Andy stared, hiccupped, felt the feathers in his turban and said in hurt tones, “I’m no wrestler, but the Sultan’s Aga-if only I could lay hands on the Sultan. And all that happened was that evil tongues spread slander about me, persuading Selim ben-Hafs that I’d spat in his bed-which is a black lie as I’ve never so much as seen his bed. This morning Selim came stark naked to the bathhouse to sweat away the opium, and a whole crowd of painted boys came too, to wash him. When he saw me he began to screech for his scimitar. His wife Amina, who was wearing no more than was once customary in Paradise, tried to calm him and at least gain time for me to get my breeches on. But at the sight of her the licentious old man was more rabid than ever. Luckily his pretty boys took to their heels when they saw Amina, so I was able to bar the door and consider what was next to be done. She said I had no choice but to bring the Selim to a better frame of mind by force, so I just took him by the neck with the tips of my fingers, and it broke. My dear Amina was as frightened as myself.”
Andy wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb, but Mustafa ben-Nakir, contemplating his nails, asked, “And then?”
“Then?” Andy rubbed his temples to refresh his memory. “Yes. Well, then the lady Amina said it was the will of Allah, but that for our own good it would be best to say that Selim had slipped on the smooth floor and broken his neck. She then told me that other more important duties awaited her and quickly left the room, promising to send the Aga and the eunuchs as witnesses to what had occurred. The eunuchs laid Selim on the bench, tied his toes together and proclaimed the new sultan, while I took the Aga by the arm and returned with him to the barracks, as it seemed to me I had no business in the house of mourning. I thought him a pleasant fellow, yet in that I must have been mistaken, since so far as I can remember I’ve just killed him.”
He fingered his headdress thoughtfully for a litde, then started and said, “Where was I? Ah, yes. There was trouble over the new sultan, for Selim ben-Hafs had two sons besides Amina’s, and these two were proclaimed sultan simultaneously. The uproar and fighting went on until it was found that Amina had had both the elder boys strangled, and their mother, too, for safety’s sake. When I reproached her for this she asked if I would have preferred to see her and her son strangled; for it seems it is the custom here for the ruler to leave no rival alive. She then hinted broadly that she meant to marry me, so that I might protect her son till he grew up. I’ve nothing whatever against Amina-fine woman-but she’s handier with the noose than I should like any wife of mine to be.”
He began angrily calling for Amina, and was almost too drunk to stand, but Mustafa ben-Nakir had heard enough and rose, saying, “Antar, you’ve done your part, and need rest. There is no sultan but Suleiman, the Sultan of Sultans, and in his name I take possession of this kasbah until the Deliverer comes to reward and punish each man according to his deserts. Slave Michael, take your brother’s sword which he’s not in a condition to wield and strike off Selim’s head, that it may be set on the top of a pillar in a golden dish in the sight of everyone. With him the Hafsid dynasty is at an end; no intriguing women shall rule in this city, and the throne shall remain vacant until the coming of the Deliverer.”
Mustafa spoke in a voice of such authority that I dared not disobey, and grasping Andy’s sword I struck off Selim’s head, disagreeable though the task was. But as I was handing back the weapon a crowd of splendidly dressed eunuchs and black slaves entered the room. In their midst was a boy in a gorgeous kaftan and with far too large a turban on his head. He tripped over the long kaftan as he walked, and held his mother by the hand.
Andy, looking much ashamed, greeted this woman by the name of Amina. When she saw the state he was in she forgot to veil herself, stamped, and screamed, “I ought never to have trusted one of the uncircumcised! Where is the treasure chest? Why don’t the soldiers proclaim my son sultan? And how could you allow my lord’s body to be thus desecrated? The best thing I could do would be to have your throat cut, since you use it only to defile it in defiance of the Prophet’s law.”
“B-blessed be his name,” stammered Andy, swaying and hiccupping, while I stood nonplussed with Selim’s head still in my hand; the infuriated woman snatched off her red slipper and began beating Andy over the head with it, until the Aga’s turban fell off. I hardly know how it would have ended had not Mustafa ben-Nakir stepped forward, jingling the bells at his girdle, and cried, “Veil your face, shameless woman, and take your bastard back to the harem! We have nothing to say to you, and Allah will punish you for thus treating a man who has done you and your son far greater service than you deserve.”
His demeanor was so proud and commanding that the woman recoiled and said, “Who are you, fair youth, and how dare you use that tone to me, the mother of the ruling sultan?”
“I am Mustafa ben-Nakir, son of the angel of death. My task is to see that each is rewarded after his deserts.” Turning to the eunuchs he said, “Take the woman back to the harem, and let this drunken swine sleep it off in some obscure corner. Then fetch a kaftan befitting my rank, so that I may take command of the city until the coming of the Deliverer. And do all this more swiftly than I can find an appropriate gazel, or many of you will find yourselves a head shorter.”
He turned his back on Amina, opened his book, and began reading aloud to himself in his musical voice, so impressively that none dared to question or disturb him, but obeyed his orders. I was greatly relieved to find amid the general confusion at least one man who knew his own mind. But my great natural curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “What manner of man are you, Mustafa ben-Nakir, that all obey you?”
He smiled and bent his head.
“I but follow the impulses of my heart, which tomorrow may lead me out into the wilderness. Perhaps men obey me because I’m freer than others-so free that I care not whether they obey me or not.”
The eunuchs soon returned with splendid clothes, which they helped Mustafa ben-Nakir to put on. They shod him with jeweled slippers and girded a bright sword about his waist; lastly he set upon his well- groomed locks the Aga’s turban. He bade me put Selim ben-Hafs’s head on the golden dish, which the eunuchs brought at his order, and then with his hand to his mouth he yawned slightly and said, “The money will soon have been distributed among the men, and it will be wise to keep them occupied. I fancy nothing will answer the purpose so well as attacking the Spaniards. I must therefore send a Latin- speaking envoy to their fortress to demand compensation for all the damage they’ve done. If they refuse, they must be told that the new sultan will not tolerate their behavior, and must summon Khaireddin to his support. This will give us time to take the guns down to the harbor. But if you have a better plan, Michael, speak freely.”
“Whom do you mean by the sultan?” I objected. “Is little Mohammed ben-Hafs the lawful sultan of Algiers?”
“Ah,” he replied, suppressing another yawn, “we believe in Allah though we haven’t seen him; why should the Spaniards doubt the existence of a sultan whom they’ve never beheld? Speak to them of this invisible sultan, and let that suffice them.”
“Allah, Allah!” I gasped. “You can’t mean to send me? Spaniards are cruel men, and even if they leave the head on my shoulders they’re likely to remove my nose and ears.”