The Lake of Sorrows (32 page)

“
Kindness?
You are speaking of the Beast of Hyperus!”

“The goatherd chieftain of the Tepeleni, yes. The son of Hamko, the Beast mother. Who had to be a beast. Alhi grew up in a place where all that was soft was an invitation to one’s enemies to put a dagger in that soft spot. His mother, in her own kind of love, made him fiercer than any other man, because that was the only way a mother could see her son safe. And while he may now rule in Yannina and move among Sultans and Kings, the greedy and murderous goatherds of Tepeleni are only different from Kings and Sultans in that they are poorer and dirtier. He loves his son, but in the way his mother loved him - he wants his son to be as impregnable a heart as he believes himself to be.”

“A belief I believe is right”

“Almost. But a perfectly impregnable heart is also a perpetually empty one. It needs to open up to at least
one
other soul.”

“You?”

“Yes. I have had all the kindness in Alhi and believe me, it is as abundant as his fierceness. I have no regrets. But I have fears. His mother gave him an insatiable ambition, too and that ambition is eating him up, making him a petty, small man who will fall one day. I do not want my Alhi to fall, ever. So I must save him from himself. Save the Alhi I love from the Alhi he is becoming.”

“You may be too late!”

Pain flared in the depths of Eminee’s eyes. “Yes. He will no longer listen. One must act on his behalf.
Show
him the way. That is why I helped Fotos, the son of Zavellas, to flee Yannina.”

“
You
did that?”

“I did. But Alhi is right, someone must be punished. There must be at least one death.” Eminee picked up the letter from the small table and held it out to Pashou. “This is my confession. See that Alhi has it.”

Pashou took the letter even less willingly, it seemed, than she would have taken one of her sweets. “You are fleeing Yannina, too? And sending me with your last words to Alhi? Why, that is pathetic! He would never really punish you.”

“Alhi needs no last words from me, he knows my heart. And I know he could never really punish me. He needs help. But have I not always been there to help him?”

“I do not understand.”

“As Tahir said recently, I have never balked at a death that was necessary to my husband.” Eminee reached out, opened the silver box and picked a sweet, a large one, smelling of rose and vanilla.

“Eminee!” But before Pashou could stop her, Eminee had put the sweet in her mouth and swallowed it whole.

“F
roshenie … “

Karayannis jerked awake again, as a feeble, shaking hand touched his. Muhtar’s. The doctor glanced out the window. The guard captain had summoned Pashou to Eminee’s quarters at sunset and there was still a faint echo of the sunset on the horizon. He had slept again, but only a few minutes. His body ached with exhaustion - and with the craving for the opiates in his bag. The temptation had been held at bay by Pashou’s presence, but now …

“Froshenie. Is she here?”

The doctor froze. Muhtar’s eyes were open, shiny with fever, but open and alert. His hand, still on the doctor’s, closed in a talon-like grip. “Is she here? Is she safe? I sent her my ring, doctor!”

A shudder ran through Karayannis. “I know. Froshenie is not here. Please try to rest.”

He tried to extricate his hand, but all of Muhtar’s strength seemed concentrated in his fingers.

“Please, my Bey. You should rest. You have been wounded. You are at home, in Yannina. Please rest.”

“I have to know she is safe, doctor. I know everyone hates her. My kind, her own, everyone.”

“Not … everyone.”

Muhtar’s feverish eyes bore into the doctor’s. Karayannis wanted to look away, but his head felt locked in place by that penetrating gaze.

Presently, Muhtar released his hand. “I feel your pain, doctor. I see you know what … impossible love is.”

An acid sneer wrested itself free from Karayannis’ throat. “Impossible? Yes. For me. But not for
you.
”

Muhtar’s gaze remained gentle, the clarity in his eyes already fading. “Fate is deaf, doctor. Do you not think
I
have cursed our love? It hurts her, it may kill her.”

A final wave of strength drove Muhtar’s eyes wide open again. “The ring was all I could do, doctor. But it is only a promise of revenge to anyone who will want to hurt her. I cannot stop them, only hurt them back afterwards. Keep her safe. Promise me you will keep her safe.”

“For
you?
” But Karayannis growl was heard only by himself, for Muhtar had drifted off again.

Reflexively, Karayannis checked the patient’s pulse. His rage subsided and his voice softened. “Perhaps not for you, after all. Your heart is getting tired, young Bey.”

He rose, stretched painfully and walked to the chamber’s balcony, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. When the door behind him opened, he was too exhausted to turn. “Your husband is resting, my lady. You should do the same. He is in the hands of time and of your Allah.”

“He is not my husband, Karayannis. But I hope you are still my friend.”

Turning like a startled cat at the sound of the tender voice, the doctor found himself face to face with Froshenie and captain Tahir.

Karayannis tried to speak, found that he could not and fixed a hateful gaze on the captain.

“Do not look at me that way, doctor. I was sent for her, but she wanted to come every bit as much as I wanted to bring her.”

Unable to move or speak, Karayannis could only stand there and watch as Froshenie sat down on the edge of Muhtar’s bed and gently took his hand in hers, pressing it to her face.

“Froshenie … ” Muhtar stirred, let out a deep sigh. Slowly, his eyes opened. Froshenie smiled that smile that was more than hashish and opium and wine to him and quietly sank down to rest her head on his chest. His arms came up around her and they both closed their eyes.

Karayannis, ashen-faced, reached out like a sleepwalker and pulled a scalpel from his doctor’s bag. He took a step towards the bed.

Tahir’s bony hand snapped shut around the doctor’s wrist. Silently, Karayannis twisted, heaved, but the old captain’s grip was like living oak. Their gazes met again and the captain shook his head, eyes full of pity.

The pity broke the doctor. Karayannis sagged and the captain eased the scalpel from his hand. He glanced at Muhtar and Froshenie, then gently drew the Greek towards the door.

The sound of the door closing behind them made Froshenie stir, although not move. “You are hurt, my Bey.”

“Please. Never call me Bey again. I might be that to the world once more. But never to you.”

“Your wound … “

“I live. I will live.” A surge of strength brought a playful tone into his still-weak voice, his arms tightened around her. “You are safe. All the doctors of Genoa could not have made a medicine as strong as that, you know.”

She sat upright, still holding his hand in hers, nestling it against her face. “Your mother was the doctor that made that medicine. She sent the captain for me. With an escort to keep me safe.” She smiled again, more humbly this time. “Poor Chryssie almost chased them away, captain and escort alike. Ten burly soldiers and they cowered under the wrath of one furious Vaya.”

He chuckled, groaned at the pain it caused his chest, but smiled still. “Your God bless her for her courage and for being beside you. I hope she did not hurt them.”

“She waits outside. She refused to come in with me. To her, we are … an outrage.”

His face darkened. “To her and everyone else.” He squeezed her hands. “But we will defy them all. I swear it.”

She looked away. “We cannot. Your father — “

He reached up to touch her chin and gently turn her head so that she was looking at him again. “Listen to me. My father has lost an army. He can call up levies and fill the ranks of a new one quickly enough, but he will need leaders to make it his. Leaders he can trust. And Tepeleni knows they can only truly trust their own family.”

Froshenie spoke very quietly. “More war, then? Always more war.”

“Not for me. I will build his army, not lead it.
While
I build it, he can recall my brother from Constantinople. He always envied me my place at the head of the Pasha’s armies. He can have it, with my blessing. You and I may have to go to Constantinople in his place. But we will go together.”

“Constantinople?”

“As the Sultan’s honored guests. That is a kinder word for hostages for my father’s loyalty. But the Sultan is a fine host, or so my brother writes.”

She was shaking her head sadly. “We are both married. And rumor has it that your marriage is necessary to keep your father’s allies by his side.”

He thrust out his chin. “Ours would not be the first marriages to be dissolved. I will make sure Pashou is well taken care of and I will be the first to offer felicitations when she finds herself another husband. And my father needs allies because he hopes to break away from the Sultan. With the two of us in Constantinople, I will not let him do such a thing.”

“You will not — how could you stop him?”

“We, too, have an ally. A powerful one.”

A determined smile made him look almost hale and hearty again. “The one person who could always, in the end, make my father see sense. The one whose wisdom brought you here. My mother.”

“I have met your mother, did you know that?” A faint echo of impish defiance had sneaked into Eminee’s voice — and at last, hope came into her dark eyes like winter’s ice melting on a spring morning, and he laughed and wanted to jump out of the bed and run all around the palace and shout his defiance at everyone.

He drew her once more into his arms, tightly as a lover and not a man in his sickbed, and spent his remaining strength on a long, savoring kiss. “I would keep you here forever, but please, my love, go find Tahir. He will take you to my mother. Ask them both to come here. I just need to catch my breath a bit, then we will talk with them about the future.
Our
future!”

He sank back onto his pillows, exhausted, but beaming at her. “If you meet my father, just tell him my mother had you brought here. She is the one person that always kept
him
from truly becoming a beast.”

T
he Beast was crying silently.

Alhi Pasha, ruler of Hyperus and Thessaly for the Sublime Porte, was kneeling at the feet of his wife’s still form, she still seated on her humble divan, though slumped back against the pillows. At the sight of her, Alhi had crumpled to his knees, soaking her last letter with his tears. Tahir and doctor Karayannis, sent by a quaking, fleeing Pashou, had found their master there on the floor. Neither dared to move or speak, they could only stand there and watch Alhi’s shoulders heave, his body sinking ever lower.

“
Out!
” The single word tore itself from Alhi in a roar that seemed to carry to the far ends of the palace. He did not move, but his captain and the doctor fled, slamming the door shut behind them.

The corridor outside was already bustling with crying harem women, with fidgeting guards, with trembling servants. Everyone’s eyes focused on Tahir, pleading, demanding.

He leaned heavily against the door, drawing a deep breath. “The lady Eminee, our Pasha’s treasured wife is … is no more. He wishes to be alone with his grief.” His voice hardened. “You will all go back to your duties, except for the guards, who will stay here. And you will
all
be silent about this, even to each other, or I swear I will have your tongues!”

He motioned brusquely for his guardsmen to step closer, rapping out orders. “You there. Take ten men and stand guard outside the Bey’s chambers. Tell him, and the woman with him, that they cannot leave his chambers until I say so, that they are in danger. Tell them nothing about
what
danger and nothing about … this, or morning will find you riding a stake! And you! Call out the entire guard, double the sentries on the battlements and at the gates. Tell the officers of the levies that the Pasha orders them to leave the palace and set up camp outside Yannina, astride the road to Souli. Tell them I will come to see them shortly. Tell them — tell them whatever you need to tell them to get them out of the palace
without
letting them know that our Pasha is … is not himself. If they lose faith in him, our new army will have faded away before sunrise, if they do not fall for the temptation to sack and burn the palace first. Either way, Yannina will be open to any enemy with a ready army and a grudge against our Pasha, do you understand? And no enemy of the Pasha would allow his guard to surrender, only to die!”

The two guardsmen nodded grimly and ran off. Under Tahir’s stern gaze, the crowd dispersed, though still trembling and crying.

The captain turned to the remaining guardsmen around him. “You men will guard this room with your lives.
Outside
it. Noone will intrude on the Pasha’s grief unbidden. The doctor will stay here with you. You will let him enter the room only if the Pasha asks for him. If anyone else tries to enter, you will kill them.”

Karayannis tugged at his sleeve like a frightened child. “What are you doing, captain? Surely, the Pasha should not be left alone in there. Do you realize what the grief may do to him? Or what he may decide to do? To Yannina? To his harem, his servants? Maybe even to you?”

Tahir brushed the doctor’s hand away. “I am trying to honor the lady Eminee’s sacrifice. Our Pasha will come out of his grief the man she wanted him to be, or the man she feared he would become. Meanwhile, I will try to see to it that there is something left to come out
to!

T
hroughout an endless night, the palace of Yannina held its breath.

Its guard captain all but wore out his boots pacing to and fro outside Eminee’s door. The levies, grumbling, had left and set up camp on the road to Souli, the servants were trembling in their beds, the harem women sobbing quietly in theirs.

At the hour of the wolf, exhausted by dread, even the guards were dozing on their feet. But two persons in the palace had long been accustomed to nights without sleep. One was the Pasha himself, doing nobody knew what, for the door to the lady Eminee’s chamber was a solid one, and noone dared put an ear to it.