Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don鈥檛 realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Halil the Pedlar: A Tale of Old Stambul by M贸r J贸kai (lightweight ebook reader .TXT) 馃摉
- Author: M贸r J贸kai
Book online 芦Halil the Pedlar: A Tale of Old Stambul by M贸r J贸kai (lightweight ebook reader .TXT) 馃摉禄. Author M贸r J贸kai
"At last they came to a definite decision concerning this slave-girl, it was resolved to sell her by public auction in the bazaars鈥攖o sell her as a common slave to the highest bidder. And so Irene fell to a poor hawker who gave his all for her. For a whole month this man left his slave-girl untouched, and the girl who could not be subdued by torture, nor the blandishments of great men, nor by treasures, nor by ardent desire, became very fond of the poor costermonger, and no longer became as one dead when his burning lips were impressed upon her face."
And with that G眉l-Bej谩ze embraced her husband and kissed him again and again, and smiled upon him with her large radiant eyes.
"A very pretty story truly!" observed Musli, smacking his lips; "what a pity there is not more of it!"[Pg 94]
"Oh, no regrets, worthy Mussulman, there is more of it!" cried the Berber-Bashi, rising from his place; "just listen to the sequel of it! Having had the girl sold by auction in the bazaar, the Padishah bade Ali Kermesh, his trusty Berber-Bashi, make inquiries and see what happened to the damsel after the sale. Now the Berber-Bashi knew that the girl had only pretended to faint, and the Berber-Bashi brought the girl back to the Seraglio before she had spent a single night alone with her husband. For I am the Berber-Bashi and thou art G眉l-Bej谩ze, that same slave-girl going by the name of Irene who feigned to be dead."
Everyone present leaped in terror to his feet except Janaki, who fell down on his knees before the Berber-Bashi, embraced his knees, and implored him to treat all that the girl had said as if he had not heard it.
"We are lost!" whispered the bloodless G眉l-Bej谩ze. The intoxication of joy and wine had suddenly left her and she was sober once more.
Janaki implored, Musli cursed and swore, but Halil spake never a word. He held his wife tightly embraced in his arms and he thought within himself, I would rather allow my hand to be chopped off than let her go.
Janaki promised money and loads of treasure to[Pg 95] Ali Kermesh if only he would hold his tongue, say nothing of what had happened, and let the girl remain with her husband.
But the Berber-Bashi was inexorable.
"No," said he, "I will take away the girl, and your treasures also shall be mine. Ye are the children of Death; yea, all of you who are now drawing the breath of life in this house, for to have heard the secret that this slave-girl has blabbed out is sufficient to kill anyone thrice over. I command you, Irene, to take up your veil and follow me, and you others must remain here till the Debedzik with the cord comes to fetch you also."
With these words he cast Janaki from him, approached the damsel and seized her hand. Halil never once relaxed his embrace.
"Come with me!"
"Blessed Mary! Blessed Mary!" moaned the girl.
"Your guardian saints are powerless to help you now, for your husband's lips have touched you; come with me!"
Then only did Halil speak. His voice was so deep, gruff, and stern, that those who heard it scarce recognised it for his:
"Leave go of my wife, Ali Kermesh!" cried he.[Pg 96]
"Silence thou dog! in another hour thou wilt be hanging up before thine own gate."
"Once more I ask you鈥攍eave go of my wife, Ali Kermesh!"
Instead of answering, the Berber-Bashi would, with one hand, have torn the wife from her husband's bosom while he clutched hold of Halil with the other, whereupon Halil brought down his fist so heavily on the skull of the Berber-Bashi that he instantly collapsed without uttering a single word.
"What have you done?" cried Janaki in terror. "You have killed the chief barber of the Sultan!"
"Yes, I rather fancy I have," replied Halil coolly.
Musli rushed towards the prostrate form of Ali Kermesh, felt him all over very carefully, and then turned towards the hearth where the others were sitting.
"Dead he is, there is no doubt about it. He's as dead as a door-nail. Well, Halil, that was a fine blow of yours I must say. By the Prophet! one does not see a blow like that every day. With your bare hand too! To kill a man with nothing but your empty fist! If a cannon-ball had knocked him over he could not be deader than he is."
"But what shall we do now?" cried Janaki, looking around him with tremulous terror. "The Sultan is sure to send and make inquiries about his lost Berber-[Pg 97]Bashi. It is known that he came here in disguise. The affair cannot long remain hidden."
"There is no occasion to fear anything," said Musli reassuringly. "Good counsel is cheap. We can easily find a way out of it. Before the business comes to light, we will go to the Etmeidan and join the Janissaries. There let them send and fetch us if they dare, for we shall be in a perfectly safe place anyhow. Why, don't you remember that only last year the rebel, Esref Khan, whom the Padishah had been pursuing to the death, even in foreign lands, hit, at last, upon the idea of resorting to the Janissaries, and was safer against the fatal silken cord here, in the very midst of Stambul, than if he had fled all the way to the Isle of Rhodes for refuge. Let us all become Janissaries, I and you and Janaki also."
But Janaki kicked vigorously against the proposition.
"You two may go over to the Janissaries if you like, but in the meantime my daughter and I will make our escape to the Isle of Tenedos and there await tidings of you. One jar of dates I will take with me, the other you may divide among the Janissaries; it will put them in a good humour and make them receive you more amicably."
Halil embraced his wife, kissed her, and wept over her. There was not much time for leave-taking.[Pg 98] The Debedjis who had accompanied the Berber-Bashi were beginning to grow impatient at the prolonged absence of their master; they could be heard stamping about around the door.
"Hasten, hasten! we can have too much of this hugging and kissing," whispered Musli, lifting one of the jars on to his shoulders.
Yet Halil pressed one more long, long kiss on G眉l-Bej谩ze's trembling cheek.
"By Allah!" said he, "it shall not be long before we see each other again."
And thus their ways parted right and left.
Musli conducted Janaki away in one direction, through a subterranean cellar, whilst Halil fled away across the house-tops, and within a quarter of an hour the pair of them arrived at the Etmeidan.[Pg 99]
[1] Woodcutter.
CHAPTER V. THE CAMP.What a noise, what a commotion in the streets of Stambul! The multitude pours like a stream towards the harbour of the Golden Horn. Young and old stimulate each other with looks of excitement and enthusiasm. They stand together at the corners of the streets in tens and twenties, and tell each other of the great event that has happened. On the Etmeidan, in front of the Seraglio, in the doors of the mosques, the people are swarming, and from street to street they accompany the banner-bearing D眉lbendar, who proclaims to the faithful amidst the flourish of trumpets that Sultan Achmed III. has declared war against Tamasip, Shah of Persia.
Everywhere faces radiant with enthusiasm, everywhere shouts of martial fervour.
From time to time a regiment of Janissaries or a band of Albanian horsemen passes across the street, or escorts the buffaloes that drag after them the long heavy guns on wheeled carriages. The mob in its[Pg 100] thousands follows them along the road leading to Scutari, where the camp has already been pitched. For at last, at any rate, the Padishah is surfeited with so many feasts and illuminations, and after having postponed the raising of the banner of the Prophet, under all sorts of frivolous excuses, from the 18th day of Safer (2nd of September) to the 1st day of Rebusler, and from that day again to the Prophet's birthday ten days later still, the expected, the appointed day is at length drawing near, and the whole host is assembling beneath the walls of Scutari, only awaiting the arrival of the Sultan to take ship at once鈥攖he transports are all ready鈥攁nd hasten to the assistance of the heroic K眉prilizade on the battlefield.
The whole Bosphorus was a living forest planted with a maze of huge masts and spreading sails, and a thousand variegated flags flew and flapped in the morning breeze. The huge line of battle-ships, with their triple decks and their long rows of oars, looked like hundred-eyed sea-monsters swimming with hundreds of legs on the surface of the water, and the booming reverberation of the thunder of their guns was re-echoed from the broad foreheads of the palaces looking into the Bosphorus.
Everywhere along the sea-front was to be seen an armed multitude; sparkling swords and lances in thousands flash back the rays of the sun. The whole[Pg 101] of the grass plain round about was planted with tents of every hue; white tents for the chief muftis, bright green tents for the viziers, scarlet tents for the kiayaks, dark blue tents for the great officers of state, the Emirs, the Mecca, Medina, and Stambul justiciaries, the Defterdars, and the Nishandji; lilac-coloured tents for the Ulemas, bright blue tents for the M眉deresseks, azure-blue tents for the Ciaus-Agas, and dark green designates the tent of the Emir Alem, the bearer of the sacred standard. And high above them all on a hillock towers the orange-coloured pavilion of the Padishah, with gold and purple hangings, and two and three fold horse-tails planted in front of the entrance.
At sunset yesterday there was not a trace of this vast camp, all night long this city of tents was a-building, and at dawn of day there it stands all ready like the creation of a magician's wand!
The plain is occupied by the Spahis, the finest, smartest horsemen of the whole host; along the sea-front are ranged the topidjis, with their rows and rows of cannons. Other detachments of these gunners are distributed among the various hillocks. On the wings of the host are placed the Albanian cavalry, the Tartars, and the Druses of Horan. The centre of the host belongs of right to the flower, the kernel of the imperial army鈥攖he haughty Janissaries.[Pg 102]
And certainly they seemed to be very well aware that they were the cream of the host, and that therefore it was not lawful for any other division of the army to draw near them, much less mingle with them, unless it were a few delis, whom they permitted to roam up and down their ranks full of crazy exaltation.
The whole host is full of the joy of battle, and if, from time to time, fierce shouts and thunderous murmurings arise from this or that battalion, that only means that they are rejoicing at the tidings of the declaration of war: the war-ships express their satisfaction by loud salvoes.
Sultan Achmed, meanwhile, is engaged in his morning devotions, day by day he punctually observes this pious practice.
The previous night he did not spend in the harem, but shut himself up with his viziers and counsellors in that secret chamber of the Divan, which is roofed over with a golden cupola. Grave were their deliberations, but nobody, except the viziers, knows the result thereof; yet when he issues forth from his prayer-chamber the Kizlar-Aga is already awaiting him there and hands the Sultan a signet-ring.
"Most glorious of Padishahs! the most delicious of women sends thee this ring. Well dost thou know what was beneath this ring. Deadly venom was beneath it. That venom is no longer there. The[Pg 103] Sultana Asseki sends thee her greeting, and wishes thee good luck in this war of thine. 'Hail to thee!' she says, 'may thy guardian angels watch over all thy steps!' The Sultana meanwhile has locked herself up in her private apartments, and in the very hour in which thou quittest the Seraglio she will take this poison, which she has dissolved in a goblet of water, and will die."
The Sultan had all at once become very grave.
"Why didst thou trouble me with these words!" he exclaimed.
"I do but repeat the words of the Sultana, greatest of Padishahs. She says thou art off to the wars, that
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