It was already October when, with straining oars and spread sails, we glided upstream through the fortified straits leading into the Sea of Marmara. The hazy yellow heights to the eastward rose fom the Asiatic mainland, while to the west lay that part of Europe which in bygone days had belonged to Greece, but which the Ottomans afterward conquered. Somewhere in this region lay the ruins of Troy, the city of which Homer sang, and here, too, Alexander the Great was buried. I stood on deck and surveyed the gliding shores, thinking of old tales and of the many peoples who had sailed through this channel between the two halves of the world, in search of fortune.
Giulia complained of the hardships of the voyage, and expressed a longing for fresh water and fruit and a proper bath. And indeed after our long period at sea a most abominable stench prevailed aboard our handsomely painted vessel. We put in at a little place near the mouth of the straits and lay there for two days and nights, while we cleansed ourselves and our ship. Long pennants floated in the wind and rich carpets hung over the rail as, to the sound of drums and tambourines, we weighed anchor and with long oar strokes headed toward Turkish Istanbul-once Constantinople, the fabled city of Byzantium.
The weather next day was glorious. The blue hills of the Prince’s Islands rose from the embrace of the sea, while far in the distance the city of the emperors shone toward us like a dream of white and gold. As oars and sails brought us ever nearer to our goal, more prosaic details emerged. We saw the high, gray walls lining the shore, and the colorful houses seemingly fused together in masses on the slopes. When we had passed the Fort of the Seven Towers our eyes fell upon the Sophia mosque, once the most wonderful church in Christendom, whose mighty dome and minarets still dominated the great city. Behind it on the point, surrounded by the lush green of gardens, lay the numberless dazzling buildings of the Seraglio, marked by the towers that flanked the Gateway of Peace. Opposite the Seraglio, on the other side of the Golden Horn, were the slopes of Pera and the foreigners’ quarter beneath the tower of Galata, with its floating standard-the Lion of St. Mark.
As we glided past Seraglio Point and the Sultan’s marble quay we fired a salute, but the din of it was borne away by the wind. We had sent word of our coming, however, and our salvo was acknowledged by three shots from the cannon on the point. A French vessel anchored in the roads also fired hastily in reply, from which we concluded that King Francis must indeed be in trouble, or his ships would not have deigned to salute a vessel belonging to the pirate king Khaireddin. Our reception was nevertheless devoid of ceremony, and I think that all of us, whatever our rank, were oppressed by a sense of our own insignificance here in the Sultan’s capital.
The turbaned dock laborers cursed and swore at their toil. Only very slowly could we ease our way through the dense shipping to our own berth, where we hove out the anchor astern and made fast by the bows. Before us rose countless warehouses, and beyond them the high, crenelated walls of the harbor quarter. No one heeded us or bade us welcome, and I felt like a rustic come to town for the first time. Captain Torgut evidently felt as I did, for when he had donned his best clothes and a jeweled sword, and had waited for a long time on the quarterdeck, his face darkened and without a word he retired into his cabin.
To my regret Khaireddin had chosen Torgut-reis as his emissary to the High Porte, for Torgut was the youngest and handsomest of his officers; his proud manhood and his taciturnity made a strong impression on those who met him for the first time and knew nothing of his limitations. He was the son of an Anatolian robber and therefore of purely Turkish origin. Khaireddin knew he could trust him, for there was no room in his head for anything but ships and seafaring, fighting and fine clothes. To advise him in matters connected with court intrigue Khaireddin had sent with him an experienced eunuch who had belonged to Selim ben-Hafs. The fellow was corrupt and untrustworthy, but Torgut had been authorized to behead him if necessary, and in these circumstances Khaireddin considered he might be useful; he hoped he might gather information from the eunuchs of the Seraglio, since these persons readily make one another’s acquaintance and confide in one another more freely than they do in uncastrated men.
We had been waiting impatiently all day when one of the white slaves of the Seraglio suddenly appeared, riding a mule and attended by a large party of janissaries. He bade us welcome, promised to leave us some janissaries as guards, and told us that the Divan might attend to Khaireddin’s letters within the next few weeks, if Allah so permitted.
Torgut-reis was incensed by the messenger’s discourtesy and replied sharply that if such were the case he would cast off at once and return with all the rich presents to Algeria. His face crimsoned with anger as he cried that Khaireddin owed the Sultan nothing, and that on the contrary the Sultan was greatly in Khaireddin’s debt for the conquest of a new province and the harassing of the Emperor. Torgut did not mean to wait like a beggar at the rich man’s door, and nothing need prevent Khaireddin from omitting the Sultan’s name from the Friday prayers in the mosques.
The eunuch no doubt marveled in his own mind at Torgut’s uncontrolled behavior. However, he bowed repeatedly, declaring that it was a great honor to appear before the Divan at all, and that ambassadors from the Emperor and from the Emperor’s brother, the King of Vienna, had sometimes to wait for months before gaining an audience. They might even be locked up and have to spend their time of waiting in the cells of the Fort of the Seven Towers. But as for us, the eunuch promised-rubbing finger and thumb together abstractedly-he would put at our disposal a house befitting our dignity and a grant for our maintenance while in Istanbul.
There was nothing for it but to give him a little foretaste of the treasure that Khaireddin had sent. When he had gone, the janissaries settled down on deck and on the quay. Taking off their tall felt caps they began to plait their lock of hair, keeping a sharp lookout to see that no unauthorized person came aboard and that none of us went ashore. These blue-clad warriors, with their long mustaches and sharp chins, kept their heads shaven save for one long lock on top of their heads, so that if the worst befell them their victors need not pierce their ears but could conveniently carry their severed heads by the hair. We realized that we were prisoners, and Torgut perceived too late the mistake he had made in not sending a trustworthy man to call secretly on the Grand Vizier. To prevent bloodshed in the Sultan’s capital, the carrying of arms was forbidden, and the janissaries were armed only with rods of Indian bamboo; nevertheless Torgut believed our situation would hardly be improved by offering violence to the people of the Seraglio.
When from the balconies of the minarets the muezzins proclaimed the hour of evening prayer, we were sitting together dejectedly in Torgut’s cabin and did not even raise our heads from our hands. Dusk erased the yellow, red, gray, and purple colors of the buildings in which countless tiny flames were kindled so that one could appreciate even more clearly the vast extent of this city. Beyond the Golden Horn blazed the foundry fires in the Sultan’s arsenal, whence came the ceaseless sound of hammering. The eunuch told us that this noise usually boded war, and it might therefore be surmised that the Sultan had more important matters to think of than ourselves and our gifts.
But Abu el-Kasim said, “Even though the Mohammedan part of the city is closed to us, the Venetian quarter is open and there should be no difficulty in finding a boatman willing to ferry us across. From what I know of the Venetians they keep late hours, and an astute man could gather useful information about the customs of this city by searching the taverns for a sufficiently exalted-and inebriated-personage. Michael el-Hakim can still pass for a Christian, and if Antar will only promise to keep sober he may go with him as bodyguard.”