Chapter 61
Marco handed Lodovico and Benito each a goblet of wine. 'Bespi and my horses will be along from the border shortly. Petro, Kat and Grandfather are coming as soon as they can get to horse—and I expect that the treaty negotiations will be completed, if not within hours of my leaving, possibly in the saddle. We couldn't all leave without breaking the whole thing up, and we'd come a long way toward concluding a treaty. But when the word came about you—the siege—I knew I had to get here before someone managed to silence Benito. Or worse. Make him disappear, maybe. The moment I crossed the border and I could invoke the Lion, I did so, and I left my horses in Bespi's hands. I'm afraid—or perhaps I should say, I am glad—flying as the Lion in broad daylight is something that no one can silence; everyone in Venice knows that when the Lion flies, Venice is in danger, so besides getting here faster, it let everyone in the city know that
'Um,' Benito said. He felt odd. Humbled. To be the center of
Marco smiled. 'To be honest, all of this uncertainty since the Emperor's illness, and all of the conflicting rumors and reports, could have served us a backhanded good turn. Ferrara and Venice would have been a lot less obliging and conciliatory if they hadn't been spooked. As it is, it looks to me as if we'll get a good deal, which will improve security, benefit trade, and sideline Milan a bit further.'
'Sounds good, Brother,' Benito replied, trying to regain a bit of his composure. 'But when I've finished drinking this, I need to get along to the Imperial embassy and show the ambassador my head.'
Marco blinked. 'Your head?'
Benito chuckled. 'Come along and see.'
* * *
Count Von Stemitz at the embassy was a very urbane and unflappable man, as a rule. But he looked a little taken aback at being told to feel in the hair behind the grubby, scruffy-looking young man's left ear. 'There should be a lump there,' said Benito.
'Er. Yes,' said the Count rather gingerly. He'd met Benito before, briefly. Now, vouched for by Marco, whom he knew well, and Lodovico Montescue, who was a long-time friend, Von Stemitz was prepared to accept that this tousle-headed sailor was in fact the
'Cut it out, please,' asked Benito unable to refrain from grinning. 'I hope you have a sharp knife.'
The grin plainly worried the count. 'This is not one of your practical jokes is it, Signor Valdosta?'
'It's not my joke. If it's anyone's, it's Prince Manfred's.'
Now that he was near to the end of this, Benito was beginning to feel all of it catching up to him. He was going to eat his way down the banquet table, and then sleep for a week. 'And being funny is not its purpose. Believe me, I'm going to be glad not to have that lump there. A girl in Calabria tried to run her fingers through my hair and nearly pulled it out by the— Ow! You should sharpen that thing.'
Count Von Stemitz stood examining the Imperial seal of the Hohenstauffen Dynasty. 'I presume you are going to explain this. It is not used in jests,' he said dryly.
'Oh, its purpose is earnest enough. Manfred just said I was the scruffiest personal letter he'd ever sent. We were in a situation where actually carrying a letter would be dangerous, given the possibility of a search. So this seal is to authenticate that I have come from the prince. I must tell you that he and his men are under siege in the Citadel on Corfu. Both King Emeric of Hungary and the Byzantines are laying siege to the fortress. The prince conveys his respects to his uncle, and asks for whatever assistance might be brought to their rescue.'
Lodovico chuckled. 'A talking letter. These modern advances! What will they think of next, eh, Hendrik?'
The Count had to smile too. 'It's a very serious matter . . . but maybe cleaner envelopes? Well, if you will excuse me, gentlemen. A letter, slightly more conventional in form perhaps, must be dispatched to Mainz with the fastest messengers. I have a fit young
'Good,' said Lodovico. 'Because I think the biggest problem with a relief force will be ships to transport them. Venice's fleets are away. We'll need ships from further afield. Few of the other Mediterranean powers are likely to wish to help us. Perhaps they will oblige the Emperor.'
Benito hadn't thought of that. And ten to one, neither had Manfred.
The Count nodded, sighing. 'We will surely find that Emeric has tried to prevent others coming to your rescue. I imagine part of the Hungarian's strategy is to get Alexius VI to trap the eastern fleet in the Black Sea. The western fleet is another question. Do you think the Barbary pirates may be involved?'
Benito bit his lip. 'I don't know, milord. But this I will tell you: Eneko Lopez believes Grand Duke Jagiellon is also involved in all this. And that means Lithuania and its allies. And now, if you'll excuse us, Count. You have letters to write. And we have the Arsenal to visit. They'll be working night and day until another fleet is ready.'
* * *
The situation at the Arsenal, Benito had to admit, was worse than he had hoped. Doge Giorgio Foscari had let the old policy of keeping a number of spare vessels in readiness, just needing to be rigged, lapse. The Senate had recently passed a new appropriation to restart the program, but it was still in its infancy. Only two extra new keels had been laid. The work had of course been proceeding on seven new great galleys to replace existing but elderly vessels, but the Arsenal simply didn't have a new fleet ready to sail. At least twenty great galleys would be needed, and three times that number of smaller galleys.
'How long?' asked Benito.
The representative of the Admiral of the Arsenal shrugged. 'Six to eight months, milord. We'll start launching the smaller vessels within two, but it all takes time. We can't just throw money and resources at the problem: The limit is skilled manpower. You can't make shipwrights overnight, and they've got to sleep sometimes.'
It was not what Benito had wanted to hear.
* * *
