Once I brought your father home, I had to find the doctor, make a formal report to the authorities, send a messenger to Barsam the Elusive. It took some time for Master Teodor to regain consciousness, and even then his mind was not fully itself. There was one thing he stated plainly: that he wanted to ask Barsam for more time. I sent the tea merchant’s boy with that request.”
“Oh, God. So he was set upon before he even got to Barsam’s house.” And there was only one bidder left in the race. My heart plummeted. I did not want Duarte Aguiar to have done this, but there could be only one conclusion.
“So it seems. If Barsam denies sending an escort for him, which I believe he will, then it appears this guard was a means of luring Master Teodor out unprotected. He should have waited for me.”
I looked up at him, seeing the desolation in his eyes. “Let’s go on now,” I said. “I’ll walk as fast as I can. You’ve done all the right things, Stoyan. Without you, we might not have found him in time.”
“When he needed me, I was not there,” he said, as if there were no possible excuse for this.
“You weren’t there because I made you take me to Irene’s. That makes it my fault. If not for me, he would have had you to protect him.”
“This is not your fault, Paula.”
“No,” I agreed. “And it’s not yours either. I very much suspect the fault lies with Duarte Aguiar. And if he’s hurt my father, I’m going to make sure he’s held accountable.”
Father had been moved to a different apartment, next to Giacomo’s. He lay against his pillows, his face pale beneath bruises, a bandage swathing his head. The doctor, a youngish man wearing spectacles similar to the ones I used for reading, was seated by the bed, a hand on his patient’s wrist. I took heart from his calm demeanor.
“Paula!” Father said weakly. “You’re safe, thank God.”
I put this together with Stoyan’s dramatic arrival at the hamam and realized they had genuinely believed that whoever had attacked Father might decide to assault me as well.
“Of course I’m safe,” I told him. “I was at Irene’s. And, unlike you, I waited for Stoyan to come and fetch me. Father, what possessed you to go out without him? You must have known—” At the look in his eyes, I stopped myself. “Are you seriously hurt?” I asked him, then glanced across at the doctor.
“Master Teodor has received severe bruising to his back and legs,” the doctor said quietly, speaking in Greek as we were. “No bones are broken. It could be said he was lucky.”
“What about his head? Why is it bandaged?”
“All I can remember is a thump on the back of the skull,” Father said. “The next thing I knew, I was waking up here with Stoyan hovering over me, looking like death. He’d carried me all the way back. I didn’t see my attacker at all. Paula, is there a message from Barsam yet? It’s well past the deadline. I must know if I have an extension of time.”
“I will see if the boy has returned,” Stoyan said. “If not, I will go to the blue house. Write a message if you wish; I will take it there.”
But the boy had returned, and he had brought a note. We asked the doctor if he would mind stepping out of the chamber for a little, and then I read it aloud, my voice faltering before I got halfway down the page.
“‘It is now well past the hour to which we agreed. As I had another party interested, I must regretfully advise you that the item in question has been sold. I wish you every good fortune in your future business….’”
Below the bandage, Father’s face was desolate. I struggled to find words through a rising tide of anger. What sort of way was this to conduct a transaction, using physical violence against a man of fifty to ensure he could not outbid you in what should have been a fair and proper contest? Father could have died.
“Duarte Aguiar shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this,” I muttered, trying to mask my distress.
“As I told you, I have reported the attack,” said Stoyan. “I was asked what party I suspected might have been responsible. I told the authorities that Master Teodor was involved in a sensitive trading matter. Without your permission, I could go no further.”
“Father,” I said in a tone that sounded falsely cheerful even to me, “you’re alive and you’re not seriously hurt. Nothing’s more important than that. Later, perhaps we can give the authorities more information and bring the perpetrator to justice. Right now you need to rest and do what the doctor tells you. Stoyan, will you please let him back in?”
Father put his head on the pillows and closed his eyes. His face was a study in white and gray. Seeing him like that filled me with fury. Underneath it, my resolve strengthened. I wasn’t going to let this pass. I was going to see justice done. And it wouldn’t be through the authorities, whoever they were. That would be too slow. This needed attention now.
I asked the doctor how long he was able to stay, and he said until sunset. Maria was recovered from yesterday’s illness, and she and Giacomo had been coming in and out, tending to Father. They offered to take turns sitting up with him overnight so I could sleep. I was certain Stoyan would remain on duty here, guarding the door against intruders, at least until it was time for me to go to bed.
As I sat sipping the tea Maria had brought in and watching Father fall into a restless slumber, my mind was working quickly. I’d wager a silver piece against a wooden spoon that the
Tabriz, that was the town Barsam had mentioned. I delved into my memory of geography. By water, it would be northward up the Bosphorus, then eastward along the Black Sea before starting a difficult overland journey. Even if Irene’s theory was off the mark, Duarte would want to be gone from Istanbul straightaway. Perhaps he’d purchased Cybele’s Gift by legitimate sale, but the means he’d used to gain the advantage were criminal. He knew we had friends in the merchant community of the city. He must realize that influential people like Giacomo, Alonso di Parma, and Irene of Volos would rally around Father and demand justice. If I waited too long, the
I finished my tea. Father was asleep. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, feeling like a traitor.
“Stoyan,” I said quietly, “my ankle’s hurting. I’m going back to our apartment to lie down for a while.”
