must be ready when the hour comes, you must know the world, its temptations, its vulgarity.
“But remember when your brother is under this roof again, I will not be here, but the Grand Council and the law will be on your side. My will shall fortify you. And your brother will lose the battle as he lost it before: you are my immortality.”
14
A FLAWLESS BLUE SKY arched over the rooftops, with only a score of perfectly white clouds sailing inland. The servants hurried through the house announcing the sea was calm and surely the Bucintoro could safely carry the Doge to San Nicolo del Lido. All the windows over the canal stood open to the balmy breeze, and brilliantly colored carpets streamed from the sills under flapping banners. It was a spectacle repeated everywhere along the banks, as grand as Tonio had ever seen it.
And when he and Marianna and Alessandro, all of them gaily dressed, descended to the little dock, he caught himself whispering aloud, “I am here, this is happening!” It seemed impossible he’d passed into the panorama he’d so often witnessed from a distance.
His father waved from the balcony above the main door. The gondola was lined with blue velvet and garlanded with flowers. The great single oar had been gilded, and Bruno, in his bright blue uniform, guided the boat out into the flow as all around them came the other great families. Tossed in the wake of a hundred before them, they poured downstream to the mouth of the canal and the piazzetta.
“There it is,” Alessandro whispered, and as the gondolas pitched forward and rocked back, seeking to hold their place in waiting, he pointed to the glare and flash of the Bucintoro itself at anchor. A giant galley resplendent in gilt and crimson, it carried the Doge’s throne and a throng of golden statues. Tonio lifted his mother by her small waist so she might see, and glancing up, he smiled to see Alessandro’s muted wonder.
He himself could hardly endure the excitement. All his life he would remember it, he thought, this moment when the trumpets and fifes let loose shrill and magnificent in the air to announce that the Doge was being carried from the Palazzo Ducale.
The sea was littered with flowers; petals everywhere rode the faceted waves so it seemed the water became solid. The golden boats of the chief magistrates were moving out, then came the ambassadors, and the papal nuncio behind them. The great warships and merchant vessels that spanned the lagoon gave off their salutes with flags unfurling.
And finally all the fleet of patricians advanced towards the lighthouse of the Lido.
Cries, waving, chattering, laughter, it was a great lovely roar in his ears.
But nothing surpassed the cry that went up when the Doge had cast his ring into the water. All the bells of the island rang, the trumpets blasted; thousands upon thousands cheered at the top of their voices.
It seemed the whole city was afloat, roaring in one great communal cry, and then it broke up, boats turning back to the island by whichever way they chose, great trains of silk and satin spread out behind them to float on the water. It was chaotic, it was mad, it was dazzling. The sun blinded Tonio; he raised his hand to shield his eyes as Alessandro steadied him. The Lisani came alongside, their gondoliers in rose-colored garments, their servants pitching white blossoms into their wake, as Catrina threw kisses with both hands, her dress of silver damask ballooning out behind her.
It was enough in itself. He was spent and almost dizzy and felt he wanted to retreat to some little shady corner of the world just to savor it.
What more could happen? And when Alessandro told them they were now going to the Doge’s feast at the Palazzo Ducale he was almost laughing.
Hundreds were seated at the long white-draped tables; a fortune in wax blazed over the heavy silver carving of the candelabra while servants streamed through the doors carrying elaborate dishes on giant trays—fruits, ices, steaming platters of meat—and along the walls the common people poured in to observe the never-ending spectacle.
Tonio could scarce taste anything; Marianna was whispering every moment of what she saw, who was this, who was that, Alessandro’s low voice giving her all the news of the world that was splendid and full of friendly marvels. The wine went at once to Tonio’s head. He saw Catrina across a great pale and smoky gulf,