed.

'We thank you for your promise of help,' Leontarsis said, 'and if the day comes when the Turks attack, we hope that many brave Genoese will rally around this one ship.'

That seemed to settle the matter. The men around the table had gone back to their food and private conversations when Sofia spoke out loudly. 'I should think that the Genoese would leap at the chance to defend Constantinople,' she said. 'After all, you would be defending not just the Empire of the Romans, but your colony of Pera as well. Surely you would not want to lose your door to the East?'

'What do you know of such matters, woman?' Paolo snorted and took a long drink of wine. 'You should save your talk for the bedroom.' Sofia flushed crimson as quiet laughter spread around the table.

'That is quite enough, Paolo,' Grimaldi said. 'I apologize for my son's lack of courtesy, Princess. But he is right. Fighting the Turks will only antagonize them. I regret to say it, but Pera will perhaps be more secure if the Turks take Constantinople. They at least have the strength to protect our interests there.'

'You truly believe your colonies will be safe in the hands of the Turks?' Sofia demanded. 'The Venetians thought the same of Salonika, but the Turks took it all the same. No, signor, you should not be so fast to trust the Turks.'

'Hear, hear!' Umberto Spinola shouted from the centre of the table. 'The Turks are heathens!' he slurred, obviously drunk. 'We should not deal with the devil.'

'The Turks may be heathens, but no more so than the people of Constantinople,' replied the powerful Signor Adorno. 'They have rejected union with the one true Church for years now. Why should we fight and die for men that spit on our religion?' There was mumbled assent at this remark.

Longo stood. 'Enough! I have fought the Turks. I have stood face to face with them, and I know the difference between a Turk and a Greek. I have already pledged my sword to Emperor Constantine's service. If Constantinople is attacked, then I will defend its walls.' He drew his sword and laid it on the table. 'Who will stand beside me?' He looked at the men around the table and then at Sofia. She nodded her thanks.

There was silence as men shifted in their seats. Finally a young noble, Maurizio Cattaneo, stood. He was followed by a few others — the two di Langasco brothers and the three Bocchiardo brothers. They were all young men with little in the way of inheritance, who had nothing to lose by selling their lives in foreign lands. None of them would bring many troops to the battle, but Longo was glad for their support nevertheless. One by one, they drew their swords and laid them on the table.

'On behalf of the emperor, I thank you all for your courageous offer,' Leontarsis told them. 'But please, keep your swords for now. You may have need of them.' The men sheathed their swords and sat. 'I would also like to thank Signor Grimaldi, our host tonight, and all of those who have made us feel welcome in this city. Our emperor will be most pleased, and Constantinople will always have a place in its heart for Genoa. To Genoa!' he concluded, raising his glass.

'To Genoa!' the assembled men replied in chorus as they stood and drained their glasses. The toast marked a fitting conclusion to the dinner, and afterwards Grimaldi led them outside to the gardens behind the palazzo, where his private musicians played by torchlight under a star-strewn sky. Braziers filled with warm coals had been set up at frequent intervals to ward off the night chill, and the guests moved amongst them in the shadows, discussing politics and drinking chilled sweet wine.

Longo had hardly stepped outside when he was cornered by Leontarsis. 'Signor Giustiniani, allow me to again express my thanks for your offer of aid.'

'No thanks are needed,' Longo replied. 'My fellow Genoese may not see it, but the fight against the Turks is our fight as much as it is yours. Either we fight them now, or we fight them later; but fight them we will.'

'I agree entirely,' Leontarsis said. 'If you could only persuade a few of your more powerful countrymen to join you, then the emperor would be most appreciative. He would compensate you accordingly.'

'If I could persuade them, then I would, with or without compensation. Besides, I do not need your money. Nor do many of the men here.'

'Money is not what I offer.' Leontarsis pointed to Sofia, who stood nearby in earnest conversation with several men. 'You have surely noticed the Princess Sofia. She is beautiful, is she not?'

'What are you saying?'

'The emperor feels that the Princess Sofia would make an appropriate match for a man who truly helped our city in its time of need.'

'I see,' Longo replied. He knew that this was how marriages were arranged, but still, he felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of this woman being sold off to one of his countrymen. 'And what does the princess think of such an arrangement?'

'What the princess thinks is of no importance,' Leontarsis replied.

'Indeed?' It was Sofia. Neither Leontarsis nor Longo had noticed her approach. 'Is that why you thought not to tell me that I have been placed on the market for the highest bidder?'

'I was only following the emperor's orders, Princess,' Leontarsis said. Then, recovering himself, he added more confidently, 'Why do you think that he agreed to allow a woman on this trip in the first place? Surely you did not think that it was your political skills that were desired?'

'As you said, what I think is of no importance,' Sofia replied, her voice quiet but hard. 'But I will tell you what I know, Leontarsis. I am a princess of the royal family, not a slave to be sold, not by you. If you offer me up as a prize again, you will regret it.' She turned and strode away into the darkness.

'I am sorry you had to witness that, signor,' Leontarsis said. 'But my offer stands.'

'I am not a mercenary to be bought,' Longo replied curtly. 'Good-night, Ambassador.'

Longo walked away, looking for Sofia. He found her alone, nearly hidden in the shadows at the edge of the torchlight.

'Have you come to inspect your merchandise?' Sofia asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

'I am engaged to marry another, but even if I were not, my sword is not for sale, even for so high a price,' Longo told her. 'If my presence grieves you, I will withdraw.'

'No, stay,' Sofia replied more softly. 'It is not you that I am angry with, Signor Giustiniani. Indeed, I should be thanking you for what you did tonight. I apologize for my rudeness.'

'You have no need to apologize. I understand that it is not an easy thing to be married against one's will.'

'You are a man, signor. What can you know of such things?'

'Sometimes men are not so free to choose. We are all of us compelled by duty.'

Before Sofia could reply, Grimaldi appeared, seeming to materialize out of the darkness. 'There you are, Signor Giustiniani,' he said. Turning to Sofia, he bowed low. 'Princess Sofia. It is an honour to meet you face to face.'

'Princess, this is Signor Grimaldi, the father of my intended,' Longo told Sofia, who curtsied.

'I am sorry, Princess,' Grimaldi said, 'but the evening is nearly over and I must take Longo away from you. He must rise early tomorrow to wait on my daughter. He is taking her on a voyage to my family's home in Bastia, on Corsica. Longo has business there.'

'Corsica is near Rome, is it not?' Sofia asked.

Longo nodded. 'With a favourable wind, it is only a half-day's sail from Corsica to Ostia, the port of Rome.'

'Then if it is not too much of an imposition, I wonder if you could carry me, Leontarsis, and our servants to Rome when you sail for Corsica. We travelled overland from Venice, and our ship is meeting us in Rome. I am eager to arrive there as soon as possible, and I do not relish the prospect of another overland trip. I am told that the roads to Rome are thick with bandits.'

Longo looked to Grimaldi.

'Of course,' Grimaldi said. 'I am sure Longo would be delighted to be of service, and my daughter will be honoured to meet you. Now, if you will excuse us, Princess.'

'It was a pleasure meeting you, Signor Grimaldi,' Sofia said. 'Until tomorrow, Signor Giustiniani.'

Sofia moved away, rejoining the party. Longo turned in the opposite direction, towards the stables, but Grimaldi held him back. 'A moment, signor,' he said. The old man looked hard into Longo's eyes. 'Be careful, Signor Giustiniani. It would be wise to watch your step around the princess during your voyage to Rome.'

'Surely you do not doubt my intentions, nor the honour of the princess.'

'I do not doubt your honour; but I saw you with the princess, and I do not doubt my eyes, either,' Grimaldi replied. 'Good-night, signor. I will see you tomorrow.' The pre-dawn air was thick with chill fog when Longo rode into the courtyard of the palazzo Grimaldi the next morning. His stomach — usually so calm, even on the eve of battle — was knotted tight. It twisted still further when he saw Julia — thin and frail, dressed in a tightly corseted blue velvet dress that emphasized her budding breasts — and helped her into her carriage. The tension in his belly seized his throat when he arrived in the courtyard of the Fregoso palace and saw Sofia emerge, ravishing in a green cloak, a long divided skirt and high riding boots. Longo got down from his horse and offered Sofia a hand into the carriage, but she only laughed. 'I wish to ride,' she told him. 'I have yet to see much of the city.' And with that, she swung herself into the saddle of one of the horses that had been prepared for the Greek ambassador's retinue. Leontarsis, grumbling about how his old joints hurt in the morning damp, gladly took Sofia's place in the carriage.

The sun rose above the hills behind them, burning off the morning mist and warming the chill air as they rode the short distance to the docks. Sofia smiled and laughed, asking the names of buildings and plazas. She seemed more alive than she had the night before, totally at ease in the saddle. Her buoyant spirits lifted Longo's mood, and soon he too was smiling, the knots in his stomach loosening. By the time they reached the docks and loaded all of the baggage aboard la Fortuna, the chilly dawn had transformed into a glorious winter morning. Longo gave the order to make way and left one of his men at the wheel, while he went forward to stand at the rail with Sofia, Julia and Leontarsis. They glided across the bay of Genoa under a favourable wind, the ship cutting confidently through the short, choppy waves.

'The trip should be a quick one with this following wind,' Longo told them. 'We will sail down the Genoese coast, past the Arno river in Florence, and should reach Corsica well before nightfall. We will stay at my family home in Bastia and then sail on to Ostia the next day. You should be in Rome by tomorrow afternoon.'

'I have never heard of Bastia,' Sofia said. 'What is it like?'

'It is a small town, built on the steep, rocky coast of Corsica. The island itself is under the control of a group of Genoese traders called the Maona, and each of the great Genoese families has representatives amongst them. Corsica has been Genoese for almost two hundred years, although you would never know it. The people are still as desperate for independence as ever.'

'My father says that the Corsicans are like animals,' Julia said. 'They must be domesticated to be of any use.' Her face was beginning to take on a greenish cast.

'He would no doubt speak differently if it were his country that were occupied,' Sofia replied. 'I admire these Corsicans. It requires great bravery to fight a battle that nobody believes can be won.'

'Or great foolishness,' Leontarsis mused. 'Sometimes I fear that we are all of us only playing the fool on this mission.'

'On the contrary, Leontarsis,' Longo said. 'A fool fights when he has no chance. A brave man fights when he has no choice. No, the only fools are those who do not come to your aid. As for the Corsicans, only time will tell whether they are fools or not. I for one cannot blame them for wishing to be free.'

'I did not mean to cause offence,' Julia said, blushing. 'I know little of these matters and… If you'll excuse me, My Lord…' Julia bowed and, covering her mouth with one hand, made a quick retreat from the rail. Her maid joined her as she hurried below to her cabin.

'I will take my leave as well,' Leontarsis said. 'The air on deck does not appear to agree with me.' He turned and followed Julia below.

Sofia shook her head. 'Seasickness must be terrible,' she said. 'I love the ocean, the feeling of freedom that comes from slicing through the waves, the wind in my hair.'

'You are a sailor, then?' Longo asked.

'Hardly,' Sofia said, laughing as the prow of la Fortuna struck a wave head on, spraying both of them with water. 'I had been on ships within the Golden Horn, but my trip to Venice was my first true encounter with the sea. I love it. How lucky you are to have a ship of your own, the freedom to go wherever you wish.'

'I am not so free,' Longo replied. They stood quietly for some time, enjoying the sunshine and the unending rush of the sea under the prow. Longo had canvas chairs rigged for them on the foredeck, and they sat, watching the coast of Italy roll by. The mountainous Republic of Genoa was ending now, the high hills tapering into the gentler landscape of the central Italian states of Modena and Florence. Other ships began to appear on the horizon. Longo pointed to an inlet on the coast.

'The mouth of the river Arno,' he told Sofia. 'There is a port there that serves Pisa and Florence.'

Sofia nodded. 'I have heard of it,' she murmured. Then, turning to look Longo in the eyes, she asked: 'If you were free to do as you wished, then what would you do?'

Longo paused. What would life even mean without duty to guide him? 'I do not suppose that I would do very much differently,' he said at last.

'And her?' Sofia asked, nodding towards the cabin.

'What? You do not think that she is a good match?'

'She is beautiful, like a delicate flower, but she is so young.'

'She is the daughter of one of the most powerful families in Genoa, and beautiful as you say,' Longo replied. 'She is all that could be asked for in a wife.' He paused, considering. 'But what of you? What would you do if you were free?'

'I would fight to defend Constantinople,' Sofia replied without hesitation. 'And I would travel. I have seen so little of the world, and books can only teach so much.'

'Fighting and travelling are not as glorious as they sound,' Longo said. 'One grows tired of both.'

'Are you tired of fighting, Signor Giustiniani?'

'You may call me Longo, Princess. And yes, I am weary of war. I used to desire nothing more than battle against the Turks, but lately…'

Sofia nodded, but did not speak. Longo wondered if she understood him. He felt, somehow, that she did. They sat in silence until the distant smudge that would become Corsica appeared on the horizon. 'We will be landing soon,' Longo told her as he rose from his chair. 'I must make preparations. Until tonight, Princess.' Longo had Sofia and Julia escorted to their rooms in his family's villa, high in the hills above Bastia, while he spent the rest of the afternoon at the docks, busy reviewing accounts with the factor who oversaw his fishing and shipping interests on the island. It was dark when he finally arrived at the villa. He had ordered a lavish meal for his guests, but when he arrived, Longo found that only Sofia had come to take part in the feast. 'Ambassador Leontarsis and Lady Julia beg your pardon,' the house steward told him. 'They requested that you be informed that neither of them is hungry, and that they will see you tomorrow.'

'I see,' Longo said and sat at the table across from Sofia. 'Julian, see to it that Leontarsis and Julia are taken soup and bread, and have someone find a physician to provide something to calm their stomachs.'

'Very thoughtful of you,' Sofia said.

Longo smiled. 'I was thinking more of my own welfare than theirs. I would prefer that Leontarsis have his wits about him when he reaches Rome. And Julia is to be my wife; I know enough of women to know that the more she suffers now, the more I will suffer in the future.'

'Indeed,' Sofia replied, smiling back. They both busied themselves eating, and the conversation lulled. They moved through the courses — sauteed skate, roast pheasant stuffed with goat's cheese and achingly sweet Corsican oranges — while the candles burned low. Longo watched Sofia between bites. She was beautiful, but not like Julia. Sofia was no fragile flower; she was more like a finely crafted sword. But she was a bit dull at present, subdued and distracted.

'Is the food to your liking?' Longo asked.

'It is delicious.'

'I ask only because you seem troubled, Princess. Perhaps you are worried about your reception in Rome?'

Longo caught her eyes, and to his surprise, she blushed. 'Yes, that is it,' she agreed. 'The pope's support is vital.'

Longo nodded as he studied her, trying to read her face. When she caught him staring, this time he blushed. He was acting like a fool, Longo thought. Still, he could not take his eyes off her.

'It is growing late, and I understand that we must depart early tomorrow,' Sofia said. 'I should retire.'

Longo took a candle from the table and led her out of the dining room, into the open courtyard at the heart of the villa, and up a set of stairs. He stopped before a room overlooking the courtyard and opened the door.

'Good-night, Princess,' he said, but neither of them moved. They stood facing one another, silhouetted in the doorway. Their eyes met, and this time neither of them looked away. Suddenly Sofia stepped forward and kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm. Longo kissed her back, hard, but then she pulled away. Her cheeks and neck were flushed. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Longo looked into her eyes and saw confusion and panic. He took a step back, putting more distance between them.

'Forgive me,' Sofia said at last. 'That was wrong of me.' Longo said nothing, waiting for her to finish. 'I… Perhaps I should take another ship to Ostia tomorrow, if that is possible.'

Longo nodded. 'There is a ship sailing for Rome before sunrise tomorrow. I will see that you and Leontarsis are safely aboard.'

'Thank you, Signor Giustiniani,' Sofia said. Their eyes met again, and she looked away. 'And thank you for your kindness. Good-night, and God be with you.'

She slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. Longo stood there for several minutes until finally, he turned and walked slowly away. Longo returned to Genoa two days later. Julia was quiet and brooding throughout the trip and only answered his questions with curt replies. Longo guessed that she was still suffering from seasickness.

When they reached the Grimaldi palazzo, Julia hurried inside with hardly a word to Longo. He mounted his horse, but just before he rode out of the courtyard Grimaldi called out for him to wait. Longo turned to find him striding out of the palazzo, and Julia standing in the doorway, watching. Longo dismounted and clasped hands with Grimaldi.

'Did you have a good trip?' Grimaldi studied Longo.

'The sea was calm, and business is well.'

'Julia tells me that you spent a great deal of time alone with Princess Sofia. I trust that nothing untoward happened between you.'

'Of course not,' Longo said. But an image of Sofia kissing him burned in his mind, and he looked away.

'Good,' Grimaldi replied, 'because the time has come: Julia is ready to wed.'

'But she is young yet, is she not?'

'She is fourteen, old enough to bear children,' Grimaldi said. 'In two weeks' time, you will marry.' Longo did not reply. He thought of Sofia, laughing aboard la Fortuna as the sea spray hit her. 'It is not a suggestion, signor,' Grimaldi insisted.

'I will be honoured to marry her,' Longo replied.