“He is not lovely. When he drinks he is a devil, as you shall soon see. I despise him, I loathe him, I dislike him in the extreme. My hate for him is to hate as is hate to love. He is a pestilent and complete knave. You may not say he is lovely.”

“I didn’t mean lovely, but he seems a gentleman.”

“A gentleman who will shag your Desdemona cross-eyed. What chance will a gangling hedgehog like you have with her once she’s been with a handsome rascal like him? Now drink your wine to fortify you for the fight.”

“But it tastes of pitch.”

“Drink it. It will warm you against the night until I bring Cassio to you.”

“Which will be where?”

“At the foot of the Citadel’s walls, in the narrow alley there, you will see a lantern with a red lens in the window, the house of the courtesan Bianca. Wait in the dark, three doors from there. After he is well drunk, which will be a short time, I will put the notion in Cassio’s head that Bianca has sent for him, and the rogue will stumble that way in search of her charms. I will follow behind, out of sight. Have your sword at the ready, but make a fight of it. Once you have engaged him, I will cry havoc and bring down the watch to witness Cassio’s knavery and attest that he attacked you unprovoked.”

“So I am to slay him?”

“If it happens, it happens, all the happier for us, but you must make a fight of it. Suffer a light wound before you deliver the killing thrust.”

“A light wound?”

“Or if you fail, as your friend, I will wound you for appearances.”

Rodrigo started to speak, then paused as the old innkeeper tottered by them with an armload of wood for the fireplace.

“Speak your mind,” said Iago. “He’s deaf.”

“I think it best not to trust that he is as deaf as he appears.”

“Ah, good thought. His gait is feeble, but there’s a randy mischief in his gaze. I suspect him of doing the dark deed with my wife in my absence.”

“Really? The innkeeper, too? Friend Iago, pardon if I speak out of turn, but you should have words with her.”

“Later. Now you must find your place near Bianca’s house. I have seen Cassio drink before, and after but one cup he will be wobbly and mad for a night’s slippery adventure. Go, be there, and I will go to the officers’ post at the harbor with a fresh jug of wine.”

“I go,” said Rodrigo, making for the door, hand on the hilt of his sword. He turned and took two steps back, as if drifting with his momentum. “I am heady for the fight, Iago. I move as if in a dream.”

“Go!”

“I go!”

He went.