His hearers expressed courteous appreciation, but no more, their self- respect as poets not permitting them to fawn even on the Sultan where their art was concerned. They raised their goblets to Muhub and praised him until a frank smile of delight overspread the Sultan’s pallid face. But Baki, the young and unabashed, added, “With a liberal hand Muhub the poet has cast pearls and gold before us, and to listen now to anything inferior would be most unbecoming. But if anyone of us can play an instrument we might in that manner venture to compete further with the incomparable Muhub.”
I fancy that all he meant by this flowery speech was that he could bear no more of the Sultan’s stilted poems and hoped that Ibrahim would pick up his famous violin. It was not to be expected, however, that Suleiman should catch the fine irony of Baki’s remark. He eagerly assented and begged Ibrahim to play. None of us had reason to regret it, for when Ibrahim, having first drunk a little wine, filled the room with his marvelous music, all the passion, joy, and longing of our fleeting lives sang to us in every cadence, until I trembled and could not restrain my tears. Even Baki wept aloud.
I need speak no more of that night. It passed away in a sedate and seemly manner, and when the guests became unduly drunk the Grand Vizier took his violin again to quieten them with his playing. No one fell asleep but Muxad-tseleb, who indeed understood little of music. The rest of us were in the gayest possible mood, and when the stars began to pale we carried Murad-tseleb out and dropped him into the fishpond to sober him, Baki holding his head above water by the beard. The keeper of the fish, roused by the shouts and splashings, dashed from his hut in only his loincloth, to throw stones and curse us with the wild curses of his homeland, until we took to our heels and lost our slippers in the flower beds. Muhub the poet even lost his turban, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks.
But now in the gray light of dawn the mutes grew uneasy at their lord’s long absence and knocked upon the door. At the sight of these two dark-skinned giants we turned suddenly very sober, as if under a cold shower. Still breathless from the chase and soiled with earth from the flower beds, Muhub the poet scrambled into his carrying chair, and with great difficulty dragged the Grand Vizier in beside him.
Sultan Suleiman visited my home about a dozen times, and met there not only poets and wise dervishes but also French and Spanish sea captains and well-informed adventurers, most of whom had not the slightest idea who he was. In the presence of foreigners and unbelievers he remained silently in the shadows and was content to listen carefully to what they had to say, putting in a question from time to time about life and conditions in European countries.
Thus it was that I came to know Sultan Suleiman, called by Christians the Magnificent, though his own people named him merely the Lawgiver. No one is a prophet in his own country. And the better I knew him, the less he charmed me; the melancholy that held him prisoner made him wearisome company. With all his faults Ibrahim remained a man among men, whereas the Sultan withdrew himself into his secret solitude, seemingly as remote from his fellow creatures as heaven is from earth.
Perhaps it was this that caused him suffering and overwhelmed him at times with that restless, gnawing fear. Because of the suspicions of his father he had lived for much of his youth in the shadow of a lurking death, when every night he lay tensely awaiting the coming of the mutes. It seemed to me that this unnaturally passionate friendship for the Grand Vizier had something in it of compulsion, as if by showering favors upon Ibrahim and investing him with limitless power he sought to convince himself that there was at least one man in the world whom he could trust.
The longer I think about Sultan Suleiman the more clearly do I perceive how little I know of his inner nature and thoughts. As lawgiver he made life easier and pleasanter for his subjects than it had formerly been-certainly better than it was in Christendom. His own slaves were the exception, for although they were free to essay the steep ladder to power they never knew whether a horsehair switch or a silken noose awaited them at the top.
My own position as the Grand Vizier’s confidant was singular. As a rule I would visit him after dark, entering the palace by a side door or through the servants’ entrance. Yet it was common knowledge in the Seraglio that petitions and reports could be most rapidly conveyed to the Grand Vizier through me. It was a mystery to everyone therefore how my wife Giulia could come and go in the harem as freely as if she lived there, how she could enjoy the Sultana’s favor, foretell the future for her and her ladies, make purchases for them in the bazaar, and-no doubt for a handsome consideration-obtain audiences with the Sultana for certain wealthy Greek and Jewish women.
Little wonder that the strangest stories about me began circulating in the Seraglio and the foreign quarter. Sometimes my influence was exaggerated, sometimes I was said to be harmless because I frequented poets and learned dervishes. When I began to receive Christian adventurers in my house my fame spread to the West and even as far as the Imperial Court. The Christians who visited me came either on secret missions, or to investigate the chances of entering the Sultan’s service, or again to establish profitable business connections in Istanbul. More than once 1 was able to do these men substantial services, and it was told of me that although I accepted presents the information I gave was strictly accurate.
It was of course natural for me to accept presents from both friends and enemies, as did every influential man in the Seraglio, for without offering them no suppliant could ever dream of gaining an audience. It was by no means an official’s salary that determined his position or the regard in which he was held, and the presents that his appointment brought him constituted by far the greater part of his regular income. The Grand Vizier himself accepted gifts, even from King Ferdinand’s envoys, these presentations being openly made and regarded merely as a courteous acknowledgment of his high station.
Because of my special duties I received many presents in secret, though for my own sake I rendered an accurate account of these to the Grand Vizier. This the givers had no notion of, and because I was apparently so easy to bribe I earned a bad reputation among Christians, who fancied that their gifts were the price of the favors done them. But thanks to Ibrahim’s liberality my conscience remained clear and I never succumbed to the temptation of deceiving him.
I may mention that the Christians threw their money about very foolishly in seeking to steer Ottoman politics in a direction favorable to themselves, and in return were often kept dangling with empty words and fair promises. Not until they were on their way home would it dawn on them to what extent the wool had been pulled over their eyes. Official ambassadors were as a rule royally received. Throughout their stay in Istanbul they were attended by a brilliant suite and a special guard of janissaries; houses and servants were assigned to them and as much as twenty ducats daily allowed them for subsistence, and they were frequently received in audience by the Grand Vizier, who was a master of procrastination.
At long last the envoys would be ushered into the golden-colonnaded chamber of the Divan, though not until they had first been dazzled by a display in the janissaries’ courtyard. Here elephants with gilded tusks were to be seen, and the magnificent procession of the viziers and their retinue. Dazed and bewildered by these splendors they found themselves bowing before the Sultan-a sultan seated upon a pearl- incrusted throne. With every breath the thousand jewels of his golden robe winked and flashed, and the ambassadors soon perceived how highly they were honored in being permitted to kiss that jeweled hand and listen to the meaningless compliments with which Suleiman was pleased to greet them. Throughout their stay in Istanbul they had felt entangled in the meshes of an invisible net; at best all they received was a signed letter from the Sultan to take home with them, and they had soon to confess that the document was worth no more than the embroidered purse in which it lay.