I could not forbear smiling at the singular pretext he had chosen, but Mustafa ben-Nakir looked at me with the utmost gravity and said, “You’re a man of perception, Michael el-Hakim, yet even reasoned conclusions may lead one astray. My friend Suleiman, unlike most men, is under no necessity of lying. Were it gold he coveted, he would find more than enough of it in Egypt. As for military glory, he rates it about as highly as the bodily function of which he has so eloquently spoken. But I read in your eyes that you don’t believe him, from which we must regretfully infer that no one in the Seraglio will believe him either-perhaps not the Grand Vizier himself.”
Suleiman the eunuch wheezily interposed, “That is why we need your advice, Michael el-Hakim. And besides this, the sea pashas approve no fleets but their own. The money, vessels, and materials secretly offered me by the Signoria only increase the delicacy of the matter. In short, I cannot submit my plans to any but the Grand Vizier himself. You must convince him that there is nothing wrong in what I ask. Let him then persuade the Sultan to remit, say, a third of the annual tribute from Egypt for the next three years. With that sum I can build the Red Sea fleet. Warships are the most expensive toys ever invented, and I should be loath to impose extra taxes on Egypt. At the same time it would be beneath the Sultan’s dignity to allow his fleet to be paid for entirely by foreign powers.”
Twist and turn the matter as I would, I could only conclude that Suleiman was sincere and that apart from his digestion, solicitude for the Sultan alone induced him to put forward these proposals, so as to bring the vast profits of the spice trade once more under the Sultan’s control. Mustafa ben-Nakir watched my expression narrowly and said, “You must see that Suleiman-pasha cannot propose this of himself. After seeming opposition to the plan he will give in and build the fleet, and take it to India if the Sultan so commands. Michael, here is the opportunity of your life. If you succeed and have a share in this enterprise from the beginning, the princes of the West will one day envy you your riches.”
Suleiman stretched his fat legs and curled his toes luxuriously, saying, “I have few passions, but I love to collect human beings. I love to see the varied forms in which Allah molds his dust, to inspire it with the breath of his nostrils. I have taken a fancy to your anxious eyes, Michael el-Hakim, and marvel at the deep line so prematurely drawn between your brows. You will ever be welcome to Cairo as my guest, and the time may come when you’ll be glad of a refuge and a protector beyond the range of the Sultan’s artillery. Victory and defeat are in the hands of Allah, and who knows what the morrow may bring?”
Indian affairs so captured my imagination that I did all I could to secure Ibrahim’s support for Suleiman’s plan. And although because of the impending war the Seraskier had many other things on his mind, he did not fail to mention the matter to the Sultan, who secretly commanded Suleiman the eunuch to build his fleet, ostensibly to defend the Red Sea against the ever more daring raids of Portuguese pirates. But for this the Sultan would accept no help from Venice.
Once again I begin a new book, and this time in the name of Allah, the Merciful and Compassionate. For my eighth book will show how the worm of decay was already nibbling at the fairest of blossoms, and perhaps also poisoning my own poor renegade’s heart.
BOOK 8.
THERE is but little to tell of the Sultan’s next campaign. It lasted from spring to autumn of the Christian year 1532, and came to nothing. Yet the march was eased by wise planning and perfect weather; strict discipline was maintained among the troops, and the three hundred pieces of artillery followed the marching columns without mishap. No general could have hoped for better conditions. But those who followed the progress on their maps noted with surprise that it slackened more and more as summer advanced. From midsummer onward, it became clear to the least experienced observer that indecision was delaying the march, until at last the whole of that gigantic army slowed to a halt and camped during August and September before the insignificant fortress of Guns.
Advocates of peace in the West made the most of this period of delay and doubt. Envoys from the Persian governor of Bagdad and from the Prince of Basra brought conciliatory messages to the Sultan, and their arrival seemed timed to show that at the most favorable moment for energetic action in the East the Seraskier had sent the army away to make needless and unprofitable war on the Emperor. Little wonder then that the Sultan paused so hesitantly before Guns, embittered by its stubborn resistance, yet for appearances’ sake he was compelled to persevere. “Instead of proceeding to Vienna, however, he marched from Guns toward imperial Carinthia, and his vanguard had reached the gates of Graz before he felt justified by the lateness of the season in beginning his homeward march. And though the grisly trail of slaughter left by his forces struck terror to the hearts of Christians everywhere, yet this great enterprise turned out to be nothing but a disorderly, planless raid, bringing Suleiman no honor and causing trouble in his empire that was out of all proportion to the result.
The only people to profit by this campaign were the Protestant princes of Germany, whom it enabled to make a pact with the Emperor at Augsburg. This for the time being ensured their religious freedom. Thanks to the pact Charles was even able to induce Luther to preach in favor of a united crusade against the Turks. Thus Grand Vizier Ibrahim’s hopes fell to the ground, and it became clear that yet again the Christians had made shameless use of their secret commerce with the Porte to secure concessions from the Emperor for their own ends.
But I have not yet mentioned the hidden but decisive reason for the Sultan’s strange hesitation before the walls of Guns. At the opening of the spring offensive, a fleet of seventy sail had put to sea to defend the coasts of Greece. Early in August, on almost the very day that Ibrahim pitched his pavilion before Guns, this fleet was sighted by the combined navies of the Emperor, the Pope, and the Knights of St. John, as they lay at anchor in Preveza Bay. At the same moment a Venetian fleet of forty war galleys was seen rapidly approaching; these neutral vessels anchored at a convenient distance to await developments. It is my belief that the hot, windless days of August, 1532, decided the fate of the world for centuries to come. The Emperor’s navy was commanded by Andrea Doria, undoubtedly the greatest admiral of all time, whom Charles had made Prince of Malfi. The commander of the Venetian fleet was Vincenzo Capello, who was strictly bound by the secret instructions of the Signoria. But the names of the Turkish sea pashas I shall not mention. I was informed of their shameful conduct by Mustafa ben-Nakir, who was eyewitness to these events.
Like his sovereign, Doria was a cautious man who would never give battle unless he were certain of winning. Perhaps he considered the Turkish war galleys too dangerous, although he numbered among his vessels the terrible carrack, that marvel of the seas-a floating fortress so lofty that her serried cannon could fire over the War galleys that commonly preceded her. Doria, then, did not attack, but secretly boarded the Venetian flagship to beg the commander to unite his force with the rest. No Mussulman fleet in the world could withstand them then, he said; they could proceed unhindered over the Aegean to the