Caryl Phillips - The Nature of Blood

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.

She stood with her back to me, but turned when she heard me approaching. My attendant glowered in my direction, then informed me that I was to present myself within the hour at the Doge's Palace. With this said, the sour man left our presence and I simply stared at the lady. The morning light stealthily picked the blush from her cheeks, showing off her youth to its best advantage. The lady informed me that early yesterday evening she had received my letter, but once she had studied its contents, she had found sleep difficult to achieve. She had sought an audience with me so that we might converse, but even as she completed her reasoning, she apologized for the inconvenience which she was sure this intrusion was causing me. For a moment I looked at her, transfixed by her beauty, then I broke the spell and stared down at the canal beneath us, where water lapped softly against wood and stone. And then the words appeared in my mouth and tumbled out awkwardly. Without planning, I asked her if she might consider becoming my bride. To my great surprise, the child fell immediately to her knees and clasped her hands together in front of her bowed head. It was then that she told me that her greatest wish was that I should become her lord and master, and protect and honour her for the remainder of her days. With this said, I reached down and encouraged her to look up. Then I fell to one knee and sealed our union with the tenderest of kisses. Was I truly the same man who had arrived lonely and unannounced? The same man who had sailed in a state of spellbound wonder right into the heart of this city-state? The same man who had entertained a willing but subtle Venetian whore at the suggestion of my first 'master', even though I derived little pleasure from my actions? The same man who had initially struggled with the language, and who had, at times, wondered if he would ever settle among these strange and forbidding people? And now to be married, and to the heart of the society. I wondered how such a change could be wrought in a man's life, and in so short a period.

Our strategy required us to act with both secrecy and haste. That same evening, my lady would steal away from her father's house and, under cover of night, meet me in a monastery where improvised ceremonies were known to be performed habitually. We deemed it politic not to share our intentions with any others, for we imagined the objections would be many, and the obstacles placed in our path, high and perhaps insurmountable. Furthermore, the urgent details of war, as the Turk continued to threaten, were fast consuming the affairs of state and we did not wish for our decision to be in any way affected by such matters. Clearly, I had been instructed to report to the Doge's Palace for additional information regarding this Turkish peril, but I was loathe to leave my lady, and she me. We held hands tightly and resolved to meet again at dusk However, before we bade each other a temporary adieu, we kissed once more, but this time with fervour.