by Aidan Harte
‘Well, this is a good sign,’ Pedro whispered.
‘Or bad,’ said Levi. ‘They must be really desperate.’
The smiling fellow who introduced himself as the Procurator of Saint Barabasso’s Basilica was full of old-fashioned courtesy to Sofia, who had agreed to Levi’s request that she resume her title for the trip, but when Levi introduced the procurator to Pedro, he took a reverent step back. ‘You’re the one who blocked Concord’s wave?’
‘Well, not on my own—’
The procurator waved away his protestations. ‘A Rasenneisi engineer: this is a sensation!’
The flattery was designed to put them at ease, but Pedro wasn’t fooled; every Etrurian knew that Ariminum had two faces: the newly acquired mask she presented to the land, and her true face, that looked always and hungrily to the Middle Sea.
Sofia had glimpsed a few of the famous canals on her previous visit, but she had had no leisure to pay them much attention. She was therefore both surprised and concerned when the procurator led their party down a side-alley to a dock where a large gondola was waiting in the still water. Pedro had no reservations and bounded in first. Sofia exchanged a glance with Levi and followed.
The gondolier, a silent Tyrolean slave with jaundiced skin, propelled them though a dark maze of canals, over which old tenement houses leaned confrontationally. Often the only thing holding them apart was a small humped bridge, though many of the bridges were dead-ends hanging pointlessly in space like spontaneous eruptions of masonry. Ariminum was a city raised from the waves, and everywhere Sofia looked, seaweed and barnacles knotted the church spires and fish flopped breathlessly on canal banks. Her Rasenneisi sense of direction was based on a topside vantage; after a few turns in this foggy netherworld she was quite lost. At least she now understood why the streets on her last visit had always been empty, except for a few bony dogs: the streets were for foreigners.
Here was Rasenna’s dark twin, a city connected by water. There were paths and piazzas like other towns, but here they flowed. The ‘streets’ were not uniformly deep: boats glided over one part; over another, people scurried across, getting soaked to their shins. A guideless foreigner would never survive this city. If he didn’t drown, the ubiquitous griffins would surely have him – they peeked out under bridges, loomed from rooftops and snarled from doorknobs, rendered in carved stone, cast bronze and beaten metal and embroidered on flags and crests.
The gondola escaped the pressing alleys at last and turned into a wide canal crossed by several bridges, each decorated distinctly – austere Etruscan, geometric Oltremarine, severe Concordian – although Pedro noticed that they all leapt the canal with an identical apogee arch. The bridges were laden with people, and the torches they carried danced with their reflections in the still bright evening.
‘You didn’t go to this trouble for us?’
The procurator shifted uncomfortably. ‘Oh, ah—’
‘They’re not well-wishers, Levi,’ Sofia said, ‘they’re fighters.’
‘I’m afraid the lovely Contessa is correct,’ the procurator said, still a little embarrassed. ‘This congregation is not in your honour – your visit, alas, has coincided with a rather violent rash of battaglia di pugni. But it should not cause any problems to you or any of the delegates, if you avoid certain neighbourhoods—’
He saw Levi’s scowl and quickly clarified, ‘Not that the State approves, you understand. We try to keep the peace between the Guilds; but every couple of years the arsenalotti and the merchants – that is, those who build ships and those who sail them – require another forum to thrash out their differences. Afterwards the map of ownership is redrawn, each ward gains a few new blocks here and loses a few there.’ They passed under the first bridge and the procurator looked up and said with condescending admiration, ‘Look at them. They fight for each inch with such passion.’
A man with a violently scarlet neckerchief fell, but was caught by another man in a scarlet chemise. The pair were promptly attacked by several men dressed in chequered grey.
‘What caused this outbreak?’ Pedro asked.
‘That question, dear boy, only a theologian could answer. I will say that the lower orders feel more freedom to express themselves when the government’s unpopular. But in truth, the Small People are like Stromboli, there’s no pattern to their eruption – not a night goes by without an altercation – a drunken first mate and arsenalotti dispute over money, women, what have you – but what makes a brawl turn into a city-wide tumult is beyond the ken of even the Consilium Sapientium.’
‘Homesick?’ Levi asked Sofia. She punched him in the arm, and asked the procurator who typically won.
‘They look evenly matched in terms of manpower,’ said Pedro.
‘Each party grows with our commercial shipping and navy respectively – and both are very bloated, I’m happy to report. I don’t presume to be a judge of fighters besides Rasenneisi, but I’m told the arsenalotti are tougher.’
‘The ones in grey?’
‘Just so, Contessa. There hadn’t been a battaglia since I was very young. But we had one immediately after news arrived that the Hawk’s Company had saved Rasenna—’
Levi looked coyly at Sofia, and she punched him again.
‘Well, everyone hates to bet on a loser, don’t they? The Doge wasn’t very popular. And now everyone’s out of sorts again – perhaps it’s this business in Dalmatia, or maybe revolt’s in the air – a wicked pollen, floating all over Europa and sowing conflagration where it alights. Watch out!’
Another body tumbled from the bridge and the splash was followed by a great cheer. The victim’s fellow Guildsmen efficiently fished him out with long gondolier oars.
‘Why do you allow it?’ Levi asked.
Sofia smiled at his gravity. He was accustomed to thinking as a podesta now.
The procurator made an anxious face. ‘We Ariminumese are conservative by nature. We respect the Guilds’ ancient privileges – although this one is relatively new, admittedly. It’s only been in existence a few centuries. Still, tradition is tradition.’
‘You mean it’s preferable they exhaust each other, rather than join forces against you.’
The procurator’s laugh was high and innocent. ‘You have it exactly, Contessa! Plain speaking’s a foreign tongue here, so I’m grateful for the opportunity to practise with a Rasenneisi. It is just so: if the Small People periodically require a riot, as long as it doesn’t interrupt the good order of the State or – Madonna forbid – commerce, then so be it. We think of the State as a ship: you can’t always expect peaceful waters. If our canals were as lethal as your rivers, we’d have to find another way to distract them. No reform is possible, so by necessity we make distraction a fine art. The book was closed centuries ago and now we must play our hand to the end.’ He pointed to a silver plaque on the bridge they were passing under. ‘My father was a boy when that bridge collapsed in the course of a particularly boisterous battaglia. That motto was inscribed upon it when it was rebuilt.’
Sofia read, ‘Cam’era, dov’era.’
‘That’s how we’d rebuild Ariminum if she burned tomorrow. As it was, where it was. We are condemned and committed to this place and we cannot escape it.’ He sighed romantically. ‘And nor would we wish to.’
‘At least you know you’re playing with fire,’ said Levi. Sofia knew his thoughts were back in Rasenna.
‘The battaglie are rather messy,’ he admitted, ‘but when tension builds up, better out than in – look at what’s happening in Concord. Everything’s turned upside down just because they are unaccustomed to choppy waters. It defies understanding, does it not, Maestro Vanzetti? Engineers of all people should appreciate the value of a release valve. When one runs into bad luck, someone must pay for it.’ He shook his head philosophically, then cleared his throat. ‘Speaking of dues, this misunderstanding we had with the Hawk’s Company during our last negotiations—’
‘There was no misunderstanding,’ sa
id Levi calmly. He and Sofia had both reconciled themselves to dealing with the man who’d betrayed John Acuto.
‘I admit the Doge made a terrible mistake, and naturally, you want revenge. But I hope you realise why handing over our leader would be unthinkable! The Doge is Ariminum—’
Sofia and Levi were tight-lipped.
‘—oh my, listen to the bells! We must hurry – I do hope they don’t start without us.’
CHAPTER 49
The slurred Ariminumese dialect is notorious, but the language of her bells is even more impenetrable. It is a rare foreigner who can distinguish the Campanile’s chimes and their meanings, rung out according to various combinations. Some tell the time: the Nona marks midday; the maragona rings at dawn and dusk. Others report governmental activities, a universal concern; the trottiera and the nezza terza announce meetings of the Consiglio and Senate respectively. Others announce public holidays; the malefrico, for example, announces executions, and when it rings nine peals of doubles an especially rare spectacle is in store.
from The Stones of Ariminum by
Count Titus Tremellius Pomptinus
They were close to the sea now. Great white gulls made lazy figure-eights overhead and the great canal was choked with barges coming and going to the harbour. The procurator noticed Pedro’s eyes fixed on the dark smoke columns.
‘I see you’ve guessed our destination, Maestro Vanzetti. Doubtless you’ll appreciate how rarely this opportunity is afforded to foreigners. Much of the work at the Arsenal is secret, but I’ll be happy to arrange a pass so you can visit whenever you wish during the negotiations.’
Before Pedro could say anything, Levi interrupted, ‘That may be … premature.’
The procurator smiled. ‘Of course, Podesta Levi. You’ve been very gracious not to dwell on how poorly you were dealt with at our last encounter.’
‘By “poorly” you mean—’
‘—I mean treacherously. That’s why I brought you this particular route.’
From nearby, a deafening cheer erupted suddenly, followed by cascading cannon-fire.
‘Oh, cazzo!’ the procurator swore. ‘Damn your sloth, Slave! I’ll have you scourged if we’ve missed it!’
Pedro smelled the familiar tang of foundry smoke, and something else – boiling tar? The procurator berated the silent gondolier to quicken his stroke and as they cleared the last bridge the canal bisected. They ignored the branch to the harbour and took the other, sailing into a solid greasy fog like that of Tartarus multiplied a hundredfold. They glided under a steel arch and between two tall, featureless walls lined with grim sentries towards a great shipyard emerging from the black smoke.
Pedro gasped at the tapestry of dense rigging between the ships, and the hardy workmen scrambling careless over this tangled net like ants: the arsenalotti in their element. The ships they tended were not the fat-bellied cogs that jostled in the harbour, but streamlined and multi-decked men-of-war bristling with shining black guns.
‘What say you, Maestro Vanzetti?’ said the procurator merrily. ‘Concord has its legions, but Ariminum has the Arsenale. However much Concord’s engineers dissect and prod, they will never understand water; it’s our natural element.’
‘Impressive,’ said Pedro. From any other, it would have sounded faint praise.
‘What does mastery of the seas matter when we have no rivals to contest it?’ the procurator said, glowing with false modesty. ‘But I didn’t bring you here to marvel at our navy; I wanted you to say farewell to the outgoing government. Alas, we missed their departure.’
Between two galleys stretched a rope, thick as a man’s waist, and from it eight naked bodies were hanging. Denuded of their official robes, the old men’s withered bodies looked pathetic and sad. As the gondola got closer, Sofia recognised the beak-nosed cadaver in the centre; his legs, brown with dribbling shit, were still dancing.
‘After Rasenna demonstrated Concordian vulnerability, we had to reconsider our policy.’
‘You hanged the Doge?’
‘Madonna! The very idea, Contessa! Executing a Doge is impossible. But arranging an election, that is a very simple thing, and when we took the corno from the Doge’s head and the ring from his finger, his Serenity became a simple citizen once more. He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood the ship can always find a new captain. Ariminum is bigger than any one man, any one family. Only continuity matters.’ The procurator had the modest smile of one who has done a great favour.
The macabre spectacle struck Sofia dumb, but Levi was smoothly diplomatic. ‘Thank you for this most thoughtful gesture.’
CHAPTER 50
Volume II: The City of Bridges THE EMPTY THRONE
Besides a talent for commerce, a true Ariminumese has an intuitive ability to navigate bureaucracy. The dense tiers of government are a topic as urgent for foreign merchants as the tides and currents of the lagoon are for sailors. Like any intricate work of art, it takes time and study to reveal its overall shape.
At the top is the Doge, who presides over the Signoria. Unlike the Signoria of other cities, Ariminum’s is a ceremonial body with few executive powers. It consists of seven Councillors13 and the three Heads of Forty, the leaders of the Senate. The Senate is made up of a select hundred and twenty ‘good’ men. Beneath the Senate is a Maggior Consiglio which rejoices in one thousand and one members. Participation in this last branch is restricted to those patrician families listed in the Golden Book.14
These ornate arrangements, though certainly picturesque, conceal the reality from foreigners. Real power in Ariminum is invested in a small side-branch of the Senate known as the Consiglio dei Dieci.15
CHAPTER 51
Knowing the Serenissima’s hospitality would not last a second longer than was expedient, the Rasenneisi did not stop to enjoy their sumptuous apartments, however magnificently decorated they were, and perfectly placed in the heart of the governmental quarter, with the fresh breeze from the harbour and the cooling shadow of Saint Barabbasso’s Basilica. Sofia and Levi were eager to explore the parts of Ariminum that had been out of bounds last time.
Pedro was only interested in the Arsenal.
The ship’s skeleton was encased and supported by a cage of scaffolding that didn’t appear equal to the task. One look at the elegantly carved spars told Pedro that the arsenalotti knew their trade. They were practical men, like him, who had learned their craft from their fathers: how to judge timber, how to spot rot and infection, when to use pine, when oak; how to steam wood, how to harden it, how to cut. The less skilful parts of construction were left to the numerous slaves whose destiny was to later row the very ships they were building.
A chorus of bells kept the arsenalotti dancing in time, but to guess their meaning was as impossible as saying where one ship’s rigging ended and another’s began. As Pedro watched, an entire galley was assembled in a few hours, and his incredulity turned to respect. He was astounded not just by the workers’ speed, but the efficiency with which their labour was divided. Ariminum was like the short-lived corporations Fabbro assembled before trading ventures: an unreal legal entity that sufficed to allow squabbling manufacturers, investors and merchants to work harmoniously for a time.
All these new warships bore out Levi’s suspicions too: the Ariminumese had a different conception of this League than everyone else.
The forest of dark ships in the harbour swayed gently on the water as small jetties darted between them and circled like kites, the tillermen unerringly finding the gaps. They heeled hard without ever slowing to bring themselves parallel, needing only a few braccia to execute such manoeuvres.
Sofia and Levi got used to sidestepping the heavy ropes thrown from fore and aft of the docking galleys. Opportunistic traders thronged the harbour with gangs of jostling slaves, offering to assist unloading whatever goods the ships carried in return for first preference to buy.
RAT–AT–TAT–TAT
The gangway bounced once, twice, and the slaves conti
nued their work but bowed automatically – they might not know the first man to disembark, but they could be certain he was important.
Most ships were unloading people, not produce – and well-dressed people, not slaves. ‘Refugees from the Ariminumese colonies on the far side of the Adriatic,’ Levi observed. ‘There’s what precipitated this summit. The greedy dogs don’t care a fig about Etruria; they only want Dalmatia back.’
While Levi cursed their hosts, Sofia remembered that day, nearly two years ago now, after she had uncovered John Acuto’s part in the Gubbio massacre, when she had sought passage to some distant land where betrayal, lies and blood were not currency. An old sailor bound for Oltremare told her that not even the Holy Land was free from that contagion. Wherever Man was, he’d said, you’ll find it.
She looked, but she couldn’t see his battered little cog amongst the docked ships. She wondered aloud if she might see him again.
‘Not likely,’ said Levi. ‘Relations with the Oltremarines are especially frosty of late.’
Sofia understood theoretically that neighbouring states were like neighbouring towers, best of friends or deadly enemies. ‘But what’s the point of hating someone so distant?’ she asked.
‘They share a border,’ Levi said, pointing to the sea.
‘How did they fall out?’
‘When someone depends on you, they’ll forgive any trespass. After the the Oltremarines finally broke the power of the Radinate, they didn’t need Etruria any more. Every foreign merchant was promptly expelled from Akka.’
‘The Ariminumese didn’t take it well?’
‘By then most of Etruria had decided that Crusade was a great waste of money; the Ariminumese started a whisper that gave them a pious excuse to abandon it for good.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Oh, the usual: that the Oltremarines had fallen into apostasy.’
