The Lake of Sorrows (4 page)

Muhtar dared to disagree. “Yannina is famous for its wine and splendid women, too.”

His father roared with merriment. “Always the women with you, eh? I fear you will be quite busy with those here.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “But be careful and never forget your father’s advice. Never yield an inch of ground to your official wife, Pashou. She is too fond of exercising her extreme jealousy.”

“My wife? But father, I am not married.”

“Betrothed. The lady Pashou is no longer a child, and I need the alliance with her father more than ever now. You will marry next time we need to put on a spectacle to impress this city. Mind you, I need her father’s support and alliance, but not his domination. You should enjoy the good life, being my son, but do not let her beauty - and the pleasures she is undoubtedly able to give you - become your shackles. Make sure you ride enough women before your marriage to learn how to keep your wits about you.”

Cherry-red in the face despite himself, Muhtar muttered something unintelligible.

“You have already started, I see. Very good. She will try to throw you in silken shackles, but throw those shackles off again. Knowing her father, he will probably let his harem girls train his little Pashou to become more intoxicating than hashish or opium. Do not be ensnared, my son. I love you, but I would not allow even you to become a danger to our family. I would not allow
anyone
to become a danger to our family.”

Muhtar stood stiffly at attention, like a Janissary before his commander. “I hear your warning, father and the devotion that prompted it. But remember your own saying: ‘Fate is deaf.’”

“Ooh, the cub is lecturing the lion, is he? That is indeed what Tepeleni goatherds say, but I am no longer one and you never were. We are rulers of the realm now, my son, and rulers
make fate listen!
”

F
or a decade, Alhi Pasha, Lion of Hyperus, Beast of the Balkans, ruled in Yannina. His son fought his wars, his wife ran his harem, and his household, too, and his enemies cowered - those that were not sleeping forever at the bottom of his lake. Even his sister had the occasional night of all but undisturbed sleep.

And Alhi became so very, very bored.

In his boredom, weakness or not, Alhi still enjoyed luxury, furs and jewels with all the ill-bred appetite of a former goatherds’ chieftain. He could never have enough treasures, not because he enjoyed
having
them, but because he enjoyed
taking
them. So one day when Levandinos, a famed Venetian-based merchant of precious stones, came to Yannina, he wisely brought his treasures to Alhi first. He had been told that noone would buy anything from a merchant unless the Pasha had first been able to choose what
he
would buy. Noone wanted to possess something that the Pasha wished for himself.

Alhi examined some pearls more like tribesman marauder than a Pasha. “They are exquisite. So exquisite indeed that I would not feel a bit like offering them as a gift to anyone.”

“To your highness’ women?” The merchant sensed a profitable sale. “How many wives do you have, honorable Pasha?”

“One.” Alhi’s voice was suddenly colder than a winter storm. “Eminee.”

The merchant trembled, thinking he might have offended the Pasha. “I was under the impression you had many. I am mortified.” Alhi looked at the man, silent for a moment, as drops of sweat appeared on the merchant’s forehead.

“You are thinking of my harem. But those are not wives. They are just baubles, like your precious stones. Common knowledge says that the bigger the harem, the grander the ruler. And sometimes even a Pasha must bow to the knowledge of commoners.” Alhi was smiling again, but the merchant did not feel any more at ease.

“I understand, your highness.”

“No, you do not. I trust only one woman in this world. Eminee. The mother of my sons. Pleasure is mine for the wishing, but she is the only one that truly loves me. All the rest, they are capable even of poisoning me, if only they could and thought that would win them a higher place in another tyrant’s harem. It is a hornet’s nest in there.” Alhi cast a dark and gloomy glance in the direction of harem wing of the palace. “I like your beads.”

Wrong-footed by the sudden change of subject, the merchant momentarily forgot his manners. “Beads? They are pearls. True pearls! From Spain.”

“Do not agitate yourself. I spoke in jest. I see them and I understand. I am not stupid.”

“That I would never imply, my honorable Pasha,” The merchant was speaking so hurriedly that the words tripped over one another. Sweat reappeared on his forehead.

The Pasha smiled at him, like a hungry predator that has found its dinner and sees that the dinner knows it.

There was a long, terrible silence, for Alhi seemed lost in thought and the merchant in prayer.

“I will buy your pretty baubles, merchant. But you will stay here in Yannina and stop traveling around. Your assistants will bring us more pearls to choose from. Just for me. Why are you looking at me like a rabbit? I need the best to make a worry-beads chainlet. My wife says that if you put expensive stones on one, it becomes a talisman against the evil eye and all enemies. Nonsense, of course, to an enlightened man, but I like to humor her. Is that too much to ask for? You should know there are plenty of those who wish me dead.”

“Every man has his enemies.” The merchant gulped. “Yet I doubt your own people would wish your death, my exalted Pasha.”

Alhi gazed deep into the merchant’s eyes. “There is not a single day they do not wish me dead. It could be no other way. Do you know how many men I have cut down? Hanged? Put to the stake? Only the men? Thousands! And that is not counting the ones I had to order tortured.”

He changed the subject abruptly again. “How much do you want for your pearls?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all my Pasha. I offer them to you as a gift. And I will fetch you more. I want nothing more than your highness’ favor.” The merchant bowed again and again, his voice reedy and his eyes filling with tears.

“I
have learned a new way to trade for jewels, one I think I shall enjoy often.”

Alhi settled back on his divan, letting out a slight groan.

Eminee, who was spending a rare evening alone with her husband in his private quarters, looked up from the worry-beads chainlet she was making. “Shall I have the servants fetch some more pillows.”

“Peace, woman. It is just a touch of soreness after today’s hunt.”

“Or the many nights spent on the slopes of the Kelcyre mountains?” She caught the flash of pricked pride almost before he felt it himself, and hastened to add a touch of honey. “While your enemies slept well and late and lost the morning’s battle because you surprised them.”

He shifted again, then sighed contentedly, puffing his richly decorated
chibouki
pipe. “I was the first to see our prey, and the one who eventually brought it down. It is just that silly, gaudy saddle I have to use, because everything about a Pasha has to be so damned … impressive. I never had any pains from riding with my father’s old saddle, you know.”

“You might get a few raised eyebrows if you used it now, my mighty Pasha husband.” Eminee chuckled with proper deference and returned her attention to the chainlet. For a time, Alhi watched her in silence. Two births past the elegance and allure of the woman he had married, and her black hair streaked with as much grey as his beard, the lady Eminee might no longer be a ravishing beauty - but whenever he looked at her hawk-like face, he would still feel as much at peace as a man like him was capable of feeling.

He sighed again, reaching for small table beside him, laden with fresh fruit and sweet
halva
confections. “The tortures one must suffer for greatness!” He picked a butternut confection studded with pistachios and popped it into his mouth. “But at least I learned another way of hunting yesterday. And one does not even need a horse.”

“Yes, I heard about your bartering with the Venetian merchant.”

“He is no Venetian, my love, he is a man of Yannina. He just trades out of Venice instead of out of here. A kind of insult, really. To Yannina, and to me.”

Eminee weighed her words carefully. “He is not the only one, my love.”

“All the more reason to make an example of one of them. The Vassiliou house still trades out of Yannina.”

“For now, yes. But it is said that the old Vassiliou spent most of his younger life at sea or in Italy. And his son has been doing the same ever since he inherited the business. He may yet move to Venice, too. If he goes, who will stay?”

“Exactly, my dear wife. They need to be brought to heel, before they ruin my city.” Alhi was flicking the
chibouki’s
long stem as if it were a riding-whip. “My little game with that Levandinos fellow was not just an idle pleasure. I wanted to teach him a lesson, and got one for myself thrown into the bargain.” Alhi chuckled, reliving his victory. “A word or two about hanged men, about tortures, and then ‘All I want is your grace’s favor’. And the coward ran away like a rabbit, but he will come back like a well-beaten dog.”

“I wonder how you can live like that.” Eminee took care to speak casually, keeping her eyes on her handiwork.

“You speak as if it was something to be endured and not savored.” He picked another
halva
, this time one with almonds.

“Without love? Breaking men to make them grovel. Never winning a heart to make it give? Instead of just tearing it out when it pleases you.”

Alhi considered this, until he was done chewing his confection. “Loving someone is laying your heart bare to that someone and invite a dagger’s thrust.” He smiled, and carefully overlooked the disappointment in her eyes.

Eminee held up the chainlet, inspecting her creation. “Some people do not always approach with a dagger at the ready, my husband.”

“Then they are holding it behind their backs, my love.” Suddenly as playful as a youth, he abandoned his pipe, jumped up and snapped the chainlet from her hand. “Only
you
do not, and that is why I lay my heart bare to you alone, is it not?”

“Do you, my husband. Do you really?”

Uncomfortable at her suddenly intense stare, he turned away for a moment, holding up the beads to the light. “Of course I do. You hold in your hands the heart of the Lion of Hyperus, my lady. Many a woman would envy you. Many a man, too, although the first thing he would do would be to squeeze all life out of it.”

“And that is why you greet all men with threats?”

“Not always threats,
Güzelim
. Sometimes, I make promises. Sometimes vows. I even honor my promises and vows from time to time. It depends on the occasion.”

“You believe in nothing, Alhi, no religion. So how can you vow? On what?” Eminee smiled, to soften her words. Alhi had hanged men for less insolence than this.

But he merely laughed out loud at her innocence. “No religion? You wrong me cruelly, Eminee! I have more religions than any other man. I am a devout Muslim with Ottomans. A passionate follower of the carpenter’s son with the Christians. As orthodox a jew as any circumcised man when I am with the Jewish.”

“That is what I meant.” Eminee threw caution to the winds. “A man of all faiths is a man of no faith.”

“You are wrong,
Güzelim.
I do believe in something. I believe in good fortune. And that is my only true religion.”

Alhi was twirling the worry-beads between his fingers, chuckling. “These worry-beads Eminee, made by your own loving hands, would be thought a wonderful talisman to a Tepeleni, and I thank you for making them for me. But my true talisman is
you.
Oh, no, do not argue.
That
is what I believe in! Ever since you became my wife, fortune has favored me, and you have shown me my true self, even when others have been at their boot-licking pains to hide it from me.” He laughed again, a roaring, boisterous laugh. “If I ever lost you, then I would know that fortune’s emissary was no longer with me. And then I should be lost.”

And Eminee did not argue any further, for she believed that he was, for once, speaking the truth.

A
lhi’s harem danced and sang for his pleasure, they played the mandolin to help him sleep, and spent their days in readiness to spend the night in his bed, if summoned to do so. But they were many and he was one, so their life was a dull, boring life full of petty plots or conspiracies, gossip and vanity. Most of them had acquiesced in their fate and way of life, but there were always among them the ambitious ones. To them, the harem and their master’s bed were the battlefields on which they would chase their aspiration of bearing the Pasha a son. A son would make a harem girl a most favored wife, for sickness and misfortune could whisk away even the richest men’s sons without warning and a man knew no other safety in old age than plentiful and devoted sons.

If Eminee saw this risk, she never acknowledged it. Alhi’s ever-growing reputation brought an unceasing stream of woman to his harem, and she took them all in as if they were long-lost daughters returning home.

“A new girl has arrived from the Turkish regions,” she one day announced to Alhi.

“Summon her. Let us see what she looks like first.” Alhi was standing on the balcony of his vast bedchamber and had been thinking of anything but women.

Eminee ordered the harem eunuchs to bring the new girl in and remove her veil, so that Alhi could have a good look at her face.

He barely glanced at her, so Eminee had the eunuchs remove her clothes, too.

Alhi lent the girl’s budding beauty another glance. “What is your name?”

“Shouhrae.” The girl was whispering with no spirit in her voice, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands, until a stern gaze from Eminee made her come to terms with her fate.

“Speak up so that I can hear you!” Alhi found himself already annoyed with her lack of spark. “Who brought you here?”

“My name is Shouhrae.” The girl’s voice was slightly steadier now. “My mother showed me to Tahir, your captain of the guard. He was the one who brought me here, to the lady Eminee.”