Amongst Silk and Spice Read Free Page A

smiled.
    "I will not fail you." Hugo realised it was a wonderful opportunity to serve the king in a capacity that could garner him respect and patronage. This was a personal favour to the king and he had been asked to conduct it.
    "Now Killner there will see you have enough provisions for your voyage."
    Hugo was dismissed and he sought out the man the king had indicated, receiving a heavy purse and a letter of support to show as required. The letter would carry great weight, even amongst the Venetians. With this mission and the letter, he was acting on behalf of the king, and few would dare stand in his way.

Chapter 3:
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    Hugo could hear the church bells ringing as he sailed into Venice. It was early and the fishermen were sailing the other way, out to sea to find their catch. The city stretched out before him, seemingly built right out of the water and he'd never seen anything like it.
    By the time they reached port, the city was awake. The port was busy and every manner of goods were dragged out of ships or put in. There was silk and spice, carpets from the East, gold and slaves. This was where the world traded. Everything flowed down the canals on little, squat boats. Hugo hadn't thought it possible that so many people could live in one place and Bertholomew had already managed to upset one of them, who was yelling at him with wild hand gestures. Walking down the narrow streets, Hugo saw Latins, Spaniards, Jews and even Saracens with their flowing robes and wrapped heads.
    Shops were opened along the streets. Most of the wooden buildings were two story and whores seemed to ply their trade from the balconies above. Children ran through the streets like wild things, while slaves tended lush gardens. There were also stone or plastered buildings, built more pleasingly than the function required. Elaborate embellishment spoke of the wealth to this city.
    It took Hugo some time to find Saint Mark's Square where he'd been told the king's envoy lived. The square was filled with sellers of all manner of things and the Basilica told Hugo he had reached the right place. It wasn't hard to find a trader who spoke French, and who could point him to the envoy’s lodging.
    Bertholomew went to seek out their own lodging at one of the hostelries, aware that there was one particularly serving the English. The last thing they needed was some Frenchman promoting the French cause by slashing their throats at night.
    Making enquiries, Hugo soon found the right door, where an elderly slave of seemingly Eastern origin gave him entrance.
    "Who enquires?" a man yelled from another room. A rustle was heard, then the envoy appeared, stopping as he saw Hugo. He had long, graying hair and his body was running to fat. "We have a visitor. And a knight, too. What brings you to Venice, my lord?"
    "King's business."
    "Come through," the man said hurriedly, urging him to continue through the building, emerging out into a courtyard surrounded by a small garden. "Sit.  I am Victor Stagly—at your service, Sir—?"
    “Beauford,” Hugo stated, taking a seat in a wooden chair with carved sides. The sun was warming and the elderly slave brought wine and cheese.
    "Have you been to Venice before?" the envoy asked.
    "No."
    "It is quite a place. At the same time the godliest and the most ungodly of cities. There is not a sin this city does not cater to. You saw the Doge's Palace."
    "I saw construction."
    "Yes, they have been rebuilding it for many years—making it grander. The old Byzantine architecture is no longer appreciated and the Church wants the palace to reflect the wealth of Venice. The people hate it, of course. They resent the Doge's presence." The envoy took a sip of his wine and let the cup rest on his knee. "Although you have come on an interesting day. There will be horse racing through the city."
    "I am not here for the pleasures," Hugo said, looking around the courtyard. The envoy had nice lodgings here, looking settled enough to stay, and