“And yet she shall have Belmont, her Moor shall have Father’s seat on the senate council, and I shall have one of our shoddy estates on the mainland—and for my bed, some rich old prat who’s good at puzzles.”

Nerissa walked around the table, running her hand over each of three jewel chests: gold, silver, and lead. “Perhaps once your suitors have proved they have the bride price, you can pick the one you fancy and we will steer him to open the right chest.”

“That’s just the point, I don’t know which chest holds my picture, and therefore the right to my hand. Father’s wax seal is on each of the locks, we cannot test them. I might have to marry the first man with three thousand ducats who chooses a key, or I may hand the key to the man I favor, only to have him pick a chest that holds some false treasure. Father vexes me from the grave. How did he think that such a test would lead me to a better man than wed my sister when the game is so bloody random?”

“He thought to guide your choice himself, while seeming to show no favor. I heard him say that he thought Desdemona married the Moor as much to defy his will as for any love of the general. With the bride price, he could assure that your suitors would be gentlemen of means, then with the chests he could steer the one he favored to the right chest, without spurring a rebellious spirit in you.”

“A fine plan, I suppose, had he lived. I might have at least guided his choice.”

“It was all properly drawn up by lawyers.”

“Father and his lawyers. Who was it that said, ‘First, kill all the lawyers’?”

“I believe it was the little English fool so favored by the doge.”

“Oh, well, it’s true anyway.”

“Then he said, ‘And after the lawyers, a proper thinning of you poxy nobles.’ ”

“So annoying.”

“Yet comely, in his jittering way.”

“You know, Nerissa, that enormous codpiece he wears is stuffed with scrap silk.”

“That is not how he carries himself.”

“Bowlegged, you mean?” Portia giggled.

“No, like he fears nothing. The fool stands steady among merchants turned jelly-spined for fear a wrong word might affect their fortunes. Steady anyway, before he was struck down by grief. Oh, to be loved so much that a man might ruin himself for my loss. That, milady, is a lover.”

“He’s an insolent fool, Nerissa, and tiny, too; I forbid you to fancy him.”

“I don’t fancy him, but I admire his boldness. Well, I admired it. They say he left in the middle of the night, took his monkey and his giant simpleton, and sailed back to France on a merchantman. Is that the bell at the dock?”