held here, and when I have been quite forgotten-that will be at most a week, if I know the Seraglio-you can dig them up and sell the smallest of them to a reliable Jew for your journey money. I will give you his name later. The wisest thing you can do is to go to Egypt and seek the protection of the good eunuch Suleiman. You can either sail with him to India or, if he advises it, return to Venice and the Christian countries. You would do best to leave this house early tomorrow and stay for the time with the dervishes, for Moslems treat their holy men and other eccentrics well and do not persecute them.”
Andy stared at me with an expressionless face. Then sighing deeply he said, “Allah truly is the one God, though at times I have doubted his sanity, peace be with him. I hear and I obey, and will pack up and go to Egypt if need be. But there’s a time for everything and I shall not give up until I have seen your head fall with my own eyes. No, I shall not leave you, though they should crack my skull for it-if they can.”
I rebuked him; I sought with both harsh and gentle words to persuade him. But he was obdurate, and I could do nothing but thank him irritably for his friendship and then hurry down with him to bury the diamonds.
By the time we returned from this task, one could distinguish a black thread from a white, and a new day in Ramadan was beginning. Regardless of the sacred laws we went at once to rest, and with the peace of renunciation in my heart I sank into a profound slumber. I lay thus until roused by Mustafa ben-Nakir, who hung over me with tousled hair and his lionskin askew over his shoulders. Rising quickly I washed and dressed without a word, and at the sight of my face he too held his peace. Then unwilling to keep him longer in suspense I told him of what had passed.
As I spoke his face grew ever darker, though like a wise man he allowed no needless ejaculation to escape his lips-a circumstance greatly to his credit, for who else could have listened without cursing to the story of the crazed obstinacy with which the Grand Vizier had thrust aside our helping hands? When I had ended, Mustafa ben- Nakir began in his turn to wash himself, dye his hands, and anoint his head.
“Grand Vizier Ibrahim has condemned himself,” he said at last. “It is easy to be mistaken in people. But now both your neck and mine are in danger, and no one will thank us for following Ibrahim to his death like sheep. Let us save our skins and cleanse ourselves from blame by testifying against him. No further harm can come to him through that, since the Sultan has already pronounced his doom by appealing to the Mufti.”
“Allah, Allah!” I cried aghast. “May your name be accursed if ever you do such a thing.”
He looked at me in wonder and said coldly, “I have my position and my work to do in the world, and the cornerstone of statesmanship is realism. The wise man abstains from vain struggle and joins the victor, so as to claim his share in the spoils. The turncoat is often in a better position than the conqueror, for he knows more and can sell his knowledge at a higher price.”
I gazed into his shining eyes and beautiful face.
“No,” I said softly. “I follow you no longer, Mustafa ben-Nakir. I have had enough of your doctrines.”
“Then you’re a simpleton, Michael el-Hakim, and I’ve been mistaken in you. Remember that only stupidity is punished. Not lechery, nor greed, nor betrayal, nor apostasy, but stupidity alone. And truth is the worst stupidity, for only the feeble-minded thinks he has found truth. But we will speak no more of this, and I will not seek to persuade a man as simple as you.”
“You’re right, son of the angel of death,” I answered. “All you have told me I have found out for myself. And so it is high time for me to prove that there is something greater in man than I used to think. This concerns only me, and you must forgive me if I now ask you to go. I’m weak and easily led, and should hate to betray myself at the last moment.”
A seductive smile overspread Mustafa ben-Nakir’s face, like sunlight on a shroud.
“How can you be so sure that I am evil? How can you know that I am not the incorruptible judge within you, Michael el-Hakim?”
His bright eyes seemed to pierce me through. How he came to speak of that incorruptible judge I could not understand, and his words filled me with such horror that I sank to my knees trembling.
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” my lips murmured. But my heart was silent.
Giulia swept into the room, having just returned from the Seraglio. She drew the thin veil from her face, revealing cheeks glowing with excitement and eyes lit with secret triumph.
“Oh, Mustafa ben-Nakir!” she exclaimed. “How fortunate that you’re still here. What will you give me for bringing you good tidings?”
“Torment me not, merciless Giulia, but tell me at once what you have to say. My heart is a leaf in the wind and my hands are ice.”
Giulia tittered and said, “A certain exalted person has heard of the poems you have carved in the bark of the plane trees in the janissaries’ courtyard, and those you sent with the merchants from Basra. She laughs at your poems, but is flattered by your attention, and it may be that she is curious to see your face once more. Tonight favors a meeting of which none need know. Perhaps she will allow you to read your poems to her, for it’s said that during the nights of Ramadan women are full of whims. Hasten to the baths, Mustafa ben-Nakir, and let the attendants rub you with fragrant oils. At sunset, immediately after the hour of prayer, the forbidden door will open to you, and who knows what a night in Ramadan may hold in store?”
“Don’t believe her!” I cried, deeply agitated. “This is nothing but a plot to get you out of the way. Fly to the monastery of your brotherhood, where none will dare to raise a hand against you.”
Giulia stamped and her eyes shot lightnings of rage as she screamed, “Hold your tongue, Michael! You have nothing to say in this matter.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir said, “Though it should mean death, yet she is and must ever be the only woman in the world for me. Perhaps it is a plot, but when she has heard what I have to say she may change her mind. Ah, Michael! I should be mad not to take the opportunity so freely offered. An hour or so ago I was ready to overturn the Empire-nay, the world-only to touch her. If I must die I will do so gladly, once I have dispelled the illusion that the unattainable is worth striving for.”
When I went down to the landing stage with Mustafa ben-Nakir I saw to my surprise two blue-clad janissaries, who came in through the gate and began to follow me. Then as I looked about me I beheld armed janissaries on guard at every entrance, in the garden, and down on the marble quay. By this I saw that Khurrem meant to leave nothing to chance. I lingered to watch Giulia glide away in my beautifully carved boat, Alberto standing beside her with folded arms and a sneer on his dark face. A cold hand seemed to clutch at my heart, and as I stood staring at the hazy roofs of the Seraglio across the water the onbash of the janissaries came up to me and bowed respectfully. The crossed ladles on his white felt cap glinted in the sun. Touching brow and ground with his finger tips he said, “I have been ordered by the Aga to accompany you everywhere and protect you against all evil. I am to answer for your safety with my head; therefore, do not be angered by my constant attendance. For this service the ambassadors of unbelievers pay three aspers a day to the janissaries and six to me-but such things vary with means and position and I have no doubt that you are greatly superior to the ambassadors of unbelievers.”
With a hopeful smile he twisted the ends of his long mustaches and looked admiringly at my turban, my earrings, and the buttons of my kaftan. There was nothing for it but to call down blessings on him and his men and to hand him a purse filled with aspers.
Few days in my life have seemed so long and heavy as that brilliant Ides of March, but after an eternity I watched the sun sink toward the Seraglio and tinge the billows of the Bosphorus with red. I sought out Abu el- Kasim’s deaf-mute under the boatmen’s shed on the shore, explained to him by signs what I wanted, and bade him betake himself as usual to the janissaries’ courtyard by the Gateway of Peace.
I slept not a wink all that night, and at dawn I ordered the sentries to wake the sleeping janissaries, with whom Andy and I then made the journey to the Seraglio. At the Gateway of Peace I found my faithful deaf-mute keeping watch. At my coming he stepped forward and told me with eager signs that the Grand Vizier had come to the Seraglio the evening before, dismissed his followers, and passed through the Gateway of Peace. He had not returned. A further gesture told me that my lord and friend was no more, and regardless of rank and dignity I sat down upon the ground to await the moment when the body of the murdered man would be thrown out into the courtyard. My attendant janissaries sat down also at a respectful distance. In the slowly growing light I saw the shrewd eyes of the onbash fixed upon me, but he asked no questions, knowing that our least actions are written in Allah’s great book long before our birth. Foolish curiosity was thus inconsistent with human dignity and self- respect.
The morning star faded, the cocks in the Seraglio forecourt began to crow, and soon the distant voice of the muezzin from the minaret of the great mosque reminded us that prayer is better than sleep. The onbash roused the
