The night was not over.
And he had in mind the Governor of Nicosia.
And not only the acts of barbarity.
Because he knew that he resisted for two months the invasion of barbarity.
Also he could not forget the work.
Because his death did not erase everything.
He was not like those who remembered from the Byzantium only the end, the fall.
He had within him the eleven centuries.
And the greatest Empire in time was an example for those living with strategy.
Even if it was with the cross in hand.
Also he could not forget that the head of Niccolò Dandolo continued its work and after the end.
Since even dead it did not affect neither Bragadin nor Baghioni.
It may have been shattered by the Ottomans it did not change anything.
They were buried in Famagusta with all honors.
Because this head had resisted to the end.
No one had forgotten the siege of Constantinople and crucified knights, neither the counter attack with the heads and the cannons.
Slowly the sunset seemed to be running out to change the time.
The barbarity could not remain prevalent.
Malta which was so small hadn’t left any margin.
Drove it away with its tail beneath its legs.
Without possibility of return.
And here in Venice it yet took long .
He looked at the stars.
They were pointing already the course he had to follow to be on the side of the besieged who withstood already for many months .
He imagined them as the stars in the dark night with their Governor as a lighthouse.
He was already waiting.
And they were late.
But he would see him alive.