Harold Lamb

“ He looked out moodily at the forests of galley masts and emptied his flagon of wine.
“Being idlers, good Bembo, an enterprise must come to us. Go you into the city and learn if this venture is to be had—one wherein we may sharpen our wits and laugh mightily.”
Bembo went. It was evening when he returned.
“So you have come back to me?” remarked Michael. “Are you not afraid of poverty and the dagger of Rudolfo? Bembo, if you had favor with a magician, what would you wish to be?” ”

“ Michael shook his dark head gravely. “Hark me, man; never will you behold such a voyager as Ruy Clavijo again. We will look no further, wait no longer. The wind is up, my fool, and we will sail with the tide. No quest could be more suited to our hearts than this.”
He caught up his cloak, hat and sword and bowed ceremoniously to the jester.
“Behold, the new master mariner of Messer Clavijo and his party. I go to the council, or, better, to Contarini, for my commission.”
Hereupon Bembo scratched his head and cast a tentative glance at the water jar. ”

“ Michael flung himself into his chair and clapped Bembo on the knee.
“’Twas not wine that stirred my brain, Bembo. Knowing Clavijo, I had a grave fear that he would lead his expedition anywhere but to the terra incognita. Knowing Rudolfo, I am assured that the venture will verily seek spoil. And since our worthy friends would fain despoil the Cham, why, you and I must go with them. Because, forsooth, the Cham is of all men the man I most desire to clap eyes upon.” ”