The Sultan's Eyes (23 page)

‘Without all of us and our clamour,’ I said.

‘I like your clamour,’ said Justinian. ‘I’ve spent too many quiet nights.’

‘I hate to think of you locked away all alone,’ said Valentina.

I caught her eye and she fell silent. I held my breath for a moment.

‘What the
signora
means is —’

But Justinian’s face told me that he understood exactly what Valentina meant.

‘So you know about … about me?’

‘Yes,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘Your father told me, ages ago.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Valentina. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I think I had better leave you now.’

She left behind an almost tangible silence. I could hear my own breath, Willem’s soft snores, and the sounds of Pera beyond the window. We both sighed and then spoke at once.

‘I promised I would never —’

‘You must understand —’

‘Please. You were saying?’

‘I didn’t want you to know,’ Justinian said. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There is nothing I can say to —’

‘Then don’t.’

‘But all those years —’

‘Are over. I don’t wish to talk about them.’

‘Of course, I understand, and so we won’t, ever,’ I said, and then added, ‘Unless you want to, and then I will listen. Without interrupting.’

‘That’s unlikely.’

I smiled. ‘At least, I will try.’

He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you.’

‘But I’m glad they told me,’ I said. ‘I was horrible to you, I know, when I first arrived.’

‘So that’s why you suddenly started being more polite?’ He chuckled. ‘I should have guessed.’

‘It certainly wasn’t my naturally charming demeanour.’

‘No.’ He smiled. ‘That much is certain.’

I was at the palace, a few weeks later, when the message came. We were in the coolest pavilion, with all the shutters flung open and a slave standing over each of us waving a fan. But the Sultan’s eyelids drooped, and as Ay
e read to her brother, her voice faltered and she smiled.

‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Your Latin is coming along beautifully.’

Suraiya shuffled in quietly and slipped a note into my hand.

‘Please forgive me, Your Majesty,’ I said. ‘It seems I have been called away.’

‘Go,’ said Ay
e. ‘Mehmed will sleep now.’

‘Sometimes I forget he’s still a child,’ I said.

‘So do we all.’

Willem stood waiting outside.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know, but they said for you to come at once.’

Willem waved farewell to Suraiya and we raced through the palace gates and into the carriage.

‘It’s not bad news?’

‘Apparently not,’ said Willem. ‘Just important. And for you only.’

‘What could it be?’

He shrugged and stared behind us at the palace walls.

‘Good day, Mistress Hawkins,’ said Justinian when I finally arrived at the Jonsons’ house.

Constantine, too, greeted me with a more formal bow than I usually warranted. ‘Please come in.’

There was an embarrassed pause while a footman took my veil. At least, I was embarrassed, with the two of them watching me.

‘I came as quickly as I could,’ I said. ‘But it does take a while to extricate yourself from the palace.’

‘Of course,’ said Constantine. ‘This way, please.’

He offered me his arm — something Justinian would never think to do.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘There’s something we’d like you to see,’ said Constantine. ‘Something that … well, it’s yours.’

He opened the door to a small parlour crammed with boxes and piles of books. They both turned to me, smiling.

‘Here you are,’ said Justinian.

‘Where am I, exactly?’ I asked. ‘What is all this?’

Then I realised. It felt as if the world stopped for a second, then slid sideways in time. I put out my hand, and Justinian placed in it first one book, and then another. A small red calfskin volume. Another, larger, in brown, its edges frayed with wear.

‘Father?’ I whispered it, but I was sure they both heard me.

I moved closer to the desk. There was a pile of letters in my own hand, addressed to my father’s friends, enemies, students, and some of the pamphlets, yellowed now with age, on which we had worked together all those years ago. Before the war. Before the shipwreck.

I looked again at the brown book in my hand. It was the first English edition of Father’s
Discourse on Liberty
, now banned in his own country and many others besides. I lifted it to my lips, kissed it softly, and sniffed the leather and the musty pages. The other book, I knew, was the astronomer Wilkins’s treatise on the moon, the same volume my father was reading on the day Cromwell’s troopers came to Cambridge.

Justinian turned his face away for just a moment.

‘All my father’s papers,’ I said at last, ‘and his books.’

‘Not all of them,’ said Justinian. ‘But as much as we could salvage from your old house.’

‘How did you ever manage it?’

‘It was Constantine,’ Justinian said. ‘Not me. I just sorted them out and made sure they were safe.’

I turned to his brother.

‘He begged me,’ said Constantine. ‘What could I do? So I made up an official-looking document, waved it in front of your nanny’s face, and commandeered the contents of your father’s office, including that trunk of documents you so cleverly hid in the garden bed.’

I laughed aloud. ‘I thought I was being so secretive. How did you find it?’

He shrugged. ‘I realised that, had I been in your position, I would have done just as you did — made sure that any of the more
radical letters and manuscripts were safely hidden. It took me a while, but I figured it out in the end, no thanks to Nanny, who was relentless in trying to stop me.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘I can imagine.’

‘Believe me,’ said Constantine, ‘I’ve fought in many battles, and your nanny was by far the most fearsome opponent I ever faced.’

My eyes filled with sudden, stinging tears. ‘She was just trying to —’

‘To preserve your father’s memory, of course,’ said Constantine. ‘I do understand. But I could hardly tell her that I was trying to do the same. I wasn’t sure I could trust her.’

‘Bless her.’

‘Then once we knew that you were here, and that you are staying here,’ said Justinian, ‘we arranged for them to be shipped over.’

‘I wish I knew how to thank you,’ I said.

‘It wasn’t a noble gesture on your behalf, Mistress Hawkins,’ Constantine said. ‘It seemed to me that any incriminating documents would harm Justinian’s case, so I did what anyone would do — for my brother, for my family.’

I knew how it felt, that fierce need to protect, to free, the people you love. Father. Master de Aquila. I wiped more tears away with the back of my hand.

‘You’d risk anything for each other, wouldn’t you?’

He and Justinian swapped glances and grinned.

‘Well,’ said Justinian. ‘Not quite anything.’

‘May I ask you a theoretical question?’ Willem said to Al-Qasim.

His leg jiggled in time with the horses’ hooves as the carriage jolted around a narrow corner and up the hill to the palace.

‘Of course, my friend,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘But will I need to consult any of my books?’

‘No, no,’ said Willem hurriedly. ‘It’s not that sort of question. It’s more about — I don’t know — human nature. About faith.’

‘I see. That sounds serious.’

Willem fell silent while he watched a woman on a high balcony throw a cloth over a washing line that stretched across the street. ‘I wondered how people of different faiths of the world might live together.’

Al-Qasim laughed. ‘I’m afraid that’s a rather large question, Willem, and one that could take weeks to answer. Were you thinking of all people or just certain people?’

‘Nothing specific.’

‘Then how can I answer you?’

Willem hesitated again. ‘What I mean is, if two people …’

‘Yes,’ prompted Al-Qasim. ‘Two people. A good example so far. But you might have to provide me with a bit more detail.’

‘Well, do you think people need to be of the same faith?’

‘Any particular two people?’

‘No, no,’ said Willem. ‘It’s hypothetical.’

‘Then, hypothetically — of course not,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘You and I are of different faiths, and we are friends, are we not?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Then maybe it’s a little too hypothetical a question for anyone to answer,’ I suggested.

‘Would you care to refine it?’ Al-Qasim smiled at Willem in a way that reminded me of my father, long ago, teasing out my ideas and helping me to formulate my arguments. ‘Is your question about two lovers? In that case, the answer is the same, although the law may take a different view. Here in the Ottoman Empire, for example, a Muslim man may take a non-Muslim wife, but it is forbidden for a Muslim woman to marry someone outside the faith. Is that what you mean?’

Willem didn’t seem to view Al-Qasim’s questioning in quite the same way as I did.

‘Why would I mean that?’ he said, his face suddenly flushed red.

‘I was merely —’

‘I’d never suggest such a thing!’

Al-Qasim looked amused.

‘Willem,’ I ventured, ‘what is it, then, that you’re asking?’

‘Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.’

‘Certainly, my friend,’ said Al-Qasim.

We had reached the palace gates, and Willem jumped down from the carriage, slammed the door behind him and headed off towards the kitchens.

‘What on earth was that all about?’ I asked.

‘He is troubled,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘But about what, I cannot say.’

‘Cannot? Or will not?’

He smiled. ‘Can any man truly say what is in another’s soul?’

I sighed. ‘All my life, I’ve been surrounded by men who answer questions with riddles.’

‘A heavy burden indeed.’

‘Now even Will has come over all mysterious.’

‘I’m sure he will tell you the truth, if you ask him.’

But I didn’t. I should have, I know, but instead I wanted to protect the fragile peace between us. If I had the power, I’d have cast a spell over us all that would keep us and our friendship safe. What a fool I was!

That peace was shattered early one morning by the clamour of ringing bells and cries in the street outside.

I rushed from my chamber and peeped over the balcony. Mirza stood in the entrance hall, a sword in his hand. Al-Qasim was beside him, dagger at the ready.

‘What is it?’ Valentina appeared beside me. ‘What has happened?’

‘An alarm of some kind,’ said Mirza. ‘It started over at the palace and now it has come here.’

The sounds of horses and shouting soldiers echoed through the streets.

‘An attack?’ I asked.

Al-Qasim shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I heard them calling for patrols. For the city guards.’

Then came that noise I most feared: someone thumping, hard, on the door.

‘I will go,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘You two wait upstairs.’

Valentina and I didn’t argue. We took a few steps back so we were hidden from the view of whoever was at the door.

‘Open up! Quickly, I beg you.’

‘It’s all right,’ I shouted. ‘It’s the Admiral.’

By the time Valentina and I found our wraps and scurried downstairs, Mirza had led the Admiral, his sons and several men from the embassy into our reception room and lit the lamps. They were all armed with swords and pistols.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘The palace is in an uproar,’ said Constantine. ‘So is the city.’

‘But why?’

‘The slave girl, Suraiya,’ said the Admiral. ‘You know her?’

‘She attends me,’ I said. ‘But what has happened to her?’

‘She’s run off,’ said the Admiral. ‘It seems that your friend Willem helped her to escape.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The Dutch boy,’ said Constantine. ‘He was seen fleeing with the girl just outside the palace walls.’

‘What?’ We all shouted it at once.

‘Thankfully, he doesn’t come under my jurisdiction,’ said the Admiral. ‘But you, Isabella, may find yourself in all sorts of trouble as a result. I am here to safeguard your rights should you be arrested.’

‘Arrested?’ I felt as if the world was spinning in circles. ‘Will someone please tell me exactly what’s happened?’

Justinian laid a hand on my arm. ‘We don’t know much more than that, I’m afraid, Isabella,’ he said. ‘It would seem that Willem has involved himself in some kind of palace intrigue, or taken it into his head to free the slave woman from captivity.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ I said.

‘I’m afraid it’s all quite true,’ said Justinian.

‘But why?’ I said.

‘That boy!’ Valentina stamped a foot. ‘What was he thinking?’

‘He wasn’t, obviously,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘It is more a matter of the heart.’

‘The … what?’

‘Surely you’ve noticed?’

Valentina swapped a glance with Al-Qasim.

‘But I thought …’ Justinian stepped back. ‘I assumed … Willem … Isabella …’

‘Perhaps once,’ said Valentina. ‘But it seems Suraiya has stolen Willem’s heart.’

Suraiya. Of course.

‘Has he really said nothing of it?’ Al-Qasim asked me.

‘Not to me, no.’

‘And you never asked him?’

I shook my head, trying to understand. Some part of me kept insisting all these words couldn’t be true.

‘I, on the contrary, have found myself enmeshed in many strange conversations that now make perfect sense to me,’ said Valentina.

‘So have I,’ I said, ‘but I never imagined this …’

‘She’s very pretty,’ said Al-Qasim.

‘So what?’ Valentina said. ‘Isabella is pretty.’

‘Actually, I’m fairly average-looking for an Englishwoman,’ I said. ‘But Suraiya is truly beautiful. I had no idea that he … that they …’

‘If only I had realised,’ Valentina said.

‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said Al-Qasim.

‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘But I may strangle him all the same.’

Al-Qasim didn’t even smile. ‘First we have to find them.’

‘Before Colonel Orga does,’ said Justinian.

‘Where could they go?’ Constantine asked. ‘Think. Would they come back here to Pera? Or cross to the Asian shore, perhaps?’

‘Orga will search every boat, every ship due to sail this morning,’ said the Admiral.

‘He’d never leave without saying goodbye,’ I said. ‘Would he?’

Valentina sat down beside me. ‘I wouldn’t have imagined it. But desperation leads people to do unexpected things.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Not Will. Not him.’

‘Isabella’s right,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘They must still be somewhere in the city.’

‘In that case,’ I said, ‘there’s only one place he’d go.’

By the time we reached the workshop, the port was in chaos. Janissaries with flaming torches stood in long lines guarding the quay, while others searched boats and pushed their way into fishermen’s huts.

Al-Qasim and I peered around the corner of a building, waiting for a patrol to pass. I clutched the dagger hidden under my cloak, wondering if I might soon need to use it.

‘Why all this outcry over a slave girl?’ I whispered.

‘The janissaries don’t want the other slaves to think it’s easy to escape from the palace.’

‘It’s something more than that,’ I said. ‘It must be.’

‘Perhaps it’s the idea of a foreigner eloping with one of the women?’

‘If only I’d known,’ I said. ‘I might have —’

‘Stopped Willem?’ Al-Qasim smiled down at me. ‘Have you ever been able to prevent him from doing anything?’

We slipped into the workshop unseen. It was dark inside and as still as a cemetery.

‘Will?’ I hissed. ‘If you’re in here, come out right now.’

There was no reply, no movement.

There was a soft click as the door opened behind us. Justinian nodded to us silently.

‘I swear, if you don’t show yourselves …’ I said.

Slowly the shelf against the far wall slid sideways. First one hand and then another appeared, gripping the wood. Finally, Willem’s blond head peeped out.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be along sooner or later.’

I took two steps towards him before Al-Qasim grabbed my arm and held me back.

‘Softly now,’ he said.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Will, come here so I can murder you quietly.’

Willem stepped out from behind the shelf. He was dressed in his travelling clothes and boots, a dagger thrust into his belt.

‘There’s no need to be like that,’ he said.

‘Do you have any idea what’s going on out there?’ I said. ‘There are janissaries hunting everywhere for you.’

‘I know. I heard the alarms.’

‘What were you thinking?’

He stepped to one side. Suraiya appeared out of the darkness and Willem stretched out one hand to her. They stood there before us, holding hands.

‘So, my boy,’ said Al-Qasim, ‘you are a romantic, after all.’

‘He’s an idiot, that’s what he is.’ I strode across the room, grabbed Willem’s arm and dragged him into the corner. ‘Are you mad?’ I switched into his own language so that the others, especially Suraiya, wouldn’t understand what I was about to say.

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Is this some kind of trick to make me pay attention?’

‘No.’ Willem gazed steadily into my eyes. I blinked. ‘This is not a trick,’ he said. ‘It’s real. Quite real.’

‘I see.’ I felt my face redden as confusion flamed inside me. I turned away from him so he wouldn’t see it.

‘If I had tried something like that,’ he said, pulling me back towards him, ‘I’m not sure you would have even noticed.’

‘I never realised …’

‘But you’ve missed your chance.’

‘Will, please. You need to try to make a bit more sense.’

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I am in love with Suraiya. I want to marry her. Is that plain enough for you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

But it wasn’t really. My mind struggled with the fact of it, fumbling over memories and half-buried assumptions. We stood staring at one another for what seemed like an age. It was as if he opened up under my gaze, for the first time in months, so that I saw into his clear eyes, his heart, his certainty.

He smiled. ‘You see?’

‘What’s going on?’ said Justinian. ‘If you two are going to argue for hours, we’ll be off.’

‘There’s no need,’ said Willem. ‘Isabella has finished shouting at me for the moment. Haven’t you?’

‘Don’t be too sure,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’m saving the best for when the
signora
arrives.’

‘I think I’ll take my chances with the janissaries,’ said Willem.

‘This is not a joke!’ said Al-Qasim. ‘You have no idea what they can do — what they will do — to both of you, to all of us, if they find you.’

‘They can’t touch me, I’m a foreigner,’ said Willem. ‘They’ll bring all the power of the Low Countries down on them if they harm me or Suraiya. What can they do, really?’

‘Let me tell you,’ said Al-Qasim. His voice shook. ‘I have seen a hundred women flung from the palace cliff-top. I’ve seen a slave beheaded because the Sultan didn’t like the colour of her hair. I have …’ He squeezed his eyes closed as if to shut out the memory. ‘I have watched Colonel Orga cut a baby from his mother’s womb while she screamed.’

‘God have mercy,’ Justinian whispered.

‘Now do you understand?’ said Al-Qasim. ‘That is what they can do. That is what Orga will do to you and to her and to anyone who is caught helping you.’

Willem looked as if he had been punched in the belly. He slumped down onto the bench and covered his face with his hands.

‘Unless we kill you first,’ said a familiar voice behind us.

We spun around. There, holding a lantern high, was Paul. With him were three men I’d never seen before in my life. But beside them, unmistakable in his monk’s robes, was Brother Andreas.