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 because 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 birth 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.”
“That’s no rumor,” I said innocently. “It’s true, for what arrfiy would make the arduous march to Persia merely to protect the life and property of the inhabitants? But such talk is absurd. The Sultan has no intention of attacking Persia. He is secretly equipping a new army to march again on Vienna and the German states.”

But the wine had gone to Abu el-Kasim’s head and made him quarrelsome. “You’re a renegade and grew up in the West, Michael. You’re Europe-mad. But what good would those impoverished and divided countries be to us? They have not even the same religion. No, the Eastern lands are the lands for the Sultan. Islam has grown from a tiny seed into a tree, under whose shade the whole world may rest. First Suleiman must unite Islam and extend his domains to wealthy India; then if he chooses he can turn his eyes to cold, barren Europe. You should have seen Bagdad with its thousand minarets, the countless ships in Basrah harbor, the mosques of Tabriz, and the treasures in the bazaars of Ispahan! Then you would turn your back on the penniless Emperor of the unbelievers and set your face toward the East.”

Clearly he on his part was Orient-mad, and I did not care to bandy words with him in matters that I understood better than he did, honored as I was by the Grand Vizier’s confidence. I called the nurse and laid her son in Abu’s arms, then picked up my daughter Mirmah and touched her hair with my lips, marveling again at the freak of nature that had given her black hair, when Giulia’s was golden yellow and my own fair rather than dark.

Either the wine or Abu el-Kasim’s talk sharpened my wits, and I perceived that my position as Ibrahim’s confidant was less simple than I had supposed. I was paid a good salary as an adviser on German affairs, but if such fanatics as Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben- Nakir were to induce the Sultan to maintain peace in the West, then the Grand Vizier’s interest in Germany would diminish and I should lose my pay. In my own interest therefore I must firmly oppose Abu’s and Mustafa’s plans. But, I reasoned, should we meet with such another reverse as that of Vienna, all supporters of attack in the West would fall into disfavor and must give place to those who advocated war on Persia.

At this point in my reflections it occurred to me that all the Sultan’s advisers—including perhaps the Grand Vizier—were in the same position as myself. Their political attitude must be governed by private interest, irrespective of what was best for the state. These thoughts so bewildered me that I could no longer tell right from wrong.

At dusk Giulia returned, attended by Alberto. She was infuriated by the disorder in the house, swore at Abu for returning unannounced like a thief in the night, and snatched my daughter from my arms lest in my drunkenness I should let her fall. I blushed for her uncontrolled behavior, but Abu el-Kasim unpacked a flask of genuine Persian rose water for her, and begged her to commend him to the ladies of the harem, that they might receive him from behind a concealing curtain and inspect his marvelous wares. Giulia was pleased by the gift and flattered that he should have appealed to her for help, and very soon they were conferring together in perfect harmony as to how much must be given to the Kislar-Aga, how much to the doorkeepers, and how much she was to have for herself.

I did not interfere in Giulia’s affairs, having troubles enough of my own. I was now forced to acknowledge Alberto’s merits, for during the difficult days of moving he kept the good of the household continually before his eyes. He accompanied Giulia everywhere and so spared me all uneasiness on her account. But what most moved me was his affection for my daughter Mirmah. At every opportunity he took her in his arms and could silence her weeping far more quickly than I could. His whole behavior showed how well he had adapted himself to his role of major-domo, and more than once I was ashamed of my groundless dislike of this most willing man.

Once we were settled in our new house on the Bosphorus his value became even more apparent, for the slaves obeyed him, and soon he achieved so perfect an order in the household that I had nothing to think of but how to earn enough to meet our ever increasing expenses. The number of these was incredible; sometimes I was left too poor to buy paper and ink for the translation of the Koran that I had secretly begun. I had more than ten people to feed and clothe and an expensive carrying chair to buy as well as harness and saddlery; I must be lavish in almsgiving, and whereas I had fondly believed that our garden at least would be productive, the reverse proved to be the case. Indeed it swallowed more than all the other expenses put together, for I was compelled to grow the same sorts of flowers as were to be seen in the gardens of the Seraglio. I soon ceased to wonder that so apparently humble a post as that of Seraglio gardener was regarded as one of the most desirable and lucrative of any in the realm. The Indian and Chinese ornamental fish alone cost a small fortune, and as many of these died for lack of care Giulia was able to persuade me that in the end it would be cheaper to buy a skilled man to tend them. I prefer not to recall the price of this dried-up, shivering Indian.

There were thus limits to my happiness, as I sat on my billowing down cushions, wandered among the brilliant flowers in my garden, or lingered by the pool to feed the colored fish. Constant money worries chafed me like an ill-fitting shoe. I had hoped that Giulia and I might enjoy our new-found abundance in peaceful seclusion, but she soon made it clear that we could derive neither profit nor enjoyment from our house unless we invited important guests to view it for themselves.

Though it entailed a day’s exile from my domain I was undeniably flattered when Sultana Khurrem herself, accompanied by some of her ladies, arrived in her lord’s pleasure barge to admire our house and wander through the gardens. The honor this visit conferred upon us far outweighed the expense of a new marble landing stage, thought Giulia. Armed eunuchs stood guard about our house all day, so that even the dullest must observe in what high regard my wife and I were held. Soon the Grand Vizier with his suite came to visit us and see what had become of all his money; Sinan the Builder and I had to undergo a thorough cross-examination before he was smilingly pleased to understand that it was solely out of regard for his own dignity that we had been compelled to build so fine and handsomely appointed a house.

Proud of his work, Sinan the Builder often brought distinguished pashas and sandshaks to inspect it, in the hope of further commissions. I had thus the opportunity of making useful acquaintances, though some of the more eminent among them treated me haughtily because I was a renegade. These guests put me to great expense, as each of them had to be entertained in a manner befitting our respective dignities.

I grew thin and pale from this life of luxury, and pangs would shoot through the pit of my stomach at the thought of the future. But one day Giulia came to me and putting her arms about my neck for once she said tenderly, “Dearest Michael, we can go on like this no longer. You must see that for yourself.”

Much moved I replied, “Ah, dear Giulia, you’re quite right. A roof and a dry crust are enough for me so long as I have you beside me. We have forged golden fetters for ourselves, and already I feel a silken noose about my neck. Let us humbly confess our error, sell this place, and return to that simple life which is surely better suited to us both.”

But her face darkened and she said, “You misunderstand me. A crust of bread and a cup of water in your company would of course satisfy me, but we have our daughter Mirmah’s future to think of. I’ve put up with your lack of ambition too long. I must take the reins into my own hands, since you seem unable to handle them.”

She paused to choose her words before continuing, “It’s not for a simple woman to meddle with statecraft, but a certain exalted lady feels alarm at the perils threatening the Ottoman Empire and is not convinced that the Grand Vizier’s precautions are the best. His overweening pride and conceit are no secret from her.” Noting the expression on my face she went on hurriedly, “But why enlarge on that? All I meant to say was that many of the most influential men in the realm are dubious of those dangerous schemes of conquest in the West. If the janissaries must be sent into battle they would do better in Persia, which is a weak, divided country.”

To this I replied, “All in good time. The great menace of the Emperor must first be removed. That is the sum of the Grand Vizier’s policy.”

“You speak like a fool, Michael,” said Giulia impatiently. “How can the Sultan defeat the Emperor, who has himself conquered and imprisoned the King of France and the Pope? It may be that Charles bears no ill will to the Sultan and would have nothing against his expansion in the East, so long as he maintained peace with him and his brother. Let the Emperor rule the West and the Sultan the East; there’s room in the world for them both.”

She spoke with such assurance that I began to feel misgivings, for she could never have worked these things out for herself. She gripped me with both hands and shook me, whispering, “Great sums are at stake, Michael! Though the Grand Vizier may boast of his incorruptibility there are other more receptive purses. I’ve good reason to think that the Sultan is secretly inclined to a lasting peace with the Emperor, for he realizes the terrible consequences of defeat. And I know from reliable sources that the Emperor desires nothing better than a secret treaty with the Sultan for the partition of the world. But these of course are very secret matters and for appearances’ sake the Sultan must feign hostility to any such plans.”

“But,” I objected, “how can the Sultan trust the Emperor? Even now the Persian envoy is at Charles’s Court. How can we be sure that Charles will not attack these dominions as soon as the Sultan’s back is turned?”

“Whether he likes it or not, the Sultan is forced to wage war on Persia to crush Shah Tahmasp, who otherwise with the Emperor’s support will attack him. But this would prove costly for Charles, who is disinclined to meddle with Oriental affairs in which he is not directly concerned. Look at it how you will, Michael, you must see that peace with the Emperor can only be to the Sultan’s advantage. You can lose nothing by working for so good a cause.”

This conspiratorial talk did not appeal to me at all, for to my mind reason and not secret gifts of money determined the rights and wrongs of a case. But when I hinted as much to Giulia she shook her head at my simplicity and said, “God pity you, Michael! Nothing you can say will tip the scale either for or against peace, but our style of living has persuaded certain credulous persons that you enjoy the Grand Vizier’s confidence. By this you see the importance of outward show. A hundred thousand ducats have been staked on peace, though I dare not hint even to you whence this money comes. But gold speaks for itself, and here are a thousand ducats to prove that those of whom I speak are in earnest. When the Sultan has made peace with Ferdinand there’ll be another five thousand for you.”

Taking out a little leather bag Giulia broke the seal and let the coins roll jingling across the floor. I freely admit that the ring of money spoke more eloquently in the cause of peace than ever Giulia could. Yet she went on persuasively, “Blessed are the peacemakers. The distinguished lady I spoke of wishes to save the Sultan all unnecessary opposition, and Grand Vizier Ibrahim can easily be sent to Persia as seraskier. The lady sincerely hopes to gain the Grand Vizier’s trust and friendship, for she believes that they both have the Sultan’s interests at heart. For this reason she is deeply hurt at the malicious rumors put about by him concerning Sultana Khurrem and her sons. It is slander to say that Prince Selim is epileptic. Prince Jehangir’s deformity is no more than a trial sent by Allah, such as any woman might have to bear, and the other two Princes are certainly more gifted than the haughty Mustafa, who in no circumstances should be favored at his half-brothers’ expense.”

I fancy Giulia was somewhat carried away by her enthusiasm and said more than she intended. I was so greatly agitated by her proposal that I lay awake until nearly morning. Conflicting ideas whirled round in my head and when at last I fell asleep I was tormented by nightmares in which I seemed to be wandering over a quagmire and vainly seeking firm foothold. I stumbled and fell; the purse dragged me down and down until my mouth was filled with marsh water and I was all but suffocated. I awoke with a shriek, bathed in cold sweat.

It seemed to me that this dream was an omen, and early in the morning I ordered the boatman to row me to the city. Having performed my devotions in the great mosque I turned my steps to Ibrahim’s palace, where I sought out a clerk of the secret intelligence and told him I had a matter of the greatest importance to communicate to the Grand Vizier in person.

I had to wait all day and far into the night until Ibrahim returned from the Seraglio, and when at last he received me it was with coolness and the request that I would not add to the great burden of his cares.

I told him all that Giulia had said and in confirmation would gladly have handed him the thousand ducats, had not Giulia already taken charge of it and dropped it into Alberto’s bottomless purse. The Grand Vizier flushed with anger and ground his teeth as he said, “Enough is enough! If that false, fanatical, scheming woman dares to meddle in statecraft I shall give her something to remember it by. God knows what devil beguiled the Sultan into laying his cloth upon that feline shoulder. She has brought him nothing but her sickly, epileptic blood. Better had her puny brats been strangled in the cradle—though not the Sultan’s best friend could have suggested such a measure.”

When he had stormed for some time I ventured to ask what I should do with the money.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s of no significance. I am the one who decides questions of peace and war, for no one is powerful enough to oppose me. The Sultan follows my advice for he knows I’m the only one who cannot be bought—the only one with whom his interests come first. By the most sacred oaths of Islam he has sworn never to remove me from my appointment as Grand Vizier or do anything to harm me, for in all the world I am his only true friend. This was the condition upon which I took my place at his right hand.”

Resting his great brilliant eyes upon me he smiled and continued, “Perhaps I have neglected my friend the Sultan of late. I must procure him some fresh diversion and prevent that witch from vexing him every night with her mischievous whisperings. Master Gritti is in Buda, as you know, but you have a beautiful house, Michael el-Hakim, at a suitable distance and surrounded by a wall, so don’t be surprised if you should be visited one evening by a pair of wandering brothers. You’d do well to take a few poor poets under your patronage and treat them to a cup of wine and a kaftan. Beautiful poems, good wine, and ravishing stringed instruments can count for much in the destiny of nations. Your position will be much strengthened if you’re known to entertain eminent guests in secret. But for safety’s sake send away your wife and let her spend the night soothsaying in the harem.”

He broke off.and smiled, and for the first time I saw a cruel line about his mouth as he added, “Suppose I were to make Sultana Khurrem the present of a prediction! Your wife sees in the sand what best suits her. Persuade her if you can to foretell the succession of one of Sultana Khurrem’s sons to the throne. Every prophecy if it is to carry conviction must contain something of the quaint and unexpected. Let her say that Selim the epileptic will succeed, and we shall see what follows!”

He smiled broadly, but I could not share his amusement.

“Why the sickly Selim?” I asked. “My wife’s predictions have a disconcerting way of coming true, and I dislike trifling with these matters.”

Ibrahim bent forward and his eyes burned with anger as he said, “The Sultana is as blind as any other mother. She would see nothing strange in such a prophecy. But let her once hint a word of it to the Sultan and the scales would fall from his eyes. He has that fine boy Mustafa. How could he contemplate for a moment the accession of a feeble-minded epileptic to the throne of the Osmanlis?”

He added after a pause, “I can no longer rely on Master Gritti, who thinks only of his own advantage. I need a new meeting place where I can converse privately with foreign agents. Why shouldn’t you profit by this as Master Gritti did, since I have invested such vast sums in your house? Spread the rumor that in return for substantial gifts you can arrange secret interviews with me, and I will undertake to prove the rumor well founded, provided you don’t call upon me needlessly or for trifling matters. But that I may trust you absolutely you must keep careful account of all the presents you receive, and draw equivalent sums from my treasury. Only thus can I be sure that you won’t betray me out of sheer avarice.”

Thunderstruck at his munificence I stammered blessings, but with a laugh he bade me be silent, picked up his violin, and began to play a merry air that Venetian vessels had brought to Istanbul. Now it was that I glimpsed the full import of his proposal, for if the mightiest man in the Ottoman Empire made me his confidant I need set no bounds to my ambitious dreams. Bowing to kiss the ground before him I murmured, “Why, my lord Ibrahim? Why choose me?”

He touched my head carelessly with his henna-dyed fingers.

“Perhaps life is no more than a feverish dream. Then why not take a sleepwalker for guide? I may be fond of you, Michael el-Hakim, weak and pliable though you are. If I were a little fonder of you than I am I would strip you of wealth and send you out as a mendicant brother to seek Allah in the desert and among the mountaintops. Don’t expect too much of my confidence, for even if you knew my deepest secrets, me you would never know. But you once said something that went straight to my heart—that a man must be true to at least one human being.- Perhaps that is the task confronting me, for in fact a man can never be true to anyone but himself. My star, my destiny, a curse, or perhaps some inner power has raised me up above all other men. The essential condition for my existence is therefore unflinching loyalty to my lord the Sultan. His welfare is my welfare, his defeat my defeat, and his victory is for me too a victory.”

I returned through the darkness to my lamplit house whose every stair was fragrant with rose water. Giulia was still awake and came to meet me with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. But a strange sense of unreality held me in its grip and I stared at Giulia as at a wraith—a wraith I did not know.

“Who are you, Giulia, and what do you want of me?”

Startled she drew back, saying, “What ails you, Michael? You’re quite pale. Your turban’s on one side and you’re staring like a madman. If you’ve heard some foolish tale about me, don’t believe it. I would rather you came straight to me than lent your ear to unfounded slander.”

“No, no, Giulia. What could anyone say against you? It’s just that I cannot understand myself or discover what it is I want. Who am I, Giulia, and who are you?”

She wrung her hands and burst into tears.

“Ah, Michael! Have I not warned you a thousand times not to drink so much? Your head won’t stand it. How can you have the heart to frighten me so! Tell me at once what has happened and what the Grand Vizier had to say.”

At her urgent whisper I awoke from the strange trance. The walls of the room returned, the table was solid beneath my hand; Giulia too was a creature of flesh and blood and I could see that she was very angry. But I looked upon her as upon a stranger and in a clearer light than formerly. I saw deep lines about her eyes and a look of malign cunning hardening at her mouth. Heavy ornaments clinked at her wrist and throat and the necklaces had made red marks on the lifeless white of her bosom. I felt no longing to gaze into her eyes and there seek peace and oblivion, as I had been wont to do.

With a sensation of pain I looked away and said, “Nothing ails me, Giulia. I’m only tired after a somewhat exacting conversation with the Grand Vizier. But he trusts me and I think will give me much of Master Gritti’s former work. He expressed no opinion about the war, but he has not forbidden me to counsel peace. The cup of success is full to the brim, but why—ah, why is it so bitter?”

Hardly had I said this than I began shivering in every limb and realized that I was gravely ill. Giulia at first fancied that I had been poisoned in the Grand Vizier’s palace, but having recovered from the first shock she put me to bed and administered sudorifics. I had succumbed to the fever so prevalent in Istanbul; indeed it was a wonder I had escaped it so long. It was not dangerous, but was characterized by a very severe headache.

When Grand Vizier Ibrahim learned of my disorder he showed me the greatest kindness, sending me his own physician and causing an astrological table of diet and medicines to be drawn up for my use. He also visited me in person, thereby giving rise to much whispering in the palace. The result was that during the course of my sickness I received a number of presents of the kind that pass constantly from hand co hand in the Seraglio.

Giulia was overjoyed and talked unceasingly of these gifts and their givers, and of the presents that it was my duty to offer in return. The most sensible plan would have been to pass the same things on, since this was in no way contrary to accepted custom. But Giulia was incapable of letting anything out of her hands once she had firm hold of it, however ugly or useless it might be. Thus my illness proved very costly because of all the presents I must buy, while in the Seraglio speculation grew as to what could have become of all the great bronze urns, Nubians in armor, and other strange objects that had drifted about the Seraglio for years.

When at last I began to recover, Giulia showed herself kinder and more considerate than she had been for a long time, and taking my hand one day she said, “Michael, how is it that you talk to me less openly than you used top Has your heart been turned against me by some malicious rumor? You know what a nest of gossip the Seraglio is, and my close friendship with Sultana Khurrem has aroused such jealousy that it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the most terrible things were told of me. Believe none of it, my dear Michael. You know me better than anyone—you know how openhearted I am.”

Her needless suspicions saddened me and I answered kindly, “There’s no reason for my gloomy mood. It’s all part of my sickness and will soon pass. Forgive me, and try to be patient with me as always.”

In this I was not quite frank, having seen that to be loyal to Ibrahim I must behave with reserve toward Giulia. I was sure that she would pass on to Sultana Khurrem all that I told her, and thenceforth I was very circumspect. Hitherto my candor had been excessive, a fact that was to be of great advantage now, since Giulia had come to believe me incapable of concealment.

Mindful of the Grand Vizier’s advice I now began inviting poets and eloquent dervishes to my house—ragged fellows who cared little how they earned their bread so long as they might live untrammeled among like-minded companions. Though Mussulmans, they were much addicted to wine drinking, and were glad enough to accept my invitation. I fancy they even conceived a certain liking for me, for I was content as a rule to listen silently to their talk and their poems.

As I came to know them better I was astonished at their daring, for they did not hesitate to compose biting epigrams on the Grand Vizier’s vanity, the haughty silence of the Sultan, and the various errors of which other noted men were guilty. They even wrote ambiguous verses about the laws of the Koran. The Persian art of versifying they held to be supreme and many of them were diligent in translating Persian poems into the Turkish language. They trimmed and polished their works as a jeweler polishes stones, and when they hit on some new or startling piece of imagery they rejoiced as if they had found a treasure. Yet I could not take their skilled game as seriously as they did. To them the composition of a poem seemed as admirable and important as the conquest of a kingdom or a voyage into the unknown world; they even claimed that in the golden pages of history the names of bards would outlive those of eminent generals and learned interpreters of the Koran.

Their chief merit was never to be wearisome. Caring little for this world’s goods they could sprinkle their ragged cloaks with the gold dust of fantasy, and though ever willing to compose eulogies to order for the rich and powerful, yet the pleasure of the work was of greater value to them than rich reward, and if they hit upon some happy witticism at their patron’s expense they would rather forfeit his fee than omit the jest.

The friendship of these curiously free men came to me at a fortunate moment, for I was still unduly complacent over my position, my house, my riches, and my worldly success. It was good for me to hear their acid comments on jeweled girdles, plumed turbans, and silver-mounted saddles. A bright flower or a scarlet fish swimming through crystal water was for them as breath taking a sight as any diamond. When I attempted to explain that diamonds had other merits besides beauty, the poet Baki, who neglected both ablution and prayer, drew the corner of his mantle over his dusty feet and said, “Man possesses nothing. In the end it is rather things that possess man. The only true value of a diamond is the beauty hidden within it, and beautiful things can enslave as easily as ugly ones. Wiser therefore to love a tulip-cheeked girl from a distance, for to possess her may be to become her slave and lose one’s freedom, and loss of freedom is a slow death.”

Giulia could not understand what pleasure I could take in the company of these disreputable men, from among whom I very carefully chose a few whom I could count on as my friends. She spent many of her days and nights at the Seraglio and I was not inquisitive. Unknown to her I was preparing for the hour when the Sultan and the Grand Vizier would visit my house in disguise to pass the evening in the company of poets and wits, as they had been wont to do in Master Gritti’s house.

Sometime after this the Sultan was assailed by one of his heavy fits of melancholy, and the Grand Vizier sent me an agreed signal. Late the same evening there came a sound of knocking at my gate and two slightly inebriated men, their faces hidden under a fold of their kaftans, stepped inside declaiming verses to the porter. They were of course attended by a number of guards, but these together with two deaf-mutes remained outside the house. No greater proof of Ibrahim’s confidence could have been given me. I led my visitors into the house, where they sat down somewhat apart to sip wine and listen to a learned dervish who was just then reading aloud his translation of a Persian poem.

But the others were too shrewd to be taken in by the newcomers and soon perceived that these were no ordinary guests. It would have been insulting if they had not, for Ibrahim rightly considered himself the finest-looking man in the Ottoman Empire, while Sultan Suleiman was equally assured that his own demeanor betrayed him for the nobleman he was, despite the mask he held before his face. But my guests had sense enough to feign ignorance. At his request they addressed the Sultan as Muhub the poet, and pressed him eagerly to read aloud his verses. He demurred for some time, but at length drew out a roll of paper covered with beautiful script and read from it in a musical voice. His hands shook as he did so, for he believed himself unrecognized and knew that he was in the presence of the foremost experts in the city. It was evident that he feared their candid criticism. So far as I could judge his work had no other fault than a slight verbosity, a slight monotony, and a slight touch of the commonplace, at least in comparison with Baki’s allusive, whimsical style.

His hearers expressed courteous appreciation, but no more, their self- respect as poets not permitting them to fawn even on the Sultan where their art was concerned. They raised their goblets to Muhub and praised him until a frank smile of delight overspread the Sultan’s pallid face. But Baki, the young and unabashed, added, “With a liberal hand Muhub the poet has cast pearls and gold before us, and to listen now to anything inferior would be most unbecoming. But if anyone of us can play an instrument we might in that manner venture to compete further with the incomparable Muhub.”

I fancy that all he meant by this flowery speech was that he could bear no more of the Sultan’s stilted poems and hoped that Ibrahim would pick up his famous violin. It was not to be expected, however, that Suleiman should catch the fine irony of Baki’s remark. He eagerly assented and begged Ibrahim to play. None of us had reason to regret it, for when Ibrahim, having first drunk a little wine, filled the room with his marvelous music, all the passion, joy, and longing of our fleeting lives sang to us in every cadence, until I trembled and could not restrain my tears. Even Baki wept aloud.

I need speak no more of that night. It passed away in a sedate and seemly manner, and when the guests became unduly drunk the Grand Vizier took his violin again to quieten them with his playing. No one fell asleep but Muxad-tseleb, who indeed understood little of music. The rest of us were in the gayest possible mood, and when the stars began to pale we carried Murad-tseleb out and dropped him into the fishpond to sober him, Baki holding his head above water by the beard. The keeper of the fish, roused by the shouts and splashings, dashed from his hut in only his loincloth, to throw stones and curse us with the wild curses of his homeland, until we took to our heels and lost our slippers in the flower beds. Muhub the poet even lost his turban, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks.

But now in the gray light of dawn the mutes grew uneasy at their lord’s long absence and knocked upon the door. At the sight of these two dark-skinned giants we turned suddenly very sober, as if under a cold shower. Still breathless from the chase and soiled with earth from the flower beds, Muhub the poet scrambled into his carrying chair, and with great difficulty dragged the Grand Vizier in beside him.

Sultan Suleiman visited my home about a dozen times, and met there not only poets and wise dervishes but also French and Spanish sea captains and well-informed adventurers, most of whom had not the slightest idea who he was. In the presence of foreigners and unbelievers he remained silently in the shadows and was content to listen carefully to what they had to say, putting in a question from time to time about life and conditions in European countries.

Thus it was that I came to know Sultan Suleiman, called by Christians the Magnificent, though his own people named him merely the Lawgiver. No one is a prophet in his own country. And the better I knew him, the less he charmed me; the melancholy that held him prisoner made him wearisome company. With all his faults Ibrahim remained a man among men, whereas the Sultan withdrew himself into his secret solitude, seemingly as remote from his fellow creatures as heaven is from earth.

Perhaps it was this that caused him suffering and overwhelmed him at times with that restless, gnawing fear. Because of the suspicions of his father he had lived for much of his youth in the shadow of a lurking death, when every night he lay tensely awaiting the coming of the mutes. It seemed to me that this unnaturally passionate friendship for the Grand Vizier had something in it of compulsion, as if by showering favors upon Ibrahim and investing him with limitless power he sought to convince himself that there was at least one man in the world whom he could trust.

The longer I think about Sultan Suleiman the more clearly do I perceive how little I know of his inner nature and thoughts. As lawgiver he made life easier and pleasanter for his subjects than it had formerly been—certainly better than it was in Christendom. His own slaves were the exception, for although they were free to essay the steep ladder to power they never knew whether a horsehair switch or a silken noose awaited them at the top.

My own position as the Grand Vizier’s confidant was singular. As a rule I would visit him after dark, entering the palace by a side door or through the servants’ entrance. Yet it was common knowledge in the Seraglio that petitions and reports could be most rapidly conveyed to the Grand Vizier through me. It was a mystery to everyone therefore how my wife Giulia could come and go in the harem as freely as if she lived there, how she could enjoy the Sultana’s favor, foretell the future for her and her ladies, make purchases for them in the bazaar, and—no doubt for a handsome consideration—obtain audiences with the Sultana for certain wealthy Greek and Jewish women.

Little wonder that the strangest stories about me began circulating in the Seraglio and the foreign quarter. Sometimes my influence was exaggerated, sometimes I was said to be harmless because I frequented poets and learned dervishes. When I began to receive Christian adventurers in my house my fame spread to the West and even as far as the Imperial Court. The Christians who visited me came either on secret missions, or to investigate the chances of entering the Sultan’s service, or again to establish profitable business connections in Istanbul. More than once 1 was able to do these men substantial services, and it was told of me that although I accepted presents the information I gave was strictly accurate.

It was of course natural for me to accept presents from both friends and enemies, as did every influential man in the Seraglio, for without offering them no suppliant could ever dream of gaining an audience. It was by no means an official’s salary that determined his position or the regard in which he was held, and the presents that his appointment brought him constituted by far the greater part of his regular income. The Grand Vizier himself accepted gifts, even from King Ferdinand’s envoys, these presentations being openly made and regarded merely as a courteous acknowledgment of his high station.

Because of my special duties I received many presents in secret, though for my own sake I rendered an accurate account of these to the Grand Vizier. This the givers had no notion of, and because I was apparently so easy to bribe I earned a bad reputation among Christians, who fancied that their gifts were the price of the favors done them. But thanks to Ibrahim’s liberality my conscience remained clear and I never succumbed to the temptation of deceiving him.

I may mention that the Christians threw their money about very foolishly in seeking to steer Ottoman politics in a direction favorable to themselves, and in return were often kept dangling with empty words and fair promises. Not until they were on their way home would it dawn on them to what extent the wool had been pulled over their eyes. Official ambassadors were as a rule royally received. Throughout their stay in Istanbul they were attended by a brilliant suite and a special guard of janissaries; houses and servants were assigned to them and as much as twenty ducats daily allowed them for subsistence, and they were frequently received in audience by the Grand Vizier, who was a master of procrastination.

At long last the envoys would be ushered into the golden-colonnaded chamber of the Divan, though not until they had first been dazzled by a display in the janissaries’ courtyard. Here elephants with gilded tusks were to be seen, and the magnificent procession of the viziers and their retinue. Dazed and bewildered by these splendors they found themselves bowing before the Sultan—a sultan seated upon a pearl- incrusted throne. With every breath the thousand jewels of his golden robe winked and flashed, and the ambassadors soon perceived how highly they were honored in being permitted to kiss that jeweled hand and listen to the meaningless compliments with which Suleiman was pleased to greet them. Throughout their stay in Istanbul they had felt entangled in the meshes of an invisible net; at best all they received was a signed letter from the Sultan to take home with them, and they had soon to confess that the document was worth no more than the embroidered purse in which it lay.

Such was the treatment meted out to official negotiators, and matters were no better when the Grand Vizier consented to come to my house and there, over a cup of wine, interview some Spanish nobleman or Italian adventurer who at the Emperor’s behest sought a private audience. Through such agents Charles V sought to feel the Grand Vizier’s pulse on the question of the partition of the world. By boasting of his influence with the Sultan, Ibrahim would lead his opponent on to reveal his true motives and aims. Yet however warmly he appeared to approve the proposals he was careful never to commit himself. The Sultan himself made no pronouncements, and where this subject was concerned would have nothing whatever to do with foreign spokesmen. Nevertheless he was always intensely interested to discover through the Grand Vizier how far the Emperor was willing to compromise.

I believe that both Sultan and Grand Vizier sincerely wished for peace at this time, yet all the fumbling conferences came to nothing because neither side would trust the other. It was in principle impossible for the Sultan, as Ruler of the Faithful, to consider a lasting peace with unbelievers, since the Koran expressly forbade such a policy. And for his part the Emperor, like the cynical statesman he was, would naturally take the first opportunity of uniting the Christian countries against the Sultan regardless of fair promises and secret treaties, because he rightly saw in the Ottoman Empire a constant menace to imperial power and to Christendom itself.

Sorrowfully I now learned the futility of all politics and saw that however lofty his motives, man cannot control the march of events. The Grand Vizier required my presence at these meetings so that if necessary I could testify that he had ever acted in his lord’s best interests. And as I listened I acquired a widening knowledge of political problems. I learned that one could talk long and eloquently and yet say nothing, and all too plainly I beheld the pettiness, selfishness, vanity, and weakness of mankind. The company of poets and dervishes had trained me in discerning the emptiness of worldly honors. I tried not to set too much store by my position, provided I might keep my fortune, for thanks to this, Giulia could live the life she craved and I was spared her eternal nagging. She measured success in money and valuables, and in her more amiable moments she would even admit that I had not proved so unenterprising as she had feared. She would have liked to see me stand with folded arms and modestly lowered eyes in the colonnaded chamber of the Divan when the kaftans of honor were conferred, but happily she found enough food for her vanity among the ladies of the harem. Even the Sultan’s mother received her in the Old Seraglio, though she suffered a severe heart attack because of Giulia’s prophecies. For I had cautiously guided Giulia’s thoughts in the right direction, and she was so rash as to predict that Sultana Khurrem’s son Selim would succeed to the Ottoman throne. Strangest of all, Giulia herself implicitly believed her own prophecy and began to behave toward Prince Selim with the utmost respect and veneration.

From time to time she would bring me news or warnings plainly originating with Sultana Khurrem and intended by that guileful woman to reach the Grand Vizier through me. But for his part, Ibrahim could not reconcile it with his dignity to enter into any communication with the Sultana with Giulia as intermediary. In this he made a great mistake and underrated the Sultana’s terrifying strength of will and vigilant ambition. But who at that time would have done otherwise ?

In the courts of the West the Sultana was known as Roxelana, the Russian woman. Presents, even from Christian princes, streamed to her through the golden portals of the harem; incredible stories were told of her luxurious way of life and her gorgeous clothes. One of her gowns was reputed to have cost a hundred thousand ducats. There were also tales of her cruel jealousy that made life in the harem a hell. If any woman there sought to attract the attention of the Sultan, or if he by chance glanced at one of them, Sultana Khurrem laughed gaily and saw to it that she disappeared.

I cannot say with certainty what gifts were sent her by the Emperor’s secret envoys or the King of Vienna, but during those uneasy months she did her utmost, Giulia told me, to induce the Sultan to make a treaty with the Emperor. Politically, of course, this was madness, for the Emperor had just been crowned by the Pope and had concluded peace with France, and thus stood at the height of his power. In the Diet of Augsburg he even succeeded in frightening the Protestant princes into obedience, and confident of victory was now preparing to make war on the Sultan. Indeed, in his quality of Most Catholic Majesty he implicitly obeyed the exhortation of Scripture not to let his right hand know what his left hand did. While secretly offering his left hand to the Sultan in token of peace, he slipped his right into a steel gantlet to deliver a crushing blow. Never before or since can the Ottoman Empire have been in such peril, and the Sultan’s desire for peace was easy to understand.

Fortunately, the only result of Charles V’s ultimatum to Germany was the founding by Philip of Hesse of a league of princes, in support of Luther’s teaching. King Zapolya and the King of France certainly had a finger in the pie, but the secret and I believe decisive reason for the princes’ defiance was Ibrahim’s promise of support in the event of war between them and the Emperor.

Which of these princes had their religious zeal stimulated by Turkish gold I cannot say, but Philip of Hesse at least found means to pay and equip his troops in a manner unaccountable to the Christians. I had my own reasons for frequently recalling the thin face and cold blue eyes of this man. Compared with the league he had formed, Father Julianus’s harmless preachings through Germany were of small significance. Luther and his pastors were now beginning to watch over the purity of their doctrine as jealously as ever did Holy Church, and to my sincere grief I must record that Father Julianus never returned to claim his bishopric. He was stoned to death in a small provincial town.

Thanks to the Schmalkald League, we were relieved of the heaviest of our anxieties, and the Sultan had no further need to listen to the advocates of peace. Grand Vizier Ibrahim on the contrary revived his ambitious plans for the conquest of the German states, with the Protestant princes’ support.

I disliked war, yet since for the well-being of the army a fresh campaign was necessary, it seemed to me that we had much to gain and nothing to lose by marching once more on Hungary. Among the mountains and barren wildernesses of Persia even a large army could vanish like a needle in a haystack. But in Germany the Schmalkald League bound the Emperor’s hands, and so favorable an opportunity might never return.

For Andy’s sake above all I looked upon war as something absolutely necessary, and I blamed myself for having neglected and forgotten my loyal friend for so long. One spring morning, when the tulips in my garden had unfolded their bright red and yellow cups, and fresh sea winds swept in from the sparkling Bosphorus, Andy knocked at my gate. Hearing the shouts of the porter I hurried up and at first failed to recognize my old friend. He came in barefoot with a sack on his back, wearing dirty leather breeches and a ragged turban, and I took him for one of the beggars that squatted in such numbers about my door. When I saw who it was I cried out in amazement, for Andy’s sturdy legs trembled with weariness, and his pale, staring face was twitching. He dropped the sack, pulled off his turban, and having gazed dully at me for some moments he said, “In the blessed name of the Prophet, Michael, get me something to drink—something strong—or I shall lose the remainder of my poor wits.”

I took him to the boathouse, drove out the Negroes who slept there, and with my own hands fetched him a keg of rare malmsey from the cellar. Andy knocked out the head of the keg, which he carried to his mouth, and in great gulps he drank half of what it contained. Soon the trembling in his limbs ceased and he sagged to the floor with a thud that shook the boards and sent dust flying from the joints of the walls. Then, hiding his face in his hands, he drew a deep breath and uttered so rending, so despairing a sob that I in my turn began to quake for dread.

“Michael,” he said, “I don’t know why I should burden you with my sorrows, but a man must turn to some friend at such a time. I don’t want to grieve you, but things are bad with me—as bad as they can be. Better if I had never been born into the misery of this world.”

“What in the name of Allah has happened?” I cried, in the deepest agitation. “You look as if you’d murdered someone.”

His bloodshot eyes were upon me as he answered, “I’ve been dismissed from the arsenal. They tore the plumes from my turban and kicked me out—they shook their fists and threw my belongings after me. I’m wretched, wretched.”

Relieved that it was no worse I admonished him, saying, “Is that all? You should have known what comes of drinking. But even if you have lost your pay, you’ve your wife’s fortune to turn to.”

With his head still in his hands he retorted, “I care nothing for the arsenal. We had an argument about the cannon and I told them their war galleys were only good for firewood. I wanted them to build bigger vessels to carry heavy ordnance, like the Venetians and Spaniards. So I went. He laughs best who laughs last. But I’m a sorrowful man and don’t expect to laugh ever again in this world.”

He seized the keg and poured more wine down his throat before continuing, “Your good colleague Master Gritti is behaving like a maniac in Hungary, and all the Transilvanian lords are at each other’s throats. But whether Hungarians or Moldavians, Wallachians or Tartars, all are agreed that no Mussulman shall own land in Hungary. My deed of conveyance from King Zapolya they put to what they considered its fit use before my very eyes, and have long since divided my flocks among themselves, slaughtered my cattle, and razed all the buildings to the ground. That poor Jew will suffer great loss, and I can’t get back a penny on all my lands, though they’re so wide that it takes a day and a night to ride from end to end of them. Sweet songs are brief songs, they say, and I own little but the breeches I have on.”

“But—but—” I stammered, realizing that I should have to take care of poor Andy once more, despite the friction this would cause with Giulia. Then, summoning courage, I clapped him on the shoulders and said, “We’ll find some way out, my dear Andy. But what has your wife to say to all this?”

“My wife,” said Andy absently. He raised the keg and emptied it at a draught. “I must have forgotten to tell you. The poor little girl is dead. And it was not an easy death. She suffered for three days before she went.”

“Jesus, Mary!” I cried, striking my hands together. “That is, Allah is Allah—Why did you not tell me this at first? I feel for you most deeply in your great sorrow. How did she die?”

“In childbirth, in childbirth!” said Andy in a tone of wonder. “And that was not the worst, for the child died, too.”

And so at last I learned all that had befallen Andy. He hid his face in his hands again and broke into such terrible weeping that the walls of the boathouse shook. I could find no words to comfort him in his boundless grief.

“It was a boy,” he managed to say at last. Then, enraged at his own weakness, he’ swore for the first time in many a long month in his own rough mother tongue, “Per%ele!”

Without a word I returned to the cellar and fetched another barrel of wine. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“My little foal! Her cheeks were like peaches and her eyes like bilberries. I don’t understand. But even in the early days the Jewish physician advised her to take the baths at Bursa, and I’m glad to remember that she made the journey like a princess, though at the time I grumbled foolishly at the expense. The physician told me in his learned jargon that her organs had grown askew from too much riding as a young girl. And her loins were hard as ash, for young Hungarian ladies are in the wicked habit of riding astride like men.”

“Dear Andy, my brother and my friend! All these things were written in the stars before your birth. Sweet songs are brief songs, as you say, and you lived in your happiness so long as it pleased Allah. Who knows? She might have lived to weary of you and make eyes at some other man.”

Andy shook his heavy head. “Stop chattering, Michael, and tell me—were their deaths sent to punish me for deserting the Christian faith? I believe I’m as good a Moslem as any, though I can’t recite all the prayers. In my heart I’ve never denied our Lord or His mother—Mussulmans venerate them, too—and I’ve been sneered at for never treading the Cross underfoot. But as I was roaming about the city in my anguish I chanced to enter the Christian church, and when I heard the intoning of the priest and the ringing of the bell I seemed to hear also the devil himself laughing at me in mockery, because I’d forsaken God of my free will and at your bidding. For God’s sake, help me, Michael, and give me peace again. My son was not baptized and my wife neglected both confession and communion after our marriage, though in other ways she was a good Christian. It is frightful to think that because of my falling away they must burn in eternal fire.”

I could not but reflect seriously upon what he said. With trembling hands I raised the wine to my lips and sought in it the courage that I lacked. I thought it unfair of Andy to blame me for his defection, and said with some heat, “Pray remember that we took the turban independently of one another; I never asked you to do it. Though if we must go to hell for our sins I admit we shall most likely go side by side—indeed, for once I may be a step ahead of you, being a scholar and therefore more answerable for my actions than you.”

Andy replied impatiently, “I’ll account to the Lord for my own actions without troubling you. But why did He strike down my wife and son? What sin can my little boy have committed? I learned as a child how vain it is for a poor man to hope for justice in this world, but all the more confidently did I hope for it in the next.”

I know not whether the wine had given me courage or merely clouded my judgment, but for the first time in my life I confessed to myself that I was the worst of all heretics.

“Andy,” I said gravely, “I’m weary of quibbles and of juggling with words. Only in a man’s own heart is God to be found, and no man can save another by expounding texts, be they in Latin, Arabic, or Hebrew. If indeed there is an eternal, omnipotent, and omniscient God, would He trouble to aim His wrath at a poor worm like you?”

Andy’s head shook and tears rolled into his great hands as he said, “Perhaps you’re right, Michael. Who am I that God’s great cannon should be trained on me? Give me a truss of straw to lie upon for a few days, Michael, and a little bread; I will get over this as best I may and consider how to start life afresh. It’s only in stories that men win a princess and half a kingdom. In the days of my great happiness I used to fancy that I must be dreaming, and soon I think I shall be able to believe it. First I will take the edge off sorrow by getting properly drunk; then in the drabness and headache of waking I shall remember the past in all humility as a dream too fair for an oaf like me.”

His resignation so deeply moved me that I too wept, and together we mourned the sorrows and vanities of life. Andy being already very drunk I fetched a sleeping draught from my medicine chest, and mixed enough of it with his wine to stun an ox. Soon he sank back unconscious on the floor, to all appearances dead save for a faint whistling in his nose.

He slept for two days and nights, and when he woke he took a little to eat. I did not vex him with needless chatter, but left him alone to dangle his legs from the jetty and stare at the restless waters of the Bosphorus.

Some days later he came to me and said, “I know I’m a burden to you here, and especially to your wife, so I shall keep out of the way and live with your Negroes in the boathouse, if you’ll let me. But give me work to do—the heavier the better. Idleness irks me, and I would like to do something in return for my food and sleeping place.”

I was abashed at his words, for Giulia had indeed pointed out somewhat sharply that Andy ate at least three aspers’ worth of food a day and used a mattress and blanket that properly belonged to the Negroes; she also suggested that he should bestir himself a little to earn his keep. And although I should have preferred to see Andy treated as an old friend of the family, I summoned Alberto and asked him to find suitable work—a request that he seemed to have been expecting. He took Andy at once to the northwest corner of the garden, which had not yet been cleared, and told him to break stones and build a terrace there. It was an improvement long planned, and postponed because of the expense. Andy also chopped wood and carried water to the kitchen, and all with such good will that even the slaves began leaving him their work to do. He tried to avoid us, but Giulia often purposely stood in his path to gloat over his degradation. Nevertheless it seemed to me at times that Andy, as he bowed and shambled off to do her bidding, was silently laughing at her; this I took as a sign of his recovery.

War was again imminent, and this time camel trains set forth months in advance, carrying bridge-building materials to the banks of the Danube tributaries. Charles V proclaimed the Turkish peril in all the German states, and by thus spreading alarm among the people he succeeded also in inflaming them against the Protestant princes. I could not but admire his astute use of a situation on which the Grand Vizier had based his own hopes for a successful campaign. I observed these things with the impartial eye of an onlooker, and one with personal experience of German lands of which Ibrahim, as a Moslem, could have only a dim idea.

To my great joy Ibrahim thought it best for me to remain in Istanbul in charge of his secret business, though I could not tell from his expression whether this order was a mark of special favor or a sign of lessening confidence. Mustafa ben-Nakir had lately arrived in the Sultan’s capital, having journeyed first from Persia to India in company with old Suleiman the eunuch, Viceroy of Egypt, and then after countless adventures returned to Basra aboard an Arabian smuggler. He had grown thinner and his eyes seemed bigger than before, but he was otherwise unchanged. The scent of the costly oils with which he anointed his hair spread agreeably through the room, the silver bells jingled at girdle and knee, and the book of Persian poems was worn with diligent use, I greeted him as a long-lost friend, and Giulia, too, was glad to see him. He sought out Andy and sat for a long time cross legged in the grass watching him break stones for the terrace. But although Mustafa ben-Nakir’s sole purpose in coming seemed to be to describe in glowing colors the wonders and the wars of India, he had in fact secret business with me and took me to meet the renowned eunuch Suleiman.

Suleiman the eunuch was at this time a man of some seventy years, and so fat that his little eyes had almost disappeared. Four strong slaves were needed to raise him to his feet when once he had sat down. He had attained the viceroyalty of Egypt by his unswerving fidelity. In the past, otherwise competent viceroys of wealthy, decadent Egypt had fallen a prey to all manner of ambitious dreams until it seemed as if a curse lay over that ancient land.

But because of his enormous bulk and his age, Suleiman was too lazy and also too astute to contemplate rebellion against the Sultan, and had of course no sons to whom he might be tempted to bequeath a crown, nor any ambitious wife to egg him on. And although he looked with delight upon beautiful slave girls and kept two of them about him to scratch the soles of his feet, this was, so far as I know, his only indulgence. He did not even care to rob the Sultan to any great extent, and punctually remitted his yearly tribute without arousing among his subjects the customary lamentations. He was thus a most unusual man and because of his independent position was almost equal in rank to the Grand Vizier. It was a great honor for me to be received and addressed by him.

“Deeply though I deplore the needless trouble he puts himself to,” he began, “and his restless wandering from place to place, yet because of the beauty of Mustafa ben-Nakir’s eyes and his bewitching manner of reading poetry aloud I find myself compelled to listen to him. But now, no doubt because of his unpleasant experiences of Portuguese pirates in India, he has taken it into his head that the honor of Islam requires the liberation of the princes of Diu and Calicut from the Portuguese yoke. In the course of his long journeys he has formed useful friendships to this end, and has heard from reliable sources that these two unhappy princes would gladly welcome the Sultan’s sea janissaries as liberators.”

Mustafa ben-Nakir regarded me with his clear, innocent eyes and said, “Those brigands have stopped the Mussulman spice trade and carried away the cargos in their own ships round Africa to Europe. They oppress the inhabitants of Diu and rob the Arabian merchants—indeed, they rob even their own king by sending inferior spices to Lisbon and keeping the pepper to sell to Moslem smugglers at usurers’ prices. The Portuguese have instituted a reign of terror in India that is a disgrace to all Islam—to say nothing of the loss of trade, both to the Sultan’s dominions and to our true friends the Venetians. The unhappy Indians yearn for the coming of the Deliverer.”

“Allah is Allah!” I said. “Let me hear no more of deliverers, Mustafa ben-Nakir; I am older and wiser than I was in Algeria, and the word leaves a taste of blood behind it. Speak out and tell me what you want and what I am to gain by it, and for the sake of our friendship I will give you what help I may.”

Suleiman the eunuch sighed heavily and glanced at Mustafa ben- Nakir, saying, “What times we live in! You youngsters have no notion of the pleasure to be found in leisurely bargaining, and you stifle the art of conversation for which so admirable an opportunity has now arisen. What fever has overtaken the world? Whither are you hurrying? To the grave? But you may give my purse to your greedy friend, Mustafa ben-Nakir, if you can come at it beneath my cushions.”

Mustafa ben-Nakir felt beneath the heavily flattened cushions and brought out a handsome purse whose weight at once convinced me of Suleiman’s sincerity. With hands folded over his vast belly he sat sighing with contentment, while a lovely girl scratched the sole of his right foot. He closed his eyes, curled his toes voluptuously, and said, “Though all is vanity and a chasing after shadows, yet despite my age I have been entranced by the flowery lyrics of Mustafa ben-Nakir’s speech and inspired to accomplish heroic deeds. Being an old sailor I’m also assailed by a senile jealousy of the much-praised Khaireddin, who is and ever will be a pirate. For a man of my girth a large ship is the safest and most comfortable means of transport, and I know nothing more agreeable than sitting beneath an awning on the poop deck, gently rocked by the sea breezes. My digestion functions incomparably better at sea than on land, and that for a man of my age and proportions is of supreme importance. During storms or when roundshot sing over the vessel my bowels display an incredible activity. Regularity is the foundation of health, young men, and for that reason alone I should like to build a Red Sea fleet and so spend as much time as I may on the water. I should have no objection if Ottoman historians were to record that Suleiman-pasha the eunuch conquered India for his stomach’s sake. There is nothing to laugh at, Michael el-Hakim. Disorders of the stomach have influenced world history before now and will do so again. Nothing is too petty or too insignificant for Allah to make use of in weaving his great carpet.”

I could not forbear smiling at the singular pretext he had chosen, but Mustafa ben-Nakir looked at me with the utmost gravity and said, “You’re a man of perception, Michael el-Hakim, yet even reasoned conclusions may lead one astray. My friend Suleiman, unlike most men, is under no necessity of lying. Were it gold he coveted, he would find more than enough of it in Egypt. As for military glory, he rates it about as highly as the bodily function of which he has so eloquently spoken. But I read in your eyes that you don’t believe him, from which we must regretfully infer that no one in the Seraglio will believe him either—perhaps not the Grand Vizier himself.”

Suleiman the eunuch wheezily interposed, “That is why we need your advice, Michael el-Hakim. And besides this, the sea pashas approve no fleets but their own. The money, vessels, and materials secretly offered me by the Signoria only increase the delicacy of the matter. In short, I cannot submit my plans to any but the Grand Vizier himself. You must convince him that there is nothing wrong in what I ask. Let him then persuade the Sultan to remit, say, a third of the annual tribute from Egypt for the next three years. With that sum I can build the Red Sea fleet. Warships are the most expensive toys ever invented, and I should be loath to impose extra taxes on Egypt. At the same time it would be beneath the Sultan’s dignity to allow his fleet to be paid for entirely by foreign powers.”

Twist and turn the matter as I would, I could only conclude that Suleiman was sincere and that apart from his digestion, solicitude for the Sultan alone induced him to put forward these proposals, so as to bring the vast profits of the spice trade once more under the Sultan’s control. Mustafa ben-Nakir watched my expression narrowly and said, “You must see that Suleiman-pasha cannot propose this of himself. After seeming opposition to the plan he will give in and build the fleet, and take it to India if the Sultan so commands. Michael, here is the opportunity of your life. If you succeed and have a share in this enterprise from the beginning, the princes of the West will one day envy you your riches.”

Suleiman stretched his fat legs and curled his toes luxuriously, saying, “I have few passions, but I love to collect human beings. I love to see the varied forms in which Allah molds his dust, to inspire it with the breath of his nostrils. I have taken a fancy to your anxious eyes, Michael el-Hakim, and marvel at the deep line so prematurely drawn between your brows. You will ever be welcome to Cairo as my guest, and the time may come when you’ll be glad of a refuge and a protector beyond the range of the Sultan’s artillery. Victory and defeat are in the hands of Allah, and who knows what the morrow may bring?”

Indian affairs so captured my imagination that I did all I could to secure Ibrahim’s support for Suleiman’s plan. And although because of the impending war the Seraskier had many other things on his mind, he did not fail to mention the matter to the Sultan, who secretly commanded Suleiman the eunuch to build his fleet, ostensibly to defend the Red Sea against the ever more daring raids of Portuguese pirates. But for this the Sultan would accept no help from Venice.

Once again I begin a new book, and this time in the name of Allah, the Merciful and Compassionate. For my eighth book will show how the worm of decay was already nibbling at the fairest of blossoms, and perhaps also poisoning my own poor renegade’s heart.

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