by Mika Waltari
Giulia, deeply offended, said, “But Michael, he’s a Christian like myself. Would you deprive me of the pleasure of conversing now and then in my own language with a fellow countryman? You have your brother Andrew; you talk together in your mother tongue so that I can’t understand a word you say. Why grudge me this little consolation in my loneliness?”
I was moved by Giulia’s innocence of heart in this matter, when as a rule she was so shrewd and experienced. I said gently, “Dear Giulia, don’t misunderstand what I am going to say. Not in my wildest dreams could I ever suspect you of unfaithfulness. Yet as a husband I find it irksome in the extreme to share my house with a young man, and one whom simple-minded people might consider good looking. I know that I can trust you, but it’s my duty to safeguard your good name. I could endure him better if he were a eunuch-and indeed,” I went on, fired by the idea, “it’s not too late to make him one; he’s still fairly young. Though at one time I thought the risk of financial loss too great, because of the frequent fatality of the operation, I saw many in Buda-some of them older than Alberto-who were none the worse for it. Let us see to this immediately. Then neither I nor anyone else can have the least objection to his living in the house.”
Giulia gazed at me very searchingly as if wondering whether I were in earnest. Then a queer smile overspread her face and without a word she clapped her hands to summon Alberto. When he came she said to him, “Alberto, your master suspects that your presence here is harmful to my reputation and wishes to make a eunuch of you. He declares that the operation will not injure your health. What have you to say to this?”
Alberto’s dark face paled a little, perhaps, and he glanced at me as if judging the size of my neck. Then he turned to Giulia with an expressionless smile and answered meekly, “Madam, if I must choose between gelding and the galleys, you know what my answer will be. I don’t pretend to look forward to so disagreeable an ordeal, but my consolation is my utter indifference to women. My one desire is to devote my life to your service, and if I can please my master by submitting to this operation I will seek out a competent surgeon without delay.”
The noble candor o£ this speech made me ashamed of my meditated brutality. At the same time a great weight was lifted from my heart, for if he was indeed as indifferent to women as he averred I had nothing to fear on Giulia’s account. Giulia, narrowly watching my face, said, “Well, Michael, I hope you’re properly ashamed? Is a slave to teach you nobility of conduct? You see now that there are still unselfish and loyal people in the world, and that everyone is not as ill natured as yourself. Make a eunuch of him if you like, but if you do I will never set eyes upon you again, so despicable would you then appear to me.”
By this time I was feeling like some unnatural monster, but seeing my indecision Alberto fell on his knees before me in tears and cried, “No, no, my dear master! Don’t listen to her, but have me castrated at once, for I cannot bear your distrust. I swear I shall lose nothing by it; to me women are no more than sticks and stones. The good God has given me the heart of a eunuch, for all my beard.”
They worked on me together until to my own surprise I found myself begging Giulia not to treat this selfless man so harshly. She wept and agreed to let all be as before, provided I never mentioned the matter again or insulted her faithful servant with my base suspicions. She further reminded me that if the Sultan could eat with his slave, so could I, and that Alberto was no scullion but a major-domo, such as was found in the most distinguished Venetian families.
Though still reluctant, I was ready to agree to anything that might mollify Giulia. We went early to bed that night and she showed herself fully reconciled to me.
Of her doings in the Seraglio she would not speak. All in good time, she told me; for the moment I need know no more than that the Kisler-Aga was singularly well disposed toward her, and that she had received countless presents from the women of the harem and from her Greek and Jewish friends. I did not press her, or sadden her by remarking that most of the presents seemed to me worthless trash.
Early next morning a richly dressed eunuch arrived to take me to the Seraglio, where he bade me present myself to the Kislar-Aga. This fat, ruthless man, whose Negro blood gave his cheeks a gray tinge, received me most cordially and allowed me to help him to his feet, that he might accompany me to the Court of Bliss.
This unwonted civility greatly astonished me, but the whole Seraglio was in a sunny mood because of the Sultan’s return. Nowhere was a surly face to be seen. From the meanest slave to the highest official all were smiling-all dispensed blessings to right and left. I was showered with benedictions; my footsteps and my very toenails were blessed, and I was told that I was fairer than the moon, despite the scar left on my cheek by de Varga’s teeth, which had somewhat disfigured one corner of my mouth. The torrent carried me with it and I exerted myself to make ever more graceful replies, calling down blessings on the very shadows of those I met.
The Kislar-Aga told me that Sultana Khurrem had presented the Sultan with a daughter during his absence, in whose ear the name Mirmah had been whispered. She was fairer than the moon and the Kislar-Aga could not sufficiently praise the Sultana for bearing her lord a child each time he went to war, and being consequently ever merrier and more beautiful on his return than she had been at his departure. The Kislar-Aga was evidently satisfied that Sultana Khurrem still enjoyed the Sultan’s favor.
Engrossed in this animated conversation I had not time to look about me until the Kislar-Aga suddenly kicked the back of my knee as a hint to prostrate myself. We had come through the Court of Bliss into the Princes’ playroom, and to my amazement I found myself in the presence of Suleiman himself. With the Grand Vizier beside him as usual he was showing his sons how to work some toys of Nurnberg make, which he had brought home for them. There was a horse that moved its legs and drew a cart, a drummer that beat his drum, and many other marvelous things such as had been found in profusion in the nurseries of Buda Palace.
The boys knelt about him on the floor. Mustafa the eldest looked on in dignified silence; he was as dazzlingly beautiful as his mother-now fallen from favor-was said to be. The lively Muhammed shrieked with delight. Selim stretched out his hands for every toy, while nearest his father stood little Prince Jehangir. He rested his chin trustfully on Suleiman’s silken sleeve so that the hump, alas, showed all too plainly beneath the little kaftan. His dark eyes gazed at the gaily painted toys as if penetrating their vanity, as if in his heart, child though he was, he meditated upon the baffling mysteries of life and death.
When the Sultan saw me he dropped the toys, smiled for once without constraint, and said merrily, “Blessings on you, Michael el- Hakim, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet! May every hair of your head and beard be blessed and may your wife bear you only sons. But in the name of Allah do not bless me in return, for I’ve weathered such a storm of benisons already that now as soon as anyone opens his mouth I begin to laugh. Pay no attention to me, for it is Prince Jehangir who wishes to receive you in a worthy manner.”
I rose to my knees to kiss Prince Jehangir’s thin hand. His sallow face flushed with joy and he stumbled excitedly over his words as he patted my cheeks and cried, “O Michael el-Hakim, Michael el- Hakim! I have a surprise for you-a bigger surprise than you can ever guess!”
This was enough to show me that at least no evil had befallen my dog, and I was now to learn that Rael had earned high regard and had founded a family. Prince Jehangir hurried me off to see three adorable black-and-white puppies lying with their mother in a kiosk that had been fitted out as a splendid kennel.
“Allah is Allah!” I cried, and the tears ran down my cheeks at Rael’s ecstatic welcome. “How has this come about?”
Prince Mustafa said to me in his grown-up fashion, “We didn’t know that breed of dog, and the kennel master despised Rael. But when I saw how faithfully he served my little brother I thought I would find out more about him. The Venetian envoy knew the breed and sai
d that in spite of harsh treatment in the past, Rael had all the points of the best variety of Italian house dog. We bought a mate for him from the Duke of Mantua, and the result you may see in that basket. Tell me how Rael came into your possession and what his pedigree is, so that we can record it in our kennel book, with the names of the puppies.”
I was at a loss for what to say, for I had picked Rael up as a stray in the courtyard of Memmingen town hall. All I knew was that he was a good, pious dog that had resolutely endured the torture of the Holy Inquisition and been acquitted. I explained this to Prince Mustafa and told him how faithfully Rael had served me and how he had saved my life when I lay dying of the plague among the corpses in the streets of Rome.
The Sultan and his sons listened sympathetically to my story, and the Grand Vizier said thoughtfully, “Feel no concern about the dog’s pedigree, Prince Mustafa. He will begin one for himself. Perhaps there is greater honor in founding a noble line than in basing one’s position on old and tainted blood.”
At the time I paid no heed to Ibrahim’s words, but later I had reason to remember them, for they had acquired a terrible significance. And indeed no sooner were they spoken than he started, and passing his hand over his brow he smiled and said hastily, “Ah, Prince Jehangir, the audience is not ended. Remember that the son of the Sultan has the privilege of requiting gifts with even richer rewards.”
Prince Jehangir clapped his hands and a red-clad eunuch entered the room bearing a sealed leather purse which he handed to me, and which I judged to contain at least a hundred ducats. I offered Prince Jehangir my best thanks and we returned to the playroom. But my good fortune was not yet complete, for there the Sultan said to me, “My friend the Grand Vizier has spoken of you and I know you have exposed yourself to great danger in my service. For that very reason you were absent when I was dispensing rewards to my warriors outside Vienna, and so you missed your share. I must not insult my son Jehangir by giving you more than he did, so you shall claim an equal sum from the Defterdar. But with the Grand Vizier I can and should compete in generosity; tell me therefore what he has promised you!”
The day was indeed ruled by my lucky star. I glanced at the Grand Vizier and at his encouraging wink I prostrated myself and babbled eagerly some quite incomprehensible words. My behavior must have been most ridiculous, for the Sultan laughed till he cried. The Princes laughed too, and tried to mimic my stammering. Then Suleiman said, “I gather that the Grand Vizier has promised you many remarkable things, but try to speak a little more coherently.”
“A plot of land!” I gasped at length. “The Grand Vizier has promised me a little plot of land from his gardens on the Bosphorus, and a small house, for my dearest wish has ever been to serve you, O Commander of the Faithful, and after all my checkered years of wandering I long to find a home. The Grand Vizier has even promised to pay the costs of this from his own coffers.”
The Sultan laughed again and said, “And to vie with him I authorize you to take from the Seraglio storehouses such carpets, cushions, mattresses, cooking pots, dishes, and other furniture as you may need to put your house in a habitable condition. From the arsenal you may take a light rowing boat roofed at the stern, that you may be sheltered from sun and rain on your journeys to and from the Seraglio.”
But this day of marvels was not even yet at an end, for when I visited Defterdar Iskender to claim the extra purse, this noble gray- bearded tseleb bent a hostile look upon me and said sternly, “For some reason that passes my understanding you are climbing into high favor, Michael el-Hakim, and I feel it my duty to remind you of your position. As Defterdar I cannot permit any slave of the Sultan to get into debt, far less seek the aid of Greek and Jewish usurers. Why should I waste money thus, instead of allowing it to circulate freely within the Seraglio and at length return to the treasury? You should pay for your building works through me, Michael el-Hakim, for I would give you good terms. You treat me most unfairly by employing idolatrous riffraff for work which might otherwise bring into the treasury a portion at least of all that has been lavished upon you in gifts.”
Much disturbed, I stammered, “Noble Defterdar-tseleb, you are quite mistaken, for the work is to be carried out by Sinan the Builder and I have no intention of depriving the treasury of its dues. But my wife I regret to say is a Christian, and in my absence she was so foolish as to incur debts in my name. I fear she has fallen into the hands of rascally Greeks. To behead these men at once would be the simplest way of releasing me from the burden of debts, whose total I have not dared to ascertain.”
The Defterdar glanced at the roll in his hand, gritted his teeth, and hissed, “Your debts have reached the dizzy figure of eight hundred and fifty-three ducats, thirty aspers, and I cannot think how those shrewd Greeks dared give your wife so extensive a credit.”
I snatched the turban from my head and wept, saying, “Noble Defterdar, forgive me, and take these two purses in part payment. Be assured that I will live on bread and water and wear garments of sackcloth until I have discharged this terrible debt. You have my salary as guarantee.”
My sincere consternation moved the hardhearted Defterdar, and he said, “Let this be a warning to you. A slave cannot contract debts, for in the last resort the treasury must pay them and may have no other way of reimbursing itself than by making use of the silken noose. Nevertheless your lucky star has prevailed, for by order of Sultana Khurrem I have already discharged to the last asper the debts your wife so frivolously contracted. Be thankful, therefore, for your unmerited good fortune and in future keep your wife under better control.”
He gave me a list of the receipts, and as he did so he looked at me searchingly as if pondering what manner of man I was. He knew that thanks to the Grand Vizier my salary had been increased, and he must have wondered how at the same time my wife could be in favor with Ibrahim’s rival, the Sultana. It was evident that he himself belonged to the Sultana’s adherents, and of course I had every reason to be grateful for her generosity to my deluded wife. Yet I would not be so foolish as to modify my loyalty to the Grand Vizier on that account.
Hardly had I come home and begun to tell Giulia of these events than her face darkened and she asked sharply what I had to complain of, since the Sultana had been so bountiful as to discharge our debts. Any other man, she said, would have thanked and praised his wife for such skillful management, but from now on I might handle my own affairs and she would not lift a finger to help me. I said, “I ask no better. But now let us inspect your plot of land and consider the best way of getting rid of it.”
We hired a boat and glided first along the shore of the Bosphorus, past Galata and the dervish monastery. When we had gazed for some time at Grand Vizier Ibrahim’s beautiful gardens Giulia relapsed into a very thoughtful silence. We returned across the Golden Horn with its myriad shipping and on beyond the Seraglio until we could see the Palace of the Seven Towers before us. We went ashore below the ruins, and a steep goat track led us up through their desolation to a little herb garden and a quantity of water-logged timber. At the bottom of the hole that the workmen had dug for the foundations of Giulia’s house could be seen the broken arches of ancient brick vaults. The place was bleak, barren, and in every way uninviting for a human dwelling, though the view over the Marmara was very beautiful. As I stood silently pondering what was to be done, a most excellent idea came into my head and I said, “Now that Andy is married, Giulia, he is sure to need a house in Istanbul. Why should we not let him have this valuable land for a modest sum? He loves to work with stones and here he can do that to his heart’s content. I could make him comfortably drunk before I show him the property.”
For some reason I had not troubled to mention Andy’s wealth or to confess that it was to him I owed my well-filled purse and the presents
I had bought her; she therefore observed scornfully that he could never afford it. My brilliant idea so carried me away that I told her of his good fortune and of his wife’s estates. Giulia stiffened and
an ugly expression came over her face as she exclaimed, “O Michael, you blockhead! Why in God’s name did you not marry the girl yourself? As a Moslem you’re allowed as many as four wives. But it was like you to let the chance of a lifetime slip through your fingers for the sake of that oaf of a foster brother.”
In her fury she turned pale again with another attack of nausea, but when she had recovered I said soothingly, “Giulia, my dear one, how can you suppose I should ever think of any other wife but you?”
Giulia answered with a sob, “I could have brought up a callow girl like that in the best possible manner and treated her like a sister. Later when she had borne you a child, who knows but what she might have swallowed some unwholesome mushroom sauce, or fallen sick of the fever that’s so common in Istanbul? Stranger things have happened. We could then have inherited her property. I think only of your welfare, Michael, and would never stand in the way of your good fortune.”
I repented now more than ever of having so imperfectly appreciated the merits of the young Hungarian girl, but consoled myself with the thought of selling that useless land to Andy. On our way home Giulia stared at me repeatedly and shook her head as if bafHed by my irrational behavior.
When we were at home again and seated at our meal, Alberto’s hovering presence irritated me so much that I said angrily, “Last time I was in the Seraglio I hit upon an excellent plan to dispel all suspicions about Alberto and safeguard your reputation, Giulia. Tomorrow I shall buy him a eunuch’s dress which in future he must always wear. No one will ask awkward questions so long as he acts the part on his walks abroad.”
