The Aviary Gate (37 page)

The sun had risen over the Asian hills and the garden began to fill with sunlight. Behind the screen a fan undulated slowly. Paul found himself straining to make out the contours of her face. Was there a man alive who would not try to fit a face to that voice, once he had heard it? Was there anyone who could tell him? Her foot was still there. He dragged his fascinated eyes away.

‘Do you know why I have brought you here, Englishman?'

‘No, madam.'

‘Partly, of course, it is because I wished to thank you for the gifts you brought me from your Queen. And to tell you also that your servant – the cook – has been released. A misunderstanding all along, most regrettable. This is what you will tell your ambassador.' Behind the screen he saw the shadowy silhouette shift slightly. ‘But also,' she sighed again, but this time it seemed to Paul that it was a sound of pure pleasure, ‘well, let's just say it's because I can.'

In the garden now there was not a breath of air. Paul could feel the sun beating, hot now, against his uncovered head. Whatever her real business was with him she seemed in no hurry to set about it; nor he to hear it. He could, he thought, stay in that garden for ever.

‘You are fond of gardens, then, Paul Pindar Aga?' she said after a while.

‘Yes, very fond. When I was an apprentice, my master – Parvish, his name was – taught me about them; it was amongst the many things I learnt from him.'

‘Oh? And what else did he teach you?'

‘I learnt about maps, and mathematics, and the seafaring arts. He was a merchant, of course, but a good astronomer, too. And a scholar. There was nothing, I think, that he was not curious about. He collected instruments, all kinds of them: instruments for navigation, mostly, compasses, astrolabes, but he loved all kinds of curiosities, too: clocks and watches, even children's toys, so long as they had a secret mechanism to them. I was only a boy when I was apprenticed to him, but because of him I became fascinated by them too.'

Her instep, he saw, was high and white; the nails polished till they glowed like seashells. On one ankle was a small black tattoo.

‘So, you are a scholar too?'

Paul smiled. ‘No, just a merchant, madam, plain and simple, and I thank God for it.'

‘Come now, there is nothing either plain or simple about the life you lead. You English merchants could soon become kings of the seas, they tell me, and quite as rich. The world grows smaller every day at the prow of your boats. Why even now your Company is planning new trading routes, to the spice islands, to India even. They've never been afraid to take risks. I like that.' She seemed amused. ‘Are you surprised I know all this? You shouldn't be. We have skilled intelligencers, Paul Pindar Aga. We know you merchants have both the ear and the tongue of that great lady, your Queen. Why, she even selects her ambassador from amongst your number – quite a scandal, I am told, amongst the other Franks, who think it a great impropriety,' she paused consideringly, ‘when really what it speaks of is esteem.

‘If I were a young man, just starting out in life, I think I might well have chosen a path like yours. Freedom, adventure, riches …' There came the sound of silks rustling together as she leant towards the lattice again. ‘Come and work for us, Paul Pindar Aga. The Sultan has always welcomed and honoured men like you, men of intelligence and ambition. You can be part of the greatest empire the world has ever seen. We will find you a handsome house, many slaves, beautiful wives.' She paused once more. ‘Especially beautiful wives.'

Paul tried to answer her, but he found, suddenly, that he could not. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for the compendium, felt the familiar smoothness of the metal against his fingers.

‘Ah, but you do not speak.' There was disappointment in her voice. ‘You seem distracted, Paul Pindar Aga.'

When still he did not reply, she continued, ‘But you already have a wife and family perhaps, who are waiting for your return?'

A wild thought came over him. Now here's your chance, take it! Show her, show her Celia's portrait! The compendium burnt into his flesh.

‘I had a woman once, Majesty,' he heard the sound of his own voice speak at last. ‘She was dear, very, very dear to me.'

‘Were you married?'

‘We meant to marry, but no.' Paul's heart was racing. In his mind's eye he saw her: her skin, her eyes, the living gold of her hair. The colours in the garden seemed to shimmer and dissolve before his eyes. ‘She was the daughter of Parvish's partner, Tom Lamprey, in the days of the old Venice Company. He was a sea captain. If ever there was a fearless man, and an honest one, it was he. Before I joined the Levant Company as a merchant in my own right, for many years I worked as Parvish's factor in Venice. I got to know Tom well. It was his dearest wish that I should marry his daughter.'

‘His wish, but not yours?'

‘Oh, it was my wish too. The match was suitable in every way …'

Show her
!

‘She didn't wish it, then?'

I can't. I can't risk it
.

‘I believe she loved me, very much,' he forced himself to say the words, ‘quite as much as I loved her, if that were possible. But she … was lost.'

‘Lost?'

‘Lost to me.'

‘How so?'

You won't get another chance
!

‘The Company asked me to accompany Sir Henry here, to Constantinople. And as you know, our mission here has taken rather longer than expected.' Paul hesitated. ‘Two years ago she went back to England on her father's boat. It was the last merchantman to sail
that year, before the winter storms. But they were too late. There was a great tempest, the ship and everything on it was lost. All our cargo. And Tom and his daughter, too. On the coast of Dalmatia, they say.'

His thumb flicked the catch.

‘And her name?'

‘Celia, madam,' Paul said. He took his empty hand out of his pocket. ‘Her name was Celia.'

Apart from the sound of water, running and trickling in the marble channels, everything was quiet now. No birds sang or rustled in the thick woods which enclosed the garden on either side.

After a few moments Safiye Sultan spoke again.

‘Nurbanu, who was the Valide when I first came to Constantinople, taught me everything I know,' she said. ‘She was an excellent teacher, just like your master, what was he called?'

‘Parvish.'

‘There, you see – just like your Parvish. Those early lessons, we never forget them, I think you will agree. Although I think that mine were perhaps rather different from yours.

‘Nurbanu knew nothing about maps or mathematics, but she knew a great deal about the world; does that surprise you? You Franks always presume that just because we women are protected by the confines of the harem, we know nothing of what goes on outside. Nothing could be further from the truth. Nurbanu taught me that there are only two things more precious than love: power and loyalty. Never share power: that is what that great lady taught me. And in your servants, value loyalty above all other things.'

There was another silence, slightly longer than the last.

‘It is a long time since I have visited this place, Paul Pindar,' she continued after a while, and Paul thought that he could detect the faintest note of melancholy in her voice. ‘I was always very fond of the roses here, especially the damask ones. The Sultan had them brought for me all the way from Persia. Imagine it: the caravans brought them packed in ice, all the way across the desert. My roses were more costly than emeralds, he said. I don't think she ever knew that.'

‘May I pick one for you?'

‘Why, yes … yes, pick one, Englishman.'

Paul picked a single, half-opened red rose. He held it out and saw the shadowy form hidden behind the screen bend towards him.

‘My advice now is, go home, go home to England, Paul Pindar Aga. So long as loyalty is preserved, you shall have your Capitulations.' She was so close to him now, despite the screen, that he could see the jewelled glitter of her dress, could glimpse her hair; could imagine, almost, that he could smell her perfumed breath. ‘But keep my rose, Mr Pindar, I think it is only fair – for I find that I have already taken something that belongs to you.'

When Paul arrived back at the embassy later that day the place was in an uproar. Servants, both the embassy's own and those of several Ottoman dignitaries, swarmed at the entrance, which was now guarded by a battalion of janissaries, the plumes in their distinctive tall white caps fluttering in the breeze. Two horses, richly caparisoned with red and blue cloths and jewelled bridles, stamped on the cobbles.

Paul met Thomas Glover in the courtyard.

‘About time,' Glover was cramming an enormous plumed hat on to his head, ‘we were about to send out a search party.'

‘What's this?' Paul indicated the waiting horses. ‘My welcome home committee?'

‘The Grand Vizier's men. They're with Sir Henry now.'

Paul looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘And you've left him up there on his own?'

‘A visit of etiquette, that's all. I'm told they're not here to discuss business, so not too much harm can come of it.'

‘I wouldn't bank on it.'

‘Don't worry, I'm on my way up there right now.'

‘A bit of fog dispersal?'

‘You could say that.' Glover grinned. ‘I'm to let Sir Henry know the moment you appear. There's good news Paul. Dallam's finished his repairs, and they're just now giving word that Lello can present his credentials at last. I must hurry, before he does anything to make them change their minds.' He shook out his sleeves, slashed to reveal cherry-pink silk linings. ‘How do I look?'

‘Well, not quite enough spangles for my taste,' Paul gave a weary smile, ‘but very pretty all the same,' he said, walking with him to the bottom of the stairs.

‘And the Valide?' Glover began, then he stopped and looked curiously at Paul. ‘Why, my dear fellow, what is it? You look quite drained.'

‘Nothing, I'm just a little sea-sick that's all, those eunuchs can't row straight for all the piastres in the Sultan's treasury.' Attempting another smile, Paul put his hand on Glover's arm. ‘Can you stand more good news? We're to have our Capitulations, Thomas. I'll tell you after. Go on, it won't do to leave Sir Henry all on his own.'

Thomas started up the steps.

‘Which grinds more slowly do you suppose: the mills of God, or the office of the Grand Vizier?' Paul called after him.

‘Ask me another one.' Halfway up the steps to the ambassador's receiving room, Thomas Glover stopped again. ‘Oh, and by the by, more good news – if you can call it that,' he called down.

‘That villain Carew turned up again this morning, bold as you like. Turns out there was some sort of mistake. The janissaries got the wrong man after all, or some such; couldn't make head or tail of his story,' he shrugged, ‘but that's nothing new. If you ask me, a good long spell in irons wouldn't do him any harm at all. Anyway, he's back.'

And with that he disappeared from view.

Once again Paul found Carew sitting on the garden wall.

‘So, they finally let you out, did they?'

‘Good morning to you, too, Secretary Pindar.'

‘Where were you? In the Seven Towers?'

‘No, in your friend Jamal's cellar actually. Thanks for the mercy parcels,' Carew replied, not looking up. In one hand he was holding a lemon which he appeared to be examining intently. Behind the shock of unkempt hair his face wore a well-used scowl.

‘Well, let's be thankful for something: at least you're wearing your shirt this time.' Paul climbed up on to the wall beside him. ‘And it's good afternoon, I believe. Shouldn't you be making yourself useful somewhere?'

Carew took one of the several knives that he was now wearing in a leather harness strapped to his belt and, with the delicacy of a seamstress, made a small incision in the top of the lemon.

‘Have a mercy, I'm a condemned man.'

‘That was yesterday.'

Carew grunted. ‘Seems that Cuthbert Bully Boy has managed to get his finger sewn back on,' he said glumly, ‘and I'm to be allowed back in the kitchens after all. To cook syllabubs for Lady Lello – as if she didn't already have quite enough bubs to go round.' With fierce concentration he began to cut the rind away from the fruit in a fine spiral shape. ‘Don't laugh.' His eyes glittered. ‘I'd rather go back to catching rats in Jamal's cellar.'

‘And I know a few people who'd be only too pleased to put you there,' Paul said. When Carew did not reply, he added, ‘Lello has let you have your knives back then?'

‘As you can see.' Carew held out the spring of lemon peel on the point of his knife. His hands were criss-crossed with cuts and old burns.

‘When did Jamal let you go?'

‘Early this morning.'

‘Did he say why?'

‘That old woman, the one dressed all in black – you remember her? Esperanza Malchi. Well, she brought him a message. Seems it's getting to be something of a habit with her.' Carew squinted into the sun. The scar on his cheek showed up very white against his brown skin. ‘Turns out she's some kind of carrier pigeon for the Valide. Between them I'd say their information is very good, just as you suspected.' Carew turned to Paul: ‘Did you know that Jamal does astrological charts for someone at the palace?'

‘I didn't, but it stands to reason. He is a stargazer, after all.'

‘Well, I wonder if that's the only thing he does,' Carew said. ‘It seems they found who really poisoned the Chief Black Eunuch – that's why they've let me off. A woman in the harem. Did you hear the guns go off last night? That's what they were signalling, Jamal told me.' He cleaned his knife thoughtfully on his sleeve. ‘They threw the poor creature into the Bosphorous in a sack.'