I’d seen these ships at anchor on the lagoon, but never dreamed I’d set foot on one. We were, Al-Qasim told us, travelling in the most luxurious ship afloat, thanks to the machinations of Luis and the influence of Pietro. Our voyage to Constantinople would be both smooth and swift. ‘It had better be,’ Willem muttered, and went below to the cabin he shared with Al-Qasim and three other men. Valentina and I were given the captain’s cabin, an unprecedented honour for which the dear man was awarded the most dazzling of Valentina’s smiles at every opportunity, lest he change his mind. When we met on deck late the next morning, Venice had vanished beyond a misty horizon. The oarsmen were at rest now we were well out to sea and under sail, and some of them sat in small groups nearby, playing at dice and talking quietly. Valentina spent a few moments staring at the empty ocean, then turned away. ‘It won’t be for long,’ I said. ‘I still can’t believe it.’ ‘I know.’ ‘I have a better plan,’ she said.
