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Within an hour I had skin them all, these kinsmen of Bianca, and only for the very last of them, he who had talked the longest with me, quite unawares of what was happening all about him¡ªonly for him did Amadeo beg and weep. Was I to show this one mercy when his heart was as guilty as all the rest?
We sat alone in the ruined supper room, the dead bodies around us, the food cold upon its silver and gold plates and platters, the wine running from overturned goblets, and for the first time, as Amadeo cried and cried, I saw dread in his eyes.
I looked at my hands. I had drunk so much blood that they looked human and I knew that were I to look into a mirror, I would see a florid human face.
The heat in me was delicious and unendurable, and I wanted nothing more than to take Amadeo, bring him over to me now, and yet there he sat before me, the tears streaming down his face.
"They are all gone," I said, "those who tormented Bianca. You come with me. Let's leave this gory scene. I would walk with you, before the sun rises, near the sea. "
He followed me as a child might, the tears staining his face as they ran still from his eyes.
"Wipe your tears," I said firmly. "We're going out into the piazza. It's almost dawn. "
He slipped his hand into mine as we went down the stone stairs.
I put my arm around him, sheltering him from the sharp wind.
"Master," he pleaded, "they were evil men, weren't they? You were certain of it. You knew it. "
"All of them," I answered. "But sometimes men and women are both good and evil," I continued, "and who am I to choose for my vicious appetite, yet I do. Is Bianca not both good and evil?"
"Master," he asked, "if I drink the blood of those who are evil, will I become like you?"
We stood before the closed doors of San Marco. The wind came mercilessly off the sea. I drew my cloak about him all the more tightly, and he rested his head against my chest.
"No, child," I said, "there's infinitely more magic in it than that. "
"You must give me your blood, isn't that so, Master?" he asked as he looked up at me, the tears clear and glistening in the cold air, his hair mussed.
I didn't answer.
"Master," he said, as I held him close to me, "long years ago, or so they seem to me, in some far-away place, where I lived before I came to you, I was what they called a Fool for God. I don't remember it clearly and never will as both of us well know.
"But a Fool for God was a man who gave himself over to God completely and did not care what happened, whether it was mockery, or starvation, or endless laughter, or dreadful cold. That much I remember, that I was a Fool for God in those times. "
"But you painted pictures, Amadeo, you painted beautiful ikons¡ª. "
"But listen to me, Master," he said firmly, forcing me to silence, "whatever I did, I was a Fool for God, and now I would be a Fool for you. " He paused, snuggling close to me as the wind grew stronger. The mists moved in over the stones. There came noises from the ships.
I started to speak but he reached to stop me. How obdurate and strong he seemed, how seductive, how completely mine.
"Master," he went on. "Do it when you will. You have my secrecy. You have my patience. Do it when and how you will"
I thought on what he'd said.
"Go home, Amadeo," I answered him. "You know the sun is coming, and I must leave you with the arrival of the sun. "
He nodded, puzzling over it, as though for the very first time it mattered to him, though how he couldn't have thought of it before I didn't know.
"Go home, and study with the others, talk with them, and shepherd the little ones at their play. If you can do that¡ªgo from the bloody banquet room to the laughter of children¡ªthen when 1 come tonight, I shall do it. I shall bring you over to myself. "
I watched him walk away from me in th
e mist. He went towards the canal where he would find the gondola to take him back to our door.
"A Fool for God," I whispered aloud so that my mind might hear it, "yes, a Fool for God, and in some miserable monastery you painted the sacred pictures, convinced your life would mean nothing unless it was a life of sacrifice and pain. And now, in my magic you see some similar burning purity. And you turn away from all the riches of life in Venice for that burning purity; you turn away from all that a human may have. "
But was it so? Did he know enough to make such a decision? Could he forsake the sun forever?
