Authors: Patrick O'Brian
‘May I see it?’
‘I will show it you before we are received, when I
pass over the consul’s letter of presentation: you will be able to look at it
discreetly, since it is in a little European box that opens and closes, click.’
‘You wrote the letter, I believe?’
‘Yes: it is in Turkish and it states that your
mission is of a private and confidential nature, undertaken at the request of
the Ministry. There are the usual compliments at the beginning and at the end:
they take up most of the paper.’
‘Very well. This is a rather more
public form of intelligence service than I have ever experienced, and it will
disqualify me for many other duties of the same nature: but to be sure, a very
great deal is at stake.’
‘A very, very great deal.’
They had reached the level ground, and now they
rode in silence until a Barbary partridge took noisily to the air almost
under their noses, causing the horses to caper, but without much conviction
after so wearing a day. ‘And surely those are palm-doves?’ said Stephen.
Dr Jacob had nothing to offer apart from ‘I am sure
you are right.’ But turning in his saddle, he added, ‘Perhaps we should let the
others catch up, so that we may make our entrance in a reasonably stylish
manner.’
Reasonably stylish it was, the Turkish guards and
their horses having a sense of occasion, and they rode through the intensively
cultivated fields of the oasis, all brilliant green beneath the towering
date-palms, round the central pool (with the inevitable moorhen) to a low,
spreading house with barns and stables scattered about. ‘The Dey’s hunting
lodge,’ said Jacob. ‘I was here once as a boy.’
An official and some grooms came out of the gateway,
the official calling what Stephen took to be greetings: he also noticed a
particular glance exchanged between Jacob and him - slight and fleeting,
evident to no one who did not know Jacob very well and who did not happen to be
looking in that direction - and then the grooms led horses and packmules into
the stable-yard while Stephen and Jacob walked into the fore-court.
‘This is Ahmed ben Hanbal, the Vizier’s
under-secretary,’ said Jacob. Stephen bowed: the under-secretary bowed, putting
his hand to his forehead and heart. ‘The chief secretary is with the Dey. Shall
we walk in?’
Inside the curious pillared patio, enclosed with
elaborate wrought-iron screens, Jacob said something to Ahmed, who nodded and
hurried away. ‘Here is the letter,’ said Jacob, passing it, ‘and here is the
little Western box.’
Stephen
clicked it open, gazed with admiration at the splendid blue, the size and shape
of an egg cut in two lengthways: he smiled at Jacob, who said, ‘I shall leave
you now. The - what shall I say? - the announcer will come through that door’ -
nodding at it - ‘in a minute or two, and announce you to the Vizier.’
The minute tended to be a long one, and Stephen
looked secretly at the stone again: he had rarely seen so true an azure; and
the gold rim echoed the golden specks within the stone quite admirably. But a
most unwelcome comparison welled up in his mind. Diana had possessed an
extraordinary blue diamond - she was buried with it - a blue of an entirely
different nature, of course, but he felt the familiar chill grip him, the sort
of frigid indifference to virtually everything; and he welcomed the opening
door. It showed a crosslooking very tall greybeard, his height increased by a
lofty white turban, who beckoned imperiously and
walked before him into a room where a middle-aged man in white clothes was
sitting cross-legged on a low couch, smoking a hookah.
‘The Christian,’ said Greybeard, in a loud,
official voice: he bowed very low and walked out backwards.
‘Good day to you, sir,’ said Stephen in French. ‘I
have an introduction to His Highness the Dey from His Britannic Majesty’s
consul in Algiers, but before delivering it to him and carrying out the rest of
my mission, I thought it proper to pay my respects to you, and perhaps, if it
is customary, to show you the letter. Since I have been told that you speak
perfect French, I have left my interpreter behind.’
The Vizier rose, bowed, and said, ‘You are very welcome, sir. Pray sit down’ - patting the
couch - ‘Like you, I do in fact speak French currently:
it is my mother-tongue, since one of my father’s wives came from Marseilles. And it is indeed
customary to show any document intended for the Dey to his chief minister. Pray
smoke, if you feel so inclined, while I read it.’
Rarely had Stephen’s sense of politeness been put
to such a test, but choosing the least worn of the hookah’s mouthpieces, he
smoked away with every appearance of composure. Not for very long, however, for
the Vizier skipped the opening formulae and the even more elaborate ending, and
said, ‘The letter speaks of a private and confidential mission: since the Dey
invariably discusses matters of this kind with me, perhaps it would save time
and many weary journeys - for I am afraid you had but a strenuous ride of it
today - if you were to tell me its general nature.’
‘By all means. But first may I beg you to
accept this trifling token of my personal esteem.’
He laid the box within hand’s reach: the Vizier
opened it, and his face changed: he carefully took the brooch out and carried
it to a shaft of sunlight. ‘What a stone!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have never seen its
like for perfection. Many, many thanks indeed, my dear sir. I shall wear it in
my turban on Friday.’
Stephen made the proper belittling murmurs and
gestures, and reverting to their day’s ride he said that although physically it
was wearisome, as an amateur naturalist he was amply repaid by the plants,
birds, and if not animals then at least the trace of animals, large animals,
that he had seen.
‘Perhaps you are a hunter, sir?’
‘As far as my feeble powers
allow me, yes, sir.’
‘So am I: though nothing in comparison with His
Highness, who, as you may know, is at present hunting the lion in the Khadna
valley. But perhaps, when we have discussed this matter and when you are
rested, we might go shooting together. But now, sir’ - with a last look at his
blue stone - ‘may we turn to the reason for your presence, your very welcome
pres.ence, in this wilderness?’
‘Well, sir, in the first place I must tell you that
it has come to the knowledge of the British Ministry that several numerous
Shiite confederacies and brotherhoods along the Adriatic and lonian coasts and
inland to Serbia who support Bonaparte have combined to intervene in his favour
by doing all they can to prevent or at least to hinder and delay the junction
of the Russian and Austrian armies on their march to join the Allies. But to
make their intervention effective they need still greater numbers of armed men:
the mercenaries are well-armed, formidable, and willing; but they will not act
without payment. The very large sum of money necessary has been sought
throughout this part of the world and at last it has been found. A Moroccan
ruler is willing to lay down two months’ pay in gold, and messengers were sent
to Algiers from Durazzo very
recently, begging the Dey to have this treasure sent across so that they might
take the field immediately. The weather has been of such a kind that they might
not have arrived: but in any event His Britannic Majesty’s government would be
very deeply grieved indeed if any help were given to these people.’
The Vizier gazed at him with a wondering
benevolence. ‘Surely, my dear sir,’ he said at last, ‘a man of your egregious
perspicacity cannot believe these wild tales? His Highness is a most orthodox
Sunnite, while the agitators in Herzegovina and those parts, of whom I have
heard quite often, are violent Shiites; and they have turned to a notorious
Shiite sheikh in Morocco. For them to ask the orthodox Dey to help them at this
point passes belief: it is as though a band of Calvinists were to beg for the
assistance of the Vatican. Can it be supposed that
our Dey would advance their cause, even if he had not hated Bonaparte ever
since his vile conduct at Jaffa, Acre and Aboukir, and even if he were not an
admiring friend of King George, whose Royal Navy has recently been so
successful in the Adriatic - a King whom no Dey of Algiers would ever
voluntarily offend? He will tell you so himself, when you see him; and I
believe his bluff, soldierlike frankness will be even more deeply convincing
than anything I can say. But come, let me call for a soothing bath and my own
masseur to restore the suppleness of your limbs; and then when you are quite
recovered we will have a simple meal and go shooting. I have two London guns, very beautiful, and
there are plenty of palm-doves here, quite tame. Then early tomorrow I will
mount you and your dragoman on decent horses and confide you to one of the
Dey’s huntsmen, who will take you by His Highness’ private road across the mountain
and down through the forest on the other side to the Arpad river that feeds the
Shatt el Khadna, showing you all manner of birds, beasts and flowers, or their
tracks. It is a vast game-preserve - no ordinary people are allowed into it
without a pass; and those who do adventure are impaled. The last Dey had five
youths and a hermaphrodite impaled in one session: he thought it a powerful
deterrent.’
Very early in the morning Stephen and Amos Jacob
rode southward across the oasis, following the very narrow paths between the
crops (mostly barley, with some chick-peas). There were still many palm-doves,
but this had been an exceptionally dewy night - the dawn itself was still hazy
- and the birds preferred to sit tight, with their bosoms fluffed out. Still many,
many doves, for the Vizier had no notion of shooting flying, and as soon as
Stephen understood this, he too waited for the occasional bird to perch,
peering and gazing down at the sportsmen.
The parting had been quite cordial, although it was
so very early and although the Vizier looked so very
worn (he had three wives, and an appiicant for high office had recently sent
him a Circassian concubine). He told Stephen that he had given the huntsman
particular instructions to show everything that might interest a natural
philosopher, including ‘le club des lions’; and he sent the Dey all possible
expressions of loyal devotion.
They rode on through the damp and even misty dawn,
Stephen and Jacob on strong capable geldings, past mark of mouth, the young
huntsman on a serviceable pony. At the beginning of the scrub country that came
with striking abruptness immediately after the green of the oasis, a sparrow
now flew from a thorn-bush. Ibrahim wheeled his pony and called out, ‘Bind! Bird!’
‘He says there is a bird,’ said Jacob.
‘It is unreasonable to expect him to know what is
common to Arklow and Algiers,’ said Stephen. ‘Could you
perhaps desire him to take notice only of reptiles, quadrupeds, and their
tracks?’
This Jacob did, but very kindly: and before they were
ten minutes from the oasis, young Ibrahim had shown them the footprints of
several jackals, a hyena, and the trace of a very considerable serpent, five to
six feet long. ‘I am almost certain that it was malpolon monspessulanus. I had
one as a pet when I was a boy.’
‘Was it a satisfactory pet?’
‘There was a degree of recognition, and a certain
tolerance: nothing more.’
The road grew steeper, winding up in curves
laboriously cut into the rock and embanked: as the sun climbed the men and
their horses tired, and at one particular left-handed corner pointed out by
Ibrahim they were happy to turn off the road to a small platform where one of
those improbable springs sometimes found in limestone flowed from a cleft, its
water making a green stripe down the slope for a hundred yards and more. As
they rested they saw another horseman, very well-mounted, toiling up where they
had toiled; and while they were still staring, eating dates as they did so,
they heard the sound of hoofs on the road higher up. The two riders passed the
corner at almost the same moment: they shouted a greeting but did not draw
rein. It was evident that they were the Dey’s messengers.
On. Up and up, this time to
the very top of the ridge, where the forest began, a fine open forest, and
although the trees were somewhat wind-stunted on the brow itself, the road had
not descended five minutes before it was winding through noble oaks, with
beeches here and there, and chestnuts and sometimes an incongruous yew. And
presently,where the path narrowed to thread between
tall crags on either side there was a gate with huts for soldiers right and
left: a small open plain beyond it.
Ibrahim rode forward and showed the Vizier’s pass.
The guards opened the gate, saluting in the elegant Muslim fashion. On the
little plain - ten acres or so of grass - the riders stopped to gaze down over
the sea of tree-tops to the vast expanse of the Shatt el Khadna. The valley of
the stream that fed it was hidden from view by the mountain range, rising and
falling in irregular waves; but the lake itself was a noble sight, and its
splendour was increased by the presence of birds quite close at hand and
overhead, which added a great deal to the sense of height, distance and
immobility on the one hand, and to that of a totally different essence on the
other. The birds - vultures for the most part, with two more distant eagles and
some trifling black kites - were far above, wholly free in the limitless sky;
and the nearer group (all griffons) were in constant smooth motion, mounting
and mounting in spirals on a current rising from the warm mountain-side.
‘Ibrahim says that these are the stakes used for
impaling,’ said Jacob.
‘Certainly,’ replied Stephen. ‘And since vultures are
in general very faithful to their sources of supply, I have been wondering
whether any of those wheeling above us will drop down for leavings. Not the
griffons, I think: they are too cautious. But there is a bearded vulture, a
friend of my boyhood, and very glad I am to see him here, together with two
black vultures, those bold rapacious creatures. Do you see them?’