I, Iago Part 10

"Is it not enough that I can go with you?" she demanded.

"What did you offer him?" I demanded back, through clenched teeth. "Did you say you'd make yourself available to him as well? Do you plan to wh.o.r.e yourself to the higher ranks? Don't think I haven't heard about what officers expect of lower-ranking wives."

"Iago, you are being silly now!" She laughed, which only further upset me.

"Don't mock me!" I shouted, slamming my fist against the bedpost so hard the farther bedpost hit the wall and made the whole room shudder. "Tell me that's not what you said."

"Of course that is not what I said, you petulant, jealous man!" she snapped, suddenly losing her humor.

"Tell me that your going with us has nothing to do with your s.e.x," I demanded.

"Iago, it has everything to do with my s.e.x! It has to! My not going had everything to do with my s.e.x, so what else did I have to argue with?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head in confusion. "What does that mean?" I asked.

"I told him," Emilia announced, lowering her voice and glancing randomly about the room, as if afraid there would be eavesdroppers, "I told him that our lovemaking is what makes you such a capable soldier, and that if you are deprived of your bed-mate, your skills with sword and gun will deteriorate quickly." She grinned, thinking she had ended the argument with this confession.

I gaped at her. "Emilia, that is ridiculous," I said. "You did not say such a thing."

"I did!" she a.s.sured me, like a proud child.

"You did not say such a thing to the leader of the Venetian army, one day after meeting him."

"Yes, I did!"

"You did not say such a thing, and he would never have relented because of it, and you are lying to me," I said angrily. I walked across the room, pointlessly, but needing a physical release of my irritated energy. I wished I were outside so I could kick something without being billed for damages.

"Ask him yourself, Iago!" Emilia said. "There are so many beliefs about s.e.x and war that go back before the dawn of time-"

"They almost always have to do with abstinence," I said, in a disapproving tone that horrified me by sounding like my father.

"But not always," Emilia countered cheerfully. "I do not know his background, but I'm sure there are some superst.i.tions in it, and something inside me knew that he might believe me, and I was right."

"Emilia, he did not believe you," I snapped. "He thought whatever you said was amusing. You amused him into saying yes."

"So what?" she retorted, arms held out before her. "He still said yes, and isn't that what matters?"

"You engaged in filthy discourse with the man, having just met him," I roared. "He thinks you're loose. When a woman talks to a man like that, a man knows what it means. And if she is brazen enough to do it right in front of her husband and a dozen military captains-heaven alone knows what she's capable of. You may as well have wh.o.r.ed yourself already."

Emilia started laughing again, which threw oil on my fire. "Iago, talk to Oth.e.l.lo directly, and it will put your mind to rest at once. Perhaps you are right, perhaps he did not believe me, and yielded to me only in amus.e.m.e.nt-"

"Not perhaps. Of course!"

"If so, it is an innocent amus.e.m.e.nt-"

"There is nothing innocent about your talking about your extraordinary s.e.xual powers to my commander in chief!"

"He thought it was charming of me to want so badly to be with you," she insisted. "That's all it was, love."

"You're a stupid fool if you think that!" I snarled.

She looked as if I'd struck her. She took a moment to compose herself, shocked, and then finally, in a meek voice, she said, "I'm very sorry if I am a stupid fool. My affection for you perhaps affects my reason. Please tell me what I can do to win back your regard."

I stood there awkwardly, openmouthed, angry but now impotent to act on it. "Emilia," I said in an imploring tone. "You should not come to Rhodes with me."

She put her hands over her face to hide it, but I could see the tearful grimace form around the edges of her palms. "You would rather separate us than trust me?" she asked from behind her lovely fingers, choking on the words. "You suspect my promiscuity more than you value my company? That easily?"

"It sounds terrible when you put it like that."

"There is no other way to put it, and it is terrible," she shot back.

She started weeping. I had never seen a woman weep-not sincerely, I mean-and I could not bear it. Immediately, every part of me could focus on nothing but how to stop her weeping. If she was weeping, it must mean I'd done something terrible to her, and I could not abide that evidence.

"Perhaps I have misconstrued the situation," I offered grumpily. "I will talk to the general to clarify the situation."

I heard her take in a shaky breath that suggested she was trying to control the tears. I sighed with relief.

"Yes, please speak to him," she begged. "Perhaps I am ignorant and offered him something without realizing it. Perhaps it is better all the way around if you excuse your stupid fool of a wife to him."

"You are not a stupid fool, and I'm sorry that I said it," I said hurriedly, and finally let myself go to her and hold her. She collapsed against me and pushed her head against my cheek.

"Do you know what?" she whispered.

"What?" I said into her hair.

"This is our first fight."

"Yes, it is."

"After two years, we've only had one fight."

"That's true," I said.

"That's pretty good," she said, and kissed my collarbone. I squeezed her, as if I would engulf her, swallow her with my whole body. My G.o.d, I loved that woman. No man ever had a better wife.

Chapter 15.

EMILIA, OF COURSE, did not come with us; Oth.e.l.lo had relented publicly for sport but called me to his quarters the next day to tell me the hard truth of the matter. I, with a confusing mix of emotions I was not proud of, informed Emilia that she would stay behind.

THE TURKS HAD taken Rhodes from the Knights Hospitaller back in 1522. Venice had briefly laid claim to some of its neighboring islands over the years, but Rhodes itself had never been a stronghold for us. Oth.e.l.lo had convinced the whole of the government that the Venetian Empire was well defended from the Turks except for the threat of Turkish Rhodes, and thus by taking Rhodes we would become indefinitely secure. My own five years of idleness on Terraferma was an excellent example of why we did not need so much of our manpower to the west of Venice, despite the simmering resentment and envy of the rest of Europe. So the ma.s.s of the army was to be redirected toward protecting Stato da Mar, the maritime half of Venice's great empire.

Besides which, ridding Rhodes of Turks was good for the whole of Christendom. Upon this argument, Oth.e.l.lo and the Senate had already convinced the papal army, the French, and even the Holy Roman Emperor to send their forces too. By the time Oth.e.l.lo had claimed me as his ensign, his plan was already in place, and we were waiting for the seasonal winds that would allow the plan to work.

His plan called for the Venetian navy to transport the Venetian army to the southern tip of Rhodes, the farthest point from the capital city and its impenetrable fortress on the barbed northern coast. The Turks, knowing we were coming, would send men both overland toward us and also in s.h.i.+ps around either side of the island, to get us in a pincer either while we were still at sea, or just as we reached sh.o.r.e. At this point, most of the combined forces of the rest of Christendom would appear on the western horizon as our backup, with the exception of the Holy Roman Emperor's fleet. This had already set sail and was traveling innocuously far to the south of Rhodes, under rumor they had Levantine scores to settle. Oth.e.l.lo's plan called for them to pa.s.s Rhodes entirely, then abruptly circle back and besiege the capital city up north, while it was conveniently underprotected because its garrison was mostly in the south fighting us.

WE HAD REACHED the southern tip of arid, rocky Rhodes and sent half the army to settle on a pedunculated islet attached by a land bridge to Rhodes proper. Oth.e.l.lo took command of these forces, leaving the admiral of the navy to strategize the naval component of the fighting. From our camp we could be attacked from nearly every side, but in turn, we could attack easily with artillery through a full 360 degrees.

As Oth.e.l.lo's ablest gunman and his new right hand, it was my duty to establish where among the sun-bleached crags the guns should be set up, the gunners and cannons both, and then to see to it that appropriate powder, shot, and match went where it was meant to go. I did all this efficiently; Oth.e.l.lo was pleased, and I delighted, that I seemed to have a preternatural ability to antic.i.p.ate his next requirement or tactic. We worked together so well that he often entirely ignored his aging lieutenant, Zuane da Porto.

Zuane was the tallest soldier I had ever known. Long, lanky limbs, a mop of grey hair, and a nose as fierce as an eagle's beak, he struck me as an aging wild feline who would sooner sleep than fight; but he had in his day been capable of impressive feats. I do not mean to question his honor or integrity, but I think he must have "fallen upward" into his position through family connections. He was competent but lacked all drive or ambition. Da Porto, from what I could tell, was looking forward to retirement more than he was looking forward to engaging with the Turks, and so he was just as grateful as I was that Oth.e.l.lo and I seemed almost to share one mind.

BOTH TURKISH ATTACKS-naval and overland-came nearly within the very hour Oth.e.l.lo had antic.i.p.ated, in precisely the formations he'd predicted. The first thing you learn in the heat of battle is that nothing you learn outside the heat of battle, about the heat of battle, is worth a d.a.m.n. In training you learn strategy and tactics; in real life, it is more about improvisation than anyone will ever admit. The improvisation may be informed by years of training, but it is improvisation all the same.

Our first round of artillery did astounding damage to the enemy, and for the first time in my life I saw what gunpowder and shot could do to human beings. Hardly one man in twelve of the Turkish infantry got as far as the land bridge, where our own infantry was waiting with bows and swords to prevent them coming closer.

In the sea we were not as effective: we wounded many vessels but did not destroy any; our navy set upon theirs but was rebuked in turn by their fire. This was not a great concern to us, for we knew France and the papal army were imminently coming to our aid. So focused was Oth.e.l.lo on the ground warfare that it was not until nearly sunset that he realized how very tardy our backup was. The Venetian navy was nearing exhaustion for it.

AS THE HEAVENS darkened that first night of the siege, the Turkish s.h.i.+ps backed away and headed slightly north. It was clear they would make anchor and then disgorge their manpower to meet ours on land; they had done enough damage to our navy. To my ears this was very bad news, but Oth.e.l.lo fairly beamed with confidence when it was reported to him.

"The delay of the French and the papal forces will prove to our advantage," he informed his captains (and myself and his lieutenant, the two officers who never left his side). We huddled together in the cool night, around a fire pit outside the command tent, where most of us would sleep. Evening insects of springtime sang and echoed all around us, indifferent to the havoc of war-crazed humanity. I found their presence oddly rea.s.suring. "The Turk has now been conned into believing it is only us. They think there is n.o.body but us to vanquish. And so, when our allies surprise them-as I am sure they will at sunup-they will all be exposed and unready all along the sh.o.r.e, with no time even to set up their own defensive artillery. Our allies will annihilate what is left of their navy, which is now mostly unmanned s.h.i.+ps. This is a fortuitous development."

HE LIKELY WOULD have been right about that, if the French and papal s.h.i.+ps had arrived. But they did not. Ever. In the ferocious fighting that followed all that day, I bitterly imagined them cheerfully snug at port in Ma.r.s.eilles or Genoa, their men all drunkenly toasting the demise of Venice's navy. Perhaps some of them toasted also to the health of the Holy Roman Emperor's army, should it indeed take Rhodes City. But in my enraged imagination, few of them cared much about that part of the plan: the important thing was that the armed forces of their powerful neighbor Venice would end up in tatters, having been gulled into a battle we could not win alone.

IT WAS LATE afternoon on the second day of engagement, and we were in trouble. We were nearly out of powder and completely out of arrows; what was left of our navy managed to protect the army from seaward attacks, but there were few such attacks anyhow, as now most of their fire and steel was attacking us on land. We had cornered ourselves on our rocky hillock, barely keeping the Turks from reaching the land bridge. The smell of blood and pus and oozing bone marrow, the mud that's made of human innards being ground into gra.s.s and clay . . . there is no training to prepare anyone for this. The roar that never ends, that is both fear and ferocity, that is fire and steel and humanity and horses (the Turks had horses) and livestock-Oth.e.l.lo was startlingly unmoved by these horrors, being used to them for many years. I was horrified for hours, then numb, and then enraged.

The general and I were in the command tent, on the highest crag of the islet. We were both covered in grime and dirt and dust and other men's blood. The maps and charts were forgotten now; this was not the battle he had planned. "All those lives are on my conscience," he said softly, without guilt, staring out the tent flap at the front. "Somewhere, if not here, we must have a victory that justifies all the tears that mothers and the wives will shed for this."

"We must have a victory against our d.a.m.ned allies!" I hissed furiously, collecting the diagrams from the tactics table. Oth.e.l.lo looked at me, the black eyes calm in their remarkably white orbs.

"Iago, we do not know that they are foresworn. You must not hurl accusations without proof. We have no proof. They may appear on the horizon any moment, although we shan't a.s.sume it now. We must retreat while doing the greatest damage to the enemy on the way and preserving ourselves as well as possible." He saw the color rise in my face. "Are you thinking, my young ensign, that you are shamed not to see victory in your first engagement as an officer?"

"I'm thinking many things," I said tersely and placed the collected diagrams into a chest. "That is one of them."

"I think rather you have learned more than most men do in a whole lifetime of soldiering," he said, in an almost paternal tone. "When there is time for reflection, when we are safely aboard s.h.i.+p and bound west back to Venice, you and I will sit in my cabin and drink excellent wine, and you will tell me at least seven things you know now that you did not know three days ago." He held out his hand. "Are we agreed?"

His calm and confidence were contagious. I took his hand. I would follow this man anywhere. "Provided we are both alive and there is a boat to carry us," I said.

"Well now there must needs be, we have just shaken on it!" the general said, with something like a chuckle. He released my hand and patted my arm. "Come along, I will show you how to make a proper retreat."

Chapter 16.

"I LIED TO YOU about the wine," Oth.e.l.lo said. "It is not excellent. In fact, it's swill."

"It is the swill of the G.o.ds," I said heartily, and downed the contents of the wooden cup in one huge swallow that burned the back of my throat. The whole cabin reeked nauseatingly of valerian, used as a disinfectant on my arm. "And is this indeed your cabin, General?"

We were not on his s.h.i.+p; his s.h.i.+p had gone down at Rhodes. We were in the captain's cabin of another gallea.s.s-the largest surviving s.h.i.+p in the fleet, with the largest captain's quarters, which Oth.e.l.lo and the captain were sharing. All officers were crammed together into cabins and all enlisted men into the berths. There were enough surviving soldiers that the surviving s.h.i.+ps-packed tight to start with-could hardly carry them home. The Turks were not pursuing us; word had reached them that we were merely a decoy, that the city fortress was under attack from the s.h.i.+ps of the Holy Roman Emperor.

On our nightmare retreat down to the s.h.i.+ps, I had learned what it feels like to rip apart a man's body with my sword, to have a man's entire life in blood spurt at my face and seep into my clothes; I learned that such horror does not dampen the thrill of victorious survival, that the rush of winning the battle to live comes by forcing someone else to lose. I learned the pain of an unbated blade tearing into my own flesh, although the wound was on my left arm and not deep. I had more than seven things to report to Oth.e.l.lo; I easily had seventy, and each one was known to him already.

"This is the soldiers' life," he said, almost dismissively, pressing his favorite scented kerchief under his nostrils. "The mercenaries know this. Few Venetians really understand. Now that you do, son of a merchant, will you continue in the service?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. What we had lived through was a nightmare, but such a vivid one as made any other kind of life a pallid daydream.

"Do you see why your lovely wife could not come with us?"

"Yes."

"And do you think you can go home to your lovely wife and remain a gentle husband to her, knowing what you now know of the real nature of a soldier?"

This time I hesitated. Oth.e.l.lo gave me a compa.s.sionate but knowing look.

"Yes," I said.

Oth.e.l.lo considered me a moment in the swaying lamplight, and then he smiled. "I believe you, Iago. I do not mean I believe you're right, but I believe you mean it. You will never view a masked ball the same way again."

"I never liked those b.a.l.l.s, I told you that," I said, adjusting the pungent bandage over my wound.

"Yes, you sneer at all the Venetian gentility. But now, Iago, besides sneering, you will be jealous of them."

"Are you jesting, General? I'll scorn them more than ever."

"No," Oth.e.l.lo said, philosophically smiling. "Most men in your position would, my friend. But, Iago, you are made of different stuff. You and I have the same ore. We earn our lives, we earn our dignity, and we are very proud of that-but sometimes it is tiring. We know," he said, sitting up now and looking more animated, "we know that we deserve the feather beds and eager mistresses and fine puddings and private chamber music and beautiful clothes and furniture and palaces. We know we deserve it better than any of those who actually possess those things. But we will never have those things, Iago, because it is not in our nature to pursue them. We do not really want them. We want to want them. We know, you and I, we know that if we really wanted those things, they would be ours. Somehow. We would get them. We know that we are men of such integrity and strength and drive, if we wanted something enough, we would find a way to get it. This I know about myself, and I sense it about you too, as I have sensed it about no other Venetian I have met. If only I wanted feather beds, they would be mine. And life would be so easy. But I do not want them, I cannot want them, I cannot"-here he made a contracting gesture-"I cannot make my soul small enough to be content with them. The soldier who pines for a feather bed, he will just be scornful and resentful. But the soldier who cannot pine for the feather bed, he will be jealous of the ability to pine."

I sat up, startled. "You're right," I said. I had never thought that about myself until he had said it, but the moment that he said it, I realized I'd known it all my life.

"Of course I am right." He grinned. "I told you, the same ore, you and I."

I shook my head, hardly comprehending that. "Until this battle, my life has been very sheltered compared to yours."

"I am not talking about experience, I am talking about the ore," Oth.e.l.lo said, shaking a clenched hand to emphasize the last word. "The very elemental essence of your soul. Now we will go back to Venice, and of everybody in this army, you and I, the two of us alone, will never be at peace."

I dearly hoped that wasn't true. "I intend to be at peace as soon as I am in Emilia's arms again," I told him.

He made an impatient gesture. "I do not mean that."

"I am not bloodthirsty, General. I may not crave the feather bed, but neither do I crave another battlefield."

"But if you had to pick between the two, Iago-which would it be? If you say the feather bed I know you are lying."

"That does not mean I crave a war," I argued.

"Then what do you crave?" he challenged.