would not fulfill his wishes and so he brutally killed her.” Faruk shakes his head in disgust. “Do you want this stain on your society?”
“No!” the people around me chorus. “Never!” They are like baying dogs. How can they allow themselves to be so easily deceived?
Faruk gives a solemn nod, as though confirming how very wise they are, and retires to the side of the stage.
“And now for the defense,” announces the man with the staff. There are crows and hoots of anticipation, and Roberto is led forward by a chain to the front of the stage.
His eyes scan the crowd, though I notice he avoids looking at me. I mustn’t feel hurt; he is doing what he can to get through the next moments.
“I am proud to be a son of Venice,” he begins, his voice cracking. He straightens his shoulders. “I would die rather than dishonor this city.”
“Die, then, dog!” someone shouts from the back of the crowd, and ugly laughter fills my ears. Roberto waits for the insults to die away. His expression is strong and proud; this is not a man who will cower before them. Hope flutters in my heart. Finally, quiet descends.
“This much I can tell you: I have never met the woman, Aysim. On the night she was so foully killed, I was drugged and my apartments arranged to look like the scene of murder. Whoever committed this crime, it wasn’t me.”
Now there are hisses of disapproval from onlookers.
“I am an innocent man,” says Roberto. He lowers his head again.
He allows himself to be brought back to the center of the stage, and I feel my hands ball into fists at my sides.
“Is that all he has to say?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
“I could have done better myself,” says the man beside me, taking a long gulp of beer.
Anyone could have done better than that. Roberto has betrayed his fate with a few paltry words and a story that not even a child would believe. I want to sink to my knees, to weep. What hope is left to us now?
Halim steps up. Handsome, powerful Halim. His hair is freshly oiled and his robes are pristine. He looks every inch the prince he is. He talks quietly with the judges, and I guess that he is requesting permission to speak. Then he turns to face the crowds.
“I’d hoped that the Doge’s son would show his noble birth, and admit his guilt, but it seems that is not to be. So my hand has been forced.” My glance darts towards Roberto. The blood drains from his face as he watches Halim intensely. “My poor sister was the most virtuous of women. When she first disappeared,” Halim continues, “our lives fell apart. We didn’t know whether she had been kidnapped, or worse. We searched high and low for clues that might help us find her.” From the sash of his robe, Halim pulls out a roll of parchment. “Then we found this letter.”
Halim slowly unrolls the parchment, which bears a broken ducal seal. Though no one can read the writing from their vantage point, the crowd seems to press forward as one. I can see the prince’s hand shaking a little. He looks upwards to the sky.
“Forgive me, sister,” he mutters. “I betray your secrets to save your honor.” Now he turns his face to the parchment and begins to read.
“My Darling,
“Since we met in Constantinople last month, I have not been able to put you from my thoughts. Even when I close my eyes, your face does not leave me. Each day since seems a year in length. That night, you gave me a hundred reasons why we should not be together, but my single reason trumps them all. I love you, and cannot live while we’re apart. Come to Venice at once, and I promise our life together will be a paradise. I think of you whether the sun or the moon rules the sky.”
Halim’s voice cracks on the words, and he holds the letter up for all to see. “I ask you to bear witness to the signature.”
“Roberto.”
The crowd boos and hisses in fury. Halim holds the letter towards Roberto, and the ugly sounds cease.
“Do you deny this handwriting is yours?” The last word is almost spat.
Roberto looks at the letter for what seems a long time. His face grows pale and his brow creases with … what? “I don’t understand,” he says. “The