A minute later the rope became taut, but only for a moment. As it cased, Roger took in the slack; Aimee too, grasped it, and each time Mahmoud levered himself a foot higher, they pulled on it to assist him in his climb. Once the strong young Prince was up on the roof, the three of them were not hard put to it to hoist Fatima. Hauling up Selim needed greater effort, although there were four of them on the rope; but the Kizlcr Aga's ascent called for no effort. Like Mahmoud, he worked his way up himself.
For all of them it had been a terrible experience; for those who came last the dread that they might yet be caught and murdered, for Aimed the fear that, although she had reached temporary safety, her son and dear friend Selim might not; for Roger the awful thought that he might have to abandon
Aimee with whom he had not allowed himself to fall in love, but might so easily have done had she been a woman of lesser station. His hands and wrists were lacerated, his right shoulder felt as though it had been seared by a red-hot iron. But he knew that, as yet, there could be no letting up. They were still almost in the centre of the vast Palace, now in the hands of thousands of ruthless enemies. Unless they could escape unseen from it, they would die that night.
Fortunately, there was no moon, but the starlight was bright enough for them to see one another and their surroundings. As they stood there in a little group, they took in for the first time their changed appearance. They had sat down to supper clean and elegantly clad. They now looked like so many scarecrows : their hair and turbans dishevelled, their fine garments torn and begrimed, their hands and faces black with soot.
Roger looked anxiously about him. In every direction there were scores of small domes crowning individual rooms. The squat, square turret above the Hall of the Dewan, the three-storey block that housed the ladies of the harem, and the tall chimneys of the ten kitchens were the only structures that stood out prominently against the skyline.
'Our best hope is a boat,' he said sharply. 'Which is the least dangerous way to the shore?'
'Through my mother's private garden,' Mahmoud replied promptly. 'But we will have to get down to it. Then at the bottom of the slope there is the wall.'
Abruptly Roger said, 'Be pleased to lead the way, Prince. But we had best crawl, lest some of those devils spot us up here on the roof and suspect who we are.'
Getting down on their hands and knees, they made their way between the cupolas over Aimee's apartments for about sixty yards, till they came to the edge of the roof on that side of the Palace. There Roger produced the muslin rope which he had brought with him. One by one they were lowered on to a terrace. Mahmoud insisted on going last, so had to tie one end of the rope to a chimney pot, which meant abandoning the rope. But that could not be helped.
As they crossed the garden, the night air still held the scent of the hundreds of hyacinths planted there. Aimee began to cry at the thought that she would never see it again. In that little soot-begrimed party, there was no longer a Padishah of Padishahs, a Sultan Valide, white man or black. They were just a group of human beings endeavouring to save their lives. Without hesitation Roger put his arm about her shoulders and strove to comfort her.
Where the garden ended there was a low wall. They scrambled over it and made their way down the slope through an orchard and large, well-tended patches of vegetables. At the bottom of the hill they came face to face with the high crenellated wall. To attempt to go out through the gate that led to the summer pavilions and the boat-houses was far too great a risk, for the guards there would be Janissaries. Even if, owing to the rebellion, they had left their posts it was certain that before leaving they would have locked the gate.
'What now?' asked Mahmoud in an unhappy voice. 'I see no way in which we can possibly scale the wall. So we are trapped here. Our only chance is to hide until morning, then hope that in some way Allah will succour us.'
'No, Prince,' Roger replied. 'My good friend Marshal Lannes, and General Oudinot with his Grenadiers, have scaled taller walls than this, and without scaling ladders. Your turban has served us well, but we have others: mine, that of Son Altesse Noire and, if need be, His Imperial Majesty's.'
As he spoke he began to unwind his own turban; the Kizler Aga followed suit. Knotting them together, Roger made at one end a large loop, then weighted the ellipse of the loop with stones as large as cricket balls. Standing well back from the wall, he threw the loop up. The stones clanked on the battlements, but the rope fell back. Again and again he tried to lodge the loop over one of the crenellations, without success, until his arm ached with throwing. The big Negro took over. At his third attempt the loop caught. They pulled upon the rope and it held firmly.
Having got his breath back, the muscles of his arms hurting terribly from the strain he had put upon them, Roger climbed the rope and managed to bestride the battlements. With comparative case the Kizler Aga swarmed up to sit beside him. Prince Mahmoud went up next. They then drew up the rope and let it down on the far side of the wall. Mahmoud lowered himself by it and stood ready to receive the others. In turn, Aimee, Fatima and Selim were pulled up, then lowered to the Prince. Roger and the Black Eunuch followed. Crossing the wall had taken them three-quarters of an hour, but they were now outside the precincts of the Palace. No-one had seen them and the shore was deserted.
Keeping close under the shadow of the wall, they crept along it, fearful that at any moment one of the guards who normally kept watch by the pavilions on the shore would suddenly appear and challenge them.
When they reached the boat-houses they found them, too, deserted. At the piers in front of them several boats lay booing gently in the tide. Roger chose one with three thwarts, as the most suitable for the party, because he felt sure that Mahmoud, who was proving a man after his own heart, would be willing to row, and the Kizler Aga could be counted on.
Aimee, Fatima and Selim setded themselves in the stern, the latter taking the single oar protruding from it by which the boat could be steered. He had not spoken since they had emerged from the chimney; but now he asked miserably, 'Whither shall we go?'
'Across to Pera,' Roger replied. 'The safest place for Your Majesty to seek sanctuary is in the French Embassy.'
'I do not agree,' said the Prince. 'It has no defences and only a handful of officers who could resist an attack upon it. Immediately it became known that we are there, the Janissaries will come over and demand our heads.'
'Where then?' asked Roger.
'To Rumeli Hisar. It is commanded by a Pasha known to be loyal to us, and garrisoned by reliable troops. There we shall be in a position to make terms.'
Roger hesitated for a moment. 'I had in mind that if we could get to the French Embassy General Gardane would at once take steps to rouse the mobs of the city against the Janissaries. They are so hated that thousands of people would take up arms to destroy them.'
Mahmoud shrugged. 'Perhaps. But I doubt it. The Janissaries are well armed and well disciplined. The odds are that they would cut to ribbons any ill-directed mob sent against them. At Rumeli our heads will at least remain on our shoulders for another few days.'
'So be it, Prince,' Roger replied. 'You are a better judge than I of this terrible situation. But Rumeli Hisar is a far cry up the Bosphorus, and in our present state I doubt if we'll come to it before morning.'
So it proved. Fortunately, Son Altesse Noire and Prince Mahmoud were both strong men, as Roger's hands had been so lacerated during his first attempts to haul Aimee up the chimney that, although he stuck it out, he could do little more than dip his oars in time with the others.