Chapter 1.3

Chapter 4

Serene Republic of Venice- 1538

He jumped out of bed when it was still dawn. The boy had dreamed all night and he was surprised that he could sleep at all with the state of excitement that had invaded him since three days before when his parents had finally consented to allow him to accompany Uncle Andrea, his mother's brother, on the voyage he had prepared to Far East and to which he had invited him three months ago. The expedition sailed that afternoon aboard a freighter owned by the Dandolo family and the boy had already prepared his luggage, struggling with his mother who tried to load him with all kinds of things.

At sixteen Cosimo Badoer was preparing for the adventure of his life.

Tiziana Bembo was exhausted. She had helped his son to prepare his luggage for his trip and did not share the boy's enthusiasm. She remembered too well the stories in her family related to trips to the Far East, the two cousins who had never returned and the shock of his mother when his father and brother left with that destination. She knew of the dangers due to the pirates infesting the eastern Mediterranean Sea, the fanatical Islamists of the Near East and the savage tribes beyond Persia. At best Tiziana also knew that she would not see her first-born son in the next five years. Her thoughts were filled with sadness and she was trying to keep herself occupied only to keep them away. She sent a servant to look for Cosimo immediately. When the boy appeared at the door he asked.

"Mother, did you call me?"

Tiziana sighed, there was no doubt that the young man did not think of her at all and his head was only occupied by the impending journey. The woman resigned herself. As the eldest son, Cosimo was destined to perpetuate the role of the family in the international trade of the Republic of Venice, activity that for centuries had been the explanation of the wealth the city and their lineage.

"Yes, come in, I must heal the wound in your back."

The young man had fallen from a horse ten days before and had been injured in the back suffering a wound that had required stitches.

Cosimo took off his shirt exposing his white skin; in it the mother could still see the ugly wound not yet completely healed.

"You must ask Uncle Andrea to have some of his men take care of this wound until it heals completely. Do you promise me to do it?”

"Yes, Mother.”

Once the disgusting ointment with an unpleasant odor was applied, Tiziana covered the injury again. Only then hers eyes fell on the dark spot the boy had on his shoulder, more precisely in the area near the base of his neck. It was a symmetrical rhomboid-shaped diamond-like mark that Cosimo had inherited from her, which in turn had inherited it from her father, and so on in a sequence of which Tiziana only knew the three or four most recent generations. With an impulse she kissed the young man's skin.

The ship swayed gently in the calm waters of the Adriatic Sea as the captain watched nervously the sails now deflated by the sudden calm of the wind. Standing on the prow, Cosimo gazed at the slowly moving Venetian coast and with it his home, his city, and his entire known universe. Also behind was left Beatrice, the blonde beauty who had captured his soul in the last Carnival. In the depths of these sad thoughts, however, shone the expectation created by the adventure that opened before him, still reserved in Venice to a few young men from wealthy families. The boy felt a hand resting on his shoulder, and as he turned he saw the tranquilizing figure of his uncle Andrea, a male figure even closer and stronger than his father´s, always absent in his missions on behalf of the council of overseas merchants, the oligarchy that guided the decisions of the Dux and therefore ruled the Republic Serenissima. Andrea did not utter a word and did not look at his nephew but gazed forward, toward the waters that were opening around the bow, in an attitude that revealed his anxious and fiery personality.

The farewell of the ship at the docks of the city had brought together all the Venetian elite, including the first-born of the Dux. The ship left with the best auspices of the dominant naval power at the time.

Returning to the hotel after the walk through the central part of the provincial capital Ivo placed a hand over Lian's shoulder and waited for her reactions. The woman did not protest but she looked to both sides as if somewhat ashamed of what the few passers-by might think. The young man proceeded to withdraw his hand after the failed attempt and the conversation between them ceased from that moment. After entering the hotel and going to their rooms, located on the same floor and separated only by the corridor, Ivo coldly greeted the woman and started to open his door. At that moment Lian touched his arm causing him to turn so they were both watching each other. The girl lifted her face offering her lips and Ivo had to bow his to put their mouths on the same level. Their lips joined and Lian opened the door of her room, dragging the young man behind her.