The Lake of Sorrows (7 page)

“The Ottoman Empire is wilting, Vajas. So we need to abandon that sinking ship in time.”

“Forgive me, my Pasha, but … the Sublime Porte is still the mightiest empire the world has ever seen. The French are still, in many ways, an armed mob spilling over the borders of their country.”

Alhi was rubbing his hands in inextinguishable glee. “Just like I was, when my band of brigands became too big to feed off the Tepeleni villages, no? Oh, stop moping, Vajas, my boy. Trust me, I know the man of tomorrow when I see him, and that sickly-looking lad, Bonaparte —
he
is the man of tomorrow, you mark my words.”

“To be sure, he has won some astounding victories, but — “

“Nothing astounding about victories. What is astounding is with what he wins them. He has taken a rabble of starving peasants and craven villagers and turned their hunger for being their own masters into a hunger for being everyone else’s masters. He is a fine workman of men and war, Vajas. And he has such a beautiful harem.” Vajas blinked in confusion, but Alhi winked at him and practically danced to a smaller table where a silver tray waited for him with a half-dozen small, steaming cups that gave off an odor like a sizeable coffee-house; one of the few things Turkish that Alhi enjoyed.

“Like touching a virgin for the first time, eh?” Alhi lovingly drained the first cup of the day and reached for another.

Vajas put on his most worried expression; that was not difficult, either. He was worried both for his fortune and his digestion. The Pasha’s fondness for horrifyingly strong coffee sometimes extended to offering a cup to those in his company when he was in a good mood. Vajas hurriedly tried to deflect attention to anything other than coffee. “I … was not aware that Bonaparte had a harem, my Pasha.”

His Pasha’s laughter boomed off the walls. “Ahh, Vajas. So much learning, so little knowing. You really do not know the young corsican’s
belle filles?
I intend to barter mine for his, you know. At a favorable exchange rate, mind you, I learned my haggling bartering goats!”

Vajas could only shake his head in confusion.

Alhi drained his cup, still laughing. “Guns, Vajas. Cannon. This Bonaparte was a greasy little lieutenant of artillery just a few years ago. He still loves his cannon. Calls them his pretty girls.”

A smile broke through Vajas’ confusion. “
Belles filles!
”

“Exactly. And much prettier than ours they are. Lighter, slimmer, faster, and capable of giving a general the same satisfaction as those lumbering matrons the Ottomans call cannon.”

“But, my Pasha … if you were to acquire French guns, the Sultan might not approve.”

“Indeed. I need to defy the Sultan, but that is precisly
why
I want some of Bonaparte’s pretty girls. To become a body of my own instead of merely an arm of the Sultan. Then to drive all Greeks and Albanians still carrying arms from my lands. One of the new ideas that have proven so useful in Europe ever since their endless wars of the last century is that only the ruler should have arms and armies.”

Seeing the threat of sharing the Pasha’s morning coffee recede, Vajas finally felt up to voicing his other concern. “If we are to open negotiations with the French about their … tools, my Pasha, then the Sultan will divine your intentions long before such negotiations could be concluded. Such matters always drag on and on. Demand must be adjusted to counter-demand, over and over again, second thoughts —”

“That is the way men like
you
do your haggling, Vajas. I do mine in a more direct fashion, if given half the chance. And now we have been given the finest of chances.”

“I am not sure I understand, my Pasha.”

“You will, my boy, you will — you always were as bright as you were loyal. For the moment, I just need you to write and dispatch orders to my garrison commanders all over Hyperus. They are to leave only enough men behind to keep their domains quiet. The rest they will bring here.”

“You are mustering an army? We are going to war again?”

Alhi was fighting to resist the last cup of coffee for now - and lost the struggle with a smile. “Oh, indeed. And we shall sweep all before us with our pretty French girls, once I have bartered a bit of my own collection for some of those.”

Savoring the last cup of coffee as well as the increasingly confused expression on his advisor’s face, Alhi picked up the French courier’s letter and tossed it to Vajas. “Bonaparte’s henchman, Chambeaux, is sending his adjutant to us as an emissary. And that adjutant, my spies assure me, is a man who loves beauteous flesh.”

“N
o! Not Souli. Not again.” Forgetting all propriety, Eminee all but cried with exasperation in the harem’s garden that evening. “How many armies must be wasted on that accursed — “

“Ooh!” Alhi cut her short with an explosive snort of annoyance. “It is my fault for telling you, woman.”

“Do not regret it, Alhi. Just listen to me. Each time you plan another attack on that devilish bit of rocky countryside, my dreams turn terrible. I dream the lake overflows and carries away the castle, you, me, everyone. Is it too hard to leave the people of Souli alone? They are just a handful of Greeks cut off from the rest of the world. Do not take their independence too hard.”

“Oh, I see. My wife is giving me orders now! What next, then?” For a moment, Alhi stood at attention like a janissary recruit. “It seems to me that now we rule together. Hah! What do you say, Eminee? Do you like the idea that you should sit alongside me at the great table in the war council room and plan my strategy?”

“No. I do not. Those are things I hardly care about. Yet there is one thing I do know all too well — my soul. And it has never lied to me.” Alhi recoiled at the horror in her voice. “If you attack Souli you will be in terrible danger, Alhi.”

“I am in danger every single day - and every single night, too, now that I think of it. Sometimes, I think you forget what the life of a Pasha is like, woman.”

“How could I ever forget that? You are my Pasha and my husband, and I love you. How many times have I been the one who saw the danger first?” Eminee sighed. “Sometimes, I think you
want
the danger, Alhi. You are intoxicated by danger. Perhaps that is why you never cared for opium or hashish?”

Alhi sought refuge in haughtiness, as was his habit. “This discussion is over. Just mind the affairs that are yours to mind. And, speaking of those, find a way to talk some sense into Muhtar. I have heard he is about to make a fool of himself.”

“Muhtar would never do such a thing!”

“Love will make a fool of any man, if he lets it. Words keep coming to my ears. That he has taken an ill-advised fancy to the Patriarch’s niece and chases after her like a besotted boy.”

“Who pours such poisonous lies in your ears?”

“Pashou, his wife.” He groaned. “Oh, what an annoying woman she can be! Yet I cannot ignore her. I need the alliance and help of her father, especially now, with my plans for Souli. So talk to our son, Eminee. Make him understand his duty to our family. I have better things to use his time for. After all, Yannina is full of other women who would chase
him
if given an ounce of encouragement. Make him see that.”

“Why do you not you talk to him yourself?”

“Because I do not stoop so low as to talk about women when we are going to war! That is what we should put our minds to, instead of groveling for the favors of ladies who count their smiles when they are not smiling to themselves for making fools of us.”

“I have already tried to talk to him, Alhi. He barely listens. They are liars, those that say he will make a fool of himself — not because it is not true that he is in love, but
because
it is true. This is not like the rest of his adventures. It is serious.” Eminee had deep concern at her voice.

Alhi stared at her, utterly taken aback. His eyes darkened, his mouth tightened, then opened like a volcano crater about to spew fire and brimstone.

“Please, my husband, do not be … unbecoming of a Pasha.” Eminee just managed to get her parry in, speaking fast, but quietly. “The women of your harem would never repeat a word spoken inside it to the outside world, but you know that any outburst would become a weapon. A weapon used against you in all your women’s never-ending struggle to be your only one.”

He closed his mouth, opened it again, obviously about to tell her in no uncertain terms what he was perfectly prepared to deal with scheming harem women. Then he snapped it shut again.

When he finally did speak, he did so stiffly, like a general giving orders to an aide. “Then talk to Muhtar again! And again. Just as many times as are needed to make him act his age. He will be Pasha one day. He should learn that what a Pasha wants, he takes. And if it happens to be one of those few things he should not take - yet! - then he should not want it!”

Alhi slept even less than usual that night, making full use of the discipline that Hamko had taught him, to not to let go and fall asleep, to be alert at all times. Insomnia was a friend and ally he welcomed, although it was an ally that came at a price that was getting harder to pay now that he was no longer a young man.

He was awake at once when the guards informed him his sister was raging and demanding to see him.

Before Alhi could refuse or consent to the impromptu audience, Haynitsa barged past the guardsmen and into the room. She hurled herself into his arms crying and mumbling with haunted eyes.

“She is back Alhi! She came back!”

Dismissing the guards with a severe glance, Alhi hugged her as gently as his mood allowed. “What are you talking about? Who is back?”

“Mother, Alhi. Our mother. Who else? She came to my dream demanding that we honor our vow.” She wept profusely. “She is furious with you. Do you not see? You should forget Souli and take your army to Gardiki instead. Please, oh please help me, brother. I cannot stand these nightmares any longer.”

“Calm down, Haynitsa.” Alhi stroked her back awkwardly, unused as he was to gentleness and comforting. “You will leave tomorrow for a gentler place than Yannina will be once we go to war with Souli.”

“So it is true? Mother was right. You do plan to go against Souli. And you think I am mad?”

“No sister, no.” Alhi managed a soothing voice. “I love you, sister, and I am always patient with you. As I am with noone else. You are all I have left of our mother. I do not think you are mad. Of course I do not. Our mother comes to me, too, during long nights. But not on this night.”

“But your vow? My nightmares — “

“You will go away tomorrow, Haynitsa and find peace and sleep in a gentler place. I will leave for Souli. But once I come back from Souli, I promise you I will do what mother wished. I have not forgotten my vow, despite what you - and mother - may think.”

“H
e is mine!” Alhi jumped off his horse, forgetting the protesting jolts of pain from his aching back and knees, and faced the boar, growling as fiercely as the Beast.

Noone objected among the score of fellow hunters behind him. Noone would have dared, and besides, the Pasha had honestly earned this one, as he most often did. They had pursued the giant boar across hills and meadows and streams, and most of them had sighed with relief when it finally darted into a dense wood where only the most foolhardy of horsemen would dare to gallop — even their horses had recoiled. Captain Tahir had dared to lay a hand on his Pasha’s shoulder. “My Pasha, this is not worth a broken neck!”

The Pasha’s answer had been a ferocious laugh. “
You
may no longer be the fellow you once were, old man.
I
am everything I was when we hunted wolves in the Kelcyres, and more. Let the
men
among us follow me - if you can!”

And Alhi had spurred his horse so viciously that blood flowed from its flanks and careered into the dense woods, braving a collision with the stout, low-hanging branches at every bound of his horse — but closing the gap. The boar, finally spent, had stopped in a small, sunlit clearing and turned on its pursuer.

Now it faced the Beast of Hyperus, who had a rugged hunting spear in his hands and a kill in his eyes.

Rumbling ominously, the animal feinted right, then made a desperate dash to the left. Alhi, whooping bloodthirstily, was not fooled, and leaped in to block its path.

For a moment, he locked gazes with it, staring deeply into the blood-shot, yellowish eyes.

“Such spirit, monster! I am almost tempted to step aside and let you go, but you might decide to kill me instead. You are admirable, but too dangerous to leave alive, my friend.”

It lunged, teeth bared - and impaled itself on his hunting spear. Shrieking, it fell, roaring and twisting, trying to bite or snap the spear in two — but now it was brute strength against brute strength, and, in this, Alhi was the beast’s match. The boar threw its last strength into a suicidal thrust towards him, trying to bowl over its tormentor. But he stood his ground, and the boar only drove the spear in deeper, dashing scarlet blood all over its enemy. With a keening war-cry, Alhi twisted the spear, then heaved mightily — and the boar crashed to the ground.

Spent himself, Alhi fell onto his knees, panting, staring into the boar’s eyes as its fierceness faded away into nothingness. “Allah and Yahwe, what a warrior!”

From the ring of dismounted fellow hunters behind him, a thunderous roar of applause rose up, and their Pasha bared his teeth in a predatory smile — genuine accolade was a rarity to Pashas and Sultans.

He rose to his feet, barking at the servants that were only now catching up to their hunting masters. “Build a fire! This little dance has given me a wicked appetite!”

The servants scattered in all directions to gather firewood. Alhi caught the head servant by the sleeve. “You will stay here. I will take off the brute’s head nice and clean, and you will put it in a bag of salt. I want it preserved most carefully and put in a place of honor on the walls of my audience chamber, to remind me of a worthy foe.”

He turned to face a small group of his fellow hunters that stood to one side, looking not quite pleased. “Dare I ask a selfless favor of you, my friends? Go to the palace and have them bring us some wine. Nay, make that lots of wine. You will miss this fine feast, but console yourself by ordering the palace kitchen to bring out its best for you.”