opaque depths within a moment. Nets were of little use: the deepsmen spent little time in the Grand Canal, only flashing across it fast enough to do damage. Instead, they prowled the narrower waters, where no boat large enough to haul up the full weight of a deepsman could travel. Citizens waited on the banks grasping harpoons; the deepsmen swam silently under the water, concealed in the cloudy brown tide, only flashing up for long enough to cast rocks, toppling the huntsmen, dragging their bleeding bodies into the canals, never to surface again.
The city fell under siege. But as the Venetians struggled to make it past the deepsmen’s barricade into the harbour, Constantinople did nothing to help. Venice was weakening, and the setbacks of a subject people were no hardship to a city with a whole world of cities to command. Let Venice struggle, Constantinople decided. If Venice broke, they would be more obedient to their liege city; the Venetians had struggled hard for self-rule, but if their new-minted independence was no help against the enemy within, so much the better for Constantinople’s hold on them.
Venice turned from the East to Charlemagne, Emperor of the West. In the year of our Lord 805, Allard explained, on Christmas Day—a term foreign to Henry, to whom birthdays were a mystery and days were reckoned by season, not by month, even if the story had not involved more of that disagreeable crossed statue—the Venetians did homage to Charlemagne, Charles the Great, newly crowned and formidable. The Doge of Venice, Oberlerio, took to wife a Frankish bride, a woman from across the seas, a woman of the Western race, who became something entirely new: a Dogaressa, queen of Venice.
This, Allard told Henry, was not an easy question for the Venetians. They argued about it, he explained, for five years—an unbelievable lifetime to carry on a quarrel, Henry considered, especially as the quarrel, complicated though Allard made it sound, seemed like a simple one: they had a choice of leaders, there were greater tribes in the world who wanted to rule them and the Venetians didn’t want any of them. Allard used words like “strong” and “proud,” spoke of freedom to govern oneself, independence from a greater power. The boy flinched a little as Allard’s gestures grew larger, wondering why these ideas seemed to drive the man so. But it was clear that Allard did not approve when he spoke of how the Doges, desperate to free themselves from the tyranny of the blockading deepsmen, managed to smuggle a message to the King of Italy: Pepin, son of Charlemagne. The message was clear: come to Venice. The offer was not alliance. It was submission. Pepin was invited to conquer Venice, hold the city against Constantinople, to settle internal divisions and, most importantly, to drive the deepsmen from the canals. The Venetian people might have wanted independence, but with the deepsmen in their canals, their leaders had decided otherwise. They would follow Constantinople, if Constantinople would help them.
To the canals of Venice came Pepin, hastily prepared, unaware of the anger of the Venetians who awaited him. In defiance of their leaders, the citizens gathered, ready to battle the invaders. But as Pepin’s ships sailed into the bay, a sight met their eyes that struck them like a wonder. The deepsmen had gathered to fight.
The sea people did not share the landsmen’s view of nationhood.More land people arriving in great ships were simply more people making claim on their canals. The sea people massed, called to each other across the miles of water and swam out to meet the fleet. With sharp rocks and strong hands, they breached hulls within minutes. The massive galleons of the enemy went down. The canals of Venice filled with floating spars, and the air filled with the crash of splitting wood and the shrieks of drowning men. And through the noise, the resonant song of the deepsmen sounded, a deep bass
The city fell under siege. But as the Venetians struggled to make it past the deepsmen’s barricade into the harbour, Constantinople did nothing to help. Venice was weakening, and the setbacks of a subject people were no hardship to a city with a whole world of cities to command. Let Venice struggle, Constantinople decided. If Venice broke, they would be more obedient to their liege city; the Venetians had struggled hard for self-rule, but if their new-minted independence was no help against the enemy within, so much the better for Constantinople’s hold on them.
Venice turned from the East to Charlemagne, Emperor of the West. In the year of our Lord 805, Allard explained, on Christmas Day—a term foreign to Henry, to whom birthdays were a mystery and days were reckoned by season, not by month, even if the story had not involved more of that disagreeable crossed statue—the Venetians did homage to Charlemagne, Charles the Great, newly crowned and formidable. The Doge of Venice, Oberlerio, took to wife a Frankish bride, a woman from across the seas, a woman of the Western race, who became something entirely new: a Dogaressa, queen of Venice.
This, Allard told Henry, was not an easy question for the Venetians. They argued about it, he explained, for five years—an unbelievable lifetime to carry on a quarrel, Henry considered, especially as the quarrel, complicated though Allard made it sound, seemed like a simple one: they had a choice of leaders, there were greater tribes in the world who wanted to rule them and the Venetians didn’t want any of them. Allard used words like “strong” and “proud,” spoke of freedom to govern oneself, independence from a greater power. The boy flinched a little as Allard’s gestures grew larger, wondering why these ideas seemed to drive the man so. But it was clear that Allard did not approve when he spoke of how the Doges, desperate to free themselves from the tyranny of the blockading deepsmen, managed to smuggle a message to the King of Italy: Pepin, son of Charlemagne. The message was clear: come to Venice. The offer was not alliance. It was submission. Pepin was invited to conquer Venice, hold the city against Constantinople, to settle internal divisions and, most importantly, to drive the deepsmen from the canals. The Venetian people might have wanted independence, but with the deepsmen in their canals, their leaders had decided otherwise. They would follow Constantinople, if Constantinople would help them.
To the canals of Venice came Pepin, hastily prepared, unaware of the anger of the Venetians who awaited him. In defiance of their leaders, the citizens gathered, ready to battle the invaders. But as Pepin’s ships sailed into the bay, a sight met their eyes that struck them like a wonder. The deepsmen had gathered to fight.
The sea people did not share the landsmen’s view of nationhood.More land people arriving in great ships were simply more people making claim on their canals. The sea people massed, called to each other across the miles of water and swam out to meet the fleet. With sharp rocks and strong hands, they breached hulls within minutes. The massive galleons of the enemy went down. The canals of Venice filled with floating spars, and the air filled with the crash of splitting wood and the shrieks of drowning men. And through the noise, the resonant song of the deepsmen sounded, a deep bass
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