Caryl Phillips - The Nature of Blood

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.

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.