Chapter 674: Abdullah, Venezia, Piazza San Marco
"They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer."
- Nerissa, scene ii, the Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare
Early spring, February of year 1470, Republic of Venice.
Under constant, careful watch, a galley navigated through the Canal della Giudecca and docked at the Docks of Venezia beside the Arsenale. Three Venetian warships trailed behind, their cannons exposed, seemingly ready to fire at any moment.
Abdullah had expressed his wish to launch a state visit to the Serene Republic of Venezia in early January and departed to the border city of Vlore (Avlonya), waiting there for a month. However, receiving no response from the Venetian Senate and feeling agitated and disrespected, he could wait no longer. Thus, he made a daring choice: he recruited a war galley from the navy and charged into the Adriatic Sea, flying nothing but a white flag to show his peaceful intentions.
The Venetian patrol fleet spotted this ship the moment it entered the Adriatic against the Venetian embargo, leading to a standoff with both sides revealing their weaponry aimed at each other. A messenger was sent to the Venetian ship, handing over Abdullah’s letter again to convey his intentions. The Venetian ships, taken by surprise and unsure of what to do next without the presence of a higher authority, dispatched the fastest ship they could find back to Venice to report the situation and seek further instructions, while continuing to have their weapons in position.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
A week later, a few more ships returned, bearing instructions directly from the Serene Doge himself: "Bring that man here," as ordered.
Thus, the Venetian ships formed a formation on the spot, and by mid-February, after spending a whole week plus floating on the Adriatic Sea, Abdullah finally stepped his feet on the docks of Venice. In fact, he is probably the first high ranking Roman official to ever step foot on Venetian dock being an equal diplomatic partner backed by a strong nation, for the first time ever since the Fourth Crusade.
A few Venetian officials were already awaiting his arrival. Upon meeting him, the Venetian diplomatic counterparts immediately stepped forward to greet him, graciously thanking him in Greek for his arrival. They led him and his diplomatic team onto luxurious carriages, escorting them to a sumptuous estate for foreign delegates right beside the Senate House and Piazza San Marco.
As Abdullah walked through the streets of Venice, he was captivated by the unique blend of Byzantine and Gothic architecture that defined the city. The grandeur of the Piazza San Marco, with its bustling marketplace filled with artisans and merchants, offered a vivid tableau of medieval Venetian life. The Basilica of San Marco, adorned with its golden mosaics, stood as a testament to Venice’s wealth and artistic heritage. The towering Campanile echoed the city’s prowess and the Doge’s Palace, with its intricate façades, spoke of a history rich with intrigue and power.
To Abdullah, Venice was a city unlike any other, a marvel of human ingenuity and spirit, cradled by the gentle waves of the Adriatic. But there is one thing that he cannot forget, that is this Piazza is decorated with Roman Antiquities, like the Portrait of the Four Tetrarchs, which was once in the Great Palace, Constantinople.
How did it end up here in Venice? Everyone knows.
Yet, no sooner had the initial warmth of reception cooled, than the Venetians reverted to their calculated delays, confining Abdullah and his entourage to a lavish yet isolating estate. Guarded under the guise of protection, their movements were limited to the estate’s interiors and a garden atop the roof, overseen by vigilant guards whose true intent was thinly veiled.
As days melded into a week, the Venetian Senate seemed to recede further into inaction. Abdullah’s inquiries about his audience with the Serene Doge were met with dismissive smirks and vague mentions of pressing matters concerning the Habsburgs to the north. This stonewalling left Abdullah and his delegation in a limbo, cut off from the world outside, as though trapped in a vacuum of silence and waiting.
Another whole week passed, with Abdullah and his team grounded there.
Resolved that this deadlock could not persist, Abdullah recognised the urgency to assert his agency and safeguard their mission’s objectives. In a decisive move, he chose to step out from the shadows of passive diplomacy. Early one morning, adorned with the solemnity of his cause, he emerged from the estate flanked by two servants. One bore aloft the banner of the double-headed eagle, symbolising the Roman Empire’s enduring legacy; the other carried the private insignia of the scarlet lion, a personal emblem of Abdullah’s authority and resolve.
Together, they strode from their gilded cage, the morning air crisp with the promise of action, determined to navigate the intricate dance of diplomacy on their own terms.
As Abdullah stepped decisively towards the doorway, the vigilant Venetian guards promptly positioned themselves to obstruct his exit. Their urgent voices echoed, "Your Highness! You are not to leave these quarters!"
With a composed and sovereign gaze, Abdullah confronted them, his voice steady, "And why is that? Have orders been issued to detain me against my will?"
The guards, momentarily taken aback, found themselves at a loss for words. It was not long before their commander approached, his response respectful yet tinged with apprehension. "Your Highness, I implore you, the city beyond these walls holds many uncertainties. We haven’t confined you out of malice; our presence here is solely for your safeguarding."
"Is that so?" Abdullah retorted, his tone laced with scepticism. "You speak as if the streets are battlefields, threatening my life at every turn. Should that truly be the case, would that not reflect a failure in your duties? Should that be the case, would that not make you fail the responsibilities assigned to you by the Senate and the people?"
The commander, visibly unnerved, struggled to formulate a response.
Abdullah, seizing control of the conversation, asserted, "Nevertheless, my intentions lie not in seeking danger but in visiting your Senate House. Should my safety concern you, I welcome your accompaniment, and escort me to the premise, would that be fine for you?"
After a brief, uncertain glance shared among the guards, the commander acquiesced, "Very well, it is my obligation to ensure your well-being."
With a flourish of his robe, Abdullah advanced towards the Senate House, located a stone’s throw from Piazza San Marco. The city guard commander, with a contingent of his men, trailed closely behind. This procession, an unusual spectacle on the square, seemed almost anachronistic—a delegation from the Republic’s age-old adversary, heralded by the emblems of the double-headed eagle and the scarlet lion, making their way through the Venetian streets. Onlookers gathered, their curiosity piqued by the sight of Venetian soldiers escorting two banners symbolising entities often deemed foes, through the vibrant heart of Venice, drawing the collective gaze of the city’s inhabitants.
Among the Venetian populace, a mixture of reactions unfurled. While some looked on with visible indignation, a larger portion was seized by an insatiable curiosity, pondering the purpose behind this unprecedented assembly. They converged around the procession, transforming the scene into a focal point of communal interest within the heart of the forum.
Stationed firmly before the prestigious Venetian Senate House, amidst a pivotal assembly within, Abdullah paused, his posture commanding respect. Flanked by servants who lofted the esteemed banners skyward, they stood as beacons of their heritage and purpose. The encircling guards, now duty-bound, formed a protective barrier, shielding this emblematic assembly from the burgeoning crowd’s unpredictability. Even the Senate’s own guards, typically unyielding, found themselves hesitating, uncertain of how to engage with the dignitary who, though on the cusp of a sanctified threshold, bore the unmistakable symbols of Greek (Roman) sovereignty.
Abdullah, embodying the essence of stoic resolve, inhaled deeply, his stance unwavering as he fixed his gaze upon the Senate’s windows, a silent testament to his conviction. Behind him, the two servants holding the flags up high, the vigilant Venetian guards, and the increasingly intrigued onlookers painted a vivid tableau of anticipation and silent diplomacy.
Abdullah just stood there, like a statue, for he knows the power of silence.
The tension escalated until a Senate guard, no longer able to bear the weight of inaction, rushed back into the chamber, seeking counsel. He returned, accompanied by a clergyman who beseeched Abdullah to retreat to his lodgings, promising imminent attention to his cause.
Yet, Abdullah remained unmoved, his silence a powerful statement, as the sun climbed higher, casting a golden glow that etched his resolute features against the morning light.
Time seemed to stand still as minutes melded into an hour, the gathering’s anticipation palpable.
Then, breaking the morning’s stillness, the formidable gates of the Senate House creaked open, laying bare a path for the Roman Empire’s Lord Chancellor, finally.
