by Mika Waltari
Abu drew me in beside him and under cover of the curtains gave me a little wine. Recovering slightly from my agitation I asked him eagerly whether I was indeed free, what I had been accused of and what had been happening in the world since I had been snatched from it. Abu el-Kasim said, “Ask no foolish questions. The matter is of no importance and will become clear to you in due course. All you need do now is come home, recite the first sura, and give me the Russian woman and her son according to your promise. It was only to fetch them that I returned, and for the rest of my days I shall live peacefully in Tunis. Thanks to Khaireddin that town has been liberated from the Hafsid tyranny and now celebrates its freedom under the vigilant protection of the janissaries.”
Not until he had assured himself that I meant to keep my word and give him the Russian did he heave a sigh of relief and tell me the reason for my imprisonment.
It seemed that when Khaireddin set sail in the spring he made first for Coron and supplied the fortress with new cannon. Then for the first time in history the Mussulman fleet sailed openly through the
Strait of Messina to display its strength, after which it cruised slowly northward and systematically raided the coast of the Kingdom of Naples. Doria dared not come out to meet Khaireddin, since because of seemingly well-founded rumors he believed the fleet to be bound for Genoa. Most unluckily a Christian slave, in return for his freedom, promised to show Khaireddin’s land forces the way to the castle of Fondi, where there was reputed to be immense treasure.
“It appeared, however,” said Abu el-Kasim, “that the slave had greatly exaggerated the value of this, and in their fury the janissaries broke into the chapel, plundered the coffins of the dead lords of the castle, and scattered their bones. The lady of the castle, a widow of ripe years named Giulia Gonzaga, fled in her nightgown. Khaireddin had never heard of her, but after her escape she spread the most colorful stories of her flight. Since her widowhood she had been wont to entertain poets and other riffraff, in the frivolous Italian manner, and in return for her hospitality these poets hailed her in their verses as the most beautiful woman in Italy. You know what poets are-there was no harm in any of it. But in her crazy vanity this woman spread the report that Khaireddin had stormed her castle solely on her account, because he meant to send her to the harem of his lord, Sultan Suleiman. She told the tale so often that she began to believe it herself.”
“Allah be good to us!” I exclaimed, deeply shaken. “Now I understand. Small wonder that Sultana Khurrem was angry when she heard of this, for she must have believed that Khaireddin had betrayed her confidence at my instigation. I can only marvel that my head remains on my shoulders. A woman scorned is more savage in her jealousy than an Indian tiger.”
“The Venetian Signoria took care that this entertaining story should reach the ears of the Sultana, and she was the more eager to believe it for a certain disharmony that had arisen between her and the Sultan over Prince Mustafa, just before Suleiman went to war. The best proof of its falsehood is that the groom who risked his life to save Giulia Gonzaga was slain afterward at her order, because he laughed at her story and said that the Sultan would certainly prefer a sack of flour to the lady’s somewhat flabby charms.”
“Then,” I remarked, “the misunderstanding must now have been cleared up and Sultana Khurrem will know that I am innocent. But if not, I must flee to Persia and seek refuge with the Grand Vizier, loath though I am to encounter Shiite swords.”
Abu el-Kasim said, “She believes in your innocence, and Khaireddin’s princely gifts have entirely dispelled her groundless suspicions. But now Grand Vizier Ibrahim is reported to have marched with great pomp into Tabriz, the Shah’s capital, and so reached the peak of his glory. The Sultan has joined him there and lovely Khurrem can only sit and bite her nails. For many days Istanbul has been rejoicing at the conquest of Persia, and now new fires are being lit to celebrate the capture of Tunis.”
We embarked in my boat, and as the stars came out and sparkled like silver sand against the blue of the night sky I saw far away my beautiful house and garden, and the high walls rising in terraces above the shore. So unreal did all things seem to me that life itself appeared but as a dream, a flower, a song. I drove my nails into the palms of my hands in an effort to control myself, impatient for the moment when I could once more hold my wife Giulia in my arms. The slaves had hardly raised their oars to let the boat glide noiselessly to the marble landing stage before I leaped out, and on winged feet sped up the steps to my house. Seizing the first lamp I saw I hastened to the upper floor, calling out Giulia’s name in the hope that she might yet be awake. Hearing the noise, the faithful Alberto came rushing to meet me with his hair on end, breathless from astonishment. He hastened to fasten his yellow coat and threw himself at my feet weeping for joy at my return, and embracing my legs with his powerful arms. Not until he heard Giulia calling to me in a faint voice did he come to his senses and release me.
Giulia was lying limply on her bed, her hair curling over the pillow.
“Oh, Michael, is that you? I thought by the noise that thieves had broken in. I can’t think how it is you’re here so soon, for Sultana Khurrem and I agreed that it should be tomorrow. Someone has been negligent or taken a bribe, and deserves severe punishment for the fright you’ve given me. My heart is still thumping and I can scarcely draw breath.”
She sounded indeed so breathless and frightened that I raised the lamp to look at her, and although she quickly drew up the coverlet and hid her face in her hands I could not but see that her left eye was bruised and that there were red weals across her shoulders as though from a cane. Aghast, I snatched off the coverlet and beheld her shivering, naked body covered with red blotches.
“What is this?” I cried. “Are you ill, or has someone beaten you?”
Giulia began to sob, and wailed, “I slipped and fell on those treacherous stairs, striking my eye and rolling right to the bottom. By a miracle I broke no bones. Can you wonder that I’m bruised and shivering? Alberto helped me to bed and when he had gone I drew off my shift to look at my bruises and rub them with salves. I hoped to be quite well again to welcome you tomorrow-and then you come storming in like a wild beast with no consideration for me whatever.”
She was talking so excitedly that I could not get a word in, and as I had often slipped on those stairs myself, especially after drinking wine, I had no reason to doubt her word and was aware only of a deep thankfulness that she had suffered no worse injury. Yet somewhere in the depths of my heart that evening-though I would not admit it even to myself-the vile, scorching truth was revealed.
Having humbly begged Giulia’s pardon for my thoughtless behavior, I called Abu el-Kasim to enter, since owing to her injuries Giulia could not leave her bed. But Abu was out of humor because Giulia had allowed the Russian nurse to go out with the other servants to celebrate the Sultan’s victories. He fidgeted about the room for some time, scratching himself, and at length set forth in search of the woman to protect her virtue from the mob.
I was not sorry to see him go, for now at last Giulia and I could be alone. Inflamed by wine and my own suspicions I could not master myself, but embraced her to deaden my thoughts, though she begged me to spare her bruised body. My passion only burned the hotter as the agonizing truth forced its way deeper and deeper into my heart. Giulia submitted ever more willingly and at last began to respond faintly to my caress. Artlessly she asked me whether I still loved her, and I could only grit my teeth and declare that of all women on earth I loved only her-that no other could satisfy my desire. This was the hideous truth and I hated myself for submitting to her spell.
At length I sank to rest beside her, and she began to chide me gently. “What an unnatural father you are, Michael! You’ve not even asked after your daughter. Would you not like to peep at her while she’s asleep? You could never guess how she has grown and what a beautiful girl she promises to be.”
At this I could control my thoughts no longer and said, “No
, no, I won’t see her. I won’t even think about her. She has Alberto. All I ask is to bury my thoughts, my will, my hopes, my future, and my bitter, bitter disillusionment in your arms. I love you only and can do no other.”
At my violent and despairing words she raised herself quickly on her elbow. Her face was strangely flushed and there was a cruel look about her lips as she stared at me in the yellow lamplight. But dissimulation came easily to me now, and presently she shrugged her white shoulders and lay down calmly at my side, saying, “You talk very foolishly, Michael. You should not neglect your own child for my sake. Mirmah has often asked after you, and tomorrow you shall walk with her in the garden, to show both her and me that you’re a tender and thoughtful father, though I know you care little for children. So much at least you can do for me, when I ask you so prettily.”
Next morning she brought Mirmah to me and I took the child into the garden to look at my red and yellow Indian fish. For a while she held my hand obediently, as no doubt Giulia had bidden her, but soon she forgot me and began throwing sand into the water with both hands to scare the fish. I cared little for the fish, but narrowly scrutinized the child that Giulia called mine. She was in her fifth year-a capricious, violent child who went into convulsions if her smallest wish was opposed. She was beautiful; her features were regular and faultless as those of a Greek statue, and her complexion was so smooth and dark as to make her eyes seem strangely pale. While we strolled in the garden Alberto followed us like a shadow, as if fearing that I might throw the little girl into the pool. But how could I have harmed her who had no share in the sin or in the death of my heart? When she had tired of teasing the fish Alberto took her quickly away and I sat down on a stone bench that was warmed by the sun. My head was empty and I did not want to think.
I was not many years over thirty, but the gnawing uncertainty of my’ imprisonment had led me to doubt the purpose of my life, and on my return the corroding truth took up its dwelling in my heart. I was overcome by a desperate longing to flee from the city of the Sultan and find somewhere-as far away as possible-a peaceful corner where I might live out my life like other men and in quietness increase my knowledge.
Yet how could I give up Giulia and my beautiful house, my comfortable bed, the good food served in porcelain and silver, my friends the poets and dervishes and above all the Grand Vizier who trusted and needed me? I could not desert him-least of all now, when despite his brilliant successes the shadows were clustering thick about him. I strove to make a bold decision, but I could not tell what was best for me. Time slipped by like a swift stream, the worm gnawed at my heart, and vainly I sought comfort in my cups and oblivion in cheerful company.
To all appearances, the Ottoman Empire had never known so golden an age. The conquest of Tunis had brought with it control of Africa’s ancient caravan routes over the desert from the Negro lands; along these routes poured gold dust, black slaves, ivory, and ostrich feathers. Tunis was also a base for the conquest of Sicily, and already the Knights of St. John-the greatest menace afloat-were thinking of withdrawing from Malta to the security of the Italian mainland.
From Tabriz the united armies of the Sultan and the Grand Vizier embarked upon an arduous march to Bagdad, and news of the bloodless capture of the holy city of the caliphs came as a climax to many victorious tidings. Yet these successes could not provoke Shah Tahmasp to a decisive encounter, and the march on Bagdad claimed more than its share of victims. I received a letter from the Grand Vizier of which the very handwriting betrayed a disturbed state of mind, commanding me to join him in Bagdad.
The war was by no means ended. The army was to winter in Bagdad and in the spring renew its attack on Persia. But treachery lurked among the troops, he wrote, and did more damage than the weapons of the Persians. Iskender-tseleb the Defterdar was the cause of all the trouble, and since Aleppo he had brought about utter confusion in the finances. He had deliberately sent ten thousand men to certain death in an inaccessible mountain pass, and it was becoming more and more evident that the whole campaign had been planned to discredit Ibrahim as Seraskier. Ibrahim must be constantly on his guard against assassins-who were not sent by Shah Tahmasp. But, he wrote, he would turn the conspiracies of his foes against themselves; he would root out the treachery that had sprung up in the army and show who was Seraskier-sultan of the Ottoman Empire. From me he required a report of all that had happened in the Seraglio during his absence, and meant to entrust to me a further task, which could not be mentioned even in a secret dispatch.
I was filled with forebodings and fears that the noble Seraskier, distracted by the hardships and reverses of the war, had taken to suspecting treachery in the most innocent places. Yet since he commanded me, I must go to him. I will therefore begin my last book and relate how Grand Vizier Ibrahim’s star burned dim just as he attained to the highest position ever held by a slave in the Ottoman Empire.
BOOK 9.
Grand Vizier Ibrahim ’ s Star of Fortune
BY FAIR words Abu el-Kasim persuaded my daughter’s Russian nurse to renounce her Greek religion and embrace Islam, that he might marry her lawfully in the presence of the cadi and two qualified witnesses. The woman so warmly admired Abu’s broad turban, his kaftan with the jeweled buttons, and his glittering monkey’s eyes, that she clapped her hands for joy when she understood his honorable intentions. I knew not whether to laugh or cry when I saw how tender Abu was of his wife’s reputation and how he even overcame his avarice for the time, that the wedding celebrations might be as splendid as possible. All the poor of the quarter were feasted for many days in succession, pipes and drums resounded, and women sang in shrill voices their ancient nuptial hymns.
To my delight Giulia made no opposition, though she failed to understand how I could hand over a woman still in her prime to such a man as Abu, still less incite her to renounce her Christian faith, schismatic though it was. Abu el-Kasim swore that he would make her son his sole heir if he should have no children by her, and at the boy’s circumcision he gave him the name of Kasim, so that in Tunis it might be thought that he was Abu’s son.
By the time I received the Grand Vizier’s anxious letter from Bagdad I had already accompanied Abu el-Kasim and his family to their vessel and seen them off with many blessings. A singular, almost morbid conviction had grown upon me of late that a curse lay over my house, and I rejoiced at the Grand Vizier’s summons, plainly though it showed that the stress of war had deranged his mind. Dread of my own house inclined me to this long journey, and as feverishly as during my imprisonment I had longed for Giulia, I now yearned to be parted from her for a time, that I might meditate in peace and quiet upon her and upon our relationship.
Giulia made no objection to my journey, envied me my sight of Bagdad, and gave me a long list of things to buy for her in the bazaars. As the day of departure drew near she displayed increasing affection, but shortly before I left she spoke a few grave words. “According to news received by a certain distinguished lady, Grand Vizier Ibrahim has secretly summoned to Bagdad a number of eminent statesmen, and it’s certain that he is up to no good. But the Sultan, blinded and bewitched by his friendship, cannot see the danger, though the ambitious Ibrahim has assumed a new title and in the Persian manner signs himself Seraskier-sultan. Fortunately Khurrem was able to persuade the Sultan to send thither the loyal Defterdar, Iskender-^/‹?£, to advise the Seraskier and at the same time to hold him in check. Yet Ibrahim has tried in every way to hinder Iskender-Arc-/e£ in his work and to undermine his authority.”
“I know all this,” I replied curtly. Her words distressed me, for the attempt, foiled by the vigilance of the Grand Vizier, to steal part of the Sultan’s war funds had aroused much excitement throughout Istanbul and fantastic rumors were current in the Seraglio. But nothing would deter Giulia from pouring poison into my ear.
“Believe me, Michael-be wise and don’t walk blindfold into disaster. Take careful note of all the Grand Vizier says. Calm him; prevent any hasty or ill-
considered action. For although Sultana Khurrem wishes him no ill, he will be setting the noose about his own neck if he continues to persecute her friends and faithful servants. Iskender-£r ‹?/‹?£ in particular enjoys the Sultana’s favor, and it was only to cast suspicion upon him that Ibrahim bribed men to steal the camels laden with part of the war funds.”
“I take a very different view of that incident,” said I. “Why should the Seraskier steal his own money? And besides, he has the written confession of the accused-a confession which throws a strange light upon the Defterdar, as should be evident to all right-thinking persons.”
Giulia’s face darkened.
“And it was extorted under merciless torture! Perhaps you can explain why the Grand Vizier was in so great a hurry to take the lives of those unhappy men as soon as they had confessed, if not to silence inconvenient witnesses.”
“Allah be gracious to me!” I cried in exasperation. “Only a woman could reason thus. How in wartime could he have pardoned the men so dangerous an offense? As Seraskier, he was compelled to make an example of them, to prevent the spread of sedition.”
A queer gleam came into Giulia’s eyes, but with a great effort she controlled herself and answered, “You refuse to see the truth, Michael, and you will have a terrible awakening. Don’t blame me if when the time comes I can do nothing to save you. I wish you a good journey to your dear Grand Vizier, and hope that on the way you will find time to think the matter over. Be sure that rich rewards await you if you come to your senses in time.”
According to Ibrahim’s commands, I traveled the long road to Bagdad with the greatest possible speed. I was blind and deaf with exhaustion, my cramped limbs ached, and I was in agony from saddle sores when at length I slipped from my mount with my companions to press an aching brow to the ground and stammer prayers of thanksgiving. The countless mosques, minarets, and towers of this fabled city were like a mirage amid the flowering gardens crisscrossed with irrigation canals, and the holy tombs of Islam lay more thickly here than anywhere else in the world. Bagdad was no longer the city of the caliphs, for after the days of the great Imam the Mongols had looted and burned it more than once. Yet in my eyes it seemed rich and splendid, and with all the tales of Arabia in my thoughts I rode in through the city gates preceded by runners who hastened to inform the Grand Vizier of our coming.
