Evil in a Mask rb-9

by Dennis Wheatley

  Going to his room he slowly undressed, closed the shutters, drew the curtains, then got into bed. For a while he laboured a little to read two of the stories in a Turkish edition of the Thousand and One Nights. Rolling up the scroll, he blew out the bedside lamp.

  The room was now in Stygian blackness. He could not see his hand before his face. Patiently he lay there for what seemed a very long time. At last he heard the door open, but not even a ray of light came in, as the lamps in the corridor had been put out.

  The door closed. His heart began to hammer with anticipa­tion. He caught the swish of a silk garment as it slid from his visitor's shoulders to the floor. Next moment she had pulled back the bed-clothes, and wriggled in beside him.

  He drew her to him, and ran his hand lightly over her hair. It was not crinkly as he "remembered, but very fine and silky. Leaning over, he kissed her on the mouth. It was not full-lipped, but very soft, and she moved it gently, touching his tongue with hers. As their kiss ended, she gave a low laugh and said:

  'I've cheated you, haven't I? You've got an old woman who has fallen in love with a wonderful man.'

  He had known it a moment before. It was not Fatima that he held naked in his arms, but the Veiled Crown of Turkey, who was yet to change the destiny of a great nation: the re­markable woman whom the Grand Turk had chosen to hon­our above all others in his vast Empire—Naksh the Beautiful.

  The Road to Isfahan

  On June 7th General Gardane's mission, and Roger with it, left Constantinople. The intelligence sources serving the French Embassy were good. Within a few days of the coup d'etat, the General had learned that the new Sultan, Mustapha IV, and his mother, as a natural corollary of their opposition to Aimee who led the pro-French party, had long been in secret communication with the British and the Russians. Therefore, there was now not the least chance of Gardane's mission suc­ceeding in Turkey.

  He had, therefore, decided to take his whole party on as soon as possible to Persia. By the land route, its capital, Isfa­han, was some fifteen hundred miles from Constantinople; but a good part of the journey could be done by sea, and in a vessel there was no necessity for horses to be rested while their tired riders slept in a camp or inn. Ships proceeded on their way day and night So, although the distance to Antioch by sea was a thousand miles, and they would then still have to travel another thousand miles overland, Gardane felt that, during the summer weather, unless the winds proved unusually contrary for that season, they would save several days and themselves much exertion if they went as far as they could by ship.

  For the purpose he chartered a brigantine with a hold large enough to stable their horses, and confined—but by the stan­dard of the times, adequate—quarters for the personnel.

  When in mid-morning, with the sun blazing down out of a brassy blue sky, they set sail and rounded Seraglio Point into the Sea of Marmora, Roger, leaning over the stern rail, looked back at the terraced gardens and innumerable kiosks that made up the Topkapi Palace.

  For the past week he had thought of little else than Aimee. He was reassured that, apart from some quite unforeseeable happening, no harm would befall her. She had been relieved of her many duties and responsibilities, her beloved son and her dear friend, the deposed Sultan Selim, were with her and as safe from danger as she was. She would have their com­pany, her books, embroidery and garden; but it seemed tragic that such a woman should be condemned to live the life of a nun.

  Among the first words she had said to him on that night they had slept together were, 'I'm an old woman.' By Eastern standards, at forty-three, she was; but in fact she was old neither in spirit nor body. She was that rarest of beings, a beautiful European who had been taught by Oriental experts the ways in which to arouse a man's virility again and again, and to give herself each time with delirious enjoyment. Since her husband's death, conditions in the harem had made it impossible for her to take a lover, even if she had desired one of the few men who were occasionally permitted to visit her in her apartments. Now, she was fated to resume that life of chastity for good, and to remain a prisoner until she died.

  That, at least, was what Roger feared would be her fate, although her unshakeable belief that her son, Prince Mahmoud, would one day rule gloriously did give a ray of hope that unforeseeable circumstances might yet restore her to the posi­tion of Sultan Valide.

  Before leaving Constantinople, Roger had carried out his orders by writing a long despatch for Napoleon's private eye. In it he praised Gardane for having done everything possible to carry out the Emperor's wishes. Then he gave an account of how he, personally, had penetrated the Seraglio and gained the friendship of the Sultan Valide by representing himself to be an envoy sent by the Empress Josephine. He implied that the mission would have succeeded in its object had Aimee had her way; but the revolt of the Janissaries had brought to naught all hope of Turkey's sending additional forces against the Russians.

  Having completed his report he sent Achmet out to find a sea-captain or merchant of good standing, who would shortly be sailing to Italy. After Achmet had produced three men who would be setting out from Constantinople within the next ten days, Roger settled on the third—a Venetian who was taking a cargo of coffee to Venice. To him he gave fifty gold pieces and the despatch, with the assurance that he would be well rewarded on delivering it safely. His missive was addressed to His Imperial Highness, Prince Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, the Royal Palace, Milan. Inside the cover he put a note that read:

  From Your Highness" old friend who had the pleasure of presenting you with your first pair of pistols.

  That, he knew, would identify the sender to Eugene, whom he had first met as a boy of fifteen.

  In the outer cover was an inner one, enclosing the despatch, inscribed,

  Urgent! To be forwarded by fast courier to Mar­shal Berthier, Prince de Neufchatel.

  And he had little doubt that, provided the Venetian merchant was not shipwrecked, or Beauharnais' courier came to grief, his report would reach Napoleon with the minimum of delay.

  The Emperor was not going to be pleased with the informa­tion it conveyed, but at least Gardane would be excused his failure and Roger maintain his reputation as active and re­sourceful in the Emperor's interests.

  Sailing on, the brigantine passed through the Dardanelles, then clove Homer's 'wine-dark seas' that creamed on the shores of the Aegean islands. They called at Rhodes to take on fresh provisions and, while they were being loaded, visited and marvelled at the Crusaders' vast castle. It was a city in itself, enclosed in three miles of wall, which were in some places a hundred feet in height, and so broad that three coaches abreast could have been driven along its top.

  The wind held fair and on June 21st they landed at Selucca Peria, the port of Antioch. In the ancient Syrian city— the first Bishopric of the Christian world, but for many cen­turies past under either Arab or Turkish rule—they spent two nights, while Gardane's Quartermaster made preparations for their onward journey.

  They were to take the famous Silk Road, which began there and ended four thousand miles away at the city of Chang-an in China. From time immemorial it had been the tenuous link between East and West. Merchandise had cer­tainly passed along it for over two thousand years. Cleopatra had worn silk, and for several centuries, from her day on­ward, the traffic had been considerable. This was due to the whole of central Asia being under the domination of four mighty, stable Empires: that of Rome in the West; adjoining it Parthia—of which Persia then formed only a small part; beyond Parthia another vast territory ruled by die Great Kushan; and finally China, under the Han dynasty.

  Silk was then China's wealth. The Emperors paid for their requirements with it and rich Mandarins stored rolls of it away, just as nobles and bankers in the Roman world kept their capital in bars of gold. It was also her monopoly. Its manufacture was the most jealously-guarded of all secrets, and the Chinese succeeded in keeping it for over a thousand years. Even when it did leak out, no other peopl
e succeeded in making silk of comparable quality. In Europe it was greatly prized, and Aurelian, writing in the third century a.d., tells us that in Rome the price of one pound of silk was twelve ounces of gold.

  Even so, by then there had developed a considerable com­merce between East and West. China continued to send only silk, but in exchange for it received wool, myrrh, horses and Roman glass. China, too, made no attempt to enlighten the outer world with regard to the wonderful civilisation she had developed. She remained a mysterious legend, her territories only vaguely indicated on the maps. On the other hand, to her there came considerable knowledge of the peoples beyond her frontiers. Manichean, Zoroastrian and, later, Christian missionaries made their way there, and were listened to with respect. Above all, the yellow-robed priests from India and

  Ceylon spread their faith so successfully that Buddhism be­came the religion of the greater part of the Chinese people.

  With the decline and break-up of the mighty Empires, the traffic all but ceased; as the caravans had not only to face the difficulties and hardships of crossing vast deserts and ranges of great mountains, suffer gruelling heat and bitter cold, but they became a prey to bands of fierce Huns, Tartars and Tibetans. Yet great profits were the spur that continued to induce men to risk their lives and, even allowing for the heavy tolls exerted by each city through which they passed, every caravan that reached the Mediterranean made a fortune for its master.

  It was estimated that goods took some two hundred and forty days to travel the four thousand miles between the Jade Gate of Changan and Antioch; but no caravan made the whole journey. At points along the route, merchants met others, bar­gained and sold their cargoes, to be sent on by other caravans. It was for this reason that very few Western traders had ever entered China, and that, even in the thirteenth century, when Marco Polo returned from his amazing journey, few people would believe him when he told them of the marvels of the East.

  Conscious of the urgency of his mission, Gardane decided not to wait and accompany the next caravan, which would not be leaving Antioch for a week or more, but to set out at once with only his A.D.C., Roger and the few senior officers who had stayed at the Embassy in Constantinople. Of these, only the Colonel of Engineers, Couthon, was to be left behind in command of the junior officers and orderlies who would form part of the caravan and escort the several score of camels needed to transport the heavier baggage of the mission, the presents for the Shah and the considerable consignment of arms destined for Persia.

  By far the worst part of the journey from Antioch was the last two-thirds; for, after leaving Samarkand, caravans had to cross the Pamir Mountains, then the terrible deserts of Takla and Sinkiang. So, although to reach Isfahan was one-fourth of it, Gardane reckoned that instead of sixty days his party should arrive in the Persian capital in under forty. Moreover, they would be travelling light, with only lead horses to carry their necessities and a supply of provisions against emergencies.

  On June 23rd they set out. The first stage was across the Syrian desert. The midday heat was unbearable, so they tra­velled only from early morning until about eleven o'clock, and from the late afternoon until nightfall, between times pitching camp. Their Arab guides knew the route well, so arranged their stages in a way which enabled them to make their halts in a series of oases, where there was water and fruit to be had and shade under palm trees.

  Late on the third night, they entered Palmyra. The moon being up, they were able to see the splendid Greco-Roman ruins which were all that remained of Queen Zenobia's once-splendid capital.

  As ruler of the last city on the Silk Road before the cara­vans arrived at Antioch and the first before they moved on eastward, she had become fabulously wealthy from the tolls she imposed on the merchants trading between the Mediter­ranean and Parthia. Being an ambitious woman, she had used much of the money to create a quite formidable army, with the object of making her large oasis the capital of a powerful nation. Resenting this, in a.d. 273 the Romans had sent their legions against her, destroyed her city and taken her to Rome where, walking in golden chains, she had provided the prin­cipal spectacle in a Roman triumph.

  Palmyra now consisted only of a few hundred mud huts and a caravanserai. Having paid a quick visit to this flea-ridden hostelry, Gardane decided that they would fare better if they stayed out of it. So they pitched their tents among the ruins of the great Temple of Baal then, early next morning, started on the considerably longer trek across Mesopotamia to the Euphrates.

  It took them eight days to reach the great river at Al-Hadithah: a large town, again consisting of mud huts. Re­maining there only for the night, they pushed on along a road of sorts that ran south-east. At times it followed the course of the river for some miles; then, making a great bend, the river would pass out of sight for an hour or two, later to reappear and for a stretch again run parallel with the road. On their second night out from Al-Hadithah they encamped in an oasis on the north shore of Lake Habbanizah and in the morn­ing saw it to be such a large sheet of water that its further shore was out of sight. Early the following evening, July 7th, they entered Babylon, having accomplished over half their journey.

  Well pleased with their progress so far, Gardane agreed that they should remain there for two days' rest, and to see something of the fabled city. The caravanserai to which their chief guide took them was patronised by wealthy merchants, so it was reasonably clean and comfortable. The building was oval in shape, enclosing a great central courtyard open to the sky, that had the appearance of both a warehouse and a stable. Innumerable bales, sacks and boxes were piled in the middle, for it was in such places that the merchants bar­tered the wares they had brought for others to take back to their own cities; and the camels of their caravans were teth­ered round the sites. The camel men dossed down there to protect their masters' goods from pilferage. Above, there were two tiers of rooms, all with big, arched doorways facing in­ward. It was in these that the richer patrons of the place both ate and slept, their own servants cooking their meals.

  The worst feature of such establishments was the fleas with which they were infested and the stench of the camels. The members of the mission had found the myriads of flies, which in the desert seemed to appear from nowhere, trying enough; but the fleas were a positive pest.

  The merchants regarded the strangers with friendly interest and several of them spoke Turkish. Roger learned from one of them that he had just taken over a valuable cargo of china that was consigned to the Sultan, and he undid a sacking wrapping to show Roger a plate. It was Chinese celadon, with a raised design and in a beautiful shade of green.

  Another man had just acquired several chests of tea, and Roger, not having enjoyed a cup of tea for many weeks, asked if he might buy some from him. He opened a chest and, to Roger's surprise, its contents did not look at all like tea leaves; they were longer, pale and fluffy. The man explained to him that they were not the leaves, but the flowers of the tea plant, and that even in China only the very rich could afford to buy them. He added that their flavour was so delicate that to have sent them via India by sea would have spoiled it; so the com­paratively rare parcels despatched to the West were always sent overland by caravan. Eager to taste such an exotic brew, Roger produced a gold coin, but the merchant refused to take it and insisted on giving him a small, muslin bag full of the precious flowers. When, later, Roger had some water boiled and made the infusion, he found its perfume marvellous and not unlike that of very fine old brandy.

  Gardane hired a local guide and, mounted on asses, they went to see the remains left by half a dozen great civilisations; but found them disappointing. There were many groups of broken pillars and arches of sandstone eroded by time. Most of them were half buried, and Roger recalled how, when in Egypt, only the head of the Sphinx had been showing above the desert until Napoleon had had the sand that hid its body cleared away. Such temples as remained were hardly recog­nisable as such, for their once-splendid courts had become squalid slums, filled w
ith shacks and lean-tos, between which starved-looking chickens were scratching in the dirt. The only impressive sight that remained was the great, pyramid-like Ziggurats, from the tops of which long-dead astrologers had once charted the heavens.

  Early on July 10th they proceeded on their way across the fifty miles of desert that separates the Euphrates from the Tigris, where the two great rivers come closest to each other before they join and flow on into the Persian Gulf. Having been ferried over the Tigris, they took another road of sorts that ran in the same direction as the river—south-east—for a hundred and fifty miles. They then left it, but continued on for another fifty along the route of the Silk Road, which, except for a few stretches, was not actually a road at all but a half-mile-wide track of broken surface, where the sand had been churned up by the passage of countless camels, asses and horses that made up the caravans.

  Still heading nearly south-east, they entered Persia, skirt­ing the foothills of the northern half of the great Zagros moun­tain barrier that defends Persia's western frontier until, still in the plain, they came to the considerable city of Dezful. There they were met by officials who had been warned in advance of their approach, and taken to the Governor of the city. Through interpreters he enquired their business and, Gardane having produced papers to show that he was the head of a mission from the Emperor of the French to His Imperial Majesty the Shah, the Governor could not have been more courteous. Nevertheless, he insisted that their bag­gage must be examined by the Customs and that duty must be paid on all articles subject to tax when imported into Persia. Gardane protested in vain that all Ambassadorial mis­sions were, by custom, exempt from such imposts. The fol­lowing day he had to pay out a considerable sum before being allowed to proceed—a high percentage of which doubtless went to the Governor. They were soon to learn that in Persia nothing could be done without, in some way or other, greasing somebody's palm.