I, Iago by Nicole Galland

Author:Nicole Galland
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780062200105
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

I HAD NO IDEA where I was headed. Native custom and the need for a long walk took me toward my old neighborhood, even toward my old house. Not wanting to arrive there, I diverted down a back alley with no particular intention except to avoid paying a visit to my brother. Rizardo was not somebody I could turn to for advice, encouragement, or soothing.

I realized I was at the back gate of Pietro Galinarion’s home, the man whose egg Roderigo and I had stolen all those years ago. The richest patrician in our neighborhood—although not, from what I’d heard, as rich as Roderigo himself was these days.

I wondered how Roderigo was doing. Was he still leery of his professional rival from Florence? (How ironic, we had something in common.) The last I had heard of him was Brabantio’s demeaning refusal of his proffered gift to Desdemona, before we’d left for Zara. Hopefully he was on to some new unconquerable lady by now. He must have had plenty of admirers—he was handsome and rich, and this was Venice.

I heard men’s voices laughing within Galinarion’s courtyard. There was a sound, and a small leather ball landed on the other side of the iron gate, near my feet.

“Well now you’ve done it, uncle!” I heard a man’s cheery voice cry out. Feet moved nearer to the gate, until I could see them, and the runner: he was wearing very fine clothing and presumably the latest style of collar—I’d never seen such a protruding ruff before. He was looking for, then reaching for, the ball. He noticed me. He looked familiar, but I could not place him. Until I could: It was Zanino, one of my fellow cadets from the Arsenal. He saw me through the grating of the gate, and his eyes widened.

“Iago Soranzo!” he cried out with gusto. Immediately he reached up to unlatch the tall gate. It was really not so tall, now that I was no longer ten years old. “Iago, my old friend, what a tremendous surprise! I knew your brother lived in this campo but I did not expect to see you here! What a pleasure! Come in and meet my uncle Pietro!” He already had the gate open, had grabbed my arm, and was nearly hauling me into the yard. “He’s heard about your exploits at the Academy for years! And of course everybody knows you are an aide-de-camp to General Othello.”

I had last seen Galinarion when I’d stormed out of a masquerade ball during Carnival, the night after I’d met Emilia. Now I thought of Emilia’s words from an hour earlier. Galinarion was precisely the sort of man she wanted me to be able to charm. I was nauseated by the thought of it.

On the other hand, I wanted to please her if I could. That is the plague and weakness of a devoted husband. Here was a safely private opportunity to experiment.

So when I was introduced to the senator this time, as his

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