The Lake of Sorrows (33 page)

The other startled the guards when she slipped forth from the corridor’s deep shadows and whispered at their captain, with a strange air of triumph. “Dawn is coming, Tahir.”

“It is yet dark, lady Haynitsa.”

“Not for long. I have learned to sense the very first hint of the sun’s return. I spend my nights longing for it, you know.”

She stepped towards the door. The guard met her gaze and stepped aside.

Tahir moved in front of her and stood his ground. “Lady Haynitsa. Noone goes in there. My master, your brother needs to … to deal with his grief. The lady Eminee would have wanted us to allow him the time to do that.”

“Time?” Once more, there was that strange air of triumph about her. “You can make all of the palace stand still, Tahir, but not time itself. You may have silenced everyone, but the stench of fear is all around. It will carry to my brother’s levies outside the city before we know it. When the sun comes out, he must, or we shall all come to grief soon enough. And can
you
make him come out?”

She waited, head thrown back, until he bowed. “No, my lady.” He opened the door to the room and dared not look inside. As she brushed past him, he put a hand on her arm. “Bring him out the man his wife wished him to be be, my lady. She deserved that much.”

“I shall bring him out a man, Tahir.” She disappeared into the darkness.

H
aynitsa’s eyes, used to endless nights in which light would not protect her from her demons, found her brother.

Alhi was lying on the floor, his cheek resting on Eminee’s feet.

His voice was so tiny she could barely make out the words. “She is dead, sister. Her feet … they are so cold. She abandoned me. I could not stop it. Not undo it.”

“Then you understand how it feels. Finally.”

He gazed up at her, if only briefly, the ghost of a question in his eyes.

“Feeling helpless. Like your mother and I felt when those jackals ravished us so long ago. Like I feel in my nightmares. Every night.
Every
night, brother.”

He did not really seem to listen. He was slowly, gently stroking Eminee’s feet. “She loved me, you know. Really loved me. Like noone else. Not even our mother. How could she leave me?”

Haynitsa paced slowly around the room, then stopped in front of him. “I once attended mass in the Christians’ church, you know. Oh, yes, the sister of the most Muslim Sultan’s appointed Pasha of Hyperus. Incognito, of course. But I sat all through it. The Patriarch himself gave a long sermon.”

At this, he lifted his head slightly. “You … what? But you have no gods. Like me.”

“I was ready to sell my soul to any god who would rid me of my nightmares.”

“My sister? The daughter of Hamko?” He sounded as if he was about to weep again. “Groveling at the feet of the Christian God?”

“No longer. The Patriarch spoke of faith, love and hope. I realized I wanted to laugh at him.”

“Fate is deaf … ” They gazed at each other for a long time in silent understanding.

“Yes, my brother. Fate is deaf. And faith is nothing but willingly leaving your destiny to fate. Love, in turn, is blind. It might bump into you, like a drunkard in the night. Or it might not. That is why you need hope. Hope that the drunkard
will
bump into you, that deaf fate
might
take an interest in your … hopes.”

Alhi’s eyes went distant, his head once more sank down onto Eminee’s feet. “And hope?”

“Is the god of the helpless.”

And she saw, with a triumphant smile, a spark in his eyes. “Helpless?”

“Yes. Helpless. What you are when fate has no interest in your wishes or fears, and the drunkard of love has wobbled past, or offered you his cup, only to knock it out of your hands. Then all you can do is stand there, dejected - and
hope.
If you are a woman, that is, for we women are chattel, when all is said and done. We may be bartered for fortunes and alliances, like our hapless Pashou, or … taken against our will like peasant women. But chattel we all are.”

She waited, savoring the sight of the spark in his eyes growing into embers.

“That, my brother, was why our mother tried to be a man, twice so after what happened to her and to me. That was why she wanted
you
to be twice the man that anyone else has ever been. She knew that only a man gets a
choice
in this world. Faith, hope and love - or seize fate by the throat and shake that deaf fool and
make
him listen,
make
him obey.”

The embers were turning to fire, even if Alhi was still lying on the floor. His muscles were tightening, his body tensing.

“Your Eminee put her trust in her
faith
that you could be made the Pasha
she
wished for. Now your head is resting on her dead feet.”

Alhi was growling, rising to his hands and knees.

“Your son has been all but destroyed by
love
for that little Greek tear-pot of his. I have lived my life
hoping
I could move you to wreak my vengeance on Gardiki one day.” Suddenly, her voice rose to a scream. “And here I am, still half-mad with nightmares that haunt my every night.”

She knelt beside him, snarling savagely. “Outside Souli, brother, the vultures are feasting on the corpses of your army. Here in Yannina, your women and your guards are whimpering, your levies are eyeing the horizon and wondering if they should run along home - or please your enemies and themselves by turning on you. Will the Pasha of Hyperus do nothing but lie here and
hope
that all will be well again?”

“Never!” Alhi was on his feet, crouching, muscles rippling up and down his back, hands clawed. “Never.”

Eyes ablaze, he raised his fists and his face towards the ceiling and the sky beyond it. “Do your worst! The Lion of Hyperus will do his! The Greek whore first, then the Souliotes, then Gardiki. And when I have proven myself a man who will not be resisted, the Sultan will have to find lesser men to be his loyal dogs. All of Hyperus and Thessaly, all of the Balkans will become
my
Sultanate. I will not be refused ever again!”

He strode to the door and tore it open, making the soldiers and the doctor outside jump away in shock. “Why are you standing there like frightened children, you simpering fools? Go rouse my servants and summon the officers of my levies. It will be day soon and I have a beloved wife to bury, with the honors she deserves. And then I have matters of state to attend to. Allies to whip into line, enemies to punish.
Move!
”

As they scattered, he caught Tahir’s arm in a grip so strong a jolt of pain shot across the captain’s face. “Take ten men and find that wife of the magnate Vassiliou, wherever she is and arrest her. As a traitor and a poisoner.”

E
ven chained to the dirt-streaked wall of the dank, dark dungeon, the Vassiliou woman was still so hauntingly beautiful that it made Alhi’s loins ache. Suddenly he was most pleased with the flickering golden torch-light of the dungeon, it made his deep flush hard to see.

Standing behind him, captain Tahir found it equally hard to take his eyes off Froshenie; but unlike his master, he noticed the streaks of filth already on her face and the wrists, already bloodied by struggling with the manacles at the end of the chain that bound her to the wall. He felt the damp straw on the floor crunch and squelch beneath his boots, heard the chirping of the rats and suddenly found it easy to look away.

Muhtar had shouted and cursed at him when they took Froshenie away, and Tahir was fighting an urge to do the same at his Pasha now. The young Bey had flung aside his covers and tried to attack the guardsmen. He had fainted with the effort and Tahir had put him back to bed by himself, gently drawing the covers over him again. When a guardsman had chained Froshenie to the wall as the Pasha ordered, Tahir had watched him work, stone-faced. When they left the dungeon to report to Alhi, Tahir had hit the man squarely in the face. And the guardsman had made no attempt to avoid the blow.

Froshenie fought off a shiver and met Alhi’s unashamed gaze as it rose from a leisurely inspection of her from toe to top. “The city of Yannina will never accept this. I am the Patriarch’s niece.”

“And a poisoner.”

She gasped. “Your guardsmen said that, but I did not kill your wife. I only met her recently. She seemed an admirable woman and wife. I had no reason to harm her, even if I had been able to. I did not poison her. I swear it.”

“I know you did not.”

Froshenie stared at him, dumbfounded.

“I am told you are a clever woman who reads books.” He chuckled. “Surely you understand that sometimes there are more important people to punish than the guilty ones. Or more
convenient.
”

She stared at him for a few moments more, then the confusion was replaced by sudden certainty. “Muhtar!”

“You
are
clever for a woman. Yes — Muhtar. He must be free of you.”

“You think the city elders cannot guess that?”

“I know they can. I summoned them, then sent them packing again, knowing that nothing can save you. They can only save their pride, or at least their self-respect.”

“Their pride?”

“You are a ravishing woman, a Greek like them and, as you say, the Patriarch’s niece. Those cowards quaked in their boots, for they knew they are honor-bound to charge to your rescue. Unless they have a good reason
not
to.”

“And you gave them that?”

“No. You did. Adultery. You seem to have almost forgotten you are married to a respected magnate of Yannina. I told the elders that
I
had not forgotten that. That since they would not punish you, I would. For having seduced my son. Which, by the way, reminded them that not only are you committing adultery, you are doing so with an enemy of their country and their faith. And, all of a sudden, they saw far less reason for chivalry.”

“My husband has … let me go! He is the noblest of men. He put my happiness before his own.”

“And he is presently at sea, en route to Venice. As he so often is. When he makes landfall there, you will be on the bottom of the lake by my palace. When he hears that, he will either shoot himself or join those pathetic Greek rebels - my spies tell me he might be one of them already. And his wealth here in Yannina would go a long way towards paying for a new army.”

Froshenie staggered, blanching. “Your … guests would not stand still while watching you … take me to the lake.”

“They would not be invited. Traitors I punish with an audience attending. Whores have always gone into the lake at midnight. Noone wants to look at such filthy creatures. So say your prayers, if there is a god for adulteresses. You have until midnight to find out.”

For a moment, he thought she would swoon. Then she yanked brutally at the chain, making the manacle bite deep into her wrists. The pain shot through her all the way to her eyes, but it jolted her back from the edge of unconsciousness.

Alhi watched, toying with his beard, affecting a thoughtful look. “There is, of course, another place you could go.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Come now. Were you not so very clever a moment ago?”

He waited silently, patiently, until the fear and pain in Froshenie’s face was burned away by a sudden, seething fury. “I will never be one of your … harem chattel.”

“You will, if I decide so. Your precious husband is said to be a rebel. I am merely trying to establish whether or not you would be more trouble than pleasure. I readily confess I was smitten with your loveliness when I saw you in the bazaar. As was my poor son. But
I
do not let my infatuations with women rise above my loins to cloud my mind.”

Her answer came with a strength that made his eyes widen in surprise. “If you really think that what your son and I share is nothing but infatuation, I pity you!”

“I do not care what it is, as long as I can get rid of it. If you willingly submit to me to save your life, contempt will un-cloud Muhtar’s mind. And save his life, too, for I know he will rise from his sickbed to scandalize me with you.”

“Save his life? Please … do not hurt Muhtar. He is your
son.
”

“Be that as it may, if I think he will rise from that sickbed a rebel to me, I will see to it that the sickbed becomes his deathbed. Do I make myself clear?”

She spat at him and missed, then snarled. “You do not scare me! He told me you need him. You cannot afford to lose him.”

“If he is not freed of your spell, I have lost him already. I have lost a wife. I will go to any lengths to keep my son, but only if he
is
my son!”

She bit her lip and fought back tears, though she could not tell if they were from rage or grief. “What you are trying to make me do would kill him as surely as whatever poison you would give him if I refuse you. Do you not understand?” She took one long look at his eyes, and her tears dried up. “No, you do not. So I refuse you!”

He tried to look bored. “Do not flatter yourself. Do you really think the son of Alhi Pasha is not man enough to survive a broken heart - especially if his lady love turns out to be a coward that preferred my bed to my lake? And besides, I am not a man to accept refusal any more. From anyone.”

“If you can do this to your own son, you are not a man at all any more. Then you
have
become the Beast they say you are!”

Trying to smile, Alhi found that he could not. He stepped in close to catch her face in one of his big hands, his fingers digging deep into her cheeks. “First Zavellas, then you! Haughty,
haughty,
all of you Greeks - especially when you have every reason
not
to be. But I shall have that stuck-up braggart’s head on my palace gate one day — and I shall see
you
again at midnight. Find in yourself the humility that becomes a woman, or suffer the more for being without it. For when I come back, I will have my way, with or without your submission. And I will tell my son whatever he needs to be told. You will not take him away from me.”

“You were driving him away from you even before he met me. Now that I have met his father, I know that to be true.”