I, Iago Part 23

"Illbeatim!" Ca.s.sio declared.

"Beat me?" Roderigo nearly shrieked, straight at me, a cry for help. I could not risk his calling me by name.

"Shutupy'rogueyou!" Ca.s.sio demanded, and took one staggering step in Roderigo's direction with his sword raised.

I knew I should have stepped in to save Roderigo; I felt a shot of guilt for failing to. But it was hypnotic to watch my own machinations working out so exactly right, before my eyes, with so little effort on my part. It was seductive.

Montano took the step I should have: he reached out and grabbed the sword from Ca.s.sio's hand. Although certainly drunk himself, he was more sober than Ca.s.sio, and his wavering gaze wavered less than the lieutenant's. "Stop that now, Lieutenant," he ordered. He tossed the sword to the stone floor of the walk, and then reached again, this time constraining Ca.s.sio with a wrist-grip.

"Lemme go, sir," Ca.s.sio growled. "Lemme go or I'll knock you ri' off th's wall."

"Ca.s.sio," Montano said gently, paternally. "Ca.s.sio, you're very drunk."

It added fuel to the fire of his self-righteousness. "Dr'nk? D'you dare call meee dr'nk?" he sneered at Montano. With a sharpness and a quickness that belied his state, Ca.s.sio reached for the dagger in his belt and pulled it out flas.h.i.+ng it in the torchlight; he turned on Montano and would have stabbed him with it, but Montano too was sharper than he seemed: he released Ca.s.sio's wrist, leapt out of the way, drew his sword, and pressed the point of it on Ca.s.sio's collarbone.

Ca.s.sio slapped it away on the flat side with his palm; Montano, not expecting this, let the sword fall from his grasp but then pulled out his own dagger. The two lunged stumbling toward each other. I took a cautious step forward, wanting to pull them apart without being myself struck. Roderigo, beyond them, was trying to get my attention. Urgently, I gestured him to leave; relieved, he tore down along the wall watch and disappeared into the darkness.

I turned my attention back to the duelers. "Lieutenant Ca.s.sio, put up!" I ordered. My plan did not require anyone to get killed, or even wounded. This was getting out of hand. "Montano, sir, you are not so drunk as he, contain yourself!"

They circled each other, looking for an opportunity to reach out with a blind and ill-considered stab. It was the kind of fight they'd have had as first-week recruits learning defense skills.

"Help!" I shouted at the two guards at the keep door. "The watch! Somebody call the watch!" That was ironic: here were the two leaders of the watch. But Roderigo must have set the alarm as he retreated; the bells on the chapel tower began to peal, and all the guards along the Citadel walls called out to one another, asking what pa.s.sed. Far down below, doors swung open onto the streets of the town, and I could hear the mustering voices of anxious Cypriot civilians.

Montano, when the bells began, instinctively looked over at them. Ca.s.sio used that moment: he leapt forward and slashed at Montano's abdomen.

Montano shouted from the pain. He fell back onto the stone, curling around his b.l.o.o.d.y middle. The men along the wall walk began running toward us.

Ca.s.sio, crazed now, was about to step in for a direct downward stab at Montano's side; I jumped against him to send him sprawling against the parapet; he nearly rebounded off it, finally landing on his a.s.s. "Hold, Lieutenant, for the love of heaven!" I shouted at him, grabbing his right arm when he tried to rise again.

I prayed Montano would be all right even as something inside of me exulted at the injury: Ca.s.sio had just attacked the governor of Cyprus! He would never live down the shame of this evening. My plan was working better than I ever dreamed, in front of two dozen witnesses, and none of it was traceable to me. I'd never felt such power in my life. It was hard not to laugh aloud with the thrill of it.

And then, the perfect coda to my fabulous concerto of revenge: at that moment, through the keep door, erupted Oth.e.l.lo, wide-eyed and half undressed.

"What is going on?" he demanded, still tying on his sword-belt. Four attendants scurried after him with torches. "Are we under attack-"

"I'm bleeding," Montano shouted out in the haze of inebriation and pain. "Help! I'm bleeding to death!"

Oblivious to the outrage he was creating for himself, Ca.s.sio responded to this plea by struggling again to rise, as if he would have another go at the governor.

"Hold, Lieutenant!" I shouted; I yanked him back down and caught his wrist at such an angle he could not keep the grip on his dagger. After a furious moment of resistance, he let it go, and it clanged to the stone beneath us. "For G.o.d's sake man, what are you trying to do?" I demanded. When Ca.s.s...o...b..gan to explain to me the hurt he intended for Montano, I overrode him: "The general is here, Lieutenant; for the love of heaven, shut up and listen to him!"

It took Oth.e.l.lo a moment to recover from his rush of alarm. In the light, I watched his dawning realization that this was a drunken brawl. There was a flicker of relief, then much disgust . . . then fury.

"Are you mad?" he demanded in a low, dangerous voice. "So we do not need the Turks, we can all just kill ourselves off? Is that it? Put your blade away, Michele-and the rest of you. The next man who makes the slightest move toward violence will die by my hand." He glanced up, and suddenly his voice expanded to fill the whole night sky: "Stop that dreadful bell, for heaven's sake! You are scaring the population half to death! They'll think the Turks have landed after all." He turned his attention back to all of us on the wall walk. "Somebody tell me what's the matter here."

None of us spoke. His eyes strayed over all of us, and-of course-rested on me. The bells stopped.

"Iago, it is up to you. Speak. Tell me who began this."

I said nothing.

"Speak, Iago. If you are my friend, tell me honestly what happened here."

Oh, that was so like him-not to simply order his ensign, as was his right, but to call upon a bond of friends.h.i.+p to invoke loyalty. A quality I loved in him, more than I wanted to right now.

For a long moment I said nothing. I had created all of this, so easily-it had been no labor. In fact, except for Montano's wound, it was all good entertainment. And best of all, I was about to reap the benefits of it. All it required of me was the smallest lie of omission. Although even that caused a twinge of conscience.

"I do not know," I said, with an apologetic shrug. "They were friendly, everyone was getting along well, and then suddenly . . ." I shook my head. "Suddenly there were drawn swords and screams and insults. I'm sorry I've got nothing more to say to it. I have no idea what happened."

Oth.e.l.lo turned unhappily toward Ca.s.sio. "Michele, explain yourself."

Ca.s.sio, almost s.h.i.+vering with embarra.s.sment, and fighting off the fog of drunkenness, did the only intelligent thing possible: "Forgive me, General, but I can't speak," he managed to say, his face resting hard against the cold stone of the parapet. I was afraid he might throw up on me.

Oth.e.l.lo frowned. Turning away from us, he tried Montano. "Governor," he said patiently, "I do not know you as well as I know these others, but I know you have a name for gravity and wisdom. Tell me what makes you throw off that reputation to become a night-brawler?"

Montano did not move from his curled-up position. "I'm badly hurt," he moaned. "I need physic. Iago can tell you everything. I was defending myself."

Oth.e.l.lo looked around at the men. "Can no one tell me anything?" he demanded. "Who started this nonsense? This is a town of war! People's hearts have been brimful of fear for months now, and we, who are supposed to ensure their safety-we're now the ones who make them fearful! What fools among you do not understand how monstrous that is?" His voice grew quick and stern. "Iago, tell me now, who began it?"

Seeing me hesitate, Montano grunted in a pained voice, "Tell the truth, Iago, or you are no true soldier."

"Do not say that," I retorted, grateful he was giving me so many opportunities to play the role of regretful truth-teller. "I'd rather have my tongue cut from my mouth before I let it say anything against Michele Ca.s.si . . . oh." I looked away from Oth.e.l.lo with sheepish worry. I did it so well that I almost fooled myself.

"Go on, Iago," Oth.e.l.lo said through clenched teeth.

"I will," I said, "but if you listen to the whole story you'll see that Ca.s.sio is not to blame. We were all out here talking, and suddenly, Ca.s.sio and some stranger came running out from the tower, and Ca.s.sio had his sword drawn on the stranger. I'd never seen him look like that before. Signior Montano here stepped in to try to stop Ca.s.sio from attacking the stranger, who was unarmed-that's all it was. Montano got in the way. I don't know why Ca.s.sio was so enraged at the stranger, but Ca.s.sio is a rational man, I'm sure the stranger had it coming and Ca.s.sio had every right to be after him."

There was a longish silence, during which Oth.e.l.lo perused my expression as if I were a piece of art he was contemplating buying. Finally, with a sigh, he looked away and said, "Iago, your loyalty to a friend is forcing you to make light of the matter. Michele Ca.s.sio," he said, with a small cough of distaste, and then turned full on to Ca.s.sio. I helped Ca.s.sio in his attempt to scramble to his feet. Oth.e.l.lo held out his hand, palm up, as if expecting something. "Ca.s.sio, I love you like a brother, but you will never be an officer of mine. Give me the lieutenant's sash."

Victory!

Fighting back Florentine tears, Ca.s.sio tried to pull the sash off over his head. It got caught on the ostrich feather. I was near enough to help him remove it, but that seemed a graceless gesture. I wondered how long it would be before Oth.e.l.lo finally did the right thing and awarded me the sash. Perhaps he would do it this very moment . . .

. . . and he might have, but his wife showed up.

Blond hair mussed, in a white linen nightdress, with a red silk shawl wrapped about her shoulders, Desdemona stared in sleepy confusion at all of us.

"And on top of it all, you've woken my wife! You'll pay for that!" Oth.e.l.lo snapped. You are truly obsessed, I thought, if you make that as much a sin as terrifying an entire town.

"What's the matter?" Her sweet, small voice sounded jarringly delicate after the masculine shouting and carryings-on. Her face was shadowed by the torchlight behind her.

"Nothing, sweetheart," Oth.e.l.lo said, solicitously putting an arm around her. "This is just the soldier's life, being awoken in the middle of the night because fools are fighting with each other. Go back to bed. You there," he ordered a couple of the guards. "Take Governor Montano to the hospital, I will go after to see he is well. Iago-"

I nearly leapt toward him, so eager was I to be given the sash. "Iago, take some men and go about the town, make sure people know this was a false alarm, and all is well."

"Of course, General," I said, saluting smartly. I lowered my arm but stood at attention as the entire congregation filed into the keep, or out along the wall walk to their guard positions. Oth.e.l.lo wrapped a large dark arm around his small pale wife, and ushered her back inside.

There was n.o.body left out here but Ca.s.sio and myself.

Chapter 39.

HE SAT SLUMPED OVER, head resting in hands, so pathetic I was almost moved for him.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you hurt, Lieutenant?" Ah, the delight of calling him lieutenant when he no longer was one.

"Past all surgery," Ca.s.sio mumbled in a miserable voice.

"G.o.d forbid," I said, and rushed to him, pus.h.i.+ng him upright, as if to search for wounds on his torso. It reminded me of being a small child playing War with Roderigo.

Ca.s.sio pushed me away and intoned in a mournful voice, "I've lost my reputation!"

I laughed dismissively and smacked him on the shoulder. "Is that all? I swear to heaven, Michele, I thought you'd received some bodily wound!"

"I have lost the immortal part of myself. My reputation, Iago!"

Leave it to a Florentine to wax rhapsodic even at a time like this.

"Reputation is a meaningless nicety," I argued. "Half the time it's gotten unjustly"-here I refrained from referring to a certain previous lieutenancy-"and half the time it's lost unjustly too."

"Oth.e.l.lo," Ca.s.sio mumbled, miserable.

"Calm down," I said. "There are ways to get back in his good graces. He was making an example of you in front of a crowd of new soldiers, that is all-he wanted to show them what he'd do to his most exalted, so they would all know better than to push him. But now he's made his point. Appeal to him and I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Ca.s.sio shook his head. "I would not forgive me, in his position. This all happened because I was drunk. Men behave like idiots when they're drunk. There's a reason drink is called the devil, it brings out the devil in all of us."

I ignored the moralizing. "Who was that fellow you were following? What did he do to you?"

Ca.s.sio shook his head despondently. "No idea."

"Really? None?"

He curled his hands around his head again. "I remember a ma.s.s of things, but nothing clearly. I remember a quarrel, but not what it was about. Oh G.o.d," he groaned, rubbing his face. "We put an enemy in our mouths and it steals our brains! Why do we do that? We transform ourselves into beasts and act as if it were something to celebrate!"

"You seem fine now," I observed.

"Yes, I am just sober enough to hate myself for being drunk," he lamented. "Another thing the devil does well."

I liked him more this way-not just that he was humbled, but also that he was sincere. "Michele, you're being too hard on yourself. It was a rough night for you, but since it has happened as it has, face it like a man. It should not take much to mend the situation."

He gave me a disbelieving stare and said tersely, "I'll ask for my place again; he'll say I am a drunkard. He'll be right! End of discussion!" He made a disgusted sound. "To go from sensible to foolish to beastly-only the devil can do that to a man-"

"Enough of that," I cut him off. "Will you stop obsessing on the evils of liquor and trust me with some advice?"

"Of course. Ach, I can't believe I got drunk," he moaned.

"Everyone gets drunk," I said, barely keeping my patience. "Let that go. Do you wish to get your office back?"

"Of course," he whined.

"Here's what you need to do, then. The general's wife is now the general-we've all seen that. Go to her. Ask for her help to put you in your place again. She is a generous soul, and she'd do anything for those she treasures. Ask her to splint this broken joint between you and her husband. Just as a bone mends stronger than it was, I wager Oth.e.l.lo's regard for you will grow stronger too."

He thought this over for a moment, his hangdog expression leaning puppyward. "That's good advice."

"No more than you deserve," I said. Oh, how I meant that. I patted him on the arm. "Dear Lieutenant, I must carry out my orders, so I'll wish you good night now."

"Good night, Iago," Ca.s.sio said, with a weak smile in my direction.

I watched him walk unsteadily toward the door that led down into the keep. My heart smiled, but I kept my lips from showing it, even to the darkness.

Now: if I could put the slightest worry in Oth.e.l.lo's mind that there might be something impure in Desdemona's regard for Ca.s.sio, then the more fervently she spoke on his behalf, the more she would be d.a.m.ning both of them, and tormenting Oth.e.l.lo in the bargain. That suited me. I took satisfaction in the perverse irony that Desdemona's good intentions would turn on all three of them-just as my good intentions to all of them had turned on me. An eye for an eye, a turn for a turn, a measure for a measure.

I DECIDED TO follow the wall walk over to the next tower and descend from there to pick out a few guards and begin my rounds of calming all the townfolk. But as I took a step along the parapet, I saw a shaved head capping a familiar face, gasping for breath and glowering at me in the dark.

"Roderigo!" I said as cheerfully as I could. "Excellent work!"

He stood up; his face was close to the torchlight, and I could no longer pretend to not see his expression.

"Whatever's wrong, brother?"

He took a step closer to me. "I was exceedingly well cudgeled tonight," he said. "And while being chased as if I were a hare-not a fox, but a hare-the absurdity of what I'm doing here was suddenly extremely clear to me. I've thrown pearls at Desdemona and all I have to show for it are some b.u.mps on my head and a little experience. I am going home to Venice."

I was so delighted with my own abilities, I wanted him to be delighted too; I could not brook the notion that he should be displeased with my advice. "Patience, Roderigo," I said with the confidence of my childhood. "We only arrived today; we cannot accomplish everything at once. Go to the barracks and get some sleep." He looked uncertain. "There is no easy transport to Venice anyhow, so you may as well give me a few days more to change your circ.u.mstances. Go to sleep. Just down that way." I pointed to the door of the keep. "The barracks are on the ground floor, across the courtyard. Trust me. Is it not better than having drowned yourself?"

Frowning, he left me alone on the parapet.

Desdemona.

Chapter 40.

A WEEK WENT by. One little week. One entire, endless week, without rain, without an opportunity to speak alone with the general, as the gra.s.s in the courtyard grew daily browner. Magistrates held meetings with the general. Soldiers practiced their arms. The ladies did embroidery all day, shopped in the town, dressed well for dinner. Roderigo sent me, by boys well paid to remain discreet, a pocketful of jewelry every other day-strands of pearls, large rubies, emeralds, opalescent stones I did not recognize. These I stored in my wardrobe. If ever I envied Roderigo, it was that week. How could a man have so much moveable wealth that he could so heedlessly hand it over to another? My work in the world was as significant as his, my mind sharper, my determination steelier . . . but I could not yet afford to provide my wife a home, let alone rubies.

I chose not to dwell on this confounding outrage. More urgent matters required my full attention.