Eric Flint: The Shadow of the Lion

Later in the afternoon, someone took Benito by the arm and drew him away from a young female admirer. Oddly enough, he didn't feel any urge to resist even before he saw that it was Petro Dorma.

"I've got news I felt you should hear right away. A crew that arrived this morning came upon a shipwreck in the gulf the day of the fighting. I just got the word. Caesare Aldanto's galley, it was."

"Are they sure?"

Dorma nodded somberly. "They say there were big seas that afternoon. Probably stirred up by the gale that blew the fog away. They saw a galley in bad trouble and were heading for a rescue when a double wave came through. The galley snapped in two and broke up. By the time they got there?the waves were very severe… it was all over. No survivors.

"After the sea calmed, they recovered some of the bodies. Caesare's was not among them, and they say it was much too far from land for anyone to have a hope of swimming ashore."

Dorma took a deep breath. "There's more. Part of the wreck was still floating. The captain had a look and they've hauled that section out and brought it back. Someone had hollowed out a great chamber in the keel. When it hit the waves, it snapped. We think this must be how the other galleys were lost. We'll be checking them all now."

Benito closed his eyes briefly. The smuggling scheme… now he wondered if it had really been a smuggling scheme, and not just Caesare's way of sabotaging Venice's commerce. Whichever it had been: Caesare's own mischief had come back to sink him.

After Dorma left, Benito wandered through the huge throng aimlessly. He was trying to decide how he felt about Aldanto's death. On the one hand, he'd planned to kill him anyway, if he could. On the other…

He sighed, remembering all the little ways in which Caesare Aldanto had helped him. For his own purposes, to be sure. But… not always, perhaps. And even if it had all been done for nothing but mercenary reasons, the help itself remained.

Benito had long known that life couldn't be separated into neat blacks and whites. Now, he was discovering that gray is also a much more confusing color than it looks at first glance.

Out of that welter of confusion, one thought came clearly. I want to see Maria.

The piazza was redolent with the smells of feasting. Not a few of the Arsenalotti had already been dipping deep in the casks of good Veneto red that Petro Dorma had caused to be set among the tables. Benito found laughter, smiles, and winks from pretty girls and even snatches of song amid the laden trestles. What he didn't find was Maria Garavelli. It worried him. He'd been looking for her for quite a while.

The afternoon was rich and golden. Everybody was full of happiness. Everybody except Benito Valdosta, it seemed. And Maria, maybe. He thought there'd been a tear in her eye when she left him earlier. Or maybe… he just hoped so.

Only, where the hell had she got to? Ah. A familiar face. "Hey Tonio. You seen Maria?"

The bargee nodded. "Yeah. Saw her heading for the moorings down by the side of the Marciana."

"Thanks!" Benito quickened his pace and walked off towards the moorings beside the library.

She was sitting on a bollard, staring out across the gently bobbing rows of gondolas and the forests of masts in Bacino San Marco. A lonely figure?sheltered from the noise and laughter of the piazza. Here only the occasional gull shrieked and squabbled overhead.

"So what's wrong now?" He knelt down next to her and put an arm over her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"I just want to be alone," she snapped. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She lifted that square jaw. "It's not a Casa Vecchie problem. Now go away."

"What's this Casa Vecchie stuff? I'm Benito!" He stood up and backed away a pace, raising his hands in protest.

She looked him up and down. Benito was acutely aware of his velvet and lace. "It's a poncy outfit," he muttered. "But Dorma insisted."

Maria stood up and turned to face him, hands on her hips, her dark eyes fulminating. "Oh. The next Doge insisted. You poor thing."

Benito flushed, acutely aware that she was slightly taller than he was. "So?"

"I am a canaler, Benito. You, on the other hand. You're behaving like an absolute copy of Caesare, strutting about."

Benito felt that was unfair. All right, so he'd been enjoying the victory. Enjoying the waves and… yeah, enjoying the kisses some of the girls had given him. Maybe that was it. "What's wrong with you? Why are you biting my head off?"

"I'm not. I just asked you to leave me alone… seeing as you only seem to want to see me when it suits you."

Benito felt his mouth drop open. "Give me a break! I've had to spend time with Marco and my grandfather and Dorma. And there just hasn't been much time. And I've been to see you… twice. And you were with Kat. Or out."

"Twice!" said Maria. "Oh, I am sorry. I should have stayed in just in case you came to call. I'm a canaler, Benito Valdosta. I have to work, you know."

Benito took a deep breath. "Well. That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought?"

What was he thinking, anyway? He'd been wandering around with a vague notion in his head of "making it all work out with Maria."

The thought finally came into clear focus. He was too surprised to keep from blurting out the words.

"Well, then, you and me should get married. Maybe," he added hastily, seeing the storm signals.

There was a long silence.

"I mean… you wouldn't have to work or… and Dorma and my grandfather said they'd set me up. Um… Get some experience in trade. One of the colonies…" he trickled off into uncertainty.

"You're proposing to me," she said flatly. "To get me off the canals."

"Well, yes." Benito said awkwardly, flushing. "I thought it would be best."

"I don't."

"But… but you'd be rich and comfortable and…"

"And a canaler in the Casa Vecchie. No thank you. I won't marry for that reason."

Benito was bright red. "We could go to Corfu. Or Negroponte…"

"Oh, excuse me. Where Venice can't see me?" Maria's voice would have cut steel.

"I thought you would want to marry me. You don't have to," said Benito, beginning to get angry himself now.

His anger was nothing to her white-hot sarcasm. "Oh! What a favor the next Doge's brother-in-law's younger brother is doing me! A poor little canal-drab like me should be so delighted at his attentions. Well listen to me, Benito Valdosta… Va'funcula." And she turned and walked off to her gondola, leaving Benito still gawping at the obscenity. A few moments later she set off, a lone vessel heading up the Grand Canal into a virtually deserted Venice.

Benito wandered back. There didn't seem much point in staying here. He was not concentrating on his footsteps?or where he was going. It took severely disturbed concentration to walk into someone the size of Manfred. Benito managed it.

Manfred looked more amused than anything else. "Ah. My crazy young friend from our visit to the Dandelos, and a little assault in court-house! Dressed like a princeling, today, not an urchin, or a Dorma servant. What are you doing walking around with a face like your girlfriend just gave you some really bad news. What's wrong?"

Benito shrugged. "Women," he said trying to sound casual about it.

Manfred laughed. "I know what you mean. My uncle seems too fascinated by Francesca for her to have any time for me either. Can't figure it out. He's not even staring at her cleavage." His shrug was a massive copy of Benito's. "Women, just as you say. Let's go and find some wine. Wine always has time for us. And wine doesn't mind if you have another goblet of wine either."