CHAPTER XXXV.
Later in the day the gate keeper at Phranza's mansion put intoMorsinia's hand a letter left with him by an Italian laboring man. Itwas addressed--"To the Albanian lady," and read thus:
"Your brother's life is threatened by some secret enemy. Let himexercise an Albanian's caution! This is the advice of a stranger."
A little before this, as the "poor Italian" was moving away from thegate of Phranza, a gorgeous palanquin, with silken canopy and sideslatticed with silver rods, was borne in by four stout and well-formedmen, with bare legs and arms, purple short trousers, embroideredjackets, and jaunty red caps, whose long tassels hung far down theirbacks.
The "Italian" stepped into an angle that the palanquin might pass; andstood gazing a long time after it had disappeared. At length, turningaway, he said to himself:
"Strange! It must be that my imagination has been disturbed by thescenes of last night. But the lady in yonder palanquin is my dreammade real. The pretty face of the child with whom I once played on themountains must have cut its outlines somewhere on my brain, for I seemto see it everywhere. My captive in the mountains of Albania had thesame features--though I saw them only under the flash of a torch.Imagination that, surely! The girl at Sfetigrade was similar. And nowthis one! The aga's advice to beware female illusions was good. Butshe may be the Albanian lady after all. Impossible! Stupidity! Perhapsmy chosen houri in paradise is only flashing her beauty upon my soulfrom these fair earthly faces, and so training me first to love her asan ideal, that the joy of the realization may be perfect. But, tut!tut! silly boy that I am!"
Whistling monotonously he turned down a street.
A short, crooked-necked officer passed along. His face at the momentwas the picture of dissatisfaction. The "Italian" stopped him, and,with a courtesy which belied his common apparel, addressed him:--
"Captain Urban of the engineers, is it not?"
"And who are you?" was the surly, yet half respectful, reply, as theone addressed glanced into the other's face.
"One who knows that the cannon you are casting are not heavy enough tolodge a ball against the old tower of Galata yonder across the GoldenHorn, much less breach a fortification; and further, that all you cancast at this rate from now until the Turks take Byzantium would notenable you to throw ten shot an hour."
"By the brass toe of St. Peter! man, I was just saying the same thingto myself," replied Urban.
"And the Emperor's treasury, when he has bought himself a wife, willnot have enough left to buy saltpetre with which to fire the guns, ifhe should allow you brass enough for the casting," added the stranger.
"True again, my man; and the Emperor's service in the meantime doesnot yield stipend enough for an officer to live upon decently. If youwere better dressed, my prince of lazaroni, I couldn't afford to askyou to drink with me; but this cheap shop will shame neither yourlooks nor my purse. Come in."
"Who are you, my good fellow?" asked Urban, as he drained a cup ofmastic-flavored wine. "Were not your voice different, and yourpronunciation of Greek rather provincial, with a slight Servianbrogue, I would take you for one of our young engineers. You are notan Italian, spite of your garb."
"No," was the reply, "I was once in the employ of the Despot ofServia, engineer and artillery-man; but I think of entering theservice of the Sultan. He pays finely, and gives one who loves thescience of war a chance to use his genius."
"For such a chance and good pay I would serve the devil," said Urban."The Greek emperor here is no saint, and yet I have served him for acrust. I am not bound to him by any tie. If you find good quarterswith the Turks, give me a hint, and I will join you."
The stranger eyed him closely as he said this, and replied in lowtones--"Captain Urban, I am a Moslem; Captain Ballaban of the Janizarycorps. And I bear you a commission from the Padishah. To seek you is apart of my business in Constantinople. I do not ask you to take myword for this, but if you will accompany me, I will give you proof ofmy authority. A thousand ducats I will put into your hand within anhour, with which you may taste the Padishah's liberality and imaginewhat it shall be when you accompany me to Adrianople."
The two men left the wine shop together and entered a bazaar. Thestranger whispered to the merchant who was nearly buried amid hugepiles of goods of every antique description; strange patternedtapestries, rugs of all hues and sizes, ebony boxes inlaid with silverand ivory, shields bossed and graven, spear-heads, cimeters anddaggers. The salesman made as low a salam as his crowding wares wouldpermit, and, opening a way through the heaps of merchandise, conductedthe visitors into an inner room.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 35
