Though no man was likely to see the deed, what about the women? Day and men and their liveliness made it easy to forget, but he knew full well that few actions in Turkey went unobserved by the silent sentinels of harem eyes. What would women think? Wouldn’t they rejoice that one of their number was about to be freed?
Earlier, from the Pasha’s gardens, peacock cries had sounded. Now, with a ruffling of feathers, the birds settled. From that lesser house, jutting into the moonlight on his right, he heard an infant wail, very like the fowl, he thought. The mother hushed it. That most intimate of exchanges, surpassing, in some ways, even that between lovers, caught its talons in the pit of his stomach. How separate he felt from the joys of hearth and home!
But by these means I shall \Nin such pleasures for myself, Andrea insisted to his seething brain. From tonight on, I shall no longer be on the outside looking in.
The only problem remained how long they’d waited. Sofia couldn’t be spending the night with her friend, could she? Andrea knew harem doors were universally closed and locked at dark. But he also knew Sofia. She would have her ways around such constraints.
Another gust of northern wind, and the moon shivered out of her gauzy veil again. The faucet before the mosque would have an icicle on the end of its nose in the morning when the pious came. But he would not be there to see the prayerful, made brave by faith, crack the crust and plunge in with the muezzin’s first sleepy call of the morning. The notion gave him a brief pang which w 2ls, he assured himself, only the wind, cutting more to the quick. Andrea drew the cloak tighter about himself. He let his eyes catch heat from the faint gleam of gold trim on the sedan chair seen through the palace gates.
This sight was enough to settle his resolve.
In no more time than piety allowed, the mosque emptied. Then, as if on that cue, the Pasha’s palace disgorged the awaited sedan.
Rather than heading straight back for the Sultan’s palace, the conveyance obliged him vet further by turning down this very passageway. It halted not four yards from where he stood, pressed against the minaret wall.
Finally, wonder of wonders, the bearers were dismissed to go warm themselves in the public house around the corner.
That left only the eunuch, leaning against the sedan door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching, waiting. And perhaps Ghazanfer wasn’t to be counted as the enemy. He had dismissed the bearers, after all. Certainly he hated Sultan Selim. And loved his mistress. He would not care to be parted from her or do an\-thing she did not approve. Once the khadim saw Sofia’s joy at the prospect of freedom and Venice, surely it would not take much to bring him along. Particularly since a eunuch who had failed to protect his charge could not expect the respite of the Seven Towers before he’d find himself at the bottom of the Bosphorus.
Andrea hoped he could keep his minions at bay long enough to give the poor capon a chance.
Yes, the plan seemed God-ordained, just like the .Arsenal plot. Or perhaps, it was merely too good to be true.
The grasping Turkish moon hazily lit the enclosing walls in solid blades and wedges. A low whistle rose from these stacked shadows. Andrea turned his concentration to the task at hand.
A second replied. This whistle was almost lost in the openness where the walls gave way to the huge space of the ruined Hippodrome. The third fellow was closest to the action. His whistle came from down this tortured intestine of an alley, near where it crumbled away altogether. The solid ground under Sokolli Pasha ‘s palace and the entire neighborhood was here revealed to be a sham. Anciently, huge arched supports had leveled the natural sharp incline from the Hippodrome down to the sea. Horses for the Byzantine circus had stabled in these caverns. When the horses had gone, the homeless.
And now...Sofia Baffo.
Andrea worked up spit
Earlier, from the Pasha’s gardens, peacock cries had sounded. Now, with a ruffling of feathers, the birds settled. From that lesser house, jutting into the moonlight on his right, he heard an infant wail, very like the fowl, he thought. The mother hushed it. That most intimate of exchanges, surpassing, in some ways, even that between lovers, caught its talons in the pit of his stomach. How separate he felt from the joys of hearth and home!
But by these means I shall \Nin such pleasures for myself, Andrea insisted to his seething brain. From tonight on, I shall no longer be on the outside looking in.
The only problem remained how long they’d waited. Sofia couldn’t be spending the night with her friend, could she? Andrea knew harem doors were universally closed and locked at dark. But he also knew Sofia. She would have her ways around such constraints.
Another gust of northern wind, and the moon shivered out of her gauzy veil again. The faucet before the mosque would have an icicle on the end of its nose in the morning when the pious came. But he would not be there to see the prayerful, made brave by faith, crack the crust and plunge in with the muezzin’s first sleepy call of the morning. The notion gave him a brief pang which w 2ls, he assured himself, only the wind, cutting more to the quick. Andrea drew the cloak tighter about himself. He let his eyes catch heat from the faint gleam of gold trim on the sedan chair seen through the palace gates.
This sight was enough to settle his resolve.
In no more time than piety allowed, the mosque emptied. Then, as if on that cue, the Pasha’s palace disgorged the awaited sedan.
Rather than heading straight back for the Sultan’s palace, the conveyance obliged him vet further by turning down this very passageway. It halted not four yards from where he stood, pressed against the minaret wall.
Finally, wonder of wonders, the bearers were dismissed to go warm themselves in the public house around the corner.
That left only the eunuch, leaning against the sedan door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching, waiting. And perhaps Ghazanfer wasn’t to be counted as the enemy. He had dismissed the bearers, after all. Certainly he hated Sultan Selim. And loved his mistress. He would not care to be parted from her or do an\-thing she did not approve. Once the khadim saw Sofia’s joy at the prospect of freedom and Venice, surely it would not take much to bring him along. Particularly since a eunuch who had failed to protect his charge could not expect the respite of the Seven Towers before he’d find himself at the bottom of the Bosphorus.
Andrea hoped he could keep his minions at bay long enough to give the poor capon a chance.
Yes, the plan seemed God-ordained, just like the .Arsenal plot. Or perhaps, it was merely too good to be true.
The grasping Turkish moon hazily lit the enclosing walls in solid blades and wedges. A low whistle rose from these stacked shadows. Andrea turned his concentration to the task at hand.
A second replied. This whistle was almost lost in the openness where the walls gave way to the huge space of the ruined Hippodrome. The third fellow was closest to the action. His whistle came from down this tortured intestine of an alley, near where it crumbled away altogether. The solid ground under Sokolli Pasha ‘s palace and the entire neighborhood was here revealed to be a sham. Anciently, huge arched supports had leveled the natural sharp incline from the Hippodrome down to the sea. Horses for the Byzantine circus had stabled in these caverns. When the horses had gone, the homeless.
And now...Sofia Baffo.
Andrea worked up spit
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