The Nature of Blood (15 page)

I dressed with some haste and made my way to the Doge's Palace, taking little
trouble to look about me and observe the world, as was my normal practice.
Once there, it was clear that I was expected, for I was quickly delivered
into an unfamiliar waiting chamber, whose walls were draped with hangings
of the finest tapestry, and I was attended to in a manner which seemed to
reflect my status as General of the Venetian army. The grandeur of the huge
windows, and the wide stream of light that flooded the room, lent a powerfully
sombre tone to the setting. The ornamentation must have cost many thousands
of ducats, for at one end stood a fireplace of carved marble, lavishly decorated
with figures and foliage, and above my head the ceiling was decorated with
gold fixtures. Eventually I was ushered along a thickly carpeted corridor
and into the presence of the doge, an elderly man, who, I soon remembered,
appeared to be a trifle hard of hearing. He stood before a large rectangular
mirror which boasted an elaborate bejewelled frame, and he seemed pleased
to see me. I noticed that he was attended to by a half-dozen senior senators,
including he who had recently occupied himself as my host for dinner. I quickly
scrutinized my host's face for any sign of displeasure, but, being able to
spy none, my body let out what I feared might have been an audible sigh of
relief.

The proceedings of the meeting were simple. The Turks, so intelligence had
informed the doge, having already reddened their scimitars with much Christian
blood, were now planning to attack the Venetian island of Cyprus. My commission
was to revisit an island with which I was already familiar, this time at the
head of the Venetian army, and to subdue the infidel usurper who was forever
laying claim to this perilously situated outpost of Christian civilization.
I was to set sail before the end of the week, and, upon my departure, I would
meet those good men who would follow me into battle. Until then, I was free
to prepare myself in whatever manner was customary for men of my region. The
doge and his senators enquired as to whether there was any issue I wished
to raise. I declined, but not without some alarm, for I suddenly realized
that my head was full of thoughts pertaining to the lady, and there were indeed
questions I wished to ask, though none were related to matters of war. I looked
somewhat useless for a moment, then regained my voice and assured these noblemen
that I was happy that this time had finally arrived. Further, I assured them
that I would not disappoint, and they seemed pleased with my confidence, for
they looked upon me with respect as I bade them farewell.

The same gondolier was waiting for me when I stepped out from the palace and
into the winter gloom. Clearly, the gondolier was under instruction to serve
as my escort for the journey back to my lodgings, but, in the manner of these
people, he said nothing and simply gestured with his head in the direction
of his vessel. I bade him be patient a while as I wished to exercise my legs
in the piazza at St Mark's and observe the winged creatures who sat in long
rows, their necks drawn into their shoulders, their neck feathers bunched
clumsily about their heads. The good news that I had been waiting for with
great patience now appeared to be disconcerting, for it would inevitably mean
a period of separation from the senator's daughter. And what of the lady herself?
Would she think it forward of me to write and suggest another clandestine
rendezvous? Or would it be more politic to allow her to initiate any further
meetings? As these thoughts tumbled in my mind, bells of all personalities
and temper began to chime, and the birds took to the air with a sudden rush
of wings.

I sought out my gondolier and soon settled back in my seat, where I listened
to the backwash of the canal beating against the hull, and the comforting
drop of water as it fell from the oar. Some moments later, I was shaken from
my reverie by a flare of light reflecting off a pile of fish that lay on the
bottom of a moored boat. I glanced about me and realized that presently we
would soon be upon the very house where the lady resided. Upon instinct I
looked up to the direction of the balcony, then called to my gondolier and
asked after him if he could sing. He looked at me, but said nothing. In fact,
he seemed to increase his pace, but, just at the point when I was ready to
remind him that I had made an enquiry of him, he began to steer his vessel
towards the very house and to raise his voice in a pleasing tune. And then
she appeared, dressed from head to toe in silk, the wind playing gently with
her garments. I held up my hand in greeting, but partly in order that she
might also see the gold bracelet which I proudly sported about my wrist. The
gondolier continued to sing, and people passed by on either side of the canal,
clearly fascinated by the scene being played out before them. I was, I admit,
flattered by the attention of this lady, for it seemed to my mind peculiar
that one such as I might win the affection of so beautiful a creature. And
still my gondolier continued to sing, and I gazed up at her, then a flower
was tossed down from the balcony. A single winter rose floated in the water.
And then the lady disappeared from the balcony. At that moment, and at that
moment precisely, as the circular ripples radiated out from the rose, I resolved
to make the senator's daughter my bride, whatever the consequences.

I instructed my gondolier to steer towards the bank and moor his vessel by
the steps to the lady's house. He looked at me as though I had taken leave
of my senses, but he said nothing. As we set a course for the steps, I managed
to pluck the rose from the water and I held it up to dry. It appeared that
I was already expected, for the by now familiar manservant opened the weather-beaten
door and, without saying a word, escorted me through the house and into the
back garden, where I understood I was to remain and await the arrival of my
mistress. However, before the elderly manservant had time to depart, the lady
entered in company with her maidservant. She smiled, then sat before me in
all her resplendent beauty, while she that watched over her retired a short
distance. I, too, sat and we began to speak at the same time, but realized
our error and laughed. And then I apologized for my uninvited intrusion, and
explained that on seeing the vision of her on the balcony I could not help
myself. She blushed somewhat, but I continued and said that perhaps she might
speak with me a little, if it were convenient, for I felt a trifle guilty
that, at our last meeting, I had dominated affairs. She seemed shocked and
insisted that this was not the case, but then enquired as to whether there
was any subject in particular about which I wished to converse. I thought
for a moment, then asked her about sorcery and magic in Venice, for I had
noticed that Venetians seemed to be devout Christians and free of such associations.

In the course of the next hour, the good lady corrected my mistaken assumption
and related to me many instances of superstition, some of which I knew to
be true of people in other lands. For instance, to a Venetian the number thirteen,
the number of Judas, is always unlucky. Further, one must carefully avoid
spilling salt, and if one turns money in one's pocket at the first quarter
of the moon, then it will increase during that month. (Apparently, it is also
understood that hair grows and falls with the waxing and waning of this same
celestial object.) I learnt that, in Venice, certain days have significance,
so that on New Year's Day, to meet a humpback is a sign of good fortune, but
to meet a lame person is one of misfortune. Sadly, to meet a priest means
that death will occur within the year. On the Epiphany, the Venetian beasts
talk to each other, but on this day only. And the dew on St John's Eve is
precious and must be treasured. I spent the greater part of the hour listening
to this lady's wondrous voice before the manservant reappeared and whispered
to the maid, whose eyes betrayed severe agitation. The lady stood, clearly
fearing discovery, and suddenly our meeting was at an end. She quickly announced
that, with regret, she would have to leave. With this said, she hurried from
the garden, leaving the manservant to escort me from the house.

On reaching my own lodgings, I took a seat on my balcony where, for some hours,
I silently contemplated the bold nature of my unannounced visit, and worried
whether my presumption would now be rewarded by rejection. Then, before I
realized what was happening, the short winter's day expired and it was dusk.
Below me I could see a variety of evening boats gliding by. Each had its own
lantern which gleamed and played upon the water, the swifter gondolas creating
dazzling tracks of light in their wake as they made their way along this grandest
of canals. As night fell, my solitude was interrupted by my attendant. He
presented me with a newly delivered letter which, once he had retired, I quickly
opened. Unfortunately, the writing was close and difficult to read, as clearly
it had been written in great haste. Because I knew it to be from the lady
who had captured my heart, I could not bring myself to ask my untrustworthy
attendant to aid me in the deciphering of the characters. What remained of
the evening passed somewhat painfully as I looked and looked again at the
letter, but it defeated me comprehensively. I retired to bed in torment, thoroughly
frustrated by my inability to interpret the lady's script.

I arose at dawn and dressed quickly, for during the night I had determined
a method by which I might be able to gain some understanding of the letter
that lay open beside my bed. I walked quickly through the winter fog towards
the north of the city, pausing only to marvel at the fact that the greater
part of the world appeared to be hidden behind an opaque shroud. I soon found
myself outside the gates to the ghetto, and I noticed that the Christian guards
were the same fellows that I had seen on my previous visit. They seemed surprised,
but not unhappy, to see me again. I offered them some coins and was allowed
to pass inside, whereupon I began to search for a man who might help me. Ghostly
figures were already stirring in the streets, but they moved quickly, as though
frightened of holding their shape. I had determined that a scholar of some
description would be best equipped for the role that I envisaged. Therefore,
having finally located their place of worship in a small and unusually well-kept
square, I quickly entered. Once inside, I encountered a weather-beaten, warp-faced
Jew toiling over a book in the semi-darkness. He was sitting in the room in
which I imagined they celebrated their unchristian service. An elegant and
richly decorated place, it was furnished with a gallery which boasted the
most impressive carvings. I offered up the letter to the Jew and he immediately
understood what I expected of him. While he scanned the letter, he gestured
to me that I should sit. Then, having examined it, he looked up at me. He
did not betray any emotion, but simply began to recite to me the contents
of the letter. As he began, I almost asked him to stop in order that I might
press upon him the knowledge that I could read, and inform him that it was
only this dense and unclear script that had defeated me. But it was too late.
Once he had begun, I was intoxicated. The lady stopped short of professing
a love for me, but her desire to see me again, and as soon as possible, was
clearly articulated.

The scholar handed back the unfolded letter. I paid him, adding some extra
for the good news he conveyed, and our transaction was complete. It was then,
after a moment's thought, that I asked if I might dictate to him a letter
of reply set down in his finest hand, but he had already anticipated my request.
The Jew looked at me with pen poised. I was simple and direct in my affections,
but the boldness of the lady's letter encouraged me far beyond what I might
otherwise have dared to reveal. My passion for her I laid out openly, holding
back only when it seemed necessary to do so for the sake of the modesty of
he who was writing. And then, my letter complete, I asked my Jew if he would
be good enough to convey it to the lady in question, but again he seemed to
have already understood. The good scholar refused to take extra money for
this task, and I judged by the way he looked upon me that he felt a certain
sympathy for my predicament. Indeed, as I left, I am sure that I noticed a
smile play around his thin lips.

Early the following morning, my attendant entered my room and rescued me from
an unsuccessful night, during which I had remained painfully alert. For twenty-four
hours the lady had captured the centre of my mind, creating a tortuous inertia
that had rendered me incapable of any practical action. I was in no doubt
that she loved me, but I knew not how to marry my life of action to any other
life. Indeed, I was already beginning to fear that, should I take a chance
and pursue a marriage with this young lady, immediately upon doing so my reputation
as a leader of the first rank would inevitably suffer. After all, since the
age of seven I had known only the power that comes through confident usage
of the arm in the heat of battle. Despite my royal blood, the remote language
of love had remained alien to me, for I had always refused to coat my tongue
with its false words. My attendant stood before me and he repeated himself
with impatience, once more informing me that the lady was waiting outside.
Only now did I understand why this infuriating man had decided to interrupt
my afflicted thoughts. My letter would have reached her hands, and rather
than dispatch her answer she must have decided to come herself and give to
me the news that my heart wished to hear. I dressed quickly, looking many
times upon myself in the mirror. I was no longer young enough to pretend that
I was an appealing specimen of manhood, but I remained confident that I could
hold my own with any in the ring of combat. The curly-blonde-headed darlings
of Venice drew to themselves cunning glances from the fair ladies of the republic
in quantities that I could only dream of achieving, but my complexion was
a feature that was unlikely to aid me in my attempts to attract admiration.
Once more, I looked upon myself in the mirror. It was true. The wooing of
this lady did indeed threaten the very foundations upon which my life was
constructed, but surely it was the coward's way to remain in secure military
bachelorhood and learn nothing more of the world beyond my own life. I abandoned
the mirror and made my way towards the door.