In The Lion's Sign. Stefano Vignaroli

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much darker, wrapping things and people in the black cloak of the night. The silhouette of a huge boat, a three-masted sheep, caught Andrea’s attention. In his life he had never seen such a large vessel. And the fear that the next day he would have to climb on it gripped his heart. On the highest tree, the central one, waved the banner of the Serenissima Republic, a laying lion, the lion of St. Mark, with an open book, the Holy Gospel, between the front legs. When the drawbridge was descended and the huge doors of the portal opened, the captain of the castle guard went out and approached Andrea, handing him a folded banner. He bent to his address in an obsequious bow and handed him the banner.

      Andrea got down from his horse, nodded to the Captain to lift himself from the reverent position and took the object from his hands. He unfolded the drape, in which, on a red cloth background, had been made, at the end of the embroidery, the golden design of a rampant lion adorned with the royal crown on his head.

      «My Lord, Marquis Franciolino Franciolini, you’ll fight under the sign of the lion!», the lieutenant began to profess. «Tomorrow morning you will deliver this banner to the ship’s crew, who will hoist it on the flagpole, beside the flag of the Serenissima Republic. The Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere gave precise dispositions. The rampant lion, the symbol of your city, but also of Frederick II of Swabia, who granted in his time to adorn it with the imperial crown, will be the symbol of your strength and your authority.»

      The Scroll was interrupted and he had a parchment delivered by another soldier, who had remained behind him, a short distance away.

      «Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere appoints you, as written in this parchment, Grand Lion of the Bailiff, a title that gives you great powers and the possibility, indeed the duty, to accompany the Venetian commander on the bridge of the combat galleon.»

      So saying, he rolled the parchment and delivered it in Andrea’s hands.

      «Tomorrow morning at dawn you will board with your men and deliver the credentials to the “Capitano da Mar”3 Tommaso de’ Foscari. Two lions and two captains of arms will be united against common enemies, on one side the Turks of Sultan Sèlim, on the other side the Lansquenets. The Duke Della Rovere trusts you will hold high the honour due to your flag and to the one of the Serenissima Republic, our ally. And now, my Lord, allow me to lead you to your rooms to call for a deserved rest. Tomorrow morning you will be awakened early, even before sunrise.»

      Andrea was confused, he didn’t know what to say, and so he remained silent. Certainly his friend Duke knew how to flatter him with the honours, but in doing so he always found a way to send him to the wreck. The fact of embarking on a ship didn’t please him at all, but by then he had arrived there and he couldn’t back down.

      At night he turned and turned around between the sheets, getting little or no sleep. When he sank into sleep, he was assailed by nightmares that reminded him of the only battle fought at sea. Sea and blood, fire and death. And the figure of the Mancino who tormented him, approaching him until he became a giant, who accused him of letting him die among the waves. And he woke up in a bath of sweat, realizing he had slept only for a few moments. When the servant in charge of the alarm clock arrived, he felt almost relieved to be able to get up. It was still dark outside, but from the window he could catch a glimpse of the ship illuminated by the whitish light of an almost full moon. The servant helped him to wear a light armour, consisting of a wire mesh bodice with more compact reinforcements at the shoulders, forearms and neck. Above the armour, a half red and half yellow satin cloak. In the yellow part the design of the lion of San Marco, in the red one the crowned rampant lion.

      «These clothes won’t be able to protect me from anything!», Andrea began to complain, with the servant who was helping him in the dressing. «An arrow in chest and goodbye Marquis Franciolini! And what about the stockings? Simple leather pants, without even metal studs for protection. Pass me the helmet, come on!»

      «No helmet, my Captain. You’re all good. On board you have to be light, you have to be able to move easily, to run from one side of the galleon to the other and, if necessary, climb trees. An armour like the ones you are used to wearing in land fighting would only be a hindrance. Trust me, my Lord!»

      «I trust you, and I also believe that I will not reach Mantua alive. If seasickness won’t kill me, the enemy will do it. I will be an easy target for the Turkish pirates. They will shoot me with arrows and feed on my corpse. Ah, what a fine destiny I’m going to meet, just to please my friend the Duke!»

      «You have nothing to fear, my Lord. The galleon is really safe and suitable for resisting any attack by other vessels. And Commander Foscari knows his business. He knows how to govern the vessel and fight at sea like no other in the world. You will see. And now, refresh yourselves. You will need to be strong to face the journey», and so he clapped his hands, letting other servants with trays coming into the room.

      The servant who had helped him dress, took a silver chalice and had his hands washed with rosewater. Then he invited him to sit at the table. The other servants placed in front of him, in sequence, three trays. In the first one there were some cups, some filled with donkey milk, some with Sicilian orange juice, others with steaming cow’s milk. A second tray contained sweet food, milk bread, donuts, cookies, marzipan, pinocchiate4 , cannoli5 with cream, puffed, arranged in saucers decorated with large salad leaves. The third tray was dedicated to salty foods, anchovies, capers, asparagus, shrimps, accompanied by a cup filled with sturgeon eggs with sugar. Apart, in some jugs, there were wines, from muscatel to trebbiano to fermented sweet wine. Andrea was afraid that, once aboard the galleon, everything in his stomach would go up to his jaws. He would have vomited everything he had ingested. But the scents that tickled his nostrils were too tempting, so he soaked some cookies and two donuts in donkey milk, gobbling behind the cup of warm cow’s milk. He was careful not to touch the salty foods and, above all, the wines. Satisfied, he let out a loud burp, after which he declared himself ready to reach the Venetian boat.

      Seen up close, the Venetian ship was really impressive. Andrea had never seen such a large vessel, not even that of the Turkish pirates faced more than a year ago. He noticed with pleasure how the galleon was extremely stable. The waves passed under the hull, but the mammoth ship, in fact, just did not seem to move. His attentive eye did not miss the curious metal panels, which covered the wooden sides of the boat in several places. While trying to understand what they were for, his attention was drawn by the ship’s captain. Tommaso De’ Foscari was hurling himself out of his arms, beckoning the young man to go on board through a comfortable walkway placed between the pier and the left side of the ship. Not without some fear, Andrea reached the bridge, greeting his new companion with a bow. While he was handing the banner to Foscari with the rampant lion, to be hoisted on the flagpole near the other flag representing the lion of St. Marco, he realized that being on top of that ship did not bother him at all. The galleon was a different thing than the one on which he had lost two of his best companions, the Mancino and Fiorano Santoni. The movements due to the lapping of the waters under the hull were not felt at all.

      «As you can see, my dear Franciolino, this is one of the best ships in the fleet of the Serenissima Republic», the ship Captain began to explain to him, surrounding his shoulder with an arm. «It’s a very large ship and therefore it is very stable. But at the same time it’s also agile and easy to manoeuvre. In addition to the wind it can be propelled, if necessary, by two orders of rowers. Among the crew, servants, rowers and soldiers, there are more than five hundred men on board. Almost an army. And that’s not all. It’s a very safe ship. I noticed, a little while ago, how you were looking at the metal bulkheads on the sides. They protect the hull from the enemy’s incendiary balls. When needed, they can be lifted, creating a barrier even higher than the walls of the ship itself, and between one bulkhead and another, fire vents can be inserted, bombards capable of throwing explosive projectiles at opponents. But there is even more. On board we have as many as one hundred harquebusiers, men capable of using in an excellent way the new deadly firearm

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