Part II - Late 1419
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Sea of Marmara, Aug 1419
The Sailor and his mate leaned on their oar and panted for air.
“You know this isn’t what I had in mind when you got me into this,” whined the mate, “you said we would travel the Mediterranean on all sorts of adventures.”
“What do you mean? We defeated that Byzantine navy last month, wasn’t that exciting?”
“You mean the Ottomans defeated them we just happened to be caught in the middle of it. I mean that when I joined the navy I didn’t picture myself to be stuck to this oar all day long next to you on a crowded ship carrying thousands of drunk soldiers to who knows where whilst having a criminal of a superior whipping me every minute.”
“Get back to work you useless mongrels” cried the whipper as another blow cracked across both their backs.
After they got their oar back into the rhythm of the ship the Sailor responded “It’s not all bad at least we haven’t been killed or injured.” Right as he said that he heard a whistle come through the air and looked up just in time to see a cannonball splash right next to the tip of their oar soaking the Soldier, the mate and the whipper.
“What did you do that for, you fool? Now look I’m all wet” cried the mate as he accused the Sailor of poor oarsmanship.
“By the Grace of Athena that was a cannonball!” announced the whipper before the Sailor could defend himself. “They’re firing at us from the walls!” This created all sorts of panic amongst the already crowded galley. The soldiers tried to run for cover as the sailors tried to do the same. The whippers tried their best to hold them down whilst the officers, who were trying to organize their evasion, seeked out the whippers to execute the orders. The whole ordeal almost caused the vessel to capsize and it would take a few minutes for it to all settle down.
“Alright everybody listen up,” began the captain, “We seem to be within range of their guns, which we never knew they had, so we have to fall back a bit to get out of their range. Instead of landing at that beach over there” pointing to the secluded white beach within a few hundred metres of Constantinople’s walls “we’re going to have to land over there” pointing to a desolate rugged cliff-face about 5 miles from the city.
There was uproar amongst the soldiers but that was soon taken care of by the whippers.
“Well if you don’t like it we can drop you off there” pointing to the Asian side of the Bosphorus “and you can swim across yourselves.”
As the following murmur subsided another cannonball landed nearby which once again startled the ship.
“All right men, lets turn this baby around before they score one”
That was the signal for the whippers to get to work. Crack after crack across back after back. The sailor and the mate pulled as hard as their arms would pull but as another cannonball splashed nearby, the whippers took their fear out through their whips and the Sailor and the mate cried out in agony.
“Yeh we’re not getting injured at all” complained the mate. “I wish a never let you talk me into joining.” And so the argument continued…
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Firenze, Firenze, Aug 1419
The Emissary followed the footman into the palace grounds past the ever expanding renaissance constructions throughout the city. He was directed into a waiting room and told that he would have to wait for his audience. It was to be the Emissary’s first official meeting after only receiving his commission two months earlier.
To settle his nerves he remembered what his teacher had told him, “When in Rome, do as Romans do.” The Emissary tried to apply that phrase to his current situation. “Well I’m not in Rome, I’m in Florence. But Florence is close to Rome so what does that mean? Should I do as Romans sometimes do?” thought the Emissary as he now found himself confused as well as nervous.
As he pondered this predicament he decided to look around the room. Across from him was another man, equally nervous, sitting down clutching some papers. He decided to walk over and introduce himself, he always felt more comfortable talking to people.
“Are you here for an audience with the Senate too?” began the Emissary.
“Yeh, they’re running late as usual,” muttered the man.
“Well this is my first time here, I wouldn’t know,” responded the Emissary. “I’m from Athens.”
“From Athens?” the man had found life, “I wanted to go to Athens to get some inspiration for my artwork. I hear the Temple of Athena is marvelous.”
“Its true, and By the Grace of Athena most of it is still intact. So you’re an artist?” queried the Emissary.
“Yes, sculptures mainly. The Senate asks me to decorate their new works and I come back a month or two later to show them my plans. Would you like to have a look at some of the plans I have today?”
“Sure!” said the Emissary as the sculptor organised his papers.
“This one here is the main one I’m planning. It’s for the area directly under the new dome in the cathedral. It’s a reconstruction of the birth of Jesus.” The Emissary studied the plan with awe, until he noticed something amiss.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to insult your work or anything, it looks incredible, it’s just that…well…why does Mary have a beard?” asked the Emissary with utmost diplomacy. The sculptor grabbed the papers hurriedly and reviewed his plans.
“Your right! How could I make such a foolish mistake! I have to go back to my workshop and change the whole thing” The sculptor rose to his feet and shook the Emissary’s hand.
“Thank you sir. You prevented me from looking foolish in front of the Senate. Had they seen this they surely would not hire me again. Thank you!” And with that the sculptor hurriedly left the building audibly cursing himself under his breath.
It was straight after he left that the door to the audience chamber opened and a doorman called out “Mr Donatello, the Senate will see you now.” With nobody else left in the room the Emissary realised that the sculptor must have been Donatello and spoke up: “I’m afraid Mr Donatello has just left.”
“Well in that case,” the doorman consulted his list “It’s your turn.”
And with that the Emissary of the Duchy of Athens went in to tell the Senate of Tuscany that his Duke would no longer pay tribute to Florence. The Emissary spoke well gaining confidence from Donatello’s misfortune and held his own despite the anger and disapproval amongst the politicians and, when the meeting was over, headed back to Athens triumphant. The Duke would be pleased.
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Constantinople, Thrace, Sept 1419
The Knight was walking around making sure the base camp was being set up correctly. He knew from experience that sieges could last well over a year and he would need to construct a base camp that was durable enough to resist the weather and changing conditions. It was at this time that his scout returned to the camp from his morning wander.
“So what news?” asked the Knight
“Well sir, it seems as though we’re not the only ones besieging Constantinople. There are Tuscans further up the wall and I could see Ottomans over the far side near the river.”
“This is great news. We should organise a meeting…no a feast! Go back along the wall and tell them to meet here tonight at sunset and we’ll start organising” The Knight was now as excited as he had been since the Olympic Ball two years previous for he could once again show off his noble courtliness and splendorous hospitality.
The Knight burst into the main tent with sense of purpose and was followed by his sergeant and squire and other personal staff.
“Alright, Squire I would like you to bring the long table into here, we’ll arrange it lengthways so as to best utilize the space,” began the Knight.
“Umm sir, we don’t have the long table with us” said the Squire.
“Why on earth not? I told you to bring it with us”
“Yes sir but I’m afraid it wouldn’t fit on the boat not with the thousands of men. The captain complained about its weight.”
“It’s weight! It’s made from the finest Red Cedar in the whole Aegean. Did you get him to smell it? It’s lavish. Oh well never mind we’ll just have to make our own. Take some men and cut down some of those trees in that forest we passed on the way here, they weren’t Cedars but they’ll have to do.”
“Sir, may I ask how large you will need it? How many people will be at the feast?”
“Well that’s quite simple really, I imagine it will be the Sergeant and I as well as the interpreter, then the Tuscans will probably bring their leader and sergeant as well and knowing the Ottomans they’ll bring their leader and his whole family. You had better make room for 10.”
And so the planning went on for the next several hours as the Knight tried to make his frugal tent look like a luscious dining room. He would not be content with anything secondary as this dinner would be more a statement of his social skills than a scrumptious meal. In fact it wasn’t until after lunch that he had discussed the food itself. Finally, just as the Knight was supervising the embroidery for the serviettes, the scout arrived back at the camp.
“Sir!” He cried as he struggled to gain the Knight’s attention. “Sir I bring bad news from up the line. It seems neither the Ottomans or the Tuscans will be able to come tonight.”
“You’re kidding!” exclaimed the Knight, “Why not?”
“Well sir, it seems as though the Ottoman leader has gone back to Bursa for the weekend whilst the Tuscan leader is suffering from gastritis at the moment. However as a show of goodwill he will be sending his sergeant along.”
“By the Grace of Athena this is a disaster!” cried the Knight. “I’ve gone to all this trouble to set this thing up and now nobody is coming.”
“Well what about the sergeant sir?” asked the scout
“I don’t give a damn about the sergeant. I’m not going to show off my magnificence to a commoner like him, he’s not worth it.”
“And what about the food sir? It will all be wasted. Should we ration out amongst the army?” asked the sergeant.
“That grade of meat and wine? I think not, it would only raise their expectations. We’ll keep the meat between ourselves and I’ll have the wine sent in to my tent, I’ll need it after today.” And with that the Knight retired to his tent.
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END PART II