The Wanderer by Mika Waltari Read Free Book Online

that on the contrary I bitterly regretted my stupidity in drawing back from her at so auspicious a moment. She grew calmer and at last said hopefully, “Captain Torgut expects to get a good price for me in Jerba, and he told me that was why he spared my virtue. But it must have been mere politeness, for if he had really liked me he would have kept me for himself.”
    I was enraged at her unreasonable attitude, and more maddened still to think that I must lose her and perhaps never see her again. The blue and brown brilliance of her eyes was so enchanting that I could not imagine how I had ever feared her.
    “Giulia, Giulia! Only old men are rich, and some repulsive gray- beard will buy you. Why didn’t I take you while I could, so that at least we could have shared the memory ? Now there will never be anything for us to share.”
    But at this she stared at me in amazement.
    “You take too much for granted. If you’d tried to do any such thing I would have scratched your face.”
    “Then why did you come with me to that lonely place, and why were you so angry when your eyes aroused in me the feelings rather of a brother than of a lover?”
    Giulia shook her head slightly and sighed.
    “If I talked till doomsday you’d never understand. Of course I hoped that you would try, and perhaps you might have succeeded, as the place was deserted and you are stronger than I. But you did not try, Michael, and that is what I can never forgive you. I hope you will come to suffer bitterly for my sake. My dearest wish is that you may see others pay sacks of gold for what you might have had for nothing. This may give you something to think about for a long time to come.”
    I perceived that I understood little of feminine logic. She veiled her face once more and left me alone, a prey to exceedingly confused ideas. In her present mood I hardly recognized the modest, straightforward woman I had known.
    That night I beheld such a shower of falling stars that for a moment the dark sky seemed strewn with sparks. The man at the steering oar murmured Arabic words, and when I asked him what they meant he answered, “I trust in God and not the devil stoned.” He explained that Allah used the lower stars to throw at the devil, and so it was a good omen that Allah should be doing this as we neared the isle of Jerba.
    The explanation seemed to me childish, but I said nothing—only sighed and thought of the slavery awaiting me.
    Next day we entered Jerba harbor. Torgut appeared on deck to lead the prayers and the whole crew donned their finest clothes. They avoided blue, I soon learned, because it was the Christian color, and also yellow, which was the color of the Jews. Both Andy and I were given a clean strip of stuff to bind in a turban round our heads. As I could do no more for my own adornment, I washed the dog, despite vigorous opposition, and combed his curly coat with my fingers.
    The low, sandy isle beneath a burning sun presented no very cheering prospect. As we drew level with the beacon at the mouth of the harbor, Torgut ordered a shot to be fired from his light harquebus only, to show that this time his spoils were little to boast of. I saw the low cupola and white minaret of the mosque, a swarm of mud huts and, on a green mound, the walled residence of Sinan the Jew. But the governor did not ride down in state to meet us, as no doubt he would have ridden if we had arrived firing a salute of cannon and flying the flags of victory. Only a gang of ragamuffins had collected on the beach, and the harbor felt like a glowing oven as we entered it from the cool sea.
    Despite our fine clothes and flashing weapons we looked a pitiful little group as we set off along the dusty bridle track to Sinan’s kasbah. At our head walked the Negro with the scimitar, carrying on his back the sack full of Christian heads. After him, their hands bound behind them, came the four seamen who had been found suitable for the galleys. Andy and I walked with a