“Saw off his knob with a dull knife while he screams for mercy,” said I, rather more loudly than Shylock’s conspiratorial tone suggested was appropriate. This bit was not so surprising to me, but in for a penny . . .

“You, boy, will be silent and carry my papers and let me do my business.”

“But—”

“I know you are not who you say you are,” whispered Shylock. “Would you have me tell them?”

“Proceed,” said I, bowing and waving him back into the fray.

“Ha!” said Shylock, returning. “The boy can be simple. I employ him as a kindness to his poor blind father. Now, Antonio, as I was saying, my moneys, with no interest, for three months, but as a jest, should you not repay me upon the date, let us say that I, take, uh—” Shylock again spooled his hand as if trying to reel in an idea floating above. “A pound of flesh, cut from your body, from a place of my choosing.” The smile.

Antonio laughed, threw his head back. “Yes! I’ll seal such a bond, and say there is much kindness in the Jew.”

“No!” said Bassanio. “You shall not seal such a bond for me. I’d rather do without the lady.”

“Fear not, my good friend.” Antonio squeezed Bassanio’s shoulder and his hand lingered there as he whispered, but loudly enough for us all to hear. “I will repay the debt a month before the bond is due and we shall all have a good laugh at the Jew’s frivolity.”

“Yes, boy,” said Shylock. “What value is a man’s flesh to me? Surely not that of a beef, or goat, or mutton. There is no profit in this for me, but only a gesture of good faith from Antonio. How say you, good Antonio?”

“Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Lead on.”

Shylock grinned, then quickly assumed his visage of serious business and trudged away, Antonio behind him. The entourage moved away from the wall in turn and I fell in beside the tallest.

“Tell me, friend. Is one of you gentlemen called Lorenzo?”

“No, Jew, but Lorenzo is a friend of ours. Why do you seek him?”

“I have a message for him.”

“We are meeting him tonight at Signora Veronica’s. You can tell me.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” said I. “I must give the message only to Lorenzo in person.”

“I am Gratiano, close friend of Lorenzo. Ask anyone, they will tell you that we are as brothers.”

“I cannot,” said I.

Gratiano bent in closely and whispered, “I know about Lorenzo and the Jew’s daughter.”

I nearly stumbled and fell off my chopines. “Fuckstockings, can no one keep a bloody secret in this steaming piss pot of a city?”

Jessica was not going to be at all pleased with her new slave.

*This actually happened in York in 1190.

†Clueless.

‡Great Britain.

Nine: Two Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-nine Golden Ducats

NINE