Daughters of the Doge (14 page)

My companion had noticed my instinctive movement and laughed. ‘You are right, although the worst of the waste is removed by special boats and spread on the fields across the lagoon. That’s why they grow such good vegetables over there. As for drinking-water, most of the houses are built around a courtyard and each of these has a
cisterna –
a well, used to collect the rainwater and from which good, fresh water emerges.’

I felt relieved, and returned to the architecture, but without putting my fingers back in the water. We passed the Palazzo Loredan and began to turn east, the breeze freshening as we approached the open sea, the smell of marine air assailing our nostrils and the gondola bobbing for the first time, on light waves. The shadow of the Palazzo Contarini shielded us from the sun, but only for an instant; then we were back out in the bright sunlight and passing the Ca’ Grande, heading for open water and smacking into the growing waves as we did so.

Finally the canal widened, and as we reached the open sea we saw the
campanile
of San Marco reaching high into the sky to our left. This, I knew from walking here days before, meant we were approaching the Doge’s Palace. We prepared to go ashore. The gondola deposited us on the Molo San Marco jetty and as we stepped ashore the bells of the
campanile
rang two o’clock; we were early, and had an hour to wait before we attended the earl’s presentation to the Doge.

We found a small tavern beside the Piazza San Marco, ordered some fish, bread and wine, and waited. For much of the morning, a question had been flitting in and out of my mind and now I had to ask it. ‘Thomas, this may be a silly question, after spending so many weeks travelling to get here, but how long do you expect to stay here with His Grace? What do you think we are going to do here?’

Thomas had a particular smile which he adopted when replying to my more stupid questions, and he wore it now.

‘The truth is, Richard, I don’t know. When Edward Courtenay first mentioned his desire to travel here, it set my mind to thinking of all the learned people I had met whilst in this part of the world – especially at the university in Padua – and I developed a strong desire to see them once again in my life, and to renew my learning, while I still have the energy to make the journey. When I returned to Devon, I talked about it to Dorothy, and was surprised to find her very supportive. She agreed I should make the journey if I wanted to, but asked me, if possible, not to be away from home for longer than six months. I told her that might be difficult, that I would do my best, but promised that on no account would I remain away from home for longer than a year.

‘As for what we do while we are here, you have your freedom. I know the earl wishes to take up a long-standing invitation from Duke Ercole d’Este in Ferrara, and he knows that I will want to spend some more time in Padua before I eventually return home. Apart from that, we have made no specific commitments to each other. For your own position, I should be pleased to introduce you to the many friends I still have in the university in Padua, should you decide to follow my example and apply to take a degree in medicine there. I still believe you are well suited to my profession, and as you have heard me say very many times, I believe there to be no finer place to learn it than Padua.’

The food arrived and we began to eat. Thomas continued, between mouthfuls.

‘I believe the earl will continue to pay our major expenses while we remain with him, but once he – or we – decide that we shall go our separate ways, we will be on our own and fending for ourselves. Do you have anything specific in mind, Richard?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Nothing at all. When we left England I had a purpose. It was, I suppose, largely a negative one – to escape the oppression I felt was worsening in our society and to breathe the fresh air of freedom elsewhere. I had a dream of Padua and of Venice, but apart from visualizing an exciting new country, endless warm sun and, in the latter case, a lot of water, I really had no end in mind, save getting here. Now we are here, I feel a bit at a loss, and – well, itchy.’

‘Itchy?’

‘I feel unsettled. I like to know where I am and where I am going to, and at present I know neither, and furthermore I cannot even guess what, or who, will decide those things for me. Nominally, I am the earl’s personal secretary, but since all his letters seem to be in English and he prefers to write them himself, I seem to have no purpose.’

Thomas wiped his plate clean with the last of his bread. ‘Give it a month, and then we will talk about it again. We shall not be here for long and then you will regret not making the most of the visit while you had the time. There is much to see here and I am sure you will soon meet a number of interesting people. If at any time you decide you want to travel to Padua, I will accompany you. In the meantime, let us enjoy the city. We are starting at the top, for we shall meet the Doge himself in less than half an hour.’

He was right, of course, and we made our way back into the sun of the piazza to join our companion for his presentation.

C
HAPTER
16

Evening, February the 4th 1556 – Outside the Palazzo Ducale

‘Courtenay has become very friendly with Peter Vannes, wouldn’t you say?’

The earl had been treated like royalty, for Doge Francesco Venier, a frail old man but with eyes that still burned bright with intelligence, had referred to Edward Courtenay as ‘the last of the ancient and mighty Plantagenet kings’, whilst the Council of Ten had welcomed him with the fullest honour. The presentation had lasted for an hour and the earl had clearly enjoyed every moment of it, and his opinion of himself had quickly recovered. When, as we were leaving, Thomas had remarked how well the Council of Ten and the Doge had greeted him, Courtenay had replied, ‘No more than my status deserves.’

It seemed the other Courtenay had returned; would he be calling me ‘Wichard’ again soon, I wondered?

Finally, our companion had chosen to join Vannes for dinner and Thomas and I decided to walk home slowly, enjoying the evening. We struck north through the narrow lanes of San Marco until we reached the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, a huge warehouse near the Rialto, where the German traders worked and lodged and where we thought we might find some of the German food we had so enjoyed during our journey. We were in luck and, for the second time that day, settled back at a table with food and wine, this time with a great deal more to talk about.

Once we had stepped through one of its great arches, the structure and purpose of the building became clear, for the centre was one huge courtyard, perhaps fifty yards across, which obviously served as a great trading floor during the day. Now, as evening drew on, the day’s trading had all but finished, and the space had been filled with tables, at which exhausted German merchants and their equally exhausted customers settled their day’s work over a drink or two and something to eat.

As we sat at our table, we looked around us. The walls of the courtyard inside the
fondaco
were covered by frescoes, two of which, the waiter told us, were by Giorgione and another by Titian. Opposite them, displayed in a temporary framework, was a quite different painting, an oil painting on heavy board entitled
Our Lady of the Rosary,
depicting Our Lady, with the child presenting wreaths of roses to church and state dignitaries. It was a powerful painting and as we waited for our food to be cooked, we examined it.

‘Do you like it?’ A well-dressed German merchant stood beside us, clearly proud of the picture. ‘It has an interesting story It was painted fifty years ago by a German artist, Albrecht Dürer, and shows how the German community here represents an outpost of the Holy Roman Empire. You can see Pope Julius II with the Emperor Maximilian I. It was commissioned by the Imperial Secretary – that man there, in blue; he is a Croat, by the name of Jakob Bannissuus Dalmata. It’s powerful isn’t it? The painting is due to make an altarpiece in the German Church of St Bartholomew, but is resting here while work is completed in the church. I like to remind Venetians that not every good painter is Italian.’

We shook his hand and agreed the work was indeed fine. ‘Herr Dürer is not the only great German painter known to us,’ I teased.

‘No?’ His interest was clearly aroused and he waited for my explanation.

‘I should explain, we are English, not Italian, and we are familiar with the portraits of Johannes Holbein.’

Our friend arched his back proudly. ‘Holbein. Oh yes, another good son of Augsburg. You have been there?’

We smiled. ‘Indeed, on our journey here from England. A fine city, and wealthy.’

He nodded his satisfaction. ‘Did you see the Fuggerei?’

We shook our heads.

‘It is, I believe, the best of German social thinking. An example of how our wealth should be used to the benefit of the community. It is a large dwelling house, built by the Fugger family, where the poor can reside at a fixed annual rent. You must ask to see it on your return journey.’ His invitation sounded more like an instruction. We thanked him and turned back to our table as our food arrived.

‘You like German food also,’ he said. ‘Clearly men of judgement. I will wish you good day, gentlemen, and
mahlzeit
!’
–
he leaned forward for emphasis – ‘good appetite!’

The stranger walked away, clearly proud of his little piece of English, and we sat at the laden table. I was keen to ask Thomas what he had thought of this afternoon’s presentation. Thomas, it seemed, was equally eager to discuss the day’s events.

‘Well,’ he began, ‘what did you think of the way they welcomed Courtenay?’ It was the very question I had intended to ask him.

‘I thought the setting was magnificent. If ever there was an example of how to use a building to support diplomacy, the Doge’s Palace must be it. Everything was beautifully arranged, like a dance, and everyone knew his place and performed as required. I could not fault them for that, but having seen the process in reverse, with King Edward setting out to impress the French ambassadors, and with my master at that time explaining each step to me as it unfolded, somehow I felt the whole thing was too choreographed, and as such, meaningless and insincere. I lost interest completely when they were doing all their diplomatic flummery and excessive praise – it’s all meaningless bluster – and, instead, I started looking at that map on the wall behind the Doge. I am not sure you noticed it; the one of the whole Mediterranean Sea.’

Thomas laughed out loud, his voice echoing loudly from one wall to another, so that a number of the German merchants around us looked up to see what the joke was.

‘Yes, I know – I was thinking the same thoughts, and looking at the same map. I could not help thinking, as I looked at it, that the world of trade is changing fast.’

‘As is the world of religion.’ Perhaps it was the Lutheran surroundings here in the German trade centre, but the words had leaped from my mouth before I had fully considered them. I saw Thomas’s eyes level as he looked back at me. I knew he did not share my view about the inevitability of the religious revolution that was sweeping through Europe.

‘I am not sure you are right about that, Richard, but for the benefit of my digestion, let’s stay with the original discussion.’

I was embarrassed, and sorry I had let that awkward thought escape. ‘I agree. Another thing that has undoubtedly changed is the Council of Ten’s response to Courtenay. He was studiously ignored when we first arrived here. I cannot believe anyone arrives in the city – certainly not nobility taking rooms at the
Leon Bianco –
without the council knowing, so they must have ignored his arrival intentionally.’