Part 47 (1/2)
Just as a hard stone emits sparks when it is struck, so Beldi turned suddenly upon the Vizier and said, shaking his chains, ”Thine hour will also strike!”
Then he suffered them to lead him away to prison.
Immediately afterwards, the Grand Vizier sent for the envoys of the Prince, and commending them and those who sent them, gave each of them a new caftan, and with the most gracious a.s.surances sent them back to their native land, where nevertheless Master Farkas Bethlen had never been accounted a very great orator.
In the gates of the Seraglio the dismissed envoys encountered Master Ladislaus Csaky. The worthy gentleman at once perceived from their self-satisfied smiles and the new caftans they were wearing that they had been sent away with a favourable reply; whereupon, notwithstanding that he had already agreed with Paul Beldi to render homage to the French and German Ministers, he did not consider it superfluous to pay his court to Master Farkas Bethlen also, and offer to surrender himself body and soul if the Prince would agree to pardon him and restore his estates.
Farkas Bethlen accepted the proposal and not only promised Csaky an amnesty, but high office to boot if he would separate from Beldi; nay, he rewarded on the spot that gentleman who had thus very wisely fastened the threads of his fate to four several places at the same time, so that if one of them broke he could still hold on to the other three.
”Beldi has ruined his affairs utterly,” said Kucsuk Pasha to his son, as they retired from the Divan; ”I give up every idea of saving him.”
”I don't,” sighed Feriz. ”I'll either save or perish with him.”
”Let us go to Maurocordato, he may perhaps advise us.”
After an hour's interview with Maurocordato, Feriz Beg, with fifty armed Albanian hors.e.m.e.n, took the road towards Grosswardein.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE TURKISH DEATH.
In the gate of the Pasha of Grosswardein, amidst the gaping throng of armed retainers there, could be seen a pale wizened Moslem idly sprawling on the threshold, apparently regardless of everything, but sometimes looking up, cat-like, with half-shut, dreamy eyes, and at such times he would smile craftily to himself.
Suddenly a handsome, chivalrous youth galloped out of the gate before whom the soldiers bowed down to the earth; this was the Pasha's favourite horseman, Feriz Beg, who had just arrived from Stambul.
The Beg, as if he had only by accident caught sight of the sprawling Moslem, turned towards him, tapped him on the shoulder with his lance, and while the latter, feigning ignorance and astonishment, gazed up at him, he drew nearer to him and said:
”What Zulfikar! dost thou not recognise me?”
The person so addressed bowed himself to the earth.
”Allah is gracious! By the soul of the Prophet, is it thou, gracious sir?” and with that he got up and began walking by the side of the horse of the Beg, who beckoned him to follow.
”I have lost a good deal of money and a good many horses over the dice-box at Stambul, Zulfikar,” said Feriz Beg, ”so I have come into these parts to rehabilitate my purse a little. Where dost thou go a-robbing now, Zulfikar?”
”La illah, il Allah! G.o.d is gracious and Mohammed is His holy Prophet,”
said Zulfikar, rolling his eyes heavenwards.
”A truce to this piety, Zulfikar; ye renegades, with unendurable shamelessness, are always glorifying the Prophet, born Turks don't mention him half as much. What I ask thee is, where dost thou go a-plundering now of nights?”
”I thank thee, gracious sir,” answered Zulfikar, making a wooden picture of his face, ”my wife is quite well, and there is nothing amiss with me either.”
”Zulfikar, I value in thee that peculiarity of thine which enables thee to become deaf whenever thou desirest it, but I possess a very good remedy for that evil, and if thou wilt I will cure thee of it.”
Zulfikar dodged the lance which was turned in his direction, and said with a Pharisaical air: