The Nature of Blood (14 page)

After some fruitless hours spent tossing first one way and then the next, I
arose before dawn realizing that, again, I needed to walk about this city
in the moonlight, both to reorder my thoughts and to put into place my feelings.
It had ceased snowing, but it remained bitterly cold as I set out towards
the north of the city, crossing small bridges and passing stealthily through
dark alleyways. The chief problem, of course, was the lady on my mind. And,
like a child, I wondered if I were on hers. That we barely exchanged a word
seemed to have added to the mystique of this person whom I could not dislodge
from my senses. I concluded that she was, without doubt, the most beautiful
treasure of Venice. Never had I before witnessed such an effortless tranquillity,
a superior air of breeding both aristocratic and modest, and a strength of
personality that was at once confident and gently reassuring. When this lady
moved, it was as though the universe moved with her, and what light there
was in the room was wholly swallowed up by her eyes. I felt as though, against
my will, some part of my soul had been captured.

I stopped at the entrance to a small street which led into a square. I could
see that at the end of the street there were gates, and marshalling the gates
two guards. It occurred to me that this was the district about which my merchant
had spoken, the place where the moneylenders resided, and never having entered
this quarter, I was keen to satisfy my curiosity while everybody slept. The
two Christian guards were naturally suspicious about my approaching them,
but seeing that I was clearly not one of their own, and that I did not seem
intent upon harming any Jew, they unbolted the gates and, after I had bestowed
upon them a small token of my gratitude, they let me pass. And what a strange
place was this walled ghetto. Apparently, most of the Jews did not regard
this arrangement of being locked behind gates from sunset to sunrise as a
hardship, for it afforded them protection against the many cold hearts that
opposed their people. On Sundays and on Christian holy days, the Jews were
imprisoned for the full length of the day, and they were obliged both to appoint
and to pay these Christian guards themselves. In addition, they were required
to pay two boats to patrol unceasingly the canals surrounding the ghetto,
the outer walls of which were to be windowless. The Jews paid dearly to live
and do commerce at the heart of the Venetian empire, rather than in the provinces,
and penalties for offending the morals of the people of Venice were severe.
Intimacy between Jewish men and Christian women was punishable by a heavy
fine and up to twelve months' imprisonment, depending upon whether the woman
was a public prostitute. In addition, Jews were forbidden to run schools or
teach Christians in any subject, and any Jew found outside the ghetto at night
was likely to be heavily fined and imprisoned. Some frightened Jews argued
that the ghetto, far from affording them protection, made it easier for popular
outbursts against them to achieve some focus, for the Jews were herded
en
masse
and enclosed in one defenceless pen.

As I began to explore, I noticed that the streets were recklessly narrow and
ill-arranged, and on either side of them immensely tall and well-appointed
houses sat next to equally tall hovels. In this ghetto, the rich and the destitute
lived together, the denizens bound only by their faith. Nothing stirred, and
I felt as though I were wandering about a village that had been quickly abandoned
in a time of plague. Not a single article of clothing hung from a window,
and not a single window was ajar to allow a little breeze to penetrate. I
longed to catch a glimpse of one of their beautiful black-eyed women, but
the inhabitants of this region appeared to be sleeping peacefully. I neither
heard the raised voice of a call to prayer, nor did I spy the night-time wandering
of an exotic such as myself. Everything remained calm, and it appeared that
these Jews obeyed the rhythms of day and night with a slavish adherence. I
walked for some time through the maze of little streets and noticed the complete
absence of shrines, madonnas, carved crosses, or images of saints. All outward
signs of devotion were absent in this dark place, which led me to conclude
that religious imagery of any kind probably constituted a particular sin for
these people. I continued to wander, but the further I entered the ghetto,
the filthier the alleyways became, and the more oppressive these tall hovels
appeared, with damp staining the walls, and in certain places causing the
plaster to erupt in a manner similar to boils. These towers of poverty seemed
to be reaching desperately for a little light or air above a darkness and
filth which seemed more befitting of an earlier age of squalor. At precisely
the moment when I was beginning to feel hopelessly lost, I emerged into a
small square, in one corner of which were buildings of more human proportions.
At the far end of the square, and at the end of a reasonably well-paved and
brightly illuminated street, I spied the gates through which I had entered
this underworld. My exploration had unnerved me somewhat, for it was well
known that the Jews were fortunate in their wealth. Why they should choose
to live in this manner defeated my understanding. Surely there was some other
land or some other people among whom they might dwell in more tolerable conditions?

Once back at my lodgings, I stood outside and stared as the sun began her morning's
labour up the steep slope of the sky. Then I listened as the tuneful lament
of a flute rose from a half-deserted street behind me, and I breathed a long
sigh of relief. With some great difficulty I had managed to navigate my way
from the gates of the ghetto and back into a world that I recognized. It was
only when I stumbled upon the Grand Canal that my heart finally regained a
normal beat. Indeed, it appeared somewhat shameful to me that a man who had
endured many wars and faced much danger should panic on finding himself in
unfamiliar streets in an admittedly civilized environment. But it was Venice
herself which induced this frenzy in me, for her streets led carelessly one
into the other, stubbornly refusing to reveal any clue as to where they might
ultimately terminate. And then, once back in the region of my lodgings, I
was suddenly seized with a desire to witness the start of the day. However,
I was soon shaken from my contemplation of the sun's labours by the sight
of my attendant emerging from my own door and looking upon me disapprovingly.
At first I wondered if my nightly wanderings had upset him, for I could imagine
nothing else that might have caused him to feel any new antipathy towards
me. It was then that I noticed the letter that he was clutching. He passed
it to me and, as was his custom, he chose not to utter a single word. He turned
theatrically and re-entered the house, leaving me to contemplate the letter
alone. Having failed to recognize the handwriting on the outside, I decided
to open it and discover for myself its contents. I was shocked to find that
she who had been constantly on my mind had also been moved by our meeting,
but, unlike myself, she had taken the initiative and set pen to paper. As
decorum demanded, she revealed little of her heart, and simply requested that
I visit with her later that same day in her father's garden. According to
this lady, I was to enter a gondola that would appear at a determined hour,
with a white handkerchief displayed at one of the windows.

I carefully folded the letter and tried to imagine how I might occupy the anxious
hours before my appointment in the garden, for the whole day stretched before
me, long and troublesome. I decided to manufacture a list of tasks to which
I might address myself in an attempt to stave off the worries and concerns
populating my thoughts. However, I soon realized that it would be politic
to address those unmanufactured tasks which might genuinely profit from my
giving them due attention. To this end I composed, then dispatched, a letter
to the doge himself, asking when I might be pressed into service against the
infidel. I had sent an earlier communication, but had not been blessed with
a reply. However, I reasoned that it could not harm my cause to ask once more.
After all, I had been summoned to Venice, and was being paid handsomely to
be a soldier and a leader of men. Idling away my Venetian days did not represent
a good return on their investment. The problems of phrasing a letter and pressing
my case, while at the same time making it clear that I wished to cause no
offence, did indeed occupy a great portion of the day. However, in the early
afternoon, as I stepped into the gondola that would transport me back towards
the senator's house, I realized that the difficulties of grappling with phraseology
had failed to soothe the anxieties which were now beginning to overwhelm me.
I looked down at the water and began to shake in anticipation of the forthcoming
meeting. What strange ideas must be populating this lady's mind to take a
chance and write such a letter.

I was admitted by the same elderly manservant who had received me only the
previous evening, but this time he escorted me out of the back of the house
and towards the garden, where the lady was waiting to converse with me. She
was exquisitely dressed, and attended by a maidservant who discreetly placed
herself at a short distance from us. However, she remained close enough so
that she might observe, and indeed overhear if so she desired, but in order
that she might appear less conspicuous she began to busy herself with embroidery.
We two situated ourselves beneath a tree whose branches provided umbrella-like
cover, and the lady declared that she wished to know principally of my adventures
as a soldier and of the many dangers to which my life had been subjected.
She listened intently, and I spun some truthful tales, but eventually I announced
that I wished to learn from her about Venetian society, for I remained unclear
about much of the world in which I was living. What were the common customs,
the uncommon customs, the various ways in which people lived their lives?
Truly, what might I expect? I fired off a volley of questions and she answered
each in turn, carefully weighing her thoughts before venturing to speak. On
some topics her answers were admirably brief and helpful, but on others she
felt it necessary to expand more fully. In one case, she warned me against
unnecessary roaming late at night for there were in Venice villains, known
as
braves,
who, armed with a coat of mail, a gauntlet upon their right
hand and a short dagger, were known to lurk by the waterside and attack passing
strangers. Once they had stabbed their victims, and taken what booty they
could extract, they would conclude the proceedings by dumping the body into
the water, but apparently these days there were fewer of these villains, for
the punishment for discovery was execution. Furthermore, many honest men in
Venice had taken to carrying about their person a well-pocketed knife to protect
their lives, and these
braves
were known to fear a fair battle. Having
listened to my lady, I assured her of my ability to enter into successful
combat with any, which in turn led her back to her familiar theme of my exploits
on the field of battle.

Time passed swiftly, and eventually the lady's maidservant laid to one side
her embroidery and climbed to her feet, which was clearly a signal that it
was time for me to leave. The lady stood, as did I, and for the first time
our eyes held. I had, until this moment, been careful to avoid full eye contact
with my hostess, but, as we looked at each other, I knew that the stirring
in my heart had deepened and I was suddenly overcome with joy. She chose to
prolong the gaze and then, with what I imagined to be reluctance, she finally
lowered her eyes. The lady announced that she had greatly enjoyed our discourse
and, with that said, she quickly retreated and disappeared from my view. I
looked all about me and I wondered what I should do, for the elderly manservant
had not yet appeared to escort me back to the gondola. However, I need not
have panicked, for as soon as I resumed my seat the flustered manservant shuffled
into view, seemingly embarrassed that he had mistimed his cue.

That night I lay in bed and cast my mind back to the wife and child that I had left behind in my native country. I did not think of myself as having spurned them, for they were in my heart and would evermore remain there. As was the custom with a warrior, there had been no formal marriage, it being understood that at any moment I might lose my life. (It was never understood that at any moment I might also lose my heart.) My son would forgive me, for in a few years he, too, would be a man and follow in his father's footsteps. But I feared that my wife would fail to understand my present predicament, and her judgement of my character would prove to be harsh. I sat upright in bed and listened to the quiet lapping of the water below. I wondered how often they thought of me. I wondered if, as they lay at night, the moon rising late through sirocco-driven veils of mist, the warm wind caressing their skin – I wondered if, in their minds, they still held a picture of me. And if they did indeed think of me, were their thoughts always hostile, or were there occasions when I entered their souls in a benign fashion? Did it ever occur to them that I might already have made the easy passage from this world to the next and been taken up by death? But perhaps I had no right to expect anything from them. Why should they trouble their minds with me?

In the morning I awoke to the familiar sound of chiming bells, which were soon
rendered discordant by the sight of my attendant entering my room with a look
of some distaste etched across his face. In his hand he held a small parcel,
which he delivered to my bed with thinly disguised hostility. It had already
occurred to me that I might have to replace this man, and his present performance
served only to confirm my feelings. I saw no reason why I should continue
to tolerate such petulant displays of bad manners from this gondolier's son.
That he disliked me on account of my complexion and bearing, I had no doubt,
but should this failed soldier wish to serve another, then I had resolved
that I would not stand in his way. I watched as he drew back the curtains,
after which he strolled from the room in an unhurried manner. Turning my attention
to the parcel, I was surprised to note that there was a second communication
which I soon discovered to be a letter bearing the seal of the doge. Putting
the parcel to one side, I quickly opened the doge's letter and learnt that
I was summoned to meet him that very morning, and that I should expect a gondola
before the church bells struck nine. My heart quickened on receiving this
news, for I presumed that this could mean only that war was drawing closer.
I then turned my attention towards the contents of the parcel. It was, as
I imagined, from the lady, but upon opening it I was astonished to discover
a gold bracelet that was heavily wrought but delicate in design. A short note,
signed in her own hand, thanked me for sharing with her my tales. I took the
bracelet and fastened it about my wrist, deterrnining, even at that moment,
that I should never again remove it.