I
The Grand Turk had removed his Court from Constantinople. His
beautiful capital city by the Golden Horn was in disgrace, on account
of the growing disaffection of its populace and the frequent mutinies
of its garrison. For the wars of Sultan Mahomet against the Republic
of Venice were increasingly unpopular in his capital, whose treasuries
were being drained to furnish constant relays of fresh troops for
further campaigns. Therefore, before its citizens became even more
bankrupt in their allegiance than they already were in their purses,
the ancient Grand Vizier advised his young master to withdraw, for a
while, the radiance of his imperial countenance from the now sullen
city beside the Golden Horn. Thus it came about that in the late
autumn of 1657, Sultan Mahomet, accompanied by his aged minister,
suddenly departed with his whole Court, and took up his residence
close outside the still loyal city of Adrianople. His state entry into
that town was of surpassing splendour, since both the Sultan and his
Minister were desirous to impress the citizens, in order to persuade
them to open their purse-strings and reveal their hidden hoards.
Moreover, they were ever more wishful to dazzle and overawe the
Venetian Ambassador, Ballerino, who was still kept by them,
unrighteously, a prisoner in the said town.
A full hour or more was the long cavalcade in passing over the narrow
stone bridge that spans the turbid Maritza outside the walls of
Adrianople. In at the great gate, and down the one, long, meandering
street of the city, the imperial procession wound, moving steadily and
easily along, since, an hour or two previously, hundreds of slaves had
filled up the cavernous holes in the roadway with innumerable barrel
loads of sawdust, in honour of the Sultan's arrival. Surrounded by
multitudes of welcoming citizens, the procession wound its way at
length out on the far side of the city. There, amid a semicircle of
low hills, clothed with chestnut woods, the imperial encampment of
hundreds and thousands of silken tents shone glistening in the
sun.[39]
In one of the most splendid apartments of the Sultan's own most
magnificent pavilion, the two chief personages who presided over this
marvellous silken city might have been seen, deep in conversation, one
sultry evening in June 1658, a few months after the Court had taken
up its residence outside the walls of Adrianople. They formed a
strange contrast: the boy Sultan and his aged Grand Vizier, Kuprüli
the Albanian. Sultan Mahomet, the 'Grand Seignior' of the whole
Turkish Empire, was no strong, powerful man, but a mere stripling who
had been scarred and branded for life, some say even deformed, by an
attack made upon him in earliest infancy by his own unnatural father,
the Sultan Ibrahim. This cruel maniac (whose only excuse was that he
was not in possession of more than half his wits at the time) had been
seized with a fit of ungovernable rage against the ladies of his
harem, and in his fury had done his best to slay his own son and heir.
Happily he had not succeeded in doing more than maim the child, and,
before long, imprisonment and the bow-string put an end to his
dangerous career. But though the boy Sultan had escaped with his life,
and had now reached the age of sixteen years, he never attained to an
imposing presence. He has been described as 'a monster of a man,
deformed in body and mind, stupid, logger-headed, cruel, fierce as to
his visage,' though this would seem to be an exaggeration, since
another account speaks of him as 'young and active, addicted wholly to
the delight of hunting and to follow the chase of fearful and flying
beasts.' In order to have more leisure for these sports he was wont to
depute all the business of government to his Grand Vizier, the aged
Albanian chieftain Kuprüli, who now, bending low before his young
master, so that the hairs of his white beard almost swept the ground,
was having one of his farewell audiences before departing for the
battlefield. Kuprüli, though over eighty years of age, was about to
face danger for the sake of the boy ruler, who lounged luxuriously on
his cushions, glittering with jewels, scented and effeminate, with
sidelong, cunning glances and cruel lips. Yet even Sultan Mahomet,
touched by his aged Minister's devotion, had been fired with unwonted
generosity: 'Ask what you will and you shall have it, even unto the
half of my kingdom,' he was exclaiming with true Oriental fervour.
The Grand Vizier again swept the ground with his long white beard,
protesting that he was but a humble dead dog in his master's sight,
and that one beam from the imperial eyes was a far more precious
reward than the gold and jewels of the whole universe. Nevertheless,
the Sultan detected a shade of hesitation in spite of the
magniloquence of this refusal. There was something the Grand Vizier
wished to ask. He must be yet further encouraged.
'Thou hast a boon at heart; I read it in thy countenance,' the Sultan
continued, 'ask and fear not. Be it my fairest province for thy
revenues, my fleetest Arab for thy stable, my whitest Circassian
beauty for thine own, thou canst demand it at this moment without
fear.' So saying, as if to prove his words, he waved away with one
hand the Court Executioner who stood ever at his side when he gave
audience, ready to avenge the smallest slip in etiquette.
The Grand Vizier looked on the ground, still hesitating and troubled,
'The Joy of the flourishing tree and the Lord of all Magnificence is
my Lord,' he answered slowly, 'the gift I crave is unworthy of his
bountiful goodness. How shall one small speck of dust be noticed in
the full blaze of the noonday sun? Yet, in truth, I have promised this
mere speck of dust, this white stranger woman, by the mouth of my
interpreter, that I would mention to my lord's sublimity her desire to
bask in the sunshine of his rays and----'
'A white, stranger woman,' interrupted the Sultan eagerly, 'desiring
to see me? Nay, then, the boon is of thy giving, not of mine. Tell me
more! Yet it matters not. Were she beauteous as the crescent at even,
or ill-favoured as a bird of prey, she shall yet be welcome for thy
sake, O faithful Servant, be she a slave or a queen. Tell me only her
name and whence she comes.'
Again the Grand Vizier made obeisance. 'Neither foul nor fair, neither
young nor old, neither slave nor queen,' he replied. 'She is in truth
a marvel, like to none other these eyes have seen in all their
fourscore years and more. Tender as the dewdrop is her glance; yet
cold as snow is her behaviour. Weak as water in her outward seeming;
yet firm and strong as ice is she in strength of inward purpose.'
'Of what nation is this Wonder?' enquired the Sultan. 'She can
scarcely be a follower of the Prophet, on whom be peace, since thou
appearest to have gazed upon her unveiled countenance?'
'Nay, herein is the greatest marvel,' returned the Minister, 'it is an
Englishwoman, come hither in unheard fashion over untrodden ways, with
a tale to tickle the ears. She tells my interpreter (who alone, as
yet, hath spoken with her) that her home is in the cold grey isle of
Britain. That there she dwelt many years in lowly estate, being indeed
but a serving-maid in a town called Yorkshire; or so my interpreter
understands. She saith that there she heard the voice of Allah
Himself, calling her to be His Minister and Messenger, heard and
straightway obeyed. Sayeth, moreover, that she hath already travelled
in His service beyond the utmost western sea, even to the new land
discovered by that same Cristofero of Genoa, whose fellow citizens are
at this hour dwelling in our city yonder. Sayeth that in that far
western land she hath been beaten and imprisoned. Yet, nevertheless,
she was forbidden to rest at home until she had carried her message
"as far to the East as to the West," or some such words. That having
thus already visited the land where sleeps the setting sun of western
skies, she craveth now an audience with the splendid morning Sun, the
light of the whole East; even the Grand Seignior, who is as the Shade
of God Himself.'
'For what purpose doth she desire an audience?' enquired the Sultan
moodily.
'Being a mere woman and therefore without skill, she can use only
simple words,' answered the Grand Vizier. '"Tell the Sultan I have
something to declare unto him from the Most High God," such is her
message; but who heedeth what a woman saith? "Never give ear to the
counsels and advices of woman" is the chiefest word inscribed upon the
heart of a wise king, as I have counselled ever. Yet, this once,
seeing that this maiden is wholly unlike all other women, it might be
well to let her bask in the rays of glory rather than turn her
unsatisfied away----.' The Vizier paused expectantly. The Sultan
remained looking down, toying with the pearl and turquoise sheath of
the dagger stuck in his girdle. 'A strange tale,' he said at last, 'it
interests me not, although I feel an unknown Power that forces me to
listen to thy words. Her name?' he suddenly demanded, lifting his eyes
once more to his Minister's face.
'She gives it not,' returned the other, 'speaketh of herself as but a
Messenger, repeating ever, "Not I, but His Word." Yet my interpreter,
having caused enquiries to be made, findeth that those with whom she
lodgeth in the city do speak of her as Maree. Also, some peasants who
found her wandering on the mountains when the moon was full, and
brought her hither, speak of her by the name of Miriam. Marvelling at
the whiteness of her skin, they deem she is a witch or Moon Maiden
come hither by enchantment. Yet must she on no account be hurt or
disregarded, they say, since she is wholly guileless of evil spells,
and under the special protection of Issa Ben Miriam, seeing that she
beareth his mother's name.'
The Sultan was growing impatient. 'A fit tale for ignorant peasants,'
he declared. 'Me it doth not deceive. This is but another English
vagabond sent hither by that old jackal Sir Thomas Bendish, their
Ambassador at Constantinople, to dog my footsteps even here, and
report my doings to him. I will not see her, were she ten times a
witch, since she is of his nation and surely comes at his behest.'
'Let my lord slay his servant with his own hands rather than with his
distrust,' returned the Grand Vizier. 'Had she come from Sir Thomas
Bendish, or by his orders, straightway to him she should have
returned. She hath never even seen him, nor so much as set eyes on our
sacred city beside the Golden Horn. Had she gazed even from a distance
upon the most holy Mosque of the Sacred Wisdom at Constantinople, she
had surely been less utterly astonished at the sight of even our noble
Sultan Selim in this city.' So saying, the Grand Vizier turned to the
entrance of the pavilion, and gazed towards the town of Adrianople
lying in the plain beneath, beyond the poplar-bordered stream of the
Maritza. High above all other buildings rose the great Mosque of
Sultan Selim, with its majestic dome surrounded by slender
sky-piercing minarets. Its 999 windows shone glorious in the rays of
the setting sun:--Sultan Selim, the glory of Adrianople, the ruin of
the architect who schemed its wondrous beauty; since he, poor wretch,
was executed on the completion of the marvel, for this crime only,
that he had placed 999 windows within its walls, and had missed,
though but by one, the miracle of a full thousand.
The Vizier continued: 'The woman declares she hath come hither on
foot, alone and unattended. Her tale is that she came by the sea from
the Isles of Britain with several companions (filled all of them with
the same desire to behold the face of the Sublime Magnificence) so far
as Smyrna; where, declaring their wish unto the English Consul there,
he, like a wise-hearted man, advised her and her companions "by all
means to forbear."
'They not heeding and still urgently beseeching him to bring them
further on their journey, the Consul dissembled and used guile.
Therefore, the while he pretended all friendliness and promised to
help forward their enterprise, he in truth set them instead on board a
ship bound for Venice and no wise for Constantinople, hoping thereby
to thwart their purpose, and to force them to return to their native
land. Some of the company, discovering this after the ship had set
sail, though lamenting, did resign themselves to their fate. Only this
maid, strong in soul, would not be turned from her purpose, but
declared constantly that Allah, who had commanded her to come, would
surely bring her there where He would have her, even to the presence
of the Grand Seignior himself. And lo! even as she spoke, a violent
storm arose, the ship was driven out of her course and cast upon the
Island of Zante with its rugged peaks; and there, speaking to the
ship-master, she persuaded him to put her ashore on the opposite coast
of the mainland, even at the place known as the Black Mountain; and
thence she hath made her way hither on foot, alone, and hath met with
nothing but lovingkindness from young and old, so she saith, as the
Messenger of the Great King.'
The Sultan's interest was aroused at last: 'Afoot--from the Black
Mountain!--incredible! A woman, and alone! It is a journey of many
hundreds of miles, and through wild, mountainous country. What proof
hast thou that she speaketh truly?'
'My interpreter hath questioned her closely as to her travels. His
home is in that region, and he is convinced that she has indeed seen
the places she describes. Also, she carries ever in her breast a small
sprig of fadeless sea-lavender that groweth only on the Black Mountain
slopes, and sayeth that the sea captain plucked it as he set her
ashore, telling her that it was even as her courage, seeing that it
would never fade.'
But the Sultan's patience was exhausted: 'I must see this woman and
judge for myself, not merely hear of her from aged lips,' he
exclaimed. 'Witch or woman--moonbeam or maiden--she shall declare
herself in my presence. Only, since she doth dare to call herself the
messenger of the Most High God, let her be accorded the honours of an
Ambassador, that all men may know that the Sultan duly regardeth the
message of Allah.'