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Authors: Rovena Cumani,Thomas Hauge

Tags: #romance, #drama, #historical

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BOOK: The Lake of Sorrows
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Karayannis very carefully did not offer any answer.

She kept her tone conversational. “You would not happen to know, doctor, where his ring is?”

“His ring, my lady?”

“Do not be a fool, doctor. All of Yannina knows of the ring I gave him. Where is it? It was not on his finger when they brought him back. I did not want to ask. I have been laughed at far too often. But now I have heard my husband utter one name throughout the day.
My
husband - but not my name.
Where is his ring?

The doctor shifted uneasily on the stool. “After a battle, my lady, the fallen are plundered. Even Beys. The Souliotes must have — “

“Must they? Because if they have not, the ring may have been stolen by someone else? Or given to someone else. Someone who also stole his heart, perhaps?”

“I … how would I know, my lady? I am not your husband’s personal physician. I have never been close to him.”

“You
are
playing the fool, doctor. And you are doing poorly. And you are the personal physician of that Greek whore my husband is smitten with.”

“I take care of her body, not her jewels, my lady!”

“And what a body that is, it is said. Once my husband had tasted it, he was worse than an opium addict. He needed more. Nothing else would satisfy him. She knows how to use her gifts, the little Vassiliou lady.”

A strange, half-strangled cross between a snarl and a wail tore out of Karayannis. “Do not speak of her like that!”

“Have a care, doctor! My husband needs you, but eventually he will heal - or not. Either way, the need for you will be gone. And with it, your safety.”

Thin-voiced, sweating, the doctor drew a deep, quaking breath. “The safety of the lady whom you call whore is more to me than my own safety could ever be. But I have not seen your husband’s ring on her finger, that is God’s truth.”

She laughed at him, without a trace of mirth. “Ahh. Another puppy licking the feet of the lady whose name my husband keeps blabbering. No, do not deny it. This is far more than a gentleman being honorable, or a Greek being protective of his women. So you have not seen the ring on her finger? And it is inconceivable that she would keep on her person in a less obtrusive manner, is it? Are you trying to play
me
for a fool, just because I am a woman?”

She leaned so close to him that their noses almost touched. “You would welcome it, would you not, if I had you beheaded and my husband died because you and your skill were no longer here? Then your little harlot would not be his, at least. You would buy that with your head. Oh, do spare me your denials, doctor. Do you think I cannot recognize jealousy when I see it? When I see it in all its infinite shades every time I look in my mirror.”

Cheeks burning scarlet, Karayannis looked away. “There are … some things a doctor cannot cure, my lady.”

“Only soothe them with the opium I smell all over you, doctor? You are right, though - death is the only cure for our malady. The only question is
whose
death.”

XCIX

T
he emerald snake, coiled in the pale beams of moonlight falling through the windows, seemed almost alive. Froshenie, mesmerized by the ring, did not know how long she had been sitting curled up in the deep leather chair in her husband’s library. Chryssie had joined her a half-dozen times, offering light, food, drink, scolding her for being out of bed in nothing but a flimsy robe, telling her to bloody well get back
into
bed. Each time, the Vaya had felt less real to her mistress than a ghost and had left again. Finally, she had given up.

Froshenie had lost all track of time since then.


His
ring, Froshenie?”

She did not even flinch. “Yes, Dimitros.” She had not heard him return home from the city, or enter the room. She did not look at him.

“Like the crucifix?”

She could not answer this time.

“You never were the most devoted of Christians. But perhaps you had not yet told him that?”

Staring in horror at the blackened blood on his fingers, she did not resist when he gently took the ring from her hand.

Slowly, he moved to the window and held the ring up to the light. “A gift from his wife, or so it is said. Did you know that, Froshenie?”

“Yes. Everyone knows. That is why he gave it to me.”

“To spite her? Or everyone?”

“For everyone to know I was under his protection, if I was in danger.”

“I … see.” He walked over and stood in front of her. “A noble man in his own way, then, is he?”

“In his own way. As are you. In
your
own way.”

He leaned close to her, letting the ring fall back into her lap. He was as disheveled as doctor Karayannis had been. He smelt of wine.

“And you love
him
for being a noble man in his own way, Froshenie?”

“I thought I loved you, Dimitros. Then I
tried
to love you. God knows I tried. God knows you deserve it. But I failed.”

Dimitros glanced at the portrait on the wall. “I have to leave, Froshenie.”

“So soon? You said — “


I know what I said, woman!

She recoiled from his rage like a frightened animal, jumping from the chair. The ring clattered across the heavy oak floorboards.

Back against the wall, she faced him, shaking. He had not followed.

Leaning heavily against his desk, all rage gone, he whispered into the darkness. “I thought there was still hope.
Wanted
to think there was still hope. God, how I wanted to think that!” He bent down and picked up the ring, turning it over so that the snake was hissing silently up at him. “They say that this woman, Pashou, would be a worse beast than the Pasha if she were a man. She will laugh at me.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I promised I would stay. I cannot keep that promise.” He glanced again at the portrait, then looked earnestly at her, a small, sad smile on his lips. “I am leaving. I will join the
Filiki Eteria
openly. With my ships and my wealth - or at least that part of it which our dear Pasha cannot confiscate when he hears of it.”

“You? A rebel?”

“Yes. Me, a rebel. I will not do it before we know what will become of your … beloved. Before I know you are safe. The Patriarch will see to it that our children are safe. Our house is yours until then, you will not see me again. If the Bey lives, go share your life with him.” He held out the ring and she took it gingerly. “If he is as much of a fool in love as I am, he will find a way. His father needs him.”

“And if he … ” She struggled to get the word out. “If he dies?”

“Then you go to live wherever you wish in this world. I will see to it that you will never want for anything. But, either way, I join the rebels.”

“You cannot!”

He laughed almost apologetically. “Oh, but I can. I am not a man with a hero inside and I will most likely evoke laughter with a musket in my hands. But take a musket in my hands I will, and I do not have the vanity to be a saint, either. If ever the Friends take Yannina and if Muhtar Bey is still here by then, he dies. Or I do.”

“Dimitros! How can you even — “

“Say such things and not laugh at myself? I went on a tavern-crawl this night, Froshenie. The son of the fearsome old Vassiliou. But I never was much good at holding my drink, and they took pity on me, and refused to serve me any more wine. So all I could do was walk the streets and ask the moon: ‘Is this how I am going to spend the rest of my life? An insincere merchant, a furtive rebel, a pitiful husband - and an inept drunkard?’ I felt as though a marvelous opera was being performed somewhere just around the next corner, but one which I could not attend, not having the courage to do so.”

He swept her into his arms and kissed her desperately, crushing her against his chest. Then he pushed her away - or himself away - and marched out of the room.

C

P
ashou smelled the fragrance of her own perfume, thick and over-sweet, and knew she was sweating profusely. The sweat of fear. She was standing in front of Eminee, in the modest, dark chambers of the Pasha’s first wife. Captain Tahir had summoned her here, offering no explanation, and had left again the moment he had announced her arrival to Eminee.

Eminee sat motionless on her unassuming divan, her eyes in deep shadow. Beside her was an equally unpretentious table, almost hidden in shadow, too - and on the table-top a small box and a rolled-up, sealed letter.

Pashou could not force her eyes off the letter. “Why did you summon me here? I should be by my husband’s side!”

“As I should be by my son’s side? But since both are the same man, we would be arguing over his suffering body and he needs peace and rest if he is to heal.”

“Argue?”

“Yes, I believe that what I have to say will cause a few sharp words between us. But nevertheless, let us try to be civilized.” Eminee picked up the small box from the table, opened it and held it out to Pashou. It was a delicate, silver-filigree box.

“Have a sweet. They are exquisite. The finest orange sweets from Constantinople. Flavored with rose water and vanilla.”

Pashou recoiled from the box as if a snake had risen out of it.

Eminee snapped it shut. “So it is true, then.”

“It … what is true?” Pashou swallowed. “How did you … ?”

“Intercept your little death-in-a-box? Come now, you are usually quite quick-witted.”

“Anesso? But she could not — “

“No, the poor woman could not have understood you were using her as an assassin. Was that really the best you could think of? You are not nearly as skilled in the ways of harem women that I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come now. Inside our family, everyone would know what had happened, but you made sure it could be plausibly denied with everyone else. A disturbed woman, a former peddler of just such goods — baubles, boxes, sweets. ‘Poor woman, her mind went astray. Must have given an old customer some of her more secret wares by mistake.’ I grant you it might have worked, too. Except for the same reason that you tried it.”

“You speak in riddles!”

“You heard your husband, my son, utter the name of this Vassiliou woman once too often. Alhi will not grant you her death. Yet. He might, if Muhtar dies. But you could not wait for that, could you?”

Pashou’s blazing gaze was an eloquent answer.

“But, my dear daughter-in-law, I heard him whisper that name, too. Long before he was wounded, for he whispered it when awake, too, when he thought noone was listening. And that convinced me more than anything that I could never talk Muhtar out of his obsession with her. But perhaps I could talk to
her.
I tried asking Karayannis about her, but he was reluctant to talk about her, for reasons of his own.”

“He, too, loves that whore!”

“I have not been the mistress of a harem for decades without being able to divine the obvious, Pashou!”

“And you accept it? You condone it? That your son, my husband, is bewitched by a Christian woman, a
Greek
?”

“I want my son to live.”

“And what about me? The humiliations your son has subjected me to?”

“They are real, I admit. My son should be castigated severely. But first things first. You can only castigate the living. But we digress. As I was saying, Karayannis was no help to me — so I went to see this Greek fairytale lady myself.”


What?

“I went to see her. Incognito, of course, but several times, actually. Not that such precautions were necessary. She is all alone in that opulent Vassiliou house, save for a feisty old nurse and a cowardly cook. It was awkward at first, talking to her. But she loves Muhtar, that much was clear to me almost instantly. And then Anesso arrived, she and her little box.
Your
little box.”

Pashou could not stop herself. “Did she — “

“Eat her sweets? No. When we understood from Anesso’s prattle who sent the gift, I knew what might be behind your sudden kindness. The cook brought us a hen. It ate one of the sweets eagerly enough. And dropped dead on the spot. I was not surprised, I have seen such games played often enough in the harem. But the lady Froshenie was shocked, despite having heard of you. That woman is remarkably unsuited to living in the real world.”

“So that is why Anesso did not return?”

“Well, you did our little peddler a favor, really. She was shocked, too, and the shock actually seemed to un-cloud her mind. She went to stay with some tavern-keeper in Yannina, with my blessing.”

“She was
my
servant.”

“Companion. And given by me. I simply took her away from you again. She turned out to be useless to me as a spy because her mind was gone. Now that it has returned, she will be useless as an assassin to you, my dear daughter-in-law.”

Pashou’s hatred broke. “So you think you can protect that filthy Greek slut from me? There will be no place in Yannina where
she
can hide!”

Eminee did not blink. “She will not hide. On the contrary, she will come to see Muhtar - or be seen by him - here in the palace, as soon as captain Tahir returns with her. She may be the key to restoring my son’s will to live, so she is now under my protection. If any harm comes to her before Muhtar’s health is restored, it will not be harm ordered or orchestrated by you, do you understand?”

“So you brought me here just to gloat?” Pashou spun on her heel and stomped towards the door.

“No. I brought you here because I need you.”


You
need
me?
” Pashou stopped as if she had walked into a wall, gaping, wrath momentarily forgotten. “What on earth for?”

“For being the only person whose head my husband will
not
take when that person brings him the news you must bring him. He needs you - or your father’s alliance - more than ever now.”

“News? What news? And why can
you
not take them to him? You are the last person in the world he would harm.”

“True. Because he knows I love him beyond any reserve. Some say beyond any reason. But they are wrong. It is just that they do not know the Alhi I love. The man of so much kindness.”

BOOK: The Lake of Sorrows
3.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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