In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

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      ‘Promise me that you will take care of yourself, Kathryn.’

      ‘I shall do nothing foolish,’ she said. ‘Veronique is here to bear me company, and my friends will visit me often. When I go shopping, it will be with them and a servant to watch over us.’

      ‘I do not think Rachid will attempt to abduct you in Rome,’ Lorenzo told her. ‘I asked Michael if he would stay and guard you for me, but he says that he wants to fight by my side and I must accept his will. I am leaving men you can trust to watch over you.’

      ‘You must not worry for my sake.’

      ‘Nor you for mine,’ he said and smiled in the old, teasing way. ‘I shall return to plague you again, my love.’

      ‘See that you do,’ she said and tossed her head proudly. ‘And now you must go. You have your duty to the League.’

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘May God watch over you, Kathryn.’

      ‘And over you, my love.’

      She watched as he walked away, her heart aching. Her nails were turned into her palms and it took all her strength of will to let him go. He had come to her in love at last and it would break her heart if she should lose him now.

      Chapter Ten

      Their ships were sailing in precise formation. After weeks of talking and delay, Don John of Austria had given his orders and a mood of elation had spread throughout the fleet.

      ‘At last we shall have some action,’ Michael said to Lorenzo, when he came on board for a meeting. I had begun to think we should spend the autumn in wasted argument again.’

      ‘This venture has been blessed by the Pope and we have a very capable commander in Don John. I believe that this time something good will happen.’

      ‘I pray you are right,’ Michael answered, looking thoughtful.

      ‘There will be no more talk of turning back. If our information is correct, the Turks are settled for the winter at Lepanto.’

      ‘Unless they retreat to Constantinople.’

      It was a question their spies had been unable to answer for certain as yet, but if luck was with them they would catch their quarry at Lepanto.

      ‘I must return to my own galley,’ Michael said when their meeting had finished. He looked at his commander, noticing the shadows beneath his eyes. It seemed to him that Lorenzo had suffered some sleepless nights and he wondered what had caused them, for he knew that Lorenzo did not fear battle. However, he was wise enough not to mention it. ‘God be with you, my friend.

      ‘And with you,’ Lorenzo replied. ‘God protect us all if it comes to a battle.’

      It was the first time he had ever replied in that way. There was a difference in Lorenzo. Michael had noticed it more often of late, though as yet he was uncertain as to what it meant.

      Lorenzo woke from the dream with the images still fresh in his mind. At first he had been in a house—in a room. It was a room he knew well and filled with things he admired, in particular a banner of gold and a suit of black armour.

      He had not dreamed of the house before. Always his dream was of a beach and a youth struggling against the men who finally succeeded in capturing him. Yet perhaps that particular dream was real. Perhaps it was a memory of the day he had been taken. If that were so, then all the other things he half-remembered might also be true.

      Shaking his head to clear away the lingering thoughts, he left his cabin to join the men. It was a calm clear night and the news had come earlier that day. Their information had proved true. The enemy was at Lepanto, and it was said that they were in some difficulty. There were stories of plague aboard their ships and large numbers of dead, which had left them short of slaves at the oars. If this too was true, it would give the League the advantage they needed against the superior numbers of the Turks.

      Lorenzo was eager for the battle to begin. Like all those who lived and sailed under the banner of Venice, he was angry at the way the enemy had attacked and pillaged Cyprus, but more than this was his desire to have an end to this conflict. Only then would he be free to return to Kathryn.

      Kathryn awoke, got up and went over to look out of the window of her bedchamber. It was a beautiful sunny day, the sky a perfect cloudless blue. She had promised to spend it with her friends, and she knew it would be a pleasant day. The only cloud on her horizon was the lack of news from Lorenzo.

      He had warned her not expect any messages from him. ‘We shall be moving constantly,’ he had told her, ‘and there will be no way of sending you letters, my love—but you will know that you are always in my heart.’

      Kathryn wondered if he was thinking of her now. She had dreamed of him, but the dream had been the old one, where she was swept away from him by an unstoppable tide of water, and she did not want to remember it.

      If only she knew what he was doing, and if he was safe! If anything should happen to him now…but she would not let herself dwell on such things. Lorenzo had promised to come back to her and she would hold fast to that thought.

      Lorenzo was in command of his own fleet. It was his condition for joining the League and it gave him the freedom to manoeuvre as he would. He had decided to stay close to Don John’s personal ships, for he believed the overall commander to be not only a man of sense, but also a brilliant strategist.

      On most of the galleys the men were chained to their oars, lashed by the bosun’s whip to make them work. Lorenzo’s men were free to choose. They had been trained to obey his orders to the letter, and though they could be punished for disobedience, they were more likely to be rewarded for bravery. Any prizes they took would be sold and divided amongst them.

      A mass had been held throughout the fleet and everyone accepted that the battle was near. The Turkish fleet had been sighted and the nearest guess they had was that there were some three hundred vessels, the majority of them fighting galleys.

      ‘They are spread out across the gulf,’ Lorenzo said to Michael just before he returned to his own galley that morning. ‘It will be a hard-won fight, my friend.’

      ‘But we shall prevail!’

      ‘If we have faith in our own ability.’

      ‘Listen to that!’ Michael said as the sound of strange music floated across the sea from the enemy ships.

      By contrast, the combined fleet of the League was silent. The atmosphere was intense, dedicated, as if every man was prepared to die for the cause.

      ‘Go to your men,’ Lorenzo said his expression set. ‘This day shall be remembered for all time.’

      They were closing on the enemy now. The decks of the Turkish galleys were packed with men in rich clothes and wearing jewels; they were Janissaries and served the Sultan. Amongst them crouched the archers, their deadly weapons poised and ready to inflict the maximum harm.

      The League was heavily outnumbered and no one knew better than Lorenzo what fierce fighters the Turks were. Amongst them, he did not doubt, were the ships of his enemy Rachid.

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