Shadow of God (18 page)

“Please, Doctor, feel at ease, speak truthfully with me. You are not in danger. My family has depended upon your family for our lives, have we not? I would have us continue in such a mutually rewarding friendship. Come. Tell me what advice you have for me, that I may rule with wisdom; that I might help your people as well.”

Hamon thought for a moment. Then, he looked directly into the Sultan’s eyes and spoke. “Majesty, what you say is true. My people have found a home within your empire that we had never dreamed of. We came here with only our skills and knowledge, and were accepted into your world. It has not been easy, but we have not asked for an easy road. Only one that we might travel with hard work and diligence. The taxes we pay for the right to practice our religion is a value beyond measure. In Spain and Portugal, we prayed in cellars, in secret. The penalty for discovery while talking to God was death. A cruel and painful death, at that. Now we follow our own religion in the midst of Islam, and we are by-and-large left in peace. Our taxes exempt us from military service as well, and that too is a blessing for us, so that we might follow our own choice of profession. We have never been a warlike people.”

“We have no need for conscripts from your people, Doctor. My armies are more than filled with the tribute children of the
Devshirmé
.”

“If I had to ask for anything from you, it would be to consider one source of terror that still pervades the lives of my people.”

“And that is…?”

“The Blood Libels, Majesty. From time to time, my people have been accused of the crime of ritual murder; usually accused by Christians, I might add. There is no truth to these accusations, for murder has no place in Judaism. This problem was addressed by your great-grandfather, Mehmet
Fatih,
when he issued a
firman
requiring that these cases be tried not by governors or judges, but by the Imperial
Divan,
itself. This would free the court from local politics, and I might add, superstition and bigotry against the Jews. But, increasingly, our people have been tried in local courts, by justices easily influenced by the people they serve. Majesty, would you consider reissuing
the firman
of your great-grandfather, thus giving royal teeth to the law that is now being honored in the breach?”

“This seems reasonable, Doctor. My position as leader of the Empire must rest upon a system of justice that reaches all my subjects. If the Christians are propagating Blood Libels against
any
of your people, whether here in the City or in the provinces, they will be stopped. Your people will have the protection of my court. Remember that when cases are heard in the Imperial
Divan,
whether I am in the room or not,
my
will rules. It will be done as you have asked.”

Hamon bowed his head, and said, “Thank you, Majesty. That will be a great gift, indeed.”

Kanuni,
the Lawgiver, nodded his assent, and Moses Hamon backed out of the room.

Before convening the
Divan,
Suleiman went to morning prayers at Aya Sophia. In the great mosque, he sat on a small balcony above the throngs of people. The Janissaries tried to remain discreetly hidden, but their presence was felt. Armed men among the Faithful were evident. After the prayers were finished, the reader stood near Suleiman, turning his body and his voice toward the Sultan. In his right hand he held a sword, and in the left the
Qur’an.
Upon seeing the raised sword, the closest of the Janissaries moved nearer the Sultan. Though he made no overt motions, he placed himself between
the reader and the body of Suleiman. Then, the sword ceased to be a threat. With both the sword and the
Qur’an
held aloft, the reader began to intone a prayer. “The mercy of Allah, all pitying, all compassionate, be upon the Sultan of Sultans, the Ruler of Rulers, the Shadow of God on Earth, and dispenser of crowns upon Earth, Lord of the Two Worlds, Lord of the White Sea, and the Black Sea; Sultan Suleiman Khan, son of Sultan Selim Khan.” The huge congregation knelt on their prayer mats, foreheads pressed to the floor, and prayed together.

When the prayers were finished, Suleiman rose to leave. The guards kept the crowd in place as the Sultan left the mosque. He walked to his horse and mounted it as his personal guard held the horse’s reins. Piri Pasha rode silently on the Sultan’s left.

The crowd was always huge and overjoyed to see the Sultan so close up. Suleiman rode with a quiet dignity, his horse well in hand.

Ibrahim rode a few meters behind the Sultan. He smiled to himself at the sight of the ruler of the Ottoman Empire astride this wonderful horse, with its neck arched, muscles rippling beneath his shiny coat, nostrils flared. He wondered if even Suleiman knew why he was able to maintain such easy control over his usually energetic Arabian stallion? Did the Sultan know that the horse had been starved for nearly two days? That the stallion was suspended off the ground all night long, from leather webbing under his abdomen, hauled aloft by ropes and pulleys to keep the animal hanging in the air unable to sleep at all? That the magnificent animal was all but exhausted and could barely make the walk from the palace to the mosque and back? No wonder he was such a docile beast.

Just as he was asking himself these things, Ibrahim saw the Sultan turn and nod his head, smiling to his closest friend and confidant. And Ibrahim flushed, ashamed at keeping even something so trivial from his master.

On the short ride back to the palace, as was his custom, Suleiman distributed thirty-two pieces of gold to people in the crowds that lined the way. Every morning, his servant would place the same number of gold coins into the pocket of his caftan so that the Sultan might make gifts to the people wherever he went.

His rides to and from the mosques, as well as his other ventures into Istanbul, were the only time Suleiman had any contact with his people. His routine behind the palace walls was so insulated from the daily lives of his subjects that he felt a detachment that troubled him. He longed to know how the ordinary Turk lived out his days. On these little journeys into the city, he often ignored Ibrahim so that he could notice what was happening around him. Ibrahim understood just what the Sultan was doing.

On this occasion, as they passed a small market, Suleiman noticed a disturbance taking place to his right. The mounted troops drew nearer to the Sultan, but Suleiman waved them off. Only Piri stayed close to protect his master’s back. A local policeman was in the process of arresting a citizen for drinking a new prohibited drink that had recently arrived in Istanbul from the Arabian Peninsula. The man saw the Sultan’s procession and shouted to Suleiman.

“Help me, my Sultan. You are
Kanuni,
the Lawgiver. Help me, Majesty, for I have committed no crime.”

Suleiman turned his horse and walked slowly toward the man and the policeman. His guard followed close behind, and the crowd gathered to hear their Sultan’s judgment. Whenever the Sultan would stop, large crowds would press closer, making the Janissaries and Sipahis nervous and alert. They hated these unofficial changes in plans, for the situation was always unpredictable. The guards rested their hands lightly on their swords as they moved closer to their master. Suleiman had to motion them out of the way so that he could talk to the two men.

“My Lord, I have done nothing,” the man repeated

Suleiman looked to the policeman. The officer looked very nervous and his face flushed. He let go of the arm of the man he was arresting and bowed low to the Sultan.

“My Sultan, this man has been drinking coffee. It is a corrupt drink. It is called ‘the black enemy of sleep and copulation.’”

“My Lord,” the man interrupted, “there is no law against this drink. I have been told that this drink comes from Mokha, in the land of the Prophet. Indeed, a holy man discovered it. Did
Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah, forbid us this drink? Does the
Qur’an
forbid it?”

Suleiman laughed and said, “A thousand years ago, at the time of the Prophet, there was no coffee. How, then, could the Prophet forbid its use?”

The man shrugged and looked down at the ground.

Suleiman went on, “Do you think that the Prophet of God would sit in the streets and drink coffee?”

Without looking up, the man answered in a barely audible voice, “No, my Sultan. I do not.”

“No, indeed. And should we all not try to follow the path of the Prophet in our daily behavior?”

“Yes, Majesty, we should.”

Suleiman nodded his head again slowly. He paused to think a moment, and then turned to the policeman, who was now looking proud and vindicated.

“Free him!” Suleiman shouted at the startled policeman. Then he turned his horse and rode on toward the palace. Ibrahim spurred his horse and moved up on the right, next to the Sultan. He did not speak. Finally, Suleiman asked, “Well, Ibrahim, have we done justice today? Has
Kanuni
acted with mercy and wisdom?”

“Oh yes, my Lord. That man did not deserve to be imprisoned for drinking coffee. Actually, I, too, have had a taste of it.”

“Have you? And what was it like?”

“I liked it. It did keep me up late at night. But, as to copulation…I can’t see that it hurt anything.”

Suleiman laughed. “Then I see that we shall have to make a very clear ruling on this, lest all my outings turn into a court of appeals.”

When Suleiman entered the
Kubbealti,
the Assembly Room of the Ottoman Council of State, all the members were already waiting. The
divans
that lined the wall were empty, as no one would be seated before the Sultan entered and took his place. The undercurrent of hushed conversation stopped with the Sultan’s first step into the room. The center aisle cleared and the crowd became a tableau frozen in the moment; all the heads were bowed low, all eyes
cast to the ground. The Sultan was joined by Piri Pasha at one elbow, and by his Second Vizier, Mustapha Pasha, at the other. The Viziers accompanied the Sultan to the throne, and then took seats at a level just below him. This was a special meeting, since in addition to the counselors of state, the room was almost completely filled with the Sultan’s military commanders.

Ibrahim sat at his Sultan’s right hand. He sat alone on a
divan
that could have seated three. This was a tacit statement by the military and the council that, though Ibrahim had the ear and the confidence of the Sultan, he was still an outsider.

Suleiman remained quiet for a moment, surveying the room carefully. He had made his own decision regarding Rhodes, and had dispensed wholly with the opinions of the Council of State. Now he wanted only the advice of his generals and Ibrahim on how best to conduct the coming campaign. The faces before him represented all the military might and experience that his empire could muster. These were the men upon whose judgment and strategy he would rely. Suleiman had learned much from his experience at Belgrade. But victory on Rhodes could be his only through the advice of these men.

Piri Pasha sat directly to Suleiman’s left. He was, to his own dismay, still the Grand Vizier. He would rather have been the “recently retired Grand Vizier.” It would now be a long time before he would relax in his tulip garden by the Bosporus, he thought.
This Sultan will have me back to war for certain.
Suleiman looked into the eyes of Piri Pasha. If he sensed his Vizier’s discontent, he made no sign. “I am glad to see you looking well, Piri Pasha. And it pleases me that you will serve as the leader of my government as you did for my father. May Allah grant us continued victories under your banners.”

Piri smiled and nodded to his Sultan. “
Inch’ Allah
.”

Still talking to Piri, Suleiman continued, “May
your
ancestors ride with us into battle, my friend!” Suleiman was referring to the fact that Piri Pasha was a direct descendent of one of the most revered and important people in the history of Islam, Abu Bakr. Piri was a blood relative to the close companion, father-in-law, advisor, and successor to the Prophet, Mohammed.

“My Lord, I hope that I may always ride into battle with you. For few Grand Viziers are privileged to die at the side of their Sultan. Fewer still are blessed to die in the service of Allah, peace be upon His name.”