The Wanderer (47 page)

When after two and a half years’ absence Abu el-Kasim returned from Bagdad his house was so full of yelling, squabbling servants that he did not recognize it, and had to go out into the street again to make sure he had come to the right place. And truth to tell I had long forgotten that I was a mere guest
in his house and was making use of what belonged to him. But the deaf-mute, half starved, ragged, verminous, and long since banished to the obscurest corner of the yard where he dragged out a miserable existence beneath a roof of woven withies, at once recognized his lord. He squealed and scampered about and fawned upon him, like a faithful dog welcoming his returning master.
 

At first I hardly knew Abu. He wore a large turban and a kaftan with jeweled buttons, and on his feet were slippers of red leather. With a gesture of command he bade his three donkey drivers unload the bales of merchandise from the backs of their beasts. The donkeys were gray, sturdy creatures; silver bells jingled on their harnesses and from the great bundles they carried floated a fragrance of musk and spice. Abu el-Kasim himself smelled of musk and rose water and had even pomaded his sparse beard. It was clear that he had prospered on his travels.

Before I hurried out to greet him I glanced about me and to my shame observed the hideous confusion prevailing in his house. His cooking pots were dented, his pitchers chipped, and his costly rugs worn threadbare. Baby clothes hung out to dry in the yard, the two Negroes lay snoring on the porch, and in the midst of all sat the Russian woman with knees apart and eyes half shut, suckling my daughter and her son. The scales fell from my eyes at last and I perceived how neglectful Giulia had been of Abu el-Kasim’s house. She was not even at home now, but had gone to the Seraglio or the bathhouse, “to attend to her work,” as she would say whenever I questioned her.
 

My fingers were ink stained. I had slept badly and was worn out with trouble and anxiety, but despite my weariness and shame a wave of warmth swept through my heart as I embraced Abu el-Kasim and with tears of joy welcomed him home after the hardships of his perilous journey, from which I had feared he would never return. Abu looked about him with his monkey eyes and was on the point of tearing his beard, but recollected himself in time and said bitterly, “I can see for myself that my return was unexpected. But I’ll endeavor to control my tongue if you will at once fetch me a little water that I may perform the lesser ablution and repeat the prayer of homecom- ing.”
 

While he was engaged in his devotions I contrived by savage imprecations and blows to restore a measure of order. The slaves cleared part of the house by throwing out our own belongings and helping the donkey drivers to carry in the bales. Having ordered the cook to prepare a meal instantly, I accompanied Abu el-Kasim ceremoniously into the house and led him toward the place of honor. But Abu paused before the Russian woman, who had never learned to veil her face in the presence of men, and gazing enchanted at her and the two children at her breast he said, “I see that you have taken another wife, Michael el-Hakim, and evidently not a moment too soon, since Allah has already blessed your household. Never have I beheld a finer boy. He is fairer than the moon and the image of his father.”

He took the child in his arms and wept with delight when the boy clutched his beard with his little fingers. The Russian was delighted at this condescension; she modestly covered her bosom and even drew a veil over her round face as she gazed moist eyed at Abu el-Kasim. I snapped, “She’s no wife but a bought slave. It is my daughter who is fairer than the moon and out of regard for the Sultan I have whispered the name Mirmah in her ear, after the Moslem manner, since the Sultan’s own daughter has been given that name. But I forgive you, Abu el-Kasim, for no doubt you have not yet rubbed the dust of travel from your eyes.”
 

He handed the boy back reluctantly to the mother, stroked my daughter’s cheek out of politeness, and seated himself in the place of honor. A scullion, trembling with fear, brought sherbet in a silver goblet and spilled some of the sticky liquid over Abu’s knees. Abu fished a dead fly from the cup, tasted the drink, and said with a grimace, “What delicious sherbet! Its only defect is that it’s too warm—but then it’s so much the sourer. However, for the sake of your child I forgive you everything, Michael el-Hakim, though I confess my first impulse was to send for the cadi and two competent witnesses to assess the damage you have done to my beautiful house. But for thirty years no little hand has tugged at my beard. I will not be petty. I can afford to look the other way, and indeed have always been magnanimous.”
 

To cheer him I explained that my new house would soon be ready, and even promised to have certain repairs carried out in his own. When we had eaten a good meal together and opened a jar of wine all awkwardness between us melted away; our conversation grew ever more animated and Abu el-Kasim told me of the marvels of Bagdad that not even Genghis or Tamerlane had been able to destroy. He spoke too of the Persian rose gardens, of Tabriz and of Ispahan, and praised in glowing terms that long-hallowed land of poets. As to his own affairs, however, Abu was reticent, and he was unwilling to open his bundles, though it was not long before the whole house was fragrant with them. The smell of musk wafted out into the street, bringing the neighbors to our gate to shower blessings on Abu el-Kasim at his most happy homecoming. Moved to tears he distributed the remainder of our meal among them—more indeed than I had intended to give away—and sobbed with the nostalgia born of wine, “Ah, Michael! My name is Abu el-Kasim, but you
have never even asked me why I so call myself and what became of my son Kasim. Today I felt a child’s hand playing with my beard for the first time in many years; time rolled backward, the fount of tears was unsealed, and I looked for a moment into the well of my own life. Woe, woe is me! So dearly did I love my only son that at his birth I tempted Allah by changing my name to Kasim’s Father, Abu el-Kasim.”
 

He plunged again into sorrowful memory. Presently he looked up and said in an altered tone, “That reminds me that on my journey I met our friend Mustafa ben-Nakir. At the moment he is studying poetry under the guidance of the most eminent poets of Persia. He’s also associating with dissatisfied dignitaries who resent the tyranny of young Shah Tahmasp and want to abandon the Shiite heresy while there is yet time, to return to Sunna, the true path.”
 

Only now did I understand in my innocence that Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben-Nakir had gone to Bagdad and Persia to gain knowledge that would be of use in the event of war in the East. Much disturbed I exclaimed, “Allah! You cannot mean that the Grand Vizier is secretly spreading dissension in the Persian dominions? The Sultan has given firm assurance of his desire for peace, and he needs all his forces to defend Islam against the Emperor’s planned attack.”
 

Abu el-Kasim replied, “Unfortunately Mustafa ben-Nakir has obtained incontrovertible proof that Shah Tahmasp, to Islam’s shame, has begun negotiations with the Emperor and asked his help in a war against the Sultan. The time is indeed ripe for all Mussulmans to lift up their voices and cry across the world, ‘To our aid, all true believers!’“
 

At his words I seemed to hear the roar of an avalanche and I choked over my wine. For if the Sultan were forced to wage a double war and defend himself against both Emperor and Shah, then indeed evil days were dawning for us all. Abu el-Kasim blinked at me and went on, “In their blindness these infernal Shiites would rather fight on the side of the unbelievers than submit to Sunna and the rule of uncultured Turks. Much indignation has also been aroused by the rumor that the Grand Mufti has issued a
fatwa
by which in any future war the Shiites may be deprived of their property and sold into slavery, though they themselves are Moslems.”
 

“That’s no rumor,” I said innocently. “It’s true, for what arrfiy would make the arduous march to Persia merely to protect the life and property of the inhabitants? But such talk is absurd. The Sultan has no intention of attacking Persia. He is secretly equipping a new army to march again on Vienna and the German states.”

But the wine had gone to Abu el-Kasim’s head and made him quarrelsome. “You’re a renegade and grew up in the West, Michael. You’re Europe-mad. But what good would those impoverished and divided countries be to us? They have not even the same religion. No, the Eastern lands are the lands for the Sultan. Islam has grown from a tiny seed into a tree, under whose shade the whole world may rest. First Suleiman must unite Islam and extend his domains to wealthy India; then if he chooses he can turn his eyes to cold, barren Europe. You should have seen Bagdad with its thousand minarets, the countless ships in Basrah harbor, the mosques of Tabriz, and the treasures in the bazaars of Ispahan! Then you would turn your back on the penniless Emperor of the unbelievers and set your face toward the East.”

Clearly he on his part was Orient-mad, and I did not care to bandy words with him in matters that I understood better than he did, honored as I was by the Grand Vizier’s confidence. I called the nurse and laid her son in Abu’s arms, then picked up my daughter Mirmah and touched her hair with my lips, marveling again at the freak of nature that had given her black hair, when Giulia’s was golden yellow and my own fair rather than dark.

Either the wine or Abu el-Kasim’s talk sharpened my wits, and I perceived that my position as Ibrahim’s confidant was less simple than I had supposed. I was paid a good salary as an adviser on German affairs, but if such fanatics as Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben- Nakir were to induce the Sultan to maintain peace in the West, then the Grand Vizier’s interest in Germany would diminish and I should lose my pay. In my own interest therefore I must firmly oppose Abu’s and Mustafa’s plans. But, I reasoned, should we meet with such another reverse as that of Vienna, all supporters of attack in the West would fall into disfavor and must give place to those who advocated war on Persia.

At this point in my reflections it occurred to me that all the Sultan’s advisers—including perhaps the Grand Vizier—were in the same position as myself. Their political attitude must be governed by private interest, irrespective of what was best for the state. These thoughts so bewildered me that I could no longer tell right from wrong.

At dusk Giulia returned, attended by Alberto. She was infuriated by the disorder in the house, swore at Abu for returning unannounced like a thief in the night, and snatched my daughter from my arms lest in my drunkenness I should let her fall. I blushed for her uncontrolled behavior, but Abu el-Kasim unpacked a flask of genuine Persian rose water for her, and begged her to commend him to the ladies of the harem, that they might receive him from behind a concealing curtain and inspect his marvelous wares. Giulia was pleased by the gift and flattered that he should have appealed to her for help, and very soon they were conferring together in perfect harmony as to how much must be given to the Kislar-Aga, how much to the doorkeepers, and how much she was to have for herself.

I did not interfere in Giulia’s affairs, having troubles enough of my own. I was now forced to acknowledge Alberto’s merits, for during the difficult days of moving he kept the good of the household continually before his eyes. He accompanied Giulia everywhere and so spared me all uneasiness on her account. But what most moved me was his affection for my daughter Mirmah. At every opportunity he took her in his arms and could silence her weeping far more quickly than I could. His whole behavior showed how well he had adapted himself to his role of major-domo, and more than once I was ashamed of my groundless dislike of this most willing man.

Once we were settled in our new house on the Bosphorus his value became even more apparent, for the slaves obeyed him, and soon he achieved so perfect an order in the household that I had nothing to think of but how to earn enough to meet our ever increasing expenses. The number of these was incredible; sometimes I was left too poor to buy paper and ink for the translation of the Koran that I had secretly begun. I had more than ten people to feed and clothe and an expensive carrying chair to buy as well as harness and saddlery; I must be lavish in almsgiving, and whereas I had fondly believed that our garden at least would be productive, the reverse proved to be the case. Indeed it swallowed more than all the other expenses put together, for I was compelled to grow the same sorts of flowers as were to be seen in the gardens of the Seraglio. I soon ceased to wonder that so apparently humble a post as that of Seraglio gardener was regarded as one of the most desirable and lucrative of any in the realm. The Indian and Chinese ornamental fish alone cost a small fortune, and as many of these died for lack of care Giulia was able to persuade me that in the end it would be cheaper to buy a skilled man to tend them. I prefer not to recall the price of this dried-up, shivering Indian.

There were thus limits to my happiness, as I sat on my billowing down cushions, wandered among the brilliant flowers in my garden, or lingered by the pool to feed the colored fish. Constant money worries chafed me like an ill-fitting shoe. I had hoped that Giulia and I might enjoy our new-found abundance in peaceful seclusion, but she soon made it clear that we could derive neither profit nor enjoyment from our house unless we invited important guests to view it for themselves.

Though it entailed a day’s exile from my domain I was undeniably flattered when Sultana Khurrem herself, accompanied by some of her ladies, arrived in her lord’s pleasure barge to admire our house and wander through the gardens. The honor this visit conferred upon us far outweighed the expense of a new marble landing stage, thought Giulia. Armed eunuchs stood guard about our house all day, so that even the dullest must observe in what high regard my wife and I were held. Soon the Grand Vizier with his suite came to visit us and see what had become of all his money; Sinan the Builder and I had to undergo a thorough cross-examination before he was smilingly pleased to understand that it was solely out of regard for his own dignity that we had been compelled to build so fine and handsomely appointed a house.