Mutiny

_{Griffith broke off his discussion with Amati and came across. 'You see there,' he said, pointing at a golden ball displayed prominently at the tip of the approaching promontory, 'the Saluday, the customs house of Venice. We shall be boarded, but Mr Amati says there'll be no difficulties. They're much more concerned to levy their taxes, and foreign seamen are not of interest to them.'}

_{He gave a small smile. 'I will be a factor from Dalmatia, Mr Renzi will be my clerk.' Griffith wore the plain black last seen on Bacchante's surgeon. 'We may disembark and take passage to our lodgings without interference.'}

_{True to anticipation, the revenue officials ignored them in favour of a lively interchange with the captain, leaving them to hail and board one of the flat work-boats sculling about.}

_{They clambered into the forward well and settled. 'Dorsoduro,' Renzi said briefly, eyes on the colourful, bustling shore ahead. 'And this, my friend, is the Grand Canal.'}

_{It was impossible not to be moved by the unique atmosphere of Venice — a true city of the water. Every building seemed to grow straight up from its watery origins with not an inch of wasted space. Instead of roads there were countless canals along which the commerce of the city progressed in watercraft of every kind in a ceaseless flow on the jade-green waters.}

_{They passed deeper into the Grand Canal, seeing the mansions of the rich, each with a cluster of gaily coloured poles outside, an occasional market, throngs of people going about their business.}

_{A bend straightened, and into view came a bridge, a marvellous marble edifice complete with galleried buildings all along its length. 'The Rialto,' said Renzi. 'You will, of course, now be recalling Shakespeare and his Merchant of Venice’}

_{The work-boat glided up to a landing platform short of the bridge, and they stepped out into the city-state of Venice. ‘La Repubblica Serenissima,' breathed Renzi. They were on the left bank with its fish-markets, pedlars in sashes and pointed shoes, peasant women in brighdy coloured skirts with pails of water on yokes, shopkeepers yawning as they arranged their cheeses, porters trundling kegs of salted sardines, all adding to the tumult with their florid Venetian dialect.}

_{Amati wasted no time. 'Follow!' he demanded, and plunged into the crowd. They fell in behind, their rapid pace taking them into a maze of alleyways between many-coloured buildings until they came on a dark and heady-smelling tavern. In the rank gloom was a scattering of foreigners, hard-looking Armenians, Jews, unidentifiable eastern races. The chatter died and faces turned towards them as they slid on to benches at a corner table.}

_{'Da mi quattro Malvasie’ Amati snapped to a waiter. 'Sir, you stays here - please,' he told Griffith in a whisper.}

_{'Where are you going?' Griffith asked suspiciously.}

_{'The consul, Signor Dandolo, he will come soon. I — I must go to my family, they expec' me.' His eyes flicked about nervously as he spoke.}

_{Kydd glanced across at the heavy Swede, whose set face gave away nothing. Renzi looked subdued. 'He don't want to be seen wi' us,' Kydd murmured, only too aware that they were unarmed. Griffith looked troubled.}

_{'We are enjoying a visit to a furatole’ Renzi said, with a wry smile, 'a species of chop-house, this one frequented by despised foreigners. Eminently suitable as a rendezvous, I would have thought.'}

_{Four earthenware pots of coarse wine arrived, a litde later fish soup. The sailors tucked in, but the penetrating strength of the anchovy stock dismayed them. Only Renzi finished his bowl, with every evidence of satisfaction. Hard bread was all that was on offer afterwards.}

_{Short and stout, but with dark, intelligent eyes and a quick manner, Dandolo arrived. He was dressed in flamboyant reds and greens, and he quickly got down to business. 'Signor L'ith ha' still not arrive. You must stay how long, one, two week? Then I mus' find some lodging.' His eyes narrowed. 'You have money?'}

_{Griffith brought a small purse into view and placed it on the table. It clinked heavily. 'Guineas,' he said, but kept his hand over it.}

_{Dandolo kept it fixed with his keen eyes. 'This Buonaparte is too lucky, he win too fast. All Friuli is in danger of him. There are some 'oo say Venice is too old to keep 'er empire, others, it frighten trade, threaten th' old ways. The Doge is weak and fear the Council of Ten — but now I must fin' you somewheres.'}

_{Pausing only for a moment, he turned to Griffith. 'Sir, you will come wi' me to the Palazzo Grimani. The marinaio, they go to San Polo side—'}

_{' Una camera vicino alia Calle della Donzella, forse?’ Renzi interrupted, with a twisted smile.}

_{'Si.' Dandolo looked sharply at him. 'With the foreign sailor. You know this place?'}

_{'Yes.' There were amazed looks from the other Englishmen, the sort of admiration reserved for those who had learned something of a foreign language.}

_{'Y'r Grand Tour - ye must have had a whale of a time!' Kydd chuckled.}

_{Renzi grinned shamefacedly. 'We stayed at the Leon Banco, on San Marco side. It was considered a dare to spend a night with ... on San Polo side . . .'}

_{Griffith had been as strict as the circumstances allowed. Renzi, as master's mate, was placed in charge, and they occupied the top floor of a doss-house for merchant seamen, a single dark room with rag palliasses and a scatter of chairs and tables.}

_{Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Kydd crossed to one of the mattresses, threw aside the cover and brought down his fist in the centre. He inspected the result: several black dots that moved. He wouldn't be sleeping there that night. Renzi's face was a picture of disgust. Below in the tavern a rowdy dice game was already in progress, a swirl of careless noise that would make sleep impossible.}

_{'So . . .' began Kydd. Larsson kicked aside some palliasses to make a clear area, then dragged up a table and three chairs.}

_{They looked at each other. 'Sir Alastair might come at any time.' Renzi's words were not convincing, and Kydd detected a wariness.}

_{'Aye, but must we stay in - this?' he asked.}

_{All eyes turned back to Renzi. He cleared his throat, and folded his arms. 'The French are near.'}

_{Kydd sat back: Renzi was now going to make things clear.}

_{'Venice is a very old, proud and independent republic, and she has no quarrel with revolutionary France. In the legal sense, therefore, we have as Englishmen a perfect right to be here, no need for disguise, dissembling.' He pondered for an instant. 'However, it would make sense not to embarrass the authorities if they must deny knowledge of the presence of English citizens to the French. I rather think our best course would be to lie low and see what happens. We must make the best of our circumstances, therefore.'}

_{'We stay.'}

_{'We must.' There was a heavy silence.}

_{'Why is th' agent, Amati, s' skittish, then?'}

_{'Here we have an ancient and well-worn rule of government that is unique to this place. There are no kings, rather they elect one who should rule over them - the Doge. The first one over a thousand years ago, in fact. And there are nobles, those whose names are inscribed in the Golden Book of the Republic, and honoured above all.' He paused. 'But the real power lies at the palace in the hands of the Council of Ten, who have supreme authority over life and death. They rule in secrecy - any who is denounced risks a miserable end in the Doge's prison. This, perhaps, is the source of his terror.' Renzi continued: 'But on the other hand, even while we are here in durance vile, there are at this moment — and not so very far from here — rich and idle ladies who think nothing of waking at noon, supping chocolate and playing with their lapdogs.' He smiled at his shipmates' varied expressions and went on, 'Should you desire — and have the fee — you may choose from a catalogue your courtesan for her skills and price.'}