Chapter 230: Dandolo
Geoffrey almost wanted to whistle, but fortunately he still remembered what kind of person he was facing. Since they had been friends, even if not deeply, they still had some understanding of each other.
Dandolo was a peculiar man; in some aspects his demands were extremely strict, but in others, his stance could be quite lenient. This was also the greatest restriction on the rights of the Doge of Venice as a dictator of a republic; otherwise, Dandolo would have been quite suited to be a king.
Geoffrey had seen many high-and-mighty rulers who always set all sorts of laws for others to follow, but not necessarily themselves. Sometimes they could even violate doctrine and morality.
But Dandolo was someone who always managed to surprise him, for instance, after chatting idly with him for a while, Dandolo proposed going to St. Lazarus Cathedral.
“Is it to say a prayer?” Geoffrey asked casually.
That was normal enough; sea voyages in this era were not as safe as in later times. Everyone who could step off the deck should properly pray to God to thank Him for His protection.
But besides prayer, Dandolo also took out money and asked the Bishop of St. Lazarus Cathedral to hold a current Requiem Mass for Princess Anna of the Byzantine Empire. This time, even Geoffrey could not help but click his tongue in amazement.
Centuries later, readers flipping through the legends and stories created by people of this time would always feel puzzled as to why every story inevitably featured a wooden-headed husband and father, and an evil and vicious stepmother.
This was closely related to primogeniture.
According to law, in a family, even among children of the same mother, only the eldest son could inherit everything from his father: castle, territory, subjects, title, property—at least most of the property.
While his subsequent children could only receive some meager money and connections.
This practice certainly ensured the integrity of the territory. But likewise, it inevitably made the situation difficult for children other than the eldest son, just like the former Duke of Normandy, who because he continuously fathered over twenty sons with several wives, had all sons except the eldest son needing to make a living as mercenaries.
Therefore, as a stepmother, a woman had to treat harshly the children left by the previous wife—if her husband had not managed to declare the previous marriage invalid, and the previous children had all become illegitimate sons— even if she was good-natured by nature, for the sake of her own children, for her own family, she would try every means to eliminate these children who had become obstacles.
This also led their families to be hostile to each other, wary of one another.
After all, every marriage contract was closely followed by an alliance between two families. If no benefit could be gained from the marriage, what need was there to continue it? And the wife’s family would have wasted a good candidate for a marriage alliance in vain.
If you talk about daughters, a daughter’s dowry is likewise a major issue.
The dowry a daughter can have generally depends on her marriage prospect. Put it this way: if the daughter of a viscount who only has a small woodland suddenly gained the king’s favor, he would not fantasize about his daughter becoming queen, because he could not afford the dowry a queen should have. Even if the king insisted on marrying her, his ministers and other royal family members would certainly do everything to stop it.
If they could not stop it, this king might even be deposed, and such cases had happened even in this already extremely enlightened era.
And Princess Anna had another reason she should be hated by Dandolo: her father—Manuel I.
It was the Emperor who had expelled and killed over ten thousand Venetians, and who had tortured Dandolo, then the Venetian ambassador, and driven him out of Constantinople: Manuel I.
It could be said that Dandolo not dancing at her grave was already virtuous.
Now he was even repaying grievance with virtue, treating her like his own daughter…
“What is that expression on your face?” Dandolo glared at Geoffrey. This feeling was strange because Geoffrey felt Dandolo was looking at him, yet also not. People often say that when gazes meet, it is something intangible yet truly perceptible to each other.
But now, Geoffrey’s gaze cast toward him could not meet Dandolo’s, yet he could indeed feel a needle-like pain.
“It seems you came prepared.”
“When have I ever acted recklessly?” Dandolo asked in return.
If one had to say he had, it was that one time standing before Manuel I accusing him of breaking faith, and he had paid the price for it.
You say his view of Anna: not much, except that she was Manuel I’s daughter, and that brief marriage lasting only one night.
But she must have left an indelible mark on that young knight. Even a person as cold-natured as Narcissus would shed tears for such an exceedingly generous gift, let alone that the dead always have an edge over the living; her existence might even cast an indelible shadow on his granddaughter’s marriage…
He could not be sure if Boccia could let this past be buried six feet under with Anna, so not only did he add weight to this scale, but he also used emotion to sway Caesar—if he truly was an emotionally rich, grateful good child, Dandolo’s approach was undoubtedly quite effective.
When he arrived in Nicosia, still five miles from the city, Caesar led his knights to welcome them. At their meeting, this old fox even observed a hint of apology in Caesar’s eyes, which was exactly the result Dandolo wanted.
Dandolo had already seen miniature portraits painted of Caesar by others; this practice was not uncommon.
When two countries or two lords needed to arrange a marriage, except in some special cases, the couple would exchange portraits before the wedding. However, portraits at this time could not fully restore the posture of a living person because in the 12th century, painting still served religion—painters most commonly depicted portraits of God, the Virgin Mary, or saints.
And often, paying patrons would also ask to be painted beside the saints under their protection, as if thereby sharing some of their glory.
This led to modern viewers finding these portraits hard to distinguish the patron’s beauty or ugliness beyond obvious features; sometimes even gender and age could only be judged from clothing.
The painter Dandolo sent was supposed to finish in a month, but he dawdled and was urged by Dandolo several times—from words to actions—before finally reluctantly delivering a work.
He said that when he finished the painting, thinking it a rare work suitable to send to Dandolo, even after just a short rest or turning around, he would feel as if the devil had smeared it, instantly making it ugly and completely unlike the person in his memory.
Dandolo could see from the painting that the painter had indeed tried his utmost. He used the finest strokes to depict this young man, malachite powder for his eyes, vermilion for his lips, malachite for his fine hair. Yet when Dandolo summoned him, he still muttered that the painting was completely unlike that person.
Dandolo was already irritable from waiting so long, and upon hearing this, he righteously ordered him beaten.
Now it seemed to him that upon returning to Venice, he must give this painter some compensation; he had indeed been too hard on him.
At the same time, another worry rose in his heart. Although he had raised his little Boccia in the manner of raising boys, Boccia was ultimately a woman. Dandolo had never held the notion that women should stay dutiful, desireless, and unambitious.
In his view, women and men were no different, both having ambition for power and pursuit of beauty; it was just that the former were easily constrained by environment and law, the latter by morality and faith.
If Caesar were just an ordinary Crusader knight, Dandolo would be confident in resolving the matter for Boccia. But the problem was that Caesar would be Boccia’s legitimate husband; how normal for a wife to admire her husband.
Dandolo temporarily set this worry aside and turned to scrutinize Caesar’s knights. Sometimes looking at one person alone might reveal nothing, but looking at his friends, subordinates, or even lovers could reveal his true nature.
Because in front of these people, they were likely to drop their masks.
The first he saw was a group of knights with graying temples and weathered faces; they were not young, some even past their prime, beyond the most valuable age for knights.
And in the armies hired by Venetians or other armies Dandolo had seen, these men, unless friends or kin of the leader, would either be expelled or relegated to logistics as craftsmen or grooms for their remaining years.
If blessed by God, a knight’s career might continue a while longer. But ultimately, if not becoming a leader or a lord, the result was a monk in a monastery.
Yet here, they were like those young and strong knights, still full of expectations for the future and vibrant energy; they held their heads high, wore shining chainmail, new robes, and rode tall, sturdy horses.
The Blind Man’s gaze quickly swept over them; he could tell their physical condition was much better than those old fellows he had seen before, with hot blood flowing in strong muscles; they could still fight.
Perhaps in ten or twenty years, they would age and be unable to mount horses or wield sword, but now even well-trained Templar Knights would likely struggle to defeat them.
And behind these men were some young knights and escorts, holding flags, wearing robes marking their status. Most were young men from twenty to thirty; when gathered, they inevitably whispered and chattered, especially in such a setting, surely full of curiosity about these Venetians.
But now, what the Venetians saw was a silent and disciplined force. One young knight, unable to contain his curiosity, spurred his horse forward two steps to closely examine this famous Blind Man, only to see an old knight turn his head and give a stern glance; the young knight then quietly retreated.
Dandolo paid special attention to this young knight’s expression, to see if he would get angry at the rebuke, but no; he even looked around guiltily amid his companions’ expected mocking gazes, then straightened his posture as if nothing had happened.
That old knight also quickly turned back, expression indifferent, as if it were no big deal.
Could this young man be this old knight’s nephew? Dandolo thought, but he soon knew he was wrong. Because the young knight bore his family’s coat of arms, while the old knight bore another family’s. Meaning, there was no blood relation between them.
Rather, Caesar saw his doubt. “These are knights who once served my grandfather Joscelin II. Upon learning I had come to Cyprus, they came one after another to swear fealty to me, hoping to continue serving me as they served my grandfather.”
“I kept them, and now they teach the other knights—some I recruited, some came on their own, and some Baldwin assigned to me—of course with their consent.”
“So how many knights do you have now?”
“One hundred and three.”
In fact, this number was already considerable; the Knights Templar had only three hundred knights when Baldwin I took the throne—here referring to those on Ayyarasa Road. Over the subsequent decades, they expanded to six hundred; after the previous failed expedition against Mulai, they recruited new blood in Francia, so now perhaps eight hundred to nine hundred.
But Cyprus’s area was ten times that of Ayyarasa Road, and as an island, it could be attacked by enemies from any side.
This was also why Caesar had to cede part of the coast, ports, and cities; besides being a Crusader, it was because with his current strength alone, he could not hold all of Cyprus.
Thus, the dowry Dandolo brought for Boccia was not only expensive but also extremely timely.
After a simple welcome banquet—Dandolo and Caesar were not ones for elaborate formalities—Dandolo produced rolls of documents and contracts. So, compared to him, the Doge of Venice and his envoy could only be described as shortsighted and useless.
The envoy he sent had not even mentioned what kind of ships the Venetians promised to build for Cyprus…
Though this was not surprising, since Venetian law stipulated that, except for decrepit scrapped ships, Venetians could not sell any ships to foreigners, and the merchant ships or warships used by Venetians must be built by Venetians.
They always thought negotiations for Venice’s contribution size would come after the marriage and treaty were settled.
But as Geoffrey said, Dandolo was far more generous; he promised that the thirty ships in the dowry would come from his personal fleet, and the three galleys were a personal gift to the Lord of Cyprus, not counted in the dowry.
Meaning, even if the marriage failed, the three galleys already docked in Larnaca’s port, along with their sailors and soldiers, were now Caesar’s.
And those thirty dowry ships were not small sailboats like the “Criti”; a Criti sailboat has only one deck, shallow draft, unsuitable for warships, only for short-distance transport.
Dandolo provided twenty round ships that could carry large cargoes or horses, and ten longships for military use.
The round ships guaranteed a capacity of five hundred thousand pounds each; the longships measured one hundred twenty to one hundred fifty feet, powered mainly by five banks of oars, hence called five-oar ships.
“I know the Doge’s envoy offered you a golden ship at the previous banquet,” Dandolo said with a smile. “I have no gold here, only wood.”
He did indeed take several ships from the chest, of course not real ships, just models, for Caesar to see and as proof that the bride’s dowry would not be substituted with inferior goods or fakes.
Such wooden ships were undoubtedly more precious than a golden ship. Caesar picked up one and examined it; shipbuilding technology at this time had greatly advanced beyond Byzantine Empire craftsmanship—people no longer fixed ribs to the hull but built the keel first, then fixed the planks to the keel.
He could even open the deck, lift the forecastle and sterncastle, to see the internal structure.
Shipbuilding now no longer used mortise-and-tenon or wooden pegs, but iron nails, shown as tiny black dots on the model.
Dandolo explained to him that these ships were built using not copper nails but iron nails, which were undoubtedly much more expensive than copper, but the advantage was that copper nails required pre-drilled holes—like wooden pegs—while iron nails could directly fix planks to the keel, obviously far superior in strength and durability.
These were ships made with the latest technology, impossible to complete in just a few months.
“May I ask?” Caesar said. “When were these ships started?”
Dandolo glanced at him and replied with a half-smile, “Late 1171.”
