A group of Jews was waiting for the ferry on the docks at Giudecca. Among them I spied Tubal, and I hoped I’d be able to slide by him without notice, but the gondolier steered his boat into the very slip by which Tubal stood.

“Lancelot Gobbo,” called the old man. “I would have words with you.”

“A moment, signor,” said I. I looked to the boatman. “Meet me here, at midnight, as the bells of St. Mark’s toll.” The gondolier nodded and patted the dagger he’d hidden under his shirt.

I jumped up onto the dock by Tubal. “Aye, sirrah!” said I, snapping to attention, bloody pert and nimble spirit of mirth that I am, despite being much abused and still slightly drugged.

“You left yesterday before the gold was delivered, and the chest was short the count by a ducat.”

“Well, it was all there when I left. Did you ask the two huge Jews who were with me?”

Tubal stepped back and looked me over, from the cuffs of my raggedly cut sailcloth trousers to my now too long gabardine, to my impaled and bloodstained yellow hat.

He said, “Weren’t you taller yesterday?”

“Ate a bite of ham and woke up badly beaten and a foot shorter,” said I. “Bloody Torah’s not fucking about on that bit—a bloke needs to stay off the pig if he knows what’s good for him.”

“It would appear. Perhaps, though, you’re worn down from spending my gold.”

“Oh, sod your sodding ducat, Tubal. If you were so worried about your gold, you should have never let it out of your sight, delivered it yourself instead of trusting me and the great Hebrew oxen brothers. Look at me: I couldn’t look any more untrustworthy if I was wearing a pirate hat and being followed by a choir singing scoundrel songs. And them two—”

“Ham and Japheth are strong and take the risk to their persons even as I take the risk to my fortune. I have seen people of our tribe slaughtered over a rumor they carried plague, over being on the wrong side of a river at nightfall. A Jew does not get to be an old Jew by putting a three-thousand-ducat reward on his own head.”

“But isn’t that just what you’ve done to Shylock by funding his loan to Antonio?”

“Not so, he is protected by the law. If Shylock dies, the bond is due his heir, and since he has no sons, that would be his daughter.”

It seemed that Iago, the soldier, did not know this subtlety of the law. Once he found out, the danger would not be only to Shylock, but to Jessica.

“I nicked your ducat, Tubal, used it for good deeds, and will see it returned to you presently with interest, but for now, do bugger off, as I’ve business to attend to.”