The rain fell thick and thin, drawing circles on the harbor water and enveloping Venice in a silence that seemed suspended. The lanterns cast flickering shadows on the planks of the piers, while the sailing ship Speranza rocked gently, like a sleeping creature guarding a secret. That night, amidst the fog and salt, four men met in secret: Luzzatto, the most restless; Corner, elegant and cautious; Barbarigo, refined but taut as a rope; and finally Da Lezze, a man of the sea, rough and practical, master of the ship.
They slipped into the captain's cabin to escape the rain and the world, sitting around a stove that spread a slow, melancholy heat. There, amid the crackling fire and the smell of wet wood, they spoke to each other in low voices, as if even the walls might betray them. Their words, initially cautious, began to become harsher, like blows struck in an invisible duel. What united them was not friendship, but a golden chain of debts, threats, and fears. Outside, the rain continued to fall, and the sound of the sea seemed like the slow beating of a waiting heart, while in the Speranza's cabin, a fate was being decided from which no one could return.
In the silence of the harbour, between stove and yellowed charts, a secret decision unmoors the last anchors of their lives.
Tales. 1572 — Carnival of Blood. Chapter 11. The Conclave on the Ship
The rain fell slow and steady, one of those rains that make no noise yet seep everywhere, into the seams of cloaks, into thoughts, into the bones. The night seemed to hold its breath over the port of Venice: a veil of moisture descended from the low clouds, and the smell of the sea, of tar and rotting seaweed, mingled with the smoke of the braziers that still burned here and there along the foundations. The lanterns, their glass panes fogged, threw trembling shadows across the wet planks of the piers.
The ship Speranza rocked only gently, moored like a sleeping beast. Ropes dripped like gleaming serpents, and the sails, furled and lashed, were dark with rain. The name of the ship, carved in golden letters on the stern, flashed now and then beneath the flickers of the boatswain’s lantern as he moved from one end to the other to make sure everything remained quiet. No one was to know that that night, on that ship, decisions would be made destined to change many fates.
The first to arrive was Luzzatto, wrapped in a black cloak lined with velvet.
His tall, thin figure moved briskly, the hood pulled low over his face, one gloved hand holding the cloak closed at his chest. He glanced around, watching the movements of the shadows along the calli, then hurried toward the gangway of the Speranza. He made a sign to the guard, who recognised him and opened the way without a word. Rain ran down his thin beard, and the dull sound of his boots on the wet boards seemed the beat of a drum announcing an omen......
