As we sat drinking wine together, agitated servants in gilded helmets hurried in to tell us that the Sultan had woken from his midday rest and seemed out of his mind. He was screaming and tearing at his breast and no one could quiet him. Together Ibrahim and I raced to the Sultan’s bedchamber, where we found him standing in the middle of the floor staring into space. His face was wet with sweat, and he trembled all over. The sight of the Grand Vizier seemed to bring him to himself; he wiped his face and dismissed all anxious questions with the words, “I had a bad dream.”
His nightmare had been so terrible that he refused to speak of it, and the Grand Vizier proposed that they should visit the baths together. Because of their many cares and anxieties they had both drunk too much and so become a prey to nightmares and even waking illusions. But the Sultan was plunged in his own thoughts; his eyes were lowered and he would not look the Grand Vizier in the face.
The execution of Iskender-£re/e£, which had caused such an uproar in Bagdad, nevertheless cleared the air and made plain to everyone who was master. One of its results was to bring about a shuffle of appointments by which some found themselves a rung higher in the hierarchy. These had every reason to feel grateful to the Grand Vizier. Moreover the newly conquered provinces in Persia offered new and profitable posts. By means of these and other measures superficial order was restored, and there were even cheers to be heard when the Sultan and the Grand Vizier together rode to the mosque or to the holy tombs in the neighborhood of the city.
In the course of these devotional exercises the Sultan was always greatly saddened by the fact that Shiites had long since destroyed the tomb of the founder of Sunna, the wise Abu-Hanif, and in their heretic frenzy had even burned his holy bones, so that no orthodox Sun- nite had since then been able to pay homage to the greatest saint of the true path.
Though discontent in the army was temporarily allayed, the Grand Vizier thought with some uneasiness of the coming spring and the renewed campaigns against Persia. He engaged a learned historian to chronicle the course of events, and having thus ensured a fair and impartial record he questioned the learned man as to previous campaigns, constantly reverting to the story of Eiup, the Prophet’s stand- ard-bearer, and demanding to know every detail of his life. Eiup had died a hero’s death before the impregnable walls of Constantinople, and hundreds of years later his sacred bones were mysteriously found in the forgotten grave-a discovery that fired the janissaries of Muhammed the Conqueror at the final victorious assault on Constantinople. There was a strange light in Ibrahim’s eyes as he said to me, “Such another find would be very welcome just now, to inspire the troops with courage and enthusiasm. Yet I fear the days of miracles are past.”
I am resolved to express no opinion about what followed. According to a secret tradition handed down among the descendants of one of the guards of Abu-Hanif’s tomb, this guard rejected the Shiite heresy, rescued the saint’s remains, and buried them elsewhere, replacing them by those of a heretic. These false bones had afterward been burned, but the sacred relics of the great teacher were in safekeeping somewhere within the walls of Bagdad.
This story was told, for a consideration, to one of the Sultan’s attendants by a direct descendant of the watchman. The attendant related it to the Grand Vizier, who commanded a certain devout and learned man named Tashkun to seek out the resting place of the bones.
After much research and diligent peering among the ruins, Tashkun ordered his men to dig up the floor of a certain dilapidated house. An ancient vault was revealed, through one of whose walls came a heavenly fragrance of musk. Hearing of this discovery, the Grand Vizier at once hastened to the spot and with his own hands pulled away a few stones, leaving a gap large enough to crawl through. Thus the resting place of the great Imam was discovered and its sanctity vouched for by the mysterious fragrance. An express messenger was sent to the Sultan, who came in haste and descended into the tomb. The army could now see for themselves that by the grace of Allah, Ibrahim and Suleiman had rediscovered the long-lost but miraculously preserved remains. The Sultan spent nearly a day and a night at the tomb in prayer and fasting, and his fervor infected the troops; even the dullest could see that Abu-Hanif hoped for the uprooting of the Shiite heresy, so that the path of Sunna, which he had founded, might take the place of honor in every country of Islam.
I naturally visited the tomb myself and saw the yellow-brown skull and the skeleton in its rotting shroud, and I was able to satisfy myself that these remains gave out the same scent that I remembered from my boyhood when, as a reward for scholarship, I was allowed to help at the enshrining of holy Hemming’s bones in Abo cathedral. Nevertheless this strange and timely discovery caused me some distress of mind, and at a convenient moment I inquired of the Grand Vizier how it had come about. He was far from being a devout man. Was it deliberate deception, I asked him, or some diabolical illusion?
Grand Vizier Ibrahim looked upon me with shining eyes, and his whole being seemed purified by his prayer and fasting as in a firm and convincing tone he replied, “Believe me or not, Michael, the discovery of those bones was the greatest surprise of my life. I had planned to deceive and with the help of my most faithful dervishes I buried some bones of suitable holiness for pious, credulous old Tashkun to find. No doubt they lie hidden to this day. I was far more amazed than Tashkun when thanks to his drearns and other visions he actually found Abu-Hanif’s tomb. Surely if such things can befall me, the star of my fortune cannot fail to reach the zenith.”
But the suspicions of the Seraglio had poisoned my mind, and his words did not convince me.
The discovery of Abu-Hanif’s holy bones eclipsed all unpleasant or troublesome memories, and the army spent the remainder of the winter in feasting and merrymaking. With the coming of spring the Grand Vizier grew more serene. His despair melted away and gave place to an exhilarated, joyful mood. Nothing seemed impossible, and the whole world witnessed his triumphs. He had sent word to Venice and Vienna of the capture of Bagdad, and even now the French ambassador with a brilliant retinue was on his way with felicitations and proposals for an alliance. Ibrahim seemed to have attained the climax of his fame and glory; nevertheless he was not blinded by it, and before I left that beautiful city he sent for me to give me my final instructions.
“I’ve had enough of treachery and in future I will show no mercy to any who plot against me. You must go to Khaireddin in Tunis, and if you value your head keep him from succumbing to the blandishments of either the Seraglio or the Emperor; let him remember his debt to me. It was not to help him extend his own kingdom that I made him Kapudan-pasha, and he must now keep Doria and the Emperor busy at sea so that I need not give a thought to what goes on behind my back while I’m waging war in Persia. Impress this on him, or he may lose his horsehair switches as suddenly as he came by them.”
In proof of his favor and his continued trust he bestowed such princely gifts upon me as to surpass my wildest hopes. From them I gained some notion of the sums the Bagdad merchants must have paid him for protection; from them also I glimpsed the glorious future awaiting me if fortune continued to smile upon him and I proved myself worthy of his trust.
I came home to find Giulia in a state of agitation.