Chapter 185: Ask the Oak

The Marinai had submitted their complaint, and the Doge had begun reading it.

Until he finished, the yard could lay no keel or strike a single plank, and the Avogadori would also review the old entry that had struck Nestor’s name from the Arsenal’s rolls.

The carpenters lowered their mallets one by one, like soldiers surrendering without being told who had won. At the millpond, the sawyer looked at Nestor, saw that his hands were still behind his back, and shut the sluice.

Menega, the tide-fed saw frame Nane had named and everyone had cursed ever since, groaned to a halt halfway through a plank.

Under a lamp burning at noon, the Arsenal’s old rule lay open on the Doge’s table. Premarino stood before it, his sea-leather boots planted firmly.

"Messer Doge! We are the ones who row. Every hull this Republic ever put in the water, we pulled her. Every one, Messer Doge! Past the Lido in a head sea, palms split on the loom, and never once did we ask for anything but the stroke."

He let that sit. "Now there is a hull that outruns us. Outruns us! And all we ask is to look upon her bones. The sea is one sea, Messer Doge, and every man of us pulls on it. We ask for the design."

The tar bench roared as a ship’s company told that its wine ration had been decreased. The old rule required any hull built in the lagoon for war to be shown to the Arsenal’s masters.

Naves were merchant ships and didn’t fall under that rule, but some of the house’s war galleys shared the same bones, and the complaint named all five.

Ziani turned the leaf and read it to the end, moving his lips as he went.

"Ebbene."

A long breath through the nose. "Ebbene, Messeri. Pian, pian. I will read all of it, and I will read it in order, as one eats a proper supper, course by course. The rule first, then the rolls, then the warden’s old entry, then the house’s answer."

Two fingers came to rest on the page, light as a blessing.

"And until I have come to the last leaf, the yard stays shut."

The Doge read for twenty days, through the rule, the Avogadori’s rolls, the warden’s old entry, and the house’s answer in Caterina’s hand. He even read the Arsenal’s candle accounts, since a man who opens a matter ought to finish it.

The benches chose their sides and stayed there.

The Marinai wanted the design, while the Old called it a matter of the Republic’s safety. The Young, who had always wanted shipyards capable of outbuilding the Arsenal, divided down the middle, while the Netti waited for a faction to offer them an honor.

At the shipyard, two hundred carpenters played dice on the ribs. Every dawn, red caps in good shoes stood in the mud outside the wall, and every noon the barge arrived.

At the Riva, Caterina kept the fleets in harbor. The war galleys had been named in the complaint, and a galley that sailed under a charge against it might find the door closed when it returned. The houses’ silver lay in the cargo, earning nothing, while the house paid wages to two hundred workers every day without giving them anything to build.

On the twentieth day, Vito stopped waiting.

He went to Nestor first, at night, in the shipyard office, before going to the Doge, the Councillors, or even his own wife, who had yet to put a price on anything. He asked his question and offered no deal until the maestro answered it.

Nestor cursed for the length of the rope-walk, in three tongues and a fourth he invented on the spot for the Marinai, then asked what a master earned in wages at the Arsenal. Vito told him, and he cursed again, this time more briefly.

He wanted two things written down. First, for the Avogadori to enter him as a free man in their own rolls, overriding the bribed warden’s leaf. Second, he wanted to finish the ten sets of ribs with his own gangs.

The following day, Vito laid the terms leaf flat beside the old rule on the Ducal Council’s table. He had put on the formal costume, and it fitted him worse than usual.

"Messer Doge. Messeri."

He waited until the hall had given him its silence. "The house of Barozzini has come to sell. The shipyard at Castello, we sell to the Republic, and at a fair price."

A breath. "The design of our hulls we place in the Republic’s hands, through the Councillors, as the oath requires. Master Nestor enters the Arsenal a free master, with his name clean in the rolls. And for all of this the house asks one thing only, permission to commission our hulls through the Arsenal."

The Marinai wanted the design without paying for it, and they wanted the permission struck out. The Doge made each side state aloud what the other would demand, so the Marinai named the house’s price, and the house named the Arsenal’s price for a berth.

Both figures sounded worse when spoken by the other man.

The permission stayed.

Ziani tapped the leaf once. "Ebbene. A sale, at a fair price. That I can read to the end. The stay is lifted. The Councillors will receive the design in the name of the Republic. I may not receive it myself, Messeri, so do not look at me. The Avogadori will enter Master Nestor as a free man and strike the old entry. Strike it, mind, no blotting."

He turned toward the notary at the foot of the table.

"Now read it back to me. Slowly. I like to hear a thing twice."

Caterina priced the yard in a single afternoon and sealed the deed with the Barozzini seal. The hall gave its assent without a speech, which was a small miracle in a place where silence usually meant that someone was preparing one.

The Young called it a retreat. The Old called it a gift and went looking for the hook.

The house had lost its shipyard, its secret, and its advantage over every rival in the lagoon. Vito accepted the cost and considered what it bought.

A stronger Republic suited him, and the Arsenal could lay more hulls in a season than any private yard could manage in a year. Ships were the sea, after all.

The sluice gate rose, and Menega finished her plank, twenty days late.

That night, the sheets chest stood open in the yard office, with Nestor’s adze beside it and the carpenters gone to bed. Vito called for the Purveyor, and the box was brought up into the torchlight, empty.

?? [FATE SHOP — KNOWLEDGE & BLUEPRINTS]

The Arsenal Assembly Line

A method for constructing hulls in sequence, from the first rib to the final nail, complete with standardized plans, measurements, and proportions. A faster, more reliable means of building ships for merchants, navies, and anyone tired of commissioning every vessel by hand.

Cost : 50 Fate

Fate Balance : 200 Fate

It was a matter of order, nothing more.

Every rib was cut from a mold so that they all came out alike, each carrying a number telling the gangs where it belonged. The hull moved down a canal past work gangs, each responsible for one task, while the depots stood along the water in the order the gangs would need them and seasoned timber waited in reserve so that no hull would sit idle for want of a plank.

Vito spread a fresh sheet on the bench and weighted it with Nestor’s adze. By torchlight, he wrote the method out in his own hand, sheet after sheet, as he had written the lying-in rules.

The Arsenal would have to dig its canals, raise its sheds, and arrange its depots. Even under the best circumstances, the first hull off the line was a season away, but Vito could wait.

Nestor read the document at dawn, saying no words as his calloused thumb followed each line. When he reached the final sheet, he set it down and kept his eyes on the bench.

"A liar wrote this, patrikios. A liar, Panagia mou, and a terrible one, the kind who looks God in the eye and promises Him a fleet in a season. And it is the best thing I ever read. Give me the pen. I sign."

The red caps would swallow a set of sheets from an Arsenal master without a second thought, but give them the same work under a cadet’s name and they would choke on it. Vito said nothing and allowed the Greek’s name to go at the bottom.

The following evening, a lamp burned in the office at Ca’ del Leon. Caterina sat at the oak table, her sleeves pinned above her elbows and the new leaf beneath her hand. Vito wiped a smear of ink from her wrist with his thumb, and she let him.

At last, the east wing had a roof, and the house’s clear glass filled the two windows in the children’s rooms. The twins had slept in their own rooms since the previous week, and Marouda had reported their first night to the household as a general might report the end of a siege.

They were twenty-one months old. Both had their father’s dark hair, which refused to lie flat, and dark eyes that missed nothing. Lucia carried her bitten felt horse everywhere and showed every intention of biting it again, while Leo gripped the edge of the oak table with both hands and moved along it like a ship keeping close to shore.

Vito asked for the display, and it appeared on the table.

?? [FLEET OVERVIEW — BAROZZINI’S FLEET]

Fleet Strength : 23 Ships

Effective Force : 2,350

Crews : 2,050 Sailors, Oarsmen, Officers

Company Soldiers: 300

The Southern Road | Alexandria and the Crusader Kingdoms

La Contessa | Flagship

Zustignana | Escort

La Bestemmia | Escort

15 Standard Naves | La Greca, La Barozzina, La Contarina, La Leonessa, La Quinta, L’Orsa, La Mela, L’Anguilla, La Capra, La Corda, La Piuma, Il Cappello, La Pantofola, Il Garofalo, La Basta

Company : 3rd Platoon, 1st Platoon

The Northern Road | The Horn, Soldaia, Phasis

Zorzi | Escort

La Verde | Escort

3 Standard Naves | La Rosa, Moresina, La Serena

Company: 2nd Platoon

Under Construction

10 Standard Naves | First commission through the Arsenal

The lagoon had named the three new naves.

La Pantofola took its name from Marouda’s slipper, Il Garofalo from a clove merchant who had never lived, and La Basta for reasons the Rialto had learned from a servant.

Caterina had once again written the colleganza and the accounts herself, and the new leaf showed no great increase in their returns. The silver of every house in Venezia that was not a rival’s was already bound in the venture, and the ships had multiplied faster than the silver.

She had said so once and entered it in the accounts.

The venture would therefore proceed along two roads.

Fantin and Zaccaria would take the southern route, the old and wealthy road to Alexandria and the Crusader Kingdoms, with Domenego and what remained of Pellegrino’s platoon.

The northern fleet would go to the Horn, Soldaia, and Phasis under Marin, Fantin’s eldest nephew, twenty-four years old, with the family nose and none of the family talk. Orso’s platoon, with its clerks and kin, would accompany him, along with Bepi at Zorzi’s oars.

The northern fleet carried a light cargo, a new company of guards hired in Venezia, and several state galleys loaded with timber, stone, and workers for the Phasis quarter, which belonged to the Republic and was paid for in part by the Republic.

Soldaia was no Candia, and the Republic owed it nothing, so the new guards would relieve Pellegrino’s forty men on the walls and send them home. At Soldaia, the northern fleet would take Nane aboard and carry him onward to Phasis.

Vito would remain behind for the hall, where a man had to occupy his seat if he meant to keep it, and for the children, who had already done enough growing without his help.

He sat on the matting with a felt horse in his hand when Leo let go of the oak table. The boy stretched both arms, took three steps, and sat down on his father’s boot.

Lucia stopped in the middle of a bite. She looked at her brother, then at her father, and sat down hard in the corner with her back to the room.

Caterina reached for the children’s book and began writing as she spoke, using the voice she employed for her ledger.

"Entered this evening, in the hour of the lamps. Item, Leo walked."

She let the pen hang. "Three steps. From the oak table to his father’s boot. Cause, one felt horse, held just out of reach, by a father who is no stranger to the practice. Witness, Lucia, who sat down hard in the corner and will not be moved. Father, present."

Vito grinned up at her.

"Present, am I?" Ostrega! Moglie, I am not merely present, I am the accomplice. I held the horse. Put that in the book."

He pointed the horse at her.

"No, better, send it to the Doge. He’ll read it clause by clause, and deliver judgment by San Michele."

Caterina capped the ink horn.

Three weeks late, the sea finally let them go. The southern fleet sailed beneath the black lion, and the northern fleet followed behind it with the state galleys, the Lion of San Marco flying beside the black one.

Vito and Caterina stood between the granite pillars, a child on each arm. Lucia bit her felt horse, while Leo watched the oars.

The Phasis stone had to be in place before the sea shut. The house’s first hull off the Arsenal’s new line was still a season away, and San Michele would bring another round of accounts.

Across the Bacino, workers carrying stakes and cord walked along the Arsenal’s wall, measuring out the ground for the first canal.

The last nave cleared the porto, and the first stake went into the ground.