The Venetian Tales

The journal of Sir Jean de Vichy in Rapiers of the Renaissance

Year of our Lord 1477 24^th day of August – Blessed Sunday – Venice

There are many political reasons for distrust in the region as Rome is in dispute with Florence over the disposition of Imola involving a number of banking issues. King Louis of beloved France is displeased to learn of the Emperor Maximillian’s recent marriage to Mary of Burgundy. One of the reasons for my father requesting my own return. Sultan Mehmed II the leader of the Ottomans, dispatched an Ambassador to Venice in an attempt to open negotiations while the war still rages between the Ottoman Empire and Venice.

I hoped to complete my return home in time for the winter months but I should not be travelling on this holy day. However I needed to take the ferry to mainland Venice (Mestre). My armour and weaponry were stowed away upon my beloved destrier, Michel, and Pierre, my riding horse, was my mount of choice that day. As a respect to holy Sunday I was of course clad only in robes, cloak and travelling clothes, I was also armed only with a light mace so that even were I to be forced to fight I would not be forced to spill Christian blood on this holy day.

I assessed my fellow travellers as I awaited the ferry: one was a large brother knight of the obscure Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary, an order of lapsed monks which was clear from the fact he was both armed and armoured and, judging from the smell, he was clearly under the influence of the fruit of the grape, which was most unfitting.

Next in line was a tall well-dressed man with a cloak and hood that obscured his features. He bore a duelling sword and it was clear to me that he was not a soldier, yet his horse was of fine stock. I was able to ascertain that he was named Nicolo but little else.

Alongside Nicolo was a party of four: a young maiden of noble birth named Donna Maria Visconti Della Crema, her maid, Lucia, who appeared to be a maiden of noble birth come upon hard times, a knightly escort, Antonio Di Carrera, and an armed male servant, Vito Petrone.

The next fellow traveller to attract my attention was an Albanian Stadiot, a force earning much respect within the knightly orders for how they resisted the flow of the Ottomans. His horse, while small and shaggy, was likely to be of fine stock and he was named Luan Nexhat.

Beside Luan was Grigori Corvi who was of peasant stock, a Chamois hunter if I am not mistaken, another man armed with a bow mounted upon a shaggy pony.

The only other travellers of note waiting for the ferry appeared to an alchemist named Augusto and a priest who had clearly not sworn a vow of poverty judging by his fine clothes, Father Sylvio.

Suddenly the peace of the day was disturbed by a male voice crying out “do not touch that nun”, quickly followed by another similar cry. Pushing my way through the gathering crowd I arrived in time to see a number of ruffians fleeing the scene. Several of my fellow travellers also responded, we considered pursuit but it was quickly rejected.

The nun in question appeared unharmed and was in the process of getting to her feet. She was clearly Greek Orthodox. Common in Venice following the fall of Constantinople. The nun appeared demure and shy but was not afraid to vent her feelings for she called out something in Greek which I was unable to understand. I noted she had a noticeably strong accent.

The nun was guiding a mule which bore a carrying harness and upon this was a leather wrapped box akin to boxes used to carry sacred relics such as saint’s bones which are used to inspire the troops while on crusade and I suspect this item to be the target of the ruffians.

The evening of the 24^th was spent in the Lion of St Mark, a fine inn with good food. I was given my own room for the night, as was Donna Maria and her entourage, while the other travellers stayed within the common room. I took my regular prayers at 12 and 4am but still I feel I will be required to confess that I did not spend this holy day at rest.

Monday 25^th day of August

Joined caravan heading for Milan. There should be no trouble, the Venetians are keen to keep the roads in good condition and they are well protected from n’er-do-wells. The caravan contained all the people from the ferry plus a number of others namely…

Riding in two covered wagons were Enzio Bertoli and his young apprentice Tomasso and the bearded Heinrich Wolff, a red-headed Germanic, and his servant Rudi.

Next was Marcello Donnola, a Venetian merchant with no wagon but riding upon a horse and his bravo Angelo who was in control of two pack horses. The final member of the little group was Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola, a scholar who was on his way to Milan.

We made excellent time. As the weather was fine and sunny and as we were still under Venetian protection I chose to dress as I had the previous day and thus once again trusty Pierre was my mount of choice. We would likely have made better time but Sister Athena chose to walk, refusing all offers of a ride. She seemed overly protective of the ‘kibisis’ which she was taking to her priory in Gorgonzola, the centre of the Order of Saint Eno. This appears to be a small Orthodox order as no member of our group appeared to be aware of it.

To pass the time I tried to chat with Father Sylvio but found him a little too worldly and I sensed that his piety was not so pronounced and he would sooner be talking to my fellow knight, Vincenzo de Corte.

The man Nicolo appeared to be showing a lot of interest in Sister Athena which was not really proper but maybe this is how it is with the Venetians. Mind you, the conversation appeared to be mainly one way as the sister’s Italian was not good.

We had a modicum of excitement when Mistress Della Crema raced out but she did not seem to be in distress so I left the incident in the hands of Luan, De Corte and her escort, Antonio. She appeared to a hot head as later in the day I noted her discussing with De Corte the possibility of joining his order, which I do not believe would be a good thing as she lacks discipline.

The only delay is when we encounter two farmers driving their cattle down the road but this was only an hour or so. Hence we arrived in Padua in the early evening.

As we entered Padua Pico suddenly turned into a guide for the city, which he stated is the oldest in the region yet most of the architecture is only three hundred years old, due to a fire. He then informed us of the University, which is famously a home for both arts and sciences. The town hall is prominent as it has the largest unsupported roof in the world and it has recently been frescoed. Yet the jewel in Padua’s crown is the Chapel of the Virgin Mary, designed by Enrico Degli Scrovegni, and includes up to a dozen frescoes by Giotto which show the life of the Virgin Mary, including the Kiss of Judas.

The city has been under Venetian rule since the early days of the fifteenth century, which the populace appear happy about as they were previously under the Carreresi and constantly involved in conflict.

We stayed the night at Abbey of Saint Giustina, a Benedictine order so all accoutrements of war were to be handed in at the gate. The women were offered individual cells but everyone else was sectioned in the pilgrim’s dormitory. We were offered an evening meal of mutton stew heavy on the vegetables, it is average fare but warm. After which I requested absolution for my sins of travelling on blessed Sunday.

After dinner everyone joined the throng in the common room so I chose to accompany the group, though I did not partake of alcohol. Watching the group, I noted Father Sylvio appeared to be making advances upon Mistress Della Crema, and while her handmaiden did not seem overly concerned I felt Father Sylvio was giving the wrong impression for a man of the cloth. To defuse this Heinrich suggested that each person tell a story and started off with one from German folklore – The Giant and the Three Golden Hairs. A pleasant fairy tale and relatively harmless.

Then Luan regaled us with an Albanian tale of talking Eagles and Lions which he claimed explained the Albanian Eagle yet I was not enamoured by this tale for it had a faint scent of witchcraft.

After this tale we retired to the dormitory where again I followed my nightly ritual. However on this occasion, during my early morning prayers, I was to hear another praying in the next room. I could not make out the words but I was fairly sure it was not one of the monks.

Tuesday 26^th Day of August

The intention was to make the journey to Vicenza nineteen miles down the road and we set out after a hearty breakfast. We made good time as the road was straight and the sun continued to shine. Once again we would be travelling on Venetian roads so I chose to forgo my accoutrements of war.

We were however required to move off the road at one stage to allow an august presence to pass us by, who Pico identified as Cardinal Barbo, Bishop of Vicenza. His escort included a dozen servants, one bearing a large parasol to shade the blessed prelate, and two dozen horsemen.

The rest of the journey passed without incident and we arrived at Vicenza well before dusk. We came in from the southeast and it was clear the town lacked the grandeur of Padua yet it was still a pleasant town. We would be staying the night at the Turk’s Head in the Piazzi Dei Signori which turns out to be directly opposite to the Loggia Capitano, the residence of the Venetian Governor.

Mistress Della Crema was assigned her own room and Lucia was given a cot which would allow her to sleep at the foot of the lady’s bed while the armed servant Veto slept outside the door to discourage the likes of Father Sylvio. The rest of us would sleep in the dormitory.

The food in the Turk’s Head was of good quality and they had an extensive cheeseboard, including an excellent Gorgonzola. Once again I honoured my vows and stuck to Adam’s ale for I intended to keep a clear head.

During the evening I noticed Father Sylvio was once again making improper advances, this time to the innkeeper’s wife, a woman in her thirties married to a man at least twenty years her senior. I noted that he offered to take her confession and they retired to the linen closet but it was clear he had other intentions. Clearly the woman was cuckolding her husband, Pepe, who did not appear to notice – either that or he was aware and preferred to avoid the truth.

Luan also appeared to be aware but neither of us wished to embarrass the poor man. Luan however came up with a plan involving linen and we observed Pepe approach the door of the linen closet and prepare to knock only to stop and think twice, indicating he is aware of his wife’s discretions.

That evening it was Marcello who imparted his story, which was a classic tale of greed and avarice and once he finished he informed us that it is the Pardoner’s Tale by an Englishman named Chaucer.

Once again I followed my nightly ritual but as I returned after my four o’clock prayers, I observed Sister Athena praying in the common room, unlike me. I always try to ensure I am away from others so as not to disturb the sleep of others as many people do not wish to be woken. It was clear that while she does not pray at midnight she does observe early morning prayers.

Wednesday 27^th day of August

The intention was to travel from Vicenza to San Bonifacio, a distance of fifteen miles, four miles shorter than yesterday’s journey. However there was a little unrest over breakfast as Marcello was fuming in regard to being woken by Sister Athena’s morning prayers. Pico remarked that she did not wake him but Father Sylvio admits he too was awoken by her nocturnal devotion, maybe as a father he should be more pious.

Sister Athena argued rightly that she must pray and Father Sylvio as a man of the cloth should be aware of this, still he suggested she remove herself from others during her devotions so they will not be woken, like I do. Sister Athena agreed to this somewhat reluctantly and in rather poor grace.

Once we were well on our way I approached Father Sylvio and remarked as to his fragrant misuse of the holy confessional and how it is not there for him to exercise his own carnal desires. Yet I felt my comments fell upon stony ground, even though it endangers his eternal soul, for it is said it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a sinful man to enter into the kingdom of heaven. Later I observed Father Sylvio in close discussions with Monsieur Benvenuto, the physician in the group, following which he stood somewhat straighter, so maybe fate has chosen to punish him for his transgressions after all.

The weather was not as good as the previous few days but the road was still within Venice’s protection so remained well policed, as will be the case until we reach Milan. The road was quiet but we did pass by a small force of condottieri and their accompanying crossbowmen.

During the day I noticed that Nicolo’s hood slipped and I was able to see his face, which bears noble features despite the major disfigurement of a scar, which may indicate he has been a soldier at some time. Yet as he did not seem to be willing to discuss his past I did not press the issue.

I also noted Lady Visconti della Crema at one stage to be in a heated discussion with her retinue in regard to a piece of jewellery she had acquired. In my opinion, while it is acceptable for some young women to display spirit, this young lady will struggle to find a suitor until she changes her ways.

We made relatively good time and arrived at San Bonifacio well before dusk, the area was impoverished and the monastery was in a similar situation. The stew they served us was of poor quality and was lacking in meat but it was warm and that is all you can ask. Once again, as we were residing on holy ground, I left my accoutrements of war at the gate.

The story that night was one of the Greek myths involving the hero Perseus and the Medusa, told to us by the philosopher, Pico, who is an impressive storyteller.

As is usual the ladies were sequestered separately and I noted Lady Visconti Della Crema’s escort took a position blocking this area off from all others.

Early morning Thursday 28^th Day of August

The night passed without incident and I observed my prayers yet just after my return from my morning prayers I heard a cry from the courtyard. So I took up my robes and knife and headed for the courtyard post-haste, where I come upon a scene of madness, for Sister Athena lay upon the floor clutching her artefact while Luan stood over her with balled fists.

It was clear that Luan had lost all reason for not only had he struck a woman, he has also struck a nun on holy ground! Taking the scene in, I approached Luan with the intention of stopping his assault. Yet before I could actively take action, Luan came to his senses and yielded. As he surrendered I ordered him to stand aside while I requested one of the brothers go fetch the Abbot.

Luan still attempts to make a plea that I take Sister Athena’s box from her and open it as he appears to believe that what is in the box is unholy but I will have none of it and he will have to plead his case to the abbot.

As others arrived Sister Athena was helped away by members of Lady Visconti Della Crema’s party for Monsieur Benvenuto to check on her injuries, while Luan was escorted to a monk’s cell to await the Abbot. The triptych was also taken to this same cell. As the Abbot arrived he took over the investigation and once again Luan requested the box be opened.

I noted that the Abbot initially appeared to be willing to bend to his wishes but had a surprising change of heart when he placed his hand upon the top of the triptych as he suddenly snatched his hand back, much akin to having been stung or burned by the mere contact, after which he seemed reluctant to open the triptych.

Luan then pressed on asking if the Abbot would allow him to open the box and that the Abbot hear his confession and bless him before he did so. The Abbot considered this and finally agreed. He then took Luan and the triptych to a separate cell.

They were gone for about an hour in all but requested at one stage if Sister Athena carried a key but it appeared she did not. When they returned it appears the Abbot was not enamoured by what was inside the box as he indicated that he wished to send a message to the priory at Gorgonzola, a four-day journey there and back. However he was unwilling to reveal what was actually in the triptych.

Luan would carry the note but for safety reasons he requested an escort so I put myself forward for this role as hopefully a knight Hospitaller and a turcopole should be enough to discourage any bandits along the way, which was to prove the case for by that evening we were in Brescia and before the sun had set on Friday 29^th August we had delivered the message to Gorgonzola.

The return journey with the message for the Abbot was also without incident yet I was required to once again gain absolution for toiling upon holy Sunday.