To take his mind off Aimee Roger thought, as he often did, of his beloved Georgina. She was the great love of his life, and no other woman could ever supplant her. Time and again he had pressed her to marry him, but she had proved adamant in her refusal. She always maintained that it was only because they were separated, often for many months and sometimes even for years, by his work as a secret agent on the Continent, that the flame of their desire for each other had never flickered, and that each time they did come together for a while it was with the same wild, joyous, utterly satisfying passion that they had known in their teens.
He fell asleep still thinking of her, and she came to him in a dream. So strong was the bond between them that there had been several occasions when he had been in acute danger and her voice had come clearly to him, telling what to do to save himself.
Now he could see her bending over him. He felt her soft kiss linger on his lips. Then she said, 'Roger, dear heart. Tomorrow you will receive an invitation. Take it, and you will have no regrets.'
When he woke in the morning, he remembered his dream as clearly as though she had come to his room in the flesh. The dream puzzled him greatly, because in his present situation the last thing he expected to receive was an invitation. Then he put the matter from his mind, had breakfast, spent half an hour in the Hamam and dressed.
It was shortly before midday that a herald emerged from the camp the Janissaries had made opposite the main gate of the castle, and demanded its submission in the name of the Sultan Mustapha IV.
The Pasha replied from the battlements above the great gate that he knew no Sultan other than His Imperial Majesty Selim III; and that in his name he would defend Rumeli Hisar to the death against all comers.
The herald retired, then returned ten minutes later, to state that His Imperial Master Mustapha IV desired to preserve his subjects from unnecessary bloodshed. So would the Pasha or some responsible person come out and parley with him?
Prince Mahmoud was standing on the steps that led up to the battlements above the great gate, and he said to the Pasha, 'Tell the man that, provided none of Prince Mustapha's troops are within four hundred yards of the gate when it is opened, I will do so.'
The Pasha pleaded with him to be allowed to go himself, insisting that if the Prince went out alone, he would certainly be assassinated. But Mahmoud refused to be moved, and said, 'Your cannon are already trained upon the Janissaries' encampment. Give orders to your men that, should they see me shot down, they are to fire. Such a volley might well kill Mustapha and so save our Sultan. You know the ancient prophecy that, when the last Prince of the House of Osmanli dies, the end of the Turkish Empire will follow. If both Mustapha and I are dead, they will not dare harm His Imperial Majesty.'
'So be it then, my Prince,' the Pasha submitted. Turning, he shouted the terms to the herald, who agreed them; then he and Mahmoud descended the stone staircase together and ordered the great gate to be unbarred.
Roger and the Kizler Aga had been standing nearby on the battlements, so they had heard the whole transaction. Now they watched the Janissaries withdraw and Prince Mahmoud leave the castle. A small group of men came forward to meet him, but did not approach beyond the stipulated limit.
The gunners held their lighted matches ready to apply them to the touch-holes of the cannons should the Prince be attacked. But, after a few minutes, it seemed that the rebels, at least for the present, had no intention of harming him. At a distance of a quarter of a mile it was not possible to see the expressions of the faces of the group or guess from their gestures how their discussion was going; but it seemed to be interminable.
At least half an hour went by before Mahmoud bowed to the others, turned and started back towards the castle. Roger, the Pasha and the Kizler Aga were all so intensely anxious to hear what had passed that they went out to meet him.
He greeted them with a smile, and said, 'The lives of all of us are safe. I have made a pact with Prince Mustapha. I refused his demand that our Lord Selim should publicly abdicate; but agreed that we should become his prisoners in the Seraglio. We are to be treated with respect, and enjoy the same comforts and semi-liberty as he and his mother have been allowed during the past few years. Tomorrow morning we are to return to the Seraglio in one of the Imperial barges, with a fining escort and the homage due to Princes of the House of Osmanli.'
Roger frowned. ‘In the circumstances, the terms are generous, Prince, and I'd congratulate you were I certain that Mustapha would honour them. But dare you trust him? Once he has you all in his power, isn't it highly probable that he will murder you?'
Mahmoud shook his head. 'Nay. He swore it upon the Koran before witnesses. Did he break his word, the Mullahs would denounce him from every pulpit in Islam, and his body would be thrown to the dogs by his own household troops for having disgraced the supreme office of Caliph.'
The Pasha and Son Altesse Noire were also evidently of that opinion, for they were laughing and clapping one another on the back.
Selim's virtual dethronement could not be taken as cause for a celebration. Nevertheless, an atmosphere of subdued gaiety permeated the castle for the remainder of the day. The fear of imminent death bad been lifted, not only from the Imperial party, but from the whole garrison.
Late in the evening, Aimee sent for Roger. To his surprise he found her alone. She greeted him with a smile. 'So it is all over. I am sure my prayers to the Holy Virgin must have helped; but it is to you we owe our lives.'
He shook his head. 'No, Madame. It is to the courage and statesmanlike handling of the situation this morning by your son.'
She smiled again. 'I am very proud of him. He will make a great Sultan.'
Roger hesitated. 'Is there ... is there really much chance now of his ever ascending the throne?'
'Most certainly he will. Did you never hear the prophecy that was made to me when I was a young girl in Martinique? It was that I would become a Queen and that my son would rule gloriously over a mighty Empire.'
'I earnestly pray, Madame, that the second half of that prophecy may also come true. But, with regard to yourself, I am deeply distressed. The thought of your becoming a prisoner has harrowed me all day.'
'Please let it do so no longer,' she said gently. 'It means only my removal from one prison to another. The so-called "cage" in the Seraglio is a beautiful pavilion with numerous rooms and its own garden. All that we have been through was caused only by the jealousy of Prince Mustapha's mother. She envied me my position. Now that she has it, she will be content. And Mustapha is by no means ill-disposed towards me personally. I am sure he will allow me to keep all the things I treasure. I'll have my books, my needlework and my flowers.'
'Oh, chere Madame! You cannot imagine how relieved I am to hear this.'
'I am most touched that you should have been so concerned for me. My one regret is that our friendship cannot continue. Tomorrow morning we shall see the last of each other.' Aimee paused for a moment, then went on. 'Alas, there is little I can do to reward you for your devotion. But there is one small matter that I could arrange to give you pleasure.'