PROLOGUE
Chapter 1 – PORTIA
Portia was roused by Mother Elizabeth in the middle of the night urgently. The young girl with curly red hair, skin as pale as paper, wolfish jade green eyes and red rosy lips awoke with a fright and looked at the stricken nun.
"What is it Mother Elizabeth?" she asked.
"It's your father, quickly dress yourself, something has happened!" Mother Elizabeth said shrilly and ushered the other young nuns back into bed, a messenger was waiting at the door with a lamp.
Portia got up quickly, her heart beating, her brow sweating and a million thought racing through her mind as she quickly dressed herself in the attire the nuns gave her.
Portia was currently 13 years old and should have been rightfully in her father's castle living with him as his heir, but Portia had been brought up in the nunnery across from the castle, she had been banned from an education, instead of the books that she had loved to read as a child, she now had bibles placed in front of her, instead of silky garments worn by the aristocratic she now donned the hand-woven habit that all the nuns around her wore.
Portia followed Mother Elizabeth back into the castle, the castle was eerily quiet and there were bells tolling loudly, so loud it resonated loudly inside portia's ears making her cover them with her hands. She was stricken now with grief, there was only one reason why the bells were probably tolling; the bells always signaled someone dying.
Her assumption was correct when she was brought into her father's chamber, her father was surrounded by all his servants and there was a priest making the sign of the cross over his body.
"My lord, your daughter is here" whispered one of the servants into her father's ear, Portia saw her father's eyes open and immediately Mother Elizabeth ushered her to go closer to the bed.
"My darling daughter" said her father "Before I depart this world, I need to tell you something"
"I'm here father" said Portia nervously.
"From this day forward, you will not be under the supervision of Mother Elizabeth, now that you are of age, you will be married, romero, bring the caskets" explained her father.
The servant, romero, left the room which was silent with grief, and he returned moments later with another two servants, in each servant's hands was a casket, one of gold, silver and lead. The servants placed each casket at the foot of the bed and portia's father took out a scroll.
"Here is a scroll that has the information about what is inside each casket" he placed it in portia's hands "The casket that contains your picture must be chosen by your husband for him to marry you, otherwise he is not my heir and he is not your husband." Looking at Mother Elizabeth he asked "I hope she has learnt obedience in your nunnery mother?"
"She has, my lord" replied Mother Elizabeth.
"Well obey me in this my daughter because my dearest wish is that you find a worthy husband, worthy of inheriting this house" said her father.
"I will father" whispered Portia.
"Now go!, pray for me!, I will not let you see me pass, Mother Elizabeth take her away" begged her father.
Portia knew she should have said something, told Mother Elizabeth to go away but she was in two minds, on one hand she was unnaturally indifferent to seeing her father die, which made her feel very guilty inside, but on the other she wanted to obey his wishes but stay with him; he was the only family she had left wasn't he?.
But alas, her father was her father and yet not her father, emotionally. He had kept her in separation from his love ever since she was 8 years old and in truth Portia did not know how to react to this news.
As soon as she had left her father's grand chambers she was taken to a grandeur room in the castle. There was a king sized bed, bigger than the one she had been sleeping on in the nunnery and she had been given new clothes. The servants doted on her and transferred everything she owned from the nunnery to her room while she remained almost attached from it.
Maybe she was in mourning after all: the three caskets followed her but were put in another room.
BASSANIO
"BASSANIO! BASSANIO! WHERE IS THAT BOY?!" yelled a beer bellied man in silky venetican black and red style clothing with golden chains around his neck and a beard that framed his double chinned face. He was standing outside on a balcony that overlooked a small canal, it was pitch dark and was evening and still his young heir apparent had not returned home.
A servant came in and jumped when the man screamed his young master's name again "My lord! What is the matter may I ask?!".
"What do you think is the matter?! The boy bassanio, he told me he was going to Sunday school and he is not back yet" screamed the man.
"Are you sure you are correct my lord? Because bassanio told me he was going shopping…" began the servant.
Both men fell silent, suddenly the big bellied man threw a golden jug that was luckily empty at his servant and yelled "GO AND GET HIM!" in his thick Italian accent.
Meanwhile under the cover of darkness, three young boys were looking at a synongue where a crowd of jewish people had finished their prayers for the night. As soon as a few of the jews came within distance of these three boys, the boys stood up and started pelting them with stones.
"JEWS! JEWS! JEWS! GO AWAY!" they screamed and giggled. The crowd yelled and ran away from the stones screaming insults at the young boys.
The boys, who had been wearing masks in the form of distinct animals stood up when the crowd had dispersed and, crying with laughter, took off their masks.
"God that was a good one bassanio!" cried one of the boys.
"You should have got bigger stones Antonio!" laughed bassanio, a cheery faced youth with curly black hair.
Both boys were unaware of the three members of the Venetian guard coming towards them from behind them. It was only when the third member of the group turned around that he (with a pale face) nudged the boy bassanio of the impending danger.
"Hey Hey!" cried the guards.
All three boys arose abruptly and turned to face the guards in complete respect.
"What are you boys doing out so late?!" barked the guards.
"We were – counting the ducks" invented bassanio. His friends groaned with impatience beside him.
"You haven't by any chance seen this boy have you?" asked the guard ignoring bassanio's lie. The guard took out a picture from his pocket that showed the portrait of a boy with the exact likeness of bassanio. Bassanio's eyes widened but before he could run off, the guard had caught him and the others guards ran after bassanio's other friends who had run away.
"Don't hurt them! You should all know your place" shouted bassanio trying to prise the guard's hands off of him.
"Oh, we all know who you are, bassanio!" sneered the guard and he first tried to drag bassanio away, and then he carried him over his shoulder back to his father.
Bassanio was again in full blast of his father's wrath but whereas his friend cowered in his father's presence, bassanio showed no fear. He was quite used to it and because he showed no remorse for what he had done his father had no choice but to ban him from going out in the town for 2 weeks.
But this was bassanio we were talking about, and therefore he found ways to sneak out of his father's house, he became such an expert in sneaking out that by the time he was 13 he was confident in exploring the town without his father's knowledge.
One day bassanio decided to play a trick on his father, he wouldn't have thought about it if gratiano his friend had not suggested it to him. The plan was simple and they thought innocent; Antonio would go to bassanio's father and tell him that bassanio was dead having been attacked by a gang of teenagers, and after the old man had shed a few tears, bassanio would turn up and therefore tell his father he had played a joke on him.
The joke seemed to them innocent but neither of them knew how deadly this one joke would be.
"BASSANIO! BASSANIO!" screamed bassanio's father, bassanio had purposely let himself get caught out that he was not in his father's house, so the old man was bellowing louder and angrier than ever. The servant of the household came in again and asked bassanio's father what is wrong.
"You were supposed to keep an eye on him!" yelled bassanio's father in the ears of the guards that stood outside bassanio's bedroom door.
Suddenly before the guards could answer there came a scream from one of the maids in the house suddenly gratiano and the young Antonio came in, both boys sweating with blood (which was really wine) on their clothes.
"My lord! My Lord!" babbled Antonio pretending to be in shock.
"What is it my boy?! Where is bassanio? Where is he" asked bassanio's father his face immediately going pale.
"My lord we-we were playing in town, i-I'm sorry we shouldn't have-it was a mistake, bassanio, he was attacked, killed by a gang that wanted to rob us, we tried but we could only run for our lives!" cried Antonio screwing his face up in grief and bowing his head.
There was silence and then bassanio's father let out a blood-curling cry of anguish and began to clutch his chest, Antonio looked at gratiano in horror; this was not the plan at all.
"MY LORD, QUICKLY GET A DOCTOR!" shouted the servant and immediately the guards laid the old man on the ground.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo and bassanio were not too far away in a lonely alleyway, laughing at their own joke.
"This is the most genius, the most daring of jokes imaginable!" giggled bassanio.
"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" asked Lorenzo suddenly after both boys had stopped crying.
Suddenly there was a boy's cry and gratiano came sprinting around the corner.
"BASSANIO DEAR BASSANIO IT'S YOUR FATHER! HE-HE TOOK THE NEWS BADLY! HE IS CLUTCHING HIS CHEST AND EVERYTHING!" screamed gratiano.
Without saying a word to gratiano, bassanio pushed past him and sprinted straight home, his ears were popping but he was ignoring it, his breath was coming faster and tears were building up in his eyes clouding his eyesight; it can't be he kept repeating to himself it can't be, it can't be, IT CAN'T BE!
He arrived at the entrance to his house and saw the doctor going inside the house, a coffin waiting outside, bassanio, who had sprinted the whole way, fell down onto his knees onto the wet ground (it had started raining) and slapped his hands to his face.
God forgive me, oh please God forgive me