The Nature of Blood (10 page)

I SAT on the side of the bed and watched as Margot packed
her suitcase. I wondered if I should tell her about Mama's strange behaviour,
but I decided against doing so. It seemed better that Margot should leave
without this additional burden. As she folded her clothes, Margot spoke loudly
and with the recently acquired confidence that her new friends seemed to have
instilled in her. 'You see, Eva, in spite of everything that we have lost,
they still hate us, and they will always hate us.' I did not want my sister
to see me cry. I looked at the window where the snow was banking into the
corners and beginning to obscure the view. 'Papa must not wear spectacles
in the street because they love to hit such people straight in the face. And
men will probably start to ask you to prostitute yourself for them. They pretend
it is a joke, but there is more to it than this.' Margot closed the lid of
the suitcase and sat next to me on the bed. For a moment, she followed my
gaze and looked up and out of the window. 'You see, in some ways it is easier
for us women.' Margot shrugged her shoulders. "There is no trouser check,
for one thing.' I wondered if Margot might talk now about her boyfriend. I
knew that she must have one. But Margot stood up. 'You too must go into hiding.
But we mustn't be apart for too long.' I tried to smile, but I couldn't. 'Peter
says it is painful to have to walk on earth that is saturated with the blood
of our people. He says we should have seen what was coming.' I looked at Margot.
'Peter?' For a moment our eyes locked. And then Margot pushed me back on to
the bed and started to laugh.

Yesterday they beat me. Having wiped my tear-stained face, Mama insisted that,
in future, she would walk with me to school and then meet me again at the
end of the day. And so this morning we had set out together, with Mama tightly
clutching my hand. I looked around as we passed through a grubby courtyard,
a short-cut that Mama was introducing me to. The truth was, I was ashamed
that I had let Mama know the true nature of my distress. I had run home, my
face streaked with tears, but once she had cleaned me up, Mama simply sat
me down and changed the subject. Three boys had pushed me and kicked me and
called me names, but it appeared that all Mama wanted to talk about were her
daughters. About how different we were from each other, and how I was the
more studious and determined, and Margot the more fanciful. And then, when
Margot returned from her club, the three of us sat together and Mama told
us about the problems of young girls, and how they differed from the problems
of young boys. And then, looking closely at Margot, she began to share with
us her understanding of the many difficulties of love, and offer advice as
to how best to cope with boys. She even spoke about Papa's courting of her,
but this was a story that she had related to us on many occasions, although
Mama seemed to have forgotten this fact. As the candles burnt low, and Mama
began to revel in the warm glow of her private memories, it began to upset
me that she never once referred back to the fact that I had just been beaten.
Finally, after Mama's anecdotes and advice had run their course, and as Margot
and I began to make our way to bed, she looked at me and confirmed that, from
tomorrow, she would be accompanying me on both the journey to school and the
journey back home at the end of the day, but she mentioned this as though
it were an afterthought.

We passed out of the filthy courtyard and turned right on to the main street.
On this broad thoroughfare the destitute former musicians gathered, and all
day the place was awash with mournful song. In a week or two, I knew that
most would have been forced to sell their instruments, and they would be reduced
to merely standing on street corners. But there were always new musicians
to take their places, with old violins wedged hopefully under their chins.
Mama quickened her pace and then, from a small alley, a column of men swung
into view. They walked in perfect step under the assiduous scrutiny of a pair
of youths in uniform. The prisoners' faces were emaciated, the details of
their crimes almost certainly invented. Mama tugged at my hand to tear my
attention away from these men. But what else was there to look at? The skies
were grey, the buildings dull, and the other people who walked these streets
did so with their hands pushed deeply into their pockets and their eyes peeled,
searching for crumbs and morsels that they knew did not exist. All about me,
shoulders were habitually hunched and hats were worn with sad resignation,
for there was nothing rakish or jaunty about people's lives. What else was
I to look at besides this column of prisoners?

As we neared the school, we passed the place where the boys had cornered me
on the previous day. Assaults in the street were becoming increasingly frequent,
and even decently dressed people were being waylaid by uniformed brutes and
ordered to scoop up dog filth with their bare hands, or lick clean the windows
of a nearby shop, or simply hand over their money and valuables. Only the
previous week I had witnessed the sight of a lady in a fur coat being forced
to remove her lower underwear and scrub the icy streets with the garment.
She was then made to put the dirty wet rag back on and proceed on her way.
Mama knew about such incidents, but they were not to be talked about. And
then something had happened to me. It appeared that even this was not to be
talked about. Just before we reached the school, a uniformed man passed by.
Mama stopped, and there was silence. In fact, everybody stopped until this
man had passed from sight, and then, as though being awoken from a hypnotic
trance, we all resumed our lives.

At school I always sat near the window, for, when the teacher was not spying
on me, I liked to look outside. From my classroom window I could see the street,
and I could therefore follow the lives of the people down below. Mama had
warned me about dreaming at school, but these days she did not seem as interested
in how well my studies were going. We both knew that I would soon have to
leave this school. Last night, when talking to Margot and me, she again told
us of how she had given up her studies at the university to marry this serious
young doctor. He was a young man of medium height, bespectacled and shy, a
man who dreamt of a future he could not afford. She told us of his diligence,
his determination to learn to dress himself in the fashion of this big city,
and his desire to secure for himself and his family a life of leisured comfort
and happiness. And in spite of her parents' feelings, Mama had insisted on
marrying this man, and, having done so, she watched her own future walk away
from her. Mama paused at this point, and she looked closely at her daughters.
And then she reminded us that although she loved this shy, bespectacled man,
she had prepared her own girls for something else. Hadn't she always encouraged
us to dream beyond marriage and children? The world would be ours in a way
in which it could never be so for her generation. Mama reminded us of this.

It began to snow. I looked out of the classroom window and watched the ground
receive a thin sprinkling of what appeared to be sugar. However, I knew that,
should I taste it, the snow would be bitter. I watched people huddling under
arches and stairwells, with a profound fear of the forthcoming winter etched
clearly across their faces. In the summer, I would look out at this same street
and see men with abandoned jackets and loosened ties lounging about idly.
The windows to the apartments would be thrown wide open and the curtains tied
back, creating wide holes that were desperate to suck in fresh air. I imagined
these same windows at dusk, after I had left school and gone home, beginning
to close, one by one, a thousand eyelids slowly shutting. But today, as the
snow continued to fall, they were all tightly sealed.

This morning, before I left for school, I heard Papa shout at Mama. I was lying
half-asleep in bed, but I clearly heard him asking her for something that
he claimed she had taken. And then I heard Mama begin to cry, and then Papa
evidently discovered whatever it was that he had been looking for. There followed
a quiet period in which I assumed that Papa was begging Mama for her forgiveness,
which I knew she would eventually give. I rolled over. Relations between them
were not good. A week earlier, they had left their two daughters and gone
together to the woods. On their return, they had told their daughters that
today they had buried some precious family objects beneath a large oak tree,
and that Margot would have to go into hiding. Margot looked dumbfounded. Both
she and I had assumed that she would be coming with us to the small apartment,
and, in a peculiar way, we were both looking forward to this new enterprise.
But a grim-faced Papa went on and reminded us that, these days, people were
hiding in every imaginable place. People were building tunnels under hallways,
widening cellars, creating hiding places inside furniture, in woodsheds, in
fact anywhere. Until these ugly times passed by, it was better to be safe.
In less than a week, we would have to leave the four-storey house for the
apartment on the other side of town. It made sense that we should take precautions
now, for after the move it might be too difficult. Luckily, Mama and Papa
had found a family who would take Margot. They were still looking for a family
who would take me. And then, before either daughter had a chance to protest,
a tired-looking Mama and Papa left the room together.

The Mama who met me at the end of the school day seemed suddenly older. A week
had passed by and nothing further had been mentioned about Margot's imminent
departure. As we began to walk home, a fatigued Mama started to speak, but
she spoke in a manner which suggested that she was wandering in her mind.
I knew immediately that today was the day we would lose Margot. 'Remember,
Eva, you are a guest in this country. And you must never speak with your hands.'
Mama stopped and began to demonstrate. A man whose pride remained intact,
despite his unshaven face and his unwashed skin, looked on. Only in his expensive
clothes, now filthy, could I see the quality of his past. He stared, and for
a brief moment his eyes met mine. Mama did not notice as she finished her
demonstration. And then, without warning, she began to walk away from me.
I turned from the man and chased after Mama, who by now was speaking aloud
to herself. 'Eva, where in the world is the United States? Where is Russia,
even? One day you are neighbours, the next day they spit on you. We are stupid
for being proud to be what we are not, do you understand? Stupid.' I took
Mama's hand, but she did not seem to notice. 'In this world, you do not shoot
people without a reason. There has to be a reason. How is it possible to be
so angry with people who have done you no wrong?' The afternoon light was
prematurely fading, and the snow continued to fall.

Margot pulled on her coat and picked up her suitcase. The man took the envelope from Papa, tucked it into his pocket, and said that he would wait downstairs. 'No,' said Papa. 'There will be no farewell scenes. This is only a temporary measure.' Papa quickly kissed Margot, and then Mama hugged her eldest daughter. Over Mama's shoulder, Margot winked at me. And then she was gone. That night, I lay in bed and listened to a volley of dull thwacks as, somewhere, a restless housewife beat the dust from a hanging rug. But above this sound, and dominating the night, was the sobbing of Mama, who had now lost one daughter. Through the window I could see that it had stopped snowing, although the sill remained thickly crusted.

ON GOOD Friday 1480, the Christian faithful of Portobuffole
began to congregate in large numbers at the Church of St Marie of Settimo.
The altar had been carefully dusted many times over, and the crucifix was
covered with a black veil. Three purple cushions had been placed on the altar
steps, and the failing light at the end of the day evoked the darkness which
covered the earth during the death of Jesus. As ever, the service was both
austere and moving, and towards the conclusion the priest joined his hands
together for prayer and exhortations. The first oration was said for 'Omnipotent
God', and then six more followed.

– For the Pope.

– For the clergy, the virgins, the widows and the people of
God.

– For the Most Serene Doge of Venice.

– For the catechumens.

– For the sick, the imprisoned, the travellers and the
navigators.

– For the heretics and schismatics.

And then there was a brief pause, and the voice of the priest changed in tone, in order that he might fully capture the attention of the faithful.

'We also pray for the malicious Jews so that You, God, can take away the venom of their spirits so that they may come to recognize Jesus Christ.'

Before these words had time to settle, there was a call for one last oration for the salvation of these Jews.

'Eternal, omnipotent God, who does not refuse mercy to the Jews, grant us prayers that we might pray for the blindness of these Jews so that, recognizing the light of your truth in Christ, they may soon be taken from their darkness.'

At the conclusion of their Good Friday service, the Christian
faithful of Portobuffole, their souls contented, spilt out on to the dark
streets of the town and began to wander home, but not before casting a stern
look at the houses of those who carried evil in their hearts.

Easter passed, but left trouble in its wake. The doge's representative, Andrea Dolfin, felt obliged to mention, in his periodical report to the
Council of Ten,
that a certain discontent had broken out in the town, but he did so in a manner designed not to raise alarm. The doge was consumed with problems in the Orient, with the Pope, and with the extension of the Most Serene Republic's business affairs inland; civil disorder in his domain was the last thing that the doge desired. However, much to Andrea Dolfin's disappointment, the ferment would not seem to pass, and the situation was further exacerbated by the fact that the frightened Jews were now refusing to open their banks. People came from surrounding regions both to pawn and to redeem their personal belongings, but, upon discovering this Jewish recalcitrance, they voiced their opinion that the Jews should respect their commitments and not be permitted to live outside the law. Andrea Dolfin ordered the civic council to meet, but, before they could do so, the Jews, fearing that they were about to suffer physical assault, returned to their work. However, the reopening of the banks failed to quell the wave of anti-Hebrew sentiment.

The unresolved question of the abduction and murder of the blond beggar child, Sebastian New, was clearly a matter so serious that the public was not going to let this issue pass until justice had been served. However, as a Venetian aristocrat, Andrea Dolfin could not allow a civic council comprised principally of plebeians to by-pass Venetian authority and take reckless measures against the Jews, which they were threatening to do. This would serve to enrage not only the doge, but also the
Grand Council
of Venice. Andrea Dolfin had little choice but to act swiftly and according to the law, therefore he decided to order the chief of police and his army into the houses of the Jews.

Servadio,
usurer, was taken.

Sara,
his wife, was put under arrest along with the children,

Fays,
their tutor, and
Donate,
the servant boy

Moses, usurer, was taken.

Rebecca,
his wife, was arrested.

Giacobbe
from Colonia, Germany, was taken.

Four 'wanted' men
could not be found and they were declared
fugitives.

To guarantee the legality of the trial against the Jews, Andrea Dolfin insisted that a lawyer be engaged on their behalf, whose duty would be to explain fully anything that they could not follow. The Most Serene Republic of Venice not only boasted of its severe justice, but was also proud of its flawless procedure. No one could be arrested unless there was already evidence against them, and no one could be condemned to death unless his crimes could be verified by proof or confession. The Republic had faith in the Latin inscription that was to be found over the entrance to the courtroom in the Doge's Palace in Venice.

Before everything, always investigate scrupulously to find the truth with justice and clarity. Do not condemn anyone without a sincere and just trial. Do not judge anyone based on suspicion, but research well and in the end find a merciful sentence. And do not do to others what you would not want done to yourself.

At the onset of the Portobuffole investigation, the accused Jews were obliged
to take an oath that they would freely volunteer the truth. If, at any point
during the course of the investigation, the judge suspected either perjury
or reticence in the accused, he could order the individual to be tormented.
Both the judge and a lawyer were obliged to attend the torture session, which
most commonly involved the employment of a mechanism known as the
strappada,
which featured a cord, a pulley, and the optional use of weights of twenty-five,
fifty, or one hundred pounds. The accused would raise his hands behind his
back and they would be tied together with the cord, which was then strung
up to the pulley firmly attached to the ceiling. He would then be hoisted
up and left hanging for an hour, the abnormal stretching and stress producing
a pain that became more atrocious with each pull. If the accused did not confess,
he would be given a few additional tugs of the cord, and weights would then
be attached to his feet. In smaller country towns, something else, such as
a live ram, might be used in place of the weights. In certain cases, the accused
could be additionally tortured with a flame or a piece of charcoal that was
placed on the bottom of his feet.

As they dragged the chief Jew, Servadio, from the Portobuffole prison well, where for two days and two nights he had been secreted, the flash of sunlight blinded him. Servadio tripped many times as they pushed him into a room where he slowly began to discern shapes and voices. The Jew was introduced to the lawyer who was deemed appropriate for people of his religion, then a piece of paper was produced and he was instructed to recite an oath.

'I, servant of God, who am a Jew; I swear on the almighty father Sabaot, and on the God who appeared to Moses in the bramble-bush, and on God Adonai the Father, and on God Eloi – I swear that, should I be guilty or a perjurer, then may I be lost among enemies, and die in an enemy land; may the land swallow me, as it did with Daton and Abiram; may plague seize me, as it did with Naaman the Syrian; may my home be deserted; may my ancestors' and my own sins fall on me; may all the curses written in Moses' and the prophets' laws rest on me; and may God curse me, as an example for everybody.'

Servadio read the written words mechanically, but with little
difficulty. He had lived an anguished life, but one he regarded as honest,
so he did not fear judgement by God. But here on earth, in the eyes of Christians,
he knew it was easy for a Jew to sin. One could sin even without knowing it.
As he looked around himself, Servadio wondered if these people realized that,
so far, no one had even accused him of a crime.

On 14 April 1480, the bell rang nine times in St Mark's Square to indicate
that the doors to the Doge's Palace were closing. The last few senators were
arriving, flushed and out of breath, and they were hurrying to avoid a fine.
The adjacent rooms were already empty and everybody was in his place. The
Most Serene Doge, the members of the
Council of Ten,
the Superintendants
of St Mark's, the Officials of the Senate, the Officials of the Commune, and
all the numerous other government officers were gathered. Business proceeded
as usual, with the recitation of letters, telegrams and petitions, and, as
was common, towards noon other issues were discussed, the order of the agenda
being determined by the importance of the matter to the republic. Andrea Dolfin
began his report with the news that the people of Portobuffole firmly believed
that during Holy Week their Jews had sacrificed an innocent Christian boy
as part of their rituals. Under normal circumstances, no one would have given
much weight to a report from Portobuffole which referred to certain accusations
by the people against their Jews. But this report went further and included
details of the recent trial of the foreigners principally involved before
the Court of Portobuffole, and the subsequent passing of death sentences against
three Jews.

The report was received in silence. Its contents worried the
Grand Council,
for this trial had already attracted much public attention. It now appeared that the popularity of the judgement had begun to cause civil unrest across the whole region, as people were becoming increasingly hostile to the Jews. The
Grand Council
had, over the years, repeatedly declared that the Jews could live in the Most Serene Republic, and that, if necessary, they would severely punish anyone who either bothered them or caused damage to their persons or their property. Clearly, the
Grand Council
would have to restate their position. Accordingly, three days later, on 17 April, the
Grand Council
drew up and dispatched a bill whose contents specifically addressed the problems at Portobuffole. It read:

With displeasure we have heard that, in our homeland, the
Jews are objects of insult, beatings and other damage because of accusations
made against the Jews of Portobuffole. Since we want the Jews to be able to
be at home in our domain without being insulted, we are furnishing the following
in writing: We desire and order that each district launch a proclamation that
no man, woman, minor or servant, either with words or actions, may either
molest, assail or provoke any known Jew. If this occurs, a punishment will
be set up for those that are of an adult age. Those younger, however, will
be punished with a whip, and the damages that they have inflicted will be
made known to their fathers, tutors and teachers. No one should be pardoned.
We intend to tolerate some bullying and maltreatment towards the Jews who
reside among us, but we want them to be able to stay and live under our domain
without being submitted to excessive damage and insults. You must all abide
by what has been said if you wish to continue to merit Our praise.

On this very same day, 17 April 1480, a long statement from Andrea Dolfin was delivered to the
Council of Ten.
Enclosed was a copy of the notes from the trial against the Jews, plus a full report of the behaviour of the three Jews – Servadio, Moses and Giacobbe – who now languished under sentence of death. It told of how they were first scornful, then resentful, then fearful when made aware of the nature and the number of testimonies against them. The report made mention of their torture, and of how they were stripped, bound and hoisted up, and of their many confessions, some taken back, some repeated, and then all eventually confirmed in front of the Court of Portobuffole. And finally, the details of the sentencing. Of how the judges had condemned them all to make honourable amends and then die in varying ways: one to be burnt alive, another trampled by four horses, and a third to be shot with arrows. Having, by means of torture, loosened the Jew's tongues to a full confession of their wickedness, the appalling details of their crime continued to cause great indignation among the people of Portobuffole, so much so that Andrea Dolfin was now begging for the intervention of the
Council of Ten
in order to preserve public order. Andrea Dolfin concluded his urgent report with a written summary of the crime, according to the Jews' own testimonies.

Everything began on a day in September during the previous year, when the Jews were celebrating a holiday known as the Feast of the Tabernacles. It was Servadio who, after a few glasses of wine, found the courage to turn to Giacobbe of Colonia and say, 'You know that, before Easter, we will need a little Christian blood for our bread. My friend, produce a young child, for you know how to do it, and in return I will give you ten ducati in cash.' Giacobbe of Colonia happily agreed, but another Giacobbe, this one from Verona, overheard the conversation and also offered to find a child. A few months passed and, as Holy Week approached, Giacobbe of Colonia decided to begin his search in the largest nearby city, Trevisio. He looked closely at every young boy he met; some seemed well nourished, but were not alone. Others were alone, but appeared too thin and hungry, and were clearly in need of milk and honey to fatten them up. Eventually, in the market, Giacobbe of Colonia found a healthily complexioned boy of about six or seven years named Sebastian New. He quickly enticed this boy into his company with promises of bread and wine, and took him to the house of a fellow Jew, where he chanced upon Giacobbe of Verona. The two Jews, having arrived in Trevisio for the same purpose, decided to progress together. First, they bought a new basin from the barber into which the fresh blood would eventually be drained, and then they trained the boy to walk some half-dozen paces behind them so as not to arouse suspicion.

Under cover of night, they left Trevisio and began the journey back to Portobuffole. The boy tired quickly and eventually Giocobbe of Colonia had to carry him. However, whenever they reached the outskirts of a town, the boy was set down and ordered to make his own way through the place and to meet the two Jews on the other side. He was rewarded each time with bread and apples, and offered a long drink from their hipflasks. Once they reached Portobuffole, the boy was instructed to follow behind at a reasonable distance. The two Giocobbes made their way into the house of Servadio, where his wife was busy cooking matzah for the forthcoming feast day. They informed Servadio of their successful mission, and then Giocobbe of Colonia stole outside and ushered in the boy. Both Giocobbes received their ten ducati, along with praise for the fine choice they had made. The young innocent was inspected and then ushered into the kitchen where, in order that he might be quickly fattened, he was fed an egg and a piece of matzah, and then given some wine. Thereafter, he was taken to a small room where he slept soundly.