Evil in a Mask rb-9

by Dennis Wheatley

  Suddenly the sentry caught sight of the splendid turban, be­decked with jewels and surmounted by an aigrette, worn by the figure slumped in the stern of the boat. His eyes started from his head and his mouth gaped open. Without another word he turned and ran up the steep slope.

  Ten minutes later Evilya Pasha came swiftly padding down it in slippers and a hastily-donned robe. Briefly the Prince told him what had occurred. Salaaming profoundly to the Sultan, the Pasha expressed his distress and unshaken loyalty. Then the officers to whom he had sent to be roused with orders to follow him down, helped the refugees from the boat and up to the castle.

  There the Pasha's chief wife welcomed Aimde and Fatima and took them to rooms that had been hastily prepared for them in the harem. Before they left the men, Aimee turned to Roger and said:

  'Monsieur le Chevalier, it is to you we owe our lives; a debt we shall never be able to repay.'

  Selim then took from round his neck a ribbon from which depended a magnificent star and crescent jewel which he wore on all occasions. Passing the ribbon over Roger's head, he said with tears in his eyes:

  'My good friend, you are well named "le brave Breuc". While I am still Sultan it is my happiness to decorate you with the highest honour that it is within the power of the ruler of the Turkish Empire to bestow.'

  Somehow Roger managed to stammer his thanks; but the pain in his hands and shoulder were agonising, and he was utterly exhausted. Later, his memory of what happened after that was only a vague knowledge that several people had un­dressed him, put soothing ointment on his wounds, bandaged them and got him between the cool sheets on a comfortable divan.

  It was not until late in the afternoon that he awoke. Seated cross-legged on the floor opposite him he saw a Turkish man­servant. As their eyes met, the man smiled, got up and left the room. Ten minutes later, he returned with coffee, rolls shaped like small quoits, sweet cakes and a large dish of fruit After his exertions of the previous night, Roger felt hungry and would have welcomed an English breakfast, with a choice of half a dozen hot dishes, and York ham to follow, washed down with good Bordeaux; but he made do as well as he could on the rolls, spread with roseleaf jam, and fruit.

  When he had done, the servant held out for him a robe of Turkish towelling, then took him along to the Hamam. To him this was no new experience, as he had frequently availed himself of the Turkish baths when in Egypt. More than once he had felt ashamed by the fact that, as a whole, Orientals kept themselves cleaner than Europeans, the majority of whom had a bath only two or three times a year—and even most of the upper classes only once a week—whereas in Cairo and

  Constantinople the public baths were used daily by the greater part of the population. This difference in custom had even led, right up to the preceding reign, to high-caste Turks finding Europeans so smelly that they had insisted on all Ambassadors being steam-bathed in the Seraglio before they were presented to the Sultan.

  After sitting in the hot room for half an hour, while the perspiration trickled off him, Roger took a dip in the pool, then he was shaved and submitted to a massage that miracu­lously restored the vigour to his still-tired muscles. Back in his room, he found that fresh clothes of fine texture had been laid out for him, and that a doctor was waiting there to treat his wounds. They were only superficial and the salve applied early that morning had already done wonders.

  When he had dressed, he was taken down to a small, arcaded court. A fountain was playing in the centre and seated on divans, smoking hookahs, were the Prince, the Kizler Aga and the Pasha.

  Having greeted him warmly and thanked him again for all he had done the previous night, Mahmoud told him that the news was not good, but no worse than was to be expected. All the loyal men in the Nizam-i-jedad had been murdered, and many of the eunuchs. Bands of Janissaries were now roaming the city, seeking out and killing, wherever they found them, the higher officials who were known to have favoured the reforms introduced by Selim. Every shop was shut and every house barred. Many of them were being broken into, but large numbers of the wealthier class had had the sense to collect such valuables as they could carry and hurry to take sanctuary in the mosques. Meanwhile, Prince Mustapha had had himself proclaimed Sultan.

  'Do you think the majority of the people will accept him?' Roger asked.

  'I fear so. You see, he will have the support of many men in high places who resent His Majesty Selim's reforms and he is the Heir Apparent.'

  Roger frowned. ‘I was not aware of that.'

  'It is so. Unlike the European monarchies, with us the crown does not descend from father to son, but to the next eldest living Osmanli Prince, and Mustapha was born before I was. He is the son of Aimee’s husband, the Sultan Abdul-Hamid by an older Kadin.'

  'What of the Army,' Roger enquired. 'Surely a great part of it must hate the Janissaries for the idle, privileged life they lead, while other troops are fighting? There must be many regiments that would support the Sultan Selim in an attempt to regain his throne.'

  It was the Pasha who answered. 'You are right, Effendi. But most of them are either fighting the Russians, or engaged in putting down rebellions in the Balkan provinces. I have sent messengers to such Generals as I believe to be loyal; but there is no body of troops within many weeks' march of Con­stantinople sufficiently strong to defeat the Janissaries.'

  'For how long, Pasha, do you think you can hold out here?'

  The Pasha made a wry face. 'A week perhaps, but. not longer. My men are Bulgars, and can be relied on. But the castle is not provisioned for a siege. We should be starved out'

  'Then we must leave here,' Roger declared promptly. 'With an escort of your men, the Imperial party should be able to reach some more distant place where they will be safer. Still better, they could set off in disguise as a small caravan of perhaps a dozen people.'

  The Kizler Aga shook his dark head. 'It is too late for that, Effendi. By noon Prince Mustapha had learned where my Im­perial Master has taken refuge. Outside the gates of the castle there are now many hundred Janissaries, and on the water side scores more in several galleys. We are already besieged.'

  'Arc you expecting them to attack?'

  'Not yet,' the Prince replied. 'For the moment Prince Mus­tapha must have his hands full in the city. He will probably come out here tomorrow and demand our surrender.'

  'I'll not surrender,' growled the Pasha. 'Not unless I re­ceive a direct order to do so from my Imperial Master.'

  The Prince smiled at him. 'Good friend, you will receive no such order from the Sultan. He is in a sad state of depres­sion, blaming himself now for having rejected my advice to take sterner measures with the Janissaries, and so bringing us all to this terrible pass. But the Sultan Valide has per­suaded him to give me full authority to take all such decisions as are necessary. He will remain in his room; so at least we can die fighting.'

  The evening that followed was one of the most unhappy that Roger had ever spent. It was not that he was afraid to die; as he thought he almost certainly would the next day or the day after, when the castle was attacked. He could not bear the thought of the fate that would befall the courageous and beautiful Aimee when she fell into Prince Mustapha's hands. She was only a little over forty and still infinitely more desirable than any Turkish beauty. Mustapha was, he had gathered, no fool. And no-one but a fool would kill such a pearl among women; but he would take his revenge by humi­liating her. Since she had held the rank of Sultan Valide he could not possibly turn her over to his Janissaries. But he could give her in marriage as a junior wife to one of the most repulsive Pashas who had supported him.

  To take his mind off Aimee Roger thought, as he often did, of his beloved Georgina. She was the great love of his life, and no other woman could ever supplant her. Time and again he had pressed her to marry him, but she had proved adamant in her refusal. She always maintained that it was only because they were separated, often for many months and sometimes even for years, by his work as a secret agent on the Conti
nent, that the flame of their desire for each other had never flickered, and that each time they did come to­gether for a while it was with the same wild, joyous, utterly satisfying passion that they had known in their teens.

  He fell asleep still thinking of her, and she came to him in a dream. So strong was the bond between them that there had been several occasions when he had been in acute danger and her voice had come clearly to him, telling what to do to save himself.

  Now he could see her bending over him. He felt her soft kiss linger on his lips. Then she said, 'Roger, dear heart. To­morrow you will receive an invitation. Take it, and you will have no regrets.'

  When he woke in the morning, he remembered his dream as clearly as though she had come to his room in the flesh. The dream puzzled him greatly, because in his present situa­tion the last thing he expected to receive was an invitation. Then he put the matter from his mind, had breakfast, spent half an hour in the Hamam and dressed.

  It was shortly before midday that a herald emerged from the camp the Janissaries had made opposite the main gate of the castle, and demanded its submission in the name of the Sultan Mustapha IV.

  The Pasha replied from the battlements above the great gate that he knew no Sultan other than His Imperial Majesty Selim III; and that in his name he would defend Rumeli Hisar to the death against all comers.

  The herald retired, then returned ten minutes later, to state that His Imperial Master Mustapha IV desired to preserve his subjects from unnecessary bloodshed. So would the Pasha or some responsible person come out and parley with him?

  Prince Mahmoud was standing on the steps that led up to the battlements above the great gate, and he said to the Pasha, 'Tell the man that, provided none of Prince Mustapha's troops are within four hundred yards of the gate when it is opened, I will do so.'

  The Pasha pleaded with him to be allowed to go himself, insisting that if the Prince went out alone, he would certainly be assassinated. But Mahmoud refused to be moved, and said, 'Your cannon are already trained upon the Janissaries' en­campment. Give orders to your men that, should they see me shot down, they are to fire. Such a volley might well kill Mus­tapha and so save our Sultan. You know the ancient prophecy that, when the last Prince of the House of Osmanli dies, the end of the Turkish Empire will follow. If both Mustapha and I are dead, they will not dare harm His Imperial Majesty.'

  'So be it then, my Prince,' the Pasha submitted. Turning, he shouted the terms to the herald, who agreed them; then he and Mahmoud descended the stone staircase together and ordered the great gate to be unbarred.

  Roger and the Kizler Aga had been standing nearby on the battlements, so they had heard the whole transaction. Now they watched the Janissaries withdraw and Prince Mahmoud leave the castle. A small group of men came forward to meet him, but did not approach beyond the stipulated limit.

  The gunners held their lighted matches ready to apply them to the touch-holes of the cannons should the Prince be attacked. But, after a few minutes, it seemed that the rebels, at least for the present, had no intention of harming him. At a distance of a quarter of a mile it was not possible to see the expressions of the faces of the group or guess from their gest­ures how their discussion was going; but it seemed to be in­terminable.

  At least half an hour went by before Mahmoud bowed to the others, turned and started back towards the castle. Roger, the Pasha and the Kizler Aga were all so intensely anxious to hear what had passed that they went out to meet him.

  He greeted them with a smile, and said, 'The lives of all of us are safe. I have made a pact with Prince Mustapha. I re­fused his demand that our Lord Selim should publicly abdi­cate; but agreed that we should become his prisoners in the Seraglio. We are to be treated with respect, and enjoy the same comforts and semi-liberty as he and his mother have been allowed during the past few years. Tomorrow morning we are to return to the Seraglio in one of the Imperial barges, with a fining escort and the homage due to Princes of the House of Osmanli.'

  Roger frowned. ‘In the circumstances, the terms are gener­ous, Prince, and I'd congratulate you were I certain that Mustapha would honour them. But dare you trust him? Once he has you all in his power, isn't it highly probable that he will murder you?'

  Mahmoud shook his head. 'Nay. He swore it upon the Koran before witnesses. Did he break his word, the Mullahs would denounce him from every pulpit in Islam, and his body would be thrown to the dogs by his own household troops for having disgraced the supreme office of Caliph.'

  The Pasha and Son Altesse Noire were also evidently of that opinion, for they were laughing and clapping one an­other on the back.

  Selim's virtual dethronement could not be taken as cause for a celebration. Nevertheless, an atmosphere of subdued gaiety permeated the castle for the remainder of the day. The fear of imminent death bad been lifted, not only from the Imperial party, but from the whole garrison.

  Late in the evening, Aimee sent for Roger. To his surprise he found her alone. She greeted him with a smile. 'So it is all over. I am sure my prayers to the Holy Virgin must have helped; but it is to you we owe our lives.'

  He shook his head. 'No, Madame. It is to the courage and statesmanlike handling of the situation this morning by your son.'

  She smiled again. 'I am very proud of him. He will make a great Sultan.'

  Roger hesitated. 'Is there ... is there really much chance now of his ever ascending the throne?'

  'Most certainly he will. Did you never hear the prophecy that was made to me when I was a young girl in Martinique? It was that I would become a Queen and that my son would rule gloriously over a mighty Empire.'

  'I earnestly pray, Madame, that the second half of that prophecy may also come true. But, with regard to yourself, I am deeply distressed. The thought of your becoming a pri­soner has harrowed me all day.'

  'Please let it do so no longer,' she said gently. 'It means only my removal from one prison to another. The so-called "cage" in the Seraglio is a beautiful pavilion with numerous rooms and its own garden. All that we have been through was caused only by the jealousy of Prince Mustapha's mother. She envied me my position. Now that she has it, she will be content. And Mustapha is by no means ill-disposed towards me personally. I am sure he will allow me to keep all the things I treasure. I'll have my books, my needlework and my flowers.'

  'Oh, chere Madame! You cannot imagine how relieved I am to hear this.'

  'I am most touched that you should have been so concerned for me. My one regret is that our friendship cannot continue. Tomorrow morning we shall see the last of each other.' Aimee paused for a moment, then went on. 'Alas, there is little I can do to reward you for your devotion. But there is one small matter that I could arrange to give you pleasure.'

  Roger threw out his hands. 'Madame, I protest. I need no reward. It has been a joy to be of service to you.'

  'I am glad; but shall persist with my idea. From what Zanthe told me, you are not only a brave but very virile and amorous man. And one, too, who would not demean him­self to lie with any but a beautiful and well-born girl—such, for example, as my little Fatima.'

  Roger stared at her nonplussed, as she continued. 'It must have become obvious to you that she regards you as a demi­god. And she is no virgin, as for a year she was a concubine to one of the young Princes who died not long ago. You have but to say the word and, given my permission, she will come running to sleep with you tonight.'

  'Madame, I... I...' Roger stammered.

  Aimee threw back her head, and laughed. 'Cher Chevalier. Why be so bashful? Men of your kind do not frequent bro­thels, so must be starved of women when in the East. And Fatima passed her tests in the Seraglio "School of Love", so I guarantee you there is nothing she will not do to please you. But there is one condition. All must take place in complete darkness, in order to conform with Turkish observances.'

  With a puzzled frown, Roger asked, 'Pray tell me, Madame, what is the reason for such a strange custom?'

  'You would natura
lly wish to kiss your bed-fellow,' Aimee' replied. 'Therefore, she must dispense with her veil. Of course, when a couple are married, no such problem arises. But Turkish females are very different from Europeans. As I have learned from many Turkish ladies of my acquaintance when, as sometimes happens, they are left for a while alone with an attractive friend of their husband's; they will permit many liberties, but should the man lift their veil, they would take it as a deadly insult. That is why, should you wish me to send Fatima to you, I require your word of honour that you will have the shutters of the windows of your room closed, the curtains drawn, and in no circumstances endeavour to look upon her unveiled face.'

  Roger was in a quandary. Face to face with Aimee as he was, Fatima meant nothing to him. Yet she was a pretty girl, with a lovely figure, and it was a considerable time since he had slept with a woman. It then occurred to him that, in any case, it would be churlish to refuse this obviously kindly-intended offer; so he bowed and said:

  'Madame, I am deeply grateful to you for your thought for me as a man who for a considerable time past has not enjoyed nature's blessings. If Fatima is willing, I shall be delighted to receive her—and I feel confident I can promise to give her an enjoyable night.'

  Aimee smiled. 'I am sure you will, man cher Chevalier. I will not bid you good-bye now, but in the morning before I am taken away to my new prison.'

  Having kissed her hand, Roger withdrew; still wondering at the breadth of this extraordinary woman's mind—that in the midst of her own troubles she should have thought about providing pleasure for a friend who had stood by her when she was in danger. Then he recalled the dream in which his beloved Georgina had appeared to him. This must be the invitation that she had urged him to accept. And he had nearly refused it, because the radiance of Aimee had made him so indifferent to Fatima's attractions. With a smile he thought, 'I've never yet questioned Georgina's advice. And, after all, Fatima is a graduate of that famous "School of Love". Maybe she can teach me something, though I doubt it. Anyhow, a night with a girl will make me feel a real man again.'