The Wanderer (43 page)

Andy said, “No, no. But I have little head for figures, so you must round off the sum to nine thousand three hundred ducats, and I will gladly acknowledge the receipt of ten thousand ducats for a year’s lease of my sheep.”

With a sigh the Jew took sixteen aspers from the table and replaced them with two worn gold ducats which I perceived at once to be underweight. The coins on the table were all newly-minted and whole, however, and so I willingly forgave him this slight deception.

Andy asked me to read the contract aloud to him, and we found it to be fully in accordance with what had been agreed, and though nothing was mentioned as to the care of the livestock, the Jew pointed out that it would be to his own interest to take good care of the farms, for he hoped that next year the contract might be renewed on slightly better terms for another five or ten years. Our eyes were by this time fully open to the excellent stroke of business Andy had unwittingly done in dragging that poor little wench from the gutters of Vienna and making her his wife.

But our dealings with the Jew were not yet over, for though I guessed that King Zapolya and Master Gritti would prefer ready money, the Grand Vizier at least must be offered something more personal, and for this no one could have given us better advice than the sagacious Jew. Such things as precious stones, ornaments, saddles, and damascened gold harnesses the Grand Vizier already had in abundance, so something entirely special must be found. At last Andy bought from the Jew a most marvelous clock of Niirnberg make, which struck both hours and quarters. It showed also the day, the month, and the year, and would thus be of great advantage to an absent-minded person, though unfortunately it was based on the Christian measurement of time. However, we guessed that because of his wars and other dealings with European countries the Grand Vizier might be glad to keep count of the Christian reckoning.

This clock was so complicated and so ingeniously built that I could not understand how a human brain could have devised it. The case was of beautiful workmanship, and the Jew contrived to set it going long enough for us to see how at each hour a little secret door flew open and a smith, followed by a priest and a knight in full armor, stepped forth to strike the hour on a little silver bell, and then disappeared through another door on the opposite side of the clock.

Its only fault was that it did not go, and the watchmaker to whom it had been sent for repair had been sold into slavery by the Turks. Nevertheless the Jew hoped he might yet be found, and we could then give him to the Grand Vizier with the clock, to regulate it and keep it going. Because the mechanism was for the present out of order the Jew sold us this treasure for only twelve hundred ducats, which Andy gladly paid, and we then took a cordial leave of this wealthy man.

When after a great deal of difficulty we were able to trace the clock- maker, Andy paid no less than sixty ducats for him, without bargaining, though there was little left of him but skin and beard. In his free-handedness he even gave the old fellow new clothes, and after a bellyful of food the man wept copious tears, tried to kiss Andy’s hands, and blessed him as his benefactor. He at once set to work on the clock, declaring that he knew its caprices, and even without the necessary instruments and parts was able to make it work well enough to convince the Grand Vizier of its surpassing excellence. He swore by the saints that once in Istanbul he would make this timepiece the marvel of the Seraglio and would devote the rest of his life to tending it. Thus it was that the clock secured him a carefree existence as the Grand Vizier’s slave.

We now ordered four strong slaves to carry it carefully to Ibrahim’s tent, where the clockmaker set it going; the Grand Vizier marveled greatly at it and thanked Andy for the princely gift. I fancy Andy rose notably in the Grand Vizier’s esteem, for as a further mark of favor Ibrahim sent him and his wife two magnificently caparisoned saddle horses and provided an escort of a hundred spahis to attend them to their estate.

Andy, having now done everything possible to secure his position, made ready to leave for the Transilvanian border. When I saw that in his black ingratitude he was forgetting me, his unmerited successes smarted within me and I said, “The frog puffed himself up until he burst. The money is yours; you can throw it down the jakes if you wish. But your coldness to me is very wounding, and I think you owe a morsel of consideration to one who is all but your own brother, and whom alone you have to thank for your prosperity.”

My words and my unfeigned tears brought Andy to a better frame of mind, and as icy winds chased the snow clouds over the towers of Buda, we seemed transported to our own land. We wept on one another’s breast; we swore that nothing in the world should sever our friendship and that we should be godfathers to one another’s children. When at last we parted Andy pressed upon me a thousand ducats, saying that even this sum was but slight acknowledgment of my long and faithful friendship.

We had by now reached the end of October. The Sultan ordered the camp to be struck and the janissaries with many forebodings began the long march home. Before we left Buda, the Grand Vizier summoned me and Father Julianus once more to a nocturnal discussion and said, “It may be that you’re right, Michael el-Hakim, and are more familiar with German religious questions than I am. King Zapolya’s secret representative at the court of Margrave Philip reports that the heretic prophets have met in Marburg, the capital of Hesse, but that after a couple of days’ debate they separated in open hostility without having reached a single agreement. It seems that Luther and Zwingli did nothing but accuse one another of error and arrogance. I therefore agree to your plan, Michael el-Hakim, and will send you to the German states to sow even more bitter dissension among the Protestants and so draw them nearer Islam.”

I was aghast at his words, and made haste to reply, “You have quite mistaken my meaning, noble Grand Vizier, for I’m no orator. No, no, it is Father Julianus who should be sent to Germany, for he is an experienced preacher who can smell out heresy afar off. He will choose the right man in every town for the work; he will sow the seeds of Islam in people’s minds so that in their enthusiasm for the new ideas they will forget all that Christendom holds in common and rally round separate articles of faith. One will preach the one God, another the sinfulness of idolatry, a third predestination, and a fourth polygamy as justified by Scripture. I believe that Father Julianus knows his Bible so well that within a few days he could find texts to support all these arguments.”

Father Julianus stared at me as if the ground had opened at his feet and the devil in all his hideousness had appeared.

“Get thee behind me, Satan!” he cried. “Would you make a heretic of me? Never will I consent to it; I will choose rather the glorious death of the martyrs.”

“But can you not see, Father Julianus,” I said, “that in sowing dissension among the heretics you do Holy Church the greatest possible service? I am persuaded that the Grand Vizier will furnish you with money enough to keep you well provided with wine and beer in the German lands—well enough even to invite others to share it with you. Should you be suspected of disseminating false doctrines, you have only to deny all you’ve said and blame your imperfect knowledge of the language for any errors there may have been. But if all goes well—you should need no more than a couple of years to complete the task—and if you send me details of all those, young or old, learned or simple, poor or rich who are in any way inclined to embrace and proclaim the new teaching, I am sure the Grand Vizier will so reward you as to enable you to spend the remainder of your days in peace and comfort before a never failing wine jar.”

Conflicting thoughts were mirrored on Father Julianus’s puffy face, and I could read there lingering fears for his immortal soul. Persuasively I went on, “Who knows but that the Grand Vizier might approach the Curia through a Venetian banking house, and buy you a bishopric in some retired corner of France or Italy? There you might enjoy a well-earned rest without molestation by inquisitive people.”

A warm gleam came into Father Julianus’s eye; he gazed dreamily into the distance, and at length exclaimed with a sob, “How devoutly I would serve in that exalted office, wretch and sinner that I am! Truly, Michael, from now on I will reform and do all I can to be worthy of the blessed task entrusted to me.”

Falling on his knees he kissed the Grand Vizier’s hand and watered it with his tears. I feared that Ibrahim would recoil from the expense of my plan, and I said quickly in Turkish, “Take no thought of the outlay, noble Grand Vizier, for Father Julianus will hardly get out of Germany alive to claim his bishopric. These new prophets are at least as fanatical in the defense of the purity of their faith as the Holy Office. Yet if by any miracle he should survive, it would be no bad

thing for you if a Christian bishop were to owe his position to Islam.”

Ibrahim nodded and said, “As you will, Michael el-Hakim. I trust you, and leave you a free hand with the details. If it fails,
tsaushes
will bring you the black kaftan and the silken noose, and will stay to see that you do not misinterpret the significance of the gift.”
 

Perhaps this reminder of my mortality was wholesome. At any rate I began to see that I was meddling very rashly with matters that in no way concerned me. Nevertheless the plan was adopted and the details arranged by which Father Julianus
could
transmit his reports secretly to Istanbul.
 

By degrees Buda was emptied of Turkish troops and Father Julianus set forth in good heart upon his return to Vienna, where he meant to preach about his miraculous rescue from the hands of the Turks. After that he would make for the German states. Having seen him safely off, I bought some war mementos and other presents for Giulia and then embarked on one of the transport vessels. This carried me down the Danube until I was able to join Sinan the Builder once more, in whose litter I completed the journey to Istanbul in comfort.

Of the obstacles and hardships encountered by the army on its homeward march I will say only that the losses sustained were greater than those of the siege itself, and that at least ten thousand Hungarian and German slaves perished on the way.
For my
part I could think only of Giulia and of our future home on the shores of the Bosphorus. Sinan the Builder, thin, worn, and unable to sleep after his unremitting toil and anxieties, was weary of my chatter long before we reached Istanbul and at length seized his hammer and threatened to crack my skull if I would not be quiet.
 

The nearer we came to Istanbul the more impatiently did I long to hold Giulia in my arms again, as I had done in the moments of our greatest happiness. I longed to tell her how well I had prospered, for with my two hundred aspers a day she could no longer look upon me as an inept and unenterprising man. By a singular irony of fate, the weather improved as we came nearer home. The rain ceased, wintry chill gave place to springlike warmth, and our eyes, weary of bleak mountains and heavy cloud, were now dazzled by the fresh green of countless gardens, although plane trees and acacias had long since shed their leaves.

The air was like well-cooled wine, the sun shone from a cloudless sky, and the smell of the sea came to us on the wind as the Sultan rode into his city at the head of his janissaries amid deafening acclamation. Drums and cymbals clashed and the captive slaves dragged themselves along, glancing sullenly to right and left as they beheld the vast extent of the Ottoman capital. Bonfires blazed everywhere that night. Even in Pera, the Venetian quarter, they glowed like strings of pearls.

On fire myself with longing I rode straight to Abu el-Kasim’s house, mounted on the horse given me by the Sultan. On my head I wore a broad turban adorned with a tuft of feathers in a jeweled clasp. From my belt under the kaftan of honor jingled a heavy purse and, besides my copper pen case, I wore a saber in a silver scabbard. I had hoped to find the gate flung wide and Giulia, warned by the sound of music, trembling in the doorway and blessing the day that brought me safely home from all the perils of war. Such was my fancied homecoming. But having waited so long outside the closed gate that
inquisitive neighbors began to gather about me, I drew my sword, leaned forward in the saddle, and hammered on the gate with the hilt.
 

My horse was whinnying and dancing about and I had great difficulty in keeping my seat when at last I heard the clash of bolts and Abu el-Kasim’s deaf-mute stood before me in the gateway. When he recognized me he quite lost his head and flung the gate open with a crash, uttering many incomprehensible sounds meanwhile. The horse reared, shied, and bolted into the courtyard, whence Giulia’s furry blue cat dashed away in a fright with bushy tail erect. At this my mount kicked and leaped sideways, throwing me headfirst to the ground. It was a marvel that my neck was not broken, though as it was my drawn sword made a deep gash in one calf—my first and only wound of the campaign.
 

The deaf-mute flung himself to the ground in remorse, beating his brow and breast with clenched fist so that I had not the heart to chastise him. At this moment a dark-skinned Italian appeared in the doorway with coat unbuttoned and striped breeches open at the waist. Smoothing his gleaming black hair he demanded angrily who dared to disturb his noble mistress’s siesta. He was young and well built, though his dark complexion hinted at low birth; his features were as faultless as those of a Greek statue, and as expressionless. His brilliant eyes seemed light in comparison with his skin, and his thin lips showed determination, though at the moment they were distorted by a -sneer.
 

I have described him thus fully to show that outwardly he was in no way repellent; yet from the first I felt a deep distrust of him. For this his arrogant behavior was not to blame, for when he realized who I was he displayed a flattering awe, and having restored some order to his own dress began respectfully shaking the sand from my kaftan. He then addressed me in well-chosen words. “I beg you not to be offended at so miserable a welcome, noble sir. We could not guess that you would return so soon. Regard for your lady should have impelled you to send word of your coming, that she might have prepared the house for celebration and received you in a fitting manner. Just now she is taking her midday rest, but I will rouse her instantly.”