Mirmah bent down, stuck her finger in Mustafa ben-Nakir’s mouth and felt his pearly teeth. I snatched her up, thrust her into the arms of the onbash, and ordered him to take her out of my sight. Mirmah shrieked, scratched, and kicked, but the men took her away by force and locked her into Giulia’s room. For a time she screamed and kicked at the door and smashed her mother’s valuable ornaments to pieces; then I think she fell asleep on Giulia’s bed, for presently we heard no more.
I left the janissaries to bury the ravaged body of my friend Mustafa ben-Nakir, rewarding them with the last gold pieces in my purse. The sight had filled me with such nausea that I could not stay to help them, but was compelled to go in and lie upon my bed.
After lying there for some hours and staring motionless at the ceiling I broke the fast of Ramadan, drank a cup of wine, and tried to eat, but found I could not swallow a mouthful. Soon I saw a magnificently ornamented boat gliding in toward the shore, and feeling strengthened by the wine I went down to receive my guests. The grateful janissaries had scrubbed the marble clean of all the blood. I fancy Mustafa ben- Nakir had been alive when he was thrown there and had bled copiously before he died. But now all was clean and neat and fit to receive the Seraglio barge with its silken awning. So incurably vain is human nature that I could not help feeling flattered as I beheld, besides the three red-clad deaf-mutes, the Kislar-Aga himself comfortably reclining in the stern. This mark of honor was enough to make me feel a man of consequence in the Ottoman Empire.
With him was Giulia and her inseparable Alberto, but without so much as a glance at them I bowed low before the Kislar-Aga and touched brow and ground with my finger tips. Then I helped my distinguished guest from the boat. The deaf-mutes followed him on noiseless feet. When all were ashore I made a becoming speech of welcome and acknowledgment of the high honor he did me in coming to supervise the execution of the Sultan’s commands, and regretted that because of Ramadan I could not offer him so much as a cup of water.
In his gracious reply he begged me to bear him no malice for the melancholy task with which he had been entrusted, and to express any wishes I might have before this task was carried out. I replied that I would gladly speak with my wife in private on certain household affairs. To this he assented, and when I had quietly placed a bowl of sherbet and a dish of sweetmeats beside him-leaving it to him and Allah between them to determine his attitude to the fast-I walked upstairs. Giulia followed me hesitantly, and close behind her as a shadow came the yellow-clad Alberto, who narrowly watched my every movement. Having assured herself that Mirmah was safely sleeping she turned to me. Inquisitive even at the last I asked her, “Has anything unusual happened at the Seraglio?”
“The Sultan woke late,” she answered absently, “and after very many prayers he commanded that all gold and silver plate be taken to the treasury and turned into minted coin. Henceforth he means to eat from platters of copper and drink from earthenware mugs. The whole city is to live by the law of the Koran, he says. All the afternoon he has been studying Sinan the Builder’s plans for the greatest mosque ever designed. It is to have ten minarets and the Sultan will build his tomb there.”
She paused and looked at me with those eyes of different colors; then with an air of innocence she asked, “Have you not seen your friend Mustafa ben-Nakir? He could tell you more than I can of the secrets of the Seraglio.”
“So that was why they tore his tongue out,” I said coolly. “You may be easy about him, Giulia. He is at rest in his grave. Have you no more news?”
Giulia, enraged at my seeming indifference, sneered, “Are you so inquisitive? Well, it was to tell you everything that I returned. It may amuse you to know that your friend Mustafa ben-Nakir revealed Ibrahim’s plans to murder the Sultan and seize power by bribing the janissaries. Suleiman no longer dared be alone with his dear friend; the mutes stood hidden behind the curtain while Sultana Khurrem and I watched through a hidden opening in the wall. They had little to say to one another, those two old friends. The Grand Vizier played his violin with unusual fire, and immediately after the meal the Sultan took a strong sleeping draught. No sooner was he asleep than Sultana Khurrem began taunting Ibrahim from behind the lattice and telling him of what Mustafa ben-Nakir had done. The Grand Vizier flew into a passion and told her his innermost thoughts about her. To put an end to this she beckoned the mutes to do their work. But he was so strong that contrary to custom the mutes had to inflict many deep wounds before they could master him enough to get the noose about his neck. We both saw how the blood splashed the walls of the room. The Sultan was carried elsewhere to have his sleep out undisturbed. Sultana Khurrem took the square seal from Ibrahim’s neck and had his body carried out to the Gateway of Peace. But the door of that bloody room was sealed at Khurrem’s orders by the Sultan’s seal, to remain forever a reminder of what can happen to an overambitious man.”
“And Mustafa ben-Nakir?”
Giulia’s face flushed deeply; she quivered almost voluptuously and pressed against Alberto as she replied, “Sultana Khurrem is capricious and becomes much excited by the sight of blood. I may not speak of all that happened, but I fancy that Mustafa was not entirely disappointed. He remained long alone with her, but in the morning when a black thread could once more be distinguished from a white she sent him away lest he compromise her good name. But the trusty eunuchs found him in the forbidden garden and castrated him at once. They did a great deal more to him by means of short, keen knives, as is customary in the harem, and I believe that not even at Ibrahim’s death did Sultana Khurrem laugh so cooing a laugh as when she witnessed Mustafa’s fate. He heard it and raised his face to look upon her once more before they put out his eyes.”
“I know, I know. You need say no more of that. But dusk is falling and it is time to tell me of yourself, dear Giulia. Tell me what sort of woman you are and why I have never pleased you-why it is you bear me so bitter a hatred.”
Giulia’s voice sank to a whisper and her whole body shook as she replied, “Last night I learned something new, Michael, though I thought I knew it all. It is for that alone that I’ve returned, for I know now-though you can never understand-what exquisite pleasure I shall find in watching the silken noose drawn tight about your throat. I hope you will do me one last service and struggle hard against the mutes, weakling though you are. If sleep is death’s brother, then for a chosen few voluptuous pleasure is its twin! This the Sultana has taught me, and my only regret is that I did not know it sooner; though at times when Alberto thrashed me I seemed to guess at something of the kind.”
“What do I care about Alberto? I have long known that Mirmah is not my daughter, though I never cared to think of that too often. Also I loved you very dearly, desperately though I fought against my love when once I knew what you were. Answer me one question. Have you ever, even for a short time, truly loved me? That is all I want to hear from you now, Giulia-only that.”