“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” I smile as I stroke his silky fur. The cat stretches farther, making himself an impossibly long and slender shape on the white bedspread. I lean down and kiss his sleek, black head, causing him to set up a rumbling purr. “You will miss Father, too, won’t you, my little friend?” By way of an answer he gently nudges at my hand, his whiskers tickling my palm. I clearly recall the day, more than a decade ago, when my father presented me with him. He was not a kitten, but a young cat, not yet properly grown, thin and soft as a velvet scarf. The intense blackness of his fur the perfect foil for his vivid green eyes.

“Oh, Papa! He is splendid!” I cried, taking the cat from him at once. “And his eyes are nearly the same color as my own.”

“His name is Iago,” Father told me. “So that you will always remember that no one, however handsome, however clever, is to be trusted entirely.”

I was familiar with Shakespeare’s tale of jealousy and betrayal. The cunning character of Iago and his slippery treachery were etched into my young mind.

“But I trust you, Papa.”

“A child is obliged to trust a parent. It is different when you have choice in the matter. Then it is up to your judgment.”

It had seemed a curious thing to say, but then I was only a girl, how could I have understood? Now, now I understand very well. Indeed, the Lazarus creed has enforced the lesson daily since I turned thirteen. Faith in Silence. If you do not speak your secrets aloud, others will not have the chance to betray you with them. Keep the faith, and keep silent. It is what I have been trained to do all this time. It is something I am unlikely ever to forget.