Yusuf’s mother made him deliver the judgement, because Marco did not understand their tongue and she did not speak Ligurian fluently enough to set the tone that she wanted, which was one of her gracious choice to pardon the foreign barbarians who had intruded upon her lands and laid hands upon her beloved son-in-law. So she sat on her throne and looked down upon them, while Yusuf stood beside her and proclaimed her judgement, first in Arabic for the court, and then in Ligurian for the men being judged. Nicolò stood off to the side a little, near the screen that Noor and some of the other women were decorously sitting behind.

“…and understand,” Yusuf finished, “that if another injury such as this is attempted against our family, it will be answered much more harshly.”

“Tell Father,” Nicolò added, entirely out of turn, “that if he sends you or anybody else to drag me back to Genova I will send him back their heads.” He paused. “I know that is the sort of message he understands.”

Marco blanched. Yusuf’s mother said, in Arabic, “I think we have some very fine boxes in just the right size.” That set off a round of whispering among the rest of the hall.

“Really?” Yusuf said to Nicolò out of the corner of his mouth, aware that they stood before the court but also aware that Noor was probably taking notes, and all things considered, Yusuf would prefer she wasn’t persuaded of the moral acceptability of fratricide.

“Your husband is softer than you,” said Marco to Nicolò, the first thing he had said all evening. “He didn’t like that.”

“I am thinking of the poor couriers we would have to send to Genova,” Yusuf said, blandly. “Imagine the smell by the time they got there.”

“You are happy here,” Marco said, still to Nicolò. His tone had shifted; he sounded genuinely bewildered. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, brother,” said Nicolò. “As I have told you fifteen times today already.”

For some reason, that was when all the defiance leaked out of Marco. “All right; all right.”

“Safe travels, brother,” said Nicolò, and he and his men were led away.

*

“You might never see them again,” Yusuf said to Nicolò that evening. “Your family.”

“I had already made that choice,” he said. “Well, to not see them often, if at all. And my sisters are all married away from Genova anyway. And – it is not a burden like that, my heart.”

That was the first time he’d used an endearment towards Yusuf; Yusuf could not help the way he smiled at it, and did not care to help it, anyway. “What about your mother? You’ve never mentioned her.”

“She isn’t like your mother,” said Nicolò. “She chooses not to hear things that are distasteful to her. Sometimes I wonder she hears anything my father says at all.” He shrugged. “But, who knows? Maybe one day.”

“I’m glad you like it here,” said Yusuf. “It would be very uncomfortable if you did not.”

“I would have rescued myself, if I did not,” said Nicolò with complete equanimity, which was why he and Yusuf’s mother got on so well.

“Well,” said Yusuf. “We‘ll just have to find a Venetian who likes it here for Noor, too. I’m sure you can help with that.”

“Oh, your mother is still bent on that?”

“She says now we certainly need a better naval alliance,” said Yusuf.

“I will help if I can,” Nicolò said, and smiled at Yusuf, and really, Yusuf thought: what better choice could he have possibly made, that night?

“I know you will, beloved,” he said, and Nicolò smiled as bright as moonlight on the waters of the bay.

________

okay NOW we’re done