He hid his face in his hands and his whole body shook with passion, pain, and the sorcery that wine and the cool spring night had wrought. Andy approached, commiserated with him on the birth pangs of his poem, and helped him to his feet, though he too was so unsteady that they nearly tumbled into the water together. When Mustafa had released himself from Andy’s arms he seized me by the shoulders and muttered thickly, “You know enough, Michael el-Hakim! Hasten now to him who is in both our thoughts. When he has promised to do his part we will make all ready for tomorrow.”
Andy helped Mustafa away to bed and then at my orders put on a clean kaftan to attend me, for I dared not set forth alone on so perilous an errand. While the sleepy slaves were preparing the boat, Giulia came hurrying down to the landing stage, wringing her hands and weeping.
“Don’t leave me alone, Michael! What has happened and what did Mustafa ben-Nakir want of you? And whither are you bound? You would not hide anything rrom me?”
I told her that Mustafa ben-Nakir had drunk himself insensible while composing a poem in honor of a certain exalted lady, but that I, being unable to sleep, was on my way to the great mosque to watch and pray. She told me that she too was sleepless and begged me to take her with me, that she might seek the company of the harem ladies. I could not refuse, yet it was without pleasure than I took my place beside her beneath the stern awning; indeed, I was surprised at my own sudden antipathy to her presence. Chancing to brush against her I felt that she was trembling.
“Are you cold, Giulia?” I asked in wonder. Then as she drew away from me, I turned my eyes to Alberto’s dark, expressionless face. I remembered Giulia’s cat, and many other things, until I too began to tremble.
“That Tunisian drug,” I said in a low voice. “Why did you put it in the fruit you gave me some days ago? I had no need of it; I was quite well.”
My calm tones lured her into the trap, for scheming though her nature was she often saw no farther than the end of her nose.
“Ah, Michael, you’re not angry with me? It was for your good. You looked unwell and I feared you might have caught the boatman’s sickness. I could not guess it would make you so ill.”
After this admission I knew for certain that Sultana Khurrem had heard of the drug and begged her to obtain some of it. But Giulia had wanted first to try it out on me. It was clear that in such a matter the Sultana could not approach the Seraglio physicians. But Giulia was her confidante, and the very next evening the drug was in Khurrem’s hands, to be skillfully introduced into the finest of the fruits destined for the Sultan’s dessert. Courtesy, of course, required the Grand Vizier to offer the Sultan this very fruit.
Despite this new evidence of Giulia’s treachery I felt no particular anger. Perhaps it had consumed itself. Indeed the certainty brought me something approaching relief. No more was said, and when we came alongside the Seraglio quay I set her and Alberto ashore before proceeding further to the end of the street leading to the great mosque. From here Andy and I could walk unnoticed uphill toward the Atmeidan and then follow the high wall surrounding the forbidden gardens. While I entered the Grand Vizier’s palace by a back entrance, Andy remained on guard in the street.
I was taken straight to the Grand Vizier, who was sitting in his library on a plain leather cushion, holding a Greek parchment in his hand. He smiled pleasantly and said, “My clock is slow, and so I am not at all surprised to see you at so late an hour.”
This time he was singularly well and carefully dressed. His hair was oiled and his hands and nails colored. He had even put red on his lips and wore earrings set with sparkling diamonds, and seemed to have regained his usual serenity. Wasting no time on preliminary courtesies I said, “Noble lord, your clock is not slow. I fancy that someone has bribed your clockmaker or the Sultan’s to put it deliberately out of order, for you to take it as a bad omen. But your clock is not slow, happy Ibrahim. Indeed, it gains upon that of your enemies.”
I told him rapidly of all I had learned-of the poison in the fruit, of the
“All is in readiness and nothing remains for you to do but to grasp the rudder of events. Strike first! Remember that where you are concerned the Sultan is nothing but an assassin. You eat alone together, and you are certainly stronger than he. You can take no weapon with you, but you can strangle him with the chain of the square seal. No one will suspect that of being the means of death, however carefully they search your clothes. But first strike him a heavy blow on the temple to keep him quiet. Be swift and bold and all will go well. Dominion of the empire awaits you-dominion perhaps of the whole world!”
He listened to me quietly and as if I were telling him some familiar tale. When I had finished, he said softly, “So, Michael el-Hakim, you’re a traitor after all. But why did you not poison me, when you had so good an opportunity, or at least rob me? But I have had the money counted and none is missing. Truly Allah’s creatures are strange in their diversity. There, do not weep! I would not for the world distress my only friend.”
He patted me lightly on the cheek with his warm hand and invited me to sit at his right side; he poured wine for me into a golden goblet and chose for me the best pieces from a dish before him, as if I had been an honored guest. Having calmed me he went on, “You may be my friend, yet you do not know me. I have long considered all you suggest, and the plan in itself is excellent. Yet there is one drawback. Myself. No one knows this but the Sultan, and he showed his knowledge of it in giving me his seal. In his heart he knows that our friendship binds me closer than iron fetters. No, I shall not murder him. Since his youth he has been a melancholy man, and sorrow will keep him even closer company when I am gone. Henceforth terror will rule the Seraglio-and all because of the Russian. Deeply, deeply do I pity him. He will be the loneliest man in all the Empire.
“You once said that a man must be loyal to at least one creature on earth. If you, then why not I? Man is greater than statecraft, honor, wealth, and power, though many will not see this. But let us be honest and admit that just as your loyalty to me is no more than loyalty to yourself, so is my loyalty to the Sultan nothing but loyalty to a certain poor Ibrahim who sits at his side, trying to persuade himself that he is a true man. The hour of parting is at hand, and we may doff our masks.”
For a long time we sat in silence until no doubt he wearied of my company, for he said politely, “If indeed you do not mean to run away, do me one last service and have my body buried decentiy, after the Moslem fashion.”
I suspect that he made me this last request from sheer courtesy, to show his faith in me, for he can have cared little what became of his remains. But I promised to do as he asked and kissed his hand and shoulder in farewell. Thus I parted forever from the most notable and singular of all the men I have met, a greater man than either the Emperor or the Sultan.
When I emerged from the servants’ entrance I found Andy sitting in the street in the moonlight, singing a scurrilous German song. I said, “This is Ramadan, my dear Andy. Let us go to the great mosque to pray.”
As with slippers in hand we stepped through the great copper gates and in among the porphyry pillars, peace entered my heart as softly and gently as my bare feet sank into the rich carpets on the floor. Only a few lamps were burning, and above them the vast dome soared up like the night sky.
The mosque was empty, but soon the feast of Bairam would come, when on the last night of Ramadan the hundred lamps would burn, the gilded texts would gleam from the giant medallions, and tens of thousands of Moslems would crowd under the great dome to hear the Koran read aloud from the throne of the Imams. Sultan Suleiman himself would be present, and behind the golden grille the ladies of the harem would follow the ceremonial, among them the devout Sultana Khurrem with Giulia at her side. But I should not share in the rejoicing. Along subterranean conduits my headless body would be sluggishly moving toward the Marmara.
Beneath a solitary lamp I pressed my forehead to the soft rug, rose, and once more prostrated myself before the face of Allah. But above all I directed my prayers to the incorruptible judge within myself, begging for strength to leave my imprisoning body without fear.
The crescent moon was dipping into cloud as the boat touched our landing stage and we stepped ashore. Giulia had not returned, nor was the skulking Alberto to be seen. Mustafa ben-Nakir still lay in profound slumber on my bed. I resolved to take advantage of the moment and said to Andy, “I want to speak to you seriously, so don’t interrupt me with foolish questions. Tomorrow, the next day, or at latest in three days’ time I shall be a dead man. As I am a slave of the Sultan’s, my house and possessions revert to him, though through the favor she enjoys Giulia may be able to secure a lawful settlement. She is a free woman. And you, Andy, are a free man; I have seen to that. Your share of Muley-Hassan’s diamonds is in my care and after my death you’re to have my share, too. No one knows of these stones. Now is our chance to bury them in the garden. After my death, after the auction that will be
