A FIGHT FOR HIS OWN HEAD.
At Buda, while Hassan Pasha was fighting with the army of the German
Emperor, Yffim Beg was preparing the triumphal arches through which the
victors were to pass on their return, adorning them with green branches
and precious carpets, and leaving room for the standards to be captured
from the Germans and Hungarians. The bridge was also repaired and
strengthened to support the weight of the heavy gun-carriages and cannon
which Montecuculi was to have abandoned, and at the same time a large
space on the Rakas was railed in where all the slaves of all the
nations, including women and children, were to be impounded.
And after all these amiable preparations the terrible message reached
the worthy Yffim Beg from Hassan Pasha that he was to place all his
movable chattels, gold and silver, on a fugitive footing, barricade the
fortress, cut away the bridge so that the enemy might not be able to
cross it, and follow him with the whole harem, beyond the Raab, for who
could tell whether they would ever see the fortress of Buda again.
Yffim Beg was not particularly pleased with this message, but without
taking long to think about it, he put the damsels of the harem into
carriages, sent them off along the covered way adjoining the water-gate,
in order to make as little disturbance as possible, and, as soon as they
were on the other side of the bridge, ordered it to be destroyed and the
garrison of the fortress to defend themselves as best they could.
He reached the Turkish army to find the opposing hosts drawn up against
each other on different sides of the river, across which they bombarded
each other from time to time, without doing much damage.
The Pasha's pavilion was well in the rear, out of cannon-shot; he was
delighted when he saw Yffim Beg, and could not take his fill of kissing
Azrael, who was lovelier and more gracious than ever.
"Remain here," he said to his favourites, embracing the pair of them. "I
must retire now to the interior of my pavilion to pray for an hour or so
with the dervishes, for a great and grievous duty will devolve upon me
in an hour's time--two great Turkish nobles, Kucsuk Pasha and his son,
are to be condemned to death."
Azrael started as violently as if a serpent had crept into her bosom.
"How have they offended?" she asked, scarce able to conceal her
agitation.
"Against the precepts of the Prophet they engaged in battle on a day of
ill-omen; they have cast dirt on the victorious half-moon, and must wash
off the stain with their blood."
Hassan withdrew; Azrael remained alone in the tent with the Beg.
"I saw thee shudder," said Yffim, fixing his sharp eyes on the face of
Azrael.
"Death chooses the thirteenth; he leaped past me at this very moment."
"And on whom has the fatal thirteen fallen?"
"On someone who stands beside me or behind me."
"Behind thee in the tent outside is Feriz Beg."
"But thou art beside me."
"I am too young to die yet."
"And is not he also?"
"He of whom Hassan saith: 'He hath sinned!' becomes old and withered on
the spot."
"And hast thou done nothing for which thou shouldst die?"
"My beard will grow white because of my loyalty; life is long in the
shadow of Hassan."
"But how long will Hassan have a shadow?"
"Till his night cometh--but that is still far off."
"Hast thou not heard of the case of Ajas Pasha, Yffim?--of Ajas, who was
the mightiest of all the Pashas?"
"He was the Sultan's son-in-law."
"The Grand Seignior gave him his own daughter to wife, and loaded him
with every favour. One day Ajas lost a battle against the Zrinyis. It
was not a great defeat, but the Sultan was wrath and beheaded Ajas
Pasha."
"H'm! I recollect, it was a sad story."
"And dost thou remember the story of the faithful Hiassar? Ajas charged
him to bring to him before his death his favourite wife, not his whole
harem which thou hast brought to Hassan Pasha, but only his favourite
wife, that he might take leave of her; and dost thou know that for doing
this thing the Sultan had Hiassar roasted to death in a copper ox? For a
disgraced favourite possesses nothing--all he had is the Sultan's, his
treasures, his wives and his children; and whoever lays his hand upon
them is robbing the Sultan. Who knows, Yffim Beg, but what at this
moment I may not be the Sultan's slave-girl? and from slave-girl to
favourite is but a step, and thou knowest it would be but a short step
for me."
"What accursed things thou art saying."
"The wife of Ajas Beg was the Sultan's favourite at the time when
Hiassar was burnt, and a word from her would have saved him. But she
said it not, because she was wrath with him; methinks the woman loved
him once, and the slave despised her love. Give me my mandoline, Yffim,
I would sing a song."
The odalisk lay back upon the bed, while Yffim anxiously paced to and
fro like a hyena fallen into a snare. The story just related had a
striking resemblance to his own, and it would not take very much to give
it a similar termination.
Suddenly he stood before the damsel, who nonchalantly strummed the
strings of her instrument.
"What dost thou want?"
"Ask not what thou knowest."
"Thou wouldst save Feriz?"
"I will save him."
"I swear by Allah it is not to be done. Die he must, if only to tame
thee; for if he remain alive thou wilt destroy the lot of us sooner or
later."
Azrael collapsed at the feet of the Beg. Sobbing, she embraced his
knees.
"Oh, be merciful! Say but a word for him to the general. I love the
youth as thou canst see and dost very well know. Do not let him perish!"
Like all little souls, Yffim Beg became all the bolder at these
supplicating words, and seizing Azrael by the arms, roughly pulled her
to her feet, and whispered in her ear with malicious joy:
"I'll make thee a present of his head."
At these words the woman raised her head, her eyes like those of a
furious she-wolf seemed to glow with green fire, her tresses curled like
serpents round her bosom. She said not a word, but her tightly clenched
teeth kept back a whole hell of dumb fury.
At that moment the Vizier returned.
Azrael at once put on a smile. Hassan could not see what was seething in
her heart.
Yffim approached the Pasha confidentially.
"Does the Sultan know of thy disaster?"
"He has heard it since."
"It would be as well to send me with gifts to the Porte."
"Ask not that honour for thyself, Yffim; learn, rather, that whomsoever
I send to Stambul now is as good as sent to Paradise. The Sultan's wrath
is kindled, and he can only quench it with blood."
All the blood quitted Yffim's own face.
"Then thou hast thy fears, my master?"
"His rage demands blood, and the blood of a great man, too. Which of us?
That is all one, but a great man must die. If I cannot sacrifice someone
in my place I shall perish myself, but there are men of equal value to
myself from whom I can choose. There are two especially--Kucsuk and his
son. They began the battle; if they had not begun it, there would have
been no battle; and if there had been no battle, there would have been
no disaster. They are Death's sons already. The third is the Prince of
Moldavia. He was the first to fly from the fight; he had a secret
understanding with the Christians. He is a son of Death also. I can
throw in the Prince of Transylvania also, because he kept away from the
battle altogether and was late with his tribute. Had he sent it sooner,
we should have had money; and if we had had money, we should have been
able to have bought hay; and if we had had hay the soldiers would not
have hastened on the battle and so lost it. He also is a son of Death,
therefore. Go thou into Transylvania and bring him hither to me."
Azrael listened to all this with great attention. Yffim Beg regarded her
with a radiant countenance, as much as to say: "You see our heads won't
ache yet!"
The odalisk, however, trembled no longer; she pressed her lips tightly
together, and as if she was quite certain of what she was about to do,
she pressed her sweetly smiling face close to that of the Vizier, and
hanging on his arms, whispered to him:
"O Hassan, how my soul would rejoice if I could see flow the blood of
thine enemies."
Hassan sat the damsel on his knees, and his lips sported with her
twining tresses.
Yffim Beg was in such a mighty good humour at being commissioned by
Hassan to go as ambassador to the Prince of Transylvania, and so blindly
exalted by such a mark of confidence, that he fancied he could well
afford to torment Azrael a little.
"Whilst thou wert away, my master," said he, "thy damsel implored me to
grant her a favour, which I dare not do without first asking thy
permission."
Azrael regarded the smiling Beg with sparkling eyes, anxiously awaiting
what he would be bold enough to betray.
"What was it?--speak, Yffim Beg," remarked Hassan wildly.
"Thou and the other Pashas are about to condemn a youth to death--young
Feriz Beg, I mean."
"Well?" said Hassan frowning, while the odalisk whom he held embraced
trembled all over.
"Azrael would like to see the young man die."
The girl grew pale at these words; her heart for a moment ceased to
beat, and then began fiercely to throb again.
"A foolish wish," said Hassan; "but if thou desire it, be it so! Be
present at the meeting of the Pashas, stand behind the curtains by my
side, and thou shalt hear and see everything."
Azrael imprinted a long and burning kiss on Hassan's forehead with a
face full of death, and stood behind the curtain holding the folds
together with her hands.
"If thou shouldst faint," whispered Yffim Beg sarcastically, "thou shalt
have a vessel of musk from me."
Azrael laughed so loudly that Yffim fancied she must have gone mad.
"And now call the Pashas and draw the curtain of the tent," commanded
Hassan.
At the invitation of Yffim all the officers of the camp came to the
pavilion and took their seats in a circle on cushions. Last of all came
the Grand Vizier, Kiuprile, a big, stout, angry man, who, without
looking at anyone, sat down on the cushion beside Hassan and turned his
back upon him.
Then the roll of drums was heard, and Kucsuk Pasha and Feriz Beg, well
guarded, were brought in from different sides--Kucsuk on the left hand,
and Feriz on the right.
"Look!" whispered Azrael to Hassan from behind the curtain; "look how
proud they are, the son on the right, the father on the left. They seem
to be encouraging each other with their glances."
Hassan nodded his head as if thanking his favourite for assisting his
weak eyes, and as both figures came within the obscurity of the tent,
where the light was not very good at the best of times, acting on the
hint given, he turned towards the aged Kucsuk Pasha and cried:
"Thou immature youth, step back till I speak to thee."
Then, turning to young Feriz Beg, he said:
"Step forward, thou hardened old traitor! Wherefore didst thou leave the
armies of the Sublime Sultan in the lurch?"
Feriz Beg, as if a weapon against his persecutors had suddenly been put
into his hand, stepped boldly right up to Hassan Pasha, and exclaimed in
a bold voice, which rang though the tent:
"Thou art the traitor, not I; for thou darest to hold the office of
general when thou art blind and canst not distinguish two paces off
father from son, or an enemy from a friend."
Hassan sprang in terror from his carpet when he heard Kucsuk's son speak
instead of Kucsuk.
"That is not true," he stammered, changing colour.
"Not true!" replied Feriz stiffly; "then, if thine eyes be good, wilt
thou tell me what regiment is now passing thy tent with martial music?"
The tent be it understood was open towards the plain overlooking the
whole camp and the river beyond.
A military band was just then crossing the ground not far from the tent,
quite alone; no regiment was coming after it.
"Methinks, thou mutinous dog, 'tis no answer to my question to inquire
what regiment is now passing by, for it maybe that I know better than
thou why it has arrived; nor is it part of my duty to mention the
rabble by name; suffice it that I hear the trumpets and see the
banners."
The Pashas looked at each other; there was neither regiment nor banners.
"So that's it, eh?" said Kiuprile, spitting in front of him; and with
that he rose from his place, and, without looking at Hassan, took Kucsuk
and Feriz by the arm. "Come!" said he to the other generals--"you can go
now!" he cried to the guards, and the whole assembly withdrew from the
tent.
Hassan fell back on his carpet. He himself had betrayed his great
defect.
Azrael rushed from her hiding-place.
"Oh, my master!" she cried; "thou didst wrongly interpret my words, and
so made everything go wrong."
"I am lost," he stammered, and quite beside himself he plunged into the
interior of the tent to pray with the dervishes.
Yffim Beg stood there as if his soul had been filched from him; while
Azrael approached him with a smile of devilish scorn and stroked his
face down with her hand.
"Dost thou fancy thou wilt require another good word for thee?"
"I can betray thee."
"Thou couldst if thou didst but know which of the two is to live
longest--Hassan or I."
* * * * *
Two hours after this scene there was a private conversation between
Hassan Pasha and Yffim Beg, from which even Azrael was excluded. The
interview over, Yffim Beg departed quickly from the camp. The general
had sent him to Transylvania to go in his name from village to village
to make a general inspection, and ask the magistrates why the common
folks did not pay the taxes at the proper time. He was thence to go to
the Prince and ask the cause of this delay in the transmission of
taxes; thus either the people or the Prince would be held responsible.
Hassan for a long time had had a scheme in his head of seizing
Transylvania by force of arms, whereby, on the one hand, he would win
the favour of the Porte, by adding a new subject state to Turkish
territory, and, on the other hand, would secure for himself a good easy
princely chair instead of a dangerously-jolting general's saddle.
At the same time Olaj Beg was worrying Apafi to seize the escaped
Princess of Moldavia and send her to Hassan Pasha, who was well aware
that the silken cord would be constantly dangling before his eyes till
he had found someone else whose neck he could jeopardise instead of his
own.
Kucsuk and his son had escaped from his talons, but he had just heard
from Olaj Beg that the Moldavian Princess was with Apafi, and in an
interesting condition, so that there was every prospect of a young
Prince being born. Here, then, in case of necessity, was a person who
could be handed over, and in case she escaped, the silken cord would
remain round Apafi's neck.
A few days after the departure of Yffim Beg, peace was hastily concluded
between the Porte and the King of the Romans. In consequence thereof
Hassan avoided a collision with the other generals, and, quitting them,
hastened back to Buda with his army. Kiuprile marched right off to
Belgrade, Kucsuk was dispatched to the fortress of Szekelyhid; only
Feriz remained at Buda, for the simple reason that he was confined to
his bed by a feverish cold in a kiosk, which was erected for him by the
express command of Kiuprile.
Just about this time Azrael had an excess of devotion, and was
constantly plagued by terrifying dreams in which she saw Hassan Pasha
walking up and down without his head, and every morning she got leave
from him to pay a visit to an old dervish to pray against the apparition
of evil spirits. Hassan was much affected by this devotion towards him
and true Mussulman fervour, and made no opposition to his favourite
damsel going every morning to the mosque to pray, and only returning
from thence late every evening; but he impressed it upon her suite to
keep a watchful eye upon the girl lest she should deceive them. They
therefore permitted pious Azrael to visit the worthy dervish so wrapped
up that only her eyes were visible, and soon afterwards saw her return
with the gracious old man. The dervish had a white beard and white
eyebrows, as if he were well frosted; his eyes were cast down, and he
wore such a frightfully big turban that not even the tips of his ears
were visible. He was also not very lavish of speech, dumbly he pointed
out to the veiled damsel the great clasped book and she knelt down
before it and began to read with edifying devotion, touching it from
time to time with her forehead; while the dervish, raising his hand,
blessed one by one the slaves standing outside the door, and, after
indicating by dumb show that he must now go to the kiosk where the sick
Feriz Beg was lying and cure him by the efficacy of his prayers, he
hobbled away.
All four slaves glued their faces to the iron lattice work of the door,
thrust their cheeks between its ornaments, and saw how the kneeling
damsel kept praying all the time before the large open book. She must
have had an unconscionable fondness for prayer, for even when the
evening grew late she had not moved from the spot till the dervish,
leaning on his crutch, came hobbling back from Feriz Beg. Then she
accompanied him into the interior of the mosque, and after a short hymn,
returned to make her way back to the fortress.
And thus it went on for ten days. The slaves of her escort now began to
think that Azrael wanted to learn the Koran by heart and grew tired of
watching her praying and bowing and genuflecting with unwearied
devotion.
Let us leave them gazing and marvelling, and seek out Feriz Beg, whom
now, as at other times, the old dervish was tending.
There sat the good old man by the bedside of the pale and handsome
youth. Nobody else was in the room. With his hand he dried the dripping
sweat from the youth's forehead, every hour he put red healing drops
into his mouth with a golden spoon, he guessed what was wanted
immediately from every sigh, from every groan of the invalid. When he
slept he fanned fresh air upon him, when he woke and stretched forth his
burning hands, he felt the throbbing pulse and comforted and soothed him
with gentle and consolatory words; and if he flung about impatiently in
the fever of delirium, he covered him up carefully, like a tender
mother, moistened his lips with fresh citron-water; and if he perceived
from his flushed face how he was suffering he would raise his head, and
press his burning temples to his bosom.
On the tenth day the youth's illness took a turn for the better. Early
in the morning, when he awoke, he had a clear consciousness of his
condition.
There by the side of his bed still sat the old man with his eyes fixed
on the youth's face.
"So thou hast been my nurse, eh?" sighed the youth gratefully, and he
extended his hand to take that of the dervish, and he respectfully
impressed upon it a long burning kiss, closing his eyes piously as he
did so.
And when he again opened his eyes, holding continually the kissed hand
between his own hands, behold! by his bedside no longer sat the old
dervish, but a young and tremulous damsel, with black tresses rolling
down her shoulders, with a blushing face and timidly smiling lips--it
was Azrael.
Feriz fancied that he was the sport of some delirious dream or
enchantment, and only when he looked about him in his bewilderment and
perceived the cast-off false beard and turban and the other lying
symbols of age, did he regain his presence of mind; and immediately the
expression of gratitude and devotion disappeared from the face of Feriz
Beg, his features took in a rigorous expression and he withdrew his hand
from the pressure of those other hands. Speak he could not, both mind
and body were too much broken for that; but he pointed to the door and
signified to the damsel in dumb show that she was to withdraw.
"Thou knowest me, for thou hatest me," stammered Azrael; "if thou didst
not know me thou wouldst not hate me, and if thou didst know me better
thou wouldst love me."
The youth shook his head.
"Then--thou--lovest--another?" said the trembling girl.
Feriz Beg nodded: yes.
Azrael rose from her place as if some venomous spider had bitten her,
her face was convulsed by a burning grief, she pressed her hands to her
bosom; then slowly her form lost all its proud rigidity, and her eyes
their savage brightness, her features softened, and collapsing before
the bed of the youth she hid her face in his pillows and murmured in a
scarce audible voice: "And therefore I love thee all the more."
Then, resuming her disguise, she calmly piled upon herself all the
tokens of old age till once more before the sick man stood the gentle
honest dervish who hobbled away on his crutches, blessing everyone he
encountered till he returned again to the mosque.
After Azrael had withdrawn, Feriz at once dismissed the dervish, who, at
the youth's command, confessed everything to him. The general's
favourite damsel, he said, had come to the mosque to pray ten days ago
and had changed garments with him in his hiding-place in order to tend
the dear invalid all day long while the dervish, enwrapped in her veil,
had prayed in the sight of the slaves.
Feriz Beg threatened the dervish with death if he did not confess
everything, and, as it became a true cavalier, richly rewarded him when
he had revealed the secret intrigue, forbidding him at the same time to
assist it any further.
* * * * *
Several days had passed by.
Hassan Pasha spent his days in the mosque, and his nights behind the
trellised gates of his harem; he scented an evil report in every new
arrival, and avoided all intercourse with his fellows. The whole day he
was praying, the whole night he was drunk; from morning to evening he
was occupied with the priests and the Koran, and from the evening to the
morning he amused himself among his damsels, listened to their songs,
bathed in ambergris-water, drank wine mingled with poppies, and had his
body rubbed with cotton-wool that he might sleep and be in paradise.
Frequently he had bad dreams, an evil foreboding, like the pressure of a
night-hag, lay upon his heart, and when he awoke he seemed to see it all
vividly before his eyes and durst not sleep any more, but dressed
himself, sought out the room of Azrael and made the damsel sit down
beside him and amuse him with merry stories.
The odalisk held unlimited sway over the mind of Hassan, and could, at
will, tune his mind to a good or evil humour by anticipating his
thoughts. The Pasha trusted her implicitly.
It is a bad old custom with oriental potentates to go to bed fuddled and
dream all manner of nonsense, and then incontinently to demand a clear
interpretation of the nebulous stuff from their wise men--or wise women.
This happened to be the case one morning with Hassan Pasha and Azrael
who just then was watering with a silver watering-can a gorgeous gobaea,
whose luxurious offshoots clambered like a living ladder to the roof of
the greenhouse, thence casting down to the ground again tendrils as
thick as ropes.
"Last night I was dreaming of this very plant that thou dost nourish in
yon large tub," said Hassan in a voice that sounded as if he thought it
an extraordinary thing to be listening to his own words. "I dreamt that
it put forth a long and flowery shoot which grew into a tall tree, and
from the end of one of the branches of this tree hung a large yellow
fruit. Then I thought I had some important and peculiar reason for
breaking off the fruit, and I sent a big white-bearded ape up into the
tree to fetch it. The ape reached the fruit, and for a long time plucked
at it and shook it, but was unable to break it off. At last, however, he
fell down with it at my feet, the golden fruit burst in two, and a red
apple rolled out of it, and I picked them both up and was delighted.
What does that signify?"
Azrael kept plucking the yellow leaves off her dear plant and throwing
them through the window, beckoned to the Pasha to sit down beside her,
and tapping him on the shoulder, began to tick off the events on her
pretty fingers.
"The golden fruit is the Moldavian Princess, and the white ape thou
didst send for her is none other than Olaj Beg. Thy dream signifies that
the Beg is about to arrive with the Princess, who in the meantime has
borne a son, and thou wilt rejoice greatly."
Hassan was well content with this interpretation, when a eunuch entered
and brought him a sealed letter on a golden salver. It was from the
Pasha of Grosswardein.
The letter was anything but pleasant. Ali Pasha begged to inform the
Vizier that the Government of Transylvania, having delivered Mariska
Sturdza into the hands of Olaj Beg, the Beg at once set off with her,
and had got as far as Kiralyhago, when some persons hidden in the forest
had suddenly rushed out upon him, massacred his suite to the last man,
and left the Princess' carriage empty on the high road. The Princess had
in all probability been helped to rejoin her husband in Poland.
The letter fell from the hand of Hassan Pasha.
"Thou hast interpreted my dream backwards," he roared, turning upon
Azrael; "everything has turned topsy-turvy. The ape descended from the
tree with the fruit, but knocked his brains out."
At that moment the door-keeper announced: "Olaj Beg has arrived with the
Moldavian Princess."
At these words Hassan Pasha, in the joy of his heart, leaped from his
cushions, and after kissing Azrael over and over again, rushed forward
to meet Olaj Beg, and meeting him in the doorway, caught him round the
neck and exclaimed, beside himself with joy:
"Then my ape has not knocked his brains out, after all!"
Olaj Beg smilingly endured the title and the embrace, but on looking
around and perceiving Azrael standing in the window he began doing
obeisance to her with the greatest respect.
"Hast thou brought her? Where is she? Thou hast not lost her, eh? Thou
hast well looked after her?" asked Hassan in one breath.
By this time Olaj Beg had bowed his head down to his very knees before
the damsel, and was saying to her in a mollified voice:
"May I hope that the beautiful Princess will not find it tiresome if we
talk of grave affairs in her presence?"
Azrael at once perceived the object of all this bowing and scraping.
Olaj Beg wished her to withdraw.
"Thou mayest speak before me, worthy Olaj Beg, though what thou art
about to say is no secret to me, for I can read the future, and my
secrets I tell to none."
And now Hassan intervened.
"Thou mayest speak freely before her, worthy Olaj Beg. Azrael is the
root of my life."
Olaj Beg made another deep and long obeisance.
He had heard enough of that name to need no further recommendation. He
made up his mind on the spot to tell Hassan, who was in the power of
this infernal woman, no more than he deserved to know.
"Then thou hast brought the Princess with thee?" insisted Hassan, whose
joy beamed upon his face in spite of himself. "Did the Transylvanian
gentlemen make much difficulty in handing her over?"
"They handed her over, but it would have been very much better if they
had not. I should have preferred it if they had risen in her behalf,
stirred up all Klausenberg against me and beaten me to death. At any
rate, I should then have died gloriously. But alas! the Magyar race is
degenerating, it has begun to be sensible. Those good old times have
gone when they used to fire a whole village for the sake of a runaway
female slave; and it was possible to seize a whole county in exchange
for one burnt village; if the Hungarian gentry continue to be as wise as
they are now the younger generation of them may strike root in our very
Empire."
"I was alarmed on thy account, for I have just received a letter from
the Pasha of Grosswardein, in which he informed me that certain persons
had attacked the Princess's escort at Kiralyhago and cut them down to a
man."
"I anticipated that," replied Olaj Beg slily. "When with much shedding
of tears they handed the Princess over to me, I heard them whisper in
her ear: 'Fear nothing!' and I well understood from that that those same
gentlemen who in the council chamber, with wise precautions, resolved to
deliver up the fugitive Princess, had agreed among themselves over their
cups at dinner-time that as I left Transylvania they would lie in wait
for, fall upon me, and liberate and take away with them the Princess
whom, by the way, they did not deliver over immediately, giving out that
she was sick and suffering torments. While I was awaiting her recovery,
nobody but her ladies was allowed admittance to her, and as soon as she
was on her legs again, I made all my preparations for the journey next
day, marshalling all the carriages and baggage-wagons in the courtyard.
I myself, however, got into a sorry matted conveyance with the Princess
and her child, and set off the same night in the direction of Deva. My
suite, with the empty carriages, was to follow next morning in the
direction of Grosswardein. The masked men cut them down as arranged, but
the Princess and her son were in safe hands all the time. Olaj Beg is an
old fox, and a fox knows his way about."
Hassan Pasha rubbed his hands delightedly.
"Nevertheless," continued Olaj Beg, "imagine not, my good general, that
because this woman is now in thy hands thou wilt be able to keep her.
Sleeplessness will enter thy house as soon as thou hast admitted her
within thy doors. If it be hard to guard any woman, it will be
particularly hard to guard this one. The men and women of a whole
kingdom have sworn to set her free by force or fraud, and will use every
effort to do so. They will open thy bedroom doors with skeleton keys,
they will dig beneath thy cellars, they will strew sleeping powder in
thy evening potions, they will corrupt thy most faithful servants, and
if no other poison make any impression upon thee they will pour into thy
heart the most potent of all poisons, the tears of a supplicating woman.
I have brought the treasure, and I deliver it into thy hands. Allah
requites me for my pains by taking her from me. Thou art now her guard,
conceal her as best thou canst. Thy greatest worry will be that thou
canst not slay her, for indeed she were best hidden beneath the ground.
But thou art to see to it that she is delivered alive into the hands of
the Sultan's envoys, for shouldst thou kill her thyself be sure thou
wilt soon feel the silken cord around thine own neck. Meanwhile, peace
be with thee and to all who abide in the shadow of the Prophet!"
With these words Olaj Beg stepped into the adjoining room, and leading
in the Princess, placed her hand in the hand of Hassan; then he raised
his eyes to Heaven.
"Allah is my witness," said he, "that I have delivered her and her child
into thy hands!"
In the first moment Hassan Pasha was amazed at the woman's loveliness,
and thought with regret that it was necessary for his own safety that
she must die.
Olaj Beg, however, had yet another piece of good advice to impart, and,
with that object, drew nigh to him to whisper in his ear; but, as if his
courage failed him at the last moment, he delivered his sentiments in
the Arabic tongue.
"Thou wouldst guard this woman best if thou tookest her child from her
and locked it up separately. The mother certainly would not escape
without the child."
The Princess Ghyka did not understand these words, but she saw how the
old fox indicated her little one with a glance and with what a greedy
look Hassan regarded it; and she pressed the child all the closer to her
bosom as she saw him come a step closer. The unhappy woman trembled when
she saw Hassan smile upon the child like a hungry wolf would smile if he
encountered it on his path. She guessed from their play of feature the
terrible idea which the two men were discussing in a foreign tongue, and
in her despair cast her eyes upon Azrael, as if hoping that she would
find a response to her agony in a woman's heart.
The odalisk pretended she had not observed the look, as if those present
were not worthy of the slightest attention from her; when, however,
Hassan gratefully embraced the Beg for this fresh piece of advice,
Azrael intervened with a peculiar smile.
"Thou dost act like one who, bending beneath the weight of a burden too
heavy for him, would pass it on to his neighbour."
Hassan looked at his favourite damsel inquiringly, while Olaj Beg, who
was unaccustomed to hear women talk at all when men were holding
counsel together, looked back with offended surprise over his shoulder.
Azrael reclined lazily back upon her cushions, and swung one leg over
her knee as she conversed with the two men.
"Worthy Hassan," said she, "thou wouldst make two troubles out of one,
if thou didst separate thy captives; while thou keepest thine eye on one
of them, they will steal away the other behind thy back."
Hassan cast a troubled look upon Olaj Beg, who stroked his long white
beard and smiled.
"If thou dost permit thy damsels to ask questions, thou must needs
answer them," said he.
At these words Azrael leaped from her place and boldly approached the
two men, her flaming black eyes measured the Beg from head to foot, and
when she spoke it was with a determined, startling voice.
"Listen to me, Hassan--yes, I say, thou shouldst listen to me before all
thy friends just because I am a woman. A man can only give advice, but a
woman loves, and before a man thinks of danger a woman already sees it
coming from afar, and while a man may grow into a crafty old fox, a
woman is born crafty. Hassan knows very well that of all those who wear
a mask of friendship for him, there is but one on whom he can absolutely
rely, whose love all the treasures in India can as little destroy as
they can lull her hatred asleep, who watches over him while he sleeps,
and if she sleeps is dreaming of his destiny--that person am I."
Hassan confirmed the words of the damsel by throwing his arm round her
shoulders and drawing her towards him.
"If this woman requires a sleepless, uncorruptible guardian," continued
Azrael, "I will be that guardian. Make for us a long chain, and let one
end of it be fastened to my arm and the other to her girdle. Thus the
slave will be chained to the jailer, and, sleeping or waking, will be
unable to escape from me. I shall be a good janitor. I will not let her,
or her child, out of my hands."
The damsel accompanied these words with such an infernal smile that Olaj
Beg involuntarily edged away from her; while Hassan was enchanted by
this noble specimen of loyalty. But Mariska's face was bright and
resigned again, for she understood from the words of the odalisk,
threatening as they were, that she and her child were not to be
separated, and to all else she was indifferent.
Olaj Beg drew the folds of his caftan over his lean, dry bosom, and
after peering at the two women, remarked to Hassan:
"'Tis well thou canst trust a woman to look after a woman."
With that he backed out of the room, blessing all four corners of it as
he went, and in the gateway distributed with great condescension to
every one of the servants who had done anything for him some money
ingeniously twisted up in pieces of paper (which, by the way, were found
to contain a half-penny each when at last unfolded), and sitting in his
mat-covered carriage, gave strict orders to the coachman not to look
back till he saw the citadel of Buda.
But Hassan the same hour sent for his goldsmith, and bade him prepare
immediately a silver chain, four yards long, with golden shackles at
each end, for Azrael and Mariska. The goldsmith took the measure of the
hands of the two damsels, and brought in the evening a chain made of
beaten silver, whose shackles were fastened by masterly-constructed
padlocks, which Hassan himself fastened on the hands of the damsels,
thrusting the key which opened the padlocks into his girdle, which he
tapped a hundred times a day to discover whether it was still there or
not. Then he dismissed the pair of them into Azrael's dormitory. Mariska
endured everything--the chain, the shame, and rough words--for the
privilege of being able to embrace her child. She lay down content on
the carpets as far from Azrael as the chain would permit it, and folding
her hands above the baby's innocent head, prayed with burning devotion
to the God of mercy, and calmly went to sleep holding the child in her
arms.
* * * * *
A little beyond midnight the child began softly wailing. At the first
sound of its crying Mariska awoke, and as she moved her hand the chain
rattled. Azrael was instantly alert.
"Hast thou had evil dreams?" inquired the odalisk of Mariska; "the
rattling of the chain aroused me."
"The weeping of my child awoke me," said Mariska softly; and drawing the
little one to her bosom, as it embraced its mother's beautiful velvet
breast with its chubby little finger, and drank from the sweetest of all
sources the draught of life, the young mother gazed upon it with
unspeakable joy, smiled, laughed, caught the child's rosy little fingers
in her mouth, and implanted resounding kisses on its rosy, chubby
cheeks. She had no thought at that moment for chain and dungeon.
Azrael felt in her heart the torments of the demons--it was that
jealousy which those who are rocked in the lap of happiness feel at the
sight of a luckless wretch who is happier than they are in spite of all
his wretchedness.
"Wherefore dost thou rejoice?" she asked, gazing upon the lady with the
eyes of a serpent.
"Because my child is with me."
"But the whole world has abandoned thee."
"It is more to me than the whole world."
"More than thy husband?"
Mariska reflected for a moment, and then, instead of replying, hugged
the child still closer to her bosom and imprinted a kiss upon its
forehead.
"Wert thou ever a mother?" she asked Azrael in her turn.
"Never," stammered the odalisk, and involuntarily her bosom heaved
beneath a sigh.
It was plain from the face of Mariska how much she pitied this poor
woman. Azrael perceived the look, and it wounded her that she should be
pitied.
"Dost thou not know that both of you must die?" she asked with a
darkened countenance.
"I am ready."
"And art thou not terrified at the thought? They will strangle thy child
with a silken cord, and hang it dead upon thy breast, and then they will
strangle thee likewise, and put you both in the grave, in the cold
earth."
"We shall see each other in a better world," said Mariska with fervent
devotion.
"Where?" inquired the astounded Azrael.
Mariska, with holy confidence, raised her little one in her arms, and,
lifting her eyes, said: "God will take us unto Himself."
"And what need hath God of you?"
"He is the Father of those who suffer, and in the other world He rewards
those who suffer grief here below."
"And who told thee this?"
Mariska, as one inspired, placed her hand upon her heart and said: "It
is written here!"
Azrael regarded the woman abashed. Truly, many mysterious words are
written in the heart, why cannot everyone read them? She also had
listened to such mystic voices, but they were words shouted in a desert,
in her savage breast there was no manner of love which could interpret
their meaning.
Mariska again put down her child on the edge of the cushion.
"Place not thy child there," cried Azrael impatiently; "it might easily
fall, place it between us!"
Mariska accepted the offer, and placed the little one between herself
and Azrael.
When the first ray of dawn penetrated the large window Mariska awoke,
and, folding her hands together above the head of the little child,
again began to pray.
Azrael looked on darkly.
"Dost thou never pray?" said Mariska, turning towards her.
"Why should women pray? Their destiny is not in their own hands. Their
fate depends upon their masters; if their masters are happy, they are
happy also; if their masters perish, they perish with them. This is
their earthly lot--and that is all. Allah never gave them a soul--what
have they to do with the life beyond this? In Paradise the Houris take
their places and the Houris remain young for ever. The breath of a woman
vanishes with the autumn mist like the fumes of a dead animal, and Allah
has no thought for them."
Mariska, with only half intelligible sorrow, looked at this woman who
wished to seem worse than she really was.
Azrael crept closer up to her.
"And dost thou really believe that there is someone who listens to what
the worms say, to what the birds twitter, and to what women pray?"
"Certainly," replied the young Christian woman; "turn to Him, and thou
wilt feel for thyself His goodness."
"How can it be so? Why should He pay any attention to me?"
"It is not enough I know to clasp thy hands and close thy eyes. Thy
petition must come straight from thy heart, and thy soul must believe
that it will gain its desire."
Azrael's face flushed red. Hastily she cast herself down on her knees on
the carpet, and pressing her folded hands to her bosom, stammered in a
scarce audible voice:
"God! grant me one moment in my life in which I can say: I am happy."
Her eyes were still closed when the door of the dormitory opened, and
Hayat, the oldest duenna of the harem, entered with an air of great
secrecy. She was now a shrivelled up bundle of old bones, but formerly
she had been the first favourite of Hassan Pasha, and now she was the
slave and secret confidante of all the favourites in turn.
Azrael leaned towards her, perceiving from the face of the duenna that
she brought some message for her; whereupon the latter advanced and,
looking around in case anyone should be lurking there, whispered some
words in Azrael's ear.
On hearing these words the odalisk leaped from her seat with a face
flushed with joy, while unspeakably tender tears trembled in her eyes.
Her hands were involuntarily pressed against her heaving bosom, and her
lips seemed to murmur some voiceless prayer.
Some great unusual joy had come upon her, some joy which she had always
longed but never dared to hope for. Scarce able to restrain herself she
turned towards her comrade, who, after listening to her, gazed
wonderingly at her and pressed her hand, exclaiming in a voice of strong
conviction: "Then it is true, our prayer has indeed been heard!"
Azrael began merrily putting on her garments, and helped Mariska also to
dress; then she sent the duenna with a message to Hassan. She must go
again to the mosque of the old dervish to pray, for she had been
dreaming of Hassan.
Soon afterwards Hassan himself came to her, took from her arm the golden
shackle which fastened the chain that bound her to Mariska, and,
ordering her palanquin to be brought up to the door, sent her away to
the old dervish; while, seizing the end of the Princess's chain, he led
her, together with her child, into his own apartments and there sat down
on his cushions, drawing his rosary from his girdle and mumbling the
first prayers of the naama, constantly holding in his hand the end of
the Princess's chain.
The Vizier had of late been much given to prayer, for since the lost
battle not a soul had come to visit him. The envoys of the Sultan, the
country petitioners, the foreign ministers, the begging brotherhoods,
all of them had avoided his threshold as if he were dead.
The first day he was painfully affected by this manifestation, but on
the second day he commanded the door-keepers to admit none to his
presence. Thus, at any rate, he could make himself believe that if
nobody came to visit him it was by his express command.
He knew right well that a sentence of death had been written down and
that this sentence was meant for one of two persons, either the Princess
or himself, where their two shadows mingled a double darkness was cast,
and Israfil, the Angel of Death, stood over them with a drawn sword.
Hassan knew this right well, and he pressed in his hand convulsively the
silver chain to which his prisoner was attached, that prisoner whom he
regarded as the ransom for his own life.