Mika Waltari - The Wanderer

Of the obstacles and hardships encountered by the army on its homeward march I will say only that the losses sustained were greater than those of the siege itself, and that at least ten thousand Hungarian and German slaves perished on the way. For my part I could think only of Giulia and of our future home on the shores of the Bosphorus. Sinan the Builder, thin, worn, and unable to sleep after his unremitting toil and anxieties, was weary of my chatter long before we reached Istanbul and at length seized his hammer and threatened to crack my skull if I would not be quiet.

The nearer we came to Istanbul the more impatiently did I long to hold Giulia in my arms again, as I had done in the moments of our greatest happiness. I longed to tell her how well I had prospered, for with my two hundred aspers a day she could no longer look upon me as an inept and unenterprising man. By a singular irony of fate, the weather improved as we came nearer home. The rain ceased, wintry chill gave place to springlike warmth, and our eyes, weary of bleak mountains and heavy cloud, were now dazzled by the fresh green of countless gardens, although plane trees and acacias had long since shed their leaves.

The air was like well-cooled wine, the sun shone from a cloudless sky, and the smell of the sea came to us on the wind as the Sultan rode into his city at the head of his janissaries amid deafening acclamation. Drums and cymbals clashed and the captive slaves dragged themselves along, glancing sullenly to right and left as they beheld the vast extent of the Ottoman capital. Bonfires blazed everywhere that night. Even in Pera, the Venetian quarter, they glowed like strings of pearls.

On fire myself with longing I rode straight to Abu el-Kasim’s house, mounted on the horse given me by the Sultan. On my head I wore a broad turban adorned with a tuft of feathers in a jeweled clasp. From my belt under the kaftan of honor jingled a heavy purse and, besides my copper pen case, I wore a saber in a silver scabbard. I had hoped to find the gate flung wide and Giulia, warned by the sound of music, trembling in the doorway and blessing the day that brought me safely home from all the perils of war. Such was my fancied homecoming. But having waited so long outside the closed gate that inquisitive neighbors began to gather about me, I drew my sword, leaned forward in the saddle, and hammered on the gate with the hilt.

My horse was whinnying and dancing about and I had great difficulty in keeping my seat when at last I heard the clash of bolts and Abu el-Kasim’s deaf-mute stood before me in the gateway. When he recognized me he quite lost his head and flung the gate open with a crash, uttering many incomprehensible sounds meanwhile. The horse reared, shied, and bolted into the courtyard, whence Giulia’s furry blue cat dashed away in a fright with bushy tail erect. At this my mount kicked and leaped sideways, throwing me headfirst to the ground. It was a marvel that my neck was not broken, though as it was my drawn sword made a deep gash in one calf-my first and only wound of the campaign.

The deaf-mute flung himself to the ground in remorse, beating his brow and breast with clenched fist so that I had not the heart to chastise him. At this moment a dark-skinned Italian appeared in the doorway with coat unbuttoned and striped breeches open at the waist. Smoothing his gleaming black hair he demanded angrily who dared to disturb his noble mistress’s siesta. He was young and well built, though his dark complexion hinted at low birth; his features were as faultless as those of a Greek statue, and as expressionless. His brilliant eyes seemed light in comparison with his skin, and his thin lips showed determination, though at the moment they were distorted by a -sneer.

I have described him thus fully to show that outwardly he was in no way repellent; yet from the first I felt a deep distrust of him. For this his arrogant behavior was not to blame, for when he realized who I was he displayed a flattering awe, and having restored some order to his own dress began respectfully shaking the sand from my kaftan. He then addressed me in well-chosen words. “I beg you not to be offended at so miserable a welcome, noble sir. We could not guess that you would return so soon. Regard for your lady should have impelled you to send word of your coming, that she might have prepared the house for celebration and received you in a fitting manner. Just now she is taking her midday rest, but I will rouse her instantly.”

This I sternly forbade him to do, saying that I preferred to wake her myself and so afford her a pleasant surprise. I then demanded in some irritation who he was and how he dared give himself the airs of the master of the house and try to prevent me seeing my own wife. He changed his tone at once and said on a note of humility, “Ah, Master Michael, I’m but Alberto the slave, from the city of Verona where my father still works as an honest tailor. I ought to have chosen his trade, but I was lured away by my craving for adventure and later captured by Turkish pirates. For a while I toiled as a galley slave and was then offered for sale in the bazaar here in Istanbul. Mistress Giulia took pity on my wretchedness, bought me, and installed me here as major-domo. Yet I have no servants under me save this feebleminded deaf-mute, who is not worth the salt in his broth.”

I asked how Abu el-Kasim could have approved of this purchase, since both house and slave were his. Alberto looked surprised and answered, “I have never seen this Abu el-Kasim, though the neighbors mentioned some shady drug dealer of that name. I believe he left here in the summer for Bagdad. Who knows if he will ever return?”

I perceived that many changes had taken place since my departure, and snapping at the Italian to keep his eyes lowered when addressing me as befitted a slave, I stepped into the house. He kept close at my heels and strove to push past me when I paused to look about. I hardly recognized the rooms, so cluttered were they with trash from the bazaar, and I constantly stumbled over stools, cushions, censers, and bird cages. When at last I reached the curtains concealing the entrance to Giulia’s room Alberto thrust himself in front of me, and falling on his knees he cried out, “Do not wake her too abruptly, noble sir! Let me give her a little warning by banging on a tray!”

Touched by his consideration for the lady of the house, I was nevertheless resolved to give myself the joy of surprising her. I pushed aside the agitated Italian, drew the curtains and tiptoed into the room. And there, once my eyes had grown accustomed to the half-darkness, the sight of Giulia abundantly rewarded my starved senses.

She must have been tossing restlessly in her sleep, for she lay quite naked amid the tumbled bedclothes. Her face looked thin and there were dark rings beneath her eyes, but her golden hair lay in abundance over the pillow, her breasts were like rosebuds, and her limbs like musk and amber. Never in my most amorous dreams had I seen her so alluringly fair.

I gasped and praised Allah for according his champion so glorious a homecoming. Then I bent over her, caressed her gently with my finger tips, and whispered her name. Without opening her eyes she stretched herself voluptuously, wound her white arms about my neck and sighed in her sleep, “No more, no more, you cruel man!”

Nevertheless she made room for me beside her, groped for me with her hands, and whispered, “But you may take off your clothes and lie beside me!”

I was startled at her readiness until I realized that she was enjoying some delightful dream and talking in her sleep. With a smile I did as she asked, flung off my clothes, and crept onto the bed beside her. Throwing her arms about my waist she pressed me to her and begged me sleepily to caress her. The depth of her slumber surprised me, but I could see that she did not want to cut short her dream and was putting off the moment of waking.