Stewart Binns - Anarchy

As the bucentaur passed each of the city’s quarters and districts, the State Herald announced to the crowd, ‘This is your Doge, if it please you!’ This was to remind the people that their new Doge was chosen on merit by his peers, not as a ruler by birthright. It was a way of ruling a domain not unlike Ancient Greece and Rome, a system that I have always thought had many merits – especially given what happened to me later in my life.

Barely a week later, when I was beginning to think it was time for me to try to get an appointment with Michele, I was summoned to see Raphael of Pesaro.

‘Well, it seems that your courage at Zadar has reached the ear of the new Doge. Congratulations.’

‘Thank you, Magister. You have been good to me and my men. I will always be grateful for that.’

‘You have served Venice well. I hope that Domenico Michele has something interesting for you. He’s a good man and a good soldier.’

I walked a lot taller and felt much more assured when Eadmer and I strode into the Great Council Chamber of the Doge’s palace for the second time. The generous bonus we had earned by the victory had allowed us to commission our own armour and weapons and buy the sort of fine-quality clothes worn by the elegant young men of Venice. My beard was fuller, and the Mediterranean sun had turned my skin the colour of almonds and put pale streaks in my dark-brown hair. My face was fully healed and my beard had filled out into a thick auburn sward. I began to think that I was passably handsome.

Domenico Michele was not as tall as his predecessor, nor as heavily set. He was a much younger man, his hair and beard still black with not a hint of grey, and he had the air of a man who inspired confidence in those around him. His court seemed more relaxed than that of the previous Doge. There were laughter and broad smiles, whereas Faliero’s court was more like an austere military high command.

For this audience, the Chamberlain did not need to prompt the Doge with my name.

‘Harold of Hereford, you are welcome. I have been reading the account of the taking of Zadar. You fought with great courage.’

He nodded at the Chamberlain, who began to read from a page of a bound vellum book.

‘“The English knight, Harold of Hereford, acquitted himself with great distinction on the walls of Zadar. He led his squad in a perilous assault on a scaling ladder, before despatching several of the enemy in single combat on the city ramparts to secure a vital piece of ground.”’

As I bowed to the Doge, Eadmer smiled at me and nodded his approval, and applause broke out in the chamber. It was a moment to cherish.

The Chamberlain then raised his hand and addressed the assembled audience.

‘Harold of Hereford, Knight of England, you are to be installed as a Knight of the Serene Republic of Venice. Please kneel.’

The Doge stood, his ermine cape gleaming in the rays of the sun that were streaming through the windows of the Great Council Chamber. He drew his sword to place it against my cheek.

‘Stand as a Cavaliero of Venice, Harold of Hereford.’

The Doge then gestured to one of his stewards, who stepped forward with a scarlet cushion from which he took a small circular medal embossed with the winged lion of the city. It shone with the buttery glimmer of gold as he tied it around my neck with a crimson ribbon.

‘You have been awarded the Order of San Marco for your gallantry at Zadar. The Order is restricted to forty living knights and you will join four other men who, following their bravery in Dalmatia, have also entered the Order today.’

‘I am deeply humbled, Most Serene Prince. And proud to have served Venice and its Doge.’

‘Ordelafo Faliero thought very highly of you, as does the whole city.’

The Doge turned to his steward.

‘A chair for the Cavaliero.’

He beckoned me to sit.

‘I have a commission for you. Raphael, Master of the Arsenale, has told me about your family’s pedigree and of your desire to go to the Holy Land.’

‘I am proud of my lineage, Serenity. The Holy Land and the Great Crusade are an important part of my background. I was there as a child, but was too young to remember. One day soon, I want to go back.’

‘Then you shall. My sister, the Lady Livia Michele, is betrothed to Roger of Salerno, Regent of Antioch. I have asked Raphael of Pesaro to take a sabbatical as Master of the Arsenale to command a squadron of marines to escort Lady Livia to Antioch. He has chosen you as his third-in-command.’

‘That is a great honour, Serenity. I am indebted to you and to Raphael of Pesaro.’

‘You have deserved the commission. Bring Lady Livia there safely. You sail in a week. Go well, Cavaliero.’

I bowed and backed away, hardly able to contain my excitement. Then, as Eadmer and I left the Great Council Chamber, gliding towards us, accompanied by several ladies-in-waiting and two Republican Guards, materialized a vision more beautiful than Venice itself: La Serenissima’s most serene being.

‘Is that who I think it is?’

Eadmer did not answer; he was too busy observing the apparition walking away from us.

Tied at the waist by a dark-blue tasselled cord, she wore a figure-fitting pale-blue kirtle of fine silk covered by a flowing mantle of cobalt-blue velvet that trailed at least a yard behind her. A wimple of fine white silk, which perfectly framed the symmetry of her face, covered her hair. Her lips glowed deep red with the ruby wax favoured by Arab women, and her pale-grey eyes contrasted sharply with her flawless ochre skin. She did not smile. She did not need to; her face was the essence of her city’s legendary name – serenity.

‘She nodded at me!’ I whispered to Eadmer.

‘She did not.’

‘I’m telling you–’

‘Wishful thinking, Hal.’

‘We’ll see…’

I was certain that the girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, saw my Order of San Marco around my neck and acknowledged me with the slightest nod of her head. I was also certain that she was the Lady Livia, the treasure we were to deliver to Roger of Salerno.

My heart raced – I felt like a young boy casting his eyes on his first true love.

My next encounter with Lady Livia was when she boarded the Candiano , our galley for the crossing to the coast of the Holy Land at Seleucia Pieria at the mouth of River Orontes, south-west of Antioch. It would be a difficult journey of many days, along the east coast of the Adriatic and the entire length of the south coast of Anatolia. At least the menace of the Paganian pirates had been eradicated in Dalmatia. However, the Anatolian coast was also perilous. Although nominally under Byzantine control, its rule was fragile, with many hostile Seljuk Turks operating in the hinterland and many buccaneers hiding in its remote coves and inlets. Anchoring close to the shore for water and supplies, or when in need of shelter, would require vigilance.

A small private cabin had been built behind the helm on the galley’s quarterdeck to allow Lady Livia some privacy. It had its own commode, as well as bunks for her and her two ladies-in-waiting.

The presence of ladies on board meant that pissing over the rail was banned for the duration of the voyage, and everyone but the ladies had to use the communal privy at the bow. The arrangements were a source of great mirth among the ship’s company. Forward latrines were always called ‘the heads’ in naval parlance – because of their position on the ship – and it did not take long for the ladies’ commode to be christened ‘the arses’!

Lady Livia came on board with all the ceremony appropriate for a woman who was about to be the instrument of an alliance between the Republic of Venice and the Christian Princes of the Holy Land. Besides her ladies-in-waiting and Republican Guards, she was accompanied by two members of Venice’s Grand Council, who each had their own entourage.