Introduction:
I have written professionally for almost a decade now, for magazines and newspapers, television, and websites, and perhaps you've even read something I wrote. If so, my apologies.
At last I have time to return to an unfinished book, a goofy sort of historical farce – a 'what if' of facts with an altogether different (and incredibly more far-fetched) interpretation. The story involves Niccolò da Conti, my pseudo-namesake, though a rather unfortunate incident with alcohol during my sign-up procedure lead to a misspelling . A very interesting fellow, da Conti was a trader of Venice in the early 15th century, and set out while still young to the Holy Lands, setting himself up in Damascus, then on to Baghdad, and much further. The accounts of his voyages (“Le Voyage aux Indes”) take him through Iran, India, Sumatra, Champa (NW Vietnam), and beyond. He was one of the few Europeans who ever saw the great Chinese fleet of Zheng He, while both were in an Indian coastal city.
My book has sat unfinished for almost a year, mostly due to work, somewhat due to a solid DLV addiction, and altogether due to a lack of time and effort. It seems even harder to re-start than it was to start.
I've finally found the time, and I thought this AAR might help me get back into this character (and the mindset of prose). Unlike most others, this AAR isn't focused on military exploits and the spoils of war, but the world of one trader named Tusco Dolfin. When his assets get acquired, it will end. But until then, we'll see how far he gets.
1180AD, Summer
My name is Tusco Dolfin. I am from the coastal town of Chioggia, a little south from the grand canals of Venice, though it isn't without its own Grand Canal. My father worked the nearby salt pans, my mother made lace, and together the three of us worshiped at the church of Santa Maria with Father Oliverio Grissani.
My father wished that I would join him in the salt pans, but my eyes were always drawn seaward to sails on the sunrise. As a boy I'd sometimes hear rumors of what luxuries the ships would bring to Venice, and the many stories of strange and distant lands. I knew at a very young age I was destined to visit them – and grow rich along the way.
I began my merchant career early, soon learning the languages of the Muslim traders that arrived in their dhows. I am now 30 years of age, and have acquired the wealth needed to set out on a journey of discovery, fame, and fortune. I will be sad to leave the great city of Venice, but I am excited to get underway.
Our Doge is Orio, a skilled politician and bureaucrat, defender of the great city. I have learned much from his rule, such as the boldness I'll need in my future bartering. Doge Orio has three sons, each of whom I expect to meet during my travels.
I've set off from the great city to the rebel Croatian town of Zagreb, for one last windfall of golden trades before venturing further into my unknown. The Doge has wisely initiated the construction of roads, but in these lean years even the trek to Zagreb is fraught with danger. When I leave the lands of Venice, it will be the furthest I've ever traveled from my beloved Chioggia.
I've left with news in the air of a new alliance with Milan. I hope it will remain strong and true, as I feel we must concentrate on defeating the many pirates and rebels that stalk our lands and waters. Perhaps, in time, they will feel obligated to pay heed to the Republic's banner.
Along the way I happened upon a fellow named Victor Carosi, also a native of Chioggia. Emboldened by wine and camaraderie, he told me a very intriguing story of his mission from the Doge to infiltrate Zagreb. “Perhaps for an invasion,” he pondered. Indeed, Zagreb would be a very rich addition to the Republic. I have arrived at the gold mines, where I expect a handsome return of 152 florins for the season. It will be very much needed in the seasons to come.
1180AD, Winter
This is harsh country for such a cold winter, and my experiences of it only seem to mirror that of the Republic's. I am told a great rebel army has arisen under the flag of Carlo, a young and capable general of considerable dread, though he is still somewhat of an unknown. It was Victor who brought me the news as I was packing to leave. He seemed rather skittish, as if it were unsafe to stay in the region. In any case, he told me he'd been summoned by the Doge to return to Venice, perhaps to spy on the rebels.
I set out from the Zagreb mines with the intention of wintering at an iron camp near Zara, but as I approached it soon became obvious the way was impassable. The snow kept coming, and with my supplies dwindling, I decided (rather dejectedly) to wait out the season in Zara castle, with no hope of income until the next year.
Zara is ruled by Consigliari Pietro, the Doge's eldest son and a superb administrator. He and his wife Magdalena, along with their two sons, greeted me warmly at the castle gates and invited me to share the reserved luxuries Zara has on offer. They are a loving family, though it seems Consigliari Pietro is at times frustrated by his position ruling a castle. I feel he would be happier in charge of a city, perhaps such as Zagreb. Several times over the course of the winter I found him alone with his wine, lamenting over lost opportunities, and yet there were 'Republic secrets' (as he called them) that would lighten his mood.
It was most pleasant, considering the rather spartan surroundings and the dreadful weather, but I am anxious to keep moving – and to refill my lean pockets.
1181AD, Summer
Spring finally arrived in Zara, and with great fondness I bid farewell to Consigliari Pietro and his happy family. It was only at the gates of Zara I realized the Consigliari's great Venetian talent; the charges levied for wintering in Zara were quite high, and heading south I was quite worried my fortunes would give way long before my journey's end.
Luckily, I was befriended by a wineyard owner just north of Ragusa, where I quickly set up a rather profitable trade in his wares. My accounts, however, were somewhat diminished by the quality of his wine; lest it be known, I have an affinity for sampling.
Ragusa is ruled by Duke Alessandro Mastropiero, second son of the Doge and a skilled bureaucrat. During my summer here, we spent many afternoons 'sampling' the local wines as we looked out across the rolling hills and discussed the affairs of the great Republic of Venice.
Unfortunately, the wine was necessary to wash away Duke Alessandro's concerns. The rebel general Carlo still roams free in Venice, and with no let up in sight, the Republic is slowly going broke. On the seas came news the Doge has raised taxes dramatically in Venice; “To crush Carlo,” the Duke stated assuredly, but I got the feeling there were 'state secrets' that went beyond a lone rebel general. Also came news of a grand alliance with the Holy Roman Empire, which we both agreed was a marriage of convenience, and while beneficial to all parties it was inevitable that the treaty would someday lay tattered.
1181AD, Winter
Roads! All the Republic is abuzz about the roads that will surely bring prosperity. I look back to the last year and wonder how much further I'd have been by now, but with the wealth I've accumulated from the Ragusa wineries, I'm confident my journey will go on.
The fleet of Admiral Paolo arrived from Venice just before the onset of winter, bringing with him news from home and all over the Republic. The kings of the far-off realms of England and France are dead, and my old friend Victor must've succeeded, as tales of cruelty and extermination had filtered from Carlo's camp into Venice. The first seeds of devastation and fear had been sown. Rumours sped through the great city of a night attack, but at the time of Admiral Paolo's departure, these were but rumours.
Happier news came from Ragusa itself – the birth of Giuliano to Duke Alessandro! All the castle rejoiced, and it was quite dear to see young Barbus make such a fuss over his new baby brother. The Duke and I celebrated our 'samples' vigorously for two months, until I began to feel the urge of a new horizon. I arranged for Admiral Paolo to transport me southward, and with glowing sentiments, the Duke and I said our farewells. I left the castle after a long night of 'sampling' with the Duke, when I felt assured he was unable to enable any of wintering levy scheme he may have learned from his brother.
These are dangerous waters. Pirates still roam freely, though most smartly have wintered off the coast of Bari. But the Admiral is skilled, and I have every confidence in his abilities to hasten my journey.
1182AD, Summer
I have been seasick for many months now; the waters have stirred so violently, but have finally let up and our fleet now approaches the Isle of Corfu.
(later that summer...)
Ah yes, success! The winemaster of Ragusa's information was correct, and by his word I was allowed to do business with a local lord of the wineries. This is an untamed rebel island, and though I sometimes fear for my safety, I am comforted by the Admiral's presence just offshore. While here, I've acquired a knowledge of customs, which makes dealing with these islanders a bit easier – and somewhat more profitable.
Ships to and from Venice pass nearby, through the narrow strait that connects the Adriatic and Ionian seas, and with them come shadowy bits of news from around the Republic – and an outside world. Something about the Third Council of the Lateran has met, though the sailors couldn't explain its objectives. My good friend and levy-extractor Consigliari Pietro and his wife have given birth to Leonardo at Zara! I'm sure the boys Gerardo and Benasuto will welcome their new brother.
Best of all, Carlo's forces have met ruin at the hand of the Doge's great army. As the story goes, the Doge stirred several hundred Venetians to rise up to defend the great city, and hiring several bands of mercenaries along the way, they vanquished the dreaded Carlo in a pitched battle that might have gone either way. With the grace of God, the Republic has prevailed!
There is much to celebrate, and staying the summer at a wineyard definitely helps. I have drank to the Third Lateran Council (whatever that is), the Consigliari's new son, the Doge's glorious victory... I even toasted the new grain exchange of Iraklion, which I hope to see soon. Admiral Paolo says we must depart soon, and I have my packed my things for the long voyage around the Pelopennese. We have stored much wine aboard for the journey.
Still... I must wonder... it was only a small band of rebels. Why would the Doge meet it with such a large force?
1182AD, Winter
We are still at sea, though this winter has been much kinder to the fleet. The waters are calm, with favorable currents, and we are making good time to Iraklion.
Still very much in the trade lanes, the faster ships that pass on their way from Venice have shouted news across our bows, and it seems to answer questions I had earlier this year. A great army is amassing at Zara, one that is most likely intended to siege Zagreb. I am pleased, not only for the Republic, but for Consigliari Pietro, who will likely lead the expeditionary force and will at last get to govern a proper city.
1183AD, Summer
Alas, it was not God's Will. Our dear Consigliari Pietro is dead, leaving behind poor Magdalena with three young boys. A career governor, he was not familiar with military custom, and as his horse reared to charge a mock practice enemy, his foot slid through the stirrup and the Consigliari was dragged most unceremoniously into the rugged hills near Zara, where he was found many days later, bloodied and almost unrecognizable.
The Doge is understandably distraught, though life goes on – including plans to take Zagreb, though I can't imagine who will now lead the charge.
We learned of the news just as we docked at Iraklion, where I first met the young Ordelafo Balbi. A merchant in good standing, he is good with money, quite willing to learn, and looks upon me as something of a mentor. “Take me with you,” he pleaded, and I didn't have the heart to say no. We will travel together to the Holy Land – and perhaps beyond.
Admiral Paolo has been ordered to return to Venetian waters, likely to support the Zagreb invasion, though news of this has been quiet. I have secured further transport from Lorenzo the Smuggler, a shadowy character but at the insistence of Lord Sebastiano he has promised his services to myself and the young Balbi.
Lorenzo brings with him a new discovery – magnesia. The Muslim traders we encounter use it in their prayers, pointing their way to their holiest city of Mecca. One one hand, this is somewhat unfortunate, as it was always quite humorous to hear them argue amongst themselves about Mecca's true direction; but on the other, this new discovery may give us an advantage in our future travels.
Iraklion is a very dull and boring place, and the last of the wine left with Admiral Paolo. Even the grain exchange wasn't worth the toast I gave it on the Isle of Corfu. They are just now clearing the land for agriculture, and one day I am sure Lord Sebastiano will make it a prosperous city, but for now there's little to do. I've left Balbi in town while I make trade at the nearby timber mills.
After all, the young Balbi might be my protégé, but he's also my competitor.
(I have a few more years of game to write, filled with death, inquisition, siege warfare, and more. Tusco Dolfin is still very much alive, and the story will continue. It seems to be good exercise.)
Oh, and Disclaimer: this is very much an unedited draft .