Mika Waltari - The Wanderer

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A novel of passion and intrigue in the Holy Wars of the XVI century, by the author of The Egyptian, The Etruscan, and The Secret of the Kingdom. From the back cover: "Had I – Michael of Finlandia – but known this, I would never have saved her from the lust of the Moslem pirates. Nor would I ever have married her. But at first I did not know. After we became slaves of Suleiman the Magnificent, it took all my quick wits just to keep us alive. All my quick wits, and my brother's skill with guns, and Giulia's gift of prophecy. So we rose to wealth and power. And then, fascinated by her magnetic eyes and her loving ways, I set out to follow the Crescent, leaving her behind to intrigue in the sultan's harem. And to bring about my undoing."

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When I expostulated with Abu for teasing Andy he looked at me in wonder, and said, “Why deny my neighbors a little innocent fun? Besides, it’s good for your brother, for otherwise he’d only sit and sulk after a defeat, until he got cramps in the stomach. As it is, he can work off his fury on me and so regain his good fighting humor.”

This was true, for after such outbreaks Andy quickly cooled, and laughed at Abu for a silly old fool.

Abu el-Kasim then persuaded him to lie full length on a bench, and massaged his arms and legs, oiled his massive body and rubbed healing salves into his bruises. Now that Andy had adopted the Moslem faith he had to have a new name, and Abu el-Kasim called him Antar, after the great hero of the Arabian tales. In the bazaar he so loudly praised his strength and skill as to arouse curiosity and many people gathered behind the mosque to watch him wrestle. At least once a week Abu el-Kasim mounted on Andy’s shoulders and rode thus to the market place, issuing loud challenges to all and sundry to try a fall with the invincible Antar. There Andy stood up naked save for a pair of leather breeches reaching to the knee, while Abu rubbed him with oil and loudly eulogized his muscles. Among the loiterers on the shady side of the market place, and under the colonnade of the mosque, there were always some disengaged gureshes, each of whom had a patron or master who fed him and wagered money on him. Such wagers were not held to be gambling, which is forbidden by the Koran, since the result was determined not by chance but by the strength and skill of the wrestlers.

These patrons were the idle sons of rich merchants and shipowners, whose forebears had built up their fortunes by piracy. But since Selim ben-Hafs, through fear of the great Sultan, had allied himself with the Spaniards, piracy had ceased, and so these young men were without an occupation. They passed their days at the baths and their nights in secret wine drinking in company with dancing girls. They sought to stimulate their jaded senses by patronizing this sport. Many of the wrestlers were rough fellows who had chosen this way of life from laziness. At times, when they found themselves outmatched, they were apt to sink their teeth in an opponent’s ear and tear it off. Therefore Andy had to be on his guard, and despite his lamentations and references to Samson’s disastrous fate, Abu shaved his head so that no adversary could grasp him by the hair.

When first I went with Andy and Abu el-Kasim to the market place I was horrified at the sight of these fearful wrestlers, half naked and gleaming with sweat, as they made themselves supple by trying holds on one another, and forcing one another to the ground. They were big, fat men with bulging muscles, and I fancy any one of them could have cracked my ribs with a poke of his forefinger.

But Abu el-Kasim made a great commotion, chattering like a monkey and screaming, “Is there anyone here who dares wrestle with the invincible Antar? His knees are as the pillars in the mosque and his trunk is a very tower. He was bred among idolaters in a land far to the north, and is hardened by the snow and ice that covers the country all the year round-ice, which you idlers know only as fragments in your sherbet.”

After continuing thus for some time he climbed down from Andy’s shoulders, spread a piece of cloth upon the ground and threw a square silver coin upon it as a reward to the winner, crying aloud to Allah to witness his liberality. This provoked a roar of laughter which brought others running to the scene, while the wealthy patrons held their sides and cried, “You seem to have little faith in your Antar-and no wonder. He looks as lumbering as an ox.”

But the curious began throwing coins onto the cloth until a little heap of silver lay there, and even a small gold coin or two. The wrestlers looked critically from the pile of money to Andy and back again, gathered in a ring with their hands on one another’s shoulders and chattered, until one of them undertook a “good” bout with Andy. In “good” wrestling, the opponents were not to inflict willful and lasting injury on one another, whereas in “hard” wrestling everything was allowed. In “hard” bouts men were apt to lose an eye or an ear, and professional wrestlers did not willingly engage in them.

Andy and his adversary now tackled one another, and Andy, putting into practice the holds that Mussuf the Negro had taught him, flung his man over his shoulder to the ground with a resounding thud. To encourage the victim the bystanders flung more money onto the cloth, but Andy succeeded in throwing three men in succession-no mean feat for a beginner. But with the fourth he had the worst of it, for after a prolonged struggle his foot slipped and he fell, so that his opponent could get an arm under his shoulder and over the back of his neck and force him down.

Abu el-Kasim uttered shrieks of anguish and wept as if he had lost a great sum of money instead of the one silver coin he had thrown onto the cloth. But Andy rubbed his aching neck and said, “I only hope Mussuf taught me right; I can’t stand up to these slippery fellows, though I’m certainly stronger than they are.”

He sat with a colored cloth over his shoulders, carefully observing the matches that followed. I believe he learned a great deal from them, for encouraged by the considerable sum now amassed on the cloth the wrestlers fought their best. The final victor was one Iskender, who looked no more formidable than the rest, though his shoulders were as broad as a bread oven, and a lighter man could not move him from the spot. Andy surveyed him wide eyed, and said, “That Iskender’s no fool, and he’ll be an opponent after my own heart when I get so far. But I’ve seen enough today to know that I’ve much to learn.”

He did not let his first defeat discourage him, and indeed it proved an advantage, for the other gureshes were all the readier to accept him as one of themselves. Iskender gave him four silver pieces from the heap he had won and declared that Andy had fully earned them; for custom required the victor to share his winnings with the other competitors.

The stake money was however the least of the sums to change hands on such occasions, for large amounts were wagered among the onlookers, whether on individual bouts or on the final result; this last was by no means a foregone conclusion. Even the most eminent wrestler, having come triumphantly through ten or fifteen successive encounters with powerful adversaries, could never be confident of wresting the final victory from perhaps a weaker man who came fresh to the attack. Wrestlers and their patrons followed a set system for determining the order of competitors on different days, which evened out the chances and made the final result very uncertain. If therefore a novice wagered solely on the appearance of the men without knowing anything of the order in which they were to fight, he might make very bad mistakes.

Spectators and patrons began to pay greater attention to Andy, and soon it was his turn to gather up the pile of money. On that day Abu el-Kasim’s joy knew no bounds. He jumped up and down, then flew open armed at Andy and planted a smacking kiss on his mouth, so that Andy yelled, spat, and hurled him back among the onlookers who, in an ecstasy of mirth, caught him on their outstretched arms. Abu el-Kasim at once bestowed the prescribed proportion of his winnings in alms, displaying deep emotion at his own munificence. But the rest of the money he quickly knotted into a bundle and clasped to his breast, wondering aloud where he could lay hands on an iron chest in which to secure it.

The sum was negligible in comparison with his real fortune, but he liked to feign poverty and entertain the public with his dread of the taxgatherer. And indeed, it was not long before a fat, breathless man arrived at our dwelling. He leaned on his staff of office and looked about him greedily from under a big, bulging turban, and at the sight of him Abu el-Kasim cringed, wrung his hands and said, “O tax- gatherer Ali ben-Ismail, why do you persecute me? Not three moons have passed since your last visit, and I’m a poor man.”

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