Once the ship was properly provisioned with water, we put to sea. I’d never been on a galley before and watched with interest as the rowers—three on each bench—moved their long oars with practiced coordination to pull the Sea Maiden into deeper water, then let the sails carry us south. An aftercastle perched on the stern, with a smaller forecastle on the prow, but most of the deck was flat between the two banks of oarsmen. Bertaldo stationed two crossbowmen amidships, two on the aftercastle, and two on the forecastle, but the surface was clear as far as any of us could see.
“It’s good to be at sea again.” Gil closed his eyes, and contentment lined his face. We stood near the aftercastle, watching the patterns the ship carved into the sea’s surface. The rocking seemed to speak comfort to Gil. The waves did the opposite to Aban, who huddled over the back of the ship, vomiting up his last meal.
“Signorina Bertaldo seems to like you.” Gil opened his eyes and gave me a pointed look. “I’ve never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her, despite all the efforts Eudocia and I have made to find you a wife.”
“She’s promised to another man.”
“So I heard.” Gil looked at the waves. “Do you remember what you told me after I’d been poisoned and Eudocia saved me?”
“I believe I encouraged you to forget about her because I didn’t see how things could possibly end up happily for you. Poor advice, I now realize.”
Gil shrugged. “You told me that loving a woman who belonged to another man would bring only bruised backs and broken hearts. And you were right. You were right, but it was worth it.”
“Belonging to someone by ownership is different from belonging to someone by obligation.”
“Maybe, but I can’t see ownership or obligation bringing much joy to life. Mutual respect and affection are a far better foundation.”
Cecilia came on deck. I put my back against the rails next to Gil so I could better watch her. She wore a veil over a bourrelet to keep her face partially shaded and walked without favoring her injured leg. One of the oarsmen said something to her, and she laughed. The melodious sound drifted across the deck and pierced me. The crew of the Sea Maiden all admired her, I could see that. Their interactions held warmth and respect. They respected her uncle too, but seemed to serve him with duty, not with pleasure. She’d probably been on more voyages with them than Bertaldo had.
I glanced at Gil. He still watched the waves, even if he couldn’t see them very well. I kept my voice low so we wouldn’t be overheard. “It seems wrong to try to steal another man’s betrothed while he is held captive, unable to make his own case. How would you have felt if someone had tried to steal Eudocia when you were locked in the tower?”
“From what I heard, someone made efforts. If Cecilia cares for her betrothed, she will be true to him. If she doesn’t care for him, why should she have to marry him?”
Why, indeed? Family obligations, a business alliance, a duty to Venice. Nothing about happiness in any of the reasoning. Cecilia met my eyes for a moment, and her lips turned up in a smile that seemed to light her entire face. She glanced at her uncle, occupied on the forecastle, and then joined Gil and me at the rails.
“You seem comfortable at sea, Rasheed. Though perhaps not as comfortable as Messer Marinelarena.”
“Being on the sea is like coming home.” Gil straightened. “Though not perhaps for Rasheed’s brother. I will go give him some advice, or at least some commiseration.”
Gil left us to ourselves, and I studied Cecilia’s jaw. What would it be like to kiss the delicate line that ran from her ear to her chin? And what would she think if I tried?
“Have you been at sea before?” she asked.
“A few times, with the Navarrese Company. Not as much as you. Or as much as Gil. He was a whaler and a fisherman before he was a mercenary. I think he probably sailed as far to the north and the west as you’ve sailed to the south and the east.”
“I’ve never been farther south than Alexandria and Damietta or farther east than Constantinople.”
“What’s Constantinople like?” I’d heard stories of the city, but I didn’t believe all of them.
“It’s the most amazing city in the world, though Venice will always be my favorite. And Marco Polo said there are other cities, far to the east, that are even more impressive. Have you read of his travels?”
“No.”
“You must. I shall find a copy for you. It is fascinating, though I prefer sea routes to land routes.” She gazed at the waves with contentment, then a line formed next to her mouth. “Do you read?”
“Not in Italian. But I learned Arabic as a boy. And enough Greek in the last decade to keep the bathhouse records tidy.” I leaned over the rails next to her, watching the water rush past below us. “Had you inherited the Sea Maiden, I think the crew would have followed you as captain.”
“Some of them. Not all.” Her hand gripped the rail tightly, then relaxed. “Anyway, it wasn’t meant to be. Though being on board again, I wish things were different. That a woman could inherit or that one of my brothers had lived. Perhaps they would have grown to be men like our father.”
“Were you captain of the Sea Maiden, would you take me as part of your crew?” I preferred life in a town to life at sea, but if Cecilia were on the same ship, that might even out the pull.
She considered me with laughing eyes. “Perhaps. You seem disciplined, which is a trait all member of the crew must possess. You’d be useful to have around should we need warriors. And we can always use healthy men in the galleys. When you were so kind as to sacrifice your shirt for a bandage, I couldn’t help but notice that you have the needed physical strength for such a task.” The skin of her cheeks turned pink beyond the sunburn.
“You’re blushing,” I whispered.
She met my eyes, then looked out to sea. “Perhaps I am.”
Slowly, I raised my hand to her cheek and ran a knuckle softly along her skin. From the angle where we stood, no one else would be able to see the motion.
She closed her eyes and held perfectly still for a moment, then leaned into my touch. There was more of her skin I wanted to caress, much more, but I pulled my hand back. When she opened her eyes, she stared at me for a long moment. Wonder lit her face, and strange emotions tugged in my chest.
“Cecilia.” I didn’t know what to say, so I whispered her name, even though only hours ago I’d planned to start addressing her more formally.
She glanced at my lips, then blushed again and looked away. She kept one hand on the rails, and the other rested on her chest, next to her heart. But then her expression changed to something else—a sadness that pulled at her mouth and brought pain to her eyes. “Perhaps I was mistaken, Rasheed. You are not as disciplined as I thought, and I am even worse.”
“Cecilia . . .” I had no right to touch her skin, not even for a small moment, but she’d welcomed it. “We could be happy together. Surely you feel it too.”
Her face softened when I spoke her name, but then she stepped back, seeming bewildered. “I do feel something, and that is the problem. Signor Querini has never made me blush.” Her voice carried not accusation but a deep ache of sorrow. She turned and rushed away, leaving me alone, again, with a mixture of hope and dread. Hope because she was drawn to me the same way I was drawn to her. And dread because she believed she wasn’t supposed to feel anything for me at all.