The Wanderer (22 page)

Yet she was frightened enough next morning when long before dawn I rose, washed myself in the courtyard, and with my face to the cast recited the prescribed prayers. In further token of my valor I grasped a sturdy cudgel before staggering on trembling legs into the street. Only then did she see that I was in earnest; she rushed after me, seized my sleeve and cried, “Ah, Michael! Perhaps I’ve been unkind, and proud, but I had reasons that my modesty forbade me to mention. If by a miracle you return from the battle I’ll tell you my secret, and you shall decide how to act. But if we should meet only in heaven—and even that seems unlikely, since you’re a Moslem and I’m a Christian—the secret will have little importance. So I won’t cry it aloud in the street for all to hear; it would only distress you at such a moment as this.”

I believed she had no such secret and was merely trying to arouse my curiosity and so detain me until I was too late to take part in the attack. So I tore myself free and hurried down to the harbor. But Giulia was not the only woman to beg her man to stay at home that day, and with sighs and sobs assure him that an honest, profitable trade was greatly to be preferred to the joys of Paradise.

I reached the harbor at sunrise when Khaireddin, surrounded by his officers, was giving his final orders.

“Today is Friday, a lucky day. May it bring joy and profit to Islam. Today the hundred gates of Paradise stand wide open; never has there been a better opportunity to enter those glorious realms where dark- eyed virgins wait upon the faithful amid rippling water brooks. Gird on my sword, for I mean as usual to be in the forefront, and by example encourage even the fearful to follow me boldly through the breach.”

As if by order his officers began to exclaim and wring their hands, among the most animated being Sinan the Jew and Abu el-Kasim. They strongly opposed Khaireddin in his resolve to expose himself to danger, reminding him of the irreparable loss his death would mean to Islam. But he stamped with fury and cried, “O disobedient and unnatural children! Would you deny me this honor? Why should I alone be forced to abstain from Paradise, which now stands open to the poorest Moslem?”

He rushed back and forth shouting for his sword, and the captains had to catch and hold him by the arms lest he tumble headlong into the water. By this time the enthusiasm among the people knew no bounds; they shouted his name and praised his valor, exhorting him at the same time not to imperil his priceless life. At length he was compelled to resign himself, and said with a deep sigh, “Well, I will stay here among you, since you beg me so importunately. But I shall watch the assault, and will afterward reward the valiant and punish the cowardly. It remains only to choose a leader. No doubt you will race one another to the island, yet custom requires that one shall be chosen beforehand to lead the force into the breach.”

The officers at once fell silent and looked askance at the fortress that rose from the water a bowshot from land; their eyes rested with distaste on the gap in the wall, black as the mouth of hell. They turned pale and whispered among themselves, saying, “The offer is indeed tempting, but I’m unfit for such an honor. You’re older than I am and I resign in your favor.”

While they were yet busied with these affectations, Andy stepped forward and said, “My lord Khaireddin, let me lead the assault and bring you back the Castilian flag!”

I limped forward to protest, but before I could explain to our commander that Andy must be out of his mind, Khaireddin stretched out his hand toward me and shouted, “See, good people! Take these men as your pattern! It is but a little time since they found the true path, yet all the keener is their longing for Paradise. I cannot deny you the honor you beg of me, el-Hakim; go with your brother. You shall be the first to set foot on the rock of Penjon, and I shall know how to reward you.”

I tried to tell him that he had quite misunderstood me, but my terrified stammer was drowned in the acclamations of the officers.

Meanwhile Khaireddin’s fleet had sailed from its anchorage further along the coast, and now began a bombardment to distract the garrison’s attention from what was happening on land. Soon the shore batteries also opened fire, and the thoughtful Andy urged me to put on armor. I reflected for a little and then said, “Nothing happens save by the will of Allah. A good sword is enough for me. Go first, Andy my brother; I will follow at your heels and do my best to protect you in the rear.”

Mustafa ben-Nakir looked at me dubiously and said, “You’re right, Michael el-Hakim; if we were to fall overboard in full armor we should sink like stones. I shall take off my lion skin lest I lose it in the struggle, and be the third man of your party, trusting that your brother’s massive body will protect us from the worst unpleasantness.”

We then stepped aboard the leading raft and took cover behind gabions stuffed with earth and wool. A crowd of stouthearted men followed us, and the rowers dipped their oars and began pulling for dear life toward the fortress, loudly invoking Allah’s help and cursing the Spaniards.

All went well, and few shots greeted us from the scarred embrasures of the fortress. Should I ever be suspected of exaggeration or boast- fulness, let me say here and now that no better opportunity than the present ever occurred; nevertheless I shall confine myself to relating what really happened, and must therefore admit that the capture of Penjon cannot be numbered among the heroic deeds of history. On this occasion virtue was its own reward, and I won a reputation for valor and audacity without being exposed to any particular danger.

A few roundshot sang over our heads and threw up fountains of water as they fell into the sea astern. Shortly afterward our bows grounded on the shore with a jar that knocked me backward. Andy hauled me up by the scruff of the neck and dragged me ashore, with Mustafa ben-Nakir close behind, and we made a mad dash for the breach. I had little time for reflection, and when at last I looked up we were already halfway through the gap; before us in bright armor and with the Castilian flag wound about his left arm stood Captain de Varga, brandishing a sword and ready to give the last drop of his blood in defense of the stronghold. He stood alone, for his men, to their undying shame, had deserted him. Hunger and despair cannot excuse them, though for my own part I had no complaint to make of their prudent behavior.

Captain de Varga, then, stood before us alone, a haggard, swarthy figure. He glared at us with burning eyes, and there was froth at his lips. Andy, astonished, lowered his sword and called to him to surrender. But Captain de Varga laughed and shouted back, “I won’t rehearse my lineage to you, for a de Varga does not boast; but I’ll show you what is meant by loyalty to God, king, and country.”

In our rear more boats and rafts were being beached, and when the brave Moslems saw that one man alone was defending the breach they rushed up in a dense mob and swept me along with them, so that I lost my footing. I believe it was Andy who struck the sword from de Varga’s hand, and the next moment the Captain was lying on his back with me on top of him. Notwithstanding his noble lineage, notwithstanding the protection my body afforded him against the wild Moslems who lay over me in a kicking, struggling heap, he so far forgot himself as to sink his long teeth in my cheek.

De Varga would certainly have lost his life then and there if he had not been clad from head to foot in iron, for pain and fury so maddened me that I would have seized the first opportunity to drive my sword into his throat. But gradually the pressure lightened; the Captain let go of my cheek, and we both sat up to see the Moslems pour in a howling flood through the breach. Andy braced himself with feet apart in front of de Varga, and Mustafa ben-Nakir also helped us to defend him. Blood was streaming down my cheek and I bitterly reproached the Captain for conduct so unbecoming to a nobleman, pointing out that I should most probably carry a disfiguring scar to my life’s end.

Seeing that further resistance was useless he collapsed in tears and begged me to bear no malice. In return I asked him to surrender the Castilian flag, for which he could have no further use. Sighing deeply he unwound it from his arm and laid it in my hands. To me, therefore, fell the honor for the capture of Penjon.

Meanwhile the Moslems had been streaming past us through the breach in such numbers that the courtyard was soon crammed, and in their frenzy they slew a number of Spaniards before Khaireddin’s officers and janissaries could intervene. Khaireddin had given strict orders that as many Spaniards as possible should be spared, for he stood in great need of labor for demolition and building works, and for repairs to buildings damaged in the street fighting and bombardment. The savage bloodlust of the Mussulmans so revolted me that I longed to get away, and Andy too was fidgeting. We therefore resolved to embark and bring Captain de Varga before Khaireddin.

Khaireddin, attended by a numerous suite, was waiting on the shore. Many foolish Moslems had hastened up to him and thrown the heads of unbelievers at his feet. At last he lost his temper and shouted, “A hundred lashes to the next man who dares bring me a Christian head. Spaniards are sturdy fellows and every head leaves me the poorer.”

But he soon forgot his wrath when Andy, Mustafa ben-Nakir, and I approached him, thrusting Captain de Varga before us. Blood was still running from the wound in my cheek as I threw the Castilian standard at the feet of Khaireddin. He trod it eagerly underfoot, exclaiming piously, “Allah is great, and marvelous is the might of Islam, that transforms a lamb into a ravening lion.”

Turning to Captain de Varga he said curtly, “Wicked and obstinate man, where is your king and the help you were expecting from Spain? Will you confess now, idolater, that Allah alone is mighty?”

Captain de Varga answered, “You have only my men’s treachery to thank for victory. Given the smallest support I would have driven you from the city and occupied the harbor.”

Khaireddin surveyed him for a time, stroking his beard. He could not but admire the inflexible spirit of his enemy, and said, “Ah, Captain de Varga! Had I such men as you beside me, I could certainly drive the Emperor from his throne. Tell me what I can do for you, for I desire your friendship.”

Captain de Varga replied, “Brave men always understand one another, and that is something that cowards can never grasp.”

“There are many mussel shells in the world,” remarked Khaireddin, “but few contain pearls. Even rarer is a truly brave man. Therefore I’m willing to bestow riches on you and even place you in command, on one condition—that you take the turban and acknowledge that the one God and his Prophet are worth more than Christian idolatry. You’d not be the first Spaniard to take this step, as you may see for yourself by glancing at my officers.”

Captain de Varga was outraged, and stared at his adversary for some time; his beard quivered and his eyes glowed when at last he replied, “Were I false to my faith I should be worse than the worst of my betrayers. Do not insult me with such proposals, and remember that I am a Spaniard and a gentleman.”

Khaireddin sighed. “I have no wish to coerce you, for Islam forbids forcible conversion. But you’re too dangerous a man to let loose among the other prisoners, and I shall be unhappily compelled to behead you if you refuse the turban.”

Captain de Varga crossed himself meekly and said, “I’m a de Varga; may my ancestors never have cause to be ashamed of their kinsman. Strike quickly, then, that I may show myself worthy of my God, my king, and my country.”

He said a few prayers, crossed himself, and knelt down upon the sand. The executioner took off his head at one stroke, and expressed admiration for his noble behavior. He then threaded a leather thong through the ears and suspended the head from the bridle of Khaireddin’s horse.

Thus the siege of Penjon was accomplished, long before the muezzin had called the faithful to the noon prayer. For my own part I could not sufficiently thank my lucky star for protecting me from all danger and covering me with glory.

Later, when I started to walk home, Mustafa ben-Nakir came with me, absently twirling the bells of his girdle. The deaf-mute was preparing food when we arrived, while Giulia sat on the bed painting her toenails. She paid us little attention, from which I concluded that she had been down to the harbor to spy upon us and had seen me there unhurt in Khaireddin’s company.

“Oh, is it you, Michael?” she exclaimed in feigned surprise. “I hardly expected you so soon. And where can you have been, I wonder? While the faithful were waging their holy war you were no doubt dallying in some harem, for you appear to have been somewhat passionately kissed.”

Mustafa ben-Nakir said, “Delilah, I appreciate that with a veil you. couldn’t perform your present important task. But remember that I find the temptation of your eyes very hard to withstand. I beg you to leave us. My friend Michael and I have much to talk of; if you have a spark of pity in your cruel heart, don’t allow that mad slave to poison us with the garbage he’s preparing, but cook something for us with your own fair hands.”

So he flattered Giulia and at the same time taught me how one should speak to women when one wants something from them. When Giulia had put away her toilet box and left us, Mustafa ben-Nakir drew forth his Persian book and began to read aloud. But I was weary of his whimsical ways and busied myself with dressing the wound in my cheek. At last he laid aside his book and said, “You surprise me, Michael el-Hakim. I hardly know what to make of you. I wonder whether after all you’re a little simple? I can find no other explanation of your foolhardy behavior.”

“Perhaps like you, Mustafa, I allow myself to be ruled by impulse at times. Ask me no questions about today’s doings. Truth to tell I hardly know why I acted as I did, unless it was to show Giulia that I take no orders from her.”

Mustafa ben-Nakir nodded. “We’ll talk of Giulia later. You need not part with her: she shall go with you. Perhaps you know that for years Khaireddin has been out of favor with the High Porte. He and his brother are thought to have made illicit use of the ships and janissaries sent by the Sultan to Baba Aroush. There may be some truth in this, but since then Khaireddin has thought better of it. This summer he means to strengthen and consolidate his power; but in the autumn his ambassador is to sail for Istanbul with rich presents for the Sultan, to claim confirmation of Khaireddin’s appointment as beylerbey of Algeria. After this Khaireddin will again place himself under the protection of the High Porte. Besides gifts, the envoy will take many slaves to the Sultan, including yourself, Michael el-Hakim, your brother Antar, and your own slave, Delilah, whom you call Giulia.”