Two Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-nine Golden Ducats

I followed Shylock down walkways along narrow canals to the landing at St. Mark’s Square, where we would catch a ferry home, across the tronchetto. Since we’d left the notary with Antonio’s signed bond, Shylock had not said a word about knowing who I was. I was carrying a small cask of wine, and although it was not terribly heavy, keeping balanced on Jessica’s platforms was some challenge.

“So,” said I. “Just chopping random bits off a bloke, something you Jews do a lot then?”

“It was your idea to take his manhood, Lancelot Gobbo. No man would agree to such a bargain. An arm, a leg, a random pound of flesh, yes. I merely made salvage of your folly. I am surprised that Antonio would put his bond to it. His need exceeds appearances.”

“Why does he need to borrow funds from you? He said it is for his friend?”

“For the young man Bassanio, who proposed such a loan to me on the Rialto this morning. He says he would use it as a bride price for the lady Portia of Belmont, and Antonio staked him to it. I do not care about Antonio’s reasons, only that they have put me at advantage over him.”

“Portia? Brabantio’s daughter Portia? Brabantio is one of the richest senators in Venice, and Antonio is his partner in most heinous ventures. He would give him three thousand ducats for the asking?”

“You have not heard, then? The Montressor is dead.”

I meant to inquire when? How? But Shylock held his finger to his lips to signal silence. We had reached the ferry, which was fitted out to carry narrow handcarts across the channel. It was clear that Shylock did not know the ferryman as he had the gondolier from earlier, whom we were spurning by walking in the heat and taking this shit flat boat.

As we crossed the wide green channel, I looked for the dark shadow I had seen beneath the water before, but there were only little silver fishes, wetly doing fish things near the surface.

Shylock did not speak again until we were across the channel and in the narrow alley that would take us to the seaside of La Giudecca.

“So, what is your grudge with Antonio, little one?”

“Little one? I’m taller than you are.”

“I saw you were wearing Jessica’s boots and platforms when we were crossing in the gondola.”

“Well, this is a rubbish disguise.” I balanced the cask on my shoulder with one hand and ripped off my stupid yellow hat with my other and cast it to the ground.