Sofia
I can tell you, it was very gratifying, especially in such company.“One woman in particular seemed pleased with me. I, at least, was impressed by her. It was not that her clothes and ornaments outshone all the rest—they did, indeed, but to describe her dress would not tell you what impressed me most. Neither was she the most beautiful woman there, being past her prime. She must once have had remarkable features but she is now nearly forty—at least old enough to be my mother. Still, her skin was flawless, as cool and white as ivory and, if she dyed her hair to cover gray, she used some magical formula I know not of that lets a natural sheen come through. She wore it swept up and back to display her high forehead and fine cheekbones to the best effect.
“And yet, for all of that, it was her eyes that were most remarkable. She plucked her brows into narrow crescents. And under them, wore copious amounts of black kohl around the lashes, as is popular among these Turks—my master made me put on all too much before we left. But those black eyes cut through any amount of antimony and pierced the heart. The kohl is, perhaps, a sheath, for otherwise those eyes would be like a dagger pushed up against the ribs, demanding obedience or instant death.
“And they did obey her—instantly—all of them. The girl who had uncovered me was now instructed to make me turn, walk, and then move toward the mistress, which she did immediately. The girl did not play tired or coy for her mistress, as Maria might have done to vex me. I might have had to ask again, raise my voice, or even stamp my foot to get such a response from some of our Venetian domestics. But the woman did it all with a glance, or at most, a word in undertone.
“Even the huge man in the white hat. He could have snapped that woman’s neck with his two hands, but he scraped the floor with his hand when he bowed to her and, had he had a tail, it would have wagged with delight when she complimented him on his taste. If she can rule such a mountain of a man, I would not be surprised to learn that she is mistress of the world.”
I did not venture to explain to Baffo’s daughter that eunuchs could be white as well as black and that her admiration of the man was again misplaced. She was enjoying her recitation far too much to be served such disappointment.
“With a flick of the bangles on her wrist, this incredible woman at last bade me approach her cushions. She felt my limbs, examined my teeth, my ears, my neck. Finally, she had me remove my jacket and shirt so she could satisfy herself concerning my... Well, Signor Veniero. I felt no shame in front of her, even with that big man present, but in front of you—you must just imagine how I was examined further. Rest assured that no horseflesh ever received closer scrutiny before a purchase. One would think she was buying me for her own pleasure.”
I did not tell Madonna Baffo the tales I had heard of the Sultan’s harem, which would not put that purpose beyond possibility. I sat in glum silence which Sofia remarked and scolded.
“No, Signor Veniero. I must tell you I was flattered. To be considered by such a woman! That she did not ignore me altogether or dismiss me to the gutter with just a flick of her wrist...!”
And now her voice swelled to ecstasy as she swore, “By Saint Mark and by the Blood of God as well, I tell you I have no greater ambition in this life than to belong to that woman! Such discrimination! Such power I have never seen in any woman! No, not in any man, either. I would be content to mend her clothes and wash her linen just to be near her, just to stand an outside chance that some of that power might filter down to me.
“I pray I do not scare away good fortune by speaking it aloud, but I think she may take me. She took my hand in hers before I was led away. She took my hand, patted it and smiled, saying something as she did which, had it been in Venetian, might well have been, ‘We shall be great friends, my dear, you and I.’”
XXII
Some sound other than Madonna Baffo’s voice had made its way inside my head halfway through her last burst of eloquence, but I had pushed it impatiently aside. It came again now, louder and much clearer, and could not be ignored. Someone was coming down the hall toward the room where we sat and now they were at the door.
“By God!” Baffo’s daughter exclaimed. “If they find you here...”
In her confusion, she did not stop to think that even a whisper would confirm their suspicions. And in my confusion, I did not think to try to save her. But it was no use trying to save even myself. I caught the window ledge in a bound, but one leg still dangled into the room. It was grasped about the ankle and wrestled to the floor.
My fall knocked all the wind from me. I cannot have been senseless for more than two beats of the heart, but the next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back. On top of me sat the weight of the young slave merchant and in his hands was a heavy blade, aimed straight for my heart.
“Isa! Isa! Wait!” I heard the older man shout. “It is the young Christian who visited us today.”
“I shall cut his heart out first and circumcise him later.” Somehow I was getting the gist of this conversation. Profanity, as I have already noted, comes easiest.
“But wait. He may have important friends. We do not know. It may go ill for