The sun rose above the hills behind them, burning off the morning mist and warming the chill air as they rode the short distance to the docks. Sofia smiled and laughed, asking the names of buildings and plazas. She seemed more alive than she had the night before, totally at ease in the saddle. Her buoyant spirits lifted Longo's mood, and soon he too was smiling, the knots in his stomach loosening. By the time they reached the docks and loaded all of the baggage aboard la Fortuna, the chilly dawn had transformed into a glorious winter morning. Longo gave the order to make way and left one of his men at the wheel, while he went forward to stand at the rail with Sofia, Julia and Leontarsis. They glided across the bay of Genoa under a favourable wind, the ship cutting confidently through the short, choppy waves.
'The trip should be a quick one with this following wind,' Longo told them. 'We will sail down the Genoese coast, past the Arno river in Florence, and should reach Corsica well before nightfall. We will stay at my family home in Bastia and then sail on to Ostia the next day. You should be in Rome by tomorrow afternoon.'
'I have never heard of Bastia,' Sofia said. 'What is it like?'
'It is a small town, built on the steep, rocky coast of Corsica. The island itself is under the control of a group of Genoese traders called the Maona, and each of the great Genoese families has representatives amongst them. Corsica has been Genoese for almost two hundred years, although you would never know it. The people are still as desperate for independence as ever.'
'My father says that the Corsicans are like animals,' Julia said. 'They must be domesticated to be of any use.' Her face was beginning to take on a greenish cast.
'He would no doubt speak differently if it were his country that were occupied,' Sofia replied. 'I admire these Corsicans. It requires great bravery to fight a battle that nobody believes can be won.'
'Or great foolishness,' Leontarsis mused. 'Sometimes I fear that we are all of us only playing the fool on this mission.'
'On the contrary, Leontarsis,' Longo said. 'A fool fights when he has no chance. A brave man fights when he has no choice. No, the only fools are those who do not come to your aid. As for the Corsicans, only time will tell whether they are fools or not. I for one cannot blame them for wishing to be free.'
'I did not mean to cause offence,' Julia said, blushing. 'I know little of these matters and… If you'll excuse me, My Lord…' Julia bowed and, covering her mouth with one hand, made a quick retreat from the rail. Her maid joined her as she hurried below to her cabin.
'I will take my leave as well,' Leontarsis said. 'The air on deck does not appear to agree with me.' He turned and followed Julia below.
Sofia shook her head. 'Seasickness must be terrible,' she said. 'I love the ocean, the feeling of freedom that comes from slicing through the waves, the wind in my hair.'
'You are a sailor, then?' Longo asked.
'Hardly,' Sofia said, laughing as the prow of la Fortuna struck a wave head on, spraying both of them with water. 'I had been on ships within the Golden Horn, but my trip to Venice was my first true encounter with the sea. I love it. How lucky you are to have a ship of your own, the freedom to go wherever you wish.'
'I am not so free,' Longo replied. They stood quietly for some time, enjoying the sunshine and the unending rush of the sea under the prow. Longo had canvas chairs rigged for them on the foredeck, and they sat, watching the coast of Italy roll by. The mountainous Republic of Genoa was ending now, the high hills tapering into the gentler landscape of the central Italian states of Modena and Florence. Other ships began to appear on the horizon. Longo pointed to an inlet on the coast.
'The mouth of the river Arno,' he told Sofia. 'There is a port there that serves Pisa and Florence.'
Sofia nodded. 'I have heard of it,' she murmured. Then, turning to look Longo in the eyes, she asked: 'If you were free to do as you wished, then what would you do?'
Longo paused. What would life even mean without duty to guide him? 'I do not suppose that I would do very much differently,' he said at last.
'And her?' Sofia asked, nodding towards the cabin.
'What? You do not think that she is a good match?'
'She is beautiful, like a delicate flower, but she is so young.'
'She is the daughter of one of the most powerful families in Genoa, and beautiful as you say,' Longo replied. 'She is all that could be asked for in a wife.' He paused, considering. 'But what of you? What would you do if you were free?'
'I would fight to defend Constantinople,' Sofia replied without hesitation. 'And I would travel. I have seen so little of the world, and books can only teach so much.'
'Fighting and travelling are not as glorious as they sound,' Longo said. 'One grows tired of both.'
'Are you tired of fighting, Signor Giustiniani?'
'You may call me Longo, Princess. And yes, I am weary of war. I used to desire nothing more than battle against the Turks, but lately…'
Sofia nodded, but did not speak. Longo wondered if she understood him. He felt, somehow, that she did. They sat in silence until the distant smudge that would become Corsica appeared on the horizon. 'We will be landing soon,' Longo told her as he rose from his chair. 'I must make preparations. Until tonight, Princess.' Longo had Sofia and Julia escorted to their rooms in his family's villa, high in the hills above Bastia, while he spent the rest of the afternoon at the docks, busy reviewing accounts with the factor who oversaw his fishing and shipping interests on the island. It was dark when he finally arrived at the villa. He had ordered a lavish meal for his guests, but when he arrived, Longo found that only Sofia had come to take part in the feast. 'Ambassador Leontarsis and Lady Julia beg your pardon,' the house steward told him. 'They requested that you be informed that neither of them is hungry, and that they will see you tomorrow.'
'I see,' Longo said and sat at the table across from Sofia. 'Julian, see to it that Leontarsis and Julia are taken soup and bread, and have someone find a physician to provide something to calm their stomachs.'
'Very thoughtful of you,' Sofia said.
Longo smiled. 'I was thinking more of my own welfare than theirs. I would prefer that Leontarsis have his wits about him when he reaches Rome. And Julia is to be my wife; I know enough of women to know that the more she suffers now, the more I will suffer in the future.'
'Indeed,' Sofia replied, smiling back. They both busied themselves eating, and the conversation lulled. They moved through the courses — sauteed skate, roast pheasant stuffed with goat's cheese and achingly sweet Corsican oranges — while the candles burned low. Longo watched Sofia between bites. She was beautiful, but not like Julia. Sofia was no fragile flower; she was more like a finely crafted sword. But she was a bit dull at present, subdued and distracted.
'Is the food to your liking?' Longo asked.
'It is delicious.'
'I ask only because you seem troubled, Princess. Perhaps you are worried about your reception in Rome?'
Longo caught her eyes, and to his surprise, she blushed. 'Yes, that is it,' she agreed. 'The pope's support is vital.'
Longo nodded as he studied her, trying to read her face. When she caught him staring, this time he blushed. He was acting like a fool, Longo thought. Still, he could not take his eyes off her.