Florence

Vitus rode his white horse, surveying the wheat fields on either side of the road. It was winter, the season when wheat lay dormant. The low shoots had to endure the entire bitter winter before their stems and leaves could stand tall again in spring. Narrow furrows stretched into the distance along gentle slopes, and the church bells ringing from a far-off village startled birds from the fields.

Vitus watched for a moment, then turned his attention to himself. "My elder brother went to France with the delegation. What should I do?"

Should he return to Constantinople?

Among Emperor Manuel's children, the eldest, John, was widely recognized as the heir. He had been crowned co-emperor and was gradually taking over the affairs of state.

The second son, Theodore, was the Despot of Morea and had married the niece of Pope Martin V.

The third son, Andronikos, was the Despot of Thessaloniki.

The fifth son, Constantine, wielded no real power, but enjoyed the empress's favor and the trust of the heir and the ministers.

After them came two underage sons, Demetrius and Thomas. Vitus felt he was regarded about as highly as they were. Even if he returned to Constantinople, he wouldn't be able to accomplish much.

At the thought, he unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest. Hidden inside his clothes was the reward for his last battle—a bank draft from Giulio (Lettera di Cambio, an exchange certificate).

By this period, Italy's financial system was already quite advanced. The draft was made of parchment, issued by Di Maggio Bank, and worth a thousand Florins (Ducats). Its bearer could cash it in Florence, Rome, Genoa, Marseille, Venice, Naples, and other cities.

There was no doubt it was a fortune, equivalent to a century's wages for an ordinary Italian citizen and enough to buy a country estate. The heir had also given Vitus two hundred Ducats for travel expenses before leaving. That would cover his day-to-day costs, but it was nowhere near enough to start a business.

Vitus's notebook recorded two inventions from the future: the Spinning Jenny and bone china.

The Spinning Jenny could greatly increase the speed of spinning. Bone china was made from bone ash, kaolin, and quartz, and could serve as a substitute for porcelain from the East.

The trouble was, there were no patent laws in this era. Italian merchants could copy his inventions, then use their deep pockets and distribution networks to crush Vitus's business.

"Whew. Doing business is hard."

Just then, Giulio happened to ride up beside Vitus. "Your Highness, do you plan to return to Constantinople, or sail to France and catch up with the Eastern Roman delegation?"

"I don't know."

Noticing the young man's gloom, Giulio took the opportunity to suggest, "The rift between Milan and Florence can't be mended. A decisive battle is inevitable. I'd like to ask you to help me once more—as an artillery commander, assisting my eldest son, Pauli."

Me, a member of the Eastern Roman royal family, serving as a mercenary for a merchant?

Vitus was about to say something when Giulio named his offer: a thousand Florins a year, plus a share of the spoils.

That much?

A senior official in the Eastern Roman Empire earned about three hundred Ducats a year, and even that pay was often overdue. The emperor frequently made up the shortfall with grain and silk.

Venice and Florence were in good financial shape, yet an annual salary of a thousand Ducats was still rare. Vitus stared at him in disbelief. "All right, I accept. I'll keep using the alias 'Anthony Doukas.' But why are you offering such a high salary?"

Giulio's smile faded. He gazed toward the rolling hills in the distance. A cold wind blew in from the Alps, whipping his cloak about.

"By the standards of an artillery commander, this salary is indeed far too high, but your value goes beyond that. I've been a banker for decades. I've traveled all over Europe, helped several kings raise funds for war, and met commanders of every kind, including Henry V and Jan Žižka...

"I feel you share a special ability with them: an instinct for controlling the battlefield. That talent is extraordinarily rare. You could say you were born for war."

Vitus couldn't tell whether the wealthy merchant was flattering him or praising him in earnest. He said no more, silently following the group until a magnificent city came into view, with towering walls, numerous square towers, and grand gates.

"Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. We've finally arrived."

According to Giulio, at the height of its prosperity in the fourteenth century, Florence had a population of 120,000. Then the Black Death struck in 1348, and the city's population plunged. Florence had grown slowly over the decades since, and its population now numbered only 60,000. Much of the city lay empty.

Vitus thought to himself, Constantinople and Florence have similar populations. Constantinople covers about two and a half times the urban area of Florence, and is far more dilapidated.

They passed through San Gallo Gate, and the noise suddenly swelled. The ground floors of the houses along the street were shops, while the second and third floors were living quarters. The upstairs shutters stood open, and nearly every windowsill held a terracotta flowerpot. In the depths of winter, only a few withered leaves and bare branches remained.

As they turned a corner, the pungent smell of alum washed over them. Vitus couldn't help covering his nose and mouth.

Wool guild workshops lined both sides of the street, where workers were washing and dyeing cloth. A few apprentices shook out scarlet woollen fabric at the entrance. Its color was so vivid it seemed capable of melting snow.

"The city's main industries are finance and textiles, some of the most profitable trades around. That's why there's enough money to sponsor literature and art, and why the Renaissance was born here. Tsk, it's nice to be rich."

At that thought, Vitus asked Giulio about two names: Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo Buonarroti. The merchant shook his head repeatedly.

"Never heard of them. Are you sure they're from Florence? If you're interested in art, you could seek out Fabriano and Donatello. They're the great artists worth paying attention to."

As the two chatted, the group made its way through narrow, bustling streets and reached the wealthy district on higher ground.

The next moment, the gate opened. Vitus stepped into the courtyard, and the noise outside was cut off in an instant.

Gentle winter sunlight poured down, illuminating the entire courtyard. A pool had been built at its center, surrounded by elegant arcades. Slender stone columns supported the semicircular arches.

At his host's direction, Vitus went to the guest room on the second floor. When he opened the window, Florence's iconic view spread before him. The rooftops of most buildings were covered in orange-red tiles, forming a warm, mottled sea of color.

In the distance, the magnificent Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore was still under construction. Its vast dome remained unfinished. The pealing bells drifted closer, and Vitus could just make out tiny figures working high above.