I, Iago Part 28

"Is he angry?" I asked with stunning disingenuousness.

"He was just with us," Emilia said, sounding equally shaken. "He left, he went inside, and he seemed . . . very strange. Unsettled. He spoke rudely to her. Angry, yes, maybe."

I shook my head. "I did not know that man could get angry. It must be serious, perhaps a message from Venice? I'll go find him and see what's wrong."

Desdemona took a deep sigh. "Thank you, Iago, do so."

"I'll leave you to it," I said to Ca.s.sio and went inside. I did not even exchange glances with Emilia; I could not risk her reading anything amiss in my expression.

"DO KEEP IN MIND," I urged, "that there are acceptable circ.u.mstances for a man and a woman to be alone in private, and kiss each other-"

"This would not be one of them!" Oth.e.l.lo snapped. "This would be an unauthorized kiss."

"But we do not know that such a thing even happened. You should ask your wife! I would ask Emilia, if I suspected anything. You have seen no proof at all, and I have only seen a handkerchief. And if I give my wife a handkerchief . . ."

We were standing almost exactly where we had all met up the day of arrival in Cyprus, on the small stone piazza between the Citadel, the pa.s.sageway to town, and the harbor road.

After delivering Ca.s.s...o...b..ck to Desdemona, I had sought Oth.e.l.lo out within the walls of the fortress. I had not found him; I had gone into the town, and not found him; I had gone down to the port and seen him standing on the slope, staring out to sea. And so I had gone down to him and was coaxing him now back toward the fortress.

Lying by commission was uncomfortable and distasteful to me, and so I decided to sail a different tack, which I thought of as "the Venetian approach." Unlike outright lying (which I had previously thought of as the Venetian approach), this one pecked and clawed while pretending to ma.s.sage and soothe. Just like the backhanded compliments and veiled slurs so common among the better circles of Venetian society.

"ONCE I GIVE the handkerchief to her, it's hers," I concluded. "And since it is hers, she may give it to anyone she likes."

"Her honor is hers too; does that mean she may just give that away?" he snapped.

I shook my head. "That metaphor does not hold. Honor is abstract, it's an unseen essence. You cannot tell by looking if somebody still has it or not," I said, dismissing him. "Whereas a handkerchief-"

"He had my handkerchief," Oth.e.l.lo growled, his hands curling into fists.

"So what?" I demanded. "You do not know what that means."

He glared at me. "It means more than just his having my handkerchief, you know that, Iago, do not play the fool with me."

"You haven't seen it for yourself," I argued. "You're just going on what you've heard me say. What if I am lying to you? What if I am mistaken? What if I said I had seen him do you wrong? Or if I said I'd heard him say-I don't know, the things men say when they're having an affair-"

"Has he said something?" Oth.e.l.lo demanded, eyes wide.

I released a reluctant sigh. "Even if he has, General, of course if he's put to it, he'll swear he never did."

"What has he said?" Oth.e.l.lo demanded.

"Well, he said . . ." Oh no, more outright lying. I much preferred to tell the truth deceitfully. "I have no idea what he said."

He grabbed my arm and shook it. "What did he say? What?"

"Something about a lie, about lying-"

"With her?"

"With her, on her, something like that." I sounded fl.u.s.tered, and it was not greatly an act. My whole body rebelled against the act of lying, just as it thrilled happily at all these other newfound skills. In contrast to the other ways I had of getting a result, actually lying by commission was so crude.

Oth.e.l.lo started breathing heavily. A sweat broke out on his face, and he waved his hands in small, nervous flutters, pacing around me. His anger turning inward, he muttered to himself more than to me. "Lie with her! Lie on her!" he growled. "And the confession . . . and the handkerchief . . . he'll confess, I'll make him confess all right, and then I'll hang him for it . . ." He smashed his hands together, as if smas.h.i.+ng Ca.s.sio's brain between them.

I realized what was happening a heartbeat before it began: he was falling into another fit, as he had that day back in the Senate, years ago. By his own reckoning, I had saved his career then. I felt, among the growing mora.s.s of other emotions, a strange nostalgia for those early days.

I grabbed him to offer physical support; he was down a moment later, his body twitching, his eyes rolling back in his head.

I stepped back to take a look at him. Suddenly I felt exhausted. I wanted him to wake from this fit with no memory at all of what had happened over the course of the day. Good heavens, was this all one day? Had all this madness, all this dangerous ecstasy, happened over the course of this one day?

It was not even sunset.

"Oth.e.l.lo!" I shouted. "Oth.e.l.lo, can you hear me?"

At that moment, Ca.s.sio appeared.

IN MY ABSENCE, Ca.s.sio must have repet.i.tioned Desdemona and then gone straight back into Famagusta to sweeten his woes in the arms of Bianca. Given how little time had pa.s.sed, I surmised he had been sweetened very rapidly. "Michele!" I cried out, desperately trying to think of a way to prevent Ca.s.sio and Oth.e.l.lo from meeting face-to-face, especially at this moment.

Ca.s.sio gawked to see Oth.e.l.lo in this state. He ran close to us, crying out, "What's the matter?"

I held out an arm to restrain him going closer. "The general has fallen into an epilepsy."

Ca.s.sio grimaced awkwardly. "Should we do something? Rub his temples?"

Oh, he wanted so badly to be useful. He wanted to be present, the concerned healer, as Oth.e.l.lo opened his eyes. Not for your life, I thought. Aloud, I replied, with casual authority, "You mustn't touch him, it has to run its own course. If you try to help him, it makes him worse, he foams at the mouth and rants."

That worked; Ca.s.s...o...b..cked right off. Oth.e.l.lo groaned a little on the ground.

"Look," I said. "He's recovering already. I'd disappear if I were you, he'll wake in a moment, but you will not advance your cause by gaping at him when he's like this. I'll get him back inside to safety, but then I want to talk to you, so stay nearby."

He looked around worriedly. "I'll walk down to the bottom of the hill and then come back when he's gone-will that do?"

"Go just around the bend. I'll whistle for you when it's safe."

As he hurried down the roadway, I turned my full attention on Oth.e.l.lo. His eyes were open; he was drenched in sweat. "How are you, Oth.e.l.lo? I tried to break your fall-I hope you haven't hurt your head?"

He stared up at me. "Are you mocking me?"

"Am I mocking you? Me? Of course not," I said impatiently, helping him to sit up. "But with all respect, I wish you'd learn to take your fortune like a man."

"Did he say those things you said he said?" Oth.e.l.lo demanded.

I sighed impatiently. "Be a man, sir! Do you know how many thousands of cuckolds have no idea they're cuckolds? Wouldn't it be better to know? I'd rather know, then at least I could take action."

"Smart man," Oth.e.l.lo said grimly as I helped him to stand. He sighed heavily, straightened his clothes, and glanced back up to the fortress.

"Do not go back in yet," I said, on an impulse. He gave me a questioning look. "While you were lying here, Ca.s.sio came by. I convinced him to leave and made excuses for you. Honestly, it bothers me that you'd let your pa.s.sion get the better of you so severely, but never mind," I added, when he glared wearily. "Anyway, I told him I wanted to speak alone with him once you were gone. I want to determine if he is having an affair based on a conversation with him while he is awake, not talking in his dreams, which does not count. So hide yourself over there"-I pointed to the gate where Roderigo had hidden, the day of our arrival-"and watch him as he talks to me about your wife."

"You cannot be serious," he said, appalled. "Do you think he will do that? Just . . . talk openly about how he is cuckolding me? The wh.o.r.eson! The d.a.m.ned wh.o.r.eson!"

"Calm yourself, General," I said sternly. "I do not know that he will do it. I would like, for your sake, to find out. But I can't do that if he knows you're here. Keep control of your emotions. Are you a man or a spleen?"

He shook his head with annoyance. "Only you have the allowance to talk to me that way, Iago."

"Well I'm glad somebody does, because you need it." I pointed at the gate. "Go over there, Ca.s.sio will be right back. Watch him. However much you trust me, you should not be relying on my word. I might be mistaken, or misunderstanding. You must only take as proof what you see with your own eyes. Yes?"

He nodded.

"So be patient, and just watch."

"I'll be patient, but when the time comes, Iago, I'll be murderous as well."

This was no temperament for an army general. It scared me to imagine what would happen-not right away, but over years, as this hidden serpent grew within him-if the army remained under the control of such a man. I had never seen this side of him. I did not believe that I could have drawn from him, so quickly and effortlessly, what was not already there within him. He was failing the test of character.

Perhaps it would be merciful of me to let him see that for himself. I would push him a little harder. This morning, he had declared himself unfit to rule the army-perhaps he had been right. If he continued in this vein, then he was definitely right-and it was a service to everyone, including him, to make that plain.

"Do everything as it is timely," I said vaguely. "Will you withdraw?" I pointed to the opened city gate behind which Roderigo must have spent the better part of three hours just yesterday. Oth.e.l.lo crossed to it and disappeared between it and the wall.

I whistled through my teeth. A moment later, I saw Ca.s.sio's tall, stately form appear around the bend as he walked briskly toward me. For some reason I thought of the first moment I had seen him, back in Venice. It had been annoying then, how very handsome and dapper he looked. He still looked handsome, but no longer dapper. Even the ostrich feather seemed to droop at its master's fortunes. Well, he should not have had those drinks. He was too weak-willed, and he paid the price for it. The revelation of that too I now considered my duty to the army and the state.

"Lieutenant!" I called to him as he approached. "How are you?"

"I feel even worse for being called lieutenant, when I'm not one," he replied, moping beside me now.

"Push Desdemona and you'll be sure," I advised.

"I doubt she's trying very hard, and I cannot blame her," he muttered.

I lowered my voice and whispered to him, slyly, "Too bad it's not up to this Bianca of yours to plead on your behalf."

He smiled then, in that knowing way a man smiles when he knows a woman wants him. "That's true enough, poor thing. I think she's in love with me."

"I heard a rumor in the officers' mess yesterday that she's telling everyone you'll marry her. Is that your intention?"

Ca.s.sio immediately burst into laughter. There was a swagger in the laugh, which suited my purposes and also made me more disgusted with him.

"She thinks I'd marry her? I'm just a customer! I'm a Florentine gentleman, Iago, do you really think I'd marry a wh.o.r.e?"

"I'm just telling you what I heard," I protested.

"You did not hear that." He chuckled.

"I swear I did, or call me villain," I said, smiling along with him.

"The little monkey made that up herself." He grinned. "She thinks herself higher than she is, and more desirable too-I certainly never gave her any cause to think that I would marry her. That's too much. But you know, everything she does is too much-"

His tone was dropping again, into a confidential one implying he was about to share a naughty yarn. I shuffled a few steps closer to where Oth.e.l.lo was hiding, hoping he would hear. Ca.s.sio followed my movement without even realizing it, so I took a few more steps closer to the wall.

"If I'm out of her sight for more than an hour, she follows me," Ca.s.s...o...b..gan. "Everywhere. She's even threatened to come up to the fortress, like the common women! A few days ago, I was down by the port, talking to some Venetians, and she appeared out of nowhere, just walked right up to me while I was in the middle of a conversation, and did this-"

Laughing lightly, he threw his arm around my neck and sagged his weight against my body. I stepped back in surprise. "Michele-" I said delicately.

"I'm not exaggerating." He chuckled. "She threw all her weight on me, and started weeping and sighing and taking huge deep breaths, pus.h.i.+ng her t.i.ts right against me." He laughed again. "I could not believe the scene she made! But good heaven, if she's telling people I want to marry her, I'd better cut the whole thing off. It's getting out of hand."

"Indeed it is," I said, looking over his shoulder and hardly believing what I saw. "Here she comes now."

Chapter 46.

Ca.s.sIO SPUN AROUND to look into the pa.s.sageway. It was the woman I'd seen in the house, but with more cosmetic embellishment on her face now, and dressed to reveal far more of her slight form. She very nearly had steam coming out of her nostrils, and she was marching through the underpa.s.s as if she were a soldier.

For Ca.s.sio, this was an inconvenience. For me, it spelled potential catastrophe: Once Oth.e.l.lo saw her, and her behavior toward Ca.s.sio, he would probably realize this, not Desdemona, was the woman Ca.s.sio was speaking of. And then I'd be in trouble for trying to convince him otherwise.

So the attractive young woman walking toward us was my undoing. And I could not think what to do.

"Look at her," Ca.s.sio muttered to me. "I, marry that?" He raised his voice as she exited the pa.s.sageway and approached us. "What are you up to, shadowing me everywhere?"

This monkey might be a prost.i.tute, but she had the backbone of a warrior. And she was furious. "The devil take you!" she shouted.

And then she did something I could not have expected, something that once again a.s.sured me the G.o.ds themselves were overseeing my enterprise: From her bodice, she pulled out Desdemona's handkerchief, with the little strawberries on it, and waved it furiously in Ca.s.sio's face. "Where did this really come from? I am such a fool! That was a likely story about your finding it in your chamber and bringing it to me. This handkerchief comes from some finer mistress of yours, and you want me to copy it, so you can make a gift of it to someone else? That's it, isn't it! Well, I do not want it. There!" She smacked it so hard against his stomach that he nearly doubled over. "Give it to your hobbyhorse, I'll none of it."

The mocking Florentine had vanished; in his place was a simpering lover wanting to make his mistress happy. "Sweet Bianca," he crooned, reaching down to grab the handkerchief where it had fallen. "Calm down, sweetheart. Calm down!" He straightened, took her face between his hands, and kissed her on each cheek, and then her lips.

Bianca pulled away from his kiss, still glaring. "That's better. A little," she said in a steely voice. She gave him an appraising look; she had yet to acknowledge my presence, although she seemed highly aware of me as spectator. "I suppose you're welcome to come to supper tonight." The steel softened, and she graced him with a coquettish look. "If not tonight, whenever you're prepared to." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the handkerchief from his limp grasp and marched back through the pa.s.sageway.

Emilia and I had our differences, certainly, but from what I could tell, ours was by far the happiest and healthiest coupling on all of Cyprus.

"You might want to go after her," I said.

He sighed. "Yes, I better; she'll start screaming about me in the streets otherwise."

I nudged him in the arm. "Will you sup with her?"

He blushed slightly, and looked sheepish. "I intend to. She makes it worth my while if I stay after."

"Go on then," I counseled. I wanted him out of reach before Oth.e.l.lo left his hiding place.

Ca.s.sio ran after her; I saw him catch up to her just as she exited the pa.s.sage and the suns.h.i.+ne lit her brightly again.

That had turned out better than I ever could have devised. I knew the effect it would have on Oth.e.l.lo. Men judge more by appearance than reality, for sight belongs to everyone, but understanding only to a very few. Machiavelli. Ironically, a Florentine.

I heard Oth.e.l.lo step out of his hiding place.