Mika Waltari - The Wanderer

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Mika Waltari - The Wanderer» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Историческая проза, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

The Wanderer: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Wanderer»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

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."

The Wanderer — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Wanderer», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Giulia sighed deeply, and this sigh was even more enchanting to ny ears than the quick, passionate breaths of approaching ecstasy. She cissed my cheek with her soft lips and said, “Ah, Michael, in my heart. always meant to make you marry me, at least according to the law ›f Islam. But you can’t know what joy you give me by saying this of ‘our own free will. Beloved Michael, my whole heart flows out to wu. Yes, I will be your wife-as good a wife as I can, though I’m a leceitful woman with a poisonous tongue at times. Let us be married:arly tomorrow, before anyone can stop us.”

She went on talking, but I slept, with her soft hair over my face. \fext morning all went as planned. In the presence of the cadi and bur approved witnesses I first gave Giulia her freedom and then de-:lared that I took her to wife, repeating the first sura to confirm both tcts. Cadi and witnesses received lavish gifts, and Abu el-Kasim gave t banquet to which both known and unknown guests were bidden-is many as could find room in house and courtyard.

“Eat till you choke,” was Abu’s constant exhortation. “Eat till you jurst, and take no thought for a poor old man without even a child to;are for him in his old age.”

I ignored this customary lamentation, knowing that he could well ifford the entertainment and spare something for the poor as well, ind in my overflowing joy I sent some of the good food to the Spanish prisoners toiling at the demolition of Penjon fortress. Giulia received nany presents; Khaireddin himself sent her a golden comb with ivory:eeth and Andy gave her ten gold pieces. Looking at me doubtfully with his round gray eyes he said, “I wonder whether you’ve been wise n marrying this wayward woman? Her eyes alone are a warning, and [should be afraid lest my son inherit them.”

I thought he was envious of my happiness and perhaps even jealous}f Giulia, so I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Have no fear, ny dear brother Andy. I’ve made my bed and will lie on it, and you mustn’t think that my marriage will part us. We shall be brothers as jefore. My house shall be your home always and I shall never be ashamed of having a simple fellow like yourself for a friend, even should my intelligence and learning raise me to a loftier position than you can ever reach.”

In my present gentle mood I was moved to tears by my own speech, and putting my arms about his broad shoulders I assured him of my friendship, until Giulia found me and caught me by the elbow. To the sound of drums and tambourines we walked together into the bridal chamber. But when I would have caught her in my arms she pushed me away telling me not to crush her lovely wedding dress. She then began to finger all the presents and count the givers until I was thoroughly weary, and only then did she let me kiss her and help her to undress. But her body was now known to me and could no longer give me the same joy. My head ached from the heavy incense, and once we were in bed I was content to lie with my hand on her breast and listen silently to her endless chatter.

It seemed to me that all this had happened before, and half in a dream I began wondering who she really was, and what it was that linked me to her. She came of an alien race whose language and way of thinking were different from mine. So immersed was I in my somber mood that I failed to notice when she ceased talking. But suddenly she raised herself in bed and stared at me with a look of fear.

“What are you thinking of, Michael?” she asked in a low voice. “Something unpleasant about me, no doubt.”

I could not lie to her, and answered with a shudder, “Giulia, I was remembering my first wife, Barbara-remembering how even dead stones came to life when we were together. And then she was burned as a witch, and so I feel very lonely in the world in spite of lying here beside you with your lovely breast under my hand.”

Giulia was not angry as I had expected; she stared at me curiously and her face took on an unfamiliar look. With a faint sigh she said, “Look into my eyes, Michael!”

If I had wanted to I could not have freed myself from those eyes, gazing at me under their lowered lids. She spoke in a low voice, and although I hardly listened to her I knew what she said, “You’ve doubted my ability to see things in sand, Michael, but as a child I could do the same with water. Perhaps I hardly know myself how much of it is genuine and how much pretense and imagination. But now look deep into my eyes as if into a bottomless well. Then answer me. Which lives in you now, your dead wife or I?”

I gazed and could no longer turn away my head. Giulia’s strange eyes seemed to grow to the size and depth of pools; I could feel my inner self open out and flow into their darkness. Time seemed to halt and then roll backward until all was one engulfing vortex. I seemed to be looking into the green eyes of my wife Barbara and to see her face full of ineffable, mournful tenderness. So real did she appear that I felt I might have touched her cheek. But I would not try.

I stared long at this face, while yet aware that Barbara had been dead many years and that her body had been burned to ashes in the market place of a German city. I was aware of pain-a pain so intense as to seem an ecstasy surpassing any bodily joy. For in seeing again one who had been reft from me by force and whom I had long mourned and missed, I perceived with agonized clarity that her face had nothing more to say to me-that it belonged to another world and another existence-and that I was no longer the man who had shared those two short years with her. My experiences and mistakes, my good and evil actions had raised an insurmountable wall between us, and she would not even have recognized me now. It was useless to recall her among the living. In my heart I had lost her, and forever.

I neither spoke her name nor put out my hand to touch her, and after a little time her yearning face faded into the grave countenance of Giulia. At this singular point in time something happened in my heart that made me feel I understood Giulia better than before, and I believed I really knew her. Then the mist faded; I lay once more in the familiar room and raised my hand to stroke her face. She closed her eyes and drew her brows together with a sigh.

“Where were you, Michael?” she whispered, but I could not answer her. Without a word I took her in my arms and in the warmth of her I knew the boundless solitude of the human heart. My anguish of soul was too keen for me to feel tenderness or desire. I shivered, comfortless. Passing my hand over that lovely body I thought how one day it would grow old, how the soft smooth skin would wither, the round neck shrivel, and the perfumed hair turn dull and gray. So also my desire would fade and dissolve into nothingness. If I loved her, I must love her simply for being the only creature in the world who was near to me, though even this might be a cruel illusion.

As summer neared its end, Khaireddin was satisfied that he had at last consolidated his position in Algeria, and he began to prepare the long-planned embassy to Sultan Suleiman. For as long as confirmation from the High Porte was lacking, the title of beylerbey, which he had already assumed, was worthless; he was shrewd enough to see that he could not found a kingdom of his own on the Algerian coast without becoming the Sultan’s vassal.

When the ships were taking the last of the cargo aboard, Khaireddin ordered me and the other slaves to make ready. He presented me with a kaftan of honor and a copper pen case, and explained to me the maps, charts, and notes that I was to offer as a gift from him to the cartographers of the Seraglio. He gave me also two hundred and fifty gold pieces to distribute among minor court officials who, though without great influence, were able from time to time to gain the ear of their masters. He advised me to squander rather than hoard this money, and promised to replenish my funds should the seed I sowed fall on good soil. But if I stole more than fifty gold pieces of it, he vowed, he would flay me alive with his own hands.

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «The Wanderer»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Wanderer» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «The Wanderer»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Wanderer» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x