Stewart Binns - Anarchy

We then spent what was left of the night curled up together like pups in a litter. We recited prayers, sang songs, repeated old tales and legends and counted the stars to stay awake. Although we were far from safe, and faced an uncomfortable night, at least we would see the sunrise in the morning – unlike our ill-fated companions whose remains would serve only to feed the creatures of the deep.

By morning, when the first rays of the sun began to warm us, there were only seven survivors of the Domenico Contarini – and two of those were not in good condition.

With the low sun behind it, we then got the first glimpse of the small island of Bisevo that would offer us salvation. Just three miles west of Vis, the strong south-westerly wind had propelled us within touching distance of its shore. Despite my fragile condition, I roused myself sufficiently to get Eadmer and the men to use their hands as oars to get us on to the beach.

It was like arriving in paradise: the beach glistened with golden sand, the hillsides were swathed in abundant pine trees, and a gentle breeze moderated the heat of the hot sun. Home to a colony of Benedictine monks, the island’s twelve resident brothers rushed to help us within minutes of spotting our raft on the beach. Realizing that we were not the pirates who infest their shore, but rather their hapless victims, they soon fed and watered us, dressed our wounds and placed us in the shade to sleep and recover from our ordeal.

Over the ensuing weeks, we learned a good deal about the pastoral charms and exacting rigours of being a Benedictine monk, especially when scratching a self-sufficient existence on a remote Adriatic island surrounded by ruthless pirates. We also discovered a good deal about the pirates who had ambushed us. Paganians by name, a Slavic tribe, they had lived on the islands off the coast of Dalmatia for centuries, supplementing with piracy the meagre agricultural existence offered by the harsh limestone islands. They would trade their loot with any passing merchants who dared to enter their waters. Any rich prisoners they snared were ransomed, while the less valuable ones were sold into slavery.

The monks had to buy their trouble-free life with butts of olive oil, which the pirates came to collect twice a year. The Benedictines had few other visitors and kept only a small skiff for rowing to Vis in an emergency. They helped us build a good shelter and fed us until we were able to fend for ourselves. The island of Bisevo had fresh water, a little game in the interior and plenty of fresh fish teeming in its waters. Within a few weeks, we were all recovered from our various injuries and fit and eager to return to Venice.

As leader of our small band, I took the decision not to use the monks’ skiff to row us to Vis, as the island was controlled by the Paganians. However, that meant that we had to wait for sight of a friendly trader – a rare occurrence that had not happened since the turn of the year. It was a long wait, and I questioned the wisdom of my decision more than once.

We did not see a passing trader until the bitterly cold days of November 1117, by which time Bisevo had lost much of its idyllic charm to monotonous boredom. The tranquil life of monks was not for us. When we eventually caught sight of a ship, it turned out to be part of a large flotilla of Venetian traders, guarded by three large war galleys. We said our grateful goodbyes to the monks who had helped us and left for Venice, feeling hugely relieved.

There was amazement on board our rescue ship that they had stumbled across seven fellow-Venetians and that we had survived the demise of the Domenico Contarini . It had been assumed in Venice that she had gone down and that all had perished with her. Our rescuers’ amazement slowly turned to admiration as the details of the battle circulated across the flotilla.

Within days of our arrival at the Arsenale, we were lauded for our courage and resolve, especially for our final redoubt on the burning deck, a story that became embellished in the telling as ‘The Domenico ’s English Shield Wall’.

I hoped of course that news of our redoubt and survival might reach the ear of the Doge, and a few days later I received the news I wanted from Raphael Pesaro, Master of the Arsenale.

‘You have been summoned to the palace to see Ordelafo Faliero. It is a great honour.’

‘Thank you, Magister.’

‘Word has gone around the Arsenale about the young Englishman. You did well to get the men home; you won their respect.’

‘I appreciate your kind words.’

‘But remember, the Doge is a difficult man. Mind what you say. He’s going to war against the Hungarians again, and he may want you to go with him. Be clear in your mind what you want to do if he offers you the option. He won’t like it if you’re indecisive.’

‘I thank you for the advice.’

I then talked to some of the senior knights commanding the Doge’s marines about the campaigns against the Hungarians, and later that evening I discussed the situation with my men.

‘Raphael of Pesaro thinks the Doge may ask us to join his campaign against the Hungarians. Are you happy with that?’

As usual, Eadmer spoke first.

‘Do we have to fight the Hungarians at sea?’

‘No, the Doge’s knights have told me that the Hungarian king, Colomon, became ruler of Venice’s rival city, Zadar, a few years ago. But he has just died and the Doge thinks King Stephen, his son, is weak and that it’s a good time to strike at the city. He believes the Hungarians have made a secret pact with the Paganian pirates and he wants to punish them for it. We will embark as a fleet, but make a landing north of Zadar. It is on the Dalmatian coast, not far from our sanctuary on Bisevo, but we will attack by land.’

‘As long as we don’t have to fight with fire and water around our ankles, as we did on the Domenico , we’re in.’

We all smiled ruefully at one another.

‘We will fight in the name of Alric.’

Wulfric bowed his head.

‘He died trying to keep me alive. I will never forget that.’

I reached out and put my hand on Wulfric’s shoulder.

‘He got his wish in the end. He always wanted to fight.’

My gesture towards Wulfric seemed to meet with Eadmer’s approval. He gave me a short nod and a warm smile of endorsement before also putting his hand on our friend’s shoulder. I then reached out to Toste and placed my other hand on his arm.

‘We are just four now. Let’s keep it that way.’

The Doge’s palace was even more remarkable than I had imagined. Built by the side of the Canalazzo, the Grand Canal of the city, it towered over the waterfront as a symbol of the power of Venice. Flying high from its roof was the crimson flag of the Republic, with its golden winged lion emblazoned at its centre.

Entrance to the palace was gained by gondola through arches at the water’s edge, which opened to a dock beneath a grand staircase leading to the receiving rooms. There plaintiffs and their lawyers waited for hours for an audience with the Grand Council or the Doge himself. I took Eadmer with me for the audience. We had washed ourselves and cleaned our clothes. But as we had lost our weapons and armour at sea, we were unarmed and looked a little impoverished amidst the splendour that surrounded us.

When we arrived at the Great Council Chamber, it was as big as a city market. Its walls were adorned with frescoes and tapestries, and its floors were covered in carpets the size of a yeoman’s house. My mother had told me many times about the wonders of Constantinople and the splendours of the Emperor’s palace, the Blachernae, but what we saw here made us gawp in wonder.

As well as being the elected leader of the Most Serene Republic of Venice, the Doge was also a soldier. The present incumbent, Ordelafo Faliero, had personally commanded a Venetian fleet of a hundred ships to assist Baldwin I, King of Jerusalem, and Sigurd I, King of Norway, in capturing the city of Sidon in the Holy Land in 1110.