The Lake of Sorrows (19 page)

The moment she was out the door, he almost pounced on Yulebahar and locked gazes with her.

“You women are such fools! Could you not contain yourself for a few moments? You should have asked me that under four eyes.”

She cowered under his withering gaze. “What do you mean, doctor? That was just a slave. Noone else is around to hear.”

“Noone else is around to hear!” Karayannis imitated her pleading voice in a cruel mockery, nodding towards the door that had just closed behind the slave girl. “She has no ears just because she is a slave?”

Yulebahar burst into tears and the doctor suddenly shuddered at his own behavior. He sighed, then spoke to her again, now with a pity in his voice that nevertheless frightened her even more. “Yes Yulebahar. You are with a child. You have succeeded in doing what all harem women wish for, and you will be second only to Eminee in the Pasha’s favor very soon.” He sighed again. “You will also be second only to Eminee as the rival to remove for others who want precisely what you want. I would imagine the lady Eminee has already told you that, though. And apparently it did not give you pause.”

Yulebahar sobbed and furtively looked left and right.

“But it is up to you. How careful can you be? You will have to become very cunning very fast for this baby and yourself to survive.”

Her eyes got brighter, but only for a moment. Then she shrank back into her pillows, gaze still darting to and fro.

“It is too late for second thoughts, Yulebahar. I apologize for my rudeness, but you women seem to always act first and think afterwards.”

She frowned, not at his words, but at the sheer hatred in his eyes as he spoke them.

He looked out the room’s one small window, towards the mountains swathed in heavy grey clouds. “Forgive a tired man’s foul mood, Yulebahar. I have been laboring all night to save another poor soul, but I fear it has been in vain.”

“T
his is hopeless, my lady. There is no way we can make it to Parga on foot.”

Constantine stretched, groaned and tried to decide if his pride hurt more than his back. “If the cart wheel had not cracked last night in that God-cursed mud hole, we would be halfway there already!”

He leaned heavily on the branch he had been using as a walking-stick for several hours now, scowling back at the road that wound its way uneasily over the drenched hills and valleys of the Epirus countryside.

The Vassiliou woman seemed as infuriatingly tireless as the children riding on the now cartless horse, wet and muddy though they all were. Oddly enough, the woman seemed to grow stronger than ever now that their escape seemed more hopeless than ever.

Constantine raised his stick, pointing to Yannina that had appeared between two low-drifting islands of rock-colored clouds. “Instead, just look. We can still see Yannina down there. It will not be hard for the Pasha’s horsemen to catch up with us within a day at our current pace.”

Froshenie stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry, Constantine.” There was a smile on her lips and it might have been meant as a comforting one, but it looked almost grateful, like that of supplicant whose prayers have not gone unanswered. “You have children of your own to think of, too. If the Pasha’s soldiers catches us trying to escape Yannina like this, we are all doomed.”

She gazed back down the road and Constantine could not help thinking she seemed to be fervently wishing to see just those soldiers gallop up. “The wise thing to do is to go back.”

She glanced at her Vaya who was sitting on a rock, resting her legs, head lowered, staring pointedly at her muddy feet.

The lady’s dark eyes conspired with Constantine’s aching back, both begging him to give in. “My lady. I feel I have failed you.”

“That is not true, Constantine.” Now he was sure that the smile was triumphant. “Noone can go against fate.”

The Vaya snorted and shot an meaningful look at her mistress, yet she was about to give in, too. “You will not listen to honor or propriety, or even to common sense, girl.” She rose reluctantly. “Very well, let us go back. I tried my best to get us away to safety, but when God refuses to smile, all is in vain. It must have been meant to be.”

Constantine looked inquiringly from lady to Vaya, but neither answered his silent questions. He grabbed the horse’s bridle again and turned it back towards Yannina. “If you ladies have the strength to walk on, the horse can carry the children, even if they fall asleep. We will go back on foot. There are back roads known only to shepherds - and to me, since they have whispered to me about them when they visited my tavern. It will not be easy, I am afraid and will take us until nightfall to get back to Yannina. But at least we will be sure not to meet the Pasha’s men on the way.”

Froshenie beamed at him - she seemed to have all but stopped listening after the ‘we will go back’. “Lead the way, good Constantine. We are not as fragile as we look.”

T
he war council room of the Yannina palace had been irresistible to Muhtar the boy and had slowly become revolting to him when he had become Muhtar the man.

To the boy, the walls of rough-hewn stone, thickly adorned with armor and arms, the giant table in its midst, strewn with maps and the stalwart colonels circling it, his mighty father in their midst — all this had been a fairytale of a greatness.

To Muhtar the man, the room usually looked like a children’s room full of ugly toys, the self-important men jabbering around it like boys playing a sordid game, and he had done his duty as his father’s preferred general only with reluctance - although a reluctance he had hidden well.

But today was different. He had welcomed his father’s summons to the council, had stood aloof yet attentive among the grim military men, and his father’s orders had been music to his ears. The risk - or hope - of dangers to come cooled his fevered mind and made the face haunting his inner eye recede, at least slightly. As the council drew to a close, the cairn he felt on his chest had become a distant, if undeniable ache.

Alhi turned to Vajas, who was looking very un-warriorlike and out of place in the war council room. “Sum it up, your skill with numbers matches our commanders’ skills in battle.”

Vajas seemed to grow an inch taller before their eyes. “Your father-in-law, my Pasha, has gathered over three thousand soldiers for our army of the South.” The young man paused to let his gaze wander across the commanders, savoring his brief moment in the limelight. “In addition, he has sent reinforcements almost as strong to join our main army in the march North on Argyrokastro, and they will arrive this evening in Yannina. The first shipment of French cannon will be here before the army leaves, along with a small contingent of French artillerymen to teach ours their use. But the people of Souli have heard about all this, I am afraid.”

“The Souliotes are suspicious both by nature and by nurture, but I know how to put them at ease.” Alhi had taken down an exquisite sword from the wall and was making mock attacks against a full suit of armor propped against a corner of the room. “Muhtar will deliver personally a letter to Souli’s clan captains.”

He feinted against the armor-suit, stepped back and crouched. “But you will have to write it word by word exactly as I will dictate it to you, Vajas. It must be simple, man-to-man. Not with your flowery eloquence that speaks volumes of nothing. Those Souliotes are simple men, like I once was.”

Doing his best not to look offended, Vajas risked disagreement. “Forgive me, but that is against the usages of diplomacy, my Pasha.”

“And the Souliotes know that ‘diplomat’ is just a sweeter name for ‘liar’.” Alhi chortled at his own wit and his commanders dutifully chimed in. “Just have some faith in me.” Alhi feinted against the armor. “Ink your pen, Vajas and put this on a piece of our finest paper.”

“Captain Botsaris, captain Zavellas. My friends and fellow warriors. Alhi Pasha greets and kisses you on both cheeks in respect and awe of your renown and courage. I am in great need of your services. I march today against my enemies in the North, at Argyrokastro and I need men like you at my side. So once you receive this letter, gather your best and bravest men and come join my own troops. I am expecting you to show in action your respect and friendship towards me, and I promise to pay you double what I pay my own captains, as I expect your achievements will be twice that of my own men, as I remain your devoted and admiring blather, blather, blather. Did you get all of that, Vajas?”

Vajas’ pen had been flying over the paper, a smile spreading on his face. “I did indeed, my Pasha. A brilliant ruse. The Souliotes never could resist the promise of war and spoils - or pay from a ruler known to be as generous to loyal servants as Alhi Pasha. And even if they could, ignoring your request for help would be an insufferable insult and they know it. All their able-bodied men will rush to join your main army, my Pasha. And then our army of the South can raid Souli.”

“No.” Alhi feinted one last time at the armor then sprang forward, slashing with all his might - the suit of steel exploded in all directions, crashing against floor and walls. He stood back, panting for moment. “I am not planning just a punitive raid on Souli. I am planning to conquer the arrogant Greek scum. For good. The new French cannon will go to our army of the South, see to that, Vajas.”

“But, my Pasha — will the Souliotes not be curious as to why your new guns will not be brought on the campaign against Argyrokastro?”

“Not if you spread the word that our gunners need a lot of training from the French artillerymen before I will risk my new
belles filles
on a campaign. The Souliotes love to feel contempt for our men.”

“Forgive me, my Pasha — but I fear that is true. About our men being unable to handle the cannon, I mean.”

“Poor Vajas, you know so little about war. Did you think the French soldiers would not jump at the chance of an easy campaign and plenty of loot? They will
be
our gunners of the Southern army.”

“Might not their master disapprove?”

“They kept asking that question until I asked them why their master needed to know about it.”

A rumble of laughter erupted from the colonels, who understood soldiering so very well.

Their Pasha beamed back at them. “The Southern army will first take Himara. That town has always been disrespectful to me, slow with their tributes and secretly thumbing their noses at me behind their ancient walls. And without Himara, Souli will have no hope of help or reinforcements - and know that those light-looking French guns can bring down walls just as easily as can those lumbering Ottoman siege-guns our Sultan always denied me.
Then,
our Southern army will will attack Souli if need be, while it is defended by only women, children and stooping elders.”

“If need be, my Pasha?” Muhtar finally spoke up, driven by the curiosity now on all faces around Alhi. “Surely you do not expect Souli, of all places, to surrender without a fight?”

Alhi tossed the sword aside for a servant to pick up. “Perhaps I do, my son, perhaps I do.” He laughed at their gaping faces. “Leave strategy to me. As for the vaunted men of Souli, we will receive them with respect when they join my main army marching North. Then, on the first night, we shall cut their arrogant throats.”

Vajas rolled up the letter and handed it to Muhtar, whose aloofness had become stiffness. But the exuberant Vajas did not notice this. “And while the vultures feast on the Souliote warriors, my Pasha can turn South and reinforce the conquest of Souli, if needed.”

Alhi was rolling up the maps on the table, as if closing a book. “If needed, Vajas, if needed. But I never knew any soldier of mine that needed help to ransack an undefended city.”

T
hat night, it was not a lovers’ night, though Shouhrae and Alexis met again beneath the hulking rear walls of the Yannina palace. This time, the night was damp and cold after the storm, moonlessly dark, with a forlorn wind howling in the battlements. Alexis took her in his arms with even more longing than first time, but she drew away.

“I will not be with you for very long, my love.” Her words, for a moment, brought hurt and resentment to his eyes - then he saw the tears she could not hold back.

“What is wrong, Shouhrae, my heart. The night is an unfriendly one, but that also means noone will see us. You need not fear.”

“I meant I am I not long for this world, Alexis. I feel it.”

“Please! Do not talk like that. We will grow very old together, you will see.” He held her tighter, but she could not stop the tears.

“We will not. Because of this. But I have no regrets. Just promise me you will remember me after I am gone. That is all I ask of you.”

“As if I could ever forget you! But please, my love, try to put such dark thoughts aside. Soon we will be together. And far away from this place, too. I promise.”

He kissed her desperately, but she did not respond, merely let him do it. To please him, and he knew it. Her eyes were distant and he felt selfish and evil for wanting her so terribly, and he let go of her, stroking her hair clumsily. “Go back, Shouhrae, before you are missed. I swear that the next time you cry, it will be tears of joy.”

He watched her scurry away, then looked towards the heavens. “If you will not smile on us, then we will make our own smiles. We will not be denied!”

C
aptain Tahir charged into Alhi’s bedroom, then stopped, as the sudden change from the torch-lit corridor to the darkness of the room made him blind.

He was well aware of the Pasha’ fondness of staying up in all night, lost in his thoughts, but he had forgotten that the Pasha had grown accustomed to moving about even in the faintest of moonlight, like a cat.

Out of the darkness came Alhi’s growling voice. “When did I allow even you to barge into my private quarters like this, captain?”

Tahir strained his eyes against the dark, but the flickering light from outside only kept his sight unable to penetrate the blackness inside. “Forgive me, my Pasha, but I bring urgent news. And bad ones. I had to summon the doctor urgently. Without asking you first.”