by Mika Waltari
My sensible proposal appealed to neither of them; they exchanged glances that revealed their loathsome complicity and Giulia so far forgot herself as to say, “Why, eunuchs are beardless! Alberto’s beautiful curly beard makes such a disguise impossible.”
She stretched forth her hand with the freedom of ownership to feel his short beard, but I snatched back her hand and said, “He must shave it off-he must shave twice a day if need be-and he must eat rich food until his cheeks are plump and oily. Things cannot go on as they are.”
Despite vehement opposition I had my way in this matter and the weeping Alberto was compelled to shave off his beard and array himself in the yellow garments of a eunuch. For Giulia soon perceived the advantage of this arrangement-eunuchs fetched a far higher price than ordinary slaves, and she felt both wealthy and distinguished when she walked about the city with the seeming eunuch in attendance. I now did all I could to fatten him and at times made him eat a whole dish of greasy food, regardless of his cries for mercy. Soon I had the satisfaction of seeing his cheeks grow round and glossy and his empty Italian beauty fade into plumpness. The fatter he grew the better I liked him.
So our life came gradually to run in more peaceful channels, and not many weeks had passed before Giulia came to me, pressed her cheek to mine and murmured that I was soon to be a father. I marveled that she should have discovered this so soon, but she declared she was experienced in these matters; also she had had a dream in which she held my child in her arms. I both doubted and hoped, but soon my physician’s eye detected the outward signs of her condition.
Ineffable joy filled my heart; I no longer thought only of myself, for the expected increase in my family laid new responsibilities upon me and I dreamed ambitious dreams for my unborn son. Giulia showed me great fondness and I did all I could to avoid distressing her. So throughout that lovely spring we lived like a pair of turtle doves, building our nest.
I shall begin a new book to tell of my house and of my advancement in the Seraglio, of Grand Vizier Ibrahim’s statesmanship, and of Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben-Nakir, who had been so long absent from my sight.
BOOK 7.
The House on the Bosphorus
THAT spring, radiant with fair hopes, did not pass in idleness; my new duties in the Grand Vizier’s service kept me fully occupied. The times seemed not to favor the Ottoman Empire, for the Emperor Charles, having succeeded in making peace with the King of France and the Pope, now strove to consolidate his power in the European countries and to unite them for a decisive assault on Islam. After the successful defense of Vienna he induced the Pope to crown him emperor in Bologna, and in the course of the spring he called a German Diet in Augsburg to prepare a final attack on the Protestants.
Khaireddin alone, from his base in Algeria, waged war upon him and won a great victory over Admiral Portundo, who was convoying the coronation guests on their return from Italy to Spain. For these noblemen and courtiers alone, Khaireddin extorted ransoms amounting to tens of thousands of ducats, though for Admiral Portundo himself he demanded only Captain Torgut in exchange. This officer had been taken prisoner by Christians and chained to a rower’s bench, where he had time to meditate upon the melancholy consequences of rash and foolhardy behavior.
I had my own share in this naval triumph, which gave striking proof of how formidable an opponent Khaireddin had become even for the united navies of the Emperor. Having carefully studied the situation and observed the scornful resentment felt by the sea pashas for this hero, whom they continued to regard as a barbarous and untrustworthy pirate, I sent word to Khaireddin in Algeria advising him to cease his futile raids on the coasts of Italy and Spain and instead attempt a real victory over the Emperor’s fleet. I also suggested that he should cease dyeing his beard. The Sultan’s sea pashas were all aged men, and in the Seraglio a long gray beard was regarded as the most convincing sign of experience and ability. As soon as news of the great victory reached the Seraglio I hired a young poet named Baki and a couple of street singers to compose and perform suitable verses in Khaireddin’s honor until his name was on everyone’s lips. In bazaar and bathhouse he was hailed as a light of Islam. His beard was reputed to reach to his waist, and the Prophet himself, they said, had appeared to him in a dream.
To restore the balance after his naval defeat the Emperor bestowed the island of Malta and the fortress of Tripoli upon the Knights of St. John. This was the severest blow that could have been dealt Khaireddin, and indeed the Sultan’s whole sea power, for having drifted hither and thither without firm foothold since the fall of Rhodes, these ruthless crusaders whom Mussulmans called bloodhounds of the seas became once more a menace to merchantmen and pilgrims. Their war galleys, also, continually patrolling the sea routes and convoying Christian vessels, would soon greatly hinder Khaireddin’s lawful traffic.
One day on returning home I was met at the gate by Alberto who ran up to me in his yellow eunuch’s dress and in a state of great agitation announced that Giulia’s labor pains had begun. These terrible tidings made me cry out in fear, for it was not more than seven months since I had returned from the war and so premature an infant could hardly be expected to survive.
Despite my medical experience I was no midwife, having practiced chiefly as an army surgeon, and reflecting now upon the delicate organism of a woman I felt ill equipped indeed. I was therefore greatly relieved to learn that the skillful Solomon had been sent for and was even now at Giulia’s side. As he had attended Sultana Khurrem at her confinements, I knew I could wish for no more competent man. He came out to the courtyard, his arms bloody to the elbows, and assured me cheerfully that all was going as well as could be expected. At his frightful appearance my knees turned to water; I exhorted him to do his best and promised him lavish presents if only my son might survive. But the honest Jew explained that he had been sent by Sultana Khurrem and that for certain reasons he could accept nothing from me. He wearied of me at last, saying that my woeful presence did more harm than good, and urged me to go for a brisk walk to restore the color to my cheeks.
In vain I told myself that millions and millions of boys had been born into the world before this one, many of them prematurely. I found no comfort. The sun was sinking behind the hills when like a thief I slunk back to Abu el-Kasim’s house, hoping to see some strange woman run joyfully toward me crying, “What will you give me for bringing you glad tidings?”
But I heard no joyous voices and the women squatted like crows in that silent house, avoiding my eyes. I feared the worst when Solomon came to me with a child in his arms and said in a tone of compassion, “It was not Allah’s will, Michael el-Hakim. It’s only a girl. But mother and child are well.”
I bent forward fearfully to look at the infant, and to my unspeakable joy perceived that she was no defective embryo, but fully developed and healthy, with a little dark down on her head. She opened her deep blue eyes and gazed at me from her paradise of innocence with a look that made me clap my hands and praise Allah for this miracle.
When Alberto saw how great was my relief he too smiled happily and wished me joy. Until then, no doubt, he had feared that being a Moslem I should find no delight in a daughter. When I again expressed my wonder at Giulia’s short pregnancy he assured me that he had heard of many similar cases, and cases also where the opposite had occurred. There had been for example a distinguished lady in Verona whose child was born eighteen months after the death of her husband. Therefore, said Alberto, not the most eminent physician could predict these events with certainty; so much depended on the physical structure of the woman and other circumstances, and perhaps even on the husband. Lowering his eyes respectfully he went on, “Voyages, campaigns, and pilgrimages, which impose long abstinence on a man, seem to increase his virility so that children engendered after such journeys come sooner into the world than most. Such at least is the opinion commonly held in Italy.”
In my great happiness I lost all my antipathy for Alberto, and indeed secretly pitied him b
ecause I had forced him to shave and assume the yellow robe of a eunuch. I therefore spoke kindly to him and let him admire the child in my arms. He pointed out how strongly she resembled me, until I soon saw that she had not only my chin but also my ears and nose, though what most delighted me was the perfection of her eyes. Both, like Giulia’s left one, were sapphire blue.
I care to say no more of this little daughter of mine, the touch of whose tiny fingers melted my heart as if it had been wax. For her sake I spoiled and pampered Giulia as she lay scolding me for all the things I forgot or left undone.
Because of some lingering weakness and to preserve the youthfulness of her breasts she insisted on my finding a wet nurse for the child, and from a Tartar in the bazaar I bought a Russian woman who was still suckling her year-old son. My mind misgave me that she would neglect my daughter and save most of her milk for her own boy, but when the Tartar offered to knock the child’s brains out without extra charge I could not agree to so godless an action, and consoled myself with the thought that I could keep the infant and train him up as a houseboy.
The purchase of the nurse was not the only great expense incurred at that time, for when the house that Sinan had designed, with all Giulia’s alterations and additions, began at last to rise on the sloping shore of the Bosphorus, I was appalled at its size. All unknown to me it had grown and grown until now it was almost as large as the palaces of the agas. Giulia’s vanity further demanded that the whole property should be enclosed by a high stone wall-the principal mark of distinction in a house. I went in deadly fear as Sinan presented even longer and longer reckonings, though he employed young azamogh- lans from the janissary school for the work and I was permitted to buy the building materials through the Defterdar’s treasury at the Sultan’s price.
Long before we moved into our mansion I had to buy two Negroes as boatman and gardener’s boy, and of course a Greek head gardener. Giulia dressed the Negroes in red and green with silver belts, and as the gardener swore by all the Greek saints that he had never encountered two such lazy and impudent blacks as these I had also to buy a meek Italian boy to help him. So large a household required a cook, the cook required a slave girl, and the slave girl needed a woodcutter and a water carrier to help her, until at last I felt as if I were being sucked down into a whirlpool.
When after two and a half years’ absence Abu el-Kasim returned from Bagdad his house was so full of yelling, squabbling servants that he did not recognize it, and had to go out into the street again to make sure he had come to the right place. And truth to tell I had long forgotten that I was a mere guest in his house and was making use of what belonged to him. But the deaf-mute, half starved, ragged, verminous, and long since banished to the obscurest corner of the yard where he dragged out a miserable existence beneath a roof of woven withies, at once recognized his lord. He squealed and scampered about and fawned upon him, like a faithful dog welcoming his returning master.
At first I hardly knew Abu. He wore a large turban and a kaftan with jeweled buttons, and on his feet were slippers of red leather. With a gesture of command he bade his three donkey drivers unload the bales of merchandise from the backs of their beasts. The donkeys were gray, sturdy creatures; silver bells jingled on their harnesses and from the great bundles they carried floated a fragrance of musk and spice. Abu el-Kasim himself smelled of musk and rose water and had even pomaded his sparse beard. It was clear that he had prospered on his travels.
Before I hurried out to greet him I glanced about me and to my shame observed the hideous confusion prevailing in his house. His cooking pots were dented, his pitchers chipped, and his costly rugs worn threadbare. Baby clothes hung out to dry in the yard, the two Negroes lay snoring on the porch, and in the midst of all sat the Russian woman with knees apart and eyes half shut, suckling my daughter and her son. The scales fell from my eyes at last and I perceived how neglectful Giulia had been of Abu el-Kasim’s house. She was not even at home now, but had gone to the Seraglio or the bathhouse, “to attend to her work,” as she would say whenever I questioned her.
My fingers were ink stained. I had slept badly and was worn out with trouble and anxiety, but despite my weariness and shame a wave of warmth swept through my heart as I embraced Abu el-Kasim and with tears of joy welcomed him home after the hardships of his perilous journey, from which I had feared he would never return. Abu looked about him with his monkey eyes and was on the point of tearing his beard, but recollected himself in time and said bitterly, “I can see for myself that my return was unexpected. But I’ll endeavor to control my tongue if you will at once fetch me a little water that I may perform the lesser ablution and repeat the prayer of homecom- ing.”
While he was engaged in his devotions I contrived by savage imprecations and blows to restore a measure of order. The slaves cleared part of the house by throwing out our own belongings and helping the donkey drivers to carry in the bales. Having ordered the cook to prepare a meal instantly, I accompanied Abu el-Kasim ceremoniously into the house and led him toward the place of honor. But Abu paused before the Russian woman, who had never learned to veil her face in the presence of men, and gazing enchanted at her and the two children at her breast he said, “I see that you have taken another wife, Michael el-Hakim, and evidently not a moment too soon, since Allah has already blessed your household. Never have I beheld a finer boy. He is fairer than the moon and the image of his father.”
He took the child in his arms and wept with delight when the boy clutched his beard with his little fingers. The Russian was delighted at this condescension; she modestly covered her bosom and even drew a veil over her round face as she gazed moist eyed at Abu el-Kasim. I snapped, “She’s no wife but a bought slave. It is my daughter who is fairer than the moon and out of regard for the Sultan I have whispered the name Mirmah in her ear, after the Moslem manner, since the Sultan’s own daughter has been given that name. But I forgive you, Abu el-Kasim, for no doubt you have not yet rubbed the dust of travel from your eyes.”
He handed the boy back reluctantly to the mother, stroked my daughter’s cheek out of politeness, and seated himself in the place of honor. A scullion, trembling with fear, brought sherbet in a silver goblet and spilled some of the sticky liquid over Abu’s knees. Abu fished a dead fly from the cup, tasted the drink, and said with a grimace, “What delicious sherbet! Its only defect is that it’s too warm-but then it’s so much the sourer. However, for the sake of your child I forgive you everything, Michael el-Hakim, though I confess my first impulse was to send for the cadi and two competent witnesses to assess the damage you have done to my beautiful house. But for thirty years no little hand has tugged at my beard. I will not be petty. I can afford to look the other way, and indeed have always been magnanimous.”
To cheer him I explained that my new house would soon be ready, and even promised to have certain repairs carried out in his own. When we had eaten a good meal together and opened a jar of wine all awkwardness between us melted away; our conversation grew ever more animated and Abu el-Kasim told me of the marvels of Bagdad that not even Genghis or Tamerlane had been able to destroy. He spoke too of the Persian rose gardens, of Tabriz and of Ispahan, and praised in glowing terms that long-hallowed land of poets. As to his own affairs, however, Abu was reticent, and he was unwilling to open his bundles, though it was not long before the whole house was fragrant with them. The smell of musk wafted out into the street, bringing the neighbors to our gate to shower blessings on Abu el-Kasim at his most happy homecoming. Moved to tears he distributed the remainder of our meal among them-more indeed than I had intended to give away-and sobbed with the nostalgia born of wine, “Ah, Michael! My name is Abu el-Kasim, but you have never even asked me why I so call myself and what became of my son Kasim. Today I felt a child’s hand playing with my beard for the first time in many years; time rolled backward, the fount of tears was unsealed, and I looked for a moment into the well of my own life. Woe, woe is me! So dearly did I love my only son that at his bir
th I tempted Allah by changing my name to Kasim’s Father, Abu el-Kasim.”
He plunged again into sorrowful memory. Presently he looked up and said in an altered tone, “That reminds me that on my journey I met our friend Mustafa ben-Nakir. At the moment he is studying poetry under the guidance of the most eminent poets of Persia. He’s also associating with dissatisfied dignitaries who resent the tyranny of young Shah Tahmasp and want to abandon the Shiite heresy while there is yet time, to return to Sunna, the true path.”
Only now did I understand in my innocence that Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben-Nakir had gone to Bagdad and Persia to gain knowledge that would be of use in the event of war in the East. Much disturbed I exclaimed, “Allah! You cannot mean that the Grand Vizier is secretly spreading dissension in the Persian dominions? The Sultan has given firm assurance of his desire for peace, and he needs all his forces to defend Islam against the Emperor’s planned attack.”
Abu el-Kasim replied, “Unfortunately Mustafa ben-Nakir has obtained incontrovertible proof that Shah Tahmasp, to Islam’s shame, has begun negotiations with the Emperor and asked his help in a war against the Sultan. The time is indeed ripe for all Mussulmans to lift up their voices and cry across the world, ‘To our aid, all true believers!’“
At his words I seemed to hear the roar of an avalanche and I choked over my wine. For if the Sultan were forced to wage a double war and defend himself against both Emperor and Shah, then indeed evil days were dawning for us all. Abu el-Kasim blinked at me and went on, “In their blindness these infernal Shiites would rather fight on the side of the unbelievers than submit to Sunna and the rule of uncultured Turks. Much indignation has also been aroused by the rumor that the Grand Mufti has issued a fatwa by which in any future war the Shiites may be deprived of their property and sold into slavery, though they themselves are Moslems.”
