Acre, which stood on top of a hill separating the Venetian and the Genoese
quarters. The two opposing communities, representing two rival Italian
city-states, quarreled over its control. One day, the Genoese, supported by the
Pisans, seized the building by force. They then fell upon their Venetian
neighbors and started a riot. This conflict was part of a 200 year struggle
between Genoa and Venice for dominating trade with the Levant, which now escalated
into a full-scale war.
The conflict then spread
to Tyre, where the Venetians joined forces with the Pisans, who had switched
sides. They also acquired the support of the Knights Templar and the Teutonic
Knights, while the Genoese recruited the Knights of the Hospital to their
cause, so that eventually, every community had aligned itself with one side or
the other. The situation deteriorated into street fights, and then to naval
battles. Even after a truce was brokered by the Pope in 1261, the skirmishes
continued intermittently.
* * *
Secola, the Venetian, could
hardly contain his rage. “Yes, the Genoese dragged us into a war we had to
fight back and win.”
Simeone rose from his
chair furiously. “I must protest...”
The Patriarch raised
his hand. “This is enough, Monsignors. Your behavior is just proving my point,
but we have to put all this behind us. What’s done is done and we must not
discuss this subject anymore. I apologize for having brought it up."
Simeone tried to get
back into his seat, but at that moment, the whole room trembled violently, and
he fell. All five men were tossed to the floor, and started rolling from side
to side, banging against furniture and walls. From the corner of his eye,
Philippe saw Secola’s head hit the massive leg of the table and heard the dull,
sickening sound of the blow. Secola lost consciousness, and his body was now
being tossed around like a lifeless dummy, rolling from one end of the room to
the other, with the rocking of the galley. Philippe tried to crawl towards the
door but the swinging, which kept getting stronger, made movement difficult and
kept him smashing into all kinds of objects. Eventually, he managed to get to
the door and open it. The Patriarch was struggling behind him, and Philippe
extended his hand and pulled him outside. Somehow, the two managed to crawl up
the stairway and reach the deck.
They found the deck in
total chaos. The sea, which was still and smooth when they left Acre, was now
raging. A storm was blowing fiercer and stronger, and the galley rolled from
side to side like a seesaw. The extra load caused the ship to lie very low in
the water and with the amplitude of the swinging steadily growing, the waves
started licking the sides of the deck as it tilted towards them. Presently, the
line of oars on the high side of the galley rose above the waterline. The oars
hit air, causing some of the rowing slaves to lose their balance and fall
backwards, perpetrating even more havoc. On the packed deck, people were
running from side to side to keep away from the water, and many fell down to be
trampled upon by the hysterical mass.
The swinging grew worse
and with it the screams of horror from the crowd. Philippe saw a woman, with an
infant in her arms, falling and sliding all the way down the sloping deck, her
slide broken only by the railing on the other side. She lost consciousness, and
the small infant was torn out of her hands and shot into the waves.
The galley was getting
out of control. The Captain stood on the bridge, shouting. He was holding on to
the railing with much difficulty, and looked totally helpless. Philippe
estimated that within a few more swings, the waves would overflow the deck,
placing the galley in immediate danger of capsizing. He realized that he must save
himself and the valuable asset he was carrying. The only way, dangerous as it
might be, was to jump into the water and try to hang on to something. He might
then be saved by another ship or drift to the
quarters. The two opposing communities, representing two rival Italian
city-states, quarreled over its control. One day, the Genoese, supported by the
Pisans, seized the building by force. They then fell upon their Venetian
neighbors and started a riot. This conflict was part of a 200 year struggle
between Genoa and Venice for dominating trade with the Levant, which now escalated
into a full-scale war.
The conflict then spread
to Tyre, where the Venetians joined forces with the Pisans, who had switched
sides. They also acquired the support of the Knights Templar and the Teutonic
Knights, while the Genoese recruited the Knights of the Hospital to their
cause, so that eventually, every community had aligned itself with one side or
the other. The situation deteriorated into street fights, and then to naval
battles. Even after a truce was brokered by the Pope in 1261, the skirmishes
continued intermittently.
* * *
Secola, the Venetian, could
hardly contain his rage. “Yes, the Genoese dragged us into a war we had to
fight back and win.”
Simeone rose from his
chair furiously. “I must protest...”
The Patriarch raised
his hand. “This is enough, Monsignors. Your behavior is just proving my point,
but we have to put all this behind us. What’s done is done and we must not
discuss this subject anymore. I apologize for having brought it up."
Simeone tried to get
back into his seat, but at that moment, the whole room trembled violently, and
he fell. All five men were tossed to the floor, and started rolling from side
to side, banging against furniture and walls. From the corner of his eye,
Philippe saw Secola’s head hit the massive leg of the table and heard the dull,
sickening sound of the blow. Secola lost consciousness, and his body was now
being tossed around like a lifeless dummy, rolling from one end of the room to
the other, with the rocking of the galley. Philippe tried to crawl towards the
door but the swinging, which kept getting stronger, made movement difficult and
kept him smashing into all kinds of objects. Eventually, he managed to get to
the door and open it. The Patriarch was struggling behind him, and Philippe
extended his hand and pulled him outside. Somehow, the two managed to crawl up
the stairway and reach the deck.
They found the deck in
total chaos. The sea, which was still and smooth when they left Acre, was now
raging. A storm was blowing fiercer and stronger, and the galley rolled from
side to side like a seesaw. The extra load caused the ship to lie very low in
the water and with the amplitude of the swinging steadily growing, the waves
started licking the sides of the deck as it tilted towards them. Presently, the
line of oars on the high side of the galley rose above the waterline. The oars
hit air, causing some of the rowing slaves to lose their balance and fall
backwards, perpetrating even more havoc. On the packed deck, people were
running from side to side to keep away from the water, and many fell down to be
trampled upon by the hysterical mass.
The swinging grew worse
and with it the screams of horror from the crowd. Philippe saw a woman, with an
infant in her arms, falling and sliding all the way down the sloping deck, her
slide broken only by the railing on the other side. She lost consciousness, and
the small infant was torn out of her hands and shot into the waves.
The galley was getting
out of control. The Captain stood on the bridge, shouting. He was holding on to
the railing with much difficulty, and looked totally helpless. Philippe
estimated that within a few more swings, the waves would overflow the deck,
placing the galley in immediate danger of capsizing. He realized that he must save
himself and the valuable asset he was carrying. The only way, dangerous as it
might be, was to jump into the water and try to hang on to something. He might
then be saved by another ship or drift to the
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