by Mika Waltari
Shortly afterward Andy appeared in the gateway, his hands thrust into his sash with a swaggering air. He surveyed us in surprise, and said, “In the name of Allah! What are you standing out there for? Come and share in our joy!”
He had quite forgotten having seen me just a few moments before. We dared not accept his cordial invitation, and I said, “Andy, you can’t be drunk? Come out to us and we’ll hide you from Selim’s wrath.”
He looked at me blankly.
“Are you raving, Michael? Selim ben-Hafs is dead and I serve his son Mohammed ben-Hafs, blessed be the dear boy’s name.”
Abu el-Kasim uttered a loud cry, and demanded, “How is this possible?”
Andy avoided our eyes, and rubbing the palms of his hands together in embarrassment he replied, “Most people believe that he slipped in the bath and broke his neck. But the sad truth is that it was I who broke it for him. It was quite a mistake, and in self-defense-and perhaps I was a trifle fuddled.”
“Good God in heaven!” I gasped. “Have you slain Selim ben-Hafs, and so ruined all my excellent plans? I begin to wonder why the Creator gave you a head at all, unless it was just to keep your ears apart.”
Andy flared up, being still fiery with wine.
“Why bewail Selim’s fate? Mourn rather for the two other sultans who have reigned here this day, for if the truth must be told, Mohammed is Selim’s third successor.”
Just then four or five soldiers in felt caps ran up to tell Andy that the Aga was calling for him. Andy followed them unsteadily across the courtyard, leaving us under the protection of the sentries. Abu el- Kasim and I sat down in the shade with heavy hearts, but Mustafa ben-Nakir took out his Persian book and began to read poems, glancing complacently from time to time at his painted nails.
Presently we sprang to our feet, for from the Aga’s house came the sudden sound of screams and shots. I thought never to see Andy again, but I should have knov/n him better. He came staggering across the courtyard toward us with a troop of yelling soldiers at his heels. On his head was the Aga’s turban, adorned by a plume held in a jeweled socket. He sighed, “May Allah forgive my many sins. I must certainly be drunk. I was forced to slay the Aga, though I knew that assault upon a superior officer is the worst crime a soldier can commit. But he was plotting little Mohammed’s downfall, and if he had been successful no one would have remained to inherit Selim’s throne; so to avoid confusion I slew the Aga and took his turban. But help me now, Michael, and Abu my dear master, for I need a dromedary.”
I was now convinced that he had lost the last remnant of his wits, until it dawned upon Abu that Andy meant a dragoman, to interpret. But I exclaimed, “In the name of Allah! My brother is not answerable for his actions. Give him the powerful sleeping draught prepared for Selim, and when he has slept himself sober we can talk some sense into him.”
Just then an irate eunuch, attended by soldiers, approached from the inner court bearing the Sultan’s signet ring in his hand. After him came servants dragging a heavy iron chest. The soldiers shouted that they were bringing the Sultan’s money, to be shared out among his loyal troops. If it had been noisy before, the tumult now increased to that of some gigantic dogfight, and with my hands to my face I took refuge behind a buttress of the wall. Soldiers swarmed up on all sides, hacking at one another and trampling the weaker underfoot as they ran, until the eunuch, having vainly brandished the signet ring, threw himself over the chest and commended his soul to Allah’s protection.
Andy now bade us a confused farewell and fought his way through to the chest. He thrust the eunuch aside and commanded all the scribes to keep strict account, so that each and every man might receive his fair share. Strange to say, these savage fellows obeyed him promptly, and paraded in order of rank to await their turn. They felt honored when Andy cuffed them over the head and called them drunken swine. The trembling scribes sat on the ground with the regimental rolls before them; the eunuch threw out his arms despairingly, unlocked the chest, and withdrew. Andy peered into the chest and cried aghast, “Cursed be the name of Selim ben-Hafs, who swindles us even when dead! He perished not a moment too soon.”
The sergeants pressed forward and stared into the chest, and were in their turn astonished, for what they saw there was not enough to provide one gold coin for each man. But they soon recovered from their surprise and said, “We are poor men, but the city is rich. Let us hasten down and take what we can before the Spaniards get their claws into it.”
Andy scratched his head. “Who am I to gainsay you? A hundred heads must be better than one. Yet we should think twice before pillaging a city which the Sultan placed under our protection.”
Abu el-Kasim burst into tears, and said, “All things are preordained, and now is our last chance to save what can be saved. Go, Mustafa ben-Nakir, and reason with these men, while I and my slave Michael hasten home for the gold which was to be the comfort of my declining years. It will amount to four gold pieces for each man, and may enable them to possess their souls in patience until the Deliverer reaches the city.”
Mustafa walked forward to Andy with his usual dignity, while Abu and I hurried out of the gate and down into the city. We saw the last of the Spaniards rowing back to their fortress and a crowd of people standing on the quay, shouting and brandishing their weapons. But we had hardly reached our house when the guns of the fortress began to roar; a roundshot whistled through the air and knocked a hole in the house next to ours. Hastily we dug up the treasure hidden beneath the floor, stowed the money bags in a chest, and loaded this onto a stray donkey that fate had sent to our very door. The firing had terrified it, but reassured by the feel of its weighty burden it plodded readily up the steep street.
When we arrived with our load at the forecourt of the kasbah, we found the soldiers sitting on the ground and listening quietly to Mustafa ben-Nakir’s inspired description of the joys of Paradise. Now and then he read Persian poems to them from his book. Andy was dozing and nodding on the lid of the chest. Mustafa ben-Nakir sent us a reproachful glance as we arrived sweating and shouting with our donkey, disturbing his mellifluous recital. But Andy sprang up and greeted us with blessings.
“We must now consult Amina and her son, whom I’ve made sultan because she swore to me that he is Selim ben-Hafs’s lawful heir. It’s true that this charming lady had often bitterly complained of Selim’s neglect at the material period; but we’ve no other sultans to choose from, now that she has strangled both Selim’s elder sons.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir closed his book of poems and said with a sigh, “Let us seek out the boy, Michael, for the paying of these men will take a long time, and I’ve already prepared them for the Deliverer’s coming.”
Andy ordered the soldiers to obey Abu el-Kasim and the scribes, that no disputes might arise over their pay; then he came with us into the inner courtyard where we saw many corpses, and a number of shot holes in the marble colonnade. But Andy took us straight through the golden Gateway of Bliss, shoving the startled eunuchs aside, then muttered thickly, “Let’s go to the baths, for I fancy I have two unopened wine jars there.”
With the assurance of a sleepwalker he led us along many labyrinthine corridors to the baths, and there kneeling at the brink he fished a jar from the water, broke its seal, and drank greedily. I glanced round the place and beheld Selim ben-Hafs’s body lying on a marble slab-no lovely sight, for it was more swollen and livid than ever. The eunuchs who had been attending to it melted away like shadows at our approach. Mustafa ben-Nakir seated himself cross legged on the bench at the dead man’s feet and said, “We must all die, and each moment of our lives is preordained. It is also the will of Allah that we should sit in this bathhouse and that you should cleanse your conscience so that afterward we may order all things for the best. Speak, therefore, wrestler Antar!”
Andy stared, hiccupped, felt the feathers in his turban and said in hurt tones, “I’m no wrestler, but the Sultan’s Aga-if only I could lay hands on the Sultan. And all that
happened was that evil tongues spread slander about me, persuading Selim ben-Hafs that I’d spat in his bed-which is a black lie as I’ve never so much as seen his bed. This morning Selim came stark naked to the bathhouse to sweat away the opium, and a whole crowd of painted boys came too, to wash him. When he saw me he began to screech for his scimitar. His wife Amina, who was wearing no more than was once customary in Paradise, tried to calm him and at least gain time for me to get my breeches on. But at the sight of her the licentious old man was more rabid than ever. Luckily his pretty boys took to their heels when they saw Amina, so I was able to bar the door and consider what was next to be done. She said I had no choice but to bring the Selim to a better frame of mind by force, so I just took him by the neck with the tips of my fingers, and it broke. My dear Amina was as frightened as myself.”
Andy wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb, but Mustafa ben-Nakir, contemplating his nails, asked, “And then?”
“Then?” Andy rubbed his temples to refresh his memory. “Yes. Well, then the lady Amina said it was the will of Allah, but that for our own good it would be best to say that Selim had slipped on the smooth floor and broken his neck. She then told me that other more important duties awaited her and quickly left the room, promising to send the Aga and the eunuchs as witnesses to what had occurred. The eunuchs laid Selim on the bench, tied his toes together and proclaimed the new sultan, while I took the Aga by the arm and returned with him to the barracks, as it seemed to me I had no business in the house of mourning. I thought him a pleasant fellow, yet in that I must have been mistaken, since so far as I can remember I’ve just killed him.”
He fingered his headdress thoughtfully for a litde, then started and said, “Where was I? Ah, yes. There was trouble over the new sultan, for Selim ben-Hafs had two sons besides Amina’s, and these two were proclaimed sultan simultaneously. The uproar and fighting went on until it was found that Amina had had both the elder boys strangled, and their mother, too, for safety’s sake. When I reproached her for this she asked if I would have preferred to see her and her son strangled; for it seems it is the custom here for the ruler to leave no rival alive. She then hinted broadly that she meant to marry me, so that I might protect her son till he grew up. I’ve nothing whatever against Amina-fine woman-but she’s handier with the noose than I should like any wife of mine to be.”
He began angrily calling for Amina, and was almost too drunk to stand, but Mustafa ben-Nakir had heard enough and rose, saying, “Antar, you’ve done your part, and need rest. There is no sultan but Suleiman, the Sultan of Sultans, and in his name I take possession of this kasbah until the Deliverer comes to reward and punish each man according to his deserts. Slave Michael, take your brother’s sword which he’s not in a condition to wield and strike off Selim’s head, that it may be set on the top of a pillar in a golden dish in the sight of everyone. With him the Hafsid dynasty is at an end; no intriguing women shall rule in this city, and the throne shall remain vacant until the coming of the Deliverer.”
Mustafa spoke in a voice of such authority that I dared not disobey, and grasping Andy’s sword I struck off Selim’s head, disagreeable though the task was. But as I was handing back the weapon a crowd of splendidly dressed eunuchs and black slaves entered the room. In their midst was a boy in a gorgeous kaftan and with far too large a turban on his head. He tripped over the long kaftan as he walked, and held his mother by the hand.
Andy, looking much ashamed, greeted this woman by the name of Amina. When she saw the state he was in she forgot to veil herself, stamped, and screamed, “I ought never to have trusted one of the uncircumcised! Where is the treasure chest? Why don’t the soldiers proclaim my son sultan? And how could you allow my lord’s body to be thus desecrated? The best thing I could do would be to have your throat cut, since you use it only to defile it in defiance of the Prophet’s law.”
“B-blessed be his name,” stammered Andy, swaying and hiccupping, while I stood nonplussed with Selim’s head still in my hand; the infuriated woman snatched off her red slipper and began beating Andy over the head with it, until the Aga’s turban fell off. I hardly know how it would have ended had not Mustafa ben-Nakir stepped forward, jingling the bells at his girdle, and cried, “Veil your face, shameless woman, and take your bastard back to the harem! We have nothing to say to you, and Allah will punish you for thus treating a man who has done you and your son far greater service than you deserve.”
His demeanor was so proud and commanding that the woman recoiled and said, “Who are you, fair youth, and how dare you use that tone to me, the mother of the ruling sultan?”
“I am Mustafa ben-Nakir, son of the angel of death. My task is to see that each is rewarded after his deserts.” Turning to the eunuchs he said, “Take the woman back to the harem, and let this drunken swine sleep it off in some obscure corner. Then fetch a kaftan befitting my rank, so that I may take command of the city until the coming of the Deliverer. And do all this more swiftly than I can find an appropriate gazel, or many of you will find yourselves a head shorter.”
He turned his back on Amina, opened his book, and began reading aloud to himself in his musical voice, so impressively that none dared to question or disturb him, but obeyed his orders. I was greatly relieved to find amid the general confusion at least one man who knew his own mind. But my great natural curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “What manner of man are you, Mustafa ben-Nakir, that all obey you?”
He smiled and bent his head.
“I but follow the impulses of my heart, which tomorrow may lead me out into the wilderness. Perhaps men obey me because I’m freer than others-so free that I care not whether they obey me or not.”
The eunuchs soon returned with splendid clothes, which they helped Mustafa ben-Nakir to put on. They shod him with jeweled slippers and girded a bright sword about his waist; lastly he set upon his well- groomed locks the Aga’s turban. He bade me put Selim ben-Hafs’s head on the golden dish, which the eunuchs brought at his order, and then with his hand to his mouth he yawned slightly and said, “The money will soon have been distributed among the men, and it will be wise to keep them occupied. I fancy nothing will answer the purpose so well as attacking the Spaniards. I must therefore send a Latin- speaking envoy to their fortress to demand compensation for all the damage they’ve done. If they refuse, they must be told that the new sultan will not tolerate their behavior, and must summon Khaireddin to his support. This will give us time to take the guns down to the harbor. But if you have a better plan, Michael, speak freely.”
“Whom do you mean by the sultan?” I objected. “Is little Mohammed ben-Hafs the lawful sultan of Algiers?”
“Ah,” he replied, suppressing another yawn, “we believe in Allah though we haven’t seen him; why should the Spaniards doubt the existence of a sultan whom they’ve never beheld? Speak to them of this invisible sultan, and let that suffice them.”
“Allah, Allah!” I gasped. “You can’t mean to send me? Spaniards are cruel men, and even if they leave the head on my shoulders they’re likely to remove my nose and ears.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir gently shook his head. “I would gladly go myself, for I like to visit new places and people. But I lack proficiency in Latin, and have also other things to do. You had better stay at the fortress for a time. Now you must not disturb me, for I’m composing a Turkish poem in the Persian manner and must count the syllables.”
To comfort me, he ordered the eunuchs to provide me with an exceedingly fine kaftan, and I had then no choice but to take Selim’s head on the golden charger and follow Mustafa ben-Nakir. The armed
Negroes attended us and we paced in solemn procession to the forecourt amid the astonished shouts of the soldiers. Abu el-Kasim dashed up to us and fell on his knees before Mustafa to kiss his slipper. Seeing this, the eunuch also knelt; Mustafa took the Sultan’s signet ring from his hand and fingered it reflectively. Soon the whole court was full of bowing soldiers, who touched forehead and ground with t
heir finger tips.
Mustafa ben-Nakir summoned the sergeants and arranged for some men to guard the gates and others to quench the fires down by the harbor. But the greater number he ordered to drag the cannon to the shore. No vessel was to put out for the fortress without his permission, and anyone approaching from that direction was to be arrested and brought before him.
When he had finished speaking he contemplated his nails and asked whether there was anything further the men wished to know. They murmured among themselves until one took courage and yelled, “Driveling fop! Who are you to give orders?”
This was greeted by expectant laughter, but Mustafa ben-Nakir coolly took a broad scimitar from a Negro’s hand, advanced to the speaker and looked him steadily in the face. The other soldiers made way, and Mustafa with a lightning stroke took off the man’s head before he could lift a finger. Without so much as a glance at the headless body Mustafa returned to his place, handed the sword back to the Negro, and asked if anyone else had anything to say. But the smile had frozen on the lips of the curious, and those standing next the dead man contented themselves with stooping to empty his purse. After this the different detachments marched off in good order to the duties assigned them.
Abu el-Kasim rubbed his hands and said, “We’ve brought the business to a happy conclusion, though at considerable expense. Bitt I have no doubt that the Deliverer will fully reimburse me. We must now decide what to say to him, and how to say it, so that we may not contradict one another when the time comes.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir graciously assented, adding, “And it would be well for your slave Michael to go at once to the fortress and begin negotiations with the Spaniards.” He turned to me. “If you can induce them to leave, so much the better. If not, there’s no harm done.”
Having given orders for two soldiers to attend me, he returned to the Courtyard of Bliss. There was nothing for it but to curse my fate and betake myself to the harbor, where troops were putting out fires, building breastworks, and dragging ordnance into position.
