SERAGLIO by Colin Falconer Read Free Book Online Page A

gauze over the distant panorama of the mountains. From here he could see the scarlet tent of the Grand Vizier, his standard with the six horsetails limp in the still of the morning.
    Seraskier Sultan!
    Rüstem turned and rode away towards the north. He spurred his horse beyond the first ridge, then wheeled around and galloped west. When he did not return Ibrahim would assume the Shah's men had murdered him. By the time he gave him up for lost he would be in Stamboul.
    Seraskier Sultan!
     
     
    Topkapi Saraya
     
    Suleiman crumpled the letter in his fist, his face ugly with grief.
    The pashas and muftis and generals who surrounded him all fell silent. They tried to look miserable, but they didn't fool anyone. He knew what they were all thinking. The vain boastful Greek had finally written his own death warrant!
    Rüstem Pasha stood in the centre of the Divan, waiting his turn to speak. There was no scent of perfume on him now. He stank of horse. He claimed to have ridden for three weeks from the borderlands of Azerbaijan to bring his news.
    I would rather your horse had fallen and broken your neck, Suleiman thought.
    'You wrote this at his command?' he said finally.
    'Yes, great lord. He bid me take it to the Shah Tamasp. He affixed your seal.'
    Suleiman knew he was trapped. Ibrahim, I could have forgiven you anything, but not this! If Rüstem had come to me privately with this, I could perhaps have found some way to excuse you. But now he has made it public and presented me with your treachery in front of everyone. There is nothing I can do for you.
    What have you done?
    'Why did you not do as he commanded and take this to the Shah?'
    'My Lord, I know my duty. I could not allow such treachery to take place. I am your loyal servant.'
    You pathetic little worm! Suleiman thought. How dare you speak to me of treachery! Ibrahim has served me faithfully for more than a quarter of a century, he is my boyhood friend, he was my Seraskier, now my Vizier. How do you know this was really treachery? How can you be so certain?
    'The Sultan owes you a great debt, Defterdar Rüstem,' he forced himself to say. He stared at the crumpled parchment in his fist. 'How does the campaign progress?'
    'Since Tabriz, Ibrahim Pasha trails the Shah through the mountains but our only glimpse of him has been the dung of his horses. The Agas urge Ibrahim to Baghdad but he ignores their counsel. He says he is the only one capable of achieving victory. He says it has always been so.'
    A sigh passed around the chamber. How dare Rüstem say such things! Suleiman wondered. He repeats these calumnies in front of everyone as if they were figures from a balance sheet.
    'What of the morale of my army?'
    'They all ask for your presence to lead them. Without you they believe they cannot achieve victory. Even the Yeniçeris believe Ibrahim will only lead them further into the mountains, to disaster.'
    Suleiman watched the dust filtering through the shafts of yellow sunlight. The passage of dust; the passage of life, the passage of all reputations.
    Behind him, high on the wall, was the dangerous window. There was no one there this morning to witness Ibrahim's fall of grace, but Suleiman wished with all his heart that he was up there now, that he could watch someone else make the terrible decision that he knew must finally be made.

Chapter 12
     
    The Eski Saraya
     
    Suleiman removed his turban and ran a hand over the smooth skin of his scalp to the single scalplock at the base of his skull, the legacy of his ghazi forefathers. He closed his eyes. He felt the weight of his royalty more keenly today than any time in the fifteen years since he had taken his throne.
    She entered silently through a velvet curtain and knelt at his feet. For once she had no smile to greet him. She kissed his hand and rested it against his cheek.
    'You knew?'
    'Yes, my Lord.'
    'How?'
    'Whispers in the Harem.'
    'How is it the Harem know everything that happens even before I do?'
    'When I came