The Wanderer (4 page)

But Andy crossed himself devoutly and said, “Far be it from me to deny my good Christian faith and swear allegiance to the false prophet. Or at least not like you, with my eyes shut. Let me first see what we’re letting ourselves in for.”

His obstinacy annoyed me, but I had no time to argue further, for Captain Torgut turned to me while his men were carrying off the plunder, and once more addressed me in Italian.

“To guide even one unbeliever into the right path would be an act pleasing to God and meritorious to myself. I will therefore answer patiently any questions you may put to me, for I am the Imam aboard my own vessel.”

I bowed deeply, putting my hand to my forehead as I had seen his men do, and said, “Before you I stand naked as the day I was born. My own country has long been lost to me, and now that I have lost also my possessions and my Christian faith there is nothing I can call my own. Treat me therefore as a newborn child in matters of religion, and I will do my best to grasp and receive the new faith.”

He said, “You speak wisely and sincerely, and may the almighty God account it to you for merit. But you should clearly understand that the Law of the Prophet permits no one to be converted by force or cunning. Do you therefore freely renounce all idolatry and confess that Allah is the one God and that Mohammed is his Prophet?”

I was astounded at his words, and exclaimed, “I don’t understand you, for being a Christian I am no idolater.”

This greatly incensed him, and he said, “Woe unto you Jews and Christians who received the Scriptures but continued in your unbelief, corrupting the teachings of Abraham and Jesus, and so departing from the one God! We Moslems acknowledge Abraham, and Jesus who was a holy man, and Mary his mother. But we do not worship them as gods, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and eternal God is one and indivisible. Christians therefore sin grievously when they worship images in their churches, for of God no likeness can be made. Further, it is an abominable error—nay, blasphemy—to say that God has a son. Christians see their deity in a threefold form, as a drunken man sees double. But this is not to be wondered at, for Christian priests drink wine at the sacrifice, whereas the Prophet’s law forbids the use of wine.”

When Andy heard this he started, stared wide-eyed at Captain Torgut, and said, “Perhaps this is a sign, for my worst misdeeds and sins have ever been the result of immoderate wine drinking. I can doubt no longer that God in His inscrutable wisdom has marked me out for slavery among the followers of the Prophet, so that I need never again fall a victim to my besetting sin. I won’t quibble over the Trinity, for the matter has always been beyond my feeble understanding, but if Moslems acknowledge the merciful and gracious God, and if your Prophet can really induce you to drink only water, then indeed your faith is worth considering.”

Captain Torgut was overjoyed and cried, “Will you too freely take the turban and submit to the will of God?”

Andy crossed himself and answered, “Kill or cure! If it is a great sin, may God forgive me because of my dull wits. Why shouldn’t I accept the same fate as my brother Michael, who is more learned than I ?”

Captain Torgut said, “Allah is gracious and merciful if we walk in his ways. He will open for you the gates of Paradise with its rippling water brooks. He will give you rare fruits to eat, and virgins await you there. But only God is patient, and I have other things to do than convert my slaves. Repeat quickly what I say and so profess yourselves Moslems.”

We repeated after him as well as we could the Arabic words, “Allah is Allah and Mohammed is his Prophet,” after which he recited the first sura of the Koran and explained that no agreement between Moslems was binding without it.

While we were wrestling with the difficult Arabic words, the Negro gathered up the lopped-off heads and put them into a leather sack with some handfuls of coarse salt. Then Captain Torgut said to us, “Wind the turban about your heads, and from now on you are under Allah’s protection, though you will not be true Moslems until you have learned Arabic and are familiar with the teachings of the Koran. Circumcision is also a custom pleasing to God, which every true Moslem willingly complies with.”

Andy said hastily, “Not a word has been said about this until now, and the step I’ve taken fills me with misgivings.”

But I silenced him for fear of vexing the haughty captain, and whispered, “A wise man chooses the lesser of two evils. However unpleasant circumcision may be, it is at least preferable to beheading. Remember that all holy men in the Bible were circumcised, from the patriarch Abraham to the apostle Paul.”

Andy admitted that he had never thought of this.

“But,” he went on, “my manhood revolts against it, and I doubt whether afterward I could look a decent woman in the face.”

By now the ship was sinking beneath our feet, and so we went aboard the narrow Moslem craft which, being built only for speed and combat, was very far from roomy. Four of our sailors whose lives had been spared were at once chained to the rowers’ benches, but Tor- gut-reis allowed us to remain near him while he sat himself down with crossed legs on a cushion before his tent. His good will emboldened me to ask what was to become of us.

“How do I know?” he replied placidly. “Man’s fate is in the hands of Allah, and the days of birth and of death are predestined. You’re too frail for rowing and too old to be made a eunuch, and so no doubt you’ll be sold to the highest bidder in the Jerba market. Your brother, though, is a brawny fellow, and I would willingly have him in my crew.”

Andy said gravely, “Noble captain, don’t separate me from my brother, for he is weak and defenseless and without my protection would soon be devoured by wolves. Sell us like two sparrows, for the same farthing. Also I’m in no hurry to fight my Christian brothers, having seen how cruelly they’re treated.”

Captain Torgut’s face darkened.

“Don’t dare to speak of cruelty, for Christians treat Moslems far more savagely. From sheer bloodlust they slay them all, irrespective of age and sex, while I kill only from necessity and carefully spare all who can be useful as slaves.”

To lead the conversation into smoother channels I asked, “Exalted captain, do I rightly understand you to serve the great Sultan? How is it then that you attack Venetian vessels, although a state of peace and friendship is said to prevail between Venice and the High Porte?”

Captain Torgut answered, “You have much to learn. The Ottoman Sultan rules over more lands and peoples than I can count. And yet more numerous are the countries, cities, and islands that pay him tax and enjoy his protection. As Caliph, the Sultan is the radiant sun to all Moslems, with the exception of the redheaded Persian heretics, God’s curse be upon them. The Sultan is for true Moslems what the Pope is for Christians, and as the Pope rules in Rome, so does Suleiman rule in the city of Istanbul, which Christians call Constantinople. Thus the Sultan is lord of both halves of the world and is Allah’s shadow on earth. But to what extent I serve him and obey his commands I hardly know. I obey only Sinan the Jew, Governor of Jerba, and he has his orders from the great Khaireddin, whom Christian seafarers have confused with his dead brother Baba Aroush and whom in their terror they have named Barbarossa. In Sultan Selim’s day, Baba Aroush captured Algiers, and the Sultan sent two war galleys full of janissaries to his relief.”

“Then you are the Sultan’s subject?” I persisted, for all these names were so much Hebrew to me.

“Don’t pester me with difficult questions. My master Sinan the Jew pays tribute to the Sultan of Tunis; nevertheless Sultan Suleiman’s name is mentioned every Friday in the prayers of all the mosques in

Khaireddin’s domain. But after his brother’s death Khaireddin lost Algiers and the Spaniards have built a stout fortress on the island, blocking the entrance to the harbor. Well, the High Porte is far away, and at sea we wage war on all Christians without distinction.”

He rose impatiently and gazed out across the sea. The galley slaves pulled till the timbers creaked and the water foamed at the bows, for we were still in pursuit of our convoy. But the sun was setting, and still no sail was to be seen. Torgut cursed savagely, and cried, “Where are my other ships? My sword thirsts for Christian blood!”

He glared at Andy and me so ferociously that I felt it wisest to hide at once among all the bales and boxes that cluttered the hold, and Andy kept me company. But as the crimson sun sank below the horizon Captain Torgut became more composed and sent a devout man aloft to call the faithful to prayer. In a harsh voice this man shouted the name of Allah to all four quarters. Silence fell upon the ship, the sail was furled and the oars drawn inboard. Captain Torgut washed his feet, hands, and face in sea water, and his example was followed by the Italian renegades and most of the rowers. Then Torgut caused a mat to be spread before his tent and having laid his spear on the deck in the direction of Mecca he began as Imam to recite the prayers aloud. He grasped his right wrist with the left hand, fell upon his knees, and pressed his forehead down on the mat; this he did several times and his men did the same so far as the cramped space permitted.

With the outlandish words ringing in my ears I felt wretched and defenseless and forsaken; I pressed my forehead on the deck and dared not pray even in my heart as I had learned to pray in childhood. Nor could I pray to the god of Arabs, Africans, and Turks—that god whom they declared to be so merciful and gracious to the faithful.

Night fell, but after the fear and suspense that I had undergone I could not sleep; I lay listening to the light seas washing along the hull by my ear, under a starry sky. Brother Jehan’s frightful curses thundered in my head still, and in my horror I repeated them all. Not one of them had I forgotten, for terror had etched them into my heart forever.

That very morning I had been rich and in full enjoyment of life’s blessings. I believed that in Giulia I had found a friend who like myself was alone, and I longed for her, even while I strove to overcome my repugnance. The pilgrimage I had undertaken had freed me from the nightmares of memory. But now I was the poorest of the poor, a slave owning nothing but the rag round my loins, a slave whom a purchaser could dispose of as he pleased. Also I had lost Giulia, and I dared not think what would befall her in Torgut’s tent. The pain of losing her was torment enough.

But all this was nothing compared with the betrayal of my faith and my refusal to suffer martyrdom, to which the other pilgrims had so humbly submitted. For the first time in my life, at the age of twenty-five, having escaped many mortal perils, I had been confronted with a clear-cut choice which allowed no evasion. I had made my decision and, most shameful of all, I had made it without doubt or hesitation. For once I stood face to face with myself and examined my heart. “Michael, of Abo town in faraway Finland! Who are you? Should I not abhor you, shun you, hate you with a bitter hatred—you who throughout your life have never been or done anything completely, but have always faltered and stopped halfway? You may have meant well, but you never had strength enough to work for good. And whatever your intentions you have done much that was bad; worst of all was what you did today, for which there is no forgiveness.”

I sobbed as I sought to defend myself, “I never wanted to deny my faith—truly, I did not want to, but I was forced.”

But my relentless accuser answered me, “The same fate awaited the others, but they chose death rather than betrayal. Was your plight worse than theirs ? Think, Michael, and look truth in the eye.”

My terrors were increased; drenched with sweat I stared into the darkness, and asked, “Who are you ? Which of us is the true Michael: you who accuse me, or I who breathe and live and, despite my anguish, secretly rejoice in every breath I draw—rejoice even in the sweat that pours from me and proves that I’m alive? But I confess it: my most heartfelt penitence, my deepest sorrows and my bitterest trials, disappointments, and hard-won lessons have poured like water off a duck’s back. When the storms passed I shook myself, and was as dry as before. I donned the pilgrim’s cloak in a desire to believe that all riddles would be answered beside our Saviour’s tomb, in the land where He was born, where He lived and died. I wanted to believe it, because it was pleasant. But now that I look you in the eye, you unknown Michael, I see that it was from you I fled.”

I had never made a truer confession than this. I faced myself honestly, to be stricken at what I saw, for it was a void. But my accuser was not yet satisfied.

“And what of your faith, Michael? What do you believe? What was it you denied when you denied your faith, though others were ready to die for theirs?”

This was the bitterest cup of all, but the unknown Michael saw through me and I could only mourn, “You are right. I lost nothing when I denied my faith, for in me there was not faith equal to a grain of mustard seed. If there had been I would have died for it. My pilgrim’s cloak was a brazen lie. Until today my whole life has been a He. But I would rather bite my tongue off than admit this even to myself. For what is left of me then?”

When I had said these words I felt for the first time a hint of peace in my soul. The stern judge within me said more gently, “Now at last we have reached the kernel of the matter, my poor boy. But let us go yet a step further, if we can bear to do it. Perhaps after all we can be friends. Look into yourself, Michael, and confess. In your heart, are you really as unhappy as you make out?”

When he had said this I looked again into that inner emptiness and marveled to feel a dim, uncertain yet most glorious happiness dawning in the void. It was a happiness of the soul, because I had searched myself, cleansed myself, and was preparing now to begin again from the beginning. And so I answered meekly, “You are right, unknown man within me. Now that you have crushed and ground me to powder I am no longer so very unhappy. In fact I have never known such spiritual joy before, or even thought it possible. But now, destitute as I am, renegade to my faith, with nothing to look forward to but the fetters of slavery, I am reconciled with you and therefore I am happy. But whether you are of God or of Satan I dare not guess.”