Evil in a Mask (20 page)

The Golden Horn was spanned by a long row of
caiques
lashed together and overlaid with a road of boards, a section in the centre being easily detached so that, from time to time, it could be moved to allow the passage of water traffic. As Roger crossed this bridge of boats, he was interested to see that, while the Pera shore was almost hidden by a forest of masts rising from scores of closely-packed ships, showing the enormous trade carried on by Constantinople with other ports in the Mediterranean, only a few heavily-gilded barges were moored on the Stamboul side. They were, Achmet told him, the Sultan's pleasure boats, in which at times he took some of his ladies of the harem on trips to his other palaces further up the Bosphorus, across in Scutari, or down to the islands beyond the point, in the Marmora. On the shore there were two large pavilions. Beyond them stood the tall, crenellated wall that enclosed the Sultan's huge private domain. Above it could be seen many acres of gardens sloping up to the massed buildings forming the Topkapi Palace.

Having crossed the Galata bridge, they passed the splendid Fatima Mosque and the Tomb of Suliman the Magnificent, then entered a warren of narrow ways crowded with dark-robed, veiled women, street vendors and men selling bread rings on sticks, until they reached the Grand Bazaar.

It consisted of a covered area in which, according to Achmet, there were over a thousand shops. The walkways were criss-cross parallels, with no signs to differentiate one from another, and Achmet confessed that even he might well get lost in them. Every conceivable item of Eastern food, clothes, furniture, apparel and
objets d'art
could be brought there: perfumes, spices, jewels, weapons, cooking utensils and imported goods from China, Persia, India, Africa and Europe.

Their first call was on a money-changer. Roger had transferred a handful of gold Napoleons from his money belt to his breeches pocket. Casually he put them on the counter. Achmet did the bargaining and, after ten minutes of mingled persuasion and abuse, secured what Roger thought was probably a fairly reasonable rate of exchange. They then proceeded to do their shopping. First they bought a large, cylindrical woven basket to contain their purchases; then, item by item,
packed into it a complete outfit of rich clothes such as were worn by Balkan noblemen and wealthy merchants.

When they got back to Roger's room at the Embassy, he put his hand in his pocket, smiled at Achmet and suddenly cried, ‘Catch.' As he spoke he threw Achmet a gold coin and added, ‘That is your pay for today.'

Achmet caught the coin, looked at it and gasped with stupefaction. It was more than he could have earned in a month. Almost tongue-tied with gratitude, he stammered his thanks and protested his eternal devotion to such a generous master.

With a gesture Roger silenced him and said in a quiet, firm voice, ‘I have things to do in this city, which do not concern His Excellency the Ambassador or any of the officers with whom I arrived here. Serve me faithfully and say no word to your fellow Janissaries of where I go and you shall receive another gold piece every day. But I give you warning. I have powerful friends inside the Seraglio. Should it come to my ears that you have spoken of my doings, those friends of mine will see to it that your tongue is torn out.'

Having paused to let his words sink in, Roger went on. ‘Now, take this basket containing the apparel I have bought. Go over again to Stamboul and rent for me there a room in the dwelling of a discreet man, where I can change into Balkan costume without his talking of the matter to his neighbours. Here,' he added, producing two more gold coins and handing them to Achmet, ‘is money that you are to give him as an advance payment for the accommodation and his discretion.'

Salaaming, Achmet took the coins, picked up the basket and, with further expressions of his willingness to do as he was bid, bowed himself out of the room.

From midday on, it had become very hot, so Roger stripped to his underclothes, lay down on his bed and, for a couple of hours, enjoyed a siesta. Late in the afternoon the welcome breeze from the north-west, which is a feature of Constantinople's climate, began to blow, making the city much cooler. Getting up, Roger dressed and went down to see the secretary
who acted as the Embassy's treasurer. His trip to Vienna, buying the pair of gold candlesticks and his purchases that morning had nearly run him out of ready money; so he presented his draft and drew in Turkish gold the equivalent of two hundred Napoleons.

Next morning, Achmet reported that he had secured for Roger a room over the shop of a tailor, who made uniforms for the Janissaries, was an old friend and could be relied on not to talk.

However, as it happened, that day, May 16th, was a Friday, and Roger felt that the Mahommedan Sabbath was not at all a suitable day to undertake the project he had in mind. So, joining a number of his fellow officers, he went with them on an expedition up the Bosphorus.

On the Saturday morning, soon after he had breakfasted, he set off with Achmet and again crossed the Golden Horn. Arriving at the tailor's shop, he had a brief talk with the man, implying that he was engaged in a clandestine love affair.

He then produced from what Ahmet, with popping eyes, now assumed to be his inexhaustible supply of gold, three more pieces, which the tailor gratefully accepted, promising on the Koran to say no word about his new tenant's activities.

In the room upstairs, with Achmet's help, Roger changed into the Eastern clothes; then, telling Achmet to await his return, he went out.

Unremarked by the crowds of turbaned men and veiled women, he made his way up to the gate in the high wall that gives entrance to the Topkapi Palace. In its great First Court, the public were admitted, although only high officials were allowed to ride and a rule of silence was enforced by the presence of numerous halberdiers. Crossing the Court, Roger came to a second gate, called the Ortakapi. This was guarded by some fifty Janissaries, one of whom, wearing yellow boots, came forward and asked Roger's business.

‘I am,' Roger replied, ‘a Greek merchant, and my principle trade is with Venice. When I was there some weeks ago, I chanced to become acquainted with a French officer of high rank. He was on his way to Constantinople with a gift from
the Emperor of the French to—Allah preserve her and blessed be his name and that of his Prophet—our beloved Sultan Validé. The poor man was stricken of a fever which carried him off; but before he died, knowing that I was returning here, he asked me to act for him and deliver the present to Her Imperial Majesty.'

It was a plausible story and, after a moment's consideration, the Janissary said, ‘It is by no means easy to obtain an audience with the Sultan Validé.'

Roger smiled. ‘I appreciate that.' Then he slipped two gold coins into the man's hand, and added, ‘But I promised to deliver this present personally, and I am sure Her Imperial Majesty would be happy to receive it. Please see what you can do for me.'

The Janissary shrugged, led Roger into a small room on the left, under the arch of the gate, and said, ‘Wait here.'

It was over an hour before the Janissary returned. With him he brought a hugely fat, sullen-faced man with many chins, dressed in rich fur robes and wearing a two-foot-high conical hat. Roger guessed him to be the Kapi Aga, Chief of the White Eunuchs who, many years earlier, had been degraded from charge of the harem to that of the Selámlek—those parts of the palace in which men were allowed—and who performed the functions of porters, teachers to the pages and other duties, according to their degree. To this high official Roger made a low obeisance and repeated his story.

The eunuch eyed Roger coldly, made a negative motion with his head which caused the fat flesh below his chin to wobble, and replied, ‘Her Sublimity the Veiled Crown does not receive persons of your sort. Give me the present from the French Sultana of whom you speak and I will lay it at the feet of Her Imperial Majesty.'

Roger salaamed again and said earnestly, ‘
Effendi
, I swore an oath on the Koran to this dying Frenchman that I would personally deliver the present to Our Lady Protectress of all Veiled Women. I pray you, grant me a word alone.'

With a swift gesture, the Kapi Aga dismissed the Janissary. When he had left the room, Roger produced a string purse
that he had ready. It held twenty-five gold pieces. Handing it to the monstrous creature facing him, he said, ‘your Excellency must support many charities. Permit me to offer this humble contribution.'

The small, pursed-up mouth in the great, flabby mask of fat crumpled into the semblance of a smile. Tossing the heavy purse gently in his beringed hand, he said, ‘Such contributions from rich merchants are welcome. Be here tomorrow at the same time. Bring with you two purses of gold of the same weight. I promise nothing. But the black swine who now order all things beyond the Gate of Felicity are greedy and must be won over to grant your application. The blessing of Allah—blessed be his name and that of his Prophet—be upon you.'

In the room over the tailor's shop Roger changed back into uniform, then returned with Achmet to the French Embassy. To penetrate the Seraglio was costing him a lot of money, but he had anticipated that it would, and he was not unsatisfied with the progress he had so far made.

Next day, he again presented himself at the First Gate, this time carrying a handsome, round-lidded casket he had had Ahmet buy for him, containing the gold candlesticks. Pressing another couple of gold pieces into the Janissary's hand, he asked him to inform the Kapi Aga of his presence. A quarter of an hour later, the Chief of the White Eunuchs came into the waiting room. After salutations had been exchanged, Roger handed over the two purses of gold. The Kapi Aga pocketed one, but returned the other, saying. ‘That you will give to the tall, black eunuch at the Gate of Felicity. I have arranged matters, and he will escort you to the apartments of Her Sublimity, the Wearer of the Veiled Crown.'

Beckoning Roger to follow, the white eunuch waddled out of the room and led the way into the Second Court: a great, open space divided by a central avenue of cypresses, on either side of which were beds of several thousand roses in bloom.

As Roger followed, it suddenly struck him that he might be behaving with incredible foolhardiness. He could perfectly well have remained at the French Embassy and passed his time innocently sightseeing. But, being the man he was, he
had been tempted into seeking this audience with the Sultan Validé.

By talking with her, he hoped to achieve one of two things. He could imply that the Emperor would have no great difficulty in defeating the Czar unaided; therefore, in view of the unrest in Turkey's European provinces, she would be wise to keep her garrisons there at full strength rather than reduce them to send more troops against the Russians. Thus he could help the Allied cause. On the other hand if, owing to her devotion to France, she was set upon providing troops, he could later increase his standing with Napoleon by leading him to believe that Gardane's mission would have failed had not he, Roger, held private conversations with the Sultana.

But now it struck him that he was taking a considerable risk. To carry any weight with her he must declare himself to be
Colonel de Chevalier de Breuc
, a member of Napoleon's personal staff, and pretend that he had been commissioned by the Empress Josephine to bring her a present.

It was just possible that she had learned from her daughter, Zanthé, what had befallen her in Cairo. Roger had saved her from being raped by a dozen drunken soldiers, then sold by them for a few francs a time to scores of their comrades. But the fact remained that, having rescued her, and knowing her to be married, he had ravished her himself, although ignorant of the fact that she was still a virgin. If the Sultan Validé knew only the latter part of that story and realised that it was Roger who had deflowered her daughter, she might even order him to be castrated.

As Roger followed the Kapi Aga across the Second Court, he barely glanced to his left at the row of ten huge kitchens, each with a tall chimney, or at the stables and Hall of the Dewan, surmounted by a short, square tower and steeple, on his right. His mind was occupied by very uneasy thoughts and, as the eunuch walked with a slow waddle, there was ample time for Roger to contemplate the highly dangerous situation in which he had landed himself.

He had last seen Zanthé and her husband at the first reception Napoleon had given in the Tuileries after being elected First Consul. That they were then in Paris was due to Achilles Sarodopulous' having been sent by his father to open a branch of the family bank in the French capital. In view of his past relations with Zanthé, Roger had thought it only fair to Achilles who, while he was in Egypt had proved a good friend to him, to refrain from seeking them out on his subsequent visits to Paris—much as he would have liked to see Zanthé's little son of whom he knew himself to be the father; but, as far as he was aware, they were still in Paris.

If so, it was most unlikely that Zanthé had made the long journey to Constantinople to see her mother and told her all that had befallen her in Egypt. There was, too, the fact that having renounced Islam and become a Christian of the Orthodox Greek Church, in order to marry Achilles, Zanthé had raised another bar between herself and her family.

But there remained the possibility that mother and daughter continued to correspond. If so, Zanthé might have given her mother an account of the months she had spent in Egypt and Syria. Roger endeavoured to still his uneasiness by the
thought that, if she had, she would not have revealed in a letter the fact that she had been the mistress of a French officer. But of that he could not be certain, and this doubt now became uppermost in his mind.

He was not given to panicking, but for a moment he felt that, in seeking an audience with the Sultan Validé, he had taken an absurd risk to achieve what, at best, could prove only a gain of no great importance. But it was now too late to turn back; so he continued to follow the ponderous footsteps of the Chief of the White Eunuchs and, by a great effort of will, forced himself to recall instead all he had heard from Zanthé and, more recently, Achmet about the Seraglio.