by Mika Waltari
The boatman had not far to take me, but the round keep and massive walls of the fortress seemed to grow ever darker and more menacing as we approached. When we had covered half the distance a shot was fired from a little cannon on the wall, and the ball fell so near my boat that the splash of it drenched me. In my alarm I began to jump up and down waving the skirts of my kaftan and shrieking in my best Latin that I was the Sultan’s messenger. We should certainly have capsized had not the boatman pulled me down again on to my seat. But there was no more firing, and as soon as I was within earshot a monk in a black habit appeared on the jetty and addressed me in Latin, asking in God’s name what had happened, and blessing my arrival, since great anxiety prevailed in the fortress.
We drew alongside the jetty, and I demanded in the name of the Sultan to speak with the garrison commander. While this officer was changing into clothes worthy of the Sultan’s envoy, the monk set wine before me, and would have offered me food had supplies allowed. But these were dwindling now that purchases in the city had become impracticable. So guileless was this good man that he asked me to send my boatman back to fetch meat and greenstuff, for the wounded especially were suffering from the lack of these victuals.
I soon gathered that no one in the fortress had the least idea of what had happened in the town. For ten years the garrison had led a lazy, peaceful life, and it was thought that I had come to beg forgiveness on the Sultan’s behalf. Selim ben-Hafs had always regarded these Spaniards as his only protection against Khaireddin.
This situation only increased my dread of the wrath which my errand might arouse in Captain de Varga, the Spanish commander, and I sought to stiffen my courage with deep draughts of wine.
At last Captain de Varga appeared, in shining armor, attended by the Spanish consul who had fled from the town with the soldiers. The consul had a bump on his forehead and was in a state of intense excitement because his house had been looted. Captain de Varga spoke a little Latin, and was a proud, resolute man; yet in consequence of his inactive life he had put on weight, so that the costly armor pinched him here and there: a circumstance in no way tending to increase his good will toward me.
First he asked what had happened in the city, and why the Sultan’s troops as well as the townspeople had so treacherously attacked his own almost unarmed men and caused such damage to property. At this point the consul, the veins swelling at his temples, shouted that the losses he had sustained far exceeded in value the lives of a few blockheads of soldiers. He demanded full compensation and a new and better house, for which he had already chosen the site.
When at last I had a chance to speak I chose my words with care: “Noble Captain, most excellent Consul, and Reverend Father! Sultan Selim ben-Hafs, blessed be his name, died this morning by accident. He slipped and fell in the baths, breaking his neck. After much discussion among his fatherless sons, the seven-year-old Mohammed has assumed the kaftan and ascended the throne. He has secured his position by distributing money among his loyal troops, and beside him as counselor stands his wise mother Amina. His elder brothers will not oppose him, for in the course of a meal a datestone lodged in each of their throats and choked them. No doubt the hand of fate thus intervened to prevent disputes over the succession.
“But,” I went on with a quaking heart, though still looking Captain de Varga steadfastly in the eye, “while all this was taking place in accordance with the time-honored customs of this city, a horde of pillaging Spaniards arrived, bringing artillery with them. I hold you in no way to blame, noble Captain, for this gross infringement of national rights. The lawless rabble must have left the fortress without your permission, and profited by the ruler’s death to bring disorder to the town. Nevertheless they desecrated the mosque, willfully defiled the holy Marabout’s tomb, and then opened fire on the kasbah, no doubt with the object of seizing the treasury. The Aga was compelled to dispatch a few cavalrymen to drive them forth with as little violence as possible. The Spaniards then overran the city, looting the homes of the faithful and ravishing their good wives. To prevent further disorders, the Sultan has been graciously pleased to sever communications between fortress and city, lest the people, enraged at the pollution of the mosque and tomb, should return evil for evil and attack the fort. The Sultan has also ordered the digging of trenches about the harbor, where he has set up his artillery, as you may see for yourself. But these measures have been adopted solely to protect the fortress and to prevent fresh violence, which might prejudice the friendly relations now happily existing between the Emperor of Spain and the Sultan of Algiers.”
Wine had so loosened my tongue that I was moved by my own eloquence. The consul listened open mouthed, but the Dominican crossed himself repeatedly and said in tones of satisfaction, “It’s only proper that our Christian soldiers should have desecrated the mosque and tomb of the infidels, and I cannot sufficiently praise them. All too often have we seen Moslems trample the Cross underfoot, to enrage us.”
Captain de Varga bade him hold his tongue, and looking at me darkly he said, “You lie. I sent the patrol ashore to discover the reason for the shooting in the kasbah, entirely in the interests of Selim ben- Hafs; but my men fell into the trap prepared, and only their good discipline saved them from utter annihilation. If there has been looting and arson the Moslems themselves have committed it, to cover their own misdeeds.”
I bowed low and said, “I have heard you, noble Captain. All that remains for me to do is to return to the Sultan and inform him that you distort the truth, harden your heart, and do your utmost to cloud the cordial relations that have hitherto existed between the Hafsids and the Emperor, your master.”
“Wait!” said Captain de Varga hastily. Taking a paper from the consul he read it through and went on, “I ask nothing better than to see those happy relations restored, and I’m willing to forget the whole incident in return for indemnification for damaged property and weapons, and for the suffering caused-and also the customary compensation to the families of the fallen. I will accept in all the sum of twenty-eight thousand Spanish gold pieces, half to be paid before the infidels’ sunset prayer, and the other half within three months, as I realize the young Sultan will have other expenses to meet at the beginning of his reign.”
I exclaimed at the very thought of so fabulous a sum, but Captain de Varga raised his hand and continued, “To prevent future misunderstandings I claim the right to build an artillery tower in the harbor, near the mosque. Further, the Sultan shall have a Spaniard for his vizier who must be allowed an armed bodyguard, to be maintained at the expense of the treasury.”
I perceived from these terms that he was a farsighted man who served the Emperor well, and was in all respects a worthy foe. Genuine tears came to my eyes as I knelt before him and begged him to strike off my head rather than send me back to the Sultan with such a message, for the Sultan would certainly not spare me. In so doing I relied on his honor as a nobleman and was not disappointed, for he bade me rise, and said, “Serve me faithfully, persuade the Sultan that I’m in earnest, and I’ll allow no harm to come to you. Tell him that my gunners stand with smoldering matches, that I mean to bombard the city with red-hot shot and that I shall occupy the harbor unless I receive a favorable answer by the hour of morning prayer tomorrow.”
“Allah is great,” said I. “Since you trust me, let me give you some good advice. Don’t threaten too much, or the Sultan-moved by wicked counselors and by the angry populace-may send word to the great Khaireddin, to make a treaty with him, and with his help expel you from your island.”
He laughed. “Renegade, you’re a wily fellow! But even a seven- year-old boy would hardly be so foolish as to saw off the bough he sits on. If he called Khaireddin he’d get more than he bargained for. But I’ll listen to any proposals the Sultan may make when he has heard my terms.”
Notwithstanding his laughter I could see that the very name of Khaireddin had startled him; and so I said, “My lord and protector! You need not send me away, for I
bring you the Sultan’s proposals. He demands nothing but fair compensation for the damage done by the Spaniards’ raid, and a thousand gold pieces to buy rose water for the purification of the mosque and the Marabout’s tomb. He is willing even to reconsider the question of compensation, provided you block up all loopholes commanding the city under supervision of his officials. If you reject these proposals the Sultan.will be compelled to assume an intention on your part to interfere in internal affairs, and will then seek help wherever it may be found, to prevent further conspiracy.”
“God save us!” said Captain de Varga, crossing himself. “The terms are harder than I expected, but I know how suspicious these infidels are; because they plot incessantly they fancy others do the same. But I’m a Castilian; I will die rather than surrender-for surrender it would be. My last word is this: let us talk no more of compensation on either side. We’re all human; we’re all liable to err. I’ll even punish the culprits who have desecrated the holy places-if indeed that tale is true. But I cannot afford rose water.”
The consul wailed and the monk deplored the punishment of Christian men who had deserved reward. But Captain de Varga said, “As you sec my aims are conciliatory, and in that respect diametrically opposed to those of my advisers. Further I cannot go. If your lord won’t listen, my guns must speak. Warn him above all against Khaireddin, for the least approach to that godless pirate will be regarded by me as an act of hostility toward my lord the Emperor.”
He handed me a worn leather purse containing ten gold pieces, and I concealed my amazement that the Emperor should allow this loyal young officer to languish in such poverty. I was then honorably escorted to the jetty and at my desire-perhaps also to persuade me that he had plenty of gunpowder-he ordered a salute to be fired as we shoved off. His proud credulity astonished me and caused me to reflect that in all negotiation the honest man is bound to come off worst, while bluff wins every point.
The whole affair had gone better than I could have hoped, and my conscience was clear, for I had given him plainly to understand that he had Khaireddin to reckon with as an adversary. I stepped ashore well satisfied, and observed that the fires in the harbor quarter had been put out and that many of the gun emplacements were completed. These works would have been gravely impeded by bombardment from the fortress; my negotiations had therefore fulfilled their purpose.
On my return to the kasbah I was taken at once to the garden of the Courtyard of Bliss where Mustafa ben-Nakir, reclining at ease on a down pillow beneath a canopy, was reading Persian poems to my master Abu el-Kasim. They mentioned discreetly that Amina was no more, and while I felt no great regret I thought anxiously of Andy’s despair when he woke from his drunken stupor and learned of his beloved’s death. Mustafa divined my thoughts and said, “Allah is swift in judgment. We spoke with the woman and know that she exploited your brother’s simplicity for her own wicked ends. She bribed the eunuchs to leave Selim ben-Hafs alone with your brother in the bathhouse. So, Michael, you needn’t wonder that in righteous indignation at such treachery we arranged for her to be strangled by the eunuchs. We had your brother’s best interests at heart.”
“Yes, indeed,” put in Abu el-Kasim. “But, reflecting that the fruit never falls far from the tree, we had Amina’s son removed at the same time. This makes matters simpler for Khaireddin, who might have been inconvenienced if the boy had lived and gone over to the Spaniards, thus giving them a pretext to interfere in the succession.”
I now perceived that Mustafa ben-Nakir had deliberately sent me out of the way lest I should hinder these shady doings, and I pitied the little boy who had held his mother’s hand and stumbled over the long kaftan, and who had now perished in so sorrowful a manner.
I went back then to Abu el-Kasim’s house. The stars were already glittering in the heavens. Many people were awake upon the housetops, and in the still night I heard the sound of laughter, of stringed instruments, and of dovelike cooings. My heart was gentle as I stepped into the house and called out that I had come home. My dog ran up in the darkness to lick my hand, while Giulia lit the lamp and said, “Is that you, Michael, and alone? Where have you been all this time, and where is Abu? I’ve lain awake wondering if something terrible had happened. There’s been fighting in the town and they say the Deliverer will soon be here. And when I came home I found a great hole in the floor and feared that robbers had broken in.”
Her affectionate anxiety melted my heart still further and I said, “Nothing terrible has happened. Everything indeed is going better than I could have hoped. The Deliverer will come tomorrow at cockcrow, and for you great things-happier things than you can imagine-are in store. So let us make much of one another, for spring is here and we’re alone in the house with none to see us save the dog, who need not make us bashful.”
Giulia clapped her hands for joy and cried, “How I long to see the great Deliverer who rules the seas! Surely he’ll reward me very generously for having so diligently foretold the future on his behalf, and prepared the way for his coming. Perhaps he will allow me to look into the sand alone with him. They say his beard is soft, and chestnut brown. He has certainly all the wives the law allows him, and the mother of his son is a direct descendant of the Prophet. Still, he may incline to me and keep me beside him.”
Her prattle oppressed me, and when I sought to fold her in my arms she quickly veiled her face, stamped on my toes and said, “Are you out of your mind, Michael, to behave thus in the absence of our master? Control yourself. And where did you get that fine kaftan? If you would give it to me I could make a charming jacket out of it.”
She began eagerly feeling the material; in the dim light of the lamp she was so marvelously beautiful that I could not resist her, and reluctantly I let her remove the kaftan, which indeed was the most splendid garment I had ever worn. She crushed it in her bare arms, greedily breathing in its pleasant scent of musk, and cried, “Will you really give it to me, Michael? If so you may kiss me, but in all innocence. I’m a fiery woman and have trouble enough as it is to protect my virtue.”
She allowed me to kiss her cheek and even offered me her lips, but when I would have taken her in my arms she struggled and threatened to scream and stamped on my toes until I had to let her go. As soon as she was free she fled with the kaftan to her alcove, slamming and locking the grille and deriding my prayers and tears. As I stood there half-naked shaking the wrought-iron gate I remembered for the first time that I had left my slave clothes in the kasbah, and so had nothing to put on to greet the Deliverer in the morning.
Tossing sleepless on my bed that night I was yet comforted by the thought that tomorrow Giulia would be my slave and my lawful property. I resolved to exact full requital for her torment of me, and hoped that she was not quite indifferent, since she had shown such anxiety for me and had accepted my kaftan as a present. Comforted I fell asleep and did not wake until the cocks of the city began to crow, and the joyful voice of the muezzin proclaimed that prayer was better than sleep. I looked up and saw to my astonishment that the muezzin was leaping and dancing on the balcony of the minaret; now he was proclaiming the coming of the Deliverer. Rising hastily, I flung on what garments I could find, grasped Giulia’s hand and sped with her up the steep street leading to the palace. The dog followed us with joyous barks, trying to tug at the cloak I had thrown over my shoulders.
The whole populace was on its feet, some running to the palace, but most hastening to the western gates to meet the Deliverer beyond the walls and follow him into the city. They laughed and pointed at me and the dog, but I took no notice, reflecting that he laughs best who laughs last. We had a setback at the palace gates, however, for the guards flatly refused us admission, but fortunately a scared eunuch appeared, who recognized me. Stammering with fear he promised to take me to Abu el-Kasim, and begged me in return to say a good word for him. In my extremity I promised all he asked, and he led me through the Courtyard of Bliss to a small room where Abu el- Kasim, with red-rimmed eyes and clearly
in a bad humor, was just finishing his breakfast. A flock of slave women were in attendance, but although they held up one magnificent kaftan after another and besought him to make haste and dress since Mustafa ben-Nakir and his suite had long since ridden to meet the Deliverer, he cut them over the shins with a cane and said, “No! I’m a poor man and dislike strutting in borrowed plumage. Bring my plain spice merchant’s cloak whose smells are familiar to me and whose fleas know me. In that garment I have served the Deliverer and in that garment I will meet him, that with his own eyes he may behold my poverty.”
The slaves wrung their hands and with lamentations brought out the ragged old cloak. Abu smelt it joyfully, combed out hair and beard with his fingers and allowed the terrified eunuch to help him on with the dreadful garment. Then only did he turn his eyes to me and say angrily, “Where in Allah’s name have you been, Michael? I hope you haven’t lost the golden dish and the Sultan’s head? We should have been in the mosque long ago, to meet the Deliverer.”
I had in fact not the remotest idea what had become of these things, and I hastened off on a frantic search through the various courtyards. Luckily the friendly eunuch came to my help; he had taken care of both head and dish and set them on the top of a pillar. No harm was done, therefore, except that Selim’s head had begun to take on a most hideous appearance, and that the dish seemed much smaller than before.
With these objects under my arm I returned to Abu el-Kasim, and was distressed to behold Giulia embracing and kissing and coaxing that remarkably unhandsome man. He wept, but was prevailed upon at last to send the slave women to the store chamber of the harem, and they returned with such a wealth of veils and slippers that Giulia was hard put to it to decide what pleased her best.
To me Abu el-Kasim gave Mustafa ben-Nakir’s mendicant dress, which after some hesitation I put on. Being used to garments reaching to the ground, I had the uneasy sensation of nakedness from the waist down. But the tunic was of the finest and softest stuff, and with every step I took the bells rang so sweetly that Giulia surveyed me wide eyed and assured me that I need not be ashamed of my bare knees and shapely calves. She sent for the necessary ointments and rapidly painted my hands and feet orange color, and then, since no headdress was worn with this costume, she oiled my hair with fine oils and applied blue beneath my eyes so that I hardly recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.
