Free Veronica COURTESAN by Siobhan Daiko Page B

then he retrieves his clothes. A piece of rolled parchment falls onto the floor. Andrew claps a hand to his forehead. ‘I’m sorry. I found this by your front door. I should have given it to you sooner.’
    I take the missive from him. ‘I’ll look at it in a minute.’
    Andrew kisses me on the forehead and takes his leave.
    Now I’m alone, I start to read. My eyes widen and my heart sinks with every word.
    The writer has addressed me as a whore, playing with the letters of my name. “Ver”, becomes “verily”. Then “onica”, “unique”. And what he has written, for ’tis a man who has penned this I am sure, is truly horrible.
     
    To Veronica, verily unique whore,
    I refuse to commit myself to a woman who insists on earning a profit at my expense. Because screwing is neither pleasant nor tasty, kisses are not kisses, and thrusts no longer thrusts without that certain thing that one calls Love. I mean, asking for five or six coins for a kiss, and fifty for barely a fuck! ’Tis truly is a shame that families do not tie up those who pay such prices, as though you had balsam or manna on your cunt.
    No text or gloss will ever state that a lover must give his woman anything besides his heart. Whoever invented gunpowder, whoever betrayed Christ, keeps company with the one who first screwed for money. Wouldn’t you like us to wait on you day and night and give you dozens and hundreds of coins? Sure, go look for some damned cuckold of a cur.
    When getting your voice to match the tone produced by do re mi fa sol la you perform a miracle. No doubt such talents are worth a lot and so is beauty. But dearer and more precious by far than beauty and talent is freedom. The deadly enemy of cats and dogs, for if they are gnawing at a bone, you, bitch, try to grab it from between their paws. And did you mean, slut, not to hoist your cunt just now so that you can go halves if the boys from the street throw apples and boiled chestnuts at it?
    A true love based on sacred trust, to serve with one’s whole heart, are the proper rewards for a great fuck. Your body is so emaciated that your breasts hang low enough to use to row your boat on the canal…
     
    If it weren’t so upsetting, I would laugh, for the imagery is quite comical. Oh, Dio mio . That I should have inspired such filth from Marco Venier makes me almost want to weep. But I won’t. Instead, I’ll show him. For as certain as my name is Veronica Franco, I’ll show that cuckold of a cur, for that’s what he is, that he has truly met his match in me. Yes, I am unique. And to think that I fooled myself into believing I was in love with him…
     

7

     
    To the Magnifico Marco Venier,
    “Verily unique” among other things, you called me, alluding to Veronica, my name. But I fail to see how one can properly call something “unique” in a critical sense, by way of condemnation. Perhaps you were writing in an ironic way? Yet such ambiguity fails to communicate the point you evidently wanted to make.
    A woman whose renown makes her right to be proud, who stands out for her loveliness or for her bravery, and far surpasses all others in virtue – such a woman is accurately called “unique”. “Unique” is used in admiration and respect by those who know; and whoever speaks otherwise deviates from the true meaning of words. Is it not, sir, merely incorrect emphasis, when hurling insult and abuse at someone, to use a term meant for most exceptional things? Either your purpose was not to defame me, or you were unaware, even lying, when you said it.
    By using “unique” when you call me “whore”, either you imply I’m not one, or that I am and merit some praise. However, after careful analysis of what you’ve written, I find, in fact, that you were criticising me. I distance myself from that aim of yours; I insist on debating it at any cost.
    Prepare your paper and ink and tell me which weapons I must wield in battle with you. You will have nowhere to hide from