Nathan Fox- Dangerous Times, page 20
‘This is my message,’ Lodovico stated in a flat voice. Othello broke the seal and Nathan observed the tremor in his hands as he did so. After he had quickly scanned the page, the general broke into laughter – the kind of laughter that strikes a chill in the hearts of sane men.
‘My lord, what is it?’ Desdemona whispered in fear.
Othello looked directly at her, a look of contempt on his face. ‘Why, my dear, it is nothing. It appears I am recalled to Venice and Michael Cassio is to be commander in my place.’
Nathan almost dropped the plates he was piling up. There was a shocked silence, then Othello began to chuckle maniacally again.
‘You see, my dear,’ he continued venomously, ‘the Council of Venice, in my absence, has decided I am not fit to command. Perhaps it is because I am black and have not those soft parts of conversation that courtiers have – or it could be that I am not as young as I was – or it could be the curse of marriage!’ He spat these last words at Desdemona and tears appeared in her eyes.
‘I am glad,’ Desdemona said brokenly. ‘This place is cursed. Now we can go back to Venice and be happy.’ With a violent burst of rage, Othello reared out of his chair and struck Desdemona a stinging blow across her face. She reeled backwards into Iago. Marie screamed and Nathan dropped his plates. Pearce shouted a protest as he advanced towards Othello, but Desdemona held up a hand to stop him.
She steadied herself on her feet. ‘I did not deserve that, my lord,’ she said quietly and with great dignity. Then she turned and left, refusing Emilia’s offered arm.
Lodovico stared at Othello with cold disdain.
‘My lord, this would not be believed in Venice. Is this the noble Moor who has the respect of the Council? Are you mad to strike your wife in such a manner?’
Othello seemed disorientated and spoke as if from far away.
‘Sir, I am commanded home. I obey the mandate and will return to Venice.’ He looked past Lodovico to Pearce. ‘Cassio, you are welcome to Cyprus and its goats and monkeys . . .’
Suddenly his voice seemed to strangle in his throat and he lunged backwards, his body in a great arch, and fell to the floor, sending chairs flying. There he lay, uttering strange noises and twitching. Nathan ran towards him but Iago took command.
‘Stand back, please! It is the epilepsy. I have seen it before. This is the second fit he has had in as many days.’ With that, he produced a leather strap from his belt and forced it between Othello’s teeth.
‘Is this a recent illness?’ Lodovico asked with concern.
‘No, my lord.’ Iago was struggling to hold Othello down. ‘The general has suffered from fits for many years. But until now only he and I knew of his ailment.’
In an instant Nathan understood why Othello kept Iago by him and refused to see the flaws in the man. The ensign must have nursed his general through many such fits and he had kept his secret well.
Servants were summoned and, once the general had stopped shaking and seemed to be quiet, he was carried up to his room. Pearce and Marie left with Lodovico, and Nathan began to clear up the broken plates.
He noticed that Desdemona’s handkerchief was lying on the floor under the table, but Emilia immediately retrieved it. Nathan watched as she ran after her husband and furtively pressed it into his hand. Iago’s half-smile of satisfaction caused Nathan a pang of concern. What purpose could Iago have for Desdemona’s handkerchief? Nathan wondered.
After he had disposed of the broken crockery, he raced upstairs to the general’s room. As he entered, Othello was vomiting into a bowl held by Iago.
‘May I help the general, sir?’ Nathan enquired, full of concern.
‘No!’ Iago spoke roughly to him. ‘This fit must have its quiet course or he will break out into savage madness.’
The general vomited again and Iago relented a little. ‘Fetch me a wet cloth, boy! I need to wipe the general’s face!’
Nathan hurtled into the anteroom and grabbed a small towel, dunking it in the bowl of water on the stand. He gave it to Iago, who leaned the general back and began to wipe his face. ‘Dispose of the contents of the bowl, boy!’ Nathan took up the bowl and held his breath all the way to the nearest privy. The deed done, he returned to Othello’s room but, at the sound of voices from within, he paused and listened.
Othello was gabbling in a strange guttural voice. ‘Have you heard anything? Tell me, honest Iago!’
‘Nay, nothing yet.’ Iago’s reply was quiet and calming, ‘But you shall see some proof soon.’
Nathan had no doubt that Iago had devised some further evil against John Pearce, so he beat a hasty retreat to his partner’s room to warn him.
Pearce was pacing the floor once more and Marie looked distressed. Nathan told them of the conversation he had just overheard.
‘What happens now?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Pearce responded honestly. ‘Lodovico told me some sad news that contributed to the Doge’s decision to recall Othello. Apparently Desdemona’s father has died – they say of a broken heart.’
Nathan bowed his head, remembering the last time they had both seen Brabantio, outside his house. He had been devastated by his daughter’s marriage.
‘But . . .’ Pearce continued, ‘it must be kept a secret. Lodovico does not wish to upset Desdemona further.’
‘Now you have been appointed in Othello’s place, do you have to take Cyprus?’ Marie asked anxiously.
Pearce smiled ruefully. ‘Apparently not. I am to stay here and await orders. It seems that the furore caused by Drake’s action in Cadiz has caused the Doge to think again about the retaking of Cyprus. He feels the time is not yet right. I suspect he knows that the full fury of Spain will now be turned against England and we will not have the manpower spare to guard Cyprus for the Venetians. Nathan, tomorrow I must visit the barracks and speak to the men. If the general is well enough, ask him if you may accompany me.’
‘I shall offer myself as a spy,’ Nathan said eagerly, ‘to report back on your actions. That should please Othello.’ Pearce smiled appreciatively. ‘You truly are beginning to think like one of Sir Francis Walsingham’s agents.’
* THE EVIL PACT *
The next morning, Nathan knocked quietly on Othello’s door and a sombre voice told him to enter. Othello was sitting staring out of his window. He smelt of sweat and vomit and had not been shaved that morning. His eyes were bloodshot and watery and they turned upon Nathan with a look of sadness.
‘Sir, I come to offer you a service.’
‘What is it, Marco? What service can you offer one who has fallen so low as I?’
All the fighting spirit seemed to have left the once magnificent general.
‘Let me accompany Signor Cassio on his inspection of the barracks today and I shall be your faithful eyes and ears in all matters.’ Nathan tried to sound conspiratorial.
Othello’s eyes flashed some spark of interest. ‘You would do me this service?’ he croaked. ‘You would spy on your former master – for me?’
Nathan nodded. ‘It grieves me, sir, to see you thus and I would do what I can to help you.’
Othello walked unsteadily towards him and put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. ‘I shall not forget this.’
Nathan bowed and raced down to the courtyard.
As he mounted a horse alongside Pearce he reflected that he was heartily sick of crying women and mad generals and, in the soft haze of the morning, he breathed deeply, as if to rid himself of the suffocating atmosphere of the palace.
Pearce had assembled a party of officers to accompany them on their trip to the barracks. The events of last night had reached the men’s ears and they were confused. It was only two days since the general had dismissed Lieutenant Cassio, but now this man was replacing Othello.
Pearce had anticipated that the soldiers would be in this frame of mind and he addressed them firmly.
‘Men, the general is ill, and orders have come from the Doge stating that he must return to Venice. I am to command in his place. The general is not in disgrace – he must rest and the Council needs his services in Venice.’
Several of the men nodded and the riders clattered out of the courtyard. Nathan looked up towards the balconies and caught a glimpse of Iago, a look of pure evil on his face. What plot does he hatch now? thought Nathan, as they rode out into the streets of the town.
It was no more than ten minutes’ ride to the barracks and when they arrived the sentries were barely visible. One man was almost dozing in the growing warmth of the morning; another was chatting to a passing girl. Inside the gates, Nathan could see that many of the men were just lounging around aimlessly.
Pearce’s face darkened.
‘Hoy! You there!’ he shouted. ‘Make yourselves ready for a command inspection! Move yourself, man!’
The sentries looked shocked. They blinked at Pearce – they barely knew him.
‘I said, MOVE!’ Pearce roared. ‘Go tell your company to assemble in the square, at double-quick time.’ A soldier hastened off to spread the news.
Pearce strode up to the top of the steps leading to the chapel and stood waiting.
The men began to pour out of the buildings, some half dressed and pulling on boots and jerkins as they went. Tide after tide of soldiers gathered in front of the steps until the whole square was a sea of heads. There was a silence as the confused army waited for Pearce to speak.
Nathan marvelled at the way in which Pearce took command as though he had done so all his life. First he praised the men for their action against the Turks, then he rebuked them for their decline into slovenly ways. His delivery was so powerful – so persuasive – that by the end of his speech, the packed square was filled with men hanging their heads in shame. I should like to have seen John when he was acting on the stage! Nathan thought, with a surge of pride at the performance.
The speech finished with a command from Pearce that all men should wash, shave and clean their quarters. He would inspect the barracks in one hour. There was an almighty stamp of boots in unison as they came to attention, then stampeded in all directions in an effort to meet the demands of their new commander.
Once the men had dispersed, Pearce allowed himself a sigh of relief and a shaky grin.
‘That was a difficult job, Nathan,’ he whispered. ‘I would not care to do it again. Perhaps you could go and find us some ale? I have a great thirst now.’
Nathan gladly obeyed and went to find the stores. He poked his head around a doorway, and his face broke into a wide grin as he recognized his old friend Zeno.
‘Marco, me old mate!’ Zeno was his usual jovial self. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve come to get Lieutenant Cassio a drink of ale.’
‘Ah!’ Zeno winked. ‘I should think so, after all that speechifying. Thirsty work, shouting at a square full of men.’ He bustled about, drawing some ale from a barrel into a pewter jug. ‘So what’s this new commander like, then?’ he enquired over his shoulder.
‘He’s a good man. A great fighter. Very fair.’ Nathan spoke enthusiastically.
Zeno cackled. ‘We all hear’d that he was a bit of a ladies’ man. In fact . . .’ his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘we all hear’d that he was involved with the general’s new wife. I heard that Captain Roderigo telling some of the other officers that he knew that the general’s wife and your master were cheatin’ on her husband. He seemed awful het up about it.’
‘It’s rubbish, Zeno!’ Nathan flared up in Pearce’s defence. ‘Lieutenant Cassio is not involved with the general’s wife.’
‘Ah . . .’ Zeno seemed disappointed. He changed the direction of the conversation. ‘What’s all this about the general bein’ ill, eh? What’s all that about?’
‘He’s sick in the head, Zeno,’ Nathan whispered.
‘Ah.’ The old soldier didn’t seem too surprised and handed over the jug of ale and two pewter cups. ‘Well, this is a pretty state of affairs, anyhow. Your lieutenant better watch his back.’ The old man spat on the first two fingers of his right hand, to ward off the evil eye. ‘I’ll say a Mass for him – if’n I ever gets to church in the near future.’ And he cackled again.
When the barracks inspection was completed, the officers were gathered and Pearce efficiently set about drawing up a rota of duties and apportioning jobs. Nathan sat quietly in the corner of the room, listening and learning, once again amazed by Pearce’s ability to assume command.
He told John of his admiration as they rode back to the palace alone. Pearce laughed.
‘Play-acting, Nathan. Just good play-acting. But you knew that.’
Back at the palace, Marie was waiting anxiously for their return.
‘What is the problem?’ Pearce asked as he dismounted.
Marie shot him a warning glance. ‘Upstairs, my lord. I would talk with you privately.’
Once inside John’s room, Marie pointed at the bed. There, for all to see, was the embroidered handkerchief that Marie had given to Desdemona.
‘I found it this morning.’ Marie looked at Pearce accusingly.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Pearce, bewildered.
‘It was tucked under your pillow. Has she been visiting you?’ Marie blurted out.
Nathan gasped at his sister’s ridiculous question.
‘What is this folly!’ laughed Pearce.
But Marie refused to be dismissed. ‘Have you been comforting Desdemona?’
‘Well, have you?’ said a deep, menacing voice from behind them.
They all turned to see Othello standing unsteadily in the doorway. It was not possible to read the expression on his face. His eyes were blank and staring.
‘Has my wife been in your room?’ He whispered the words with a kind of horror and Nathan felt himself trembling.
Pearce stood firm. ‘No, my lord. Never. I have no knowledge of how this handkerchief came to be here.’ ‘My lord . . .’ Nathan wanted to tell Othello that he saw Emilia give the handkerchief to her husband and he was sure that Iago was involved, but the general would have none of it.
‘BE SILENT!’ he roared.
‘But, sir—’ Nathan tried to protest but Othello grabbed him by his arm and threw him out of the door. ‘THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, MARCO! BEGONE!’
Nathan found himself sprawled at the feet of the vile Iago, who was standing outside the door, smirking. ‘You!’ said Nathan accusingly. ‘You put the handkerchief there! I saw you with it!’ Nathan lunged at Iago, but the man was too strong. Iago clamped a rough hand over Nathan’s mouth and pinned his arms to his side.
‘Have a care, you little rat!’ he hissed in Nathan’s ear. ‘You may think you have fooled the general – worming your way into his affections – but my friendship with Othello has lasted many years. You may not speak slander about me – the general will not have it. Keep your mouth shut, or it will be the worse for you.’
Nathan struggled, but Iago only held him tighter. Suddenly Othello came out of Pearce’s room and looked at his ensign. His face made Nathan’s blood run cold. There were flecks of spit at the corners of his mouth and his eyes were glazed.
‘Let both deeds be done,’ he said to Iago hoarsely. ‘You to do yours and I to do mine.’ Then he turned and wandered down the corridor, as if in a trance.
Iago flung Nathan back through the open door into Pearce’s room.
‘You may have your sewer-spawn back, Lieutenant Cassio. I care not for his stench, and the general has no further need of him!’ He laughed and followed his general, leaving Pearce, Nathan and Marie in a state of shock.
‘This is truly madness. We are no longer safe,’ Pearce announced. ‘Tonight we shall leave as planned. The ship I selected is still at berth in the dock. The horses are in the stables. Our bags are packed. I shall leave written instructions for Lodovico and Duke Montano, to be delivered after we have left. Nathan, accompany Marie to her room. Marie, lock yourself in. We must be ready to leave at sunset.’
Bit by bit, during that afternoon, Nathan ferried items of their baggage down to the stables. He did not want to be carrying things when they came to escape. He might need his hands free to defend himself.
He thought constantly about Iago’s threats. He had no doubt that the man would consider a servant boy’s life very cheap and that both he and Pearce were in great danger now. As for Othello, there was no knowing what a man in his state might do.
The palace buildings were as silent as the grave. Nathan found the Mediterranean siesta irritating. Afternoons back in England had always been the liveliest part of the day, especially in the playhouse.
Once it began to get dark, Nathan went up to Pearce’s room. John was sharpening his sword and Nathan went to fetch Marie.
Without a word, the three of them crept down to the courtyard. The palace servants were beginning to stir and there were stewards coming up the stairs with lighted candles to rouse their masters. There was no time to lose.
In the stables, all was pitch black, save for some faint light coming in from the open door. It was enough for them to feel their way to the stalls where their horses were waiting. Nathan pulled out all the baggage from the hiding place and they began to strap things to the saddles.
‘Stand away from the horses.’ The malevolent whispered command came from a man silhouetted in the doorway. Pearce slowly drew his sword and pushed Marie behind one of the stalls. Nathan crouched down, ready to draw his knives.
‘Do as he says,’ whispered another figure, who appeared beside the first man. Nathan saw a gleam of steel in their hands.
‘They are double-armed,’ he warned Pearce and there was a low laugh from one of the figures ahead.
Suddenly the first man lunged at Pearce, who parried successfully. There was plenty of space in the stables, but it was dark and at the first clash of steel the horses reared back in their stalls.
