early readers’ comments - historical fiction€¦ · gardeners: the revolutionary generation,...
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EarlyReaders’CommentsEXCERPTSFROMBOOKSELLERS’ENDORSEMENTS
Thisisasurefireseries.ThenebulousNavigatorsareakeyelement,Ithink,sincetheyprovideafantasy
elementandwellaslinkingthestories.DoesCynthianaappearinthenextone?Ihopeso.
IwouldpublishTheColonialsfirst.Ithinkyoungreaderswillenjoyandrecognizetheacademyforroyalsas
pureHarryPotter.I’mgladyoutieeachoftheroyalteensbackintothestory(it’sacleverplot).
At a time when history seems particularly vital and textbooks seem increasingly bland, a series of
historicalnovelslikethisisrefreshing,andmuch-needed.Theserieswilldowellwiththosealready
clamoringforanotherDanBrownnovelorthenextinstallmentfromAlexanderMcCallSmith,butIbelieveit
willalsoexpandonthoseaudiences,offeringentertainmenttothosewhoaremostlynonfictionconsumers,
and a dose of history for those oriented toward straight mystery and thriller. The timing couldn’t be
betterforthesesubstantiveandentertainingnovels.
—LaurenE.Snyder/Bookseller
MalapropBooks/AshevilleNorthCarolina
Thishasallthemakingsofawonderfulliteraryproperty.It’slikeTheDaVinciCodemeetsKidnapped.
It also remindsme of theBritish seriesWolfBrother (I’m not surewhy). I know of at least half a dozen
people,bothadultsandteens,Icouldsellyourfirstbooktorightnow(andinteresttheminthenextone).
IfirmlyplacethewritinginTheColonialandTheBookKeepwithSteveBerry,BernardCornwell,AJHartley,
andevenalittleDanBrown.
Pleasekeepmepostedontheprogressofthesebooks;Ilookforwardtosellingthem.
—SherriSmith/ParkRoadBooks
Charlotte,NorthCarolina
It’sacleverpremise,tohaveteenagedheroescomingofageandchanginghistory,aidedbythe
mysteriousSocietyofNavigators.Itseemsyoucouldspinoutanalmostendlesscycleofsimilarlycolorful
scenarios.Theexistenceofasecretsocietyaddsabitofmysteryanddarknesstothestory.
Thiswillcertainlyappealtoteens.Whilethewritingmaybechallengingforsomeyoungadults,itisnotany
more so than J.K. Rowling, and not nearly asmuch as books likeOctavian Nothing.Teachers will love
thesebooks.Wehaveanumberofteacherswhofrequentthestore,andtheyarealwayslookingforagood
booktheycanusetosupplementtheirlessonplans.
I would recommend this series to anyone who likes Dan Brown, James Michener, Elizabeth Kostova or
PatrickO’Brian.
—GinaGlenn/Bookseller/Buyer
MalapropBookstore/Asheville,NorthCarolina
THE
COLONIALSBYTOMDURWOOD
ISBN978-0-9991435-0-6
PublishedbytheEmpireStudiesPress
www.empirestudies.com
Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeanswhatsoeverwithoutexpresswrittenpermission
fromtheauthor,exceptinthecaseof
briefquotationsembodiedincriticalarticlesandreviews.Pleasereferallpertinentquestionstothepublisher.
Illustrationscopyright©VictorinRipert
Mapcopyright@2017JasonJuta
BookdesignbyTeaBerryCreative
Printing#1:July,2017
PrintedinChina
AUTHOR’SNOTE
In an address to the Organization of American Historians some time ago, OAH President James Oliver
Hortonargued that if thepromiseofAmerica is tobe fulfilled, itspeoplemustunderstand itshistory.He
calledforanewgenerationofhistorianstoplaceAmericainitsrightfulcontext,aglobalcontext—toportray
U.S.historynotasastoryseparatedfromtherestoftheworld,butaspartofaworldnarrative.
This story—the story of theAmericanRevolution—is like that.Beneath thepopular tales of theAmerican
Revolutionliesalargerandmorecomplexnarrative—aglobalnarrative.Iamnotsmartenoughtotellit,but
Iamhappytosuggestitinthislittleadventure.
AtthesametimetheSwampFoxwasraidingCornwallisintheCarolinalowlands,FrenchandBritishforces
foughtfivenavalbattlesoffthecoastofIndia.
Concurrent to theColonialscrossing theDelaware tosurpriseVonDonop, the two largestGermanstates,
Austria and Prussia, established an “enlightened absolutism” and fought to push one another out of the
GermanFederation.Between Pontiac’s Rebellion andWashington’s inauguration, the population of China
balloonedto300millionwiththeintroductionofpotatoesandpeanutsfromAmerica,whiletheEmperor’s
eldestsonperpetuatedsomeoftheworstcorruptioninthehistoryoftheQingDynasty.
TheAmericanRevolutionwasfoughtintheworld.Allofthisplayedapart.
One view or theory connecting these global forces is the coming of themodern age: that the industrial
revolutionwasbringinganeconomicendtotheslavetrade,andthebeginningoffullrightsforall.Inbooks
likeEmpireandColossus, one ofmy favorite historians, Niall Ferguson, paints the picture of a world of
risingempiresandfallingcultures,aworldconvulsedbyglobaleconomicforces,andsocialforcessetinto
motionbytheenginesofmodernproduction.
Thestatement inmystorybyCatherine theGreat’sdisciple,Clotilde, regardingbotanyandtheAmerican
Revolution, represents a school of thought suggested by AndreaWulf in her outstanding book,Founding
Gardeners:TheRevolutionaryGeneration,Nature,andtheShapingoftheAmericanNation.Oneofthemany
ideasshebringsintoherbookisthat“it’simpossibletounderstandthemakingofAmericawithoutlooking
atthefoundingfathersasfarmersandgardeners.”
Thisbotany-and-empire connection is givena fuller expressionby a characternamedSaulDubinsky,who
appearsinBookFive.DubinskybecomescaretakeroftheNavigatorarchivesandtheiruniquecontents,and
itishewhonarrativizesseveraloftheSocietyadventures.
Iwant to thankseveralofmy teachers for theirgenerosity:RobertAshcomand JerryWhitson (Pem-Day);
Chuck Sanborn, Coaches Alexander and Conley, and Rudy Weber (Mount Hermon); G.D. Stagg, D.M.
Summerscale,A.S.White,OlivervanOssandJ.C.Phillips(Charterhouse).
Thisbookisdedicatedtomyparents.
TomDurwood
ValleyForge,PA
WhoshallwritethehistoryoftheAmericanRevolution?
Whocanwriteit?Whoshalleverbeabletowriteit?
—JohnAdams
PROLOGUE
Smokecurledoverthebattlefield.
TheColonialshadbeenovercomebysuperiormanpower,superiorartillery,andsuperiortactics.
ThemenofBostonhadrunoutofbullets.
NowMajorAlexanderLindsay,SixthEarlofBalcarres,atall,elegantman,walkedthefieldatBreed’sHill
withhisLieutenantstoexactafinalprice.
Fallenstandardslitteredthered-scarredground,scatteredamongthewoundedsoldiers.Theairwasfilled
withtheirmoans
Thereissuchathingaschivalry.
AtBlenheim,JohnChurchill,theFirstDukeofMarlborough,capturedhisenemy,MarshalTallard.Seeing
thatTallardwaswounded,theDukeoffereduphisowncoachfortheenemycommandertorecuperate,while
he(Churchill,thatis)rejoinedthefray.
Thereissuchathingashonorableconductinwar.
Saladin,atJaffa,sawthathisarchenemy,Richard,foughtwithoutstandingbravery,againstterribleodds.
WhenhesawRichard’shorsegetshotoutfromunderhim,Saladinsenttwoofhisownhorses,sothatthe
Crusadercouldfighton,inaworthymanner.
Thereisindeedatraditionofcivilityonthebattlefield.
Butnothere.NotatBunkerHill.
“ForGod’ssake—”beggedayoungpatriotwholayontheground,attemptingtorisedespitehiswounds.
Balcarresjammedhisbayonetintheboy’sthroat.
“Thisisatrocity—”gaspedanotherColonial,anolderman.“You’llpay,Balcarres—’
“No,”repliedBalcarresasheemptiedhispistolintheman’schest.“They’llblameitontheCayuga—”
Hehandedthepistoltooneofhislieutenants.Hewasgivenafreshly-loadedgun.
“Thesearefarmers,”saidtheEarlofBalcarres.“Citizensoldiers.
“Theydon’tknowhowtofight.Theythinkthattheirpassionfortheirhomelandwillwintheday.”
“Icalluponyourhumanity, sir,”saidaColonialwhohadmanagedtositup.“Ifnot forme, then for the
boys—”
“Butyoulost,”commentedBalcarresasheshotthemanintheface.“Youlostthebattle.”
He reloaded the pistol, taking his time, relishing the ceremony of it. He took up a rifle and fixed the
bayonet.
“WegavemercytoMonroatFortHenry,”calledayoungContinentalwhose leghadbeenshattered.He
wasahandsomeyouth,withburningeyes.
“ColonelMunroisnothere,”repliedBalcarresbrisklyashestucktheyouthintheneckwithabayonet.He
twistedtheblade.
“Thisinsurrectionwillgoawayquickly,”theBritishofficerpronouncedtothesmallentouragewalkingwith
himacrossthefield.
The unplanned engagement that had no name, the conflict that we call The Battle of Bunker Hill in
retrospect, had been a one-sided affair. The rag-tag herd of patriot farmers had been annihilated by a
professionalarmywithstrategicskillanddisciplinedpurpose.Thishadnotbeenabattleintendedtowound
a fewenemysoldiersandsoconvince them to surrenderand retreat. Itwasnotabattle to influence the
enemy,orashowof strength,orabattle forposition.TheBritish intended tokillevery lastcolonial they
possiblycould.Thefastertheydidso,thesoonertheycouldquashtherebellionandreturnhome.
“Theywritewell,theseBostonians,”saidBalcarre.“Buttheydonotknowhowtofight.
“AndNorthwassoworried.”
“Wewillsoonownalltheirfarms.Theirwives.Theircows.
“Whowillsavethem?”smirkedBalcarres.
TheBritishofficerrepeatedthequestion,asthoughhelikedthesoundofit.
“Whoisit?”
Hepausedtocockandfirehispistolatanotherprostatewoundedman.
“WhoisitthattheColonialshopewillcome,fromEurope,tosavethem?Eh?
“Who?”
PARTONE
ThePact
Letthosewhohaveabundancerememberthattheyaresurroundedwiththorns…
—JohnCalvin
1
IMEETJIAYIMEIYING
It’sobvioushe’sbeensentsomekindofmessage.—RichardAdams
July,1775,Amsterdam,TheNetherlands
“HowCANyou?”exclaimedJohannes.
Close-up, sitting at the chessboard, Imust have looked impossibly young.Wide-eyed, impressionable, a
splashoffrecklesacrossmynose,sandy-hairspillingacrossawhitecollar.
“Howcanyoucuthimoutofthefamilybusiness?”
Letussaythatitall—thewholeadventure,really—startedatthemomentIwasdeniedmyrightfulplacein
thisworld.
Iwasdismissed.
Iwaswronged.
Iwasfourteen,andsuddenlyalone.
Ifavoredmymother’sside,inlooksanddemeanor—slim,stoic,light-haired,quiet(toafault).
Neitherparentfavoredme,however,asIwasabouttofindout.
“Youmightaswelldisinherithim!”
Mygodfather,theshippingagentJohannesSykes,pacedbackandforthbeforemyparents,irate,asthey
dined.
I satatachessboardby thewindowofmy family’sdiningroom,with itsdramaticblack-and-white floor
tilesandtapestriesandmantledfireplaces.
Ourfamilycatsatoppositeme.ImadetheBishopSacrificeonherturn.
ThesprawlingOldenbarnevelthomemademuchofpatternsoflight.Theywereeverywhere—ontheblack-
and-white checkerboard tiled floors of the kitchens, resting softly on the wooden roof beams, cutting
diagonalsonthepatternedrugs,glowingonthecream-coloredporcelainplatesadorningthehighshelves,
sparking prisms of color in the goblets of stippled glass.Hand-painted fabric designs from India and the
Orient hung on thewall. Outside, visible through the tall windows, shipsmoved on the stately canals of
Amsterdam.
“ThatisexactlytheOPPOSITEofwhatyoushouldbedoing—”
“Primogeniture.”repliedmyfather,PietrOldenbarnevelt.“It’snotexactlyanewpractice, Johannes.The
first-born gets everything.” He was a formal man, my father, smart but not brave, aware of traditions,
sensitivetosociety’sopinions.
“Andyouapproveofthis?”demandedJohannesMickleroftheround-facedwomanattheotherendofthe
well-settable.Mymother.
MadameO.noddedasshefinishedchewingamouthfulofroastbeef.
“ButWillissmarterthanCaspar,”arguedMickler.“Nooffense,”headded,withanodtoCaspar,mytall,
elegantolderbrother,whostoodbesidemyfather’schair.
“Nonetaken,”saidCaspar.
“Casparissociallyadept,”saidMother.“Heiswell-liked.Willispainfullyshy.”
“Willisahardworker,”saidMickler.“IhavetoldyouhowhelpfulhewaswiththeIntrepid’sledgers.”
“Hespendstoomuchtimeamongtheshipsandthesea-men,”saidMother.“Toolittleamongthepeople
whocount.”
“Casparistheolderbrother,”pronouncedFather,endingthediscussion.
“Casparinherits.
“Hewillhavelawyersandbankerstoadvisehim.Twobrothers,twoownerswouldneverdo.”
“Then,”saidJohannes,“ifyouaretobanishyouryoungersonfromthefamilybusiness,mayIsuggestthat
yougranthimalesserroute,ortwo?TheBosporus,forinstance.”
“Givehimatraderoute,youmean?ToBosporus?”askedCaspar.
“Aye,” saidMickler. “TheBaltic, theHebrides—theyareof little value, ye theymayallowhim toearna
living.UnlessyouwantanindigentsondecoratingthealleysofAmsterdam.”
“Verywell,”saidFather.“Iagreetothat.”
“AndhaveyoumadeinquiriesintothatFrenchschool,Johannes—?”askedMother.
“Aye.WillandIdepartforMarseillesSaturday.WemeettheChinesegirl.”
Theservantscollectedthedishes.KindBeatricesetoutanextrasliceofpieforme.
“Allverywell,”saidCaspar.“Allgood.”
Fathersippedaglassofsherry,whichhebelievedhelpedhisdigestion.Caspardownedhisinasinglegulp.
Imoved,KnighttoPawn2,knowingIhadsurprisedmyopponent.
Thecatpausedinhergroomingtolookatmewithacombinationofsuperiorityanddisinterest.
“Kingsidepawnrush,”Itoldher.
AstonewallayardhighrunsaroundthewharfsofOldMarseilles,asiftocontainthebedlamofthevarious
classesofseafaringmen,andthesurgesoftradesmen,withtheiremblemsandtoolsandwheelbarrowsand
urgentyells.
Flagsofmanynationswavedinthebreeze,heavywithfragrancesfromAfricaandtheAdriatic.Members
oftheFireCompanydashedbeneathasigngivingthetidetables,todealwithablazeononeofthetimber-
ladenshipsfromSweden.
Wesaw theChinesegirl’s raisedhandamong theswinginghoistsandstackedbarrelsbeneath thesalt-
house.Besideher stoodabrickof aman, squareandpowerfullybuilt.Asweapproached,his stolid face
brokeintoasmile.
“Waiguoren!”heexclaimed.
“Ah!Laomengyou!”saidJohannesasthetwoshookhandswarmly.
“TheyarecomradesfromtheDzungar-Qing,”saidthegirltome.“IamJiayiWeiYing.”
“WillOldenbarnevelt,”saidI.
Shegrippedmebythehandandaskedmetorepeatmyname.Shesmiled.
“That is toomuch topronounce,” she said. “Iwill call youWillO.This ismyuncle:NiuFangBo.”Her
braidsshoneinthelight;shesmelledofmint.
Ishookhandswiththebigman,whosefistcrushedmine.
“Wewillbegreatfriends,youandI,”saidJiayiMeiYing,puttingherarmthroughmine.“Wewillbethe
newonesatschool.”
“Allright,”Isaid.Wewalkeddownthewharflikeapromenade.ThemisgivingsIhadaboutleavinghome
werebeginningtofade.PerhapsIdidhaveafuture,ifpeoplelikeMeiYingwereinit.
Aswewalkedthroughthedocksideparadetowardsourcoaches,Iwasawarethatsomeonewasshadowing
ourmovements,atadistanceoftwentypaces,oneitherside.
“Myfriends,”explainedMeiYing,followingmyeyes.“Thepengyou.Weareknowntocertainenemies.In
theports.WefiledourpapersforCalais,sofewshouldknowofourarrival—”
Asuddenfiercerustleroseamongthelinesofvatsandcrates,signalingastruggle.
Weheardascrape,andthenwhisperedoaths.
Twoquick,loudblowsseemedtoendthematter,followedbyonemore.
Awhistleandanoddclickingsoundpassedbetweentheuncle,FangBo,andtheunseenpengyou(or,as
shewouldsometimescallthem,hert’onganfan).
Wereachedthefourcoaches.Theyhadbeenpackedtight,forthevillageChavaniacwasalongrideinto
theheartland,intothemountains.WehadbroughtadozenchestsofdocumentsfromAmsterdam,andthe
cargofromourChinesefriendswasequal.
“Here,RuanShou.”
MeiYingreachedintothebackofherwaistband.Sheextendedherhandtooffermeaknife.
“Ifyou’retravelingwithme,youbetterhavethis.”
Itwasawickeddagger,slim,withabronzehiltandcarvedwoodengrip,andsixinchesoftaperingblade.
Itwaswell-balancedandfeltindestructible;bladeandhilthadneverbeenapart.Thiswasnoornament,but
aweapon.
Ithankedher.
“WhatdoesRuanShoumean?”Iasked.
“’Softhands,’”repliedMeiYing.
InAllauch,twentymilesoffthecoast,wehadtowaitforanhour,hiddeninanorchard,withaclearviewof
roadsfromthreedirections,beforeNuiFangBowassatisfiedthatwewerenotbeingfollowed.
“IwishIhadenemies,”saidI,withalaugh.
“Oh,youdo,”repliedMeiYing.
Shewasnotinjest.
“Who?”Iasked.
“DoyouknowafamilyofSpaniards?”sheasked.“MartinezdePinillosSaenz,ofCadiz?”
“Yes.”Ianswered.“Iamengagedtobemarriedtotheirniece,Mariana.”
“Thatisyearsaway,Will—”interjectedJohannes,listeningin.
“Surelyyouknow,”saidMeiYing,“thattheVOCopposesSpanishinterestsinMadras,andtheWestIndies,
andtheIvoryCoast.AndthatyourownfamilyisseenaspartoftheDutchcabal.”
“Wearebutlimitedpartners,”saidI.“Wehavenosayintheoperations—”
“TheSpaniardsmakenosuchdistinction,”repliedMeiYing.“Theyarebetteroffifallthemembersofyour
familyweredead.”
Johannes,sittinginthecorner,raisedaneyebrow.
Twothoughtscollidedinmymind:first,thatMissJiayiMeiYingcouldnotpossiblyknowsuchdetailabout
me;and,second,thateverywordshesaidwastrue.
“Theweddingisoff,”Isaidaloud,andthistimeitwasshewholaughed.
2
THESCHOOLFORYOUNGMONARCHS
Dutchmerchantswerepartofalongsupplychainprovidingarmsandsomeof
thefinestgunpowderintheworld.—LarrieD.Ferreiro
OutsideChavaniac,France
“You’resoconceited,”whisperedClotildetotheblondemare,Tessa.
Theyounghorsenoddedherheadinagreement,makingsurehermaneshookoutprettilyinthemorning
sun.
“Youarethemostbeautifulcreature,”confidedClotilde.
Sheheldthecarrotintheflatofherpalm.
Tessa leaned over and took the carrot,munchingwith big crunching sounds, noticing how theRussian
princess admiredher, evenas sheate.Tessawaspregnantwithher first colt, and felt that shedeserved
specialattention,evenmoresothanusual.
“Butnottoobeautifultohelpmewiththecart.”
Clotildetossedthehalteronthemare’sneckandmissed.
The mare snickered and cantered off to join her comrades in the meadow, as the princess cursed in
Russian—
“Comemeetthenewones,”calledLeo.
MeiYingandIclimbedoutofthecoach.
Itdidn’tlooklikeaschool.
Itlookedlikeacrossbetweenaworkingfarm,azoo,andamonastery.Therewereaseriesofbarnsand
barn-yardsandlivestockcorralsontheleft,andastonelodgewhichseemedtoextendforeverontheright.I
couldseebenchesandtablesarrangedundershadedgrovesandalongcobbledpathsthroughthegrounds.
Astreamcamefromtheorchardsattheproperty’snorthernfrontier,acrossthefieldswheresheepgrazed,
downthroughtheextensivegardens,andunderthestonemillthatdominatedthecentralcompound.Some
diversegroupofremarkablearchitectshad left theirmarks:greatwoodenstiltsbuttressedasortof tree-
housewrappedaroundastonetowerthatmighthavebeenleftoverfromtheRomanera;aseriesofrope
bridgesconnectedtreesandtreehouses;hereandthereaMoroccanwindowdesignandaChineseroofgave
hintstotheancientandworldlysourcesfromwhichsprangtheNiddeCorbeaucompound.
Acamelwalkedpast.
The chests, and crates, andwooden boxeswith celestialmarkingswere carried off our coach, causing
greatstir.Iwouldlaterfindoutthatthiswasalandmarkdeliveryofwritings,atreasureofdocumentsfrom
theageoftheWanderer.
Twopeacocks followedthecamel.A familyofgiraffes foragedmethodically in thecrownofashadyoak
tree.
“You’llloveit,”saidLeo,whosejacketshowedacoatofarmswithlions.“Weworkinthefieldsalldayand
thenstudyoldmanuscriptsallevening.”
“Andrecitelessons,”addedMahmet,aroundTurkishboyonlyslightlyolderthanme.
“Andcleanthebarns,”addedLeo.
Iheardthechitterofmonkeys,andsawtwoofthemflitacrossthelowfrontsectionofthebarnroof.
“It’snotsobad,”saidtheRussiangirl.“Thisismythirdsemester.”
Theoldestamongthem,Gilbert,atallFrenchnoble,reachedtograbmybackpack—
“That’srude,”saidClotilde,reachingforGilbert’sarm.
“Don’ttouchhim,”snarledMeiYing.
LeoandGilbertandMahmet(anicknameforthemoreformal‘Mahmoud’)andtheRussiangirl,Clotilde,
turnedandlookedatJiayiMeiYing.
“IthinkIwilltouchhim,”saidGilbert.Hesnatchedmybackpackandshovedme.Ifelltotheground.
Iscrambledtomyfeet,fistsraised.
ButGilbertlaysplayedonhisback,ontheground,eyeswide,nosebleeding.
MeiYinghadkickedhimwithasortofround-housemotionofherlegandfoot—tooquickfortheeyetosee
—andnowshestoodoverhim,still,ready.
“Tryitagain,”shesaid.
Leogavealowwhistle.Clotildeclappedherhands.
“Youmustshowmehowtodothat!”saidGilbert,laughing,firstinFrench,theninEnglish,thenMahmet
repeatedthephrase,alsolaughing,inArabic.
Iwassuddenlygladtobehere,onthesemostunusualgrounds,amongthisodd,smartgroup.
“Lunchisready,”saidtheTurk.“Youmustbestarved—”
“Ionlyeataftermyfriendseat,”saidMeiYing,bowing(butonlyslightly).
“Here and I thought Chinese girls would bemeek,” remarked Leo. “You know. Downcast eyes. Rather
subservient.”
“IamnotChinesethewayyouthinkofChinese,”answeredMeiYing.“IamYunhejiating.”
“Andwhatisthat?”askedLeo.“Acity?”
“Aclan.WeareoftheGrandCanal,”repliedMeiYing.
“Yes,”saidClotilde.“MasterDubintoldus.”
“WhyarewespeakingEnglish?”askedMeiYing.
“SouventFrancaisaussi,”answeredClotilde.
“WespeakEnglishoutofrespectfortheColonials,”answeredLeo.
“TheBostonians,”addedMahmet.
“TheContinentals,”saidLeo.
“Weadmiretheircause,andintendtohelpthem,”saidClotilde.
“Youallhavedifferentanswerstothesamequestion,”remarkedMeiYing.
“That’sthewayitshouldbe,”saidGilbert.
Aswewalkedaroundtheyardtowardsthekitchens,IcomplimentedMahmetonthebrightredpatterned
coathewore.
“Hethinksitmakeshimlookwarriorly,”saidLeo.“Clotildesaidso.”
“Itremindsmeofhome,”correctedMahmet.“Itwasagiftfrommyfather.TheCaliph.”
“YoushouldhaveseenhowUmukorodressed,”saidLeo.
“TheAfricannavigator,”explainedMahmet.
“Warrior-King,”addedLeo,withadmiration.
Weturnedthecornerandwalkedintoacloudofsmokefromroastingmeats,andthesoundofvegetables
beingchopped,rapidly,onacuttingboard.
Atlunch,underthewide-setceilingbeamsofthecommonroom,MasterDubinstoodandraisedhisglass.
“LetuswelcomeJiayiMeiYing,”hesaid.“Youarewell-named,mygirl.Wearehappytohaveyouhere.
“Owbenpho!”Helaughedathisownpronunciation.“ThelasttimewehadaYunhejiatingonthiscontinent
wasthecentenary.Huanyingjintian,pengyou!”
A curious young giraffe stuck its head through the tall open windows. It slowly extended his neck to
sampletheivydecoratingthewalls.
“LetuswelcomeyoungWillOldenbarneveldt,”continuedMasterDubin.Allraisedtheirglasses.“Theytell
mehewillbeagreatbankeroneday.Heismuch-respectedbytheAgency.Muchwelcomed,Will.Hear,hear.
“Showhimhowwedothings,won’tyou?Good.
“Now,”hecontinued. “Thenews fromAmerica isdesperate.Farworse thanAdamsand Jeffersonwould
liketheworldtoknow.
“Muchwillbeaskedofyouyoungmenandwomen,thesecomingweeks,”hesaid.“Morethanyouthink
youcando.Butthestakesarehigh.
“TheprivilegedyoungmerchantprincesofHollandandtheCaliphsofConstantinoplemaynotyetknowit,
buta storm is coming.FromVirginia toParis toMoscow,Cuddalore toPeking,andallpointsbetween.A
worldwar.
“ThisAmericanrebellionismerelythefirstskirmish.
Hepettedthegiraffe’sneckasitswungslowlyacrosstheheadtable.
“Wewillseeaworld-wideshift.Anearthquake.Ithasnativepeoplesriled,allacrosstheglobe,andforthe
good.Lastweek,arebellionbrokeoutononeoftheBatavianplantations.”
MasterDubindrainedthegoblethewasholding.
“Astoyourpartinallthis.Therisinggenerationineachofyournationswillneedaclearhead.Pointing
theway.Toanewwayofthinking.
“Thatwouldbeyou.
“Apply yourself to all of your choreshere.Understandeverythingabout your lessons.Take thegreatest
careinthesmallestdetail.
“Eachtaskdeservesyourbesteffort,andmaysaveyourlifemonthshence.
“Attheendofthesemester,ifyouaresuccessful,youwillreceiveoneofthese.”
Herolleduphissleevetodisplayasmalltattoo,inhenna,ofanancientcompass,asthePhoeniciansmight
haveusedontheirvoyagesaroundAfrica,ontheinsideofhiswrist.“ThemarkoftheNavigators.Itisknown
ineveryport,andmayprotectyouinyouradventures.”
ThetallwomantohisleftleanedoverandspokeinDubin’sear.
“Lastly,awarning.Wehave localmonarchistswhomisunderstandourpurpose.Theymayseek todous
mischief,orworse.
“Beonyourguardasyouworkinthewesterngardens,upbythequarries,andinthevillagemarket.”
Dubinlookeddown,andreadfromaletter,oneofthedocumentsthathadarrivedwithourcoach.
“Happy,thricehappy,”heread,“shalltheybepronouncedhereafter,whohavecontributedanything.Who
haveperformedthemeanestofficeinerectingthisstupendousfabricofFreedomandEmpire…”
Herehepaused,asIwouldlearnwashishabit,asifhewererollingoverinhismindaparticularsyllable,
orword,orphrase.
“ThisstupendousfabricofFreedomandEmpire,onthebroadbasisofIndependence.Whohaveassistedin
in protecting the rights of human nature, and establishing an Asylum for the poor and oppressed of all
nations,allreligions.”
MasterDubinfoldedthepaper.
“Stupendousfabric,indeed.Hemeansus,ladiesandgentlemen,”hesaid,fixingeachofusinturnwithhis
eye.
“Oh,wewillcontribute.”
Heexited,withasignalthatwemightfinishdessertanddisperse,JohannesandNiuFangBoathisheels.
DubinmotionedforMeiYingandmyselftofollowthem.
Upstairs,inDubin’schambers,offthelibrary,asmallergroupconvened.
“WashingtonsayshemaynotmakeittoSpring,”Dubintoldus.
“Butamongthenewpapers,”hecontinued“aretheproxiesfromAsia.Wenowhaveaquorum.Theyhave
voted:AllIn.
“WecastourfortunewiththeColonials.”
“Youxiu!”saidNuiFangBo,shakingonefist.
“Thefirsttranche,”continuedDubingravely,usingawordheremeaning‘investment,’or‘allotment,’“will
gotopowderandmunitions,andwagesforWashington’smen.Johannes,youwillsendthistoAmsterdam.
ThePennsylvaniamilitiamenhavenotbeenpaidsinceApril,andwillsoondeserthim.
“The secondgoes tranchegoes toSoloman—SolomanandRobertMorris.Theymust stay solvent, at all
costs.
“ThethirdgoestoAdams,whosaysallislostifhecannotdefendCharlestonwithships.”
“Canwecoverallthat?”askedJohannes.I,whowellknewthoseledgers,nodded.
“Wewillneedmore,”saidDubin.“Wemayhavetosellsomeoftheseedcollection—”
“Sire!”saidI.“Youcannot—”
“ThereisamoneyedRussianagronomerwhoknowstheirvalue—”
The seeds thatColom’s pilot, Fieschi, smuggled from theNewWorld formed the heart of the Society’s
fortune.Foracenturyandahalf,Navigatorshaddiligentlycontributedtothatcollection.Thesingulararray
offruitsandvegetablesgrownonthehiddenAzoressitehadblossomedintoanempireofseedsandproduce
toexporttoEurope.
“Itmaynotcometothat,”saidJohannestome.
“This,whatwearedoingnow—”saidDubinwithconviction.“Thisisthefunctionofmoney.”Hehadmade
uphismind.“Thisisnowhim.”
“RemembertheEricksons,”warnedJohannes.HemeantthefamiliesofthethreeAmericanNavigators;all
themaleshadperishedatBunkerHill.
“Youcannotchampionacauseifyouarenotpresent.”
“Thisisascloseaswe’llgettothefighting,”answeredDubin.“TheColonials’causewillbewonorlostin
libraries,orcourtrooms,oringardens,asmuchasonanybattlefield.”
3
ENCOUNTERINTHEVILLAGESQUARE
Thosewhohadsquanderedtheirfreewillwere…ripeforenslavement.
—SimonSchaama
ThemorningoutingtothevillageofChavaniacstartedinnocently.
“Mahmet,youenjoyeating.”
Clotildesmiled.
“Comeandsmellthelentils,”shesaid.“Picktheonesyoulike—”
Wewereinthevillagemarketearlythatmorningtosetupboothsforourfruitsandvegetables—theNidde
Corbeauproduce,Ihadlearned,waswidelyadmired.Villagersvisitedourlongstallbeneaththebannerofa
crow’sheadinacircle.Musicplayedinthesquare,wherechildrendanced.
Clotildepickedupahandfuloftheflageoletbeans.Sheworeabluescarfatherneck,adistinctiveRussian
blue.Sherolledthewhitebeansthroughherfingers.MahmetandLeostoodwatchingher.
“Canyousmellthem?”sheasked.“Italmostsmellslikehazel.”
Sheleanedoverthetableandinhaled.Bothboyswatched.Longcurlsofherlighthairfellinprofusionover
hershoulders.Herdelicatealabasterhandsstirredamongthelegumes.Large,blueeyesabovefull,ruby-red
lipsturnedtowardsthem,andshesmiled,sothatherglisteningwhiteteethshowed,andshetiltedherhead
towardsthemprovocatively.
“Canyou?”
The stocky youngTurkishPrince,Mahmet, andhis companion, theGermanboy, Leo,moved across the
villagemarketplacetojointheirfriendandfellowstudent,CountessClotildeUshakov.
Shestoodatavegetablestall,whereanelderlyfarmcouplewatchedoveralongtableofplenty:displayed
ontheroughtableclothswerewildfruitjelliesandhoney,bottlesofciderandsprucebeer,platesoffragrant
cheeses,terrinesandrillettes,herbsofeverydescription,andanarrayof lentilsgatheredfromthefertile
fieldsofLePuyandYssingeaux.
Wehadriddeninawagondownthetwistingroadfromthemanortobuyandsellfood,tovisitthevillage
shops,tocollectmail,andtobuycandy,andtomingleamongthecommoners.JianyiWeiYingandNuiBo
andtheircompanionspreferrednottobeseeninpublic.
“Arethesenotunusual?”laughedClotildeasMahmetandLeocautiouslyinspectedthelegumes.“Seehow
thin-skinnedtheblondelentilsare.”
“ItistruethatIenjoygoodfood,”repliedMahmoudMustafaHasanHusameddinCezayrili,thirdsonofthe
firstwifeofSultanAbdulhamid,CaliphofallMuslims,SecularRulerofAlltheOttomanEmpire.
“Iliketoeat,”saidMahmet.“ButIdonotcook.Peasantscook.”Atthis,LeoKrummensee-Grabmaler,Heir
totheHouseofHohenzollern,LesserBaronoftheMargraviateofBrandenburg,snickered.
“We agreed to call them ‘citizens,’” corrected Clotilde, who was the eldest niece of Sophie Friederike
AugustevonAnhalt-Zerbst,nowknownasEkaterinaAlexeevna,EmpressofAllRussia.
“Verywell,”saidMahmet.“Thecitizenswhoaremyservantsenjoycookingforme.Theyhavetoldmeso
oncountlessoccasions.”
“Howstupidareyou?”demandedGilbertduMotier,whostoodnearby.
Thisoutburstsurprisedthem.ThemoodyGilbertsorarelyaddressedhisfellowstudentsdirectly.Gilbert
MarieJeanPaulJosephRocheYvesGilbertduMotier,ChevalieroftheNoaillesDragoons,heirtoafortune
almostbeyondmeasure,wasamongtheeldestandmostrespectedofstudentsattheAcademyforRoyals.
“Theydon’t enjoy cooking for you, anymore than they enjoywashing yourdirty clothes or shoeing the
dirtyhoovesofthehorseyourideorshovelingsnowfromyourpathsothatyoudonotgetwetfeet.They
don’tevenlikeyou,”Gilbertcontinuedloudly,warmingtothetopic.
Clotildehurriedlypaidforthelentilsandusheredthegroupawayfromthestallsandoutintothecobbled
streets.
“Theydon’trespectyou.Amongst themselves, they laughat thespoiledbratwhocouldnotevenearna
singleday’spayforhonestlabor.”
“Dothey?”askedI.“Dotheyreallylaughatus,Jeelbare?”
Thisideaupsetme,profoundly.
“Howdoyouknow?”
Gilbertsmirkedandshookhishead.
“Anyonewhohasamonetaryrelationshipwithyou…cannotbebelieved,”he toldWillO. “Ifyouoryour
family inanywaybenefitsthem,thenofcourse theywillalways laughatyour jokes,andagreewithyour
everyopinion,andcomepromptlywhenyouareaggrieved.Butfalselyso.Alwaysfalselyso.Tellthemyou
havenomoney.Tellthemyouhavelostallyourmoneygambling,andthatyourfamilyneedslotsoffood,and
aplacetostay.Thenyoumayseehowdeeptheirdevotionis.”
“Jeelbare,whyareyousoupset?”askedClotilde.“DidyourletterfromAmericanotarrive?”
“No!Itdidn’t!Butthatisbesidethepoint.Ifweareevertoamounttoanything,anyofus,wemustshed
these ridiculous shackles of affluence.That is thepoint of everything that is happening.Can younot see
that?”
TheTurkishPrincewasaboutto lendhisopinionwhensuddenlytworidersonhorsebackappeared ina
greatshowofsnortingandclatter,rightinfrontofthefivestudents,blockingtheirway.
Thetwomenwerecollectors,intheemployofthelocallord.Swordshungfromtheirsaddles.Theirsteeds
wereblack-manedFriesians,horseswhosescarredhidesgaveproofofpastbattles:thesewerewarhorses,
beastsasmightoncehavepulledachariot,andtheystrainedattheirriders’reins,eagertochargeintothe
students’midst.
“We are thirsty,” declared one of the riders gruffly. The bright yellow and red crossed-keys-with crown
patchmarkedthemasmonarchistsintheemployofPierreCoffinhall,titledLordoftheneighboringestates,
staunchsupporteroftheKing.
“Werequireatribute,”statedthefirstrider.
Leo,wholongedforbattle,turned,hiseyesgrowingwide.
“Youlotlookflushenough—”saidthesecond.
“Beware,thourustic.Thoucalumniator!”warnedLeoinimpreciseFrench.
“You’reBrandenburg,”saidoneofthemtoLeo.“You’resafe.Fornow.Whereisthenewone?”hescanned
ourranks.“WhereistheDutchlad—”
Hiseyesfoundme.Mybloodturnedtoice.
Leounsheathedashortdaggerandrushedatthem—
ThesecondriderknockedLeotothegroundwithoutremovinghislegfromthestirrups.
“Ugh!”Leosplayedontheground,hisknifeclattering.
“Givemethat—”ThefirstridersnatchedClotilde’sbagfromherarm.
“Youcan’t—”sheprotested.
“Yes,Ican.Imighttakeyouaswell,Princess—”
Gilbertsteppedforward,handonhilt.
“IamoftheKing’sDragoons,”saidhe,insertingacommongerundbetweentheword‘king’andtheword
‘dragoons’toindicatethathewastheretogivebattle.
“Ah,yes,theNursery-SchoolRegiment.Ihaveheardof it,”chuckledthefirstrider.“Youmustbeouton
maneuversthismorning.Greatdangeramongthefruitstalls.Comeabitcloser,Dragoon—”
Ashadowfellsharplyacrossthelane.Theriderslookedup,squinting.
“Thereiseasierpreythismorning,gentlemen…”saidalow,threateningvoice.
Atallmanhadsteppedintothealleyway,insertinghimselfbetweentheridersandthestudents.Hisbroad
swordbladeflashedshinyandready,inthesunlight,heldatamostwillingangleoutsidetheman’scloak.
“…Elsewherethanhere.”
It was our chaperone, Master Jean Frestel, a man who had fought for the throne at Ramillies and
Malplaquet, and in the Wars of Austrian Succession. In his left hand, he held a flintlock pistol, aimed
squarelyattheleadrider.
TheCoffinhallriderpaused.
“Youwouldn’tshootme—”
“Let’sfindout,”growledFrestel.
Hecockedthepistol’sflintback,makingaheavyclick.
Leo snatched Clotilde’s bag from the second rider’s gloved hand and hissed at the black horse, who
started,confusedbythesound.
Thetworidersglared,thenthoughtbetterofit,andmovedon.
“Looktoyourschool,youngones,”warnedthefirstriderdarkly.“Youmaysoonreceivevisitors.”
MasterFrestelguidedusquicklytowardstheirwagon.
“Didyouhearthataccent?”theschoolmasteraskedaloud.“Hungarians.”
“Ho, I look to thedaywemeetagain, thouHungarians!Thoubrigands!Aaagh!”Leocalledback to the
departinghorsemen,althoughhewasnowspeakinginGerman.
“OhJESUSofNAZARETH.LetmegoandIwillcarvethemlike—ACHILLESABSENTisACHILLESSTILL!
Doyouhearme?”
Hecontinued,inexplicably,inflawedLatin,totheeffectthatthenoblebloodinhisandhisfriends’veins
tracedbacktoCaesar,oratleastthedaysofCaesar.
SoonLeo’swell-craftedwordsbecamelost inthecloppingof thehorses’hoovesonwood,asthewagon
crossedthebridgeovertheriverAllier.
“Any?”Iasked,ofGilbert.“Notanyofourservantsloveus?Areyousureofthat,Jeelbare?”
ButGilbertwasdonespeakingfortheday,soClotildetookupanexplanationofthecaseforequalityinthe
great brotherhood ofman as thewagon rolled through the latemorning sunlight.Hermusical voice and
encouragingwordshoveredoverourlittlegroupaswemovedbravely,uncertainly,upthecurlingroad,and
intothegreenfoothillsabovethevillageChavaniactowardsNiddeCorbeau.
4
RECITATIONS
Youseethebodies.Yousmellthesmoke.Butthelargerpictureeludesyou.
—KurtWimmer
Insidethearchivesthatthirdtime,myeyefellonatall,silentwomanwhostoodinadoorwayalmosthidden
amongthestacks,castingaprotectiveeye.
“HernameisJalmari,”saidMahmet.“She’salwayshere.”
“IheardDubincallherJaraonce,”saidClotilde.
“IthinkherhusbandwasaNavigator,”saidMahmet.“Helsinki.”
Thearchiveswereorganizedbycontinent.Eachtimewecametothatcavernous,punctuatedbyshaftsof
lightfromglasswindowsalongitsslopedroofs,wefoundafolderofdocumentswithournamesonthem.We
servedasscribes,copyingeachdocumentfaithfully,andwhenDubincalledonuswerecitedtotheothers
whatwewerecopying.
Iquicklycametounderstandthattheserecitations—whatseemedlikecasualstorytellingamongourselves
—was our most important method of learning. Because our friends were telling the stories, we could
questionthemuntilwehadaclearsenseofit.Thesesessionsoftenwentonuntillateatnight,andnoone
(otherthanLeo,ofcourse)complained.
IstoodandreadfromaglossaryoftheAmericanIndiansIwastranscribing.WhenIgottotheCherokee
andZuni,Iventuredintohandsymbolsandsignlanguages,whichamusedMeiYinggreatly.
OneoftheEgyptianAsfourbrothersstoodandrecountedthetaleoftheOttomanphysicianPanzehir,and
hisadventureswithserpent-poisonantidotesintheCourtofEmirSaniHath.
MeiYingroseandgaveasuccinctaccountof theVenetianbanksshewas transcribing,newmethodsof
financingtradedevisedoutofnecessity,tomeetthedemandsofclothandwooltradeintheBalticwhenthe
SevenYearsWarcollapsedthemarket.
Someofourclasseslastedafortnight(Poisons,CiphersandCodes),whileothers(Celestials)spannedan
houroverthecourseofasixweeks,andsomeintensiveclasses(RulesofWar)metfortwohours,threetimes
per week, for three weeks). The schedule changed daily, as did the work assignment sheet posted at
breakfast,atdawn.Wewerepaireddifferentlyeveryday,appointed tovarious tasksallover thegardens,
kitchens,borderpatrols,stables,forgesororchard,eventhesmallquarryatthecompound’snorthernmost
grounds.
Theonlythingwealwaysdidtogetherwasthelibraryrecitation.
DubinaskedLeotoexplain(withMahmet’shelp)theBookofInvasions,theBookofLeister,andtheBook
ofBallymote,whichconcernedpatternsoftidalmeasurementsandphasesoftheMoon.
WelearnedaboutaqueductsofGaulandBritonfromGilbert.
“Whatdidyousay,Mahmoud?”askedClotilde, interruptinghistalk.“I’msorry,Iwasthinkingaboutthe
mare.”
“Astatementofarmedneutrality,”repliedMahmet,whohadbeenrecitingfrommemory.
“It’saveryshorttreaty,really,morethanitisastatement”headded,havingamomenttothinkaboutit.
“GenoaneededawaytocontinuetradingwithbothRomeandwiththevariousmembersoftheCambriatic
League.So,sheissuedastatementofneutrality.”
“Neithersidewashappyaboutit,”addedLeo,“butneitherhelditagainsther.”
“Actually,Francewasquitehappy,”correctedMahmet.“LouisexpectedGenoatosidewithSicilyandMilan
andtheothers.”
“Andwhathappenedafterthewar?”askedGilbert.
“Genoaenjoyedstrongrelationswithbothsides.
“Andwhoactuallywonthatwar?Iforget—”
“MaximillianandFerdinand,”answeredMahmet.
MeiYingandIregardedClotilde,rarelysoattentiveduringnarrativesofwar.
“Ah,”wasallClotidesaid.
5
CHORES
Thearistocracyhasnotsurvivedthislongduetoitsintransigence.
—JulianFellowes
“Binha,”respondedGilbert.
He had learned a clutch of Chinese phrases from thepengyou,whoweremaster hunters and runners,
activitieswhichGilbertadmired.
MeiYinghadaskedhim,inFrench,iftheclayhadeffectivelysealedthepipeswheretheyjoined,sothat
nowaterleakedout.
Wewereonthelibraryroof,tryingtoreplicateanimpressiveplumbingarrayofwaterpipesandwhichMei
Ying had seen in one of the archive journals, on Rome’s provinces. The Roman Emperors Caracalla and
Diocletian had apparently pleased (and thereby controlled) their subjects by providing plentiful water in
colossalbaths,damsandreservoirs,drains,spas,heated floorsandhomefaucets—contributionsMeiYing
thoughtwouldbepopularamongherownpeople.
Sheseemedtotakehisanswerassatisfactory,forsheaddedtwomorecopperpipestotheframing.
When shewas done,Mei Ying yelled for Leo to turn on the valve leading from thewater tower (three
barrelsropedtogether,connectedbywoodchutes).
Hedidso.
Thepipesectionsburstapart,sprayingusallinatorrentofwater.
ClotildesworeinearnestatMeiYing.
“Look!”saidMeiYing.“Iftheblock-headed—”theadjectivesheusedwasharsher“—Romanscanbuildit,
socanwe!”
“Iseetheproblem!”calledGilbert.
HeartysoundsofclankingandpoundingonmetalroseintheFrenchskyabovethelibrary.
“Portabam,basbat…”intonedtheinstructorashewalkedamongthedesks.
“Portabamus,batus,bunt…”recitedthestudentsintheclassroom.
Exceptnow,astheinstructortouchedeachstudentontheshoulder,theyloweredtheirvoicestowhispers,
andsomecoveredtheirmouthsaltogether.AcracklingfireplacewarmedtheclassroomfromacoldSpring
morninginthehillsofAuvergene.
“Portabo,bisbit…”continuedtheinstructor.
MasterRaynalhadspiedtheyoungPrussianCountLudvigHelmuthCarlBernhardvonMoltke,knowtohis
classmatesasLeo,inthethirdrow,doodlingathisdesk,andnowtheinstructorconspiredtoembarrasshim.
HeenlistedhisstudentstolessenthevolumeoftheirconjugationofLatinverbs,onebyone,untilthechorus
wassilentexceptforCountLeo’sincoherenthum.
“Porto ba, ba, ba, hunnnh hunnnh, porta bim, bam, bat,” Leo half-sang as he scribbled on his secret
drawing.
The oblivious scribbler did not notice that hiswas the only voice left until the crystal laugh ofClotilde
broughthimtohissenses.
TheGermanheirlookedup,aghast.MasterRaynalsnatchedawaythedrawing.
“Porta‘bimbambat’?”askedMonsieurRaynal.“Isthattheproperconjugation,HerrMueller?Shallwetry
that inasentence,eh?Is thatwhatyouwillsaywhenChancellorKonggratzof theSaxe-WeimarRepublic
wantstonegotiatewithyou—discreetly,inLatin,asheisknowntodo—atastatedinner?Hewillhearyour
mis-conjugatedverbsandthinkyouafool.ThatiswhyIamhere.Toprotectyouandyourunfortunatefamily
fromsuchanembarassment.Toarmyouwiththediplomatictoolsyouwillneed.”
MasterRaynalheldupthesheetofpaper.“Now.Whatisthiscontraption?Whatdoesitdo?”
“Idon’tknow,”mumbledthemiserableLeo.
“Come,come.Nosuchmodesty.Surelyyoudrewthiswithsomepurposeinmind.”Heheldthedrawing
upside-down. “Might it be you have some skill in weaponry, to compensate for your lackage of same in
linguistics…”
Theinstructorshowedthedrawingtotheclass.“Isthisamast?Toaship?”
“Yessir.The top of themast has been replacedwith a hollow tube,” said Leo, “and inside the tube are
these…here, if I might…these are spears. Weighted spears. Weighted and poisoned, with deadly Hootoo
poison,yousee,atthetips,sothatwhentheenemyramsyou,thistop-sectionfallsawayandthespearsdrop
downtoimpaletheadvancingforce.”Hestoodinhischairtopointtohisdrawing.“YoucanseeherewhereI
haveshownoneofthespearsgougingaman’seyesout—”
ThegirlsintheLatinclassgroanedwhiletheboysraisedvariousobjectionstoLeo’sdiagram,speakingin
anumberofdifferentdialectsuntiltheinstructorhushedthemallwithasternraponLeo’sdesk.
“Suchcommotionoveraridiculoussketch.Degustibusnonestdisputandum.VonMoltke,youwillbethe
lowestconscript inthePrussianarmy.Youwillwearstripesonyoursleeves.”The instructorshreddedthe
drawingandletthepiecesofpaperfallonthefloor.
“Lookaroundyou,YoungMaster,”hesaidtotheunhappyLeo.“Yourclassmates—you,allofyou—arethe
future leaders of nations. The young men and women in this room will decide the fates of hundreds of
thousandsofyoursubjectsindecadestocome.Willyoubethebuttoftheirjokes,vonMoltke?Willyoube
designingpoisoned-tippedspears while SultanMahmet here is leading theOttoman fleet, andClotilde is
bringingMoscowintoanewgoldenage?”
“Oh,that’sallright,”offeredLeo,“Mahmetwouldneverinvademe.Hestillowesmemoneyfromcards—”
Theclasslaughed.
“Well,thatisgoodtoknow.”MonsieurRaynalremovedhisspectacles.“OttomanTurkeywillneverinvade
Prussia. As youmay guess from your geography class, thatwas not themostworrisome of international
scenarios.”
Herubbedhisgray-hairedtempleswearily.
“Youallhavepotential,”hetoldhisclass.“Nowyoumustfulfillit.Youhavebeengivenarareopportunity:
tolearnhowtorule.Youarenothereforyourselves.Ifyoucannottakeadvantageofit,thenalliswasted.
Poureddowntheguttersofhistory.Anditisyourpeoplewhowillpaytheprice.”
“Ourpeople,”cameavoicefromthebackrow.ItwasGilbertduMotier.
“Ourpeoplewouldbebetterservedwithoutus.”
This single sentence, unexpected and deeply-felt, so unnerved the instructor that it hung in the air,
unanswered, whileMaster Raynal paced, and arranged the papers on his desk, and at length asked the
Duchessd’Ayen-Noialles,justturnedthirteen,toleadtheminarecitationoftheninerulesofwar,inLatin,
whilehelefttheclassroomtocollecthimself.
In the stables, seeing Clotilde struggle to lift the barrow high enough to dump the grain into the feed
troughs,Mahmetdroppedhisbroomtocometoheraid.
“Ican’tstandthis,”saidMahmetwithadepthoffeeling.
“What?”askedLeo.“Cleaningthebarn?”
“Physicallaborofanykind,”repliedtheOttomanPrince.“Look,I’msweating—”
“Laborisnolongertobelookeddownupon,”quotedGilbertcynically.“Itisthefulcrumtoabetterworld.
SosaytheColonials.”
“Butallwedohereiswork,”continuedMahmet,bitterly,asifhecouldnotstopnowthatthevalveswere
open,“workandstudy—it’sajoke—”
“Ienjoyalltheweapons,”saidI.“AndIlearnedthatlegsweepfromMeiYing.”
Now,asMahmetliftedthebarrow,itswervedonitsunsteadywheeledaxis.Itpitchedandclatteredtothe
ground,scatteringallthegrain.Inhishastetosweepupthegrain,theyoungOttoman’sbroomhandlehit
thestall’spartitionbehindhim,causingtheentirerackofmetalbridlestoclatternoisilytothestonefloor.
“Gracefullydone,OSultan,”saidLeo,whohadbeenwatching,andthenheaddedaLatinwitticism(ashe
hadheardtheprefectsdo):
“Factumnonverbum.”
“Doyouevenknowwhatthatmeans?”askedanirritatedMahmet.
“Yes.ItisaRomanadageconcerningfatpeopletryingtohidetheirclumsymistakes.”
“No.Youjustsaid,‘Deedsoverwords.’Itmakesnosense.”
“Well,peasantswon’tknowwhatI’msaying,willthey?,soitshouldsoundmostimpressivetothemwhenI
amMinister—”
“You’rethepeasant,”saidMahmet.“Youdon’tknowthefirstthingabout—aboutanything—”
“Takethatback,Turkishslug—ugh!There!Letthatshowyou—”
LeoandMahmetsettosword-fightingwiththeirbrooms,withmejoiningin,andMahmoudnarratingin
rapid-fireAnatoleTurk.Themonkeysgatheredtowatch,unsureifthisfraternalcombatwasinearnest.
Gilbertrappedhisawlonthewoodentopofthetackchesttoremindudofworkundone.
Thestudentsreturnedtotheirwork.MasterFrestelwouldbetheretoinspectthestablesinlessthanan
hour,andhewoulduseawhitegloveifhesuspectedtheyhadslackedoff.
Mahmetcomplainedthathehadaheadache.Leosaidhewasthirsty,andthatitmustalmostbelunchtime.
“Icanstay,”saidI.“Icanfinish,”
Iwas humming a passage fromBach and sweeping the hay into neat geometrical patternswhen I felt a
suddenblowtomystomach.
What—?
Thepainwasunbearable.Idoubledoverandfelltothefloor.
Who—?
Ifeltstronghandspickmeup.
“Please!”Iutteredweakly.“Pleasedon’t—”
Iwasdropped—hard—onmyback.
Ifeltsomethingbeingstrappedtomewithabelt.Itsmelledoffat.
Irolledoverandfoundhimselfinthepigpen.
Thepigswereallcomingtowardsme.
Aslabofsuethadbeenstrappedtomychest.
“No!”Icried.“Stop!”
Thepigsweretearingmeapart intheirfrenzytogetit.Themonkeyscalledouttome,urgingmetodo
something.
“Fightback,”cameavoice.“They’llkillyou.”
Throughtears,Isawthegateopen.
Ahugebrownboarentered,differentfromtherest—ahuge,wild-eyedbeastwithsharptusks.Theother
pigsignoredthis,gruntingandslammingtheirsnoutsatpoorme,knockingmedowneachtimeIstood.My
cleantrousersandshirtwerealreadycoveredinmudandfilth.
“Fightback,youngman.Thereisnoquartergiven.”
Theboarsawme.Itsmelledthesuet.Thebeastrushedforward
Ibeggedformercy.
“I’lllethimkillyou.”
Ilungedfortheroundmetallidofthehorse-feedbucket.
Usingitasashield,Islammeditagainsttheboar.Thebarnmonkeys,whofearallviolence,explodedin
protest.Againandagain,Ismashedoutoneveryside;onceIslippedinthemuckandtheyalmostgottome.
Withalowroar,Iraisedmyself,andstruckoutsavagelyuntilIhadmaderoomenoughtodiveunderthe
pen’swoodenfence.
Itorethesuetvestfrommeandtosseditintothepen.
IscreamedatmybestialtormentorsinDutch,usingwordsandavoiceIdidnotknowwereinme.
Thewildboarlookedatme.Heblinked.
“Courageisthemasterofallvirtues,”saidMasterDubin.“Withoutit,nothingelsematters.
Themonkeyschatteredamongstthemselves,aboveme.
“Fendforyourself,Will.”
6
THETHIRDRULEOFWAR
Onlyslowlydidmenappreciatethesignificanceofmeasurableregularitiesintheweather,
cropyieldsandinfections.—NiallFerguson
“From your readings,” asked Master Frestel, a young, ill-tempered and powerfully-framed instructor of
mysteriousorigins,“canyoutellmewhichruleofwarismostusefultous,asweattempttoexplainwhat
happenedattheBattleofHadrianopolis?”
Muterowsofstudentskepttheirgazesdownward,fiddlingwiththeirpencils.
“Come.Whocantellme?”Frestelglaredattheclass.“Youhadbetterknowthis.”
“Um…thethirdrule,”volunteeredVeeversuncertainly.
“Andwhatisthethirdruleofwar?”
“Force.Sufficientforce.Alwayshavesufficientforcetoattainyourmission.”
“Andwhyisthatapplicablehere?”
“Valenswasimpatient,”saidVeevers,wishingnowthathehadnotspokenup.
“Yes.Diana,canyouexplainwhatVeeversmeansby‘impatient’...”
“Yessir. The Goth commanders, Alethesius and Sarphax, had assembled ten thousand troops along the
Rhine.WhentheRomangeneral,Gratian,lefttofightinaPannonia,theGothsattackedatNicopolis,moving
across theRhine. Richomeres sent a letter to Valens, asking Valens towait forGratian to return. Valens
rashlydecidedhewouldratherfightnowwithasmallerarmythantowaitforreinforcements.Thatwashis
mistake.”
“Yes. Valens did not have sufficient force to accomplish hismission.Hewas doomed right there.What
happenednext,Mahmoud?”
Mahmet had a perfect memory, so the masters often called on him when they needed a long passage
recited.TheywerenotalwayssuretheyoungOttomanPrinceunderstoodwhathewasreciting,butstill,it
keptthelessonsmovingalong.
“Valens arrived to find the main Gothic camp,” said Mahmet, “a circular encampment with carts and
wagonsactingasapalisade.SeeingthatthemainGothiccavalrywasnotpresent,headvanced.Thatwasa
bigmistake, for theGoths’ cavalrywasnearby, andwhen they returned, theRoman light cavalrywasno
match. Seeing this, the barbarian host abandoned their defenses and attacked. Romans and their horses
weresweptoffthebattlefield.Withoutthesupportofthecavalry,theRomaninfantrycollapsed.TheRomans
were crammed together so tightly that a soldier couldnot drawhis sword.Themassacre continueduntil
nightfall.Fortythousanddead.ItwastheworstRomanlossinfourcenturies.”
“Whatisapalisade?”askedtheyoungerDelftbrother.
“Donotspeakoutofturninmyclass,”MasterFrestelsaidsharply.“Iwon’ttellyouagain.Leo,whatisa
secondlessonwecangainfromthisbattle?”
“TheGothswantedtheriver,”saidLeo.
“Yes.It’salmostalwaysariver,isn’tit?Justlookatthemap.TheRomansmayhaveactedasiftheycared
more about the fight inPannonia—butwhat they actually covetedwas thewaterway.Control of the river
gavethemunfetteredaccesstotheirsupplies,anddeniedtheenemyallhis.Gilbert,whatsindidtheRoman
generalcommit?”
Gilbertfidgeteduncomfortably.
“Youdidn’tbothertoreadtheassignment,Gilbert?”
Gilbertstaredintentlyathisdesktop.
“Youhavemorepressingbusiness,eh?”goadedFrestel.
“Whocares?”askedGilbertabruptly.“Thisisall—urk—”
FrestelhadclampedhishandaroundGilbert’sthroatandliftedhimcleanlyfromhisseat.
Theclasssatinwide-eyedsilenceasMasterFrestelpinnedGilbert—theoldestandmostrespectedamong
us—againstthewall
“Icare.YoudoasIsay.ExactlyasIsay.”
Gilbert’seyeshadgrownwide.Hetrieddesperatelytoremovethechoke-holdbutcouldnot.
“Yourotherinstructorsmayletthesecleverremarkspass,boy,butIwillnot.”
Gilbert’sfeetdangledoffthefloor.Hetriedtoclawattheinstructor,whoonlytightenedhishold.
“Lifeisfarharsherthanyoucanpresentlyimagine,youngdragoon.”
Gilbertflailed,tryingtospeak.ClotildecriedoutforMasterFresteltostop.
“Answerme.”
A body flew at the prefect, but Master Frestel had seen it coming and braced himself: Mahmet, the
OttomanPrince,hadrushedtohisfriend’said,onlytobounceofftheinstructorandlandinaheap.
“Letgoofhim,”snarledMahmet,fromthefloor.
Hewasnowbleedingatthemouth.YetmyTurkishfriendstood,leaninghisconsiderablebulkagainstthe
wall,tryingtohidethetremblinginhislegs.
“Youmaynotbeanentirelylostcause,”saidFresteltoMahmet.
“You may be,” he commented to the unhappy Gilbert as he released him and watched as the young
Frenchmanslumptothefloor.
“Britonsaregardeners,”saidMeiYing,readingfromthejournalshewascopying.“Americansarefarmers.
Americansareseedcollectors.Americansarebotanists.
“They see economic independence in a crop field. A soldier’s wife who spent a fortnight atMonticello
recalls endless vegetable terraces and red soil. ‘Beauty and utility,’ was Jefferson’s motto. ‘Beauty and
utility.’
“Theseare fromBertram.”Shepouredapacketofseeds into thepalmofherhand.Clotildestrainedto
see.
“Hesaystheseareanewspeciesofchickpea.Hesaystheypromiseanewworld.Politicalfreedom.”
“Healwayssaysthat,”commentedGilbert.
Iinterruptedtherecitation.
I stoodand turned to lookdirectlyat theFinnishcaretaker Jalmari, shewhoassembledour foldersand
oversawourtranscriptions,andwhonolongerintimidatedme,nowthatIunderstoodalittle.
“Youarecross-assigningus.Youaregivinguseachareadingthatanotherofuswouldcherish,”Itoldher.
“Venetianbankingpracticesareactuallyintendedforme,battletacticsforLeo,botanyforClotilde—
“Andall of this,” I continued, “all of this—data, all of thiswisdom, all of thesenumbersandcharts and
measurements—allofthesephenomenamoveincycles.Theyspelloutanunderlyingcode.Itisthatcodewe
want.Itisunderstandingthatcodewhichwillhelpourpeople.”
Jalmariwatchedme,asourfamilycatoftendid,withoutacknowledgement,asonlyamovingelement in
herlandscape.
Thatnight,afirstdraftofthegreatAlmanacwasleftonmybed.
7
ANENEMYVISITS
AfterBunkerHill,landedgentryeverywherebegantoglancenervouslyattheirhouse-servants.Alreadyoutnumbered,theywerenowbeingout-theorized.Anyideaunderpinningarulingclasswasfastcrumbling.
—SaulDubinsky,ABriefHistoryofBotany
Thelordoftheneighboringestate,Pierre-AndreCoffinhal,broughthissonwithhimwhenhevisitedNidde
Corbeautoretrievehistwooxen.Coffinhallwasatawny,tousle-hairedman;thesonworeahunter’sjacket,
beltedatthewaist.
TheoxenhadwanderedtoofarandgottentrappedinthemudoftheAuvergnestream,whichmarkedthe
borderbetweenthetwoproperties.
Mahmetledthevisitorsintothedininghall.
“Youhavemeatadisadvantage,”saidCoffinhall,motioningtothetables.
“Speakfreely,”saidDubin.“Iwantthemtohear.Theyneedtorecognizeaveiledthreat.”
“Talkyouofthreats,whenIonlycomeofferingthanks,neighbor,”saidCoffinhal,alarge,athletic-looking
man,ashelookedaroundtheroom,smiling.
HepresentedDubin’swifewithabasketoffruits.
“Anofferingforyourtroubles.Youhavesavedtwoofmybestoxen.”
“Howkindofyou,”saidDubin.“WhatnewsofD’Aguessau,andtheprogressoftheAbolitions?”
“TheysaythenewentailswillpasstheAssemblynextSpring,”repliedLordCoffinhall.
“Ourregionismostblessed,”hecontinued,forhehadmorethanoxenonhismind.“Wehavebeenspared
theravagesofthewarswhichhavedamagedCercysodeeply,andAlsace,andMontpelier.
“Theforcesofrebellionanddisquiethaveoverlookedourlittleregion.Thecrownenjoysthefruitofour
lands.TheParismarketsarefilledwithourcheesesandcharredmeats.
“Letusbewareofimportingtrouble,”saidLordCoffinhall.
“You mean me importing trouble,” remarked Dubin. “From the Decembrists and Tongs and occasional
Spaniardswhostalkmystudents.Andwellyoumight,fortheyarebloodthirsty.
“Yet, they come here to settle scores with us, and us alone. As it has been these many years. Our
adversariesbringnoharm,eithertoyouroxenortoourfaircountryside.Tothecontrary—NiddeCorbeau’s
commerceraisesupalltheestatesoftheAuvergne.
“Youhavenothingtofear.”
“Backing rebels, whether here or abroad, is a dangerous business,” replied Coffinhall. “Young royals
shouldexpectconsequences.”
“Consequences?”askedDubin,notatallcasually.
LordCoffinhallshrugged.
“The loss of title,” he offered. “Derogeance,” he added, looking inGilbert’s direction, for noble rank is
forfeitable.
“Thewrathofempires,”headded,withanodtoMeiYing.“OrEmperors,whogenerallyhavelittleusefor
theentitlementofpeasants…”
MeiYingrosefromherseat,butherunclebadeherstaystill.
“ComeNeighbor,letusretrieveyouroxen,”saidDubin.“TheyhavebeenspoiledbyourRussianresident.
Youmightknowherenemies,theDashkovas—”
“Onlythroughcorrespondence,”repliedCoffinhallagreeably.
Clotilde’shandgrippedherspoonuntilitseemeditwouldbend.
“Andherearetwobasketsofbeets,freshfromoureasternfields,”Dubinhandedthemtotheson.“Your
motheraskedafterthe—”
“GiveourbesttoSenorSaenz,”saidDubintotheson.
CoffinhalltheYoungerglanceddirectlyatmeatthementionofthatname,andachillwentthroughme.
“I hear theWinter inCadiz brought toomuch snow,” chattedDubin. “Perhaps he has sent some of his
HungarianstoFrance,forourmildweather.”
Wetrundledthroughtheorchards,andacrossthestream,tothequarries,onthenorthernmostfrontierof
theNiddeCorbeaucompound.JiayiMeiLingneedediron-workforherplumbingproject,andthequarrymen
hadablacksmith.MahmoudandLeoand Iaccompaniedher.ClotildewalkedbesideherponyTessa,who
carriedinhersaddlescheesesandgrapes,ciderandsprucebeer—giftsforthesmithies.
WeemergedfromtheorchardsandsawagroupofCoffinhall’smen,theyoungHungarians,justacrossthe
quarry.Theylookedupatusandsmirked,asapackofwolvesmightdowhentheytakenoteofrabbits.One
ofthemcalledoutthatwewouldmeetsoon.
JiayiMeiLingpretendedtotakeanarrowfromaninvisiblequiveronherback,notchitinabow,andfireit
atthem.Thepengyoumadethemselvesvisible—justforamoment—startlingtheHungarians.
8
WITCHES’CHANTS
Iintendtogoinharm’sway.—JohnPaulJones
Wewereswimminginthemillpond,beneaththemillwheelwhenClotilde’sskirtsgotcaught.
Theoriginalmillattheschoolhadbeenexpandedtoaddstables.Oakenpoststhreefeetindiameterhad
been buried to support a heavy roof over a row of stalls, several of them triple-height (for the giraffes).
Fenceshadbeenconstructedbetweenthelivestockandthecogwheelssotheircuriositycouldnotleadthem
to get caught in the great axle, or iron spindle, or the gearing. A Flemish braking system controlled the
wheel’sspeed,acurvedbandofwoodwithheavyhorizontalbeamshingedtothewall.Witheachturnofthe
millwheel,abrakeleverliftedfreeofitscatch,allowingtheflowofwaterbetweenthestanchions.
Afavoritegameamongtheolderstudentswastodivebeneaththemillwheel,whichwashadbeeninthe
built in theFrenchmedievalstyle,embedded in thestonewallof themill,half-insideandhalfoutside;so
thatacleverswimmercouldfivein,gounderthewheelasitspun,grabtightholdofashelf,andrisewithit
ontheotherside.
ClotildehadbeenflirtingwithGilbertandhadnotpaidattentiontotheflowofwater.Shemisjudgedits
speed,andwhenshedoveinandsankoutofsight,therewasnocorrespondingshoutfromtheotherside.
Ittookamomentforthisregister.
Mahmoudnoticeditfirst.Hecriedouthername.Ontheinstant,followingtheurgencyinMahmoud’scry,
GilbertandLeodovein.Mahmoud(slower,forhisgirth)andMeiYingandIalldoveintosaveClotilde.
Gilbertemergedwiththehalf-drownedprincess.Helayherdownonthehayofthemillfloor.Theykneeled
aroundher,watchingherdripping,coughingformassheregainedherbreathing.
Iprayed.
Mahmoudemergedfromwithinthemill.Unexpectedly,hehadgoneclearunderthemillwheelandintothe
building.
Latethatnight,wecrouchedinthegardenrows,inthecreakingsouthwindmill’sshadow,underthebright
moonlight.
“Whatarewedoinghere?”hissedLeo,whohadonlyfollowedtheothersoutofhabit.
“Thedeeratesixtyheadofcabbagelastnight,”repliedClotilde.“Theymustberemindedwhoownsthis
garden.”
“Isn’tthiswhatthedogsarefor?”askedGilbert.
“Whydon’twejustkillthem?”askedLeo.
“Don’tbestupid,”saidClotilde.“Withoutthedeer,wewouldbeoverrunwith—”
“GodinHeaven!”Gilbertletlooseastringofcurses.“Whocouldcareaboutthedamncabbagesbutyou?”
“Gobacktobed,chasseur,”saidClotilde.
“If you don’t know the grains,” she chided, “you don’t know anything. That’s what Jefferson says. The
Colonialleadersyouadmiresomuchareallfarmers.Gardeners.”
Gilbertsnorted.
“This is why the peasants—sorry, sorry—this is why our colleagues—love you so much, Clotilde,” said
Mahmet.
Severalsetsofglowingeyesbecamevisibleinthemoon-shadowsbeneaththenearbystandoftrees.Our
enemies,thedeer,stoodattheedgeoftherows,justunderthealders,watchingthisunusualnightscene.
“Theretheyare!Sortez!Sortez-vous!Allez-vous!”
Clotildethrewaclodofdirtatthedeer.
“J’enaimarre!”shecalledout,makingitpersonal.“Tumefatigues!”
Shestoodandrecited,withgestures,theentirewitches’chantsfromthefourthsceneofMacbeth,firstin
French, then inRussian. But itwas not until herRussian rendition of the versewith the ravin’d salt-sea
sharksandbaboons’bloodthatthedeerseemedtrulyconcerned,andboltedaway.
“Huh!”calledtheRussianprincess.“Comebacktomorrownightformore,ublyudki—”
9
SCHOOLLIFE
TheWarofIndependencegrewtobeaworldwar,withmenfightingfromFloridatoCanada,fromtheCaribbeantoAfricatoIndia,andacrossbroadreachesofhighseas.
—JonMeacham
“Thereisatradition,inMedievalliterature,”saidMasterFrestel,“oftragiclove.
“Courtlylove.Amanfallshopelesslyinlovewithawomanwhoisalreadytaken.Shecanneverbehis.
“Thewomanisimpossiblydesirable,”Frestelcontinued.“Theman,thesuitorproveshisworthinesswith
actsofbraveryanddevotion.Yetthisloveisdoomed.Allknowitbuthe.
“Howbeautifulitistolosethatwhichyouseekmost.”
“ThatistheAmericans,”concludedFrestel.“Unfortunately.
“TheBostoniansaremost eloquent in the causeof freedom.Most ardent. Listen to theirwritings, read
aloud.
“Buttheycannotsustain.Notinthisharshworld.
“Theywillbepulverizedintheimperialthresher.”
“I don’t actually understand this democracy talk,” admitted Leo late one night, as we lay in our beds,
countingstarsthroughtheskylight.
“Colonials.America.Whatdoesitallmatter?”
“Well,itismostlyaboutpeasants,”answeredMahmet.“Theirfreedom.”
“Butanypeasantisfreetosimplymovetoanothertown.Ishenot?”saidLeo.Thegleamingstarsdelivered
alayeroflightinthebedchamber.“Apeasantcanchangejobs.”
“No,saidI.“Amerchantcan.Amerchantisn’tthesameasapeasant.Atradesmancanmove,andmake
variouslivings.Hecannotownland,though,somaybeheisasortofhalf-peasant.Hecouldownaship,”he
added,thoughtfully.“Asmallone.”
“IsMasterDubinapeasant,then?”
“No,”saidMahmet.“Heismoreofascholar.Orapriest,orasoldier.Theyaremoreorlessoutsideclass
lines.
“Captains and generals are certainly not peasants. Infantry are. The family that sharecrops, and eats
weeds—thosearepeasants.”
“Well,”saidI,“Isometimesthink it isallmeanttobethisway. Isn’t this thedesign?Imean,dowenot
eachhaveaparttoplay?”
“Ifwedoorifwedon’t,don’tletClotildehearyousaythat,”saidLeo.
“OrGilbert,”addedMahmet.“He’sevenworse.”
“Iwanttobeacolonial,”Isaid.
“I don’t,” said Leo. “I just want to enlist. I’m not as smart as you two. I can’t learn all this banking.
Astronomy.Diplomacy.Languagesandall.”
“You’regoodatnumbers,”offeredMahmet.
“Soldiering,”saidLeo.“MaybeI’mgoodatthat.”
“Imisshome,”saidI.
“Gilberttoldmeheisleavingsoon,”saidLeo.“Tojoinhiscousin.TofightwiththeAmericans.”
“Hisfamilywon’tlethim,”saidMahmet.“Theywilldisinherithim.”
“Hedoesn’tcare.Hehasfoundapilottotransporthim,intheSpring,”saidLeo,andweallfellasleep,all
exceptLeo,whopracticedpinfingerandbishoponthefloorboardswiththeTurkishstraight-bladeMahmoud
hadsoldhim.
“Decimus,”askedClotilde,“wheremightIfindNitidus?”
ShewasrespectfulenoughtousethegladiatornicknameswhichLeoandMahmoudhadgiventhemselves
thatweek.
“Nitidusisrightthere,”repliedDecimus(thatis,Leo),indicatingafortressofpillowsandblanketswhich
occupiedthefarsideofthedormitoryroom.Thestructurehadbeenarrangedtoblockoffallhumancontact.
Blanketshadbeendrapedtoactasaroof,sothatitsoccupantcouldstaresilentlyoutofthestructure’ssole
portal,whichfacethewindow.
“IshepracticingtheSultanicsignature?”askedClotilde.
“No.Heisjustinoneofhisblackmoods,”explainedDecimus(Leo).
“Oh.Canhehearme?”
“Idon’tseewhynot.”
“Nitidus,”shesaidtothewallofblanketsandpillows,“Iwonderedifyoumightconsidertutoringmeand
Gilbert.It istheBattleofLutzen.GilbertisconvincedthatAdolphuswasleadingtheHolyRomanEmpire,
andIamquitesureitisWallenstein.I’mafraidwearehopelesslylost.”
Therewasalongsilence.
“IsupposeIcould,”cameavoice,somewhatmuffledbutnonethelessdistinct.
“Firstofall,noneoftheGermanstateshasanycolonies—”statedMahmoudoneevening,inourquarters,in
theunendingargumentoverwhichculturewouldruletheworld.
“That’snottrue!BrandenburghasFreiderichburg,”counteredLeo.
“—IfyouthinkthatasinglelittleoutpostontheGoldCoastcounts—”saidMahmet.
“AsmuchasBatavia—”
“Andsecondly,”continuedtheTurk,“youareallterriblesailors,withnonavytospeakof—”
“Let’splayaknifegame,”suggestedMeiYing,sickoflisteningtothisagain.
“Mumblety-peg!”criedLeo.“Brilliant!”
Shebroughtoutapen-knife.Thatis,itlookedatfirstlikeapen-knife,butwhenwesawitsfulllength,it
wasamoreseriousblade.
“Come,OttomanPrince—”
ShereachedforMahmet’shand.
“You.You’llbefirst—”
Gilbertblockedher.
JiaiyiMeiYing,perhapsnotsowell-namednow,lookedupandsmiled.
SheadvancedtowardsGilbert,hereyesshining—
“Come,prettyboy—”
Thethreepengyousuddenlyappeared.
TheysurroundedMeiYing.Therefollowedafuriousrushofmovementandmuffledblowsanddeepgrunts.
Thentheyweregone.
10
ALETTERARRIVES
Welittleknowhowmuchoftheuncontrollablethereisinus.
—JohnMuir
Aletterarrived.
ItwasforGilbert.Themarkingsonthewell-weatheredenvelopesaidthatitcamefromAmerica
Gilbertopenedit.
ApairofAfricanpeacocksdodgedtheglancingrubberballswhichcaromedoffthestonewalls,tryingto
preservesomemeasureofdignityastheysaunteredthroughthecourtyardwherethestudentssatwaiting
fordinner.
The noisy young Spanish cousins, Dukes of the Catalan provinces, wearing big padded gloves on their
hands, chased loudlyafter theballs,which landedwitha splash in the fountain.LeoandMahmoudwere
playingcards.
“Readit,Gilbert,”saidClotilde,butGilbertrefused.Shetookit.
“It’sfromBoston,”shesaid.“FromGilbert’scousin,Joincare—seethemudstainsontheenvelope,itmust
havecomedirectlyfromthebattlefield!”Shereadtheletteraloud.Hereiswhatitsaid,inpart:
Yesterday Iwatched a fellow soldier amputate his own infected foot. Todaywe spent ourmorning
rootingformushrooms,andthisafternoonIsetoutonanexpeditionwithCaptainParminter,tothe
HudsonValley.Itisfivedays’journey,andwehavefewprovisions.YetIfeelclosertomytrueheart
here,amongthesedesperateprivationsandtheseplainmen,thanIeverdidinthecushionedparlors
ofEurope.Godblessesourcause,Cousin.Iknowwewilltriumph—
Asuddenfuriousthrashingoverheadsilencedthecourtyard.
Alltheyoungnobleslookedupwards.
Ahawkhadlauncheditselfatthepeacocks,onlytobecomeensnaredinthenettingwhichprotectedthe
courtyardaviary.Theycouldseethehawkblazingeyes,almostcloseenoughtotouch:thiswasnoheraldic
symbol, no cooing pet, but a bird of prey whose razor-sharp claws gave clear proof of its deadly intent
towardsthepeacocks.Thehawkhadswoopedinonthestruttinggroundbirds,onlytobecomeentangledin
awebitdidnotseeorunderstand.Thewildbirdthrashedfuriously,hissingandspittingatitswould-beprey.
Servantsclimbedoverthenetting.Withsomeeffort,thehawkwouldbecollectedandremoved.
Thehandballgameresumed.ThedulcimercounterpointsofBachagainfilledthecourtyard.
Mahmetlaydownhiscards.Leoprotested,invividTeutonicphrases.Mahmetchuckledandcollectedthe
coinsonthetable.
“Itiswewhoarethepeacocks,”announcedGilbertwithafinedisgust,tonooneinparticular.“Mycousin
isright.Iwouldratherdiefightinghonorablythantoliveaswedo:petsinthissilkencage.”
Herosefromhisseatandwalkedoff.
Thecommenthungintheair.
Bellsrang.Dinnerwasserved.
Inthenettingabove,thefalconersfreedthehawk.
Thepeacockscameoutofhiding.
“I’vegot togohome,”wasallLeosaidwhenMahmoudandIreturnedtoourroomsandsawthathehad
packedallhisbelongings.
Wecouldn’tmakesenseofit,soweranandgotClotilde.
ShesatontheedgeofmybedandreadtheletterLeohadreceivedfromhissister.
“Theirfatherhasdied,”sheannounced.“Hisdrinking.”
Shefoldedtheletterandputitbackintheenvelope.
“ThesisterhasagreedtomarryLucien—”
“Sheneedsme—”saidLeo,withurgency.Weallknewhowmuchhecaredforhiseldersister.
“You’rebeinguseless,Leo”saidClotildesharply.“Isthatwhatyouwant?”
“Youneedsolutionstotheseproblems.”
Sheheldtheenvelopeandshookitathim,challenginghim.
“That’swhatwillhelpyoursister.”
Wesetitallout,lateintothenight.ClotildehadafriendinLeidenwhomshethoughtmighthelp.Mahmet
mappedoutaschemethatappearedtohavesomemerit.
Ihadanidea.
11
NIGHTAMONGTHECABBAGES(Part2)
Everynowandthenatriggerhastobepulled.—RobertWade
“Notthecabbagesagain,”moanedGilbert.
“Carrotsthistime,”commentedMahmoud,aswealltraipsedouttokeepClotildecompanyinthegardens.
Thenightwascool.
“Thisisbetterthansleeping,”saidMeiYing,whohadreturnedfromherenforcedbreak(orwalkabout,as
NuiLongBohadcalledit).
Wewalkedthroughtheorchardinsilence.Whenweemergedintotheopengardens,thestarswereclear
andbrightabove.
“Whatisyourwarname?”MahmoudaskedClotildeaswewalked.
“’Yennenga,’Isuppose,”shereplied.
“That’saterriblewarname!”Leowasgenuinelydisappointed.“Thatwillneverdo.”
“HowaboutTamar?”Isuggested.
“HowaboutSayyida?”suggestedMahmet.
“No,”saidLeo.“CiaDegli.”
Inthemoonlight,intheopenrealmsofnight,itseemedlikeafitname.Leowasmasterofsuchthings.
“CiaDegli!Good!”declaredClotilide. “I never liked ‘Clotilde’ anyway.Thiswill strike fearwhen I fight
besidetheColonials—”
“IwillbeaColonial,too,”saidI.
“IamalreadyaColonial,”saidJiayiMeiYing.
“IamaColonial,”saidMahmet.
“No,you’renot!”saidLeo.“You’reafatTurkish—”
“Ssshhh,”hissedClotilde.“You’llscarethedeer—
“Isn’tthatthewholepoint?”askedGilbert
We found thecarrot rows.We tookourstations.MeiYingpointed toconstellations,and told thestories
behindherpeople’sversionsofthestars.
Icaughttheglintofwatchingeyes.Therewasarustleinthestandoftreesborderingthegardens—
“Thosearenodeer!”saidI—
AsIspoke,agunroaredandabulletwhistledpastmyhead.
“Letgoofme!”Clotildescreamed—
Isawseveralfiguresdescendonher,cuttingherofffromtherestofus.Bulletswerestillflying—
IrolledoverinthegardenbedandcameupwiththeknifeMeiYinghadgivenmeinmyhand.
Iflungitlow,atthegroupofinvaders,totheleftofwhereIcouldseemyfriendClotilde—-
Thebladefounditsmark;Iheardapainedgrunt.
Clotildefreedherself—
Thethreepengyoudroppedasiffromtheskytoprotectherfromthemonarchists’pursuit.
“Tothebarn!”calledGilbert.
Leofiredhispistol—
Weretreated—
Weranacrossthefields.MasterFrestelhadpracticedusinthis,sowefellintofamiliarpatterns…
Wecrossedthebridgeoverthestream.
Leocaughtabladewithahandhehadwrappedincloth,andyankedtheswordaway—themarauderfell
backwardsintothestream.
AsecondfollowedhimintothewaterasMeiYingflunghimoffherbackandovertherailing—
LeoandGilberttookupthemusketshiddenunderthebridgeandfiredonourpursuers,slowingthem.
Ifoundtwodaggerscachedthere—
Goatsandchickensandsleepycattlescatteredatthemelee.
Anewbandofmonarchistscameatusfromthewoods.Weheardtheclicksandwhistlesofthepengyou,
andheardthesoundsoftheirfuriousswordfightingintheunderbrush.
TheinvaderskepttryingtoswarmClotilde,thenGilbert—
A swordsman joined our ranks andbeat back a trio of attackers.We saw thewhite ofMasterFrestel’s
smileflashinginthemoonlight.
“Fire!”
The wind shifted and we could hear in the distance a panic among the horses, accompanied by pigs
squealingandmonkeyschattering.
“Fireinthebarn—”ItwasMasterDubin’svoice.
With renewed energy, we fell on our attackers. There were over a dozen of them—they should have
broughtthirty—andintheirdesperation,theynowbeganshootingwildly.
Thatwasamistake.
Thepengyouappliedtheirskillsinearnestnow.
MasterDubinarrivedwithNuiLongBoandahalf-dozenofourworkers,all armedwithguns.The tide
quicklyturned:themonarchists,disorganizednowthattheirinitialrushhadfailed,didnotseemtohavea
plan.Somanygunsusedagainstthemwithdeadlyforceseemedtosurprisethem.
Frestelkilledtheirofficer,oneofthehorsemenwehadencounteredinthevillagesquare.
Bodiesfell.
Oneofthemonarchiststurnedandfled.Hebeckonedtheothers.
Goldenflameslitupasectionofthenight.
“Doaswehavepracticed—”calledFrestel.
“MeiYing!”criedClotilde,besetbymonarchists—
“GetTessa—”
Flamespouredoutofthebarn’sloft.
MeiYingledthemare,Tessa,intothebackpaddocksandthemeadowbeyond,upwind;theotherhorses
sawfromtheirstallsandfollowed.Whenthepigssawthegeneraldirectionofthings,theypaddedquickly
after, too.Thecamelsandpeacocks,having longsincereckonedthebreezes,werewaiting, lookingon,as
werethemonkeys,whohadalreadyretreatedtothetrees.
Coffinhall’ssonheldatorchaloft.Icouldseehisfeatures,twistedinhatred.
AlastclutchofmonarchistsdescendedonClotilde.Fresteldrewagunononeofthemandhefellwitha
groan.
Leostrucktheswordfromanotherinvader’shandandendedwithhisarmtightaroundtheman’sneck;he
twistedhardandthemandropped,inert.
Buckets fromthetroughscame ina line.NuiFangBopouredbucketafterbucket intothe fire,his face
reflectingthelight—
AlastattackerleaptatFrestel.
Iflungmydaggerathimandthefigurefellhard—
Thefireabated.
Themonarchistsfled.Jalmaraappeared,draggingCoffinhalltheYounger,whohadfled.
Thepengyouappeared,Coffinhallhimselfinhand.
“Wewantedtokidnapher,”confessedCoffinhall.“Orhim.”HenoddedtowardsGilbert.
“Andtheransomwouldbethedeedtoourproperty,”saidDubin.
Themonarchistnodded.
“Marchandhasbeenkilled,”reportedMahmet,namingoneoftheworkers.
Gilbertkneeledbesidethefigurewithmystraight-bladeddaggerinhisneck.HewasaHungarian;hisface
wasfamiliar,wehadseenhimbythequarries.
“Ishedying?”Iasked.
“Aye,”answeredGilbert.
TheHungarianflayedonhisbacklikeafish,chokingforbreaththatwouldnotcome.Dubinremovedthe
blade,buttoomuchdamagehadbeendone.
Wecouldseenowthathewasnomorethanaboy.
Jaramurmuredthelastritesoverhim.
Dubinspoketohiminanotherlanguage.
Theboynodded.
“Tellmysister—”whisperedtheHungarian.“ShelivesinthevillageofSzentSkanzen—”
“Aye.Iknowoftheplace,”saidDubin.“Wewilltellheryoudiedbravely.”
Theboyseemedtorelax.Heblinkedatme.“Ihavesomecoins—she—”
MeiYingsworebitterly.
“Don’tdie.Please!”Icried.“Thisishorrible—”
EvenLeohadgoneashen-faced.
TheHungarianboyshiveredandpassedtoabetterworld.
Frestelshuttheboy’seyelids.
Slowly,hestood.HeturnedtoCoffinhall.
“Bloodhasbeenspilledtonight,”saidFrestel,inavoicesofraughtwithdeadlyemotionIdidnotrecognize
itatfirst.
“Nayige,”demandedNuiFangBo.HelookedfromCoffinhalltohisson.
“No!”screamedClotilde.GilbertandMeiYingescortedherbacktothepaddocks,soshecouldtendthe
animals.
Apengyouclutchedthefathertightlybythethroat;FangBoheldthesonwhileherepeatedthequestion.
“Whichisittobe?”translatedFrestel.
“Me,”croakedCoffinhall,whosefacehadgonewhite.
“Letmysonlive.”
ThesonbeggedformercyuntilFangBoblastedhimacrossthejaw,foritwasthesonwhohadlitthebarn
onfire.
Then,deliberateinhismovements,MasterFrestelwavedoffeveryone,eventhepengyou.
HeandFangBotookCoffinhallanddisappearedintothewoods,headednorth,towardsthequarries.
Thepengyouescortedthesonwestward,towardshishome.
We saw the three silhouettes—Nui Fang Bo, Frestel, and Coffinhall—merge with the shadows and
disappear.
12
THEPACT
Iftheremustbetrouble,letitbeinmyday,thatmychildmayhavepeace.
—ThomasPaine
Later thatsamenight,wedug theHungarian’sgraveoutbehind thebarn,onaslightbluffnear the first
rowsoftheorchard.
Thesafe,blanketingsoundofcricketshadsettledonthenight.Burblingwatersoundsofthemillstream
accompaniedtheshowofstarsabove
Weshoveledinsilence,eachconsideringtheeventsofthenight.TheMalaymonkeyswholivedinthebarn
cametowatchtheburial,alongwithacamelandasleepy-eyedgiraffe.
A tall figure appeared, carrying a lantern in one hand and a satchel over his shoulder. The monkeys
scattered.
ItwasMasterFrestel.
Helookedaroundatourwork.
“ImustsayGood-bye.”
Weblinkedthereinthestar-litmidnight,notunderstanding.
“Iamleavingtheschool.Tonight.ForBoston.
“Iwillraisemybanner,suchasitis,withtheAmericans,andaddmycolorstotheirs.Theyfightforusall.
“Iwisheachofyougoodluck.Wemaynotmeetagain.”
Iburstintotears.
“Come,Dutchman.ThisiswhatIammeantfor.Iamnoteacher.”
MasterFrestelspokeafewwordsprivatelytoeachofus.
Clotilderemovedthebluescarffromherneckandgaveittohim.
Then,withawave,MasterFrestellefttheRoyalAcademyatChavaniac,walkingfearlesslyintothemawof
night,muchasAchilleshadwalkedthatnightlongagoonthebeachesofTroy,stridingfromthecampfires
intotheshadowsoftheforcesofMenelausandAgamemnon,orsoitseemedtous.
Ihadneverfeltmorealone.
Wewatchedhimdescend thepath downalong the creek,wheremoonlight reflected, and then into the
meadows,movingamongtheshadowsofthebeasts,untilwecouldnolongermakeouthisform,untilallwe
couldseewasabobbinglight,andevenwhenthatvanished,wekeptwatching.
Tessa’sfoalstumbledoutofthebarndoortofindwhereeveryonehadgone.
Clotildewrappedthefoalinablanketandcarrieditbacktothebarn.
We finished filling thegrave.Thesoundof theshovelbladeson thedirtas theypatted itdownseemed
comforting.
“Whatdidhesaytoyou,Clotilde?”Iaskedwhenshereturned.
Theothersstoppeddiggingtolistentoherreply.
“He told me that Aunt Catherine’sMoscow court sounded to him like a treacherous place, and that I
needed to takerefuge from its intrigues.Asa librarian,oranun inanabbey.Hesaid Iwasagift to the
Russianpeople,andthatitwasuptometoprotectmyself.”
“I’mscared,”Isaid.
“Hetoldmethatwarismorethanglintingswordsandwavingbanners,”saidLeo.“HetoldmethatIwas
likehim.Hard-headed.And that suchmenaswemust take care that our volatile naturesdonot leadus
astray.”
Mahmettookadeepbreath,andshuddered.
“Hetoldmenottoworry,thatIwouldfindmyplaceintheworld,amonghonestmen”saidGilbert,ashe
staredatsomeunseenpointinthestarrydistance.
Cricketsandothernight sounds filled theyard.Thegiraffewatched,curious, crunchingonhigh-branch
leaveswithoutconviction,forhedidnotreallycaretoeatatnight.
Ourspadespattedtheearth.
Whenwehadfinishedthegrave,Clotildetookeachofusbythesleeve.
Shegatheredus,underthestars.
“Wemustmakeapact,”shesaid,hereyesglisteninginthemoonlight.
Clotildeputoutherhand.Weall did the same, and the sixofus claspedour tremblinghands together
there,overthenewgrave,overlifeanddeath,therebeneathglitteringGeminiandSagittarius,thereamong
thebarnmonkeysandthehorsesandthetoweringgiraffe.
Wetookanoath.
“Letusalwaysremembertonight.Howwefoughtforoneanother,andriskedourlives.
“Letusalwaysbehonestwithoneanother.
“Letusbandtogetherinthisregard:wewillalwaystrytodogood,andneverbeselfish.”
TearsrandownClotilde’sface,buthervoicewasclearandcertain.
“Andanyoneofuswhogetsintotrouble—realtrouble—cansendfortheothers.Theothersmustcome,at
anyexpense.
“Ifoneofuscalls,theothersmustanswer.Weeachvowit,”shesaid,withdeepestconviction,andthenshe
repeatedthistoeachinturn,andmadeeachrepeatitforourselves,andheldGilbert’sfacesoastoforce
himtolookintohereyesashesworeit.
Atthelittleceremony’send,underthestars,LeomistakenlysaidSicSemperTyrannusasasortofcodicil,
butnotevenMahmoudobjected,foritsdefianttoneseemedtosuitthemoment.
13
GRADUATION
Everythingismorebeautifulbecausewearedoomed.
—Homer
Twodayslaterweattendedthefuneralofourneighbor,LordCoffinhall,who(itwassaid)hadperishedina
quarryaccident.
Thedark,fearfullookwhichCoffinhall’ssongaveourcontingenttoldusthatariverhadbeencrossed,and
thatnoneofuswouldbethesame.
“’Icallnotuponafew,butuponall,’”quotedMasterDubinatourgraduationceremony.“’Notonthisstate
orthatstate,butoneverystate;upandhelpus;layyourshoulderstothewheel.’”
Itwasasubduedeventunderagraysky.Thatafternoon,onlytheanimalsshowedexcitement.
After each henna tattoo had been completed, the masters shook hands with us, ending with a brief
audiencewithDubin.
IntoeachofourearshewhisperedPalmamquimeruitferat,withafriendlyemphasisonthethirdword.
Uponhearingthis,Gilbertnodded;Mahmet lookedatthemasterasthoughhehadbeenaccused;Jianyi
MeiYing,quietlyfuriousthatLeo,whomsheconsideredafraud,hadbeengiventhecompasstattoo,showed
noreaction;ClotildesaidYes,shewouldtrywithallherheart.
Asforme…
ThispainfullyshyDutchboyhadbeenattackedbypigsandfiredonbyhumanhunters.Formanyyears
shunnedbyafrigidfamily,Ihadbeenwelcomedintothewarmestoffellowships.Ihadkilledaman—aboy,
myownage.Ihaddiscoveredaportaltothepast,aworldfullofhiddenpatternsandmysteries,smalland
large,humanandnatural.
WhateverIimaginedhadbeentakenaway,andwhatevershadowsIsawinmyfuture,ablazenowburned
inmyheart.
Iwouldplaymypart.
PARTTWO
Constantinople
IhaveseenthatAllahcausedthesunofempiretoshineinthemansionoftheTurks,andturnedtheheavenlyspheresaroundtheirdominion,andnamedthemTurk…andplacedthereinsofthepeopleofthetimeintheir
hands.
—SecondMilleniumscholarAl-Kashgari
14
THEFRENCHKING’SVISITOR
Whohaswrittenthisplaythatweareobligedtoperform?—EduardoGaleano
OnthegroundsofthePalaceofVersailles,heelsdugintogravel,oneafteranother.
TheKinghadavisitor.
Two men, the visitor and the King’s chamberlain, moved through the formal spaces of the Palace at
Versailles.Thepalaceandthegroundshadbeendesignedbymenoftradition-boundimagination,menlike
LeVau and LeBrun and LeNotre,menwhoworked according to rules of proportion and sobriety. They
walked through thepavedandgravel forecourts linkedbybalustrades, thenalongpedimentedentrances,
thenamongthedancingwaters,throughfinewroughtirongates,andacrossgardenssovastthatcanalsran
throughthem.
Nowtheirheelsclickedonmarblefloors.
Thevisitor,anAmerican,speakinginbarelypassableFrench,struckupconversationwithhiscompanionin
thehigh-ceilingedchambersofthegildedpast.Theemptyroomswerefurnishedinthickbrocadesofredand
gold,uprightleatherchairswithclawedfeet,heavygiltworkonplastermoldings,largesculptedsideboards,
and heavy stone-topped tables. The palace walls were decorated by a hierarchy of paintings (historical
paintings at the highest). A new hanging, a powerful depiction of CharlesMartel at the Battle of Tours,
caughtthevisitor’seye,buthedarednotlinger:thisappointmenthadbeenweeksinthemaking.
Inanarrow,mirroredhall,theypassedtwodisconsolatemenwhowerecomingtheotherway,exitingthe
King’spresence.TheyweretheKing’sMinisterofFinance,CharlesAlexanderdeCalonne,andthebanker
JacquesNecker,twomenwhospentgreatenergiesattemptingtoimpressupontheFrenchmonarchthedire
burdenof themany international loans theyhadstructured inorder tosupport thesinkingTreasury.This
effortalwaysfailed,forKingLouishadnointerestinloancollateralandratesofinterest,matterswhichhe
regardedasalmostincomprehensible,andcertainlybeyondhissphereofcontrol.
They arrived at a small, sunny chamber at the rear of the palace, overlooking the stables. It had been
convertedit intoaworkroomtosatisfytheKing’shobby,sothathemighttakesolacefromthefalsehoods
andfripperiesofthecourt,andtheheavyweightofrunningagreatempire.
“TheColonialAmbassador,BenjaminFranklin,”announcedthechamberlain.
KingLouisXIV,whosecoronationhadtakenplacelessthantwoyearsearlier,wasbusywithhisironworks.
Heandhiscompanion,anelderlylocksmith,satatabroadexpanseoftabletops—severaltables,actually,of
variouselevations—whichhelda scalemodel of the legendarily steep stonecanal atCorinth,whichNero
abandonedatthetimeoffallofRome.TherelayarunningfountaintorepresenttheblueAegeanSea,and
scale-modelbargesuponit,andwood-framedearthenberms,andblocksoflimestonetoshoreupthecanal’s
steepsides,andaportageroadalongthetopofthegrade.Highcraneswithhookedchainstoweredoverthe
Peloponnesianend.TheKinghadrecentlyheardofanironbridgebeingbuiltinShropshire,soithadpleased
himtoupgradethetime-lostcanalwithironworks:inthecanalitselfstoodironlocks,tocontroltheflowof
waterandthepassingofships,andavaultingtrellisnowspannedtheminiaturecanal,itspanelsdecorated
withintricatedesignsinthemannerofTitouandhisSpanishchurchgates.
“Anothertime—”TheKingwavedoffhisappointment.
“Hehaswaitedamonth,sire,”repliedthechamberlain,whoseemedtoexpecttheprotestandmadeno
inclinationtomove.
TheKingglancedoverandpursedhislipsandbulgedhiseyesinamockingexpressionofsurrender.He
nodded.Heshookhisforearmsandhands,asthoughheweretremblingwiththeevent’simport.
TheColonialAmbassadorFranklinstrodeforthwithenergyandpurpose.Heunrolledamaponasectionof
thetable,ignoringtoolsandblueprintspursuanttotheCorinthianCanalconstructionbeneath.
“Thank you,my liege.Here, sire, if I can just…there. You can see here the advantageous positions our
variousmilitiasnowhold.”
“IunderstandoneofyourcolonieshasalreadydeclaredindependencefromEngland,”sniffedtheKing.
“Yes.YoumeanVirginia.TheVirginiansareratherimpulsive—”
“Butifyoucannotcontrolyourownbrethren,whathopeisthereofunitinginalengthycampaigntodefeat
thefinestfightingforceintheworld?Youtakemypoint.”
“Ofcourse,ofcourseItakeyourpoint,sire,letmeshow—letmeshowyou,here,Ihaverightherearticles
ofourProvincialCongressbywhichwenowruleourselves.Ineffect,wehavealreadycastouttheBritish
apparatusofgovernment.”TheAmericanambassadorwasnervous,andhiscarefullyrehearsedarguments
spilledoutinanartlesstorrent.Franklinknockedseveraldocumentstothefloor,andattemptedtoignore
them. “These clearly demonstrate the unity which stretches all across the colonies—we are completely
unified, you can see, with your own eyes the signatures of the Virginians. And we will all be declaring
independencesoonenough—aContinentalCongresswillconvenethiscomingsummer—”
“Yes,well.It’sallverywelltodeclareindependence,”commentedtheKing.“TheBritishstillcommandeer
Boston,dotheynot?,withthirtyoftheKingGeorge’sshipsinBostonharbor.
“A lone outpost surrounded by a sea of patriot towns, sire, and plans are afoot as we speak to regain
Boston.Ourpatriotscontrol90%oftheterritories.”
TheKingperusedthemapwithoutcomment.
“Tellme,cousinFranklin.Whowillruleyournewnation?”
Franklinlookedblankforamoment.
“WhowillbeKing?Comecome,youmusthavesomeoneinmind—”
“TherewillbenoactualKing,”saidthecolonial.“Itwillbearepublic.Acommittee,ifyouwill.Ofequals.
Moredirectlytothepoint,asimpledeclarationofyourallianceisouronlychance—fightthemontwofronts
—andprovidegreatprofittoyourprivateers.Here,sire,ifIcanmanageto…unroll…yes,hereismydraftof
whatIcalltheTreatyofCommerceAndMutualDefenseAlliancebetweenourtwonations—”
“Howthoughtfulatitle,”commentedLouis.
“Ihopeso.Humbly.Mynation isentirelypreparedtosign it immediately,sire.Now, ifwemightprevail
uponHisMajestyto—
“Prevail?”
Now,forthefirsttime,theKingstoppedhisironworkingentirely,andlookedupsquarelyintothefaceof
hisvisitor.
“Prevail?Isthatthewordyouused?Isthatwhatyousaid,ordidImisapprehend?”Headjustedoneofthe
miniaturerailedcarts.Franklinstammered.
“Howextraordinary.No,youmaynotprevailuponme.NoneprevailsoverFrance.Noneprevailsoverthe
MonarchofFrance.HowcouldIallowsuchathing?”
TheresourcefulFranklin,beginningtoregainhisbearings,starteduphisargumentanew,sotheKingcut
himoff.
“Mygoodman.MyMinister ofFinancehas just spent the better part of an hour beratingmewith the
consequences of the Assembly rejecting my new taxes. It appears that, through no fault of mine, the
monarchy is burdened with various…obligations. The world is about to end, to hear him describe it. He
assuresmethatwecannotpossibly,possibly,entertaintheideaofinitiatingnewventures.Andcertainly,I
wouldplaceaGlobalWarwithEngland—whichiswhatyouareasking,fortheBritishwillopposeusnotonly
intheAtlantic,buteverywhere—inthecategoryof‘newventures.’Ihopeyouagree.
“JoiningtheAmericancauseagainstEngland,unlessanduntilthecolonialsshowthattheycanwin…isout
ofthequestion.”
Themonarchindicatedthattheinterviewhadconcluded.TheAmericanambassadorbegantoprotestbut
thought better of it, and took his leave. The clicking heels of the visitor retreated into the bowels of the
PalaceatVersailles,thosegrandsymmetricalhallswhereFrance’spastgloriesaresowellrecorded.
“Anirritatingman,”commentedKingLouisXVI.
“Doeshenottakehimselfratherseriously?”themonarchaskedhiscompanion.“A ‘TreatyofCommerce
andMutualDefenseAlliance’?Truly? ‘Mutual’? Is itmutual?Will the colonials rowacross theAtlantic in
theircanoestodefendmypalace,ormantheWestBankwiththeirflintlocksandbuckskins?Bah!”
Secretly, Louis feared that any success of the American colonials against Britain’s ruling class would
embolden theFrenchpeasantry, but hedidnotmention that particular concern.Hedidnot need to: any
reasonablemanwouldwaittoseethemettleofhisallybeforejoininginsuchawar.TheBostonianshadnot
yetproventheycouldwinagainstEngland.WhyshouldFranceriskanythingyet?Europewouldwatchthe
comingmonths’engagementsoftheAmericanrebellionwithparticularinterest.
“Theseinterruptionshavefouledmymood,”saidthemonarch.“Letusrebuildthecanalbanks,Valon,forI
havemadeahashofthefoundations.”
“Wiselyspoken,myliege,”noddedthelocksmith.“Ourprojectwillsoar,nowmorethanever.Yourhonesty
ensuresoursuccess.Ihavetheblocksrighthere.”
15
APRINCERETURNS
SothebrothersandsonsoftheSultanwerelockedawayinthehareminthepalace.Manyofthemwentmad,butmostsimplybecamefatandlazy,addictedtoalcoholandfoodandlyingabout.
—UssamaS.Makdisi
TopkapiPalace,Constantinople,September1777
Asmall,reedymanemergedbackwardsfromahiddendoorwayinthebreezypalacecorridor,draggingan
object,andbumpeddirectlyintothePrince.
“PrinceMahmoud!Isityou?”
Themanfelltohisknees,dumbfounded.
“Butyourshipisnotdueuntilthisevening—”
“Yilmaz.Itisgoodtoseeyou—”
ThePrinceknelttohelpthemanrise.
“HowcouldIknow?”Thewretchedmanremovedhisclothheadpieceandwrungitinhishands.“Iwasjust
nowmakingpreparationsforthecelebration—”
“Rise,rise,alliswell,”thePrinceassuredhim,“IaskedtheCaptaintolandatthesummergatesothatI
mightsurpriseMother—”
“Surprise! Shewill die from joy,my prince. I feel dizzymyself. You have returned, and somanly! Your
fathertheSultanisaway,visitingthenorthernprovinces—”
“Yes,yes,pleaserise,dearfriend—”
“Ah!YousoundlikeaKing,Mahmet.Yourwordsaremeasured.Yourvoicedeeper.Howyouthriveamong
theFranks!Oh,praiseAllah—youwillmakethegreatestofallCaliphs—”
Themanprostratedhimselfonthecoolmarblefloor.
Seeingthis,Mahmet’smoodtookaviolentturn.Hegrabbedtheservantbytheshouldersandshookhim.
“YOUDONOTabaseyourselflikethatforanotherhuman!”
PrinceMahmetunleashedatorrentofangryinvective—“Haverespect,man!”and“Youhavefreewill!”—
firstinTurkish,theninArabic,thenalongstretchinGerman,thencameafountainofcursesanddramatic
gestures regarding the backward customs of this accursed nation and how he himself was so utterly
misunderstood, endingwith thePrince removinghis jeweledbelt andhurling it onto thepolishedmarble
floorandstompingonitoverandover,tothemanservant’sastonishment.“Nomanisanother’sslave!Never,
never,neverdothatagain—”
Prince Mahmoud Mustafa Hasan Husameddin Cezayrili, son of the second wife of Sultan Abdulhamid,
Caliph of all Muslims, Secular Ruler of All the Ottoman Empire heir to the Ottoman throne, turned the
cornertostridedownthemarbledhallwaysofthefourthandinnermostcourtyardoftheTopkapiPalace.
Hewalkedeasily,withthecertaintyofyouth,hisflowingrobesswishingonthefloor.Helookedleftand
right as hewalked, his features registering a familiar sound or sight or fragrance. Baby fat still hid the
contoursoftheadultfeatureswhichwerejustbeginningtoemerge:theplanesofhisfacehadsettledduring
hisyearattheAcademyofAuvergne,andadifferent,morematurelookhadcomeintohiskeeneyes.Sea
breezesruffledthelongcurtainsalongthequietcorridorashepassed.
Apairofostriches,hearingthetantrum,wanderedoverfromtheadjacentgarden,andpokedtheirsnouts
throughthecurtains.
Twocatstrailedaftertheostriches.
Adogfollowedthecat.
ThedogrecognizedMahmetandbarked,jumpinguphappily.
Agirlheardthedogbarkingandcameboundingaroundthecorridor’sfarendandscreamedwithdelight
atthesightofherbrother:shewasMahmet’ssister,Julide.
More hooved and pawed members of the bestiary arrived. The Sultan’s sixth wife, Mahmet’s mother,
Bayazid,heardherdaughter’ssqueal,androundedthecorner,herattendantsclosebehind,andseeingher
belovedsonsheclaspedherhandstogetherandweptandOh,whatcommotionfollowed,withguardsofthe
janissarieslayingdowntheirswordstogreetthelaughingPrince,whilehissecondsister,Papatya,hugged
hiskneesandallthebarkingdogswaggedtheirtails.
Mahmetwashome.
Theprocessionmovedslowlythroughthetombs.
Torchescastlongandflickeringshadowsamongthevastjumbleofstrange,toweringformsastheypassed.
Thepriestchantedprayers.
“ThereisnoGodbutgod,”hesaid.
Mahmet’s secondsister,Papatya,whosemindwasslow, repeated thepriest’schants inherownbroken
litany.Thecolossaltombsabsorbedallthesesounds.
ThePrince’sancestorsneeded toseehim.Mahmudandhis familymade theirway through themassive
diversiontunnelsdugbytheRomans,deepbeneaththemosque.Theypassedgiantchipped-tilewallmosaics
ofancientByzantium,depictionsofthemanycivilizationswhichhadcontributedtothecity’shistory:Greek,
Roman,Hittite,Byzantine,Phoenician,Assyrian,andmore.Mightyrulersandmightybattlesweredepicted
there,walldrawingsof IlyasBey, rulerofHamidogullari, time-leechedpaintingsof theclashbetween the
VenetiansandtheforcesofAlexius,andthesiegeofMohammedtheConquerorbyGiustaniandhisforestof
archers. The little procession passed beneath the base of gigantic basalt statues of gods from the
Commagene,suchascanstillbeseenatNemrut.Theycouldglimpsemassivetotemsofdefeatedpeoples.
TheflickeringlightreflectedonhieroglyphsofDogubeyazit,andArarat,andthelegendaryarcoftheflood,
and representations of prehistoric forces of nature, the Yer-sub, genies and spirits dwelling in hills and
springs.
“Ourancestorswillrejoicetoseeyou,Mamhet,”whisperedJulide.“Youaresohandsomenow.”
Their mother, Bayazid, smiled and held her finger to her mouth. “Let our demeanors be correct,” she
whispered,usingthetermsahb,whichmeans“correct”butalsosomethingslightlymore:athingwhichis
sahb ismorethanmerelyright inappearance,butright in itssubstance,correct inahighersense.Agun
madeintheImperialArmorymarkedwiththewordsahb isassuredofhavingbeingconstructedcorrectly.
Bayazidwantedherson’sancestorstoseehim,andhowtallhewasgrowing,andtoapprove,andhelphim
findhisplaceintheworld,sothatallwithhiminthisrealmandthenextcouldberight.Sahb.
TheypassedthetombsofthefamilieswhohadservedtheSultansoverthecenturies:theTurkishKoprulu;
theItaliandeTestas;theGreekMavrocordatos;theHashemites,fromMecca.
“Allahuakbar,”chantedthepriest.“Godisgreat.”
Theprocessionreachedthefamilysepulchre.
Thedeadneedtoviewtheliving,fromtimetotime,tosurveytheirprogressinthenoisybrightrealm,and
toremindthemthatalltheythinkisnewhashappenedbefore.
Theystoppedandcircled,andlaydownrugs.
Mahmet read the names of his dead uncles and aunts and grandfathers and great-grandmothers. He
touchedthenamesontheirburialtombs.Scatteredaboutthedustychamberwereartifactsburiedwiththe
menandwomenofthepast:glassteardropvials,silverjewelry,bronzecrosspendants,andfibulas,Roman
oillamps,flasksofcoloredglass.
Theykneltontherugs.
“Tellusofourlives,honoredones.Ifearnotformyownfate,”thepriestsaid,“Ihavelivedtoenjoythe
sacrificesmyancestors.”Hesoughttoestablishasalaat,aconsultationwiththewisedead,areminder,a
glimpseofguidancefortheliving.
Thetorchesburned.ThegirlPapatyamimickedthepriest’sprayers.Thelivingmurmuredtotheancient
dead.Stonesymbolsofgodsfromanotherageandpaintingsofbravedeedslongburiedbytimelookedon.
Theshadowsofthetombs,darkereventhanthatwhichisneitherdaynornight,deepened.
16
MAHMET’SPIPING
Weshallseechangesthatwillsurprisetheidiotswhohavenoforesight…—GeorgeOrwell
Theservantsofthepalacemurmuredintheslantedmorninglight.
Theyclimbedthenarrowladderstotheroof-top.
Theoldman,Yilmaz,sippedfromaporcelaincupofstrongcoffee.Thissectionofthepalaceroofoverhung
theresidentialandharembath-houses,and thesedozenservantswouldspend thedayrunning toand fro
alongwell-wornpathways,heatingcauldron-fulsofwateranddeliveringitasthebathersrequired.Asthey
climbed the ladders, they could hear birds chirping in the hush that follows dawn, birds calling to their
rookeries,braggingtotheirrivals,warningtheirfoesaway,announcingthecomingday.
There,ontheslightly-crownedbutmostlyflatexpansesofroofabovethebath-house,wasPrinceMahmet.
Hewas holding a length of pipe. Princess Julidewas there, too; she held a handful of kindling, andwas
feedingafiresetinanirongrating.Behindthem,membersofthepalaceguardwerebusylayingpipealong
theraingutters.
“Ma-ma-myP-p-prince…”stammeredYilmaz.
“Youareearly,Yilmaz,”saidMahmetwithabow.“Wearenotquitedone.”
Allthecauldronshadbeengatheredfromahalf-dozenstationsaroundtheroofandplacedtogether,inthe
crowned or slightly raised section of roof. A healthy fire blazed in the iron gratings beneath this
congregation of kettles, and they could hear hot water bubbling. Large sections of wide-gauged copper
chuteshadbeenlaidfromthecrownalongtheraingutters,withnarrowerpipingleadingtothebath-pipe
stationswhichwerescatteredaroundthebroadexpanseofroof.Cordsofneatlystackedflankedthesingle
cauldron-station. They could see that a bellows had been borrowed from the forges to make the job of
stokingtheflameseasier.
“Seehow thepiping takes thehotwater toeachof the individualbaths,”explainedMahmetwith some
pride.“Now,insteadofaservantstandingovereachstation,waitingallday,youcansitinoneplace.”The
hot-watersystemhadbeenreconfigured,sothattheonecentralfirefedeachbathstall.“Youwillnotburn
your feet walking over the hot roof, or burn your hands tipping the kettles. The water arrives at its
catchmentlikeastream.See?”Heturnedaspigottooneofthelesserflumesoffandon;theycouldhearthe
swishofwaterashedidso.
“See,Ihavehiddenthepipingalongthegutters,soMothercannotcomplainthatIhaveruinedherroof-
line.”
“Itisamarvel,myPrince.”
“Youshallhaveademonstration.Papatya!”
There camea scurrying frombelow, and abell tied to a long tetherwhich snaked through the cowling
rang.
“Nono,Papatya.Runtheshower.”
Intheharembath,below,Papatyaopenedthefaucetwithametalliccrankingsound—thesignalforhot
water.Ratherruntocarryscaldingwaterinbucketsandpouritdownthedrain,orvent,intoholdingtanks,
usingragstoprotecthishandsfromthescaldingwater,Mahmetsimplyturnedthespigot.Hotwaterchased
downtheslopedroof,throughthepiping,alongthegutters,anddownthedropventatthepointofuse.
Theycouldhearthelaughteroftheconcubines.Theyheardthepatterofrunningfeet.Asecondbellrang,
andathird.Mahmetlaughed.“Theywanttotestus—”
Theyheardmorefaucetsbeingturned.Julidecircledthekettles,andturnedmoreofthespigots,andsoon
hotwaterflowedinalldirections.
Mahmetsmiledattheoldmanservant.
“Areyoupleased,Yilmaz?Doesitnotmakeyourtaskeasier?”
“Royal One, there is no limit to your wisdom.” The old man began to supplicate himself, then he
remembered,andcontentedhimselfwithadeepbow.
“Ihavestolenthedesign,Yilmaz:aChineseprincessdevisedthis,Ihavemerelyadaptedit.Iamtoostupid
toknowhowtoproperlyinsulatethepipefromthetiles,soIhavesimplyshovedmudandclayaroundthem.
Isitnotugly?Butyoudolikeit?Truly?”
ThePrincerubbedhishandsonadirtycloth.
“Itis…sahb,”pronounced theoldmanashesurveyed thenetworkofpipesandchutes,using thatword
whichmeanscorrect,butcorrectinthehighestsenseofcorrectness.
“Itisathingmostsahb.”
“Ah,” saidMahmet. “I am glad you like it. If it works, perhaps we can do the same for theMahalle,”
meaningthenearbyneighborhoodwherethemaritimeworking-classfamilieslived.
Flushedwaterpoureddownthechutesandpipeswithanamiablesploosh.
“Allahuakbar,”saidtheoldman.“Allahbepraised!”
AndherepeatedthephraseoverandoveruntilhesawthatPrinceMahmetwasabouttosaysomething.
Thentheprincethoughtbetterofit,andcrouchedonceagain,toseeifhecouldfitthepipingmoreperfectly.
17
THEBOATYARDS
TheSultansabandonedthepracticeoftrainingtheirsonstoassumetheSultanatebyhavingthemserveinthemilitary.ThisdeclineintheSultanateisregardedasoneoftheprimecausesoftheOttomanEmpire’sfall.
—UssamaS.Makdisi
Athisstoneforgeinthecenteroftheshipyard,Kace,theCossack,crashedhishammerontheanvil.
Evenasthedownwardstrikesentashowerofsparkssplaying,theman’scordedrightarmroseinaneven,
steadymovement, to falloncemore, inapersonaldisplayofcontrolledfurythatkeptupuntil thered-hot
metalhadyielded,andsurrenderedtothepreciseformheintended.OnlythendidKacelookupandnodto
theanxiousboywhostokedthebellows,indicatinghecouldslacken.Heglancedtwicealongthelengthof
sheathtoinspectitsdelicatearch,tomakessurehehadsmoothedallitsseamsanddents.Hegruntedhis
satisfaction:thecenterboardwouldholdthistime,inanywaters,foraslongastheboat’shullwasintact,
andprobablywell beyond that.Heplunged thehotmetalhissing into the caskofwaternearby.Scalding
steamshotup.
“Thenewboyishere,”shoutedoneofthecaulkers.
Kacelookedup.
Solidlymuscled,Kaceseemedaswideashewastall.Whileheworkedatatrade,andknewitwell,hewas
not a tradesman by nature; while he currently employed two dozen men in his shop, he was not a
shopkeeper:Kacewasanadventurer,oneofthathard-eyedbreedwhoseeopportunityinshiftingconditions,
andmoveconstantlytowardsthem,withoneeyealwaysonthehorizon.HehadleftYakakent,alittleporton
the Tatar coast, working on a trawler, and stayed in Constantinople because there were toomany ships
passing through the Bosporus in need of repairs, and not enough men skilled in metal, wood, and the
componenttradestorepairthem.Hescouredhullsforthefishermenatfirst,andmendedbrokenoars,then
tookonlargerjobsamongtheRussianpilots,andtheSlavs,ashisreputationforworkmanshipgrew.
Kacewasamanwhokepthisword,amanwhochargedeachclientthesamefeeforworkdone;oneof
thosemenwhoseemuchbutspeaklittle,menwhoneveraskforfavorbutoftengiveit.Youmayknowone
ortwolikehiminyourlifetime,andyoumaycountyourselfluckyifyoudo,foritisthequietmanlikeKace
whotipshumanevents,greatandsmall,forthegood.Once,hehadriddentoAnsaldoPoint,androwedout
inaskifftointerceptaPortuguesecarrackandreturnmoneywhichhadbeenoverpaidhim.Hearingofthis,
Cynthiana, theHarborMistress,hadgivenKacea second-gradeshipwright’s licenseanda favorable stall
nearthebroad-way.
“STOP!SLOWDOWN!”KacescreamedatMahmet.
BeadsofsweatdecoratedthetattooontheskinofthetopofthewristofPrinceMahmetasheworkedthe
forge.
Itwasasmallishtattoo,astattoosgo,and,seenfromadistance,oneofsimpledesign:blackoutlinesofa
lineinacircleinasquare.Ifyoulookedatitclosely,youcouldseethatthelinewasthehandleofaspoon,or
ladle.Themagentacirclefromwhichitprotrudedwasactuallytwocircles:thesmallerwastheveryshallow
bowlofthespoon,andthelargercircle,renderedinblue,representedalodestone.Therust-coloredsquare
representedabronzediviner’s board,where laydesignsof the twenty-eight lunarmansions, to catch the
castings of the handle’s shadow. The tattoo depicted aChinese compass, from the days of Juan, theHan
mathematician,and,inthewest,CatoandwiseGaiusMariusandPerseus,lastoftheMacedoniankings.All
navigatorsknewthemeaningof thepresenceof that tattoo,asdidbuccaneersofeverystripe,andship’s
officerswhosailedunderallflags,andmostofthecommonsailorsandmerchantseamen,andmanyofthose
whomadetheirlivingsinportsaswell.
“It’sTOOMUCH!”
ThemusclesbeneaththeskinoftheforearmmovedandpulsedasMahmudtriedinvaintokeepupwith
theblacksmithKace.Hewastryingtoohard,pushingthebellowstoohard,pushingtoomuchair intothe
ventslats.
“CanyounotseethecindersFLYING!”
Mahmetconcentrated,andslowedhispace.Theflamesquieted,adegreeortwo.
Kacegrunted.
“Takethetongsboy.Thereyougo.Carefulnow—”
Together,theyliftedthemetaltillersheathing:itwasasinglepieceofdelicatelycurvedmetal,almostfive
feetlong,andtheyhadbeenworkingonitallmorning.Sprucewoodwouldfitintothedozenclampswhich
Kacehad forged into the sheath, and, once assembled, no current in anybody ofwaterwouldbend that
tiller,orcompromiseitspurpose.Thehotmetalglowedredasthetwogingerlylifteditontothesidebar.
The other yard boys,many of them crude country boys from small villages in theUralMountains, still
made the broom boy (Mahmet, that is) do all the low tasks, and he was always last to eat, but no one
complainedabouthowcleanthestationswereeachmorning,orhowtheteawasalwayshot,andtheblades
alwaysfreshlysharpened.KacemadeMahmetworklongandhardateachofthestations,sohecouldlearn
everyprocessashipwrightmustknow,andlearnitintheclosedetailanapprenticelearnsit.
“No,no,no,”warnedKace,hisvoicerisingasthehotmetalsheathslipped.
“WATCHIT—”
The tiller’s lowerendslipped fromMahmoud’s tongs.Without thinking,Mahmet reachedout tograb it:
therewasaquicksizzlingsoundashishandtouchedthehotmetalandthesmellofburningflesh.Hejerked
hishandaway.KacedashedMahmoud’shandintoabucketofwaterandcalledforointment.Theshipwright
retrieved the tiller from the sandanddashed it into coldwater,deftly scraping the sandparticlesoff the
smoothsurface.HeappliedthesalvetoMahmet’sburnedhand.
“It’snottoobad—”
Amessengerranupashewaswrappingthehandwithabandage.
The messenger spoke in rapid-fire French, taking Kace aback, until Kace realized the messenger was
talkingnottohimbuttoMahmet.
MahmoudconversedwiththemessengerinFrench.HeturnedtoKace.
“TheAstrolabeneedsanewgudgeon.Canyoucanfixit?”
“TheAstrolabe?”askedKaceindisbelief.“LaPerouse’sownship?”
“Yes,”repliedMahmet.
TheFrenchmessenger,recognizingtheship’sname,noddedinencouragement.
“Boy,thatisoneofthefinestshipswhichsailthebluewaters.I’llwagercanfixanymetalfittingbuiltby
thehandofman,but—”
TheFrenchmessengerspokeagain,rapidly.
“Theentirepintlemechanismisapparentlynotworkingproperly,”translatedMahmet.“LaPerousewants
toreplaceitentirely,andhehasheardyouarethebestshipwrightintheport.TheybelievetheBosnianisan
incompetentcrook.”
“Thatheis—”Kacestartedtoreply,butthemessengerhadmoretosay.
“Perhapsallthetillerclipsanddoublets,aswell,”saidMahmet.“Apparently,theyweredamagedwhenthe
expeditionmadeanabruptexitfromagroupofaborigines.”MahmoudthennamedthepricetheFrenchmen
werewillingtopay.Kace’seyesgrewlarge.
ThemessengerlookedexpectantlyatKace,thenatMahmet.
Kacenoddedhishead.
Mahmetspoketothemessenger,whoaskedtwoquestions,listenedcarefullytotheanswers,handedover
anoteand,withapolitebow,departed.
“You may buy whatever material you need this afternoon,” said Mahmoud to his master, the Cossack
shipwrightKace.“Thisistheirmarker,whichyoucanshowtothemerchants.Heaskedmetowriteupthe
contractanddeliveritwithinthehour.”Mahmetwincedashere-wrappedthebandagearoundhisburned
lefthand.“TheyhaveheardyouareamostdifficultCossackkychetbka.”(Thewordheactuallyusedwasfar
worsethanthis).“Isaidthatyouwereanhonesttradesman,onewhobrookedneitherobstaclenorexcuse
when it came to doing the best work for his clients, and that all may profit from your devoted
craftsmanship.”
Mahmet had not noticed that the other yard workers, especially the hard-working Sich (that is the
Zaporozhtsi,youngmembersofthatlong-downtroddenmountaintribe)boys,werenotentirelypleasedthat
thenewestamongthemwaselevatinghispositionsoquickly.Thesesullen,less-than-skilledlads,fromthe
landsbeyondtherapids,nursedaresentmentofallOttomanTurks,andregardedthemasthelatestwaveof
oppressors.Theyhadwellnotedthefatbroom-boy’slineageasheclimbedKace’sladder.Souchakandthe
restofKace’sforemenwerecarefultoseparateMahmoudfromtheothers,andrarely lethimoutoftheir
sight,fortheyunderstoodthenewbusinesshecouldbringtotheshop.
OnthenightofMahmet’ssecondpayday,KaceleftearlywiththreeofhisforementoinstalltheAstrolabe’s
rudderworks.Theforemenwenthometotheirfamilies,thecrewwenttotheill-littavernsofthecrooked
streetsofKodosky(onceChalcedon)precinttospendtheirmoney.Aroundmidnight,asmallbandoftheSich
apprenticesgathered in thedesertedshipyard,huddled in themoon-shadowsbeneath theraisedhullofa
caravel,crouching,whisperinginthesilver-litsandpits,pointingtotheshackwhereMahmoudslept.
Theyardboyswaited,tobesurethatallofthesupervisorshadleft.
TheywaiteduntilthePortwatchmenhadmadetheirroundsthroughthedistrict.
Oneofthemhadmeattocoaxoutthedogs.
Severalcarriedtorchesastheysnuckuptosurroundtheshack.
Theyfedthemeattothedogs,whosnarled,sensingthatsomethingwasabouttobeverywrong.Theytied
ragsaroundthedogs’muzzles.
Intherealworld,therearerarelyfriendlyenemies,rivalswhofight,butfightasgentlemen,combatants
withmutualrespect;theseexistmostlyinbooks.TheZaporozhtsidraggedMahmetfromhisshedandbeat
him.Itwasnotaschoolboybeating,orsomeceremonialtusslesuchasmightdeliverawarning:fromthe
firstwickedblow,thiswasapurposefulsavaging,onewithmurderousintent.Theytookaimathisface,and
hisinternalorgans.Theytookturns.
“Mercy,”whisperedMahmet.
“Thereisnomercyinthisworld,”respondedStepan,thegang’sleader.
Ametalbarwasraisedandtheystruckthefatbroom-boyanew.Somethingsnapped.
Suddenlyoneoftheyoungerboyswailed.
“Stop!Stop!”hecried,anoteofrealdesperationinhisvoice.Hethrewhimselfbetweentheattackersand
theirvictim,wavinghisarmsfrantically.
Theyallfrozeinplace.
“What?Isitawatchman—”askedStepaninahoarsewhisper.
The young Cossack pointed to the victim’s left hand. A bandage which had been wrapped around the
broom-boy’shandhadunraveled:inthemoonlight,theycouldseeasmalltattooonhiswrist.Itwasatattoo
ofanold-fashionedcompass.
NowtheyoungSichwaswailingmiserably,hoppingaroundtheshed,inconsolable.
“Areyouhurt?”askedhismates.“Butheisnotevenfightingback—”
“No,no,no,”criedtheboywhohadseenthetattoo.“WeareallDEAD!Oh,fortheloveofGod—wedidn’t
know!Whydidn’tweKNOW?”Hecontinuedoninthiswretchedvein,thenswitchedtogibberingabouthis
poorfamilyandthehorrorsthatwouldsoonbefallthem.
Withagasp,oneoftheothersspottedthetattoo.HeheldMahmoud’slimparmout,inthemoonlight,so
theotherscouldsee.
“Whatisit?”askedoneoftheespeciallystupidyouth.“Atattoo.Sowhat?”askedanother.
“Wemustrunasfarandasfastaswecan,thoughitwilldousnogood,”declaredtheeldestamongthem.
Grim-faced,hestood,nolongerseemingquitesoyoung:hedroppedhistorchandlopedpurposefullyacross
thewhitesandsintotheswallowingshadowsofnight,andwasgone.
Theboywhohadfirstseenthemarkingranafterhim,stillwailing.Somewithcurses,somepalewitha
suddenunderstanding,oneortwo,likeStepan,stillmakingnosenseofitall,theothersfollowed,untilthe
yardwasonceagainsilent,butforthedogs’muffledwhimpersandtheraspingbreathsofthecrumpledform
whichlayontheverycleanplanksoftheboardwalk,face-down,inadeepeningpoolofblood.
ThewatchmanofaneighboringshoprantofetchKace.
KacefoundMahmetunconscious.Hisclothingwassoakedinblood.Kacecarefullycarriedtheboyonhis
armsandlayhimonthesturdytablebytheforge,wherehecouldseehiswounds.Thetwodogswatched
closely,disturbedbyMahmet’sraggedgasps,andtheshudderingsoundsmadewhenathroatischokedwith
blood.
“Allright,”saidKace.
“Listentome,boy:youarehurt,butnottoobadly.Yournoseisbroken.Ineedtogetitbackinitsproper
place.Doyouunderstand?”
The eyes in that swollen, bloody face had come alive. They looked at Kace now, with all their fierce
understanding,widewithincomprehension,terriblyshaken:Kacecouldseethattheboywasfrightenedby
thepain.Hehasneverbeeninafightbefore…Hedidnotunderstandwhyhehadbeenbeaten;hedidnot
knowthatsuchpersonalcrueltyevenexisted.Yethewastryingtocalmhimself.
Heistrying,thoughtKace.Heiswilling.
Thegripontheman’swristwaslikeavise.
“Lookatme,son.YoucannotbreatheproperlyunlessIrightit.Ihavesentforasurgeon,butthereisno
time.Ican’twait.Doyouunderstand?”
“Iunderstand,”saidMahmet,throughbloodiedlips.
“Goodboy.Gripmetight,tightasyoucan.Thiswillhurt—”
Kacetookoneofhismetalclampsandfixedthenose.
“Ihavefound,asImoveabout,”saidKaceashesetabouthisbloodytask,“thatsomemenwilllikeyou,
andsomewilldislikeyou.Itislittlematter,forallhonestmencangetalonginthecourseofaday’swork.
Buttheremaybeafewyoucannotreasonwith.”Hestraightenedforamoment,toseehisprogress.“Those,
youneedtokill.”
Kacedidnotgetthebrokennosefixedthefirsttime,andhadtorepeattheprocedure.
Noscreamtorethenight.Thewatchmanwhoheldthelanternfainted.Kacefinished,andsteppedback.
Helistenedtotheboy’sbreathing,smoothernow.Thewatchmanmutteredaprayer,seekingAllah’sgrace
forthescarredboy.
“It’snosurgeon’swork,butitwilldo,”gruntedKacewithsatisfaction.
Hefetchedwaterintwobucketssohecouldcleantheboy’swounds.Thepatientwouldlive.Lyingfaceup,
onthetablebytheforge,hiseyesonthestars,Mahmetrepeatedtheprayertohisancestors,overandover.
Hedidnotweepforhimself,orcomplain,butgrippedKace’sarmverytight.
Beneaththisroundboywemayyetfindaman,Kaceremarkedtohimself.
18
ANAUDIENCEWITHTHESULTAN
Oman!Placenotthyconfidenceinthispresentworld!
—EdwardGibbon
“Youhavebeeninjured,”saidSultanAbdulhamidAhmedResmiMustafaHasanHusameddinCezayrili,sonof
thefirstwifeofAhmedResmiEfendi,CaliphofallMuslims,RuleroftheOttomanEmpire,tohisson,Prince
Mahmet.
Mildconcerntingedthefather’sthinanddistantvoice.
“Itisnothing,”saidthePrince.
ButeventheSultan,thatmostself-absorbedofmen,couldseethattheboy’sonce-perfectnosehadbeen
broken.
The Cossack’s tongs had left a distinctive scar, jagged and angled, across its bridge. That, and some
bruising under the eyes, and a muscularity about the shoulders that had not been present before, gave
Mahmetadifferentaspect,ashestoodinthesumptuousofficechambersofhisfather,theSultan.
ThePrincewaswearinghisfavoritejacket,thered,high-collaredoneembroideredwithcelestialdesigns,
butitdidnotfitquitethesame.TheSultan,whosawMahmoudonlyintermittently,blinked,andlookedat
hissonforanextramoment.
TheSultan’sexpansiveofficesoverlooked theharemcourtyardand,downhill fromthem,past thewalls,
the kitchens and bakeries where Mahmet and his brothers, Kemal and Amir, had recently ridden their
horses.Greatpiecesofheavywoodfurniturewereplacedabouttheroomlikepiecesonastage.Ceremonial
objectdecoratedshelvesbuiltintothewalls,portraitsofwarlords,framedproclamations,awards,artifacts
oftheempire.Mahmet’seyefelluponhugeboundbooksofchartswhichsatonthemahoganydesk.
“GiftsfromtheSayafidCaliph,”saidhisfather.“IbnSa’iddrewtheminthe12thcentury.Theyshowevery
capeandbayontheMediterraneancoastlines.Canyouimagine?Those,there,totheleft,thoseareofthe
Turkishnavigator,PiriReis.Moreartful,Ithink.Lessaccurate.”
“Howdidyoufindthenorthernprovinces,Father?”
“Mostagreeable.Ourfoodwasexcellent,butfortheviands,whichtendedtogripmystomachterribly.I
couldnotdigestthemproperly,theyweresoinferior.”
Sultan Abdulhamid II’s face was thin, with a high forehead. His features, like his son’s, were refined,
almost delicate. His eyes, however, were smaller, and not so bright as Mahmet’s: his high cheekbones
seemedtoblockthem,andcastashadowoverhis fullmoustache.SultanAbdulhamidIIwasdressed ina
formalmilitaryuniform,whichhefavoredwhenhespenttimeintheTopkapigrounds.
“Oh,youmeanthepoliticsofitall.Well,theCircassiansarehardheaded.Gunseli,”hesaid,referringtothe
MinisterofFinance,“tellsmehehadsomeproductivetalkswiththeirmerchants.”
“Are they willing to tithe for the new navy?” askedMahmet, referring to the generation-long effort to
mountaproperOttomanfleettoprotectitsmerchants’shipsandbeatbackportblockadesandseizures-at-
seabythebullyBritish.
“I’msureIdon’tknow.Theyseemedlikeverypleasantfellows,ifthatisanyindication.”
Mahmet’sfather,SultanAbdulhamidtheSecond,hadcometopowerduringatimeofexplosivegrowthand
unprecedentedwealthofcommerce,practicallynoneofwhichtheOttomanEmpiresharedin.Preoccupied
with internal affairs, the Ottoman Empire let the Age of Exploration pass it by. Suspicious Sultans had
bickeredovercontrolwiththeirownvizierandtheDiwan(orSupremeCourt),powerpassedtothemilitary
class, the janissaries,whocaredonly for thepossessionofpower,andnot itsexercise in the serviceofa
common good. The government was filled with sons of sons of bureaucrats, men who had gained their
positionsnotbymeritbutbyinheritance.TherulingclassesstrangledOttomanTurkey.TheOttomanEmpire
hadneglectedtosendasingleexplorerintothenewoceans.ForallthePortugueseandEnglishandSpanish
and French explorers, there were no Turks, save Piri Reis, a 16th Century admiral andmost competent
cartographer.Asthrillingaccountsofdiscoveredlandsandspicesandtomatoesandteasandsavagescladin
goldrobescamebacktotheportsofwesternEurope,theOttomansdidnothing.NoTurkishbankersstepped
forwardtosponsorvoyages.Nomonarchassembledtheculture’swisemen,asHenrytheNavigatordid,to
imaginethecontoursofthesenewcontinents,andplothowtosailthem.Nocollectiveofmerchantsformed,
boldmenwillingtorisktheirmoneytolaunchTurkishexpeditions;noHudsonBayCompanyorDutchEast
IndiaCompanyappearedtofinancesuchvoyages,noraLloyds’toinsurethem,andsoforth.TheOttoman
Sultan was left to make the rounds of his dwindling territories, trying to placate rebel states who were
restlessforastakeinaworldthatwaspassingthemby.Abdulhamidruledakingdomwhoseeconomyand
fortuneswereshrinking.
“AndhowislifeamongtheFranks?”theSultanaskedhismostcapableson.By‘Franks’hemeantnotonly
theFrench,butWesternersasawhole(includingallRussianswestofMoscow).
“HowdidtheyteachthebattleofByzantium,eh?AndDiu?WeretheyvictoriesfortheChristians?Withten
thousanddead,andtheEuropeanarmiesleftintatters?”Helaughedbitterly.
“Oh, it suits the Franks to tilt all the histories. They tell themselves the flattering story. They paint
themselves as heroes. Explorers. Crusaders. The hope of the pious peoples of the world. It is they who
encourageournorthernrebelsintowarwithus,youknow.TheGermanconsulatTangiers,amanapparently
lackingindiscretionwhendrinking,spilledthatlittlesecret.Yes.Hemostcertainlydid.TheKingofNorway
meanstoinvadeusthissummer,bytheway…”
ThisseemedtoMahmoudanoddnotion,thataScandinavianmonarchwouldchoosetolaunchanassault
ontheOttomans,especiallyinlightofKingHarald’spreoccupationwithhiscountry’sterritorialwarswith
Sweden.
“APortuguesemercenarymentioned it toan Irishman ina tavern lastweek inMorocco.Yes.Myagents
keepmeinformedofalltheplotsagainstus,allacrosstheContinent—”Hewavedhishand,tosuggesthis
masteryoveraswathofterritorystretchingfromthesouthernmosttipofsunnyItalytothefish-filledfjords
ofthefrozennorth.
“Oh,theChristianshavedevelopedatasteforthegoodsoftheEast,”saidMahmet’sfather.“Oh,yes.”
Itwashisfavoritetheme.“EversincetheoverlandroutesfellintoMuslimhands,inthetimeofOsman,and
theemiratesofGhazi,theEuropeanshavedesiredwhatwepossess.Desireditmostterribly.TheCrusades
onlywhettedtheirappetites:intheircrusadingpursuits,theChristiansdevelopedatasteforthefruitsofthe
Orient.Andwearetheonlygateway!UnlessyoupreferawaterydeathdyingtryingtoroundtheCapeof
Africa.ManyaretheGenoese,thehappyGreeks,andtheDogesofVenice,whohaveengorgedthemselveson
thebanksoftheBosporus.You,Mahmoud,youinparticularhaveanappreciationofallthecomplexities…all
thatImustdealwith.Inmyfather’sday,theoppositionwasclearandoutintheopen:today,itisseditionof
themostperniciouskind…”
Ashelistenedtotheopeninglinesofhisfather’swell-wornspeech,itdawnedonMahmetthathisfather
didnothavethefirstideaofwhathewastalkingabout.
Every youth experiences the sudden insight that his father is merely human—not all-powerful, or
particularlywise, justamanlivingwithwhatsad limitationsweeachbear.So itwas inthismomentwith
Mahmet: he stared at his father as though seeing him for the first time.Mahmet realized his father had
never cracked the cover of any one of Ibn Sa’id’s journals: hewas just parroting someworldly-sounding
commentshehadheardmadebyCynthiana,orGunseli,orsomeotherlearnedperson.Thisrealizationdid
notembitterMahmet:justtheopposite,itmadehimfeelsorryforhisfather,aparenthehadneverknown
closelybutwhohebelievedtrulylovedhim.Hisfatherwasnotarealman,likeKace,orMasterFrestel,but
apretendman.Struttinginhisceremonialuniform,inanofficefullofceremonialpaintingsandceremonial
booksanddeskswhichwereneverused,heseemedlikeanactordoinganimpersonationofaSultan:one
whohadbeenthrownintothefamilybusiness,onlytofindthathehadnocapacityforit.SultanAbdulhamid
the Second, Caliph of All Caliphs, was scared—scared of Europe, frightened by his own soldiers and
ministers, intimidated by the northern rebels, scared moreover by the complexities and overwhelming
responsibilitiesofleadinganation.
“Amirtoldmetherewasanewtimetableforthesuccession,”saidMahmet.
The Sultan looked up sharply, as though he had not at all expected Mahmet to initiate this line of
questioning.
“YoumustmeetSabahat,”hesaid,ofhisnewwife.“Sheisquiteclever.”
TheSultanfiddledwiththesilverbeltonhisuniform,flickingawaysomeerrantspeckofdirt.
“WhilewewereinspectingthecavesinCircassia,Sabahatgavebirth,”saidtheSultan.
“Toason.”
Mahmetcouldnotbreathe.Hisskullbecamelight,asifall itscontentswereturningtovapor.Theroom
seemed tostartwhirling, ina tiltedorbit,with itsaxis justbetweenMahmet’s two feet.He lookeddown.
Howcurious…Mahmoudwonderedifhewasstillstanding,orifhehadbeenknockedtothepolishedfloor:
seeinghisfatherandall theroom’sfurnishingsstill inanuprightposition,hedecidedthathewas indeed
standing.
Mahmet’sfatherhadsaidonethingwhilemeaningsomealtogetherdifferentthing.
“I—I—”Mahmettriedtoformsomekindofresponse,acongratulatoryphrase,something,butthewords
wouldnotform.
His father acknowledged the unfinished comment with a nod of the head, as though they were both
readinglinestheyhadrehearsedatsomeearliertime.
“HisnameisCem,”saidtheSultanproudly.
“Cem,”theSultanrepeated,asthoughsampling,inhismind,variousappellationsthatmightfollowit.
CemtheJust…CemtheResolute…CemtheReformer…
Justtomakethenewsituationperfectlyclear,headded:
“Cemwillascendtomythrone.Youwillserveashismostvaluedadvisor.”
TheSultanmovedavaseof tulipson thedeskabit, so that thesunlight lightstruck the flowers’bulbs
moreadvantageously.
“Kadiasker,ifyouwill.”
Mahmetlaughed.
Thistermkadiaskermeantthefirst legaladvisoronlegalmatters,apositionwelloutsidetheranksofa
Sultan’sinnercircle.DemotedfromSultan,Mahmoudwasquicklybeingshuntedfartothesidebythenew
wife.SheandCem’shandlerswouldensurethatMahmet’sstatuswouldonlyfallthroughthecomingyears,
untilhewasaplasterfigurine,oneofthefatmadcreatureswhoprowledtheharemhallways.
“Idon’tseewhatissofunny,”saidtheSultan.
“Deminimisnoncuratpraetor,”saidMahmet,asthoughitwereagreatcompliment.TheSultan,whodid
notknowLatin,raisedhiseyebrows.
“Yournewbrotherwillneedgoodcounsel,”hecontinued.“SoyourtimeamongtheFrankshasbeenwell
spent.Hisascensionistwentyyearsinthefuture,ofcourse:thatwillgiveyoutimetoshapeyourownlife,
andsoon.PraiseAllah.”
Inthehorriblesilencethatwasinevitable,Mahmetimaginedhecouldheartheswishofpeacockfeathers
in the courtyards just outside, andwatermoving through pipes somewhere, and a slight wind, from the
southandwest.
“Heishappierwhodoesnotwearthemantleofpower,”theSultansaidawkwardly.
HegaveasurreptitiousSultanicsignal,andanaideenteredtocallAbdulhamidawayonaffairsofstate.
“TheemirsofMombassaawait,I’mafraid…”saidtheSultanashetookhisleave.“TellyourmotherIhope
toseeherjustassoonasmyscheduleal—”
“Father,”saidMahmoud.
Abdulhamidstoppedinmid-stride.
“Yes?”
TheSultan’smostcapablesonstoodstraight,hisshoulderssquared,andspokeinatoneofvoicehisfather
hadneverheardbefore.
“Youmustdoasyouseefit.Forthekingdom.”Thesonstraightenedthecollarofhisfavoritejacket,and
heldhimselfupright.“Iwishyouonlywell.”
“Yes.Well…thankyou,Mahmoud. I amsure…Iamsure that Idoact, orhope that Iact, inall ourbest
interests.I…Idon’t…Oh,whatacuriousspeechyoumake,Icannotimaginewhatitallmeans.”
But theybothknew thatMahmoud, in the family tradition,had saidone thingandconveyed something
altogetherdifferent;inthiscase,somethingentirelylarger.
Hemeantgoodbye.
TheCaliphofAllCaliphs leftthesumptuousofficechambers,nowemptybutforasumptuousdisplayof
furnitureandvariousmementosandthejournalsofIb’nSaidandayoungmanwhosuddenlyhadnoplacein
theworld.
19
ALETTERARRIVES(PartII)
Dailytherocksaccumulateposition.—RobertCreeley
Theowlcalledthewatchesinthegardensofthepalace.
VermillionnightreignedoverTopkapiPalaceandallofSeraglioPoint.Cricketschirped.Unseennocturnals
foragedforseedinthedew-decoratedlawns.TheGateofSalutationwasstillandquiet.Coolpocketsoffog
settledingulleysandstreambedsandaroundfoot-bridges.Fromthetopfloorofthefamilywing,youcould
seesilentswathsofgreenamongred-tiledroofsbelow,andtheterracedsleepinggardensofjasmine,lilies,
roses,andtulips.
The highest-ranking of the Janissary Guard, Darmoush, knocked at the entryway to PrinceMahmoud’s
chambers.Receivingnoresponsebutalightbreezecominginfromthesea,heentered.
Hecarriedaleathercourier’spouch.
Ithadarrivedthatafternoon,onashipfromRussia.
ThepouchhadcomeontheshipMedina,returningfromLeningrad.Itwasaddressedinafemininehand
for prompt delivery to “Royal Prince Mahmoud of Topkapi Palace,” a marking equivalent to “Valuables
Within”or“StealMe”inmostcases.Luckily,whenthepouchhadarrivedatthegarrisonfromthedockslate
thisverynight,Darmoushhadseenit,andsignedforit,andnowtookitstraighttothePrince.
Allwasquietwithin.
Curtainswavedinthenightwinds.Softlightfellacrossajumbleofcushionsandsmalldivansandthree-
legged stools lay strewn across thick, patterned rugs.Here and there lay ceramic dishes and half-empty
goblets,remnantsoffeastspast.Someonehasbeenbusygorging,remarkedDarmoushtohimself.
Mahmethadnot left his chambers in over aweek.Nonehadheardhim speak for twice that long.The
guardsmansawthecontoursoftheplumpPrinceMahmet,reclininginasofaseat,bythewindow,onthefar
sideofasortoffortressmadeofpillows,apaddedwallwhichformedaperimetersurroundingthewindow
seat,asthoughtokeeptheworldatbay.TheprofileofthePrinceheldafaintcoronaofmoonlight,andwas
limnedbystarryblue.
“Apouchforyou,myPrince.”
Darmoushlettheleathermailpouchslaponthemarblefloor.
“FromthelandoftheTsars.”
Themanmeantitasanannouncement:hehopedwhateverwasinthepouchwouldwakeMahmetfromhis
torpor.NonewantedtoseethissonoftheSultanslideintothesameswampofindolencethathadclaimed
hisbrothers.
Mahmetwaiteduntilheheardtheguardsmandepartbeforeherousedfromhispillowedfortress.
Heopenedthepouch.
Heopenedthemasterletter.Therewerethreeothers.
Hewentintohiscloset,toretrievethescytale.
HecopiedtheoriginalletterinCyrillic,anditsuncodedtranslationintohisownalphabet.Then,takingher
scriptasabase,heusedthescytale’s totranspose its letters,andsoonanentirelynewmessage,theone
encryptedbeneaththeinnocuousmessageoftheplaintextemerged.
Onlysevensentences,butenoughtochangealife.
Severallives.
Theotherthree lettershedidnotopen—hedidnotneedto, forshehadtoldhimwhatwas inthem.He
read the decodedmessage over and over, until he had committed it to memory: then he let it, and her
originalmissive,dropinthefireplace,andwatcheduntilflameconvertedeveryinchofthetwoparchments
intoblackenedsoot.
PrinceMahmoudtookaction.Herummagedthroughhisclosetsforcertainitems(ausefulknife,hisbest
jacket)andfromtwomoneybeltshecarefullyfashionedanoilskinwrap, inwhichhehidthethreeletters
which Clotilde had put in his possession and tied them snugly to his chest. A few more belongings he
crammedintoapackwhichfitonhisback,ashehadseenthesailorsatKace’sshipyarddo.
Theowlcalledthewatchesinthegardensofthepalace.
MahmetvisitedhisbrotherAmir’squarters.IttookhimawhiletofindandfreetheAdmiraltysealfromits
lockeddrawer.
Heknewwheretheguardsplayedcardsatnight,andavoidedthegarrisons.Nonebutafewhorsessaw
thePrinceasheslippedoutofthecourtyardsandbeneaththeGateofSalutationanddowntotheshoreline
ofSeraglioPoint.
20
CAESAR’SCODE
Maybewe’reatourbest,wehumans,whenweputourselvesintouncomfortablesituations.
—JenniferWilson
“Heisgone!”
BayazidburstintotheorderlychambersofthePortMistress.Itwasearlyinthemorning.
Cynthianawhirledattheintrusion.
TheSultan’ssecondwifewasbarelydressedinsilkennightrobes,herhairstilltousledfromslumber.She
carrieddocumentsinherhands,whichshewavedbeforehermostpitiably.Julidetrailedbehind,andlittle
Papaya, frightened, clung to her older sister’s skirts, and behind them a small clutch of servants and
attendants,halfofthemalsocladintheirnightrobes.Thetwobrothers,AmirandKemal,closedthedoors.
“Gone,Cynthiana!Gone!Whatshallwedo?”
Cynthiana snatched a sword from the hands of Kemal, who appeared to be drunk, and was waving it
recklessly.
“Hehadleftthisnote.Threedaysago.”
SheshowedCynthiana,whorecognizedMahmoud’sdistinctivehandwriting.
“Itsayshe isgoingto joinhisbrothersontheirhuntingtrip, inYesrit.Buttheyhave justreturned,and
Mahmoudwasneverwiththem.Hischambersareempty.”
“Whenisthelasttimeanyonesawhim?”askedCynthianasharply.“SawMahmoud,orspoketohim?”
Noonespoke.Eyesglazed,tryingtorecall—
“IplayedcardswithhimSundaynight,”saidJulide.“Hewasverymean,soIquit.”
“Didanyoneseehimsincethen?Anyone?No?That’sfourdaysago.Damnyou,Kemal—”hissedCynthiana,
seeing that the wobbly-legged older Prince had now replaced the sword with a curved Russian dagger.
CynthianasignaledfortwoofhermentodisarmKemalandcarryhimoff.
“Didtherebelstakehim?”askedBayazid.
“Shouldn’twetellFather?”askedJulide.
“Whatsenseisthereinthis?”askedBayazidplaintively.
“OneoftheGuardstoldmehesignedforacourier’spouch,earlierintheweek,”saidAmir.“Hesaidhe
deliveredittoMahmoud.IthadRussianwriting.”
“Itmustbefromhisschool-mate,Catherine’sniece—”saidCynthiana.
“Ifoundthisonhisdesk.”Papatyaofferedupablankpieceofpaper.
Julide andCynthiana looked at it: it was parchmentwith nowriting, probably the top piece of a stack
whichthesimple-mindedgirlhadfoundonherbrother’sdesk.Julidestartedtotakeitaway,buttheHarbor
Mistressstoppedher.Shehelditcarefully,andtitleditinthemorninglight.
“ItseemstohavecapturedtheimpressionofMahmoud’shandwriting.AtleastIthinkso…”
JulideandCynthianatooktheparchmentandcarriedittothewindow,lettinglightfallonitfromdifferent
angles.
“It’swrittenincode.Hecopiedithere.Goodgirl,”noddedCynthianatoPapatya.“Hemusthaveburntthe
original…”Shelookedlongatthepaper.“Doeshehaveascytale?”sheaskedJulide.“It lookslikeametal
cylinder,withastrap—”butJulidewasalreadygoneandsoonreturned,holdingthescytale.
Ittooksometime,buteventuallyshewasabletospelloutthetextofClotilde’sletter,whichMahmethad
copiedontoaparchmentintopoftheoneJulidehadfound.
“It isaCaesar’scode,”saidCynthianawhenshehad it transcribed.“AversionwhichMahmoudandhis
school-mates no doubt have adapted for their own use. Not unlike that which Julius Caesar used to
communicatewithhis generals.Apparently, oneof themhas readVignere. I had toguess at someof the
words,butthisseemsmoreorlessplausible—”Shereaditaloud:
MyDearestNitidus—
MasterF.isdead.G.hasgonetojointheBostonians,andIfearforhislifeaswell.Thestepswehave
longplannedforhavecometofruition,theproofbeinginyourhands.
Inowinvokethevowwetookthatnightbythegrave.Iaskthatyoudeliverthefruitsofalloureffortsto
G.inAmerica,intohishands,personally.Onlythiswaycanwefulfillourpact,andsleepknowingthat
wehavedoneallwecanensuretheequalityofallmen.
IknowthatwhatIaskwillplaceyouindanger’spath.Itisintheserviceofabetterworld.
Youwalkinmydevotion—
Always,
Clotilde
“Chattything,isn’tshe?”askedCynthiana.“Ihaveheardsheismostfetching.Itislittlewonderourboy
succumbed.”
“Whois‘G’?”askedBayazidplaintively.
“ItmustbetheFrenchboy,Gilbert,”saidJulide.
“’Nitidus?’Whois‘Nitidus’?”drawledadrunkenKemal,whohadre-joinedthegroup.
“Whatdoesthatmean,‘theproofisinyourhands’?”askedAmir.“Whatproof?”
“Whatwasinhishands?”askedKemalashefelltothefloor.
“ButwhyisheinBoston?”askedBayazin.“Iamatsea—”
“Jewels?”guessedKemal,nowstandingagain.“WeretheyRussianjewels?Butwhatproofwouldjewelsbe
—say,whatsortofwizardryisatworkhere—”
Cynthiana leaned over and removed one of the thin pads of onion skin paper. The Port Mistress had
neglectedtoreadhergueststwoshortsentencesofthethirdparagraphofClotilde’sletter,whichwereas
follows:
Inthispouchfindthreelettersofsuchimportanceastochangehistory.
Youmustaddyourown,andthendeliveralltoGilbert,inAmerica.
Shescribbledamessageontheparchment,rolleditcarefully,insertingitintothetinyhollowcaseasshe
walkedupthewindingstaircasetotheroofloft,whereshewouldfastenittothelegofherbestcarrier.She
called the bird’s name. She asked, “Where is the smart one?” The pigeon heard something in the Port
Mistress’voice,anddidnotrespondtohercall,butinsteadcockedhishead.
Femininehandsreachedintothecage.Long,well-manicuredfingerswrappedaroundthebird’spalegrey
wings,withtheirdoubleblackbars,andaroundhisbeatingheart.Therockpigeonbracedhimselftofly:It
wouldbeadayandanightcrossingazurewatersbeforehewouldrestagain.
21
THEPROTECTOR
“Allone,”saidMowgli.“Digtheholedeep.”—RudyardKipling
“Boss,”calledtheshipyardforeman.
Kacehesitated,hishammerinmid-air.
Somethingintheman’svoicesuggestedthattheCossackshipwright’simmediateattentionwasrequired.
“ThePortMistresstoseeyou,”saidtheforeman.
Cynthianamadefrequentwalksthroughtheshipyards,soherpresenceintheAnsalmowasnotunusual.
“Kace.”
ThePortMistressdidnotbothertotendherhairinthebreeze,anditswirledwithherrobesasshestood
amongherclerksintheCossack’sbusy,noisyyard.Itwascleanerthanshehadlastseenit,sheremarked,
andmoreorderly.
“LaPerouse tells me you did an excellent job. For a Cossack. I want you to come to my offices this
afternoon,theremaybeanothercommissionforyou—”
They spoke of his work on the Astrolabe. Cynthiana took an active interest in the materials and
instrumentsofhisshipyardAtonepointintheirdiscussion,sheleanedacrosstheCossack,asiftoinspect
themetalwhichhewascraftinginhisfiery-redforge,andunderneathherbreath,shetoldhim,“Theboyis
gone.”
Kacelookedupsharply.
“OurboywantstobeaColonial.”
Constantinople’sHarborMistresscouldnothelpbutsmileasshesaidit,andKaceshookhisheadalittle
andsmiledtoo,forhehadcometoholdtheyoungmaninsomeaffection.
Kace and Cynthiana stood overlooking the southern harbors of the Bosporus, beneath the semaphore
tower,itsgiantflappingflagsandbrighthuesspellingoutsecretsignals,messagesburiedincode,hiddenin
particularcombinationsofcolors.Theywatchedshipsofallsizeandshapemoveacrossthewatersbelow,
glidingtowarddestinationsnearandfar.
“Hewouldgosouth,directlytoEceabat,”Cynthianaguessed.“Iwould.”
“Hehasthreedays’start,”gruntedtheCossack.“MaybewecancatchhimatJabalTariq,”hesaid,using
the Turkish name of the British colony Gibraltar, where the Pillars of Hercules stand guard over the
Mediterranean’s only outlet to the broad Atlantic. Cynthiana’s shipping agency (the Dutch firm, Mickler
Sykes)hadanofficeinGibraltar—twoactually,oneatCatelaBayandanotheratLeuchturm,rightthereat
Gibraltar’s southernmost point—and, in theory, they could intercept the would-be colonial. Assuming, of
course, that they could identify the ship on which he sailed. Once past the pillars, there would be no
stoppinghim.
AnuneasythoughtroseinthePortMistress.
HemightnotgotoEceabat…
WhatdidtheRussiangirlcallhimintheletter?‘Nitidus’?Didthatmeansomething?
HewouldknowthatwewouldfollowhimtoEceabat…
Nitidusdidnotwanttobefound.Hedidnotwanttobetrackeddown,collared,andreturnedtothepalace
inshame,likesomelostdog.
HewouldnotlethimselfgetcaughtatEceabat.
Ifhecouldnotbecaughtandbroughtback,atleasttheycouldsendhimaprotector.
SheglancedatKace.Henarrowedhiseyesandturnedtolookoutagain,thistimetothesouthandwest,
past where the waters met the horizon, towards unseen Gallipoli, and the labyrinth of the Dardenelles
beyond,andbeyondthat,Gibraltar,andbeyondthat,America.
22
THEASSASSIN
Asforyou—youareonlyadetail,likealltheothers;youweresetinplacebecauseyouwouldactasyoudid.—WilliamGolding,TheInheritors
“Speak,”laughedtheclient,whowasoddlyanimatedforvisitingsuchawretchedplaceasthis.
Theprisonerdidnotspeak.
Theclient’shenchmanstrucktheprisonermightilyacrosstheface,andallthechainsshookwiththeforce
oftheblow.Bloodspurtedfromanewwound,atacorneroftheprisoner’smouth.
“Thisissportforthem,”theclientsaid,indicatingthehalf-dozenhenchmenwhoserestlessbulkfilledthe
fetidjailcell(ifitcouldbecalledthat).“Ifonegetstired,Ihavefivemoretotakehisplace.”
Six chains were tied to the prisoner: one thick chain tied to an iron collar which dug into the flesh; a
second,thinner,directlyroundhisneck;andoneeachforthearmsandlegs.
“Now.What’syourname?”
“HisnameisTaquin,”saidDeniIbrahim.
“Notyou.”Theclientsnorted.“You.Whatisyourname?”
“Answer,”saidthehenchman.Heyankedanarmchainviciously,partlyrendingtheprisoner’sshoulder.
The criminal, a man of sinew and vulpine features, looked at the speaker with the cold eyes of a pure
predator.
“Taquin,”utteredtheprisoner.Therewasacurious,liquidqualitytohisvoice:itwasmoltenfury.
“That’sbetter,”saidtheclient.
DeniIbrahimglancednervouslyathisclient
DeniIbrahimwasafixer,amiddleman,amatchmaker,amanwhomadehislivingpairingwealthyclients
withtheserviceorobjectoftheirimmediateneed.Ordesire.Nomatterwhattheservice,orwhattheobject.
He looked likeaschoolmaster.Neatlygroomed,modestlydressed,withkindlyeyes,Deni Ibrahimspoke
likeateacher,inpropergrammar,alwaysabletomakeaflatteringphrasesoundconvincing,alwaysable,by
anartfulshiftoftheconversationoratimelyself-deprecatingcomment,toheadoffanyunpleasantconflict,
andshuntmatterstoamutuallybeneficialconclusion.
ButevenDeniIbrahim’spowersofdiscretionweretestedbythispresenterrand.
“Theysayyouarethedevilinhumanform,‘Taquin,’”theclienttoldtheprisoner.“Youdon’tlooksoevilto
me.”
“Thismanhascommittedthevilestcrimes,”saidDeniIbrahim.“Theysaythemost jadedofficersof the
King’sGuardweresickenedbythesavageryofhisattacks—”
TheclientheldupahandtosilenceDeniIbrahim.
“Areyouthedevil?”
This isabadclient,decidedDeni Ibrahim.Hewishedhehadnot taken thecommission.Theclienthad
requestedabloodthirstykiller.Notacommonkiller,butonewhocouldmove incivilizedcircles,onewho
wasresourceful.Andtheclientrequestedakillerwitha family towhomhewasdevoted.Thefinder’s fee
wasenormous.
“No,”mutteredtheprisoner.“Iamnotthedevil.”
“Areyoumeasured?Canyouwait?Canyouplan?Canyouplotacourse,orareyousimplyabutcher?”
“Heismostwell-educated,”assuredDeniIbrahim.
This timetheclientsimplyexpandedthe fingersofbothhands, justslightly, tosuggest that themiddle-
man’sopinionswerenotbeingsought.
BakVapurwasnojail.Itwasnotaholdingcell,orevenaprison.Itwasawaystationtohell.Twodozen
prisonerswerekeptbyunnamedagenciesinthehullofanabandonedshipinabackwaterofharborsouthof
Constantinople,halfamileoffthepointModa,ontheAsianside,southofHaydarpasa,beyondthelawsof
theHarborMistress.Mossandmoldfringedthegreenishwalls.Brownpuddlesdecoratedfloorswhereno
healthythingcouldlive.Ifithadoncebeenbuiltbyman,nothinghumanyetclungtoit.BakVapurmeant
simply“sunkenboat:”yet itssubtext, the lethalpallorwhichhungoverthenamelikemossonawithered
treebranch,wasdeathitself.DeniIbrahimhadseendebtor’sprisons,whichwerelikeveryshabbyhotels,
wheretowelsandmealsandprivilegescouldbeboughtfromapricelist:thiswasnothinglikethem.Hehad
seen a French penitentiary, a holding cell for beggars and thieves and men of moral slackness awaiting
judgment:thiswasnothinglikethat,forthemiserablebeingsboltedtothesewallshadalreadybeentried
andjudged.Noinstrumentsofpunishmentdecoratedthecells,fortherewerenoexpectationsofinformation
gained,orcorrection:theseprisonerswereexpectedtodie,eitherhereoratthecolonialprisoncampsfrom
whichnonereturned,itmatteredlittle.BakVapurwasaplaceutterlywithouthope.
The client seized the prisoner’s thinner chain—the one directly around his neck—and yanked it with a
brutaltwistofsurprisingforce,causingthemiserablemantoreelandgasp.
“Doyouloveyourfamily,‘Taquin’?”
Thechainwaspulledeventighter.
“Come,brother.Answerwell.Youmaynotlikeme,butImayyetservethee.Imayofferapathoutofthis
hell.”
Theprisonerblinked,unsurehowtotakethisquestion.Anyphenomenonwhichinterruptedhistransitto
theRiverStyxmustbewelcomed:butthisvisit,thisproposition—whateveritwas—camefestoonedwithvery
badsigns.
“Ilovemyfamily.”
“Truly?Howcanawolflikeyouloveanything,oranyone?”
“Theyarenormal,”saidTaquin.“Theyarenotlikeme.”
“Namethem.Nametheirages.”
Taquinragedatthis,cursingbitterly.
Theclient’shenchmandeliveredanotherblowbut,Ibrahimnoted,notablowtoavitalorgan.Notablow
meanttodamagetheprisoner.
TheclientturnedtoDeniIbrahim.
“Twosistersandabrother,”saidthemiddle-man.“InthevillageofKagithane.”Helistedtheirnames.“The
youngestisseven,asoflastmonth.”
The prisoner looked at his visitors with a queer expression. “What jest is this?” he growled, and he
unleashedafreshassault,albeitoneseverelylimitedbyhischains.Thehenchmenbeathimintosubmission
withaknottedrope
“Hewilldo,”saidtheclient.“Yes,Ibelievehewilldo…”
Deni Ibrahimtookakerchief fromhispocket.Carefully,heunwrappedfromthe layersofcloth…asmall
painting.ItwasportraitwhichhadbeenpaintedofPrinceMahmoudthatverysummer:heappearedhappy,
hisbrightteethshowinginanaturalsmile,his longcurls freshlygroomed,proudlywearinghis finestred
jacket.
Theprisonerlookedattheframedportrait,thenbackattheclient.
Threedayslater,atattoogatheredsunlight.
ThetattoowasofaChinesecompass,adesignofacircleinasquare,tintedinmagenta,withalinecutting
throughboth.
Thetattoodecoratedawrist,andthewristrestedonanavigator’sledgeronthesunnydeckofaship.
ThedeckwasthatofaGermanfrigate,Jungfrau,andthedeckshiveredslightlyastheshippassedbeneath
thePillarsofHercules.
TheJungfrau,lateoftheportofNaples,keeledslightlyinthenewwind.Herwallofsailscaughtoneofthe
Moroccanbreezes,oneofthosepowerfulwindsoriginatingdeepalongAfrica’swesterncoast,oneofthose
sultrywindsthataereatetheStraitsofGibraltar.Theship’shullknifedthroughthewatercleanly,pickingup
speedassheroundedthepromontoryandsweptnorthward.
Ahandcoveredthetattoooverwiththelongsleeveofatunic.
ThehandchartedtheJungfrau’scoursethroughtheNorthAtlanticonnavigationalcharts.
ShewasboundacrossthegreatAtlanticforNewfoundland,stoppingfirstinCharleston,thenBoston.
Cynthianahadbeencorrect.Mahmoudhadgonedirectlysouth,tothecrowded,villainousportofErdek,
and from theregainedpassageonamailboat toAlexandria.Hehad thenmoved toCairobycaravan, to
confound any pursuers, and left that port bound for Naples on a trawler. He had found the Jungfrau in
Naples,readytoleaveforAmerica,inneedofanavigator’smate.
Amiledueeastwardof theship’sdeckwhereMahmudsat in thesun,across thebluecoastalwaters,a
horsesnortedandpulledupinacloudofdust.
Horse and rider had come down from the point at a fast pace, rounding Windmill Hill on Gibraltar’s
easternshoreandracingpastthelighthouseaboveBleakBeach.
TheridercouldseetheJungfrau,andracedtocatchher.
ThehorsewasanAndalusian.HehadbalkedthereonthedirtroadontheGibraltarperimeterbecausehis
riderwantedhimtorunatfullspeeddownthesteepgrade.
Thehorseman,whowasunknowntothehorse,urgedthesteedtogofaster.ButAndalusiansareknownfor
their speed because they are nimble, not stupid. The horse refused to run down that steep a grade, and
wouldnotmoveatalluntil the riderallowed fora slowcanter, in traversepatterns,down theslope.The
horsepicked itswaysafely, ignoring therider’s loudoathsandurgentbegging.This riderwasnothing to
him.NorwillAndalusiansbebullied:eachtimeakneebruisedhisside,thehorsestoppedaltogether.
OffGibraltar’seasternshore,theJungfrau’ssailsbillowed,anditscrewpulledthemtight,tocatchevery
wispofthestrongAfricanwind.
Nonecouldcatchhernow.