The Wanderer (44 page)

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.

I did as she asked until in my excitement I made too abrupt a movement and woke her. Her wonderful eyes flew open. If I had had the smallest doubt of the soundness of her sleep I could have asked no better proof of it than her behavior now, for when she discovered what was happening she was quite beside herself with fright; she tore herself away and hid her nakedness beneath the covers. Then she burst out sobbing with her face in her hands, thrusting me away when I sought to comfort her. Filled with compunction for the trick I had played, I humbly begged her forgiveness. When at last she could speak she asked in a quavering voice, “Is it really you, Michael? When did you come, and where is Alberto?”

Hearing this, Alberto, who was standing behind the curtain, called out reassuringly and told her not to be alarmed by the blood on my trousers; the wound was slight, he said, and had occurred when I fell off my horse in the courtyard. His prattle so enraged me that I swore at him and told him not to stand there spying upon us. But Giulia said, “In fear and trembling I have counted the weeks and months of your absence—and are oaths the first words I must hear from you when at last you return? Don’t insult that faithful servant who has so well protected me since Abu el-Kasim left me in the lurch. Have you no more regard for me than to force your way in and place me in so degrading a situation before my own servant?”

This was the Giulia I knew, but she had evidently been badly startled and it relieved her to scold me. Even such words as these rang pleasantly in my ears after so long an absence and I tried to embrace her, but once again she broke loose from me and snapped, “Don’t touch me, Michael. By the rules of your religion I ought first to wash myself, and you too are dusty from your journey. You never were considerate to me, but at least remember your duties as a Moslem and leave me alone until I have bathed and made myself beautiful.”

But I protested that she had never been lovelier than in her present disordered state, and so begged and pleaded with her that at last she gave in and surrendered herself to me, muttering the whole time about my thoughtless and insulting conduct and so depriving me of half my pleasure. Afterward she rose quickly, turned her back upon me, and began to dress without a word. Receiving no answer to any of my humble questions I too became angry and exclaimed, “So this is the homecoming I have so long awaited! But why should I have expected anything else? You’ve not even asked how I am—and as for that scoundrel Alberto, I mean to send him straight back to the galleys where he belongs.”

Giulia spun round and spat like a savage cat. With blazing eyes she cried, “I see no change in you, either! You only talk like that about Alberto to hurt me. He’s as good a man as you—perhaps better, for at least he comes of honest parents and has no need to make a secret of his birth. And what may you have been up to in Hungary? I could never have guessed the sort of thing that goes on at these campaigns if I hadn’t heard about it at the harem.”

Hurt though I was by her unworthy suspicions, I understood that her jealousy had been aroused by the malicious gossip she had heard. For the women of the harem were in the habit of bribing the Defter- dar’s eunuchs to spy upon the Sultan and the Grand Vizier, so that these exalted gentlemen had to pay dearly for any little adventure they might engage in.

I said, “The Sultan and the Grand Vizier are men of virtue and it’s unseemly to speak ill of them. But your groundless jealousy shows perhaps that you still love me and care what becomes of me. Therefore I will swear on the Koran—and on the Cross, too, if that will satisfy you—that I never went near a woman, much as I desired to at times. There is no one like you, Giulia. And if at any time I did forget you, a wholesome dread of the French pox restrained me from thoughtless conduct.”

Hearing my grave words Giulia regained a measure of composure, though she still sobbed and laughed by turns as if someone had been tickling her. Then she said, “Still the same old Michael! Tell me then what you have done and what presents you have brought for me, and then you shall hear how to the best of my woman’s ability I have sought to build up a stable future for us both.”

I could contain myself no longer and told her of all my successes—of the two hundred aspers a day and of the Grand Vizier’s promise of a piece of land and a house. I talked on ever more eagerly and boastfully, until at length I noticed that Giulia’s brow was black as thunder and her mouth twisted as if she had bitten into a sour apple. I broke off in a fright and asked suspiciously, “Do you grudge me my prosperity, my dear Giulia? Why aren’t you glad? We have left all our anxieties behind us and I cannot imagine what is on your mind.” Giulia shook her head dejectedly and said, “No, no, dear Michael. Of course I am glad of all your success, but I’m afraid for you. With your usual credulity you’ve given yourself entirely into the power of that ambitious Ibrahim. He’s more dangerous than you suspect and I would rather see you halt in time than be swept to perilous heights by clinging to the skirts of his kaftan.”

I retorted hotly that the Grand Vizier was the noblest man and finest statesman I had ever met. It was a pleasure to serve him, not only for his munificence but also for his princely conduct and his brilliant eyes. Giulia’s face darkened still further and she vowed he had bewitched me as he had bewitched the Sultan—for in no other way could she explain the strong and sinister friendship that bound Suleiman to his slave.

Greatly discomposed I told her that she with her eyes of different colors would do well not to talk of witchcraft, whereupon she burst into bitter weeping, saying that never had I so deeply, so unforgivably wounded her. I was surprised at her susceptibility on this point, for it was long since she had deplored her eyes; she had come rather to regard them as an asset, which indeed they were.

“You know I love those eyes above everything,” I assured her. “The left one is a brilliant sapphire and the right a shining topaz. Why are you so irritable today?”

Stamping with rage she cried, “Fool! I know best what my eyes are worth. But I can’t forgive you for going behind my back and getting house and land from the Grand Vizier. The idea was mine from the beginning and you opposed it. I’ve already found a site and the needed building materials. I wanted to surprise you and show you what an exceptional wife you have. Now you’ve spoiled everything. Nothing you could have done could hurt me so deeply.”

In my tender mood I could well appreciate the bitterness of her disappointment. To the best of her feminine ability she had secured a home for us, though of course it could not be so fine and tasteful as the one I meant to build. I fell on my knees before her, begged forgiveness for my ill-considered behavior, thanked her for the sacrifices she had made, kissed her slender fingers, and assured her that I had thought only of our common good and had never meant to steal a march upon her.

“But,” I asked, “what is this place that you have chosen ? Above all, how could you find the money for it, for I know that nothing costs so much as building.”

“It’s an excellent site,” said Giulia, “and need not be paid for until some convenient moment. For the materials I was able to borrow money on remarkably good terms. The wives of certain wealthy Greeks and Jews desire my friendship because of my connection with the Seraglio, and their husbands have been generous with their advice and with the loan of money, with your salary as security. I hoped that the house might be ready by your return, when you could have accepted it as a present from me with nothing to do but pay for it.”

I was aghast, but she looked at me with such artless pleasure that I had not the heart to reproach her. She pressed her face against me and said with a sob, “I’m glad you’re home, though you startled me so badly. Now you can help me in all my perplexities and see to these everlasting accounts. The house would have been finished by now but for the labor of clearing the ground, for the site is on the Marmara shore near the Fort of the Seven Towers, among the ruins of the ancient Greek monastery. That was how the Greeks were able to sell it without asking leave of the Sultan. No one has ever built there before because of the cost of clearing the site, and that was how I was able to buy it so cheaply.”

I dimly remembered having seen that dreary field of ruins, haunted since the fall of Constantinople by stray dogs alone. Her senseless action set me trembling in every limb as I strove in vain to master my feelings. Giulia stared at me wide eyed. Her face took on a greenish pallor and suddenly she rose and vomited, while tears ran down her cheeks. Forgetting all else in my concern I took her gently by the shoulders and said anxiously, “My dearest! My own wife! My most precious treasure! What is it—what ails you? Is it fever, or have you eaten too rashly of salad or raw fruit?”

Giulia moaned, “Don’t look at me now, Michael, when I’m so ugly. Nothing ails me—perhaps the worry of the house has been too much—and then you looked so stern. Pay no heed. Tell me I’m an extravagant wife sent to you by God for your sins.”

I could only beg her forgiveness from the bottom of my heart. I bathed her forehead with cold wet cloths and gave her vinegar to inhale until the color returned to her cheeks. The best tonic, however, was my saddle bag, from which I now produced all the presents I had bought for her in Buda—necklaces, earrings, and a most beautiful Venetian mirror whose handle was formed by the consummate art of the silversmith into a likeness of Leda and the Swan. I was not so strict a Moslem as to shun representations of animals and men; and in any case Giulia was a Christian.

So at last we achieved perfect harmony, and Alberto hastily prepared for us a savory Italian meal. He served me attentively and showed me every mark of respect, but although in my present mood I desired to be in charity with all the world, some little thorn seemed to have lodged in my heart and I could not be reconciled to this man who hovered about us continually and with his queer, pale eyes noted every expression of my face. What vexed me most was Giulia’s invitation to him to sit with us on the floor and share our meal. Fortunately he had the grace to retire to a corner and content himself with what we left. When at last he took the plates away for the cats and the deaf-mute to lick clean I could remain silent no longer and announced with some heat that I did not care to dine with my slave, and in any case could not endure the way this repulsive man padded and slunk about me.

Giulia, deeply offended, said, “But Michael, he’s a Christian like myself. Would you deprive me of the pleasure of conversing now and then in my own language with a fellow countryman? You have your brother Andrew; you talk together in your mother tongue so that I can’t understand a word you say. Why grudge me this little consolation in my loneliness?”