end.
Seeing that further resistance was useless he collapsed in tears and begged me to bear no malice. In return I asked him to surrender the Castilian flag, for which he could have no further use. Sighing deeply he unwound it from his arm and laid it in my hands. To me, therefore, fell the honor for the capture of Penjon.
Meanwhile the Moslems had been streaming past us through the breach in such numbers that the courtyard was soon crammed, and in their frenzy they slew a number of Spaniards before Khaireddin’s officers and janissaries could intervene. Khaireddin had given strict orders that as many Spaniards as possible should be spared, for he stood in great need of labor for demolition and building works, and for repairs to buildings damaged in the street fighting and bombardment. The savage bloodlust of the Mussulmans so revolted me that I longed to get away, and Andy too was fidgeting. We therefore resolved to embark and bring Captain de Varga before Khaireddin.
Khaireddin, attended by a numerous suite, was waiting on the shore. Many foolish Moslems had hastened up to him and thrown the heads of unbelievers at his feet. At last he lost his temper and shouted, “A hundred lashes to the next man who dares bring me a Christian head. Spaniards are sturdy fellows and every head leaves me the poorer.”
But he soon forgot his wrath when Andy, Mustafa ben-Nakir, and I approached him, thrusting Captain de Varga before us. Blood was still running from the wound in my cheek as I threw the Castilian standard at the feet of Khaireddin. He trod it eagerly underfoot, exclaiming piously, “Allah is great, and marvelous is the might of Islam, that transforms a lamb into a ravening lion.”
Turning to Captain de Varga he said curtly, “Wicked and obstinate man, where is your king and the help you were expecting from Spain? Will you confess now, idolater, that Allah alone is mighty?”
Captain de Varga answered, “You have only my men’s treachery to thank for victory. Given the smallest support I would have driven you from the city and occupied the harbor.”
Khaireddin surveyed him for a time, stroking his beard. He could not but admire the inflexible spirit of his enemy, and said, “Ah, Captain de Varga! Had I such men as you beside me, I could certainly drive the Emperor from his throne. Tell me what I can do for you, for I desire your friendship.”
Captain de Varga replied, “Brave men always understand one another, and that is something that cowards can never grasp.”
“There are many mussel shells in the world,” remarked Khaireddin, “but few contain pearls. Even rarer is a truly brave man. Therefore I’m willing to bestow riches on you and even place you in command, on one condition-that you take the turban and acknowledge that the one God and his Prophet are worth more than Christian idolatry. You’d not be the first Spaniard to take this step, as you may see for yourself by glancing at my officers.”
Captain de Varga was outraged, and stared at his adversary for some time; his beard quivered and his eyes glowed when at last he replied, “Were I false to my faith I should be worse than the worst of my betrayers. Do not insult me with such proposals, and remember that I am a Spaniard and a gentleman.”
Khaireddin sighed. “I have no wish to coerce you, for Islam forbids forcible conversion. But you’re too dangerous a man to let loose among the other prisoners, and I shall be unhappily compelled to behead you if you refuse the turban.”
Captain de Varga crossed himself meekly and said, “I’m a de Varga; may my ancestors never have cause to be ashamed of their kinsman. Strike quickly, then, that I may show myself worthy of my God, my king, and my country.”
He said a few prayers, crossed himself, and knelt down upon the sand. The executioner took off his head at one stroke, and expressed admiration for his noble behavior. He then threaded a leather thong through the ears and suspended the head from the bridle of Khaireddin’s horse.
Thus the siege of Penjon was accomplished, long before the muezzin had called the faithful to the noon prayer. For my own part I could not sufficiently thank my lucky star for protecting me from all danger and covering me with glory.
Later, when I started to walk home, Mustafa ben-Nakir came with me, absently twirling the bells of his girdle. The deaf-mute was preparing food when we arrived, while Giulia sat on the bed painting her toenails. She paid us little attention, from which I concluded that she had been down to the harbor to spy upon us and had seen me there unhurt in Khaireddin’s company.
“Oh, is it you, Michael?” she exclaimed in feigned surprise. “I hardly expected you so soon. And where can you have been, I wonder? While the faithful were waging their holy war you were no doubt dallying in some harem, for you appear to have been somewhat passionately kissed.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir said, “Delilah, I appreciate that with a veil you. couldn’t perform your present important task. But remember that I find the temptation of your eyes very hard to withstand. I beg you to leave us. My friend Michael and I have much to talk of; if you have a spark of pity in your cruel heart, don’t allow that mad slave to poison us with the garbage he’s preparing, but cook something for us with your own fair hands.”
So he flattered Giulia and at the same time taught me how one should speak to women when one wants something from them. When Giulia had put away her toilet box and left us, Mustafa ben-Nakir drew forth his Persian book and began to read aloud. But I was weary of his whimsical ways and busied myself with dressing the wound in my cheek. At last he laid aside his book and said, “You surprise me, Michael el-Hakim. I hardly know what to make of you. I wonder whether after all you’re a little simple? I can find no other explanation of your foolhardy behavior.”
“Perhaps like you, Mustafa, I allow myself to be ruled by impulse at times. Ask me no questions about today’s doings. Truth to tell I hardly know why I acted as I did, unless it was to show Giulia that I take no orders from her.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir nodded. “We’ll talk of Giulia later. You need not part with her: she shall go with you. Perhaps you know that for years Khaireddin has been out of favor with the High Porte. He and his brother are thought to have made illicit use of the ships and janissaries sent by the Sultan to Baba Aroush. There may be some truth in this, but since then Khaireddin has thought better of it. This summer he means to strengthen and consolidate his power; but in the autumn his ambassador is to sail for Istanbul with rich presents for the Sultan, to claim confirmation of Khaireddin’s appointment as beylerbey of Algeria. After this Khaireddin will again place himself under the protection of the High Porte. Besides gifts, the envoy will take many slaves to the Sultan, including yourself, Michael el-Hakim, your brother Antar, and your own slave, Delilah, whom you call Giulia.”
“Allah is great,” I said bitterly. “Is this the recompense for all I have done-to be led once more by the nose into the unknown, like a ringed ox?”
Mustafa ben-Nakir was shocked. “How ungrateful you are, Michael el-Hakim! Another man would fall and kiss the ground at my feet in thankfulness. You cannot know that the most powerful men in the Ottoman Empire, from the Grand Vizier downward, are all slaves of the Sultan. Most of them were brought up in the Seraglio and have advanced, each according to his talents, to the most responsible positions. The very highest officials are subordinate to one or other of the Sultan’s slaves. To be a slave of his is therefore an aim worthy of the most ambitious; if he succeeds there is no limit to what he can do.”
“Many thanks!” I said with irony, though I had listened attentively to what he told me. “But I’m not in the least ambitious, and I feel that the higher a slave may climb toward the pinnacles of power, the more terrible will be his fall.”
“You’re right, Michael,” Mustafa admitted. “Yet even on a level floor a man may stumble. And climbing is difficult; it demands experience and practice. There’s more to it than merely scrambling upward. One must also shake off and kick away those who climb after-those who tug at one’s cloak and try in every way to drag one down. But climbing strengthens a man and forms part of that wise statecraft which the sultans inherited from the emperors of Byzantium. Remember that the Ottomans have always been ready to adopt whatever is useful and practical, from any nation. Only the shrewdest and most resourceful man can attain the heights of power in the Seraglio, where everyone spies on his neighbor and tries to trip him up. Yet the disadvantages of the system are outweighed by the element of chance. All advancement depends ultimately on the Sultan’s favor, which may be won as easily by the humblest woodcutter as by the most powerful vizier.”
A chill stole over me.
“Who and what are you, Mustafa ben-Nakir?” I asked.
an important part. The Grand Vizier has lost faith in the Sultan’s sea pashas; Khaireddin is the only true seaman. So the way is to be made smooth for him and only good is to be spoken of him in the Seraglio; his name and reputation must be exalted there, his victories painted in glowing colors, and any defeats explained away. Most
