Shadow of God (7 page)

But, Hamon’s mind could not focus on the details of his new book. Instead, he churned over and over the possibilities of his future under the new Sultan. Selim was dead, and surely Suleiman would ascend to the throne without opposition. Life had been difficult as the personal physician to Selim. But, then again, it was not as difficult as it was for the Grand Vizier. At least there had not been a tradition of killing the court physician. Perhaps Selim had been afraid that he might need the skill and knowledge of the doctor, and was afraid to try a new, untested one. In a world where medicine at its best could cure very few illnesses, even the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire might not want to tempt fate.

The Hamons had fared well after Moses’s father, Joseph, had come to Istanbul during the Spanish Inquisition. The Jewish population of the city blended easily into Muslim society. Their roles as merchants, artisans, and professionals made a contribution that far
exceeded their numbers when compared to the other non-Muslim subjects of the Sultan. They slowly integrated themselves into the important functions of everyday life.

There had already been a tradition of non-Muslims rising to positions of power, as had the Viziers, who were mostly foreigners captured and educated by the state. The
Devshirmé—
the slave levy—provided not only a ready supply of soldiers, but of a whole class of upper-level officials as well. Every few years, emissaries of the Sultan would go out into the country and forcibly draft the young boys of Christian families, but never taking an only son. These children were brought to Istanbul where they were converted to Islam, educated, and trained. Each child was exhaustively tested to determine his particular gifts. Most of the ordinary boys were taken into the military and trained as Janissaries—or
yeni cheri—
the “young troops.” Others filled more sedentary roles in the Palace. The smartest and most ambitious would enter the civil service and could, with diligence and hard work, rise to positions of great power. Indeed, the Grand Viziers themselves, without exception, were Christian converts drafted into the
Devshirmé
. This was in stark contrast to Europe, where one’s birth determined one’s position in later life. The Ottoman Empire was a true meritocracy.

So it was for the wave of Jewish immigrants who had been driven from Europe by the Inquisition and from the increasing levels of violent anti-Semitism that were permeating the continent. Many of the Jewish bankers had managed to bring some of their capital when they left Spain. The artists brought their skills, and the merchants reopened their shops.

As for the Muslim Sultans, they were quite willing to accept this new immigration for the good it brought to their society. Islam had a place for the
dhimmi
, “the People of the Book.” Islam, Christianity, and Judaism were monotheistic religions, and shared the same god and many of the same prophets. Moses and Jesus were both revered as teachers by the Muslims. All three religions had strict laws that governed the conduct of society. The Ten Commandments were followed by both Christians and Jews, while the
Qur’an
set out the rules by which a good Muslim should guide his life. Muslims and
Jews circumcised their young sons, following Abraham’s covenant with God. Neither religion permitted the consumption of the meat of pigs or camels.

Certain specific freedoms were granted to all the non-Muslims within the realm. They could own property. They could practice their religions freely as long as they paid the required religious tax.

With these freedoms came certain restrictions. They could not build new churches or synagogues. In legal matters, evidence given by a non-Muslin could not be accepted against the word of a Muslim. A Muslim could be punished, but could not be put to death, for killing a non-Muslim. Non-Muslims could not carry weapons or ride horses. But, the most egregious restraint was the prohibition against certain types of clothing, which publicly singled out the non-Muslim. Non-Muslims could not wear green clothes or white turbans. In some circumstances, they were required to wear only purple garments and purple shoes to mark them from the rest of society.

So, while the Jews and Christians of the Ottoman Empire were the Protected People, the
dhimmi,
they lived somewhat restricted lives. They paid a tribute, or tax, for the privilege of living within the empire. Idolaters, on the other hand, people who had
not
received a divinely revealed scripture, had to either accept Islam or be put to death. They were not
dhimmi.
When Hamon compared the plight of his people in Spain and on the rest of the European continent, he looked upon life under the Muslims as a gift from God.

Hamon thought about Suleiman, the heir to the throne. He had had very little contact with the young prince. Selim wanted his own doctor nearby, and Suleiman spent almost all of his youth learning the lessons of governing in the far-off provinces. Rumors at the palace were that he had become a fine young man, and that at twenty-five he was known for his scholarship, poetry and an even-handedness in dispensing justice. Yes, Hammon thought, life might even improve now that Selim
Yavuz
was dead.

Why had Piri Pasha been so worried?
Hamon wondered. Why was it necessary to keep the death of Selim a secret for so many days? Surely, the Janissaries would remain loyal. They had loved Selim, of course, for the continuous military campaigns and the booty they
brought. Hamon had hated the constant trips to the battlefield. He hated being taken from his family in Istanbul. His son, Joseph, named after the boy’s grandfather, was in his teens, that age when he needed his father’s guidance and presence. The boy would become a doctor, of course, as all the Hamons before him. With luck and his father’s reputation to help him, Joseph, too, might rise to the post of court physician. He could become the doctor for Suleiman and for Suleiman’s son. The dynasty of Hamon doctors could flourish alongside the dynasty of the Ottomans.
Why not?
he thought with a visible shrug of the shoulders.

Moses Hamon carefully closed his treasured anatomy book and wrapped it in heavy cloth. He put it into his travel chest and shut the lock. As he looked about the tent for any other belongings that were not packed by his servants, he heard the
muezzin
call the faithful of Islam to prayer. He pictured in his mind the many people all over the empire who were now getting ready to face the holy city of Mecca and kneel down upon their prayer mats. From every direction, Arabic words would rise into the air and affirm their most cherished belief.
There is no God but God, and Muhammad is His Prophet.

Hamon stood alone in his tent surrounded by the sounds of the praying Muslim soldiers. Listening to the voices on all sides, he removed his phylacteries from their embroidered blue silk pouch. He placed the small, wooden cube containing the inscriptions from Deuteronomy against his forehead, and carefully wound the long leather thongs around his head to hold it in place. He attached the second cube to his left biceps and wound the leather thongs around his forearm and hand. Then, looking straight ahead into nothingness, and surrounded by the voices of the Faithful, he said, “
Shemah Yisrael, Adonoi eloheynu. Adonoi echod.”
Hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.

Piri Pasha decided to depart under the cover of darkness. He needed all the lead time he could muster. He knew that his body could not take the pounding of the hard ride ahead as it once could; as it had done so many times on so many missions for his Sultan.

He went to his
serai
, and sent his servants to fetch a heavy robe to cover his uniform. This he folded carefully and put into his saddle bag. Next he had food and water brought to him, some of which was packed for travel. The rest he hastily consumed in the tent while he dressed. He moved out to where his guards had brought his best horse. He took the reins and mounted quickly without help. His uniform was clean and ready for the journey. He would change into his disguise as soon as he was out of sight of the camp.

Piri motioned to the guard to step aside, and slowly walked the horse through the encampment. He greeted the Janissaries with a solemn face as befit a Grand Vizier who had just lost his master. Then, he silently moved to the edge the camp, continuing over the nearby hills. He rode for less than twenty minutes, until he was sure that he was well beyond the sight of his outermost guards. He dismounted and unpacked the robes from the saddlebags. Piri quickly changed, and was soon up upon his mount once more. He dug his heels into the horse’s side, and cried, “Hut! Hut! Hut!” The horse accelerated from standing to a gallop in a single step, and Piri Pasha leaned into the beast’s neck. He held his knees tight against the saddle leather and steered the horse toward the City. Toward Istanbul.

The road was gentle as he started his long ride, but he was unused to riding alone. For so many years, when he rode out at night, his way was lit with the torches of a hundred horsemen, making his path as bright as the day. Now, he moved into the approaching darkness, knowing he would have to slow his pace or lose his way in the night. Worse still, his horse might stumble and fall, and Piri Pasha, himself, might be injured; might not be there to pass the Sword of the House of Osman to the Son of Selim.

As midnight approached, the old Pasha began to feel his age. His horse was strong and moved with the power that was legendary in these Arabian stallions. But, the gait was irregular, and the seat uncomfortable for the Pasha. This was a ride for a younger man and for younger bones. His thighs had ached for hours from the effort of squeezing the horse’s sides to maintain his balance. Now he could barely feel his legs at all. His back was pounded by the horse’s gait. His neck muscles knotted in spasm from the awkward position
required of it. He could get comfortable neither at a trot nor at the lope; and a long gallop was out of the question for both him and the horse.

So, Piri Pasha pressed on, pain dominating his mind, along with the agony of realizing that he had covered only a fraction of his journey in the first night of what would now certainly be at least a four-day ride. He kept the reins tight, and satisfied himself that,
Inch’ Allah,
he and his Sultan would arrive safely at the Tomb of Ayyüb together.

Abdullah covered the ground between Edirne and the coast in just over twenty-two hours. He had reached the ferry at dark on the next night after leaving the camp.

At the water’s edge, the ferryman was mooring his craft to the European shore. He had just packed his few possessions and his day’s meager earnings into a cloth bag. He was looking forward to a warm meal and a few hours sleep before beginning to work again before dawn.

He was walking wearily up the slope of the embankment when the Sipahi came riding hard down the same slope. His horse was lathered and covered with mud, as was the Sipahi himself. The ferryman looked up in fear as the young rider bore down upon him. He dropped his sack to the ground and turned to run for whatever cover he could find. Abdullah closed on the running man. He brought his horse up short as the man stumbled in his flight and fell sprawling to the ground.

“Get thee back to your post, old man, I will cross this water at once.”

The old man remained sprawled upon the ground. He craned his neck to look up at the rider. “But, it is after dark, sir, and dangerous to be out there in the night. I cannot see, and there is no moon, and I…”

“Enough! I am the Sultan’s Sipahi, and we will cross at once!”

The old man was about to protest again, but he looked into the eyes of the young man towering over him on this powerful agitated horse. “Yes, sir. At once.
Inch’ Allah.”

Abdullah dismounted and walked his horse down to the water’s edge, while the ferryman unmoored his boat. As they crossed the narrowest point of the Dardanelles in the darkness, a distance of less than a mile, the Sipahi dozed. They made landfall on the Asian side in very good time. The Sipahi rose into the saddle as soon as the ferry scraped the sand and rock on the Asian shore. He threw the old man a gold coin from his purse. It was worth a thousand ferry rides, at least. “Allah be with you, my friend.”