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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 13:58:43 GMT
His Excellency Michel Amelot de Gournay, known for entertaining some of the most lavish evening banquets in Venice, sends a note to the Palazzo Ducale notifying that it is the ambassador's most ardent wish for Alvise II Mocenigo, the Doge of Venice, to attend his celebrations that evening. Along with the letter the ambassador sends the Doge a gift of the finest riding boots, made of the softest Provence leather, and a single scented white iris.
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 14:05:09 GMT
Another note is hurriedly delivered reading that the ambassador's cook, la signora Manziarly, will be serving her esteemed and very famous pork meatballs, served in a tomato and white wine reduction with fresh basil.
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Post by doge on Oct 5, 2016 16:26:37 GMT
"Bonasera, they ply me with such sweet gifts," the Doge intoned, a genuine twinkle in his eye. He put on the boots, and ordered a suit to go with them. The usual: unfrivolous.
Once Bonasera had left, he turned to Don Homer.
"This celebration, I think we will attend. It will be a pretence, to discuss matters of state. And ah! Meatballs! It has been too long."
Along with their customary bodyguards, the Doge and Don Homer take a train of carriages to the French embassy. They arrive, solemnly.
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 18:18:03 GMT
Once formalities and compliments had been exchanged with the other notables and foreign dignitaries, the French ambassador ambled his way toward the Doge's entourage. It was with relief that he noticed the Doge of the Most Serene of Republic's foot attire as he took to one knee and received the Venetian's hand with a kiss of his signet ring. The ambassador had not been sure what size feet Alvise II Mocenigo had, and as such the gift of said boots could have made for a diplomatic faux pas, had they been either too large or small. Happily, the Doge looked comfortable enough in them. Reassured, de Gournay wiped the sweat from his brow with a perfumed handkerchief before addressing the civic leader.
"Your Serenity ...", he implored, "you do me the greatest honour in attending this humble festivity in celebration of the king's victory in Germany ...", he paused and looked to either side, wary of prying ears, before continuing, "... with your consent may I suggest we move to more private and comfortable surroundings?"
The ambassador led the way through an arabesque arch into a fragrant garden where a table and two comfortable chairs and two cups of the Doge's favourite Veneto Soave lay waiting. The ambassador moved behind one of the chairs and pulled it from under the table while gesturing that the Doge ought to seat himself.
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Post by doge on Oct 5, 2016 20:26:32 GMT
"Ah, how comfortable. Yes, this will do," the Doge said, lowering himself into the chair. Something popped audibly as he did so.
"And so, to business. Forgive me, but I presume you did not invite me here for the meatballs only?"
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 21:31:53 GMT
"It is with remorse that my majesty learnt of your plight with the Ottomans. It is with regret that France could not have been of assistance to you in defending Morea and Dalmatia from the clutches of the Turk. It is my majesty's view that an attack on one Christian nation is an attack on all of Christendom. It is his wish to form cordial relations with you in order to form an alliance with which to reclaim lost Venetian territory and to restore the dignity of your republic."
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Post by doge on Oct 5, 2016 21:39:39 GMT
"His majesty need not have worried," the Doge deflected, "It was not his concern, while held by a continent spanning war. Who would give the troubles of an Italian backwater any time?"
He sniffed.
"No, frankly, Morea was a waste of resources. The locals resented us, and provided nothing for the Republic. Other than grief."
His tone softened, and his voice seemed to crackle.
"I wept tears of blood for Split. Such a beautiful town. If you have an opportunity to visit, I suggest you take it. There is a cafe, by the harbour front that fries shellfish in spagh- I get ahead of myself. What was the Republic to do? We are at the end of a great era. Perhaps the future is not ordained to us, but to the Barbary Turk?"
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 21:51:51 GMT
"Do not weep Your Serenity," the ambassador produced the same handkerchief he'd been using to wipe his brow all evening, it only occurred to him after the Doge had received it that it was in all probability wet with his diaphoresis. "Never mind" he thought while watching the Doge blow his nose, soiling it even further.
The Frenchman continued, "... the Sun King is a man of great vision. Already he has begun drawing the plans that will eventually see the Balkans returned to their rightful and most correct Christian sovereigns. It is only with the cooperation of such great powers as yours however that such a feat can be accomplished. Venice plays a very great and central role in the King's thinking regarding his dream to liberate Christendom from the Mohammedan Scourge. It is his most sincere wish for your republic to esteem and love France as dearly as my sovereign holds your beautiful city in his heart. I speak of an alliance, your Serenity."
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Post by doge on Oct 5, 2016 21:56:16 GMT
The Doge returns the handkerchief, and maintains an intrigued silence. His raised eyebrow prompted elaboration.
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 5, 2016 22:01:31 GMT
"I shall be blunt, I can see you are a man of intelligence ..."
Not knowing what to do with the handkerchief the ambassador vacillates for a moment before throwing it in a plant pot to his side.
"In return for recognition of the place of Phillip V of Spain in the French line of succession, France will pledge to not only guarantee your territorial integrity and sovereignty, but also to restore the dignity of this great republic by pushing its frontiers against the Ottoman."
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Post by doge on Oct 7, 2016 15:31:02 GMT
The Doge turned to set his gaze over the terrace, towards the harbour. In the night, torchlight shimmered on the waters. Men could be heard hauling, heave-ho-ing, the various grunts of labour. From a potted plant came a plaintive mewl, and the Doge's cat, a stubby-tailed Manx, marched over towards the table. It lept up to its master's lap, and curled up.
"He follows me everywhere." The Doge offered an explanation. He inhaled, and set his mind to thinking.
"I am intrigued by your proposition. Certainly, I would like to tie Venice and France, but with Austria to the north, and the war ongoing. There is also the Ottoman question, one which I hope to have solved. I - OH!"
The Doge was interrupted by a loud TOOT from the harbour. A ship's horn, and the sound of ships leaving port. A larger ship led a crowd of turbulent Galleases, oars splashing and frothing the waters.
"They seem to have left early."
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 7, 2016 16:03:06 GMT
With bemusement the ambassador cocked his head toward the harbour and found himself wondering why it was these Italian republics had such a tendency to elect such cryptic figures as their civic leaders. He cleared his throat and continued the conversation, "... the meatballs grow colder by the minute, Your Serenity. If you are unwilling to agree to the terms I outlined in general terms a moment ago, perhaps you would do well to think upon them and enjoy my hospitality until such a time as you are ready to clarify your position. My guests await, we ought probably to make our way back and enjoin the evening's festivities and vittles."
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Post by doge on Oct 7, 2016 16:16:16 GMT
"I have," the Doge replied, "Sent the Venetian fleet to join the other Italian ships under the aegis of His Holiness."
He paused, and frowned.
"The Republic bears France no ill will. I hope that our ships do not meet at sea. The Barbary Pirates have been sacking Christendom for far too long, and we intend to set them free of their errors. If France wishes to join us in this mission, I would be glad to have your assistance. Unless..."
The Doge pouted, and shrugged.
"I was in the middle of writing a letter to inform the Ottoman Embassy of my decision when I received your invitation. I do hope that this doesn't lead France and Venice along a path of war."
"But come. The meatballs. I am sure that they will be the best meal I will eat for the rest of my life."
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Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 7, 2016 17:07:03 GMT
Nonplussed, the ambassador pulls his chair from under the table and stands before he takes a long breath.
Unsmiling, he intones toward the door, "My guests are waiting."
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Post by doge on Oct 7, 2016 17:35:53 GMT
"In which case, I would hate to keep them waiting," the Doge answers, with a smile that does not reach his eyes.
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