“You are finished, sir?” the dey’s secretary politely inquired.
“I am,” came the now very weak reply. “Let me put my signature to this document before I will not be able to do it.”
They held him up, placing a quill in his hand, and Adrian Leigh grasped it with his last bit of strength, and signed his name in a legible hand. Finished, he dropped the pen, and slumped back into his brother’s arms. There he lay, until several hours later he finally breathed his last. His body was wrapped in a white shroud, and quickly buried lest the heat decay it. It was placed in the small Christian cemetery outside the walls of the city. The kindly old Protestant minister who was to have married the dey and India came to pray over Adrian Leigh’s body. Seeing the dey’s open grief, he asked no questions.
The dey of El Sinut now shut himself off from his household, mourning his loss alone. In his hands he held the parchment that would clear him of the charges of murder in England, yet he didn’t care. He fell into a deep depression from which he could not seem to rouse himself. He had lost the woman he loved, and the brother he had loved, too. Nothing mattered any longer. Then fate stepped in, forcing his hand, compelling him to make a decision.
Two troupes of janissaries crossed his borders. One from Algiers, and the other from Tunis. They marched toward the city, and their intent was plainly hostile. Baba Hassan’s spies brought him the information he needed to save Caynan Reis, but only with scant time to spare. The chief eunuch hurried to inform his master.
“It is you they seek, my lord. The order has been given to assassinate you because you have betrayed them to the sultan. In Istanbul the rebellion has been squelched, although there has been fighting in both Algiers and Tunis, for they have not yet received the word that the rebellion is over. So, my lord, you have been targeted for death.”
“Who gave the order?” the dey asked.
“The chief of the janissaries, my lord. The sultan will look the other way. Your death is a small price to pay. He has managed to keep his throne. If the janissaries want revenge on the man who saved that throne, he cares not, nor does his mother,” Baba Hassan said. “You must leave El Sinut, my lord, before they may kill you.”
“No. I will fight them,” Caynan Reis said.
“With what?” Baba Hassan demanded. “You have no army. You have a troupe of janissaries to protect El Sinut. They will not go against their brothers. They will turn their backs on you, my lord, while the others slaughter you. You have the means to return to your own land. Allah has given you this good fortune just when you needed it. Go back to England, my lord. Find India and your child, and
live!
If you will not do it for yourself, then do it for Azura and me. We have loved you as if you were our own son. And what of your blood kin? If you do not return to England, he has no heir to his family name and lands, my lord. Will you throw your life away when you have been given the chance to regain what you once believed lost?”
“What of you and Azura? What of the ladies of the harem?” the dey asked him. “I cannot leave you to suffer for me.”
“I have managed this palace for more years than I care to admit,” said the eunuch. “And the lady Azura, too. We will be safe, as will the ladies of the harem. I suspect that Aruj Agha will hold sway here in El Sinut in your place, my lord Caynan Reis, for many years to come.”
He had made up his mind in an instant. “I will go,” he said. Why shouldn’t he? Baba Hassan was right. His father needed him, and he had several scores to settle in England. The first with his deceitful stepmother, and the second with Lady India Anne Lindley. He followed the chief eunuch to the lady Azura’s apartment.
She knew the moment they entered that the decision had been made. Going to a cabinet, Azura drew out a beautiful white wool cloak lined in green silk. “This is for you, my lord dey. The green lining is a false one. Behind the silk, and between another layer of silk, is a small fortune in gold coins, each sewn into a separate pocket. The hems of your cloak are filled with precious stones. Not just the bottom hem, but beneath the gold braid edging as well. It is little enough for your service to El Sinut, my lord. We wish it might be more.” She set the floor-length cape about his broad shoulders, coming around to fasten the gold frog closures that he saw were diamond studded.
The dey took her into his arms, and kissed her forehead. “I will never forget you, my lady Azura,” he said. “If I sent for you one day, would you not come, and run my home as you have done this palace? You, and Baba Hassan together?”
She smiled up at him. “My lord, I have lived too long in Barbary to ever be content anywhere else, but I thank you for the offer.”
“I, also,” Baba Hassan replied. There was a small awkward silence, and then the eunuch said, “Come, my lord. I must get you out of the palace before it is too late. You can already hear the fighting in the streets, for the janissaries have been looting, and causing general havoc along their way. We have a small felluca for you in the harbor. I have chosen several young European captives to escape with you. Naples is your best bet, and the easiest port to make from here.”
The dey kissed Azura’s hands, and then, turning, he followed Baba Hassan from her apartment. The eunuch led him through the small dark corridors he had never known existed. They saw no one as they passed. Finally they exited the palace, crossing a small courtyard, and going out through a little door in the walls. They hurried down several narrow, twisting streets until finally the dey could see the waters of the harbor sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight and smell the salty tang of the sea. He quickened his step.
As they moved onto a slightly larger thoroughfare, they were startled by a young janissary who stepped into their path. Before Caynan Reis might draw his sword, the janissary slashed at him, his blade slicing down the dey’s handsome face from the corner of his left eye to the left corner of his mouth. The injured man’s hand went automatically to his face even as Aruj Agha came behind the younger janissary and ran him through. The assassin crumpled heavily to the ground, quite dead.
“A young Turk who would make a name for himself, but one cannot gain honor in the corps through a dishonorable act, my lord dey.” He handed his friend a handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood.
“Take care of Baba Hassan, Azura and the harem ladies,” Caynan Reis said to his friend.
“I will,” came the reply, and then Aruj Agha turned away, disappearing into an alley. “Allah go with you,” he said as he went.
“Let me see,” Baba Hassan said worriedly, and examined the wound. “You will have a scar, my lord, but it is not life threatening,” he pronounced. “Come. There is the felluca. You must clear the harbor before sunset else the chain be raised against you.”
Three young men were waiting for them. They were Italian, and Baba Hassan gave each of them a small bag containing a gold coin and five silver coins. “Get this man safely to Naples, and each of you will be given another gold coin by my agent, who will meet your vessel to make certain your passenger is safe. You have been given your freedom for this purpose. Fail me, and I will know. You shall be punished wherever you attempt to hide.”
The three men nodded.
“Thank you, Baba Hassan,” the dey said quietly and with deeper meaning. He stepped down into the felluca.
The chief eunuch nodded. “Allah go with you, my lord Leigh,” he said quietly, and, turning away, disappeared into the maze of streets.
They had departed immediately, clearing the harbor. He had had no difficulty from his companions, and three days later they had reached Naples. At the docks a well-dressed man had been waiting their arrival, and paid off the three sailors.
“The felluca is yours,” he told them, and then turned to Deverall Leigh. “My lord Leigh, I am Cesare Kira. You are to come with me, please. We will go to my father’s banking house in the ghetto where you will want to make your deposit, and then we will arrange for your transportation back to England.”
Deverall Leigh had followed the young man, and been taken to Benjamino Kira. The elder Kira had taken the cloak from his guest and handed it to his daughter, who had removed the false lining with its gold-filled pockets, handing the coins to her father who piled them up upon his counting table. When she had finished, Benjamino Kira counted the coins, and weighed the gold. Then he nodded to his daughter, who slit the hems of the long garment individually and spilled out its jeweled contents onto her father’s table. When she had finally finished, she sat down and began to repair the cloak so he might wear it again.
“I do not need a double lining in the cape, mistress,” he said to the girl. “If it would please you, please keep the silk.”
Her face lit in a sweet smile. “Thank you, my lord, I will.” She then bent her head to sew the hem.
“You are generous,” Benjamino Kira said. “It is a fine piece of Bursa silk you have given my daughter. It will make her a wedding gown, eh, Soshanna?” He smiled at the girl’s blush, and turned back to Lord Leigh. “Baba Hassan has sent you with quite a fortune, my lord,” he noted. “What do you intend to do with it, and how may we help you?”
“I am the heir to the earl of Oxton,” he had explained. “How much of my story do you know, Signore Kira?”
“I know you have been the dey of El Sinut for nine years, my lord, and left because of the rebellion by the janissaries that caused your life to be in danger.”
“It was my warning of that rebellion that saved the young sultan. In thanks, he threw me to his enemies. I had no choice but to leave. Now I will go home to England to clear my name of a crime I did not commit. I carry the proof of my innocence with me.” He withdrew the rolled parchment from his shirt. “I hope to gain a royal pardon with this. Then I will marry, and lead the life I was meant to lead.”
The banker nodded. “Fate has an odd way of manipulating us about,” he said dryly. “Now, however, we must plan for your trip. With your permission, my lord, I shall make the arrangements, and see that your gold and jewels are transported safely to London.”
Deverall Leigh had traveled to Paris in the company of a train of merchants. There he had been taken in hand by the banker, Henri Kira, and sent on to Calais. He crossed to Dover, and was met by Master Jonathan Kira, who escorted him up to London to his father, James Kira.
“Your trip was a pleasant one, I hope, my lord,” the English banker said. “I have taken the liberty of inquiring as to your father’s health. The earl is frail, but in no immediate danger. I have also taken the liberty of putting a watch upon the countess so that we can be certain she remains in Glocestershire while you complete your business here.” He indicated a small chest upon the table, and, opening it, said, “Your gemstones, my lord. Will you ascertain that they are all here?”
Deverall Leigh, somewhat amazed by the efficiency of the Kiras, took out the inventory slip that he had prepared in Naples and checked it over. “Everything is here,” he said finally. “The gold is on deposit, I take it, Master Kira.”
“It is, my lord,” said the banker with a smile. “Now, then, you will need a private audience with King Charles, will you not?”
“I will,” he had replied.
“It will be arranged. The duke of Buckingham’s family does business with this house.” He looked into the still-opened jewel chest and plucked a large, round diamond forth. “Set in gold, a nice gift for the king, don’t you think?” he said. “And a crucifix of gold, rubies, and pearls for the queen, I believe will be quite suitable.”
“I shall leave it all in your obviously capable hands,” Deverall Leigh replied. “Where am I to stay, Master Kira, and how long must I remain in London? As you can imagine, I am anxious to see my father.”
“It will take a few days, my lord, to arrange an audience with the king for you. It would be better if you remained here as my guest. I do not want you out wandering the streets where you might be seen until you have been pardoned by the king and are free to do so without danger of arrest.”
He had been grateful to the Kiras, and gladly accepted their hospitality. He was well treated. Several days later, he was presented with a new suit of black velvet, the doublet of which had an exquisite fallen lace collar. Each leg of his knee breeches had a wide silver ribbon garter with a black-and-silver bow. His doublet was trimmed with silver buttons, and the fine cambric of his shirt shone through the slashes on the puffed sleeves. White silk stockings were worn below where his breeches ended, and his black leather shoes sported silver rosettes. He had silver lace trimming his white leather gloves. His hair was short, and contrary to the fashion, he wore no beard or mustache. One side of his face was perfect in profile, but the scar running from his eye to his mouth on the left side of his visage gave him a menacing yet tragic appearance.
He rode to Whitehall Palace in a coach provided him by his hosts. He was met by a gentleman of the court in debt to the Kiras, a member of the duke of Buckingham’s family, who took him to a private apartment. He was told to wait. Shortly afterward the king arrived. He listened to Deverall Leigh’s tale, and accepted the confession that Adrian Leigh had dictated before his death. Charles Stuart read the parchment, and then he arose, requesting that his guest remain until he returned. There was wine, and there were biscuits to be had.