The Nature of Blood

by Caryl Phillips

  The senator's house was, as I remembered it, a grand and imposing structure. To my surprise, I experienced a sense of relaxation on once again viewing its elegant façade. As I scanned the full length of its brooding magnificence, I was struck by the sight of carefully arranged flowers about its balconies which, even at this late time of the year, cast down the perfumed odours of spring. Without saying a word, the gondolier drew the vessel to a standstill and looked down at me as though wondering why I had not already understood that this place was to mark the end of my journey. I had neglected to bring some coin to show my gratitude to this fellow, but his surly manner left me feeling that my omission was no cause for regret. Pulling myself up to full height, which easily dwarfed his own stature, I strode past him and stepped upon the lowest of the steps leading up to the roughly hewn door. Such a feature of this great city I was yet to understand fully. It bewildered me that the doors to even the finest palaces in the city were often constructed of the most weather-beaten wood, a wood clearly in need of treatment and attention. As I approached the door it opened before me, as if by magic, and I stepped boldly into the interior of this great home. Once inside, the door was rudely closed upon the waiting gondolier, which caused me to smile inwardly. I followed the elderly manservant up a dimly lit flight of stairs which had never seen the sun, and along a stone-walled corridor, at the end of which I could see bright lights and hear chattering voices and much joyous laughter. The noise and light burst upon me as I entered the room, and then there was silence as heads turned, and not a few jaws dropped. I am a big man, and I had already noted that a response of some sort upon my joining a room was invariable. In fact, I had come to expect this of my unarmed entrance into any circle. However, quickly rising to his feet and defying his advanced years, the senator moved towards me with his arm outstretched. He announced my name, although I was sure that those present had already been informed of my impending arrival. Clearly, I was to be the chief amusement of this evening.

  After greeting me warmly, the senator then introduced me to the members of his family. First, his lady wife, whose first freshness of beauty had long passed, yet her present visage could not totally obscure the fact that, in her earlier years, she must have been a woman of not inconsiderable charm. She smiled gently, and I returned the compliment. I was informed that the elder son, a lank-looking fellow, pursued business interests in the Arsenal in company with his father, and was heir to the family fortune. At this young man's side sat his wife, the senator's daughter-in-law, a ravishing beauty, but one who appeared to be blessed with neither wit nor humour. It appeared that her looks accounted for the greater part of her allure, and she decorated her head, hands and neck with such an abundance of jewels and trinkets that her worth might be accurately calculated in ducats. The senator's younger son could barely bring himself to raise his eyes and face me in a civil manner. He sat somewhat nonchalantly, seemingly determined to appear uninterested in the newly arrived spectacle. His dandyish clothes, which, even to my untutored eye, appeared to lack any real understanding of either fashion or taste, completed his helpless look. The final member of the group, the senator's daughter, sat silently, but with a welcoming smile about both her mouth and, more importantly, her eyes. A stranger soon learns that where the mouth may deceive, the eyes tell nothing but the truth. In common with what I understood to be the practice of a modest Venetian damsel, she showed not more than four fingers of flesh beneath the shoulders. I was placed at the far end of the table, where my closest companions were the younger son and the gentle daughter.

  The meal was lavish by my meagre standards. In my own country I had, of course, eaten excessively and well, but since my arrival in Venice my diet had been confined to simple fare. However, on this evening I ate heartily and praised the senator's cook, yet when presented with wine I drank only in moderation, for I was aware that to indulge might result in a loose tongue and unpleasant consequences. And so the evening unfolded, with my person being ever vigilant. Much of the questioning was taken up by the elder son, who seemed eager to prevent any other from interrogating me in order that he might remain the focal point of the evening. Perhaps he imagined that this would somehow please his father. Whenever his dull wife tried to intervene and make a point, he was sharp in his rebuke and clearly he was uninterested in whatever it was that she might have to say on this or any other occasion. He concluded one conversational volley with the observation that, in this city of churches, palaces and canals, Venetian households did, from time to time, use black slaves. I countered with the information that I had once been held as a slave, yet, as unpleasant as this situation had been, I had survived to tell the tale. I watched this boy carefully and, deciding that the victory was already secured, I chose not to mention my royal blood, or the fact that many Romans and Greeks had also been held as slaves, and so the moment passed. Eventually the senator's daughter was permitted to make enquiry as to the customs of my country with regard to food and wine, and I assured her that they were similar to those of her own country, with perhaps fewer spices added to the meat. She nodded, as though approving of my countrymen's manner of cooking food, and then her tiresome brother once more took up his tedious line of questioning.

  Some time before the final course made its welcome appearance – for, if truth be told, I was finding the whole procedure somewhat difficult – the senator brought up the thorny subject of war. He heaped praise upon my exploits in the field, referring especially to battles fought and won against the infidel Turk He then announced that my outstanding reputation as a General and leader of men had led him to persuade the doge to dip his hands deep into the coffers of this great republic, in order that they might hire a man of renowned capabilities in the art of war. At this disclosure, it occurred to me that I was to understand from the senator that a failure on my part would be regarded as a failing on his part, too. And then, after the final course had been consumed, our dinner was suddenly at an end. The senator led me carefully but firmly by the arm, back along the dimly lit corridor, and ushered me into his manservant's company. As he did so, he shared with me his knowledge that war with the Turk was imminent. I was not to fail. I looked at this elderly man and understood that my invitation to dine at his home had provided those close to him with an opportunity to judge his prize acquisition. He was, of course, sure that he had not made a mistake in hitching his fortune to mine, but to insure himself against future difficulties he was simply seeking approval from his family. Perhaps this was the Venetian custom.

  During my return journey it began to snow. Tiny white flakes spun down from the dark sky and lightly dusted the gondola with a thin salty layer. And then the pleasing tone of the journey changed as the wind began to drive directly into my face, and the flurries became bothersome. I closed the curtains to the canopy, which disappointed me, for I wished to drink in views of my Venice at every possible opportunity, but my body was as yet unaccustomed to the damp cold which characterized this winter clime. Secreted in the closed cabin of this most perfect vehicle, I felt the swerves and twists as we floated through the darkness, my senses throbbing with the perfect mystery of this journey. And then it occurred to me that the senator's daughter must live a lonely life in her father's large house. Like all the fair daughters of Venice, she was no doubt being groomed for a marriage that would be beneficial to both families and occasion the fortunes of both to swell, but, visits to church aside, I imagined that she remained alone. By the time the gondola arrived at my lodgings and I stepped back on to terra firma, the swirling snow was in danger of becoming treacherous. I thanked my gondolier, whose manner seemed to have improved, and bade him goodnight, and then, as an afterthought, I urged him to be careful on his return journey. He smiled in the manner of one who was grateful for the sentiment, but who wished it to be known that he knew exactly what he was doing. He did not require advice from foreigners.

  After some fruitless hours spent tossing first one way and then the next, I arose before dawn realizing that, ag
ain, I needed to walk about this city in the moonlight, both to reorder my thoughts and to put into place my feelings. It had ceased snowing, but it remained bitterly cold as I set out towards the north of the city, crossing small bridges and passing stealthily through dark alleyways. The chief problem, of course, was the lady on my mind. And, like a child, I wondered if I were on hers. That we barely exchanged a word seemed to have added to the mystique of this person whom I could not dislodge from my senses. I concluded that she was, without doubt, the most beautiful treasure of Venice. Never had I before witnessed such an effortless tranquillity, a superior air of breeding both aristocratic and modest, and a strength of personality that was at once confident and gently reassuring. When this lady moved, it was as though the universe moved with her, and what light there was in the room was wholly swallowed up by her eyes. I felt as though, against my will, some part of my soul had been captured.

  I stopped at the entrance to a small street which led into a square. I could see that at the end of the street there were gates, and marshalling the gates two guards. It occurred to me that this was the district about which my merchant had spoken, the place where the moneylenders resided, and never having entered this quarter, I was keen to satisfy my curiosity while everybody slept. The two Christian guards were naturally suspicious about my approaching them, but seeing that I was clearly not one of their own, and that I did not seem intent upon harming any Jew, they unbolted the gates and, after I had bestowed upon them a small token of my gratitude, they let me pass. And what a strange place was this walled ghetto. Apparently, most of the Jews did not regard this arrangement of being locked behind gates from sunset to sunrise as a hardship, for it afforded them protection against the many cold hearts that opposed their people. On Sundays and on Christian holy days, the Jews were imprisoned for the full length of the day, and they were obliged both to appoint and to pay these Christian guards themselves. In addition, they were required to pay two boats to patrol unceasingly the canals surrounding the ghetto, the outer walls of which were to be windowless. The Jews paid dearly to live and do commerce at the heart of the Venetian empire, rather than in the provinces, and penalties for offending the morals of the people of Venice were severe. Intimacy between Jewish men and Christian women was punishable by a heavy fine and up to twelve months' imprisonment, depending upon whether the woman was a public prostitute. In addition, Jews were forbidden to run schools or teach Christians in any subject, and any Jew found outside the ghetto at night was likely to be heavily fined and imprisoned. Some frightened Jews argued that the ghetto, far from affording them protection, made it easier for popular outbursts against them to achieve some focus, for the Jews were herded en masse and enclosed in one defenceless pen.

  As I began to explore, I noticed that the streets were recklessly narrow and ill-arranged, and on either side of them immensely tall and well-appointed houses sat next to equally tall hovels. In this ghetto, the rich and the destitute lived together, the denizens bound only by their faith. Nothing stirred, and I felt as though I were wandering about a village that had been quickly abandoned in a time of plague. Not a single article of clothing hung from a window, and not a single window was ajar to allow a little breeze to penetrate. I longed to catch a glimpse of one of their beautiful black-eyed women, but the inhabitants of this region appeared to be sleeping peacefully. I neither heard the raised voice of a call to prayer, nor did I spy the night-time wandering of an exotic such as myself. Everything remained calm, and it appeared that these Jews obeyed the rhythms of day and night with a slavish adherence. I walked for some time through the maze of little streets and noticed the complete absence of shrines, madonnas, carved crosses, or images of saints. All outward signs of devotion were absent in this dark place, which led me to conclude that religious imagery of any kind probably constituted a particular sin for these people. I continued to wander, but the further I entered the ghetto, the filthier the alleyways became, and the more oppressive these tall hovels appeared, with damp staining the walls, and in certain places causing the plaster to erupt in a manner similar to boils. These towers of poverty seemed to be reaching desperately for a little light or air above a darkness and filth which seemed more befitting of an earlier age of squalor. At precisely the moment when I was beginning to feel hopelessly lost, I emerged into a small square, in one corner of which were buildings of more human proportions. At the far end of the square, and at the end of a reasonably well-paved and brightly illuminated street, I spied the gates through which I had entered this underworld. My exploration had unnerved me somewhat, for it was well known that the Jews were fortunate in their wealth. Why they should choose to live in this manner defeated my understanding. Surely there was some other land or some other people among whom they might dwell in more tolerable conditions?

  Once back at my lodgings, I stood outside and stared as the sun began her morning's labour up the steep slope of the sky. Then I listened as the tuneful lament of a flute rose from a half-deserted street behind me, and I breathed a long sigh of relief. With some great difficulty I had managed to navigate my way from the gates of the ghetto and back into a world that I recognized. It was only when I stumbled upon the Grand Canal that my heart finally regained a normal beat. Indeed, it appeared somewhat shameful to me that a man who had endured many wars and faced much danger should panic on finding himself in unfamiliar streets in an admittedly civilized environment. But it was Venice herself which induced this frenzy in me, for her streets led carelessly one into the other, stubbornly refusing to reveal any clue as to where they might ultimately terminate. And then, once back in the region of my lodgings, I was suddenly seized with a desire to witness the start of the day. However, I was soon shaken from my contemplation of the sun's labours by the sight of my attendant emerging from my own door and looking upon me disapprovingly. At first I wondered if my nightly wanderings had upset him, for I could imagine nothing else that might have caused him to feel any new antipathy towards me. It was then that I noticed the letter that he was clutching. He passed it to me and, as was his custom, he chose not to utter a single word. He turned theatrically and re-entered the house, leaving me to contemplate the letter alone. Having failed to recognize the handwriting on the outside, I decided to open it and discover for myself its contents. I was shocked to find that she who had been constantly on my mind had also been moved by our meeting, but, unlike myself, she had taken the initiative and set pen to paper. As decorum demanded, she revealed little of her heart, and simply requested that I visit with her later that same day in her father's garden. According to this lady, I was to enter a gondola that would appear at a determined hour, with a white handkerchief displayed at one of the windows.

  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.