Caryl Phillips - The Nature of Blood

Upon reaching the Doge's Palace, I was informed that the situation with the warlike Turk had indeed become critical. Intelligence had briefed the state that they were sailing towards Rhodes, but it was generally understood that their preferred destination was Cyprus. In addition to my position at the head of their army, the doge and his senators ordered me to assume command as Governor once I had secured Cyprus. They reminded me of the importance of this Venetian posting, implying that a great deal of faith had been placed in my abilities, for I would be replacing one of their own Venetian favourites, who, although competent, could not boast of my skills and experience. I was instructed by the doge to return to my place of abode and await the alarm. The next signal would be to advise me that I should immediately greet my army and depart for Cyprus. I thanked the doge, and his senators, and bowed low as I withdrew. As I did so, I thought to myself, I remain their General, and in a short while I will still be their General, save only for an increase in my happiness. I silently hoped for their understanding.

The late-afternoon light was feeble and it cast upon the wintry city an aspect of melancholic calm. The gondolier carried me swiftly, but silently, through the narrow back canals, where this great city appeared sluttish beneath her regal garb. I noticed a shabby row of balconies decorated with garbage and discarded furniture, beneath which flights of slimy steps led down from the now familiar battered doorways. The canal about this place smelt putrid, and I clasped a handkerchief to my nose and mouth. I had spent the latter part of the afternoon in great contemplation, much of it concerning my wife and son who remained in my native land. The word wife still gave rise to much private concern, but I tried to flush this anxiety from my mind. I continually reminded myself that my native wife was not a wife in the manner that a Venetian might understand the term, yet I wondered if this were not simply a convenience of interpretation on my part. The problem of whether I would ever return to my country, and my worries about how my new wife might be treated by my people were this to happen, distressed me greatly. As the afternoon drifted towards evening, I slowly discovered myself coming to terms with the fact that I might never again see the country of my birth. This proposed marriage did indeed mark me off from my past, and Venice, the birthplace of my wife, was a city that I might now have to consider home for what remained of my life. None of this had I hitherto seriously considered, and my winter's journey towards the monastery began to take on an aspect of finality that lowered my spirits.

The pale moon was illuminating the lagoon as the gondolier stopped in front of the small monastery. The bizarre and macabre light appeared to me a strange warning that I should quickly conclude the business of this day. I wondered if it were possible that, to this woman, a marriage to me was a mere Venetian whim that would soon be forgiven by her family. The stain of my smoky hand on her marble skin, a mark that might be washed clean in the milky basin of family love. I dared not dwell on these thoughts for too long. I looked up and realized that my bride-to-be was already present, for I could see her maidservant standing anxiously by the door to the monastery. She need not have feared. I have always been a man of honour. I disembarked and mounted the thirty or so stone steps which led from the sea, and I entered the gloomy building. As I made my way to the side of my lady, I could see that she looked exquisite in her silken dress, with her shoulders bare, and her long hair threaded with gold in the traditional manner. However, on closer inspection I noticed that her brow was furrowed with lines of worry, and I felt guilty that my delay had induced this suffering in her. The Christian man who stood before us clearly wished to dismiss this unusual ceremony as swiftly as possible. He asked if I was indeed a Christian, although he knew this to be the case, for an unbeliever could never be entrusted with the command of the Venetian army. I spoke softly and informed him that my journey to the bosom of Christ had taken place many years before my arrival in Venice. With this hurdle cleared, little remained to cause us delay, and the ceremony proceeded apace and resulted in our soon being declared man and wife.

Some hours ago, my wife and I journeyed back to my lodgings, where I now wait for the alarm. It was a gloomy moonlit evening and, as our vessel proceeded, we were lightly powdered with snow. Only the clumsy plash of an oar as we eased beneath a bridge, or the echo of a heavy foot in a hidden alleyway, disturbed our silence. Once back at my lodgings, I dismissed my attendant for the evening and conducted my wife to my bedchamber. I had, during our silent voyage from the monastery, contemplated whether it would be proper to wait a while before taking up my rightful place with my wife, but I determined that the passion that we felt for each other should not be dammed up. She proved, as I had hoped, an eager, if somewhat naïve partner, but what she lacked in knowledge she made up for in the softness of her touch.

She now lies alone, her body illuminated by the weak light that leaks through the shutters of the tall window. She sleeps deeply, exhausted by our love-making, but also by the tension and duplicity of the past few days. I now possess an object of beauty and danger, and I know that, henceforth, all men will look upon me with a combination of respect and scorn. I also know that never again will I be fully trusted by those of my own world, both male and female, but some of this I have already anticipated. For she who has now lain with me, and before her God declared herself to be of me, this will be her first taste of a bitterness to which she may never accustom herself. That she is entirely disposable to those who profess to love her will never have occurred to her. If she remains loyal to me, there will be many new and difficult truths to which she will now be exposed. However, I believe my wife possesses a soul that is strong enough to withstand the heat of future battles.

Venice remains silent, and my mind continues to wrestle with difficult thoughts. I look again to the bed and gaze upon the sight of my wife's body. If only I were privy to her Venetian thoughts, I might begin to help her make sense of her new circumstances. And then, as night gives way to dawn, I hear the raised whisper of a messenger calling to my attendant that I should immediately depart for the Doge's Palace. Finally, the alarm. My wife stirs, and then turns to face me. Again the voice calls to my attendant with an order that he should immediately rouse me. My wife's face softens into a bleary smile and she asks if I must go. I tell her that I have to leave, but she should not worry for I will soon return. Once I have received my orders from the doge and his senators, I will once more hurry to her side. My wife smiles at me with both her mouth and her eyes.

THE Venetian trial against the Jews of Portobuffole, to be heard before one hundred and fifty two Venetian senators, began on Tuesday 27 June 1480 and continued day after day, with only two interruptions: 29 June, which was the feast of the Saints Peter and Paul, and Sunday 2 July. The defendants were represented by two lawyers from Padua, who dressed in togas and were highly skilled in oratory. They quoted all of the passages from the scripture which affirmed that, for the Jews, nothing is more impure than blood — not just from animals, from whom the Jews drain the blood after slaughter, but even from their own women. How could they possibly have been able to feed themselves on blood? They reminded those present that Jews followed the Ten Commandments, which declared that it was forbidden to kill, and the prophet Moses also specifically forbade Jews to eat blood. And then, of course, there was the cumulative evidence of the Bible. For instance, in Leviticus, chapter seventeen, verse ten, it is written: 'I will set My face against that soul that eateth blood.' The injunction is repeated some four verses later: 'Ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh.' The lawyers rejected as mere rumour the idea that it was traditional for rich Jews to give poor Jews Christian blood without charge, and they concluded their presentation by suggesting that the confessions obtained, which 'proved' that these Jews had sucked out the blood of a Christian child, had been elicited by excessive use of that dreadful engine of torture, the strappada.