Part 51 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXV.
THE HUSBAND.
At the very hour when Kucsuk Pasha arrived at Stambul, Master Ladislaus Szekely, whom Master Michael Teleki had sent with rich presents to the Porte, likewise dismounted from his carriage. It was his mission to win the favour of the infuriated Grand Vizier and the Pashas, who had again begun violently to urge Paul Beldi to accept the princely throne.
Master Ladislaus Szekely had also brought with him Zulfikar to be his guide and interpreter through the tortuous streets of Stambul.
As we already know, this worthy gentleman's particular hobby was the collection of jewels, and the Prince had sent through him such a heap of precious stones that the heart of the good gentleman when he saw them all spread out before him died away within him at the thought that the whole collection was ruthlessly to be broken up and distributed among a lot of foreigners and Pashas.
”What a shame to lose them all,” he thought. ”And even then who knows whether we shall be safe after all. It is like casting pearls before swine. A much quicker way would be to get Master Paul Beldi a.s.sa.s.sinated. That would be cutting the knot once for all, and we should have no further danger from that quarter. Michael Teleki wouldn't kill me for a trifle like that, I know. You, Zulfikar, my son, could you undertake to poison someone?” he inquired, turning towards the renegade.
”The whole town if you like.”
”No, only Master Paul Beldi. It is all one to him whether he dies or remains a prisoner for life.”
”I'll do it for two hundred ducats, if you pay me half in advance.”
”I'll pay you, Zulfikar, but how will you get at him?”
”That's my affair, all you have to do is to get the money ready.”
Accordingly Ladislaus Szekely gave the earnest-money to the renegade, and the renegade went home and wrote a letter in the name of the Beglerleg of the following tenour: ”Be a.s.sured that our affairs are in the best order, and we shall shortly gain our object.”
He strewed over these lines a fine blue dust which was the strongest of poisons, calculating that whoever wanted to read the letter would first brush the dust off it, whereupon the fine dust would rise in the air, and the person reading the letter would inhale the dust and die.
After attaching the letter to his turban, he began prowling round the dungeon of Paul Beldi, awaiting an opportunity of worming his way into it.
Paul Beldi was sitting alone in the darkest corner of the dungeon of Jedikula. At his feet lay his faithful bloodhound, Kortovely, with his eyes fixed sadly on his master. Whenever his master slept the dog would sit up, never take his eyes off him, and begin growling at the lightest noise.
Beldi, with folded arms, was sitting on the stone bench to which he was chained. His face had grown terribly pale and as if turned to stone. The pale gleam of light which filtered through the narrow window and lit up his face, found there no trace of that weary longing which the dweller in prisons generally has for the sun's rays. The whole man, body and soul, was hardened into steel.
Suddenly the dog lying at his feet impatiently raised its sagacious head, and then with a whimper of joy ran towards the door; there it stood for a time merrily barking, and then ran back to its master and stood before him wagging its tail with one foot on his shoulder, whining and whimpering with such lively joy that one might almost have understood what it wanted to say.
”What's the matter? Good dog!” said Beldi, stroking the dog's head.
”What is it? n.o.body's coming to see me that can make you happy.”
At that moment the key turned in the door of the dungeon and a group of men by the light of torches descended the steps and entered Beldi's prison; whereupon Kortovely quickly left his master and burrowing his way through the throng, began to yelp merrily over someone, and then rus.h.i.+ng back to his master, planted his fore-paws on his breast and barked as if he would burst because he could not express more plainly the joy which his wonderful canine instinct had antic.i.p.ated.
Beldi, perceiving among those who visited him the Grand Vizier, Kiuprile, and Maurocordato, ordered his dog to be quiet, and standing up before them, saluted them with a deep bow.
”Well, thou obstinate man!” said the Grand Vizier, ”how long wilt thou torment thyself and offend the Sultan and thine own good friends? Wilt thou ever perceive that to sit on a stone bench in a damp dungeon is a very different thing to sitting on a princely throne?”
”The more I suffer,” said Beldi, in a strangely calm voice, ”the more reason I have to rejoice that my country does not suffer instead of me.”
The Grand Vizier thereupon said something in Turkish which Maurocordato sadly interpreted: ”The Grand Seignior informs thee that because of money thou hast been cast into prison, and only money can release thee; promise, therefore, two hundred and seventy purses, and thou shalt get the Princ.i.p.ality to enable thee to pay it.”
”I have told you my determination,” said Beldi, ”and I will not depart from it. I will not promise money to the detriment of my country. I will not lead an army against it, and I will not break my oath. These were and will be my words from which I can never depart.”