“One more thing, Bassanio, now that we are partners. I require information.”

“I’ve told you what I know of the caskets. I know Portia fancies me, what more—”

I raised my hand to silence him. “A month ago three of your friends went to the apartments of the English fool and took away the great simpleton and his monkey, do you know of this?”

“Aye, I sent Gratiano and the two Sals to fetch the giant and his monkey. They put them on a ship to Marseilles. Bought passage for them in the cargo hold.”

“And your friends actually did that? The natural left Venice unharmed?”

“Well, yes, he left unharmed, but that was the ship.”

“That was the what ship?”

“That was the ship taken last month by the Genoans at Curzola. All the passengers are in a Genoan prison being held for ransom. Word is all over the Rialto. There was a prominent Venetian merchant onboard with the other passengers.”

“So the giant is in a Genoan prison?”

“He was listed as a hostage on the ransom demand that arrived with the news only a few days ago.”

“Fuckstockings!” said I.

Bassanio left me on the landing, cursing in the night, still holding Lorenzo’s note from Jessica.

* It’s AD 1299. “Around the World” hasn’t been invented yet.

Eleven: Siren Ascending

ELEVEN

Siren Ascending

CHORUS:

Gondola knifes through vasty night

Past dying stars of lantern light

And distant cries of tart’s delight

Ride drunken songs to bawdy heights.

Beneath a bridge doth stand the fool,

Crafting plans to free young Drool.

By stealth or guile or cutting throats,

No plots commence without a boat.

“Fuckstockings, I have no boat,” I said to the night. And no money even to pay the ferryman to take me back to La Giudecca. I’d hoped to use the ducat I’d taken from Tubal’s chest for fare and other expenses, but in a fit of bloody bollock-brained stupidity, I’d given it to the landlady to shore up the reputation of a poor, unjustly maligned fool.

Poor fool. Poor heartbroken fool. The fall from king to beggar was but a tender tumble compared to losing my love. Now, for lack of a penny, my reason to live, my revenge, would wither?

I think not! Bassanio could advance me coin for dirty deeds yet to be delivered. I made my way up the stairs from the landing, across the courtyard and through the entrance, where Charity had yet to return. I nodded to the ruffian at the door, now that we were mates, and spotted Bassanio holding court amongst a gang of his friends, Lorenzo and the two Sals among them.

“Need to have a word with Bassanio,” said I to the doorman.