Mika Waltari - The Wanderer

“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.”

Giulia hesitated and turned a frightened glance toward Alberto’s expressionless face. Then she said quickly, “No, I have never really loved you-never. At least not after I found the man who could master me. This you never understood, though often I angered you to make you behave like a man and beat me. Ah, Michael, as a husband you’ve been worse than a eunuch.”

She was now such a stranger to me that I did not even hate her. This strangeness terrified me more than all else, and I could not conceive how I had ever kissed her limbs and her false lips, and with tears. At last in a tremulous voice I said, “The sun is setting and soon the stars will come out. Forgive me then, Giulia, for having spoiled your life and wearied you so long. No doubt it is partly my fault that during our life together you have been turned into a witch-a wild beast incapable of mercy. In my madness I fancied that deep love meant warmth and kindness between two people, and some mutual solace in the hideous loneliness that is the lot of each one of us. I don’t blame you, Giulia. The mistake was mine and I blame only myself.”

Giulia stared at me without grasping a word of what I was saying. I might have been speaking an unknown language. As I had no wish to delight her by displaying my terror of death, I straightened my trembling body and with head erect descended the stairs without giving her a glance. I believe I never even stammered as in the name of the Merciful and Compassionate I begged the Kislar-Aga respectfully to be prompt in the execution of his task. He started from his pleasant snooze, regarded me benignly, and clapped his fat hands. The three mutes at once entered the room, the first of them bearing beneath his arm a bundle that I supposed to contain the necessary black kaftan. I could not but feel some curiosity as to the color of the silken noose. For the green I could not dare to hope, but even the red would have been a mark of high favor, for the salary I received entitled me to no more than the modest yellow cord.

But when the mute unfolded the bundle I was surprised to see only a large leather sack which he spread out upon the floor. At a sign from the Kislar-Aga he took out a hempen rope and while the other two seized Alberto firmly by the arms, he slipped the loop over die slave’s head from behind and strangled him so swiftly and deftly that he had no time to realize what was happening. Alberto had fallen lifeless with a swollen and distorted face before Giulia had taken it in. Then she sprang on the kneeling eunuch like a cat, but his comrades knew their business. They caught her arms and twisted them behind her, holding her fast. She kicked, howled, and tossed her head from side to side, her eyes bloodshot with fury. The Kislar-Aga surveyed her with his head on one side, as if deriving pleasure from her anguish.

To me he said courteously, “Forgive me, slave Michael. By command of my sovereign lady I am to see that your wife is strangled, after which she will be sewn into a leather sack and thrown into the Marmara. Sultana Khurrem is as you know a devout lady and abominates the indecencies of which your wife Giulia has so repeatedly been guilty. Only recently did she learn how criminally Giulia abused her confidence by disguising her lover as a eunuch so as to take him with her into the forbidden apartments of the Seraglio. Naturally you are guiltless of this and I share your deep sorrow, but so shameful an offense must be punished and I can assure you that in future the noble Sultana Khurrem will be more discriminating in her choice of company.”

Giulia had ceased her outcry and was now listening incredulously to his quiet speech. Froth appeared at the corners of her mouth as she screamed, “Are you out of your mind, Kislar-Aga? You shall pay for this with your head. I know too much about you and your secret dealings with the Seraglio physicians.”

“Quite so,” said the Kislar-Aga, and his fat, pale face was stony. “You know too much, you foolish woman. It is for that reason that

Sultana Khurrem has resolved to render you harmless. You should have understood that long ago-you should have seen it in the sand!”

With that he had had enough of words. Once more he gave a sign, the noose was slipped about Giulia’s throat and drawn tight, so that her wild shriek was cut short. Trembling all over I turned away my head, unwilling to see those eyes fade in death. Her body was then lashed to Alberto’s and both were pushed into the sack, which was quickly sewn up. When at last the mutes had departed with their burden I said in astonishment, “How dare they leave us alone together? I might have a weapon upon me and in my terror of death do you an injury. And why put off the inevitable any longer, for I suppose that my fate at your hands was preordained before my birth, noble Kislar- Aga.”

He stroked his bulging chin and his eyes were cold as steel as he replied, “I have executed the Sultana’s orders as confirmed by the Sultan. You also were to have been strangled, but here matters took an unexpected turn. The Sultan, noble man, greatly admires loyalty and daring, though he does not care to speak his mind to the Sultana. Perhaps too he stands just now in special need of acquiring merit. Therefore he commanded me secretly, without Sultana Khurrem’s knowledge, to spare you, because you risked your life to give Grand Vizier Ibrahim an honorable burial. The city was in so disturbed a state that you might have been torn in pieces for it. I may tell you in confidence that your action has greatly healed and solaced his heart. Yet, as you will understand, he is compelled to banish you from the city, that the Sultana may never learn of your reprieve. He is once more a prey to profound melancholy and needs the consolation of white arms and a soft embrace. But you have placed me in a grave dilemma, Michael el-Hakim. I am bound to obey the Sultan’s express command, yet I greatly fear the wrath of Sultana Khurrem. Whither will you go, Michael?”