The Wanderer

by Mika Waltari

  Before we set forth for the mosque, Abu wanted to see how Andy was faring. He took me to the cellars of the palace, moved aside an iron trap door and pointed to Andy, who lay sprawled on the hard stone floor below us, moaning in his sleep. His narrow cell was lit by a small window with bars across it as thick as my wrist. He was quite naked, and beside him stood a water jar, which was already empty. The compassionate Abu ordered the guards to refill it, and to lower a great quantity of bread. I pitied Andy deeply, but saw that he must be kept in that bear pit until he had quite recovered, or he would seek to combat the effects of his drinking bout with a fresh one, and his last state would be worse than the first. Lest he should feel lonely when he woke, I left my dog with him in his cell.

  When we had left the evil-smelling cellars and our eyes had become accustomed to the sunlight on the high terrace, we saw the Deliverer just riding through the western gate of the city, followed by a large troop of cavalry. Weapons flashed in the sun, and the vast crowds, which had come to meet him, waved palm branches and shouted and cheered until their voices came to our ears like the boom of a distant sea. Through the quivering heat we could see also a number of vessels riding at anchor in the farther bay. We counted nearly twenty of them, all bedecked with flags and pennants.

  We hastened down into the city, and with difficulty elbowed our way into the packed mosque. We could never have managed it if I had not jingled my bells to make the people believe I was a holy man. They would have made way for us readily enough if I had displayed what I carried under my arm, but I had covered the golden dish with a cloth, for who could tell whether there might not lurk among them some adherent of Selim ben-Hafs?

  Within the mosque an indescribable din prevailed, which reached its climax when with drawn swords Khaireddin’s janissaries and renegades appeared in the doorway and began to clear a path for their lord. Khaireddin himself advanced among his warriors, sending greetings to right and left, and waving his hand. Before him marched a number of standard bearers, and immediately after him the white- bearded Faqih and the eldest sons of the merchants who had already returned, it seemed, from their important pilgrimage. Mustafa ben- Nakir was also of the suite, clad in a splendid kaftan and the Aga’s turban; from time to time he surveyed his well-kept nails.

  I was disappointed at my first sight of Khaireddin, of whom I had heard so much. He was a man of little majesty, being indeed short and rather fat. As a mark of dignity he wore a tall felt cap bound with a turban of white muslin. Strangely enough the turban was not even clean, though it was adorned in front by a crescent of sparkling stones. He went empty handed and had not even a dagger in his girdle. His beard was dyed and there was a smile on his round, catlike face as he walked with short steps across the floor.

  When he reached the reader’s place he made a sign to show that he was going to pray. He uncovered his head, rolled up his sleeves, and in the sight of everyone performed the prescribed ablutions. The Faqih poured water over his hands and the eldest sons of the merchants dried his hands, head, and feet. He then replaced the turban on his head, recited the prayers and three suras of the Koran, while the assembled people listened attentively. The Faqih then sat in the reader’s place and intoned certain verses. He read very beautifully; without difficulty he found passages appropriate to the coming of the Deliverer, and others enjoining mercy, justice, and liberality.

  When the Faqih had read for so long that the people began to grow restless, he at last resigned his place to Khaireddin, who mounted the high seat, crossed his legs under him, and with a slight stammer began to expound the sacred texts in so easy and entertaining a manner that now and then laughter could be heard among his audience. At last he raised his hand gently and said, “My dear children, I have come back to you, impelled by an auspicious dream, and I will never abandon you again. Henceforth I will protect you as a good father should, and you shall endure no more wrongs, for in this city justice shall ever prevail.”

  Emotion threatened to stifle his voice, but wiping tears from his beard he went on, “I would not sadden your hearts by recalling unpleasantness, yet in the name of truth I must admit that it was with a sentiment of profound disgust that I left this place, after my brother Baba Aroush had fallen in the unhappy war with the Sultan of Tel- mesan. Honesty compels me to add that I was very greatly cast down by the ingratitude and deceit with which the inhabitants rewarded my efforts to defend them against the unbelievers. A rancorous man in my position might requite evil with evil. But I seek only justice, and have often repaid a wrong with a good action, as I do today in returning to protect you from the enemy. But I note that no one answers me, and not the meanest present has been brought before me in token of your good intentions. Indeed, I fear that I shall again be overcome by repugnance for this town, and find it desirable to depart more swiftly than I came.”

  The people in alarm began loudly beseeching him not to abandon them to the Spaniards’ wrath; many fell upon their knees, strong men wept, and old men tore their beards to demonstrate their loyalty. Gifts proportionate to the means and standing of the givers were hurriedly brought forward, each man being careful to mention his name and his offering, that both might be recorded in the books. And now before the raised seat of the reader there rose a mighty mound of bales, chests, gold and silver vessels, jewels, baskets of fruit, and a quantity of money; even the poorest made shift to offer at least one silver coin. But Khaireddin surveyed the growing heap without enthusiasm; indeed his face darkened, and at last he raised his hand and said, “I knew that the town of Algiers was poor, but I could not have believed it to be as poor as this. In all the heap before me I cannot see one present of the sort that would appeal to me. Not that I made such a present a condition for my return; nevertheless I believed that you would so far have considered my wishes as to remember it.”

  The congregation were crestfallen indeed at his words, but Abu el-Kasim pinched my arm and together we pushed our way forward to Khaireddin’s throne. Abu el-Kasim addressed him, saying, “Poor though I am, I have awaited your coming with eager impatience, O lord of the sea! See, I bring you a good gift which I am persuaded will find favor in your eyes. Nor do I doubt that you will reward me in a fashion worthy of yourself.”

  The people were accustomed to look upon Abu as a clown; they wondered what this present prank of his might be, and put their hands to their mouths to suppress the burst of laughter they had in readiness. But the smile froze on their lips when, at a sign from Abu, I uncovered the golden dish and he seized Selim’s swollen head by the hair, holding it up for Khaireddin and all the rest to see.

  Now Selim ben-Hafs had in his time sorely injured Khaireddin, so it was no wonder that he laughed arrogantly at the sight of his enemy’s head, and clapping his hands together cried, “You’ve divined my innermost thoughts, good merchant, and your gift outweighs all the injuries done me in this city, which henceforth shall be my capital. Tell me your name.”

  Abu, grimacing in his excitement, gave his name, and Khaireddin contemplated his enemy’s head with rapture. With a sweeping gesture he cried, “Take all this rubbish, Abu el-Kasim my loyal servant, and share as much of it with your slave as you think fit. The givers of these things shall carry them to your house and so appreciate the regard I have for you.”

  For once Abu el-Kasim stood speechless amid the awed murmur of the throng. Then Khaireddin awoke from his rapture and, with a sideways glance at the great heap, added quickly, “Naturally a tenth must be paid into my treasury, as in the case of prizes captured at sea. And further-”

  As by magic Abu el-Kasim regained his speech and sought to drown further retractions by loud cries and the invocation of coundess blessings upon the head of Khaireddin, wherein I seconded him with all my might. The ruler began to relent, and stroked his dyed beard. But the Faqih hastily interposed, saying, “Allah blesses the open- handed, and you, Abu el-Kasim, shall carry nothing away until the mosque has received its fifth of the gold and silver and its tenth of all other wa
res. That the valuation may be fair and impartial, I call upon the foremost merchants of the city to effect it.”

  Abu’s jaw dropped. Looking up reproachfully at Khaireddin he said, “Alas, why did you act with such ostentation, O lord of the sea? You might as easily have given me these things when we were alone together, without witnesses. I could then have decided for myself, according to my own conscience, what my obligations were.”

  Delight in the misfortunes of others is of all delights the keenest, and Abu el-Kasim’s despairing face aroused exultation in the hearts of everyone. He hurled himself madly upon the merchandise and behaved in so eccentric a fashion that not even the great Khaireddin could keep a straight face.

  But at length he wearied of it all, and mindful of his dignity he rose and left the mosque attended by his officers, amid the benedictions of the crowd. Outside he distributed liberal alms. Moved by the general rejoicing, the Turkish janissaries began firing salvos with their muskets, while down in the harbor the artillerymen joined in and discharged their cannon until we were deafened, and market place and mosque were enveloped in smoke. Captain de Varga, the Spanish commander, could hardly be blamed for answering the fire, since the guns in the harbor were trained on the fortress and their shot tore holes in the wall of the keep.

  I fancied the noise was all salutes and salvos until something crashed into the wall of the mosque. I ran out in a fright, to see the great minaret toppling in a cloud of lime dust. Nothing more fortunate for Khaireddin’s purpose could have occurred, for the crowds, filled with righteous indignation, accused the Spaniards with shrieks of deliberately firing upon the mosque.

  Captain de Varga himself must have been appalled at what he had done, for the firing soon ceased. But Khaireddin proclaimed in a voice of thunder that this sacrilege should be the last crime committed by Christians in Algiers. For Abu el-Kasim the incident was a gift from heaven, since the merchants were in a hurry to get home, and the Faqih suddenly remembered that it was his hour for solitary meditation. The valuation of the goods was therefore very summarily performed and much to the advantage of Abu el-Kasim, who professed willingness to remain in the mosque all day for the sake of a fair and equitable assessment.

  Our house in the street of the spice merchants stood at a relatively sheltered corner, and Abu el-Kasim hastened, not without difficulty, to convey his new possessions home. With the help of a few courageous donkey drivers we at last had everything secured behind bolts and bars.

  I began to feel great anxiety about my brother Andy, and wanted to visit the palace and help him in any way I could. At first Abu refused on any account to let me go, saying that the deaf-mute could not be left to guard the treasure alone. But when I mocked him for becoming a slave to his own greed, instead of trusting to Allah as the best watchman, he cursed and swore indeed. Yet he sought out the deaf-mute and, thrusting a cudgel into his hand, ordered him in violent pantomime to stay behind the door and club anyone on the head who tried to enter.

  Abu el-Kasim and I then hastened to the palace, and as we went Abu observed, “Great men have short memories. We must put in a word for your brother and try to get in touch with Sinan the Jew. And if we achieve nothing else, we shall at least be invited to a meal at the palace.”

  We encountered many merchants and sheiks belonging to the most distinguished families in the city. They were coming away from an audience with Khaireddin, and gesticulated excitedly as they discussed what had been said.

  On our arrival we were warmly welcomed by Khaireddin, who sat beneath a canopy on Selim’s red velvet cushion, surrounded by his most eminent officers, of whom I already knew Sinan the Jew and proud Captain Torgut. A map of Algiers harbor lay outspread at Khaireddin’s feet. Pointing to the Spanish fortress and the sandbanks near it he said, “Allah is with us, and I could not have chosen a better moment for the capture of that fortress. It lacks both provisions and powder, the guns are worn, and I have some of my own men there who will do as much damage as they can, and try to convince the Spaniards of the uselessness of resistance. We must waste no time over this little enterprise, for our anchorage is exposed, and the spring victualing flotilla from Cartagena may already have sailed with necessities for the garrison. You shall have eight days in which to effect the capture.”

  Khaireddin explained to each officer what he had to do, and gave orders for the ships to weigh anchor next morning and bombard the fortress from the sea. The shore battery he put under Torgut’s command, since this proud man had risen to his present position from the rank of ordinary gunner. He then commended his officers to Allah’s protection and dismissed them, keeping only Sinan at his side. Mustafa ben-Nakir also remained, being too deeply engrossed in the scansion of a new Persian poem to notice that the others had withdrawn. But now he raised his eyes and stared at me with the veiled look of a sleepwalker, then rose and despite my protests undressed me and gave me in exchange the fine kaftan and the Aga’s turban that he had been wearing. He resumed his own mendicant dress, and the music of its little bells so greatly inspired him that he was soon deep in composition once more.

  I put on the kaftan, but having set the turban upon my head also I quickly removed it and said, “I’m but a slave and have certainly no right to the Aga’s turban. By your favor, O lord of the sea, I lay it at your feet. Bestow it upon some worthier man whom your warriors will obey.”

  Though it was a bitter thing to renounce the plumed and jeweled turban, I thought of the forthcoming siege, and the flaunting of so noticeable and perilous a headdress tempted me not at all. The folds of the kaftan, however, felt unusually thick. As if fate would reward me for my unselfishness, I found two pockets, in each of which was a heavy purse. But I would not expose anyone to temptation by taking them out to examine them. To cap this, Mustafa ben-Nakir contemptuously threw at me my own purse, which I had left in the girdle pocket of his dress, for men of his sect despise money beyond everything.

  While I was putting on the kaftan, Sinan the Jew suddenly spoke. “What do I seep Is this not the angel Michael, my slave, whom I lent to Abu el-Kasim, to help him prepare the way for the Deliverer?”

  He rose and embraced me warmly, taking care at the same time to feel the stuff of my kaftan; for it was indeed a superb garment, embroidered all over with gold and having gold buttons set with green stones. Abu el-Kasim was pale with envy, but Sinan the Jew turned to Khaireddin and said, “Believe me, Khaireddin, this man who has chosen the right path brings good fortune with him, for he has a singular gift for creeping in and out through the smallest keyhole, and whatever happens to him he falls on his feet, like a cat. With all this he bears ill will to no one, and would have everyone be happy in his own fashion.”

  Abu el-Kasim broke in hotly, “Don’t listen to him, lord of the sea! Michael is the laziest, greediest, most ungrateful man on earth. If he had any sense of what is fitting he would change kaftans with me, for what is he but my slave?”

  Khaireddin replied, “That kaftan becomes him better than it would you, and he needs such a one, so I’m told, to win the heart of a certain vain woman. Your secrets I have already learned from Mustafa ben- Nakir here, when he appeared before me as the ear and eye of the High Porte. This, of course, I ought not to have mentioned, and I can’t think how it came to slip over my tongue.”

  Abu el-Kasim was thrown into a great fright by this, and made haste to kiss the ground before Mustafa ben-Nakir, and would have kissed his feet too, if the poet had not kicked him. But I said, “Lord, may your slave address you? While laughter wrinkles are yet radiant about your eyes, let me put in a word for my brother, lying now in fear of death in the dungeon beneath our feet. Let him be fetched and let me speak on his behalf, for he’s a foolish, simple man, incapable of arranging words in a seemly manner.”

  Khaireddin replied, “Not so, let us go ourselves to fetch the notable Antar, of whose strength I have heard such tales. But don’t betray me. Let me stand by unknown, and hear what he says when he wakes.”

 
We left Mustafa ben-Nakir to finish his poem and descended to the cellar floor-Khaireddin, Sinan, Abu el-Kasim, and myself. The jailer shoved aside the iron trap door, and each of us in turn was lowered into the cell, where my dog Rael at once greeted me with joyful barks. Andy woke and sat up, holding his head in both hands and staring at us bleary eyed. The water jar was empty and all the bread eaten, and he had indescribably befouled the floor all about him. After glaring at us for some time he asked in a feeble voice, “What’s happened? Where am I? Why weren’t you with me, Michael, in the hour of my degradation? Only this brute beast witnessed my awakening, and licked my aching head in pity.”

  He put his hand to his stomach and groaned.

  “You may remember,” I said hesitantly, “that Sultan Selim ben- Hafs is dead?”

  Andy looked blank. Then a spark of intelligence appeared in his round eyes. He looked wildly about and whispered, “I remember it very well. But didn’t we agree that it was an accident? Don’t tell me the truth has been discovered? Where is the wise Amina? She will explain everything. How could she let them throw me into this cess pit and leave me here stripped and beaten, after all I did for her and the other women?”

  “Andy,” I said gently, “bear this like a man. I have to tell you that by the will of Allah Amina and her son are dead.”

  Andy pressed himself against the stone wall, wide-eyed with horror, and exclaimed, “You can’t mean that in my drunkenness I was so rough as to kill her? Never, never have I offered violence to any woman.” He rocked to and fro with his head in his hands and mourned. “It can’t be true, unless the devil bewitched me-for certainly he dwells in the sealed wine jars of this country.”