“I know all this,” I replied curtly. Her words distressed me, for the attempt, foiled by the vigilance of the Grand Vizier, to steal part of the Sultan’s war funds had aroused much excitement throughout Istanbul and fantastic rumors were current in the Seraglio. But nothing would deter Giulia from pouring poison into my ear.
“Believe me, Michael-be wise and don’t walk blindfold into disaster. Take careful note of all the Grand Vizier says. Calm him; prevent any hasty or ill-considered action. For although Sultana Khurrem wishes him no ill, he will be setting the noose about his own neck if he continues to persecute her friends and faithful servants. Iskender-£r ‹?/‹?£ in particular enjoys the Sultana’s favor, and it was only to cast suspicion upon him that Ibrahim bribed men to steal the camels laden with part of the war funds.”
“I take a very different view of that incident,” said I. “Why should the Seraskier steal his own money? And besides, he has the written confession of the accused-a confession which throws a strange light upon the Defterdar, as should be evident to all right-thinking persons.”
Giulia’s face darkened.
“And it was extorted under merciless torture! Perhaps you can explain why the Grand Vizier was in so great a hurry to take the lives of those unhappy men as soon as they had confessed, if not to silence inconvenient witnesses.”
“Allah be gracious to me!” I cried in exasperation. “Only a woman could reason thus. How in wartime could he have pardoned the men so dangerous an offense? As Seraskier, he was compelled to make an example of them, to prevent the spread of sedition.”
A queer gleam came into Giulia’s eyes, but with a great effort she controlled herself and answered, “You refuse to see the truth, Michael, and you will have a terrible awakening. Don’t blame me if when the time comes I can do nothing to save you. I wish you a good journey to your dear Grand Vizier, and hope that on the way you will find time to think the matter over. Be sure that rich rewards await you if you come to your senses in time.”
According to Ibrahim’s commands, I traveled the long road to Bagdad with the greatest possible speed. I was blind and deaf with exhaustion, my cramped limbs ached, and I was in agony from saddle sores when at length I slipped from my mount with my companions to press an aching brow to the ground and stammer prayers of thanksgiving. The countless mosques, minarets, and towers of this fabled city were like a mirage amid the flowering gardens crisscrossed with irrigation canals, and the holy tombs of Islam lay more thickly here than anywhere else in the world. Bagdad was no longer the city of the caliphs, for after the days of the great Imam the Mongols had looted and burned it more than once. Yet in my eyes it seemed rich and splendid, and with all the tales of Arabia in my thoughts I rode in through the city gates preceded by runners who hastened to inform the Grand Vizier of our coming.
As we slowly crossed the empty, arcaded market place I saw in the middle a gallows guarded by janissaries, from which hung the body of a bearded man. The unexpected sight aroused my curiosity; I rode nearer and to my amazement recognized that face, now blue in death, and the well-known shabby kaftan with its ink-stained sleeves.
“Allah is Allah!” I exclaimed. “Is this not the body of Defterdar Iskender-tseleb? How comes it that this man-the richest, noblest, and most learned in the Ottoman Empire-hangs on this gallows like the meanest malefactor? Could he not at least have been given the green silken noose, so that in the name of the Compassionate he might have taken his own life in the privacy of his room?”
Some of the high court officials who had journeyed with me in obedience to Ibrahim’s summons hid their faces, turned their horses, and rode back to the gates, determined to leave the city without delay. The janissaries guarding the gibbet said fiercely, “It is all the fault of the accursed Grand Vizier. The Sultan is innocent, and we never begged this honor. Who can doubt now that Ibrahim is plotting against the Ottoman Empire? The mufti proclaimed a jatwa entitling us to plunder these heretics of their possessions and to sell them into slavery. But Seraskier Ibrahim, that winebibber and blasphemer, denies us our right to pillage. We should like to know how much the merchants have paid him for that. Wages cannot compensate for this injustice and serve only to show that Grand Vizier Ibrahim is suffering from a tender conscience.”
One could sympathize with the janissaries if their tale was true. IskcnAcr-tseleb’s wealth, piety, and pure Turkish origins had won him great regard throughout the Ottoman Empire, so that indeed it can have been no pleasure to stand sentinel over his dangling corpse. I rode on, oppressed by dark forebodings. At the palace chosen by the Grand Vizier for his headquarters I was received with the greatest suspicion; my clothes were repeatedly searched by the guards, who even ripped up the seams of my kaftan in search of poison and hidden weapons. From this I realized the state of terror prevailing in Bagdad. When at length I was led by the elbow into the presence of the Grand Vizier, I found him too greatly agitated to keep still. He was pacing up and down the marble room, his handsome features were puffy and his eyes bloodshot with strain and lack of sleep. His usually well-kept nails were bitten, and he paused often to take a draught of spiced wine. At the sight of me he forgot all his dignity and hurried forward to embrace me. He dismissed the guards and cried, “At last I behold one known and trusted face among the traitors! Blessed be your coming, Michael el-Hakim, for never did I stand in such need of a clearsighted, impartial friend.”
As coolly and dispassionately as he could he gave me a brief account of the progress of the campaign since the departure from Aleppo, and as I thought the matter over I saw that Ibrahim was in possession of so many proofs of Iskender-tseleb’s treachery as to leave no room for doubt. Against the Seraskier’s will, Iskender had been appointed kehaya, or steward, of the army and, blinded by his hatred of the Grand Vizier, he had acted throughout the campaign against the best interests of the troops. Not until the outset of the terrible winter march from Tabriz to Bagdad was Ibrahim able to persuade the Sultan to dismiss the Defterdar from his post as kehaya, and then it was too late, for when snow set in and floods came and roads were transformed into bottomless swamps, the wretched state of the supplies and equipment was revealed, as also the confusion and disorder brought about by secret agents. The Grand Vizier did not hesitate to cast the blame on Iskender-tseleb both for the ruinous condition of the baggage wagons and for the lack of forage, as a result of which the draft animals dropped from exhaustion. The Kehaya’s reconnaissance and route planning had been most imperfect; indeed, he seemed to have chosen the worst roads in order to undermine the morale of the troops and to incite them to revolt against the Seraskier.
“Vanity led me to follow his deceitful counsels and march on Tabriz without waiting for the Sultan to join me, for it would have been a triumph if I could have defeated the Shah unaided,” said Ibrahim candidly. “All too late I realized that Iskender’s encouragement was born of his secret wish to destroy me and discredit me in the eyes of my lord and sovereign. I now have proof that the Defterdar was in secret communication with the Persians throughout the whole march and gave them all needful information as to our routes and objectives, so that they were able to withdraw in time and avoid a pitched battle. If that is not treachery, tell me what is! In the end it was either his head or mine. Yet since his execution I’ve been oppressed by a feeling of impotence. I feel caught in a net. My head is at stake, and there is no one whom I can trust.”