“Do not look so, my dove,” Jawharah exclaimed. “Sorrow passes as surely as night passes into day. Joy returns as does the sun.”
Impulsively, Julia reached out to touch the other woman’s hand. “You have been a true friend to me, Jawharah,” she said. “I would have been lost without you.”
“And, I would have been lost without your bravery in speaking to Ali Dey for the women of the harem. How you ever dared I cannot imagine.”
“He is not such a formidable man.”
“Perhaps not, to a beautiful young woman,” Jawharah returned.
“What you are hinting had nothing to do with his agreeing to what I asked.”
The other woman glanced at Julia, at her bright, sun-touched hair and the mysterious depths of her eyes. “Did it not? I can see you are still not used to men who look at each woman who comes under their influence as possible bed mates. No doubt Ali Dey was not easy enough on this throne to let his mind wander strongly in such a direction at the time, but I would take care how I put myself in his power again.”
“You sound as if you do not approve of Ali Dey as a ruler,” Julia observed.
“Did I say so?” the other woman asked, her eyes wide. She glanced about as though she expected to see listeners who might report what was said to the dey. There were none. The roof opened wide around them, except for the house’s solid walls that rose on two sides, lending the shade in which they sat. There was no one near, though Basim hovered somewhere inside the room from which they had reached the roof garden, waiting within call against the time when Julia would be ready to leave. Jawharah went on with emphasis, “I certainly did not mean to cast doubts upon the ability of Ali Dey. He is a strong man such as is needed in the post. I have no fault to find with him, none whatever.”
“Nor I,” Julia said, as much from conviction as because of Jawharah’s frantic signal. She was as aware as the other woman that spies were everywhere. She had simply thought it not quite so imperative to be wary here in a private home as in the palace.
“Ali Dey is a vastly better ruler for us than Kemal, the once fat, would have been. Do you not agree?”
“Undoubtedly,” Julia answered, puzzled by the curious epithet Jawharah had given Kemal.
“It would be a good thing if matters were so arranged that there could be no danger of Kemal succeeding to the honors of his grandfather, or of his cousin, Ali Dey.”
“This is so,” Julia answered, and waited. So much lip service to the excellence of the present dey must have some further point.
“If Ali Dey could be informed of the presence of Kemal, he would surely destroy his cousin’s hopes of replacing him.”
“He has been searching for him diligently these many weeks for just such a purpose,” Julia agreed.
“Verily, and the quarry hidden away beneath his nose,” Jawharah whispered as one awestruck.
Why could the woman not come straight out and say what she meant? Would it spoil the pleasure of having information to impart, decrease the importance of it? Or, would it simply make it too easy for eavesdroppers to understand? How tired she was of these devious twists of the mind. “You mean you know where Kemal is?”
“Not so loud,” Jawharah hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I have no wish to become involved again with the business of the mighty. My simple life with my husband and the prospect of a child to enliven my days satisfy me. I bestir myself to jeopardize such a peaceful existence only that I may, by so doing, pay the debt I owe you and to Ali Dey, and make my present way of life more secure. Kemal has a vicious temper and a long memory. No doubt he knows, or suspects, that you were instrumental in his downfall, and he has been in a position these last few months to notice that we, you and I, are still friends. Such a close connection with his enemy would not be ignored if he returned to the throne.”
“You mean you fear reprisal because you associate with me, if Kemal should come to power?”
“I fear it not only for myself, but for my husband and my child.”
“If that is so, I am sorry,” Julia said. “But you must tell me what you mean by your hints. Have you seen the once-fat relative of him who is in paradise, that you can describe him? Is this one somewhere close in hiding that he has seen the visits I make to your house?”
“You have penetrated to the truth. On the occasions when I went with you and the Lady Fatima to sit behind the viewing screen over the audience chamber, I took careful note of the features of Kemal. There, too, I saw the Frankistani of the sharp eyes and the fall lips who is the hireling of the French consul. It is possible I would not have recognized Kemal if I had not seen the other also.”
“Where?” Julia insisted. “When?”
“I saw them once together, entering the coffee house in the alley which leads from this street below. It is a poor place where the thick fog of opium smoke rolls from the door. It may be that Kemal has a room above it, for I also saw him once coming from the alley alone, without the Frankistani. If you were to see him, you would not credit that it was he. Even I, who have had much training in the recognition of men’s faces, nearly passed over him as an Arab street beggar. He is thinner by far than when last we saw him. His face is sunburned, his clothing dirty, and the nails on his hands broken and black with grime.”
“You are certain it was he?”
“I am certain. I watched him from this roof for the space of time it takes to come from the end of the street to this alley. There could be no mistake.”
Julia drew a deep breath. “If it is so, and Reuben can carry this information to Ali Dey, it may be that in his gratitude the dey will allow Reuben and me to return to our homeland.”
“If this comes to pass, Jullanar, my dove, my heart will beat with gladness for you, though tears may fill my eyes.”
“And, I shall miss you and long for your sage counsel wherever I may be,” Julia replied. “Still, you will understand if I depart from you in haste now?”
“I will understand,” Jawharah said, and embraced her. Stepping back, she clapped her hands, a signal to Basim that his mistress was ready to depart.
Once away from the house, Basim moved close to the curtains of Julia’s litter. “My Lady Jullanar, do I have your permission to speak?” he asked, his voice low.
“Certainly, Basim.”
“Touching upon this matter of importance of which you and the Lady Jawharah spoke. Might it not require more investigation before the subject is broached to Reuben Effendi?”
With resignation, Julia accepted the fact that Basim had listened to their conversation. His suggestion had merit. “What did you have in mind?”
“A child playing near this coffee house of which the wife of the rug dealer spoke might see much, and if in his innocence he were to find entry, he might hear more.”
It would be a relief to have the identity of Kemal confirmed by someone who had seen him many more times than Jawharah. Julia did not doubt Basim’s ability to appear to be a small boy; still, it was a dangerous undertaking. If Basim could recognize Kemal in his disguise, the reverse might also be true. “Is it worth the risk?” she asked.
“As a matter of vengeance, yes, a hundred times over. As a matter of service to you, fair mistress, then yes, a thousand times.”
The dwarf had been silent in the main concerning his treatment at the hands of Kemal, and concerning the crime of which he had been accused. His feet had healed, recovering their quick movement, and, officially, all was forgotten. But sometimes his soft eyes would grow hard and he would finger his small scimitar as if in urgent need of some outlet for his anger.
Julia drew a deep breath. “You are a man, Basim. You must do as you will.”
The decision, so quickly made, tormented Julia, though she would not have unsaid it if she could. Basim was no slave of hers, or of Rud’s. For all his small size, he was a free Mussulman. His allegiance had been to Mehemet Dey; he served her only because of the duty imposed upon him by the old dey as he lay upon his deathbed. Neverthel
ess, when night fell without the reappearance of the dwarf, she grew pale with worry. He could be so easily disarmed by those larger and stronger than he. To kill him would be no more difficult than snuffing out the life of a child. If anything happened to him, she would hold herself responsible for the rest of her days.
The moon rose, pouring its golden light into the sleeping chamber. Julia, lying awake beside Rud’s sleeping form, listened for some sound that would indicate Basim’s return. There was none. She tortured herself with wondering if she should wake her husband and explain what had happened, leaving the weighty problems of whether to inform Ali Dey of Jawharah’s suspicions on his shoulders. But what if Rud told Ali, and it all came to nothing? Would the dey not think less of Rud for listening to the tales of women? What if he retaliated in some manner for the false report, perhaps with reprimands and demotion? His behavior, if he was made to look foolish because of unnecessary precautions, was unpredictable. No, she could not bring herself to risk it. Not yet.
At breakfast, Rud asked, “Where is Basim? He did not serve us last night at dinner, and is not in evidence this morning.”
“I don’t know,” Julia answered. “It may be he had business of his own to occupy him away from the palace.”
“He has never had any before,” Rud pointed out.
The need to inform Rud of what was happening and ask his advice warred with caution in her mind. The result was an irritation of the nerves which made her answer sharper than it might otherwise have been. “Basim is not a slave. He does not have to answer to us for his comings and goings, nor am I responsible for his whereabouts.”
Rud looked at her with a frown between his brows. “What is the matter with you? Your tossing and turning kept me awake half the night, and you look like death this morning.”
“There is nothing whatever the matter with me,” Julia replied, angered, unreasonably, by both his acumen and his obtuseness. Any other husband would have failed to notice her haggard looks, or if he had, would have immediately attributed them to monthly causes or the confinement of her present position.
Rud stared at her a moment longer, his blue eyes cool, then got to his feet. Taking up his scimitar, he strapped it about his waist. With swift sure movements, he wrapped the turban of muslin he was now entitled to wear about his head and tucked the end into place.
With some idea of reaching him quickly if necessary, Julia asked, “Where will you be today?”
“With the dey, as usual,” he answered. Moving toward her, he gave her a hard, unsmiling kiss. As he turned toward the door, a serving woman rushed to open the panel for him and close it quietly behind him. If it had not been for the woman’s aid, Julia thought, he might have slammed from the apartments.
Waiting. It was all she seemed to do. Without doubt, it was the lot of women who must depend upon men to play the active part in the drama of their lives. Was it any wonder that sometimes, when they could, women too their revenge by forcing men to wait upon them?
The garden was in shadow and the heat of the day was already leaving the stone walls under the dews of evening when Basim at last appeared. He was white about the mouth, and his bow was somewhat stiff as he presented himself to her, although he seemed unhurt.
“Basim,” she cried, getting to her feet and giving him her hand to kiss. “I have been sick with worry. Are you well?”
“I am as you see me, well indeed, my lady Jullanar,” he answered. “I would have been with you much sooner except for stupidity and ill fortune.”
“You are here now,” Julia said. “Be seated, and tell me what has occurred.”
As she returned to her bench in the garden, Basim folded his legs and sank down at her feet. “My lady, it happened in this manner. I altered my appearance and went to the coffee house mentioned by the Lady Jawharah. There I found Kemal, just as she had said. He was changed, but recognizable. No sooner had I ascertained this than the Frankistani who is his ally also arrived. Together, they mounted the stairs to a chamber above. In good time, I followed. They were, however, most careful. It was not easy to come upon them at a listening distance. Yet, with patience and agility, I did so by way of the balconies. With my own ears, I heard Kemal and the Frankistani plotting with a third person, who was, I think, the favorite boy of Kemal. They plan to enter the palace in one night’s time and strangle the dey with the tasseled ropes of his bed curtains while he sleeps.”
Julia drew a sharp breath. “Could such a thing be done? Could they enter the palace, get past the guards?”
“Money is a key which opens many doors. Those guards who will not look the other way must be overcome. At the time when the deed will have been done, the followers loyal to Kemal are to attack the palace, surging into the breach left behind by the others. They hope for quick victory’ with surprise on their side. They expect the Janissaries, when they find Kemal in possession of the palace and supported by the French government, to give him their blessing.”
“I see,” Julia said thoughtfully.
“It is at this point in my adventure that my renowned magic deserted me. With the information for which I had come in my possession, I left the balcony and thought to return back through a sleeping chamber and down the stairs to the main room of the coffee house and into the street. When I was halfway across the sleeping chamber, I heard someone approaching, about to enter. Quickly, I lifted the lid of a clothing chest and slipped inside, burrowing beneath hot woolen burnooses scented with camphor, and a multitude of soiled pantaloons. Kemal and his favorite entered and laid themselves upon the couch. They did not rise until noon. I might have crept out in the night if I had not myself fallen asleep during the long wait for them to cease their play. My magic was still not returned, for by some ill chance, Kemal chose that very sleeping chamber in which to hold a meeting of the commanders of his followers. The details of their attack made for interesting listening, but I was most uncomfortable, I do assure you, my lady. It was only an hour ago that I was able to leave my suffocating prison. I fear the clothing in the chest will never be worn by a fastidious man again, though I absolve Kemal of all claim to such a title. In any case, when I deliver my message this night, he will no longer have need of his winter wardrobe.”
This night? Of course. Basim had heard the plan of attack the night before. This very evening was the time of Ali Dey’s great danger. “What are you waiting for?” Julia cried. “You must go at once to warn the dey!”
“Think you he would trust me after I have been accused of poisoning his uncle? I think it much more likely that he would put me to the test of pain first to be certain my tongue speaks the truth.”
“Surely not?”
“It is not a chance I would like to take. Those in mortal pain can enjoy vengeance very little.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Julia asked.
“If you will write a letter, using the extraordinary wisdom you possess, for a woman, of this art, I will take it to Reuben Effendi. Ali Dey once heeded a warning from you and profited by it. He may do so again, especially if it is delivered in the person of your master.”
Julia did not care for that designation, but this was no time to argue. “Very well,” she said, and clapped her hands, calling for pen and paper.
Basim did not return. The only indication Julia had that he had reached Rud with her message was the fact that Rud did not leave the side of the dey to return to the apartments either. It seemed to her overwrought mind that there was an uneasy quiet about the palace. After dinner, her serving women retired for the night, leaving her alone in the quiet emptiness of the gulphor. She took up a book of Persian love poems and put it down again, unable to concentrate. Her fingers stiff with nerves, she made a botch of her needlework and cast it aside also. Unable to stand the closed-in feeling of walls around her, she stepped out into the garden, breathing the soft night air.
It was there that she heard the first cries echoing across the vast complex of courtyards. “The dey has been attacked! Someone has tri
ed to kill the dey!”
Like a beehive that has been invaded, the palace erupted with noise and confusion. The clatter of running footsteps came from all directions, as hard upon one catastrophe came another, an assault upon one of the main gates to the palace. The rattle and clash of musketry could be heard once more, as it had so short a time ago. The tread of marching men sounded outside the entrance to Julia’s apartments, then an order was barked. When Julia looked out, she saw the eunuchs, who had stood for so many days outside like guardian statues, being marched away at a quick step.
The urge to follow was nearly overpowering. She wanted so badly to know what was happening; if Basim and Rud had managed to warn the dey in time, if the would-be assassins had been caught, and if anyone had been injured in the attempt. For all she knew, Rud and Basim and Ali Dey might be lying dead somewhere and the palace filled with Kemal’s men. No, that could not be true, she tried to reassure herself, for then the cry that had gone up would not have been that someone had tried to kill the dey, but that the dey was dead. No doubt everyone who could was fighting to prevent the takeover by Kemal’s followers. She must not get in their way.
She paced the floor, beating the palms of her hands together. The sound of fighting and of men hurrying here and there had died away, and stiff no one came. Once more, she walked out into the garden and stood straining to hear. She sniffed the night wind for the taint of smoke, but this time there was none. Above her, the multistoried towers of the palace rose into the calm night sky. Here and there, windows glowed from the light within. Sometimes the light dimmed as though a figure had passed between the lamp and the window, but no fiery tongues of flame leaped at the walls. All was serene.
Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets) Page 42