SOMETHING VERY NASTY HAPPENED THIS AFTERNOON.
Instead of the food-barge, a messenger sailed over from Venice with a gift for Lord Stephen. A wooden box the size of a nosebag, tied up with ribbons of many colors.
When Lord Stephen opened his box, it was stuffed with rotten stinking fish guts, goggle-eyed and gaping-mouthed. Fish guts, fish tails, and a mess of bones.
Lord Stephen recoiled, and the messenger held out an octavo of parchment.
“Read it!” Lord Stephen snapped at me.
Grand Councillors of Venice to Lord Stephen de Holt and Milon de Provins on the Feast of Saint Andrew of Jerusalem
We sign and seal agreement with you. We make two hundred ships ready for Feast of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. We feast you with your squires.
You? You sign and seal agreement with us. You promise pay us eighty-five thousand silver marks. More, you eat our food, you drink wine ale each day.
You are no good partners, we have no faith in you. Your words are worth fish heads!
Written on Rialto
BY FOUR GRAND COUNCILLORS
Lord Stephen clapped his hands. “Saddle Stupendous!” he told me. “I’m riding over to see Milon.”