Caryl Phillips - The Nature of Blood

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.