EarlyReaders’CommentsEXCERPTSFROMBOOKSELLERS’ENDORSEMENTS

Thisisasurefireseries.ThenebulousNavigatorsareakeyelement,Ithink,sincetheyprovideafantasy

elementandwellaslinkingthestories.DoesCynthianaappearinthenextone?Ihopeso.

IwouldpublishTheColonialsfirst.Ithinkyoungreaderswillenjoyandrecognizetheacademyforroyalsas

pureHarryPotter.I’mgladyoutieeachoftheroyalteensbackintothestory(it’sacleverplot).

At a time when history seems particularly vital and textbooks seem increasingly bland, a series of

historicalnovelslikethisisrefreshing,andmuch-needed.Theserieswilldowellwiththosealready

clamoringforanotherDanBrownnovelorthenextinstallmentfromAlexanderMcCallSmith,butIbelieveit

willalsoexpandonthoseaudiences,offeringentertainmenttothosewhoaremostlynonfictionconsumers,

and a dose of history for those oriented toward straight mystery and thriller. The timing couldn’t be

betterforthesesubstantiveandentertainingnovels.

—LaurenE.Snyder/Bookseller

MalapropBooks/AshevilleNorthCarolina

Thishasallthemakingsofawonderfulliteraryproperty.It’slikeTheDaVinciCodemeetsKidnapped.

It also remindsme of theBritish seriesWolfBrother (I’m not surewhy). I know of at least half a dozen

people,bothadultsandteens,Icouldsellyourfirstbooktorightnow(andinteresttheminthenextone).

IfirmlyplacethewritinginTheColonialandTheBookKeepwithSteveBerry,BernardCornwell,AJHartley,

andevenalittleDanBrown.

Pleasekeepmepostedontheprogressofthesebooks;Ilookforwardtosellingthem.

—SherriSmith/ParkRoadBooks

Charlotte,NorthCarolina

It’sacleverpremise,tohaveteenagedheroescomingofageandchanginghistory,aidedbythe

mysteriousSocietyofNavigators.Itseemsyoucouldspinoutanalmostendlesscycleofsimilarlycolorful

scenarios.Theexistenceofasecretsocietyaddsabitofmysteryanddarknesstothestory.

Thiswillcertainlyappealtoteens.Whilethewritingmaybechallengingforsomeyoungadults,itisnotany

more so than J.K. Rowling, and not nearly asmuch as books likeOctavian Nothing.Teachers will love

thesebooks.Wehaveanumberofteacherswhofrequentthestore,andtheyarealwayslookingforagood

booktheycanusetosupplementtheirlessonplans.

I would recommend this series to anyone who likes Dan Brown, James Michener, Elizabeth Kostova or

PatrickO’Brian.

—GinaGlenn/Bookseller/Buyer

MalapropBookstore/Asheville,NorthCarolina

THE

COLONIALSBYTOMDURWOOD

ISBN978-0-9991435-0-6

PublishedbytheEmpireStudiesPress

www.empirestudies.com

Copyright@2017TomDurwood.Allrightsreserved.

Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeanswhatsoeverwithoutexpresswrittenpermission

fromtheauthor,exceptinthecaseof

briefquotationsembodiedincriticalarticlesandreviews.Pleasereferallpertinentquestionstothepublisher.

Illustrationscopyright©VictorinRipert

Mapcopyright@2017JasonJuta

BookdesignbyTeaBerryCreative

Printing#1:July,2017

PrintedinChina

AUTHOR’SNOTE

In an address to the Organization of American Historians some time ago, OAH President James Oliver

Hortonargued that if thepromiseofAmerica is tobe fulfilled, itspeoplemustunderstand itshistory.He

calledforanewgenerationofhistorianstoplaceAmericainitsrightfulcontext,aglobalcontext—toportray

U.S.historynotasastoryseparatedfromtherestoftheworld,butaspartofaworldnarrative.

This story—the story of theAmericanRevolution—is like that.Beneath thepopular tales of theAmerican

Revolutionliesalargerandmorecomplexnarrative—aglobalnarrative.Iamnotsmartenoughtotellit,but

Iamhappytosuggestitinthislittleadventure.

AtthesametimetheSwampFoxwasraidingCornwallisintheCarolinalowlands,FrenchandBritishforces

foughtfivenavalbattlesoffthecoastofIndia.

Concurrent to theColonialscrossing theDelaware tosurpriseVonDonop, the two largestGermanstates,

Austria and Prussia, established an “enlightened absolutism” and fought to push one another out of the

GermanFederation.Between Pontiac’s Rebellion andWashington’s inauguration, the population of China

balloonedto300millionwiththeintroductionofpotatoesandpeanutsfromAmerica,whiletheEmperor’s

eldestsonperpetuatedsomeoftheworstcorruptioninthehistoryoftheQingDynasty.

TheAmericanRevolutionwasfoughtintheworld.Allofthisplayedapart.

One view or theory connecting these global forces is the coming of themodern age: that the industrial

revolutionwasbringinganeconomicendtotheslavetrade,andthebeginningoffullrightsforall.Inbooks

likeEmpireandColossus, one ofmy favorite historians, Niall Ferguson, paints the picture of a world of

risingempiresandfallingcultures,aworldconvulsedbyglobaleconomicforces,andsocialforcessetinto

motionbytheenginesofmodernproduction.

Thestatement inmystorybyCatherine theGreat’sdisciple,Clotilde, regardingbotanyandtheAmerican

Revolution, represents a school of thought suggested by AndreaWulf in her outstanding book,Founding

Gardeners:TheRevolutionaryGeneration,Nature,andtheShapingoftheAmericanNation.Oneofthemany

ideasshebringsintoherbookisthat“it’simpossibletounderstandthemakingofAmericawithoutlooking

atthefoundingfathersasfarmersandgardeners.”

Thisbotany-and-empire connection is givena fuller expressionby a characternamedSaulDubinsky,who

appearsinBookFive.DubinskybecomescaretakeroftheNavigatorarchivesandtheiruniquecontents,and

itishewhonarrativizesseveraloftheSocietyadventures.

Iwant to thankseveralofmy teachers for theirgenerosity:RobertAshcomand JerryWhitson (Pem-Day);

Chuck Sanborn, Coaches Alexander and Conley, and Rudy Weber (Mount Hermon); G.D. Stagg, D.M.

Summerscale,A.S.White,OlivervanOssandJ.C.Phillips(Charterhouse).

Thisbookisdedicatedtomyparents.

TomDurwood

ValleyForge,PA

WhoshallwritethehistoryoftheAmericanRevolution?

Whocanwriteit?Whoshalleverbeabletowriteit?

—JohnAdams

PROLOGUE

Smokecurledoverthebattlefield.

TheColonialshadbeenovercomebysuperiormanpower,superiorartillery,andsuperiortactics.

ThemenofBostonhadrunoutofbullets.

NowMajorAlexanderLindsay,SixthEarlofBalcarres,atall,elegantman,walkedthefieldatBreed’sHill

withhisLieutenantstoexactafinalprice.

Fallenstandardslitteredthered-scarredground,scatteredamongthewoundedsoldiers.Theairwasfilled

withtheirmoans

Thereissuchathingaschivalry.

AtBlenheim,JohnChurchill,theFirstDukeofMarlborough,capturedhisenemy,MarshalTallard.Seeing

thatTallardwaswounded,theDukeoffereduphisowncoachfortheenemycommandertorecuperate,while

he(Churchill,thatis)rejoinedthefray.

Thereissuchathingashonorableconductinwar.

Saladin,atJaffa,sawthathisarchenemy,Richard,foughtwithoutstandingbravery,againstterribleodds.

WhenhesawRichard’shorsegetshotoutfromunderhim,Saladinsenttwoofhisownhorses,sothatthe

Crusadercouldfighton,inaworthymanner.

Thereisindeedatraditionofcivilityonthebattlefield.

Butnothere.NotatBunkerHill.

“ForGod’ssake—”beggedayoungpatriotwholayontheground,attemptingtorisedespitehiswounds.

Balcarresjammedhisbayonetintheboy’sthroat.

“Thisisatrocity—”gaspedanotherColonial,anolderman.“You’llpay,Balcarres—’

“No,”repliedBalcarresasheemptiedhispistolintheman’schest.“They’llblameitontheCayuga—”

Hehandedthepistoltooneofhislieutenants.Hewasgivenafreshly-loadedgun.

“Thesearefarmers,”saidtheEarlofBalcarres.“Citizensoldiers.

“Theydon’tknowhowtofight.Theythinkthattheirpassionfortheirhomelandwillwintheday.”

“Icalluponyourhumanity, sir,”saidaColonialwhohadmanagedtositup.“Ifnot forme, then for the

boys—”

“Butyoulost,”commentedBalcarresasheshotthemanintheface.“Youlostthebattle.”

He reloaded the pistol, taking his time, relishing the ceremony of it. He took up a rifle and fixed the

bayonet.

“WegavemercytoMonroatFortHenry,”calledayoungContinentalwhose leghadbeenshattered.He

wasahandsomeyouth,withburningeyes.

“ColonelMunroisnothere,”repliedBalcarresbrisklyashestucktheyouthintheneckwithabayonet.He

twistedtheblade.

“Thisinsurrectionwillgoawayquickly,”theBritishofficerpronouncedtothesmallentouragewalkingwith

himacrossthefield.

The unplanned engagement that had no name, the conflict that we call The Battle of Bunker Hill in

retrospect, had been a one-sided affair. The rag-tag herd of patriot farmers had been annihilated by a

professionalarmywithstrategicskillanddisciplinedpurpose.Thishadnotbeenabattleintendedtowound

a fewenemysoldiersandsoconvince them to surrenderand retreat. Itwasnotabattle to influence the

enemy,orashowof strength,orabattle forposition.TheBritish intended tokillevery lastcolonial they

possiblycould.Thefastertheydidso,thesoonertheycouldquashtherebellionandreturnhome.

“Theywritewell,theseBostonians,”saidBalcarre.“Buttheydonotknowhowtofight.

“AndNorthwassoworried.”

“Wewillsoonownalltheirfarms.Theirwives.Theircows.

“Whowillsavethem?”smirkedBalcarres.

TheBritishofficerrepeatedthequestion,asthoughhelikedthesoundofit.

“Whoisit?”

Hepausedtocockandfirehispistolatanotherprostatewoundedman.

“WhoisitthattheColonialshopewillcome,fromEurope,tosavethem?Eh?

“Who?”

PARTONE

ThePact

Letthosewhohaveabundancerememberthattheyaresurroundedwiththorns…

—JohnCalvin

1

IMEETJIAYIMEIYING

It’sobvioushe’sbeensentsomekindofmessage.—RichardAdams

July,1775,Amsterdam,TheNetherlands

“HowCANyou?”exclaimedJohannes.

Close-up, sitting at the chessboard, Imust have looked impossibly young.Wide-eyed, impressionable, a

splashoffrecklesacrossmynose,sandy-hairspillingacrossawhitecollar.

“Howcanyoucuthimoutofthefamilybusiness?”

Letussaythatitall—thewholeadventure,really—startedatthemomentIwasdeniedmyrightfulplacein

thisworld.

Iwasdismissed.

Iwaswronged.

Iwasfourteen,andsuddenlyalone.

Ifavoredmymother’sside,inlooksanddemeanor—slim,stoic,light-haired,quiet(toafault).

Neitherparentfavoredme,however,asIwasabouttofindout.

“Youmightaswelldisinherithim!”

Mygodfather,theshippingagentJohannesSykes,pacedbackandforthbeforemyparents,irate,asthey

dined.

I satatachessboardby thewindowofmy family’sdiningroom,with itsdramaticblack-and-white floor

tilesandtapestriesandmantledfireplaces.

Ourfamilycatsatoppositeme.ImadetheBishopSacrificeonherturn.

ThesprawlingOldenbarnevelthomemademuchofpatternsoflight.Theywereeverywhere—ontheblack-

and-white checkerboard tiled floors of the kitchens, resting softly on the wooden roof beams, cutting

diagonalsonthepatternedrugs,glowingonthecream-coloredporcelainplatesadorningthehighshelves,

sparking prisms of color in the goblets of stippled glass.Hand-painted fabric designs from India and the

Orient hung on thewall. Outside, visible through the tall windows, shipsmoved on the stately canals of

Amsterdam.

“ThatisexactlytheOPPOSITEofwhatyoushouldbedoing—”

“Primogeniture.”repliedmyfather,PietrOldenbarnevelt.“It’snotexactlyanewpractice, Johannes.The

first-born gets everything.” He was a formal man, my father, smart but not brave, aware of traditions,

sensitivetosociety’sopinions.

“Andyouapproveofthis?”demandedJohannesMickleroftheround-facedwomanattheotherendofthe

well-settable.Mymother.

MadameO.noddedasshefinishedchewingamouthfulofroastbeef.

“ButWillissmarterthanCaspar,”arguedMickler.“Nooffense,”headded,withanodtoCaspar,mytall,

elegantolderbrother,whostoodbesidemyfather’schair.

“Nonetaken,”saidCaspar.

“Casparissociallyadept,”saidMother.“Heiswell-liked.Willispainfullyshy.”

“Willisahardworker,”saidMickler.“IhavetoldyouhowhelpfulhewaswiththeIntrepid’sledgers.”

“Hespendstoomuchtimeamongtheshipsandthesea-men,”saidMother.“Toolittleamongthepeople

whocount.”

“Casparistheolderbrother,”pronouncedFather,endingthediscussion.

“Casparinherits.

“Hewillhavelawyersandbankerstoadvisehim.Twobrothers,twoownerswouldneverdo.”

“Then,”saidJohannes,“ifyouaretobanishyouryoungersonfromthefamilybusiness,mayIsuggestthat

yougranthimalesserroute,ortwo?TheBosporus,forinstance.”

“Givehimatraderoute,youmean?ToBosporus?”askedCaspar.

“Aye,” saidMickler. “TheBaltic, theHebrides—theyareof little value, ye theymayallowhim toearna

living.UnlessyouwantanindigentsondecoratingthealleysofAmsterdam.”

“Verywell,”saidFather.“Iagreetothat.”

“AndhaveyoumadeinquiriesintothatFrenchschool,Johannes—?”askedMother.

“Aye.WillandIdepartforMarseillesSaturday.WemeettheChinesegirl.”

Theservantscollectedthedishes.KindBeatricesetoutanextrasliceofpieforme.

“Allverywell,”saidCaspar.“Allgood.”

Fathersippedaglassofsherry,whichhebelievedhelpedhisdigestion.Caspardownedhisinasinglegulp.

Imoved,KnighttoPawn2,knowingIhadsurprisedmyopponent.

Thecatpausedinhergroomingtolookatmewithacombinationofsuperiorityanddisinterest.

“Kingsidepawnrush,”Itoldher.

AstonewallayardhighrunsaroundthewharfsofOldMarseilles,asiftocontainthebedlamofthevarious

classesofseafaringmen,andthesurgesoftradesmen,withtheiremblemsandtoolsandwheelbarrowsand

urgentyells.

Flagsofmanynationswavedinthebreeze,heavywithfragrancesfromAfricaandtheAdriatic.Members

oftheFireCompanydashedbeneathasigngivingthetidetables,todealwithablazeononeofthetimber-

ladenshipsfromSweden.

Wesaw theChinesegirl’s raisedhandamong theswinginghoistsandstackedbarrelsbeneath thesalt-

house.Besideher stoodabrickof aman, squareandpowerfullybuilt.Asweapproached,his stolid face

brokeintoasmile.

“Waiguoren!”heexclaimed.

“Ah!Laomengyou!”saidJohannesasthetwoshookhandswarmly.

“TheyarecomradesfromtheDzungar-Qing,”saidthegirltome.“IamJiayiWeiYing.”

“WillOldenbarnevelt,”saidI.

Shegrippedmebythehandandaskedmetorepeatmyname.Shesmiled.

“That is toomuch topronounce,” she said. “Iwill call youWillO.This ismyuncle:NiuFangBo.”Her

braidsshoneinthelight;shesmelledofmint.

Ishookhandswiththebigman,whosefistcrushedmine.

“Wewillbegreatfriends,youandI,”saidJiayiMeiYing,puttingherarmthroughmine.“Wewillbethe

newonesatschool.”

“Allright,”Isaid.Wewalkeddownthewharflikeapromenade.ThemisgivingsIhadaboutleavinghome

werebeginningtofade.PerhapsIdidhaveafuture,ifpeoplelikeMeiYingwereinit.

Aswewalkedthroughthedocksideparadetowardsourcoaches,Iwasawarethatsomeonewasshadowing

ourmovements,atadistanceoftwentypaces,oneitherside.

“Myfriends,”explainedMeiYing,followingmyeyes.“Thepengyou.Weareknowntocertainenemies.In

theports.WefiledourpapersforCalais,sofewshouldknowofourarrival—”

Asuddenfiercerustleroseamongthelinesofvatsandcrates,signalingastruggle.

Weheardascrape,andthenwhisperedoaths.

Twoquick,loudblowsseemedtoendthematter,followedbyonemore.

Awhistleandanoddclickingsoundpassedbetweentheuncle,FangBo,andtheunseenpengyou(or,as

shewouldsometimescallthem,hert’onganfan).

Wereachedthefourcoaches.Theyhadbeenpackedtight,forthevillageChavaniacwasalongrideinto

theheartland,intothemountains.WehadbroughtadozenchestsofdocumentsfromAmsterdam,andthe

cargofromourChinesefriendswasequal.

“Here,RuanShou.”

MeiYingreachedintothebackofherwaistband.Sheextendedherhandtooffermeaknife.

“Ifyou’retravelingwithme,youbetterhavethis.”

Itwasawickeddagger,slim,withabronzehiltandcarvedwoodengrip,andsixinchesoftaperingblade.

Itwaswell-balancedandfeltindestructible;bladeandhilthadneverbeenapart.Thiswasnoornament,but

aweapon.

Ithankedher.

“WhatdoesRuanShoumean?”Iasked.

“’Softhands,’”repliedMeiYing.

InAllauch,twentymilesoffthecoast,wehadtowaitforanhour,hiddeninanorchard,withaclearviewof

roadsfromthreedirections,beforeNuiFangBowassatisfiedthatwewerenotbeingfollowed.

“IwishIhadenemies,”saidI,withalaugh.

“Oh,youdo,”repliedMeiYing.

Shewasnotinjest.

“Who?”Iasked.

“DoyouknowafamilyofSpaniards?”sheasked.“MartinezdePinillosSaenz,ofCadiz?”

“Yes.”Ianswered.“Iamengagedtobemarriedtotheirniece,Mariana.”

“Thatisyearsaway,Will—”interjectedJohannes,listeningin.

“Surelyyouknow,”saidMeiYing,“thattheVOCopposesSpanishinterestsinMadras,andtheWestIndies,

andtheIvoryCoast.AndthatyourownfamilyisseenaspartoftheDutchcabal.”

“Wearebutlimitedpartners,”saidI.“Wehavenosayintheoperations—”

“TheSpaniardsmakenosuchdistinction,”repliedMeiYing.“Theyarebetteroffifallthemembersofyour

familyweredead.”

Johannes,sittinginthecorner,raisedaneyebrow.

Twothoughtscollidedinmymind:first,thatMissJiayiMeiYingcouldnotpossiblyknowsuchdetailabout

me;and,second,thateverywordshesaidwastrue.

“Theweddingisoff,”Isaidaloud,andthistimeitwasshewholaughed.

2

THESCHOOLFORYOUNGMONARCHS

Dutchmerchantswerepartofalongsupplychainprovidingarmsandsomeof

thefinestgunpowderintheworld.—LarrieD.Ferreiro

OutsideChavaniac,France

“You’resoconceited,”whisperedClotildetotheblondemare,Tessa.

Theyounghorsenoddedherheadinagreement,makingsurehermaneshookoutprettilyinthemorning

sun.

“Youarethemostbeautifulcreature,”confidedClotilde.

Sheheldthecarrotintheflatofherpalm.

Tessa leaned over and took the carrot,munchingwith big crunching sounds, noticing how theRussian

princess admiredher, evenas sheate.Tessawaspregnantwithher first colt, and felt that shedeserved

specialattention,evenmoresothanusual.

“Butnottoobeautifultohelpmewiththecart.”

Clotildetossedthehalteronthemare’sneckandmissed.

The mare snickered and cantered off to join her comrades in the meadow, as the princess cursed in

Russian—

“Comemeetthenewones,”calledLeo.

MeiYingandIclimbedoutofthecoach.

Itdidn’tlooklikeaschool.

Itlookedlikeacrossbetweenaworkingfarm,azoo,andamonastery.Therewereaseriesofbarnsand

barn-yardsandlivestockcorralsontheleft,andastonelodgewhichseemedtoextendforeverontheright.I

couldseebenchesandtablesarrangedundershadedgrovesandalongcobbledpathsthroughthegrounds.

Astreamcamefromtheorchardsattheproperty’snorthernfrontier,acrossthefieldswheresheepgrazed,

downthroughtheextensivegardens,andunderthestonemillthatdominatedthecentralcompound.Some

diversegroupofremarkablearchitectshad left theirmarks:greatwoodenstiltsbuttressedasortof tree-

housewrappedaroundastonetowerthatmighthavebeenleftoverfromtheRomanera;aseriesofrope

bridgesconnectedtreesandtreehouses;hereandthereaMoroccanwindowdesignandaChineseroofgave

hintstotheancientandworldlysourcesfromwhichsprangtheNiddeCorbeaucompound.

Acamelwalkedpast.

The chests, and crates, andwooden boxeswith celestialmarkingswere carried off our coach, causing

greatstir.Iwouldlaterfindoutthatthiswasalandmarkdeliveryofwritings,atreasureofdocumentsfrom

theageoftheWanderer.

Twopeacocks followedthecamel.A familyofgiraffes foragedmethodically in thecrownofashadyoak

tree.

“You’llloveit,”saidLeo,whosejacketshowedacoatofarmswithlions.“Weworkinthefieldsalldayand

thenstudyoldmanuscriptsallevening.”

“Andrecitelessons,”addedMahmet,aroundTurkishboyonlyslightlyolderthanme.

“Andcleanthebarns,”addedLeo.

Iheardthechitterofmonkeys,andsawtwoofthemflitacrossthelowfrontsectionofthebarnroof.

“It’snotsobad,”saidtheRussiangirl.“Thisismythirdsemester.”

Theoldestamongthem,Gilbert,atallFrenchnoble,reachedtograbmybackpack—

“That’srude,”saidClotilde,reachingforGilbert’sarm.

“Don’ttouchhim,”snarledMeiYing.

LeoandGilbertandMahmet(anicknameforthemoreformal‘Mahmoud’)andtheRussiangirl,Clotilde,

turnedandlookedatJiayiMeiYing.

“IthinkIwilltouchhim,”saidGilbert.Hesnatchedmybackpackandshovedme.Ifelltotheground.

Iscrambledtomyfeet,fistsraised.

ButGilbertlaysplayedonhisback,ontheground,eyeswide,nosebleeding.

MeiYinghadkickedhimwithasortofround-housemotionofherlegandfoot—tooquickfortheeyetosee

—andnowshestoodoverhim,still,ready.

“Tryitagain,”shesaid.

Leogavealowwhistle.Clotildeclappedherhands.

“Youmustshowmehowtodothat!”saidGilbert,laughing,firstinFrench,theninEnglish,thenMahmet

repeatedthephrase,alsolaughing,inArabic.

Iwassuddenlygladtobehere,onthesemostunusualgrounds,amongthisodd,smartgroup.

“Lunchisready,”saidtheTurk.“Youmustbestarved—”

“Ionlyeataftermyfriendseat,”saidMeiYing,bowing(butonlyslightly).

“Here and I thought Chinese girls would bemeek,” remarked Leo. “You know. Downcast eyes. Rather

subservient.”

“IamnotChinesethewayyouthinkofChinese,”answeredMeiYing.“IamYunhejiating.”

“Andwhatisthat?”askedLeo.“Acity?”

“Aclan.WeareoftheGrandCanal,”repliedMeiYing.

“Yes,”saidClotilde.“MasterDubintoldus.”

“WhyarewespeakingEnglish?”askedMeiYing.

“SouventFrancaisaussi,”answeredClotilde.

“WespeakEnglishoutofrespectfortheColonials,”answeredLeo.

“TheBostonians,”addedMahmet.

“TheContinentals,”saidLeo.

“Weadmiretheircause,andintendtohelpthem,”saidClotilde.

“Youallhavedifferentanswerstothesamequestion,”remarkedMeiYing.

“That’sthewayitshouldbe,”saidGilbert.

Aswewalkedaroundtheyardtowardsthekitchens,IcomplimentedMahmetonthebrightredpatterned

coathewore.

“Hethinksitmakeshimlookwarriorly,”saidLeo.“Clotildesaidso.”

“Itremindsmeofhome,”correctedMahmet.“Itwasagiftfrommyfather.TheCaliph.”

“YoushouldhaveseenhowUmukorodressed,”saidLeo.

“TheAfricannavigator,”explainedMahmet.

“Warrior-King,”addedLeo,withadmiration.

Weturnedthecornerandwalkedintoacloudofsmokefromroastingmeats,andthesoundofvegetables

beingchopped,rapidly,onacuttingboard.

Atlunch,underthewide-setceilingbeamsofthecommonroom,MasterDubinstoodandraisedhisglass.

“LetuswelcomeJiayiMeiYing,”hesaid.“Youarewell-named,mygirl.Wearehappytohaveyouhere.

“Owbenpho!”Helaughedathisownpronunciation.“ThelasttimewehadaYunhejiatingonthiscontinent

wasthecentenary.Huanyingjintian,pengyou!”

A curious young giraffe stuck its head through the tall open windows. It slowly extended his neck to

sampletheivydecoratingthewalls.

“LetuswelcomeyoungWillOldenbarneveldt,”continuedMasterDubin.Allraisedtheirglasses.“Theytell

mehewillbeagreatbankeroneday.Heismuch-respectedbytheAgency.Muchwelcomed,Will.Hear,hear.

“Showhimhowwedothings,won’tyou?Good.

“Now,”hecontinued. “Thenews fromAmerica isdesperate.Farworse thanAdamsand Jeffersonwould

liketheworldtoknow.

“Muchwillbeaskedofyouyoungmenandwomen,thesecomingweeks,”hesaid.“Morethanyouthink

youcando.Butthestakesarehigh.

“TheprivilegedyoungmerchantprincesofHollandandtheCaliphsofConstantinoplemaynotyetknowit,

buta storm is coming.FromVirginia toParis toMoscow,Cuddalore toPeking,andallpointsbetween.A

worldwar.

“ThisAmericanrebellionismerelythefirstskirmish.

Hepettedthegiraffe’sneckasitswungslowlyacrosstheheadtable.

“Wewillseeaworld-wideshift.Anearthquake.Ithasnativepeoplesriled,allacrosstheglobe,andforthe

good.Lastweek,arebellionbrokeoutononeoftheBatavianplantations.”

MasterDubindrainedthegoblethewasholding.

“Astoyourpartinallthis.Therisinggenerationineachofyournationswillneedaclearhead.Pointing

theway.Toanewwayofthinking.

“Thatwouldbeyou.

“Apply yourself to all of your choreshere.Understandeverythingabout your lessons.Take thegreatest

careinthesmallestdetail.

“Eachtaskdeservesyourbesteffort,andmaysaveyourlifemonthshence.

“Attheendofthesemester,ifyouaresuccessful,youwillreceiveoneofthese.”

Herolleduphissleevetodisplayasmalltattoo,inhenna,ofanancientcompass,asthePhoeniciansmight

haveusedontheirvoyagesaroundAfrica,ontheinsideofhiswrist.“ThemarkoftheNavigators.Itisknown

ineveryport,andmayprotectyouinyouradventures.”

ThetallwomantohisleftleanedoverandspokeinDubin’sear.

“Lastly,awarning.Wehave localmonarchistswhomisunderstandourpurpose.Theymayseek todous

mischief,orworse.

“Beonyourguardasyouworkinthewesterngardens,upbythequarries,andinthevillagemarket.”

Dubinlookeddown,andreadfromaletter,oneofthedocumentsthathadarrivedwithourcoach.

“Happy,thricehappy,”heread,“shalltheybepronouncedhereafter,whohavecontributedanything.Who

haveperformedthemeanestofficeinerectingthisstupendousfabricofFreedomandEmpire…”

Herehepaused,asIwouldlearnwashishabit,asifhewererollingoverinhismindaparticularsyllable,

orword,orphrase.

“ThisstupendousfabricofFreedomandEmpire,onthebroadbasisofIndependence.Whohaveassistedin

in protecting the rights of human nature, and establishing an Asylum for the poor and oppressed of all

nations,allreligions.”

MasterDubinfoldedthepaper.

“Stupendousfabric,indeed.Hemeansus,ladiesandgentlemen,”hesaid,fixingeachofusinturnwithhis

eye.

“Oh,wewillcontribute.”

Heexited,withasignalthatwemightfinishdessertanddisperse,JohannesandNiuFangBoathisheels.

DubinmotionedforMeiYingandmyselftofollowthem.

Upstairs,inDubin’schambers,offthelibrary,asmallergroupconvened.

“WashingtonsayshemaynotmakeittoSpring,”Dubintoldus.

“Butamongthenewpapers,”hecontinued“aretheproxiesfromAsia.Wenowhaveaquorum.Theyhave

voted:AllIn.

“WecastourfortunewiththeColonials.”

“Youxiu!”saidNuiFangBo,shakingonefist.

“Thefirsttranche,”continuedDubingravely,usingawordheremeaning‘investment,’or‘allotment,’“will

gotopowderandmunitions,andwagesforWashington’smen.Johannes,youwillsendthistoAmsterdam.

ThePennsylvaniamilitiamenhavenotbeenpaidsinceApril,andwillsoondeserthim.

“The secondgoes tranchegoes toSoloman—SolomanandRobertMorris.Theymust stay solvent, at all

costs.

“ThethirdgoestoAdams,whosaysallislostifhecannotdefendCharlestonwithships.”

“Canwecoverallthat?”askedJohannes.I,whowellknewthoseledgers,nodded.

“Wewillneedmore,”saidDubin.“Wemayhavetosellsomeoftheseedcollection—”

“Sire!”saidI.“Youcannot—”

“ThereisamoneyedRussianagronomerwhoknowstheirvalue—”

The seeds thatColom’s pilot, Fieschi, smuggled from theNewWorld formed the heart of the Society’s

fortune.Foracenturyandahalf,Navigatorshaddiligentlycontributedtothatcollection.Thesingulararray

offruitsandvegetablesgrownonthehiddenAzoressitehadblossomedintoanempireofseedsandproduce

toexporttoEurope.

“Itmaynotcometothat,”saidJohannestome.

“This,whatwearedoingnow—”saidDubinwithconviction.“Thisisthefunctionofmoney.”Hehadmade

uphismind.“Thisisnowhim.”

“RemembertheEricksons,”warnedJohannes.HemeantthefamiliesofthethreeAmericanNavigators;all

themaleshadperishedatBunkerHill.

“Youcannotchampionacauseifyouarenotpresent.”

“Thisisascloseaswe’llgettothefighting,”answeredDubin.“TheColonials’causewillbewonorlostin

libraries,orcourtrooms,oringardens,asmuchasonanybattlefield.”

3

ENCOUNTERINTHEVILLAGESQUARE

Thosewhohadsquanderedtheirfreewillwere…ripeforenslavement.

—SimonSchaama

ThemorningoutingtothevillageofChavaniacstartedinnocently.

“Mahmet,youenjoyeating.”

Clotildesmiled.

“Comeandsmellthelentils,”shesaid.“Picktheonesyoulike—”

Wewereinthevillagemarketearlythatmorningtosetupboothsforourfruitsandvegetables—theNidde

Corbeauproduce,Ihadlearned,waswidelyadmired.Villagersvisitedourlongstallbeneaththebannerofa

crow’sheadinacircle.Musicplayedinthesquare,wherechildrendanced.

Clotildepickedupahandfuloftheflageoletbeans.Sheworeabluescarfatherneck,adistinctiveRussian

blue.Sherolledthewhitebeansthroughherfingers.MahmetandLeostoodwatchingher.

“Canyousmellthem?”sheasked.“Italmostsmellslikehazel.”

Sheleanedoverthetableandinhaled.Bothboyswatched.Longcurlsofherlighthairfellinprofusionover

hershoulders.Herdelicatealabasterhandsstirredamongthelegumes.Large,blueeyesabovefull,ruby-red

lipsturnedtowardsthem,andshesmiled,sothatherglisteningwhiteteethshowed,andshetiltedherhead

towardsthemprovocatively.

“Canyou?”

The stocky youngTurkishPrince,Mahmet, andhis companion, theGermanboy, Leo,moved across the

villagemarketplacetojointheirfriendandfellowstudent,CountessClotildeUshakov.

Shestoodatavegetablestall,whereanelderlyfarmcouplewatchedoveralongtableofplenty:displayed

ontheroughtableclothswerewildfruitjelliesandhoney,bottlesofciderandsprucebeer,platesoffragrant

cheeses,terrinesandrillettes,herbsofeverydescription,andanarrayof lentilsgatheredfromthefertile

fieldsofLePuyandYssingeaux.

Wehadriddeninawagondownthetwistingroadfromthemanortobuyandsellfood,tovisitthevillage

shops,tocollectmail,andtobuycandy,andtomingleamongthecommoners.JianyiWeiYingandNuiBo

andtheircompanionspreferrednottobeseeninpublic.

“Arethesenotunusual?”laughedClotildeasMahmetandLeocautiouslyinspectedthelegumes.“Seehow

thin-skinnedtheblondelentilsare.”

“ItistruethatIenjoygoodfood,”repliedMahmoudMustafaHasanHusameddinCezayrili,thirdsonofthe

firstwifeofSultanAbdulhamid,CaliphofallMuslims,SecularRulerofAlltheOttomanEmpire.

“Iliketoeat,”saidMahmet.“ButIdonotcook.Peasantscook.”Atthis,LeoKrummensee-Grabmaler,Heir

totheHouseofHohenzollern,LesserBaronoftheMargraviateofBrandenburg,snickered.

“We agreed to call them ‘citizens,’” corrected Clotilde, who was the eldest niece of Sophie Friederike

AugustevonAnhalt-Zerbst,nowknownasEkaterinaAlexeevna,EmpressofAllRussia.

“Verywell,”saidMahmet.“Thecitizenswhoaremyservantsenjoycookingforme.Theyhavetoldmeso

oncountlessoccasions.”

“Howstupidareyou?”demandedGilbertduMotier,whostoodnearby.

Thisoutburstsurprisedthem.ThemoodyGilbertsorarelyaddressedhisfellowstudentsdirectly.Gilbert

MarieJeanPaulJosephRocheYvesGilbertduMotier,ChevalieroftheNoaillesDragoons,heirtoafortune

almostbeyondmeasure,wasamongtheeldestandmostrespectedofstudentsattheAcademyforRoyals.

“Theydon’t enjoy cooking for you, anymore than they enjoywashing yourdirty clothes or shoeing the

dirtyhoovesofthehorseyourideorshovelingsnowfromyourpathsothatyoudonotgetwetfeet.They

don’tevenlikeyou,”Gilbertcontinuedloudly,warmingtothetopic.

Clotildehurriedlypaidforthelentilsandusheredthegroupawayfromthestallsandoutintothecobbled

streets.

“Theydon’trespectyou.Amongst themselves, they laughat thespoiledbratwhocouldnotevenearna

singleday’spayforhonestlabor.”

“Dothey?”askedI.“Dotheyreallylaughatus,Jeelbare?”

Thisideaupsetme,profoundly.

“Howdoyouknow?”

Gilbertsmirkedandshookhishead.

“Anyonewhohasamonetaryrelationshipwithyou…cannotbebelieved,”he toldWillO. “Ifyouoryour

family inanywaybenefitsthem,thenofcourse theywillalways laughatyour jokes,andagreewithyour

everyopinion,andcomepromptlywhenyouareaggrieved.Butfalselyso.Alwaysfalselyso.Tellthemyou

havenomoney.Tellthemyouhavelostallyourmoneygambling,andthatyourfamilyneedslotsoffood,and

aplacetostay.Thenyoumayseehowdeeptheirdevotionis.”

“Jeelbare,whyareyousoupset?”askedClotilde.“DidyourletterfromAmericanotarrive?”

“No!Itdidn’t!Butthatisbesidethepoint.Ifweareevertoamounttoanything,anyofus,wemustshed

these ridiculous shackles of affluence.That is thepoint of everything that is happening.Can younot see

that?”

TheTurkishPrincewasaboutto lendhisopinionwhensuddenlytworidersonhorsebackappeared ina

greatshowofsnortingandclatter,rightinfrontofthefivestudents,blockingtheirway.

Thetwomenwerecollectors,intheemployofthelocallord.Swordshungfromtheirsaddles.Theirsteeds

wereblack-manedFriesians,horseswhosescarredhidesgaveproofofpastbattles:thesewerewarhorses,

beastsasmightoncehavepulledachariot,andtheystrainedattheirriders’reins,eagertochargeintothe

students’midst.

“We are thirsty,” declared one of the riders gruffly. The bright yellow and red crossed-keys-with crown

patchmarkedthemasmonarchistsintheemployofPierreCoffinhall,titledLordoftheneighboringestates,

staunchsupporteroftheKing.

“Werequireatribute,”statedthefirstrider.

Leo,wholongedforbattle,turned,hiseyesgrowingwide.

“Youlotlookflushenough—”saidthesecond.

“Beware,thourustic.Thoucalumniator!”warnedLeoinimpreciseFrench.

“You’reBrandenburg,”saidoneofthemtoLeo.“You’resafe.Fornow.Whereisthenewone?”hescanned

ourranks.“WhereistheDutchlad—”

Hiseyesfoundme.Mybloodturnedtoice.

Leounsheathedashortdaggerandrushedatthem—

ThesecondriderknockedLeotothegroundwithoutremovinghislegfromthestirrups.

“Ugh!”Leosplayedontheground,hisknifeclattering.

“Givemethat—”ThefirstridersnatchedClotilde’sbagfromherarm.

“Youcan’t—”sheprotested.

“Yes,Ican.Imighttakeyouaswell,Princess—”

Gilbertsteppedforward,handonhilt.

“IamoftheKing’sDragoons,”saidhe,insertingacommongerundbetweentheword‘king’andtheword

‘dragoons’toindicatethathewastheretogivebattle.

“Ah,yes,theNursery-SchoolRegiment.Ihaveheardof it,”chuckledthefirstrider.“Youmustbeouton

maneuversthismorning.Greatdangeramongthefruitstalls.Comeabitcloser,Dragoon—”

Ashadowfellsharplyacrossthelane.Theriderslookedup,squinting.

“Thereiseasierpreythismorning,gentlemen…”saidalow,threateningvoice.

Atallmanhadsteppedintothealleyway,insertinghimselfbetweentheridersandthestudents.Hisbroad

swordbladeflashedshinyandready,inthesunlight,heldatamostwillingangleoutsidetheman’scloak.

“…Elsewherethanhere.”

It was our chaperone, Master Jean Frestel, a man who had fought for the throne at Ramillies and

Malplaquet, and in the Wars of Austrian Succession. In his left hand, he held a flintlock pistol, aimed

squarelyattheleadrider.

TheCoffinhallriderpaused.

“Youwouldn’tshootme—”

“Let’sfindout,”growledFrestel.

Hecockedthepistol’sflintback,makingaheavyclick.

Leo snatched Clotilde’s bag from the second rider’s gloved hand and hissed at the black horse, who

started,confusedbythesound.

Thetworidersglared,thenthoughtbetterofit,andmovedon.

“Looktoyourschool,youngones,”warnedthefirstriderdarkly.“Youmaysoonreceivevisitors.”

MasterFrestelguidedusquicklytowardstheirwagon.

“Didyouhearthataccent?”theschoolmasteraskedaloud.“Hungarians.”

“Ho, I look to thedaywemeetagain, thouHungarians!Thoubrigands!Aaagh!”Leocalledback to the

departinghorsemen,althoughhewasnowspeakinginGerman.

“OhJESUSofNAZARETH.LetmegoandIwillcarvethemlike—ACHILLESABSENTisACHILLESSTILL!

Doyouhearme?”

Hecontinued,inexplicably,inflawedLatin,totheeffectthatthenoblebloodinhisandhisfriends’veins

tracedbacktoCaesar,oratleastthedaysofCaesar.

SoonLeo’swell-craftedwordsbecamelost inthecloppingof thehorses’hoovesonwood,asthewagon

crossedthebridgeovertheriverAllier.

“Any?”Iasked,ofGilbert.“Notanyofourservantsloveus?Areyousureofthat,Jeelbare?”

ButGilbertwasdonespeakingfortheday,soClotildetookupanexplanationofthecaseforequalityinthe

great brotherhood ofman as thewagon rolled through the latemorning sunlight.Hermusical voice and

encouragingwordshoveredoverourlittlegroupaswemovedbravely,uncertainly,upthecurlingroad,and

intothegreenfoothillsabovethevillageChavaniactowardsNiddeCorbeau.

4

RECITATIONS

Youseethebodies.Yousmellthesmoke.Butthelargerpictureeludesyou.

—KurtWimmer

Insidethearchivesthatthirdtime,myeyefellonatall,silentwomanwhostoodinadoorwayalmosthidden

amongthestacks,castingaprotectiveeye.

“HernameisJalmari,”saidMahmet.“She’salwayshere.”

“IheardDubincallherJaraonce,”saidClotilde.

“IthinkherhusbandwasaNavigator,”saidMahmet.“Helsinki.”

Thearchiveswereorganizedbycontinent.Eachtimewecametothatcavernous,punctuatedbyshaftsof

lightfromglasswindowsalongitsslopedroofs,wefoundafolderofdocumentswithournamesonthem.We

servedasscribes,copyingeachdocumentfaithfully,andwhenDubincalledonuswerecitedtotheothers

whatwewerecopying.

Iquicklycametounderstandthattheserecitations—whatseemedlikecasualstorytellingamongourselves

—was our most important method of learning. Because our friends were telling the stories, we could

questionthemuntilwehadaclearsenseofit.Thesesessionsoftenwentonuntillateatnight,andnoone

(otherthanLeo,ofcourse)complained.

IstoodandreadfromaglossaryoftheAmericanIndiansIwastranscribing.WhenIgottotheCherokee

andZuni,Iventuredintohandsymbolsandsignlanguages,whichamusedMeiYinggreatly.

OneoftheEgyptianAsfourbrothersstoodandrecountedthetaleoftheOttomanphysicianPanzehir,and

hisadventureswithserpent-poisonantidotesintheCourtofEmirSaniHath.

MeiYingroseandgaveasuccinctaccountof theVenetianbanksshewas transcribing,newmethodsof

financingtradedevisedoutofnecessity,tomeetthedemandsofclothandwooltradeintheBalticwhenthe

SevenYearsWarcollapsedthemarket.

Someofourclasseslastedafortnight(Poisons,CiphersandCodes),whileothers(Celestials)spannedan

houroverthecourseofasixweeks,andsomeintensiveclasses(RulesofWar)metfortwohours,threetimes

per week, for three weeks). The schedule changed daily, as did the work assignment sheet posted at

breakfast,atdawn.Wewerepaireddifferentlyeveryday,appointed tovarious tasksallover thegardens,

kitchens,borderpatrols,stables,forgesororchard,eventhesmallquarryatthecompound’snorthernmost

grounds.

Theonlythingwealwaysdidtogetherwasthelibraryrecitation.

DubinaskedLeotoexplain(withMahmet’shelp)theBookofInvasions,theBookofLeister,andtheBook

ofBallymote,whichconcernedpatternsoftidalmeasurementsandphasesoftheMoon.

WelearnedaboutaqueductsofGaulandBritonfromGilbert.

“Whatdidyousay,Mahmoud?”askedClotilde, interruptinghistalk.“I’msorry,Iwasthinkingaboutthe

mare.”

“Astatementofarmedneutrality,”repliedMahmet,whohadbeenrecitingfrommemory.

“It’saveryshorttreaty,really,morethanitisastatement”headded,havingamomenttothinkaboutit.

“GenoaneededawaytocontinuetradingwithbothRomeandwiththevariousmembersoftheCambriatic

League.So,sheissuedastatementofneutrality.”

“Neithersidewashappyaboutit,”addedLeo,“butneitherhelditagainsther.”

“Actually,Francewasquitehappy,”correctedMahmet.“LouisexpectedGenoatosidewithSicilyandMilan

andtheothers.”

“Andwhathappenedafterthewar?”askedGilbert.

“Genoaenjoyedstrongrelationswithbothsides.

“Andwhoactuallywonthatwar?Iforget—”

“MaximillianandFerdinand,”answeredMahmet.

MeiYingandIregardedClotilde,rarelysoattentiveduringnarrativesofwar.

“Ah,”wasallClotidesaid.

5

CHORES

Thearistocracyhasnotsurvivedthislongduetoitsintransigence.

—JulianFellowes

“Binha,”respondedGilbert.

He had learned a clutch of Chinese phrases from thepengyou,whoweremaster hunters and runners,

activitieswhichGilbertadmired.

MeiYinghadaskedhim,inFrench,iftheclayhadeffectivelysealedthepipeswheretheyjoined,sothat

nowaterleakedout.

Wewereonthelibraryroof,tryingtoreplicateanimpressiveplumbingarrayofwaterpipesandwhichMei

Ying had seen in one of the archive journals, on Rome’s provinces. The Roman Emperors Caracalla and

Diocletian had apparently pleased (and thereby controlled) their subjects by providing plentiful water in

colossalbaths,damsandreservoirs,drains,spas,heated floorsandhomefaucets—contributionsMeiYing

thoughtwouldbepopularamongherownpeople.

Sheseemedtotakehisanswerassatisfactory,forsheaddedtwomorecopperpipestotheframing.

When shewas done,Mei Ying yelled for Leo to turn on the valve leading from thewater tower (three

barrelsropedtogether,connectedbywoodchutes).

Hedidso.

Thepipesectionsburstapart,sprayingusallinatorrentofwater.

ClotildesworeinearnestatMeiYing.

“Look!”saidMeiYing.“Iftheblock-headed—”theadjectivesheusedwasharsher“—Romanscanbuildit,

socanwe!”

“Iseetheproblem!”calledGilbert.

HeartysoundsofclankingandpoundingonmetalroseintheFrenchskyabovethelibrary.

“Portabam,basbat…”intonedtheinstructorashewalkedamongthedesks.

“Portabamus,batus,bunt…”recitedthestudentsintheclassroom.

Exceptnow,astheinstructortouchedeachstudentontheshoulder,theyloweredtheirvoicestowhispers,

andsomecoveredtheirmouthsaltogether.AcracklingfireplacewarmedtheclassroomfromacoldSpring

morninginthehillsofAuvergene.

“Portabo,bisbit…”continuedtheinstructor.

MasterRaynalhadspiedtheyoungPrussianCountLudvigHelmuthCarlBernhardvonMoltke,knowtohis

classmatesasLeo,inthethirdrow,doodlingathisdesk,andnowtheinstructorconspiredtoembarrasshim.

HeenlistedhisstudentstolessenthevolumeoftheirconjugationofLatinverbs,onebyone,untilthechorus

wassilentexceptforCountLeo’sincoherenthum.

“Porto ba, ba, ba, hunnnh hunnnh, porta bim, bam, bat,” Leo half-sang as he scribbled on his secret

drawing.

The oblivious scribbler did not notice that hiswas the only voice left until the crystal laugh ofClotilde

broughthimtohissenses.

TheGermanheirlookedup,aghast.MasterRaynalsnatchedawaythedrawing.

“Porta‘bimbambat’?”askedMonsieurRaynal.“Isthattheproperconjugation,HerrMueller?Shallwetry

that inasentence,eh?Is thatwhatyouwillsaywhenChancellorKonggratzof theSaxe-WeimarRepublic

wantstonegotiatewithyou—discreetly,inLatin,asheisknowntodo—atastatedinner?Hewillhearyour

mis-conjugatedverbsandthinkyouafool.ThatiswhyIamhere.Toprotectyouandyourunfortunatefamily

fromsuchanembarassment.Toarmyouwiththediplomatictoolsyouwillneed.”

MasterRaynalheldupthesheetofpaper.“Now.Whatisthiscontraption?Whatdoesitdo?”

“Idon’tknow,”mumbledthemiserableLeo.

“Come,come.Nosuchmodesty.Surelyyoudrewthiswithsomepurposeinmind.”Heheldthedrawing

upside-down. “Might it be you have some skill in weaponry, to compensate for your lackage of same in

linguistics…”

Theinstructorshowedthedrawingtotheclass.“Isthisamast?Toaship?”

“Yessir.The top of themast has been replacedwith a hollow tube,” said Leo, “and inside the tube are

these…here, if I might…these are spears. Weighted spears. Weighted and poisoned, with deadly Hootoo

poison,yousee,atthetips,sothatwhentheenemyramsyou,thistop-sectionfallsawayandthespearsdrop

downtoimpaletheadvancingforce.”Hestoodinhischairtopointtohisdrawing.“YoucanseeherewhereI

haveshownoneofthespearsgougingaman’seyesout—”

ThegirlsintheLatinclassgroanedwhiletheboysraisedvariousobjectionstoLeo’sdiagram,speakingin

anumberofdifferentdialectsuntiltheinstructorhushedthemallwithasternraponLeo’sdesk.

“Suchcommotionoveraridiculoussketch.Degustibusnonestdisputandum.VonMoltke,youwillbethe

lowestconscript inthePrussianarmy.Youwillwearstripesonyoursleeves.”The instructorshreddedthe

drawingandletthepiecesofpaperfallonthefloor.

“Lookaroundyou,YoungMaster,”hesaidtotheunhappyLeo.“Yourclassmates—you,allofyou—arethe

future leaders of nations. The young men and women in this room will decide the fates of hundreds of

thousandsofyoursubjectsindecadestocome.Willyoubethebuttoftheirjokes,vonMoltke?Willyoube

designingpoisoned-tippedspears while SultanMahmet here is leading theOttoman fleet, andClotilde is

bringingMoscowintoanewgoldenage?”

“Oh,that’sallright,”offeredLeo,“Mahmetwouldneverinvademe.Hestillowesmemoneyfromcards—”

Theclasslaughed.

“Well,thatisgoodtoknow.”MonsieurRaynalremovedhisspectacles.“OttomanTurkeywillneverinvade

Prussia. As youmay guess from your geography class, thatwas not themostworrisome of international

scenarios.”

Herubbedhisgray-hairedtempleswearily.

“Youallhavepotential,”hetoldhisclass.“Nowyoumustfulfillit.Youhavebeengivenarareopportunity:

tolearnhowtorule.Youarenothereforyourselves.Ifyoucannottakeadvantageofit,thenalliswasted.

Poureddowntheguttersofhistory.Anditisyourpeoplewhowillpaytheprice.”

“Ourpeople,”cameavoicefromthebackrow.ItwasGilbertduMotier.

“Ourpeoplewouldbebetterservedwithoutus.”

This single sentence, unexpected and deeply-felt, so unnerved the instructor that it hung in the air,

unanswered, whileMaster Raynal paced, and arranged the papers on his desk, and at length asked the

Duchessd’Ayen-Noialles,justturnedthirteen,toleadtheminarecitationoftheninerulesofwar,inLatin,

whilehelefttheclassroomtocollecthimself.

In the stables, seeing Clotilde struggle to lift the barrow high enough to dump the grain into the feed

troughs,Mahmetdroppedhisbroomtocometoheraid.

“Ican’tstandthis,”saidMahmetwithadepthoffeeling.

“What?”askedLeo.“Cleaningthebarn?”

“Physicallaborofanykind,”repliedtheOttomanPrince.“Look,I’msweating—”

“Laborisnolongertobelookeddownupon,”quotedGilbertcynically.“Itisthefulcrumtoabetterworld.

SosaytheColonials.”

“Butallwedohereiswork,”continuedMahmet,bitterly,asifhecouldnotstopnowthatthevalveswere

open,“workandstudy—it’sajoke—”

“Ienjoyalltheweapons,”saidI.“AndIlearnedthatlegsweepfromMeiYing.”

Now,asMahmetliftedthebarrow,itswervedonitsunsteadywheeledaxis.Itpitchedandclatteredtothe

ground,scatteringallthegrain.Inhishastetosweepupthegrain,theyoungOttoman’sbroomhandlehit

thestall’spartitionbehindhim,causingtheentirerackofmetalbridlestoclatternoisilytothestonefloor.

“Gracefullydone,OSultan,”saidLeo,whohadbeenwatching,andthenheaddedaLatinwitticism(ashe

hadheardtheprefectsdo):

“Factumnonverbum.”

“Doyouevenknowwhatthatmeans?”askedanirritatedMahmet.

“Yes.ItisaRomanadageconcerningfatpeopletryingtohidetheirclumsymistakes.”

“No.Youjustsaid,‘Deedsoverwords.’Itmakesnosense.”

“Well,peasantswon’tknowwhatI’msaying,willthey?,soitshouldsoundmostimpressivetothemwhenI

amMinister—”

“You’rethepeasant,”saidMahmet.“Youdon’tknowthefirstthingabout—aboutanything—”

“Takethatback,Turkishslug—ugh!There!Letthatshowyou—”

LeoandMahmetsettosword-fightingwiththeirbrooms,withmejoiningin,andMahmoudnarratingin

rapid-fireAnatoleTurk.Themonkeysgatheredtowatch,unsureifthisfraternalcombatwasinearnest.

Gilbertrappedhisawlonthewoodentopofthetackchesttoremindudofworkundone.

Thestudentsreturnedtotheirwork.MasterFrestelwouldbetheretoinspectthestablesinlessthanan

hour,andhewoulduseawhitegloveifhesuspectedtheyhadslackedoff.

Mahmetcomplainedthathehadaheadache.Leosaidhewasthirsty,andthatitmustalmostbelunchtime.

“Icanstay,”saidI.“Icanfinish,”

Iwas humming a passage fromBach and sweeping the hay into neat geometrical patternswhen I felt a

suddenblowtomystomach.

What—?

Thepainwasunbearable.Idoubledoverandfelltothefloor.

Who—?

Ifeltstronghandspickmeup.

“Please!”Iutteredweakly.“Pleasedon’t—”

Iwasdropped—hard—onmyback.

Ifeltsomethingbeingstrappedtomewithabelt.Itsmelledoffat.

Irolledoverandfoundhimselfinthepigpen.

Thepigswereallcomingtowardsme.

Aslabofsuethadbeenstrappedtomychest.

“No!”Icried.“Stop!”

Thepigsweretearingmeapart intheirfrenzytogetit.Themonkeyscalledouttome,urgingmetodo

something.

“Fightback,”cameavoice.“They’llkillyou.”

Throughtears,Isawthegateopen.

Ahugebrownboarentered,differentfromtherest—ahuge,wild-eyedbeastwithsharptusks.Theother

pigsignoredthis,gruntingandslammingtheirsnoutsatpoorme,knockingmedowneachtimeIstood.My

cleantrousersandshirtwerealreadycoveredinmudandfilth.

“Fightback,youngman.Thereisnoquartergiven.”

Theboarsawme.Itsmelledthesuet.Thebeastrushedforward

Ibeggedformercy.

“I’lllethimkillyou.”

Ilungedfortheroundmetallidofthehorse-feedbucket.

Usingitasashield,Islammeditagainsttheboar.Thebarnmonkeys,whofearallviolence,explodedin

protest.Againandagain,Ismashedoutoneveryside;onceIslippedinthemuckandtheyalmostgottome.

Withalowroar,Iraisedmyself,andstruckoutsavagelyuntilIhadmaderoomenoughtodiveunderthe

pen’swoodenfence.

Itorethesuetvestfrommeandtosseditintothepen.

IscreamedatmybestialtormentorsinDutch,usingwordsandavoiceIdidnotknowwereinme.

Thewildboarlookedatme.Heblinked.

“Courageisthemasterofallvirtues,”saidMasterDubin.“Withoutit,nothingelsematters.

Themonkeyschatteredamongstthemselves,aboveme.

“Fendforyourself,Will.”

6

THETHIRDRULEOFWAR

Onlyslowlydidmenappreciatethesignificanceofmeasurableregularitiesintheweather,

cropyieldsandinfections.—NiallFerguson

“From your readings,” asked Master Frestel, a young, ill-tempered and powerfully-framed instructor of

mysteriousorigins,“canyoutellmewhichruleofwarismostusefultous,asweattempttoexplainwhat

happenedattheBattleofHadrianopolis?”

Muterowsofstudentskepttheirgazesdownward,fiddlingwiththeirpencils.

“Come.Whocantellme?”Frestelglaredattheclass.“Youhadbetterknowthis.”

“Um…thethirdrule,”volunteeredVeeversuncertainly.

“Andwhatisthethirdruleofwar?”

“Force.Sufficientforce.Alwayshavesufficientforcetoattainyourmission.”

“Andwhyisthatapplicablehere?”

“Valenswasimpatient,”saidVeevers,wishingnowthathehadnotspokenup.

“Yes.Diana,canyouexplainwhatVeeversmeansby‘impatient’...”

“Yessir. The Goth commanders, Alethesius and Sarphax, had assembled ten thousand troops along the

Rhine.WhentheRomangeneral,Gratian,lefttofightinaPannonia,theGothsattackedatNicopolis,moving

across theRhine. Richomeres sent a letter to Valens, asking Valens towait forGratian to return. Valens

rashlydecidedhewouldratherfightnowwithasmallerarmythantowaitforreinforcements.Thatwashis

mistake.”

“Yes. Valens did not have sufficient force to accomplish hismission.Hewas doomed right there.What

happenednext,Mahmoud?”

Mahmet had a perfect memory, so the masters often called on him when they needed a long passage

recited.TheywerenotalwayssuretheyoungOttomanPrinceunderstoodwhathewasreciting,butstill,it

keptthelessonsmovingalong.

“Valens arrived to find the main Gothic camp,” said Mahmet, “a circular encampment with carts and

wagonsactingasapalisade.SeeingthatthemainGothiccavalrywasnotpresent,headvanced.Thatwasa

bigmistake, for theGoths’ cavalrywasnearby, andwhen they returned, theRoman light cavalrywasno

match. Seeing this, the barbarian host abandoned their defenses and attacked. Romans and their horses

weresweptoffthebattlefield.Withoutthesupportofthecavalry,theRomaninfantrycollapsed.TheRomans

were crammed together so tightly that a soldier couldnot drawhis sword.Themassacre continueduntil

nightfall.Fortythousanddead.ItwastheworstRomanlossinfourcenturies.”

“Whatisapalisade?”askedtheyoungerDelftbrother.

“Donotspeakoutofturninmyclass,”MasterFrestelsaidsharply.“Iwon’ttellyouagain.Leo,whatisa

secondlessonwecangainfromthisbattle?”

“TheGothswantedtheriver,”saidLeo.

“Yes.It’salmostalwaysariver,isn’tit?Justlookatthemap.TheRomansmayhaveactedasiftheycared

more about the fight inPannonia—butwhat they actually covetedwas thewaterway.Control of the river

gavethemunfetteredaccesstotheirsupplies,anddeniedtheenemyallhis.Gilbert,whatsindidtheRoman

generalcommit?”

Gilbertfidgeteduncomfortably.

“Youdidn’tbothertoreadtheassignment,Gilbert?”

Gilbertstaredintentlyathisdesktop.

“Youhavemorepressingbusiness,eh?”goadedFrestel.

“Whocares?”askedGilbertabruptly.“Thisisall—urk—”

FrestelhadclampedhishandaroundGilbert’sthroatandliftedhimcleanlyfromhisseat.

Theclasssatinwide-eyedsilenceasMasterFrestelpinnedGilbert—theoldestandmostrespectedamong

us—againstthewall

“Icare.YoudoasIsay.ExactlyasIsay.”

Gilbert’seyeshadgrownwide.Hetrieddesperatelytoremovethechoke-holdbutcouldnot.

“Yourotherinstructorsmayletthesecleverremarkspass,boy,butIwillnot.”

Gilbert’sfeetdangledoffthefloor.Hetriedtoclawattheinstructor,whoonlytightenedhishold.

“Lifeisfarharsherthanyoucanpresentlyimagine,youngdragoon.”

Gilbertflailed,tryingtospeak.ClotildecriedoutforMasterFresteltostop.

“Answerme.”

A body flew at the prefect, but Master Frestel had seen it coming and braced himself: Mahmet, the

OttomanPrince,hadrushedtohisfriend’said,onlytobounceofftheinstructorandlandinaheap.

“Letgoofhim,”snarledMahmet,fromthefloor.

Hewasnowbleedingatthemouth.YetmyTurkishfriendstood,leaninghisconsiderablebulkagainstthe

wall,tryingtohidethetremblinginhislegs.

“Youmaynotbeanentirelylostcause,”saidFresteltoMahmet.

“You may be,” he commented to the unhappy Gilbert as he released him and watched as the young

Frenchmanslumptothefloor.

“Britonsaregardeners,”saidMeiYing,readingfromthejournalshewascopying.“Americansarefarmers.

Americansareseedcollectors.Americansarebotanists.

“They see economic independence in a crop field. A soldier’s wife who spent a fortnight atMonticello

recalls endless vegetable terraces and red soil. ‘Beauty and utility,’ was Jefferson’s motto. ‘Beauty and

utility.’

“Theseare fromBertram.”Shepouredapacketofseeds into thepalmofherhand.Clotildestrainedto

see.

“Hesaystheseareanewspeciesofchickpea.Hesaystheypromiseanewworld.Politicalfreedom.”

“Healwayssaysthat,”commentedGilbert.

Iinterruptedtherecitation.

I stoodand turned to lookdirectlyat theFinnishcaretaker Jalmari, shewhoassembledour foldersand

oversawourtranscriptions,andwhonolongerintimidatedme,nowthatIunderstoodalittle.

“Youarecross-assigningus.Youaregivinguseachareadingthatanotherofuswouldcherish,”Itoldher.

“Venetianbankingpracticesareactuallyintendedforme,battletacticsforLeo,botanyforClotilde—

“Andall of this,” I continued, “all of this—data, all of thiswisdom, all of thesenumbersandcharts and

measurements—allofthesephenomenamoveincycles.Theyspelloutanunderlyingcode.Itisthatcodewe

want.Itisunderstandingthatcodewhichwillhelpourpeople.”

Jalmariwatchedme,asourfamilycatoftendid,withoutacknowledgement,asonlyamovingelement in

herlandscape.

Thatnight,afirstdraftofthegreatAlmanacwasleftonmybed.

7

ANENEMYVISITS

AfterBunkerHill,landedgentryeverywherebegantoglancenervouslyattheirhouse-servants.Alreadyoutnumbered,theywerenowbeingout-theorized.Anyideaunderpinningarulingclasswasfastcrumbling.

—SaulDubinsky,ABriefHistoryofBotany

Thelordoftheneighboringestate,Pierre-AndreCoffinhal,broughthissonwithhimwhenhevisitedNidde

Corbeautoretrievehistwooxen.Coffinhallwasatawny,tousle-hairedman;thesonworeahunter’sjacket,

beltedatthewaist.

TheoxenhadwanderedtoofarandgottentrappedinthemudoftheAuvergnestream,whichmarkedthe

borderbetweenthetwoproperties.

Mahmetledthevisitorsintothedininghall.

“Youhavemeatadisadvantage,”saidCoffinhall,motioningtothetables.

“Speakfreely,”saidDubin.“Iwantthemtohear.Theyneedtorecognizeaveiledthreat.”

“Talkyouofthreats,whenIonlycomeofferingthanks,neighbor,”saidCoffinhal,alarge,athletic-looking

man,ashelookedaroundtheroom,smiling.

HepresentedDubin’swifewithabasketoffruits.

“Anofferingforyourtroubles.Youhavesavedtwoofmybestoxen.”

“Howkindofyou,”saidDubin.“WhatnewsofD’Aguessau,andtheprogressoftheAbolitions?”

“TheysaythenewentailswillpasstheAssemblynextSpring,”repliedLordCoffinhall.

“Ourregionismostblessed,”hecontinued,forhehadmorethanoxenonhismind.“Wehavebeenspared

theravagesofthewarswhichhavedamagedCercysodeeply,andAlsace,andMontpelier.

“Theforcesofrebellionanddisquiethaveoverlookedourlittleregion.Thecrownenjoysthefruitofour

lands.TheParismarketsarefilledwithourcheesesandcharredmeats.

“Letusbewareofimportingtrouble,”saidLordCoffinhall.

“You mean me importing trouble,” remarked Dubin. “From the Decembrists and Tongs and occasional

Spaniardswhostalkmystudents.Andwellyoumight,fortheyarebloodthirsty.

“Yet, they come here to settle scores with us, and us alone. As it has been these many years. Our

adversariesbringnoharm,eithertoyouroxenortoourfaircountryside.Tothecontrary—NiddeCorbeau’s

commerceraisesupalltheestatesoftheAuvergne.

“Youhavenothingtofear.”

“Backing rebels, whether here or abroad, is a dangerous business,” replied Coffinhall. “Young royals

shouldexpectconsequences.”

“Consequences?”askedDubin,notatallcasually.

LordCoffinhallshrugged.

“The loss of title,” he offered. “Derogeance,” he added, looking inGilbert’s direction, for noble rank is

forfeitable.

“Thewrathofempires,”headded,withanodtoMeiYing.“OrEmperors,whogenerallyhavelittleusefor

theentitlementofpeasants…”

MeiYingrosefromherseat,butherunclebadeherstaystill.

“ComeNeighbor,letusretrieveyouroxen,”saidDubin.“TheyhavebeenspoiledbyourRussianresident.

Youmightknowherenemies,theDashkovas—”

“Onlythroughcorrespondence,”repliedCoffinhallagreeably.

Clotilde’shandgrippedherspoonuntilitseemeditwouldbend.

“Andherearetwobasketsofbeets,freshfromoureasternfields,”Dubinhandedthemtotheson.“Your

motheraskedafterthe—”

“GiveourbesttoSenorSaenz,”saidDubintotheson.

CoffinhalltheYoungerglanceddirectlyatmeatthementionofthatname,andachillwentthroughme.

“I hear theWinter inCadiz brought toomuch snow,” chattedDubin. “Perhaps he has sent some of his

HungarianstoFrance,forourmildweather.”

Wetrundledthroughtheorchards,andacrossthestream,tothequarries,onthenorthernmostfrontierof

theNiddeCorbeaucompound.JiayiMeiLingneedediron-workforherplumbingproject,andthequarrymen

hadablacksmith.MahmoudandLeoand Iaccompaniedher.ClotildewalkedbesideherponyTessa,who

carriedinhersaddlescheesesandgrapes,ciderandsprucebeer—giftsforthesmithies.

WeemergedfromtheorchardsandsawagroupofCoffinhall’smen,theyoungHungarians,justacrossthe

quarry.Theylookedupatusandsmirked,asapackofwolvesmightdowhentheytakenoteofrabbits.One

ofthemcalledoutthatwewouldmeetsoon.

JiayiMeiLingpretendedtotakeanarrowfromaninvisiblequiveronherback,notchitinabow,andfireit

atthem.Thepengyoumadethemselvesvisible—justforamoment—startlingtheHungarians.

8

WITCHES’CHANTS

Iintendtogoinharm’sway.—JohnPaulJones

Wewereswimminginthemillpond,beneaththemillwheelwhenClotilde’sskirtsgotcaught.

Theoriginalmillattheschoolhadbeenexpandedtoaddstables.Oakenpoststhreefeetindiameterhad

been buried to support a heavy roof over a row of stalls, several of them triple-height (for the giraffes).

Fenceshadbeenconstructedbetweenthelivestockandthecogwheelssotheircuriositycouldnotleadthem

to get caught in the great axle, or iron spindle, or the gearing. A Flemish braking system controlled the

wheel’sspeed,acurvedbandofwoodwithheavyhorizontalbeamshingedtothewall.Witheachturnofthe

millwheel,abrakeleverliftedfreeofitscatch,allowingtheflowofwaterbetweenthestanchions.

Afavoritegameamongtheolderstudentswastodivebeneaththemillwheel,whichwashadbeeninthe

built in theFrenchmedievalstyle,embedded in thestonewallof themill,half-insideandhalfoutside;so

thatacleverswimmercouldfivein,gounderthewheelasitspun,grabtightholdofashelf,andrisewithit

ontheotherside.

ClotildehadbeenflirtingwithGilbertandhadnotpaidattentiontotheflowofwater.Shemisjudgedits

speed,andwhenshedoveinandsankoutofsight,therewasnocorrespondingshoutfromtheotherside.

Ittookamomentforthisregister.

Mahmoudnoticeditfirst.Hecriedouthername.Ontheinstant,followingtheurgencyinMahmoud’scry,

GilbertandLeodovein.Mahmoud(slower,forhisgirth)andMeiYingandIalldoveintosaveClotilde.

Gilbertemergedwiththehalf-drownedprincess.Helayherdownonthehayofthemillfloor.Theykneeled

aroundher,watchingherdripping,coughingformassheregainedherbreathing.

Iprayed.

Mahmoudemergedfromwithinthemill.Unexpectedly,hehadgoneclearunderthemillwheelandintothe

building.

Latethatnight,wecrouchedinthegardenrows,inthecreakingsouthwindmill’sshadow,underthebright

moonlight.

“Whatarewedoinghere?”hissedLeo,whohadonlyfollowedtheothersoutofhabit.

“Thedeeratesixtyheadofcabbagelastnight,”repliedClotilde.“Theymustberemindedwhoownsthis

garden.”

“Isn’tthiswhatthedogsarefor?”askedGilbert.

“Whydon’twejustkillthem?”askedLeo.

“Don’tbestupid,”saidClotilde.“Withoutthedeer,wewouldbeoverrunwith—”

“GodinHeaven!”Gilbertletlooseastringofcurses.“Whocouldcareaboutthedamncabbagesbutyou?”

“Gobacktobed,chasseur,”saidClotilde.

“If you don’t know the grains,” she chided, “you don’t know anything. That’s what Jefferson says. The

Colonialleadersyouadmiresomuchareallfarmers.Gardeners.”

Gilbertsnorted.

“This is why the peasants—sorry, sorry—this is why our colleagues—love you so much, Clotilde,” said

Mahmet.

Severalsetsofglowingeyesbecamevisibleinthemoon-shadowsbeneaththenearbystandoftrees.Our

enemies,thedeer,stoodattheedgeoftherows,justunderthealders,watchingthisunusualnightscene.

“Theretheyare!Sortez!Sortez-vous!Allez-vous!”

Clotildethrewaclodofdirtatthedeer.

“J’enaimarre!”shecalledout,makingitpersonal.“Tumefatigues!”

Shestoodandrecited,withgestures,theentirewitches’chantsfromthefourthsceneofMacbeth,firstin

French, then inRussian. But itwas not until herRussian rendition of the versewith the ravin’d salt-sea

sharksandbaboons’bloodthatthedeerseemedtrulyconcerned,andboltedaway.

“Huh!”calledtheRussianprincess.“Comebacktomorrownightformore,ublyudki—”

9

SCHOOLLIFE

TheWarofIndependencegrewtobeaworldwar,withmenfightingfromFloridatoCanada,fromtheCaribbeantoAfricatoIndia,andacrossbroadreachesofhighseas.

—JonMeacham

“Thereisatradition,inMedievalliterature,”saidMasterFrestel,“oftragiclove.

“Courtlylove.Amanfallshopelesslyinlovewithawomanwhoisalreadytaken.Shecanneverbehis.

“Thewomanisimpossiblydesirable,”Frestelcontinued.“Theman,thesuitorproveshisworthinesswith

actsofbraveryanddevotion.Yetthisloveisdoomed.Allknowitbuthe.

“Howbeautifulitistolosethatwhichyouseekmost.”

“ThatistheAmericans,”concludedFrestel.“Unfortunately.

“TheBostoniansaremost eloquent in the causeof freedom.Most ardent. Listen to theirwritings, read

aloud.

“Buttheycannotsustain.Notinthisharshworld.

“Theywillbepulverizedintheimperialthresher.”

“I don’t actually understand this democracy talk,” admitted Leo late one night, as we lay in our beds,

countingstarsthroughtheskylight.

“Colonials.America.Whatdoesitallmatter?”

“Well,itismostlyaboutpeasants,”answeredMahmet.“Theirfreedom.”

“Butanypeasantisfreetosimplymovetoanothertown.Ishenot?”saidLeo.Thegleamingstarsdelivered

alayeroflightinthebedchamber.“Apeasantcanchangejobs.”

“No,saidI.“Amerchantcan.Amerchantisn’tthesameasapeasant.Atradesmancanmove,andmake

variouslivings.Hecannotownland,though,somaybeheisasortofhalf-peasant.Hecouldownaship,”he

added,thoughtfully.“Asmallone.”

“IsMasterDubinapeasant,then?”

“No,”saidMahmet.“Heismoreofascholar.Orapriest,orasoldier.Theyaremoreorlessoutsideclass

lines.

“Captains and generals are certainly not peasants. Infantry are. The family that sharecrops, and eats

weeds—thosearepeasants.”

“Well,”saidI,“Isometimesthink it isallmeanttobethisway. Isn’t this thedesign?Imean,dowenot

eachhaveaparttoplay?”

“Ifwedoorifwedon’t,don’tletClotildehearyousaythat,”saidLeo.

“OrGilbert,”addedMahmet.“He’sevenworse.”

“Iwanttobeacolonial,”Isaid.

“I don’t,” said Leo. “I just want to enlist. I’m not as smart as you two. I can’t learn all this banking.

Astronomy.Diplomacy.Languagesandall.”

“You’regoodatnumbers,”offeredMahmet.

“Soldiering,”saidLeo.“MaybeI’mgoodatthat.”

“Imisshome,”saidI.

“Gilberttoldmeheisleavingsoon,”saidLeo.“Tojoinhiscousin.TofightwiththeAmericans.”

“Hisfamilywon’tlethim,”saidMahmet.“Theywilldisinherithim.”

“Hedoesn’tcare.Hehasfoundapilottotransporthim,intheSpring,”saidLeo,andweallfellasleep,all

exceptLeo,whopracticedpinfingerandbishoponthefloorboardswiththeTurkishstraight-bladeMahmoud

hadsoldhim.

“Decimus,”askedClotilde,“wheremightIfindNitidus?”

ShewasrespectfulenoughtousethegladiatornicknameswhichLeoandMahmoudhadgiventhemselves

thatweek.

“Nitidusisrightthere,”repliedDecimus(thatis,Leo),indicatingafortressofpillowsandblanketswhich

occupiedthefarsideofthedormitoryroom.Thestructurehadbeenarrangedtoblockoffallhumancontact.

Blanketshadbeendrapedtoactasaroof,sothatitsoccupantcouldstaresilentlyoutofthestructure’ssole

portal,whichfacethewindow.

“IshepracticingtheSultanicsignature?”askedClotilde.

“No.Heisjustinoneofhisblackmoods,”explainedDecimus(Leo).

“Oh.Canhehearme?”

“Idon’tseewhynot.”

“Nitidus,”shesaidtothewallofblanketsandpillows,“Iwonderedifyoumightconsidertutoringmeand

Gilbert.It istheBattleofLutzen.GilbertisconvincedthatAdolphuswasleadingtheHolyRomanEmpire,

andIamquitesureitisWallenstein.I’mafraidwearehopelesslylost.”

Therewasalongsilence.

“IsupposeIcould,”cameavoice,somewhatmuffledbutnonethelessdistinct.

“Firstofall,noneoftheGermanstateshasanycolonies—”statedMahmoudoneevening,inourquarters,in

theunendingargumentoverwhichculturewouldruletheworld.

“That’snottrue!BrandenburghasFreiderichburg,”counteredLeo.

“—IfyouthinkthatasinglelittleoutpostontheGoldCoastcounts—”saidMahmet.

“AsmuchasBatavia—”

“Andsecondly,”continuedtheTurk,“youareallterriblesailors,withnonavytospeakof—”

“Let’splayaknifegame,”suggestedMeiYing,sickoflisteningtothisagain.

“Mumblety-peg!”criedLeo.“Brilliant!”

Shebroughtoutapen-knife.Thatis,itlookedatfirstlikeapen-knife,butwhenwesawitsfulllength,it

wasamoreseriousblade.

“Come,OttomanPrince—”

ShereachedforMahmet’shand.

“You.You’llbefirst—”

Gilbertblockedher.

JiaiyiMeiYing,perhapsnotsowell-namednow,lookedupandsmiled.

SheadvancedtowardsGilbert,hereyesshining—

“Come,prettyboy—”

Thethreepengyousuddenlyappeared.

TheysurroundedMeiYing.Therefollowedafuriousrushofmovementandmuffledblowsanddeepgrunts.

Thentheyweregone.

10

ALETTERARRIVES

Welittleknowhowmuchoftheuncontrollablethereisinus.

—JohnMuir

Aletterarrived.

ItwasforGilbert.Themarkingsonthewell-weatheredenvelopesaidthatitcamefromAmerica

Gilbertopenedit.

ApairofAfricanpeacocksdodgedtheglancingrubberballswhichcaromedoffthestonewalls,tryingto

preservesomemeasureofdignityastheysaunteredthroughthecourtyardwherethestudentssatwaiting

fordinner.

The noisy young Spanish cousins, Dukes of the Catalan provinces, wearing big padded gloves on their

hands, chased loudlyafter theballs,which landedwitha splash in the fountain.LeoandMahmoudwere

playingcards.

“Readit,Gilbert,”saidClotilde,butGilbertrefused.Shetookit.

“It’sfromBoston,”shesaid.“FromGilbert’scousin,Joincare—seethemudstainsontheenvelope,itmust

havecomedirectlyfromthebattlefield!”Shereadtheletteraloud.Hereiswhatitsaid,inpart:

Yesterday Iwatched a fellow soldier amputate his own infected foot. Todaywe spent ourmorning

rootingformushrooms,andthisafternoonIsetoutonanexpeditionwithCaptainParminter,tothe

HudsonValley.Itisfivedays’journey,andwehavefewprovisions.YetIfeelclosertomytrueheart

here,amongthesedesperateprivationsandtheseplainmen,thanIeverdidinthecushionedparlors

ofEurope.Godblessesourcause,Cousin.Iknowwewilltriumph—

Asuddenfuriousthrashingoverheadsilencedthecourtyard.

Alltheyoungnobleslookedupwards.

Ahawkhadlauncheditselfatthepeacocks,onlytobecomeensnaredinthenettingwhichprotectedthe

courtyardaviary.Theycouldseethehawkblazingeyes,almostcloseenoughtotouch:thiswasnoheraldic

symbol, no cooing pet, but a bird of prey whose razor-sharp claws gave clear proof of its deadly intent

towardsthepeacocks.Thehawkhadswoopedinonthestruttinggroundbirds,onlytobecomeentangledin

awebitdidnotseeorunderstand.Thewildbirdthrashedfuriously,hissingandspittingatitswould-beprey.

Servantsclimbedoverthenetting.Withsomeeffort,thehawkwouldbecollectedandremoved.

Thehandballgameresumed.ThedulcimercounterpointsofBachagainfilledthecourtyard.

Mahmetlaydownhiscards.Leoprotested,invividTeutonicphrases.Mahmetchuckledandcollectedthe

coinsonthetable.

“Itiswewhoarethepeacocks,”announcedGilbertwithafinedisgust,tonooneinparticular.“Mycousin

isright.Iwouldratherdiefightinghonorablythantoliveaswedo:petsinthissilkencage.”

Herosefromhisseatandwalkedoff.

Thecommenthungintheair.

Bellsrang.Dinnerwasserved.

Inthenettingabove,thefalconersfreedthehawk.

Thepeacockscameoutofhiding.

“I’vegot togohome,”wasallLeosaidwhenMahmoudandIreturnedtoourroomsandsawthathehad

packedallhisbelongings.

Wecouldn’tmakesenseofit,soweranandgotClotilde.

ShesatontheedgeofmybedandreadtheletterLeohadreceivedfromhissister.

“Theirfatherhasdied,”sheannounced.“Hisdrinking.”

Shefoldedtheletterandputitbackintheenvelope.

“ThesisterhasagreedtomarryLucien—”

“Sheneedsme—”saidLeo,withurgency.Weallknewhowmuchhecaredforhiseldersister.

“You’rebeinguseless,Leo”saidClotildesharply.“Isthatwhatyouwant?”

“Youneedsolutionstotheseproblems.”

Sheheldtheenvelopeandshookitathim,challenginghim.

“That’swhatwillhelpyoursister.”

Wesetitallout,lateintothenight.ClotildehadafriendinLeidenwhomshethoughtmighthelp.Mahmet

mappedoutaschemethatappearedtohavesomemerit.

Ihadanidea.

11

NIGHTAMONGTHECABBAGES(Part2)

Everynowandthenatriggerhastobepulled.—RobertWade

“Notthecabbagesagain,”moanedGilbert.

“Carrotsthistime,”commentedMahmoud,aswealltraipsedouttokeepClotildecompanyinthegardens.

Thenightwascool.

“Thisisbetterthansleeping,”saidMeiYing,whohadreturnedfromherenforcedbreak(orwalkabout,as

NuiLongBohadcalledit).

Wewalkedthroughtheorchardinsilence.Whenweemergedintotheopengardens,thestarswereclear

andbrightabove.

“Whatisyourwarname?”MahmoudaskedClotildeaswewalked.

“’Yennenga,’Isuppose,”shereplied.

“That’saterriblewarname!”Leowasgenuinelydisappointed.“Thatwillneverdo.”

“HowaboutTamar?”Isuggested.

“HowaboutSayyida?”suggestedMahmet.

“No,”saidLeo.“CiaDegli.”

Inthemoonlight,intheopenrealmsofnight,itseemedlikeafitname.Leowasmasterofsuchthings.

“CiaDegli!Good!”declaredClotilide. “I never liked ‘Clotilde’ anyway.Thiswill strike fearwhen I fight

besidetheColonials—”

“IwillbeaColonial,too,”saidI.

“IamalreadyaColonial,”saidJiayiMeiYing.

“IamaColonial,”saidMahmet.

“No,you’renot!”saidLeo.“You’reafatTurkish—”

“Ssshhh,”hissedClotilde.“You’llscarethedeer—

“Isn’tthatthewholepoint?”askedGilbert

We found thecarrot rows.We tookourstations.MeiYingpointed toconstellations,and told thestories

behindherpeople’sversionsofthestars.

Icaughttheglintofwatchingeyes.Therewasarustleinthestandoftreesborderingthegardens—

“Thosearenodeer!”saidI—

AsIspoke,agunroaredandabulletwhistledpastmyhead.

“Letgoofme!”Clotildescreamed—

Isawseveralfiguresdescendonher,cuttingherofffromtherestofus.Bulletswerestillflying—

IrolledoverinthegardenbedandcameupwiththeknifeMeiYinghadgivenmeinmyhand.

Iflungitlow,atthegroupofinvaders,totheleftofwhereIcouldseemyfriendClotilde—-

Thebladefounditsmark;Iheardapainedgrunt.

Clotildefreedherself—

Thethreepengyoudroppedasiffromtheskytoprotectherfromthemonarchists’pursuit.

“Tothebarn!”calledGilbert.

Leofiredhispistol—

Weretreated—

Weranacrossthefields.MasterFrestelhadpracticedusinthis,sowefellintofamiliarpatterns…

Wecrossedthebridgeoverthestream.

Leocaughtabladewithahandhehadwrappedincloth,andyankedtheswordaway—themarauderfell

backwardsintothestream.

AsecondfollowedhimintothewaterasMeiYingflunghimoffherbackandovertherailing—

LeoandGilberttookupthemusketshiddenunderthebridgeandfiredonourpursuers,slowingthem.

Ifoundtwodaggerscachedthere—

Goatsandchickensandsleepycattlescatteredatthemelee.

Anewbandofmonarchistscameatusfromthewoods.Weheardtheclicksandwhistlesofthepengyou,

andheardthesoundsoftheirfuriousswordfightingintheunderbrush.

TheinvaderskepttryingtoswarmClotilde,thenGilbert—

A swordsman joined our ranks andbeat back a trio of attackers.We saw thewhite ofMasterFrestel’s

smileflashinginthemoonlight.

“Fire!”

The wind shifted and we could hear in the distance a panic among the horses, accompanied by pigs

squealingandmonkeyschattering.

“Fireinthebarn—”ItwasMasterDubin’svoice.

With renewed energy, we fell on our attackers. There were over a dozen of them—they should have

broughtthirty—andintheirdesperation,theynowbeganshootingwildly.

Thatwasamistake.

Thepengyouappliedtheirskillsinearnestnow.

MasterDubinarrivedwithNuiLongBoandahalf-dozenofourworkers,all armedwithguns.The tide

quicklyturned:themonarchists,disorganizednowthattheirinitialrushhadfailed,didnotseemtohavea

plan.Somanygunsusedagainstthemwithdeadlyforceseemedtosurprisethem.

Frestelkilledtheirofficer,oneofthehorsemenwehadencounteredinthevillagesquare.

Bodiesfell.

Oneofthemonarchiststurnedandfled.Hebeckonedtheothers.

Goldenflameslitupasectionofthenight.

“Doaswehavepracticed—”calledFrestel.

“MeiYing!”criedClotilde,besetbymonarchists—

“GetTessa—”

Flamespouredoutofthebarn’sloft.

MeiYingledthemare,Tessa,intothebackpaddocksandthemeadowbeyond,upwind;theotherhorses

sawfromtheirstallsandfollowed.Whenthepigssawthegeneraldirectionofthings,theypaddedquickly

after, too.Thecamelsandpeacocks,having longsincereckonedthebreezes,werewaiting, lookingon,as

werethemonkeys,whohadalreadyretreatedtothetrees.

Coffinhall’ssonheldatorchaloft.Icouldseehisfeatures,twistedinhatred.

AlastclutchofmonarchistsdescendedonClotilde.Fresteldrewagunononeofthemandhefellwitha

groan.

Leostrucktheswordfromanotherinvader’shandandendedwithhisarmtightaroundtheman’sneck;he

twistedhardandthemandropped,inert.

Buckets fromthetroughscame ina line.NuiFangBopouredbucketafterbucket intothe fire,his face

reflectingthelight—

AlastattackerleaptatFrestel.

Iflungmydaggerathimandthefigurefellhard—

Thefireabated.

Themonarchistsfled.Jalmaraappeared,draggingCoffinhalltheYounger,whohadfled.

Thepengyouappeared,Coffinhallhimselfinhand.

“Wewantedtokidnapher,”confessedCoffinhall.“Orhim.”HenoddedtowardsGilbert.

“Andtheransomwouldbethedeedtoourproperty,”saidDubin.

Themonarchistnodded.

“Marchandhasbeenkilled,”reportedMahmet,namingoneoftheworkers.

Gilbertkneeledbesidethefigurewithmystraight-bladeddaggerinhisneck.HewasaHungarian;hisface

wasfamiliar,wehadseenhimbythequarries.

“Ishedying?”Iasked.

“Aye,”answeredGilbert.

TheHungarianflayedonhisbacklikeafish,chokingforbreaththatwouldnotcome.Dubinremovedthe

blade,buttoomuchdamagehadbeendone.

Wecouldseenowthathewasnomorethanaboy.

Jaramurmuredthelastritesoverhim.

Dubinspoketohiminanotherlanguage.

Theboynodded.

“Tellmysister—”whisperedtheHungarian.“ShelivesinthevillageofSzentSkanzen—”

“Aye.Iknowoftheplace,”saidDubin.“Wewilltellheryoudiedbravely.”

Theboyseemedtorelax.Heblinkedatme.“Ihavesomecoins—she—”

MeiYingsworebitterly.

“Don’tdie.Please!”Icried.“Thisishorrible—”

EvenLeohadgoneashen-faced.

TheHungarianboyshiveredandpassedtoabetterworld.

Frestelshuttheboy’seyelids.

Slowly,hestood.HeturnedtoCoffinhall.

“Bloodhasbeenspilledtonight,”saidFrestel,inavoicesofraughtwithdeadlyemotionIdidnotrecognize

itatfirst.

“Nayige,”demandedNuiFangBo.HelookedfromCoffinhalltohisson.

“No!”screamedClotilde.GilbertandMeiYingescortedherbacktothepaddocks,soshecouldtendthe

animals.

Apengyouclutchedthefathertightlybythethroat;FangBoheldthesonwhileherepeatedthequestion.

“Whichisittobe?”translatedFrestel.

“Me,”croakedCoffinhall,whosefacehadgonewhite.

“Letmysonlive.”

ThesonbeggedformercyuntilFangBoblastedhimacrossthejaw,foritwasthesonwhohadlitthebarn

onfire.

Then,deliberateinhismovements,MasterFrestelwavedoffeveryone,eventhepengyou.

HeandFangBotookCoffinhallanddisappearedintothewoods,headednorth,towardsthequarries.

Thepengyouescortedthesonwestward,towardshishome.

We saw the three silhouettes—Nui Fang Bo, Frestel, and Coffinhall—merge with the shadows and

disappear.

12

THEPACT

Iftheremustbetrouble,letitbeinmyday,thatmychildmayhavepeace.

—ThomasPaine

Later thatsamenight,wedug theHungarian’sgraveoutbehind thebarn,onaslightbluffnear the first

rowsoftheorchard.

Thesafe,blanketingsoundofcricketshadsettledonthenight.Burblingwatersoundsofthemillstream

accompaniedtheshowofstarsabove

Weshoveledinsilence,eachconsideringtheeventsofthenight.TheMalaymonkeyswholivedinthebarn

cametowatchtheburial,alongwithacamelandasleepy-eyedgiraffe.

A tall figure appeared, carrying a lantern in one hand and a satchel over his shoulder. The monkeys

scattered.

ItwasMasterFrestel.

Helookedaroundatourwork.

“ImustsayGood-bye.”

Weblinkedthereinthestar-litmidnight,notunderstanding.

“Iamleavingtheschool.Tonight.ForBoston.

“Iwillraisemybanner,suchasitis,withtheAmericans,andaddmycolorstotheirs.Theyfightforusall.

“Iwisheachofyougoodluck.Wemaynotmeetagain.”

Iburstintotears.

“Come,Dutchman.ThisiswhatIammeantfor.Iamnoteacher.”

MasterFrestelspokeafewwordsprivatelytoeachofus.

Clotilderemovedthebluescarffromherneckandgaveittohim.

Then,withawave,MasterFrestellefttheRoyalAcademyatChavaniac,walkingfearlesslyintothemawof

night,muchasAchilleshadwalkedthatnightlongagoonthebeachesofTroy,stridingfromthecampfires

intotheshadowsoftheforcesofMenelausandAgamemnon,orsoitseemedtous.

Ihadneverfeltmorealone.

Wewatchedhimdescend thepath downalong the creek,wheremoonlight reflected, and then into the

meadows,movingamongtheshadowsofthebeasts,untilwecouldnolongermakeouthisform,untilallwe

couldseewasabobbinglight,andevenwhenthatvanished,wekeptwatching.

Tessa’sfoalstumbledoutofthebarndoortofindwhereeveryonehadgone.

Clotildewrappedthefoalinablanketandcarrieditbacktothebarn.

We finished filling thegrave.Thesoundof theshovelbladeson thedirtas theypatted itdownseemed

comforting.

“Whatdidhesaytoyou,Clotilde?”Iaskedwhenshereturned.

Theothersstoppeddiggingtolistentoherreply.

“He told me that Aunt Catherine’sMoscow court sounded to him like a treacherous place, and that I

needed to takerefuge from its intrigues.Asa librarian,oranun inanabbey.Hesaid Iwasagift to the

Russianpeople,andthatitwasuptometoprotectmyself.”

“I’mscared,”Isaid.

“Hetoldmethatwarismorethanglintingswordsandwavingbanners,”saidLeo.“HetoldmethatIwas

likehim.Hard-headed.And that suchmenaswemust take care that our volatile naturesdonot leadus

astray.”

Mahmettookadeepbreath,andshuddered.

“Hetoldmenottoworry,thatIwouldfindmyplaceintheworld,amonghonestmen”saidGilbert,ashe

staredatsomeunseenpointinthestarrydistance.

Cricketsandothernight sounds filled theyard.Thegiraffewatched,curious, crunchingonhigh-branch

leaveswithoutconviction,forhedidnotreallycaretoeatatnight.

Ourspadespattedtheearth.

Whenwehadfinishedthegrave,Clotildetookeachofusbythesleeve.

Shegatheredus,underthestars.

“Wemustmakeapact,”shesaid,hereyesglisteninginthemoonlight.

Clotildeputoutherhand.Weall did the same, and the sixofus claspedour tremblinghands together

there,overthenewgrave,overlifeanddeath,therebeneathglitteringGeminiandSagittarius,thereamong

thebarnmonkeysandthehorsesandthetoweringgiraffe.

Wetookanoath.

“Letusalwaysremembertonight.Howwefoughtforoneanother,andriskedourlives.

“Letusalwaysbehonestwithoneanother.

“Letusbandtogetherinthisregard:wewillalwaystrytodogood,andneverbeselfish.”

TearsrandownClotilde’sface,buthervoicewasclearandcertain.

“Andanyoneofuswhogetsintotrouble—realtrouble—cansendfortheothers.Theothersmustcome,at

anyexpense.

“Ifoneofuscalls,theothersmustanswer.Weeachvowit,”shesaid,withdeepestconviction,andthenshe

repeatedthistoeachinturn,andmadeeachrepeatitforourselves,andheldGilbert’sfacesoastoforce

himtolookintohereyesashesworeit.

Atthelittleceremony’send,underthestars,LeomistakenlysaidSicSemperTyrannusasasortofcodicil,

butnotevenMahmoudobjected,foritsdefianttoneseemedtosuitthemoment.

13

GRADUATION

Everythingismorebeautifulbecausewearedoomed.

—Homer

Twodayslaterweattendedthefuneralofourneighbor,LordCoffinhall,who(itwassaid)hadperishedina

quarryaccident.

Thedark,fearfullookwhichCoffinhall’ssongaveourcontingenttoldusthatariverhadbeencrossed,and

thatnoneofuswouldbethesame.

“’Icallnotuponafew,butuponall,’”quotedMasterDubinatourgraduationceremony.“’Notonthisstate

orthatstate,butoneverystate;upandhelpus;layyourshoulderstothewheel.’”

Itwasasubduedeventunderagraysky.Thatafternoon,onlytheanimalsshowedexcitement.

After each henna tattoo had been completed, the masters shook hands with us, ending with a brief

audiencewithDubin.

IntoeachofourearshewhisperedPalmamquimeruitferat,withafriendlyemphasisonthethirdword.

Uponhearingthis,Gilbertnodded;Mahmet lookedatthemasterasthoughhehadbeenaccused;Jianyi

MeiYing,quietlyfuriousthatLeo,whomsheconsideredafraud,hadbeengiventhecompasstattoo,showed

noreaction;ClotildesaidYes,shewouldtrywithallherheart.

Asforme…

ThispainfullyshyDutchboyhadbeenattackedbypigsandfiredonbyhumanhunters.Formanyyears

shunnedbyafrigidfamily,Ihadbeenwelcomedintothewarmestoffellowships.Ihadkilledaman—aboy,

myownage.Ihaddiscoveredaportaltothepast,aworldfullofhiddenpatternsandmysteries,smalland

large,humanandnatural.

WhateverIimaginedhadbeentakenaway,andwhatevershadowsIsawinmyfuture,ablazenowburned

inmyheart.

Iwouldplaymypart.

PARTTWO

Constantinople

IhaveseenthatAllahcausedthesunofempiretoshineinthemansionoftheTurks,andturnedtheheavenlyspheresaroundtheirdominion,andnamedthemTurk…andplacedthereinsofthepeopleofthetimeintheir

hands.

—SecondMilleniumscholarAl-Kashgari

14

THEFRENCHKING’SVISITOR

Whohaswrittenthisplaythatweareobligedtoperform?—EduardoGaleano

OnthegroundsofthePalaceofVersailles,heelsdugintogravel,oneafteranother.

TheKinghadavisitor.

Two men, the visitor and the King’s chamberlain, moved through the formal spaces of the Palace at

Versailles.Thepalaceandthegroundshadbeendesignedbymenoftradition-boundimagination,menlike

LeVau and LeBrun and LeNotre,menwhoworked according to rules of proportion and sobriety. They

walked through thepavedandgravel forecourts linkedbybalustrades, thenalongpedimentedentrances,

thenamongthedancingwaters,throughfinewroughtirongates,andacrossgardenssovastthatcanalsran

throughthem.

Nowtheirheelsclickedonmarblefloors.

Thevisitor,anAmerican,speakinginbarelypassableFrench,struckupconversationwithhiscompanionin

thehigh-ceilingedchambersofthegildedpast.Theemptyroomswerefurnishedinthickbrocadesofredand

gold,uprightleatherchairswithclawedfeet,heavygiltworkonplastermoldings,largesculptedsideboards,

and heavy stone-topped tables. The palace walls were decorated by a hierarchy of paintings (historical

paintings at the highest). A new hanging, a powerful depiction of CharlesMartel at the Battle of Tours,

caughtthevisitor’seye,buthedarednotlinger:thisappointmenthadbeenweeksinthemaking.

Inanarrow,mirroredhall,theypassedtwodisconsolatemenwhowerecomingtheotherway,exitingthe

King’spresence.TheyweretheKing’sMinisterofFinance,CharlesAlexanderdeCalonne,andthebanker

JacquesNecker,twomenwhospentgreatenergiesattemptingtoimpressupontheFrenchmonarchthedire

burdenof themany international loans theyhadstructured inorder tosupport thesinkingTreasury.This

effortalwaysfailed,forKingLouishadnointerestinloancollateralandratesofinterest,matterswhichhe

regardedasalmostincomprehensible,andcertainlybeyondhissphereofcontrol.

They arrived at a small, sunny chamber at the rear of the palace, overlooking the stables. It had been

convertedit intoaworkroomtosatisfytheKing’shobby,sothathemighttakesolacefromthefalsehoods

andfripperiesofthecourt,andtheheavyweightofrunningagreatempire.

“TheColonialAmbassador,BenjaminFranklin,”announcedthechamberlain.

KingLouisXIV,whosecoronationhadtakenplacelessthantwoyearsearlier,wasbusywithhisironworks.

Heandhiscompanion,anelderlylocksmith,satatabroadexpanseoftabletops—severaltables,actually,of

variouselevations—whichhelda scalemodel of the legendarily steep stonecanal atCorinth,whichNero

abandonedatthetimeoffallofRome.TherelayarunningfountaintorepresenttheblueAegeanSea,and

scale-modelbargesuponit,andwood-framedearthenberms,andblocksoflimestonetoshoreupthecanal’s

steepsides,andaportageroadalongthetopofthegrade.Highcraneswithhookedchainstoweredoverthe

Peloponnesianend.TheKinghadrecentlyheardofanironbridgebeingbuiltinShropshire,soithadpleased

himtoupgradethetime-lostcanalwithironworks:inthecanalitselfstoodironlocks,tocontroltheflowof

waterandthepassingofships,andavaultingtrellisnowspannedtheminiaturecanal,itspanelsdecorated

withintricatedesignsinthemannerofTitouandhisSpanishchurchgates.

“Anothertime—”TheKingwavedoffhisappointment.

“Hehaswaitedamonth,sire,”repliedthechamberlain,whoseemedtoexpecttheprotestandmadeno

inclinationtomove.

TheKingglancedoverandpursedhislipsandbulgedhiseyesinamockingexpressionofsurrender.He

nodded.Heshookhisforearmsandhands,asthoughheweretremblingwiththeevent’simport.

TheColonialAmbassadorFranklinstrodeforthwithenergyandpurpose.Heunrolledamaponasectionof

thetable,ignoringtoolsandblueprintspursuanttotheCorinthianCanalconstructionbeneath.

“Thank you,my liege.Here, sire, if I can just…there. You can see here the advantageous positions our

variousmilitiasnowhold.”

“IunderstandoneofyourcolonieshasalreadydeclaredindependencefromEngland,”sniffedtheKing.

“Yes.YoumeanVirginia.TheVirginiansareratherimpulsive—”

“Butifyoucannotcontrolyourownbrethren,whathopeisthereofunitinginalengthycampaigntodefeat

thefinestfightingforceintheworld?Youtakemypoint.”

“Ofcourse,ofcourseItakeyourpoint,sire,letmeshow—letmeshowyou,here,Ihaverightherearticles

ofourProvincialCongressbywhichwenowruleourselves.Ineffect,wehavealreadycastouttheBritish

apparatusofgovernment.”TheAmericanambassadorwasnervous,andhiscarefullyrehearsedarguments

spilledoutinanartlesstorrent.Franklinknockedseveraldocumentstothefloor,andattemptedtoignore

them. “These clearly demonstrate the unity which stretches all across the colonies—we are completely

unified, you can see, with your own eyes the signatures of the Virginians. And we will all be declaring

independencesoonenough—aContinentalCongresswillconvenethiscomingsummer—”

“Yes,well.It’sallverywelltodeclareindependence,”commentedtheKing.“TheBritishstillcommandeer

Boston,dotheynot?,withthirtyoftheKingGeorge’sshipsinBostonharbor.

“A lone outpost surrounded by a sea of patriot towns, sire, and plans are afoot as we speak to regain

Boston.Ourpatriotscontrol90%oftheterritories.”

TheKingperusedthemapwithoutcomment.

“Tellme,cousinFranklin.Whowillruleyournewnation?”

Franklinlookedblankforamoment.

“WhowillbeKing?Comecome,youmusthavesomeoneinmind—”

“TherewillbenoactualKing,”saidthecolonial.“Itwillbearepublic.Acommittee,ifyouwill.Ofequals.

Moredirectlytothepoint,asimpledeclarationofyourallianceisouronlychance—fightthemontwofronts

—andprovidegreatprofittoyourprivateers.Here,sire,ifIcanmanageto…unroll…yes,hereismydraftof

whatIcalltheTreatyofCommerceAndMutualDefenseAlliancebetweenourtwonations—”

“Howthoughtfulatitle,”commentedLouis.

“Ihopeso.Humbly.Mynation isentirelypreparedtosign it immediately,sire.Now, ifwemightprevail

uponHisMajestyto—

“Prevail?”

Now,forthefirsttime,theKingstoppedhisironworkingentirely,andlookedupsquarelyintothefaceof

hisvisitor.

“Prevail?Isthatthewordyouused?Isthatwhatyousaid,ordidImisapprehend?”Headjustedoneofthe

miniaturerailedcarts.Franklinstammered.

“Howextraordinary.No,youmaynotprevailuponme.NoneprevailsoverFrance.Noneprevailsoverthe

MonarchofFrance.HowcouldIallowsuchathing?”

TheresourcefulFranklin,beginningtoregainhisbearings,starteduphisargumentanew,sotheKingcut

himoff.

“Mygoodman.MyMinister ofFinancehas just spent the better part of an hour beratingmewith the

consequences of the Assembly rejecting my new taxes. It appears that, through no fault of mine, the

monarchy is burdened with various…obligations. The world is about to end, to hear him describe it. He

assuresmethatwecannotpossibly,possibly,entertaintheideaofinitiatingnewventures.Andcertainly,I

wouldplaceaGlobalWarwithEngland—whichiswhatyouareasking,fortheBritishwillopposeusnotonly

intheAtlantic,buteverywhere—inthecategoryof‘newventures.’Ihopeyouagree.

“JoiningtheAmericancauseagainstEngland,unlessanduntilthecolonialsshowthattheycanwin…isout

ofthequestion.”

Themonarchindicatedthattheinterviewhadconcluded.TheAmericanambassadorbegantoprotestbut

thought better of it, and took his leave. The clicking heels of the visitor retreated into the bowels of the

PalaceatVersailles,thosegrandsymmetricalhallswhereFrance’spastgloriesaresowellrecorded.

“Anirritatingman,”commentedKingLouisXVI.

“Doeshenottakehimselfratherseriously?”themonarchaskedhiscompanion.“A ‘TreatyofCommerce

andMutualDefenseAlliance’?Truly? ‘Mutual’? Is itmutual?Will the colonials rowacross theAtlantic in

theircanoestodefendmypalace,ormantheWestBankwiththeirflintlocksandbuckskins?Bah!”

Secretly, Louis feared that any success of the American colonials against Britain’s ruling class would

embolden theFrenchpeasantry, but hedidnotmention that particular concern.Hedidnot need to: any

reasonablemanwouldwaittoseethemettleofhisallybeforejoininginsuchawar.TheBostonianshadnot

yetproventheycouldwinagainstEngland.WhyshouldFranceriskanythingyet?Europewouldwatchthe

comingmonths’engagementsoftheAmericanrebellionwithparticularinterest.

“Theseinterruptionshavefouledmymood,”saidthemonarch.“Letusrebuildthecanalbanks,Valon,forI

havemadeahashofthefoundations.”

“Wiselyspoken,myliege,”noddedthelocksmith.“Ourprojectwillsoar,nowmorethanever.Yourhonesty

ensuresoursuccess.Ihavetheblocksrighthere.”

15

APRINCERETURNS

SothebrothersandsonsoftheSultanwerelockedawayinthehareminthepalace.Manyofthemwentmad,butmostsimplybecamefatandlazy,addictedtoalcoholandfoodandlyingabout.

—UssamaS.Makdisi

TopkapiPalace,Constantinople,September1777

Asmall,reedymanemergedbackwardsfromahiddendoorwayinthebreezypalacecorridor,draggingan

object,andbumpeddirectlyintothePrince.

“PrinceMahmoud!Isityou?”

Themanfelltohisknees,dumbfounded.

“Butyourshipisnotdueuntilthisevening—”

“Yilmaz.Itisgoodtoseeyou—”

ThePrinceknelttohelpthemanrise.

“HowcouldIknow?”Thewretchedmanremovedhisclothheadpieceandwrungitinhishands.“Iwasjust

nowmakingpreparationsforthecelebration—”

“Rise,rise,alliswell,”thePrinceassuredhim,“IaskedtheCaptaintolandatthesummergatesothatI

mightsurpriseMother—”

“Surprise! Shewill die from joy,my prince. I feel dizzymyself. You have returned, and somanly! Your

fathertheSultanisaway,visitingthenorthernprovinces—”

“Yes,yes,pleaserise,dearfriend—”

“Ah!YousoundlikeaKing,Mahmet.Yourwordsaremeasured.Yourvoicedeeper.Howyouthriveamong

theFranks!Oh,praiseAllah—youwillmakethegreatestofallCaliphs—”

Themanprostratedhimselfonthecoolmarblefloor.

Seeingthis,Mahmet’smoodtookaviolentturn.Hegrabbedtheservantbytheshouldersandshookhim.

“YOUDONOTabaseyourselflikethatforanotherhuman!”

PrinceMahmetunleashedatorrentofangryinvective—“Haverespect,man!”and“Youhavefreewill!”—

firstinTurkish,theninArabic,thenalongstretchinGerman,thencameafountainofcursesanddramatic

gestures regarding the backward customs of this accursed nation and how he himself was so utterly

misunderstood, endingwith thePrince removinghis jeweledbelt andhurling it onto thepolishedmarble

floorandstompingonitoverandover,tothemanservant’sastonishment.“Nomanisanother’sslave!Never,

never,neverdothatagain—”

Prince Mahmoud Mustafa Hasan Husameddin Cezayrili, son of the second wife of Sultan Abdulhamid,

Caliph of all Muslims, Secular Ruler of All the Ottoman Empire heir to the Ottoman throne, turned the

cornertostridedownthemarbledhallwaysofthefourthandinnermostcourtyardoftheTopkapiPalace.

Hewalkedeasily,withthecertaintyofyouth,hisflowingrobesswishingonthefloor.Helookedleftand

right as hewalked, his features registering a familiar sound or sight or fragrance. Baby fat still hid the

contoursoftheadultfeatureswhichwerejustbeginningtoemerge:theplanesofhisfacehadsettledduring

hisyearattheAcademyofAuvergne,andadifferent,morematurelookhadcomeintohiskeeneyes.Sea

breezesruffledthelongcurtainsalongthequietcorridorashepassed.

Apairofostriches,hearingthetantrum,wanderedoverfromtheadjacentgarden,andpokedtheirsnouts

throughthecurtains.

Twocatstrailedaftertheostriches.

Adogfollowedthecat.

ThedogrecognizedMahmetandbarked,jumpinguphappily.

Agirlheardthedogbarkingandcameboundingaroundthecorridor’sfarendandscreamedwithdelight

atthesightofherbrother:shewasMahmet’ssister,Julide.

More hooved and pawed members of the bestiary arrived. The Sultan’s sixth wife, Mahmet’s mother,

Bayazid,heardherdaughter’ssqueal,androundedthecorner,herattendantsclosebehind,andseeingher

belovedsonsheclaspedherhandstogetherandweptandOh,whatcommotionfollowed,withguardsofthe

janissarieslayingdowntheirswordstogreetthelaughingPrince,whilehissecondsister,Papatya,hugged

hiskneesandallthebarkingdogswaggedtheirtails.

Mahmetwashome.

Theprocessionmovedslowlythroughthetombs.

Torchescastlongandflickeringshadowsamongthevastjumbleofstrange,toweringformsastheypassed.

Thepriestchantedprayers.

“ThereisnoGodbutgod,”hesaid.

Mahmet’s secondsister,Papatya,whosemindwasslow, repeated thepriest’schants inherownbroken

litany.Thecolossaltombsabsorbedallthesesounds.

ThePrince’sancestorsneeded toseehim.Mahmudandhis familymade theirway through themassive

diversiontunnelsdugbytheRomans,deepbeneaththemosque.Theypassedgiantchipped-tilewallmosaics

ofancientByzantium,depictionsofthemanycivilizationswhichhadcontributedtothecity’shistory:Greek,

Roman,Hittite,Byzantine,Phoenician,Assyrian,andmore.Mightyrulersandmightybattlesweredepicted

there,walldrawingsof IlyasBey, rulerofHamidogullari, time-leechedpaintingsof theclashbetween the

VenetiansandtheforcesofAlexius,andthesiegeofMohammedtheConquerorbyGiustaniandhisforestof

archers. The little procession passed beneath the base of gigantic basalt statues of gods from the

Commagene,suchascanstillbeseenatNemrut.Theycouldglimpsemassivetotemsofdefeatedpeoples.

TheflickeringlightreflectedonhieroglyphsofDogubeyazit,andArarat,andthelegendaryarcoftheflood,

and representations of prehistoric forces of nature, the Yer-sub, genies and spirits dwelling in hills and

springs.

“Ourancestorswillrejoicetoseeyou,Mamhet,”whisperedJulide.“Youaresohandsomenow.”

Their mother, Bayazid, smiled and held her finger to her mouth. “Let our demeanors be correct,” she

whispered,usingthetermsahb,whichmeans“correct”butalsosomethingslightlymore:athingwhichis

sahb ismorethanmerelyright inappearance,butright in itssubstance,correct inahighersense.Agun

madeintheImperialArmorymarkedwiththewordsahb isassuredofhavingbeingconstructedcorrectly.

Bayazidwantedherson’sancestorstoseehim,andhowtallhewasgrowing,andtoapprove,andhelphim

findhisplaceintheworld,sothatallwithhiminthisrealmandthenextcouldberight.Sahb.

TheypassedthetombsofthefamilieswhohadservedtheSultansoverthecenturies:theTurkishKoprulu;

theItaliandeTestas;theGreekMavrocordatos;theHashemites,fromMecca.

“Allahuakbar,”chantedthepriest.“Godisgreat.”

Theprocessionreachedthefamilysepulchre.

Thedeadneedtoviewtheliving,fromtimetotime,tosurveytheirprogressinthenoisybrightrealm,and

toremindthemthatalltheythinkisnewhashappenedbefore.

Theystoppedandcircled,andlaydownrugs.

Mahmet read the names of his dead uncles and aunts and grandfathers and great-grandmothers. He

touchedthenamesontheirburialtombs.Scatteredaboutthedustychamberwereartifactsburiedwiththe

menandwomenofthepast:glassteardropvials,silverjewelry,bronzecrosspendants,andfibulas,Roman

oillamps,flasksofcoloredglass.

Theykneltontherugs.

“Tellusofourlives,honoredones.Ifearnotformyownfate,”thepriestsaid,“Ihavelivedtoenjoythe

sacrificesmyancestors.”Hesoughttoestablishasalaat,aconsultationwiththewisedead,areminder,a

glimpseofguidancefortheliving.

Thetorchesburned.ThegirlPapatyamimickedthepriest’sprayers.Thelivingmurmuredtotheancient

dead.Stonesymbolsofgodsfromanotherageandpaintingsofbravedeedslongburiedbytimelookedon.

Theshadowsofthetombs,darkereventhanthatwhichisneitherdaynornight,deepened.

16

MAHMET’SPIPING

Weshallseechangesthatwillsurprisetheidiotswhohavenoforesight…—GeorgeOrwell

Theservantsofthepalacemurmuredintheslantedmorninglight.

Theyclimbedthenarrowladderstotheroof-top.

Theoldman,Yilmaz,sippedfromaporcelaincupofstrongcoffee.Thissectionofthepalaceroofoverhung

theresidentialandharembath-houses,and thesedozenservantswouldspend thedayrunning toand fro

alongwell-wornpathways,heatingcauldron-fulsofwateranddeliveringitasthebathersrequired.Asthey

climbed the ladders, they could hear birds chirping in the hush that follows dawn, birds calling to their

rookeries,braggingtotheirrivals,warningtheirfoesaway,announcingthecomingday.

There,ontheslightly-crownedbutmostlyflatexpansesofroofabovethebath-house,wasPrinceMahmet.

Hewas holding a length of pipe. Princess Julidewas there, too; she held a handful of kindling, andwas

feedingafiresetinanirongrating.Behindthem,membersofthepalaceguardwerebusylayingpipealong

theraingutters.

“Ma-ma-myP-p-prince…”stammeredYilmaz.

“Youareearly,Yilmaz,”saidMahmetwithabow.“Wearenotquitedone.”

Allthecauldronshadbeengatheredfromahalf-dozenstationsaroundtheroofandplacedtogether,inthe

crowned or slightly raised section of roof. A healthy fire blazed in the iron gratings beneath this

congregation of kettles, and they could hear hot water bubbling. Large sections of wide-gauged copper

chuteshadbeenlaidfromthecrownalongtheraingutters,withnarrowerpipingleadingtothebath-pipe

stationswhichwerescatteredaroundthebroadexpanseofroof.Cordsofneatlystackedflankedthesingle

cauldron-station. They could see that a bellows had been borrowed from the forges to make the job of

stokingtheflameseasier.

“Seehow thepiping takes thehotwater toeachof the individualbaths,”explainedMahmetwith some

pride.“Now,insteadofaservantstandingovereachstation,waitingallday,youcansitinoneplace.”The

hot-watersystemhadbeenreconfigured,sothattheonecentralfirefedeachbathstall.“Youwillnotburn

your feet walking over the hot roof, or burn your hands tipping the kettles. The water arrives at its

catchmentlikeastream.See?”Heturnedaspigottooneofthelesserflumesoffandon;theycouldhearthe

swishofwaterashedidso.

“See,Ihavehiddenthepipingalongthegutters,soMothercannotcomplainthatIhaveruinedherroof-

line.”

“Itisamarvel,myPrince.”

“Youshallhaveademonstration.Papatya!”

There camea scurrying frombelow, and abell tied to a long tetherwhich snaked through the cowling

rang.

“Nono,Papatya.Runtheshower.”

Intheharembath,below,Papatyaopenedthefaucetwithametalliccrankingsound—thesignalforhot

water.Ratherruntocarryscaldingwaterinbucketsandpouritdownthedrain,orvent,intoholdingtanks,

usingragstoprotecthishandsfromthescaldingwater,Mahmetsimplyturnedthespigot.Hotwaterchased

downtheslopedroof,throughthepiping,alongthegutters,anddownthedropventatthepointofuse.

Theycouldhearthelaughteroftheconcubines.Theyheardthepatterofrunningfeet.Asecondbellrang,

andathird.Mahmetlaughed.“Theywanttotestus—”

Theyheardmorefaucetsbeingturned.Julidecircledthekettles,andturnedmoreofthespigots,andsoon

hotwaterflowedinalldirections.

Mahmetsmiledattheoldmanservant.

“Areyoupleased,Yilmaz?Doesitnotmakeyourtaskeasier?”

“Royal One, there is no limit to your wisdom.” The old man began to supplicate himself, then he

remembered,andcontentedhimselfwithadeepbow.

“Ihavestolenthedesign,Yilmaz:aChineseprincessdevisedthis,Ihavemerelyadaptedit.Iamtoostupid

toknowhowtoproperlyinsulatethepipefromthetiles,soIhavesimplyshovedmudandclayaroundthem.

Isitnotugly?Butyoudolikeit?Truly?”

ThePrincerubbedhishandsonadirtycloth.

“Itis…sahb,”pronounced theoldmanashesurveyed thenetworkofpipesandchutes,using thatword

whichmeanscorrect,butcorrectinthehighestsenseofcorrectness.

“Itisathingmostsahb.”

“Ah,” saidMahmet. “I am glad you like it. If it works, perhaps we can do the same for theMahalle,”

meaningthenearbyneighborhoodwherethemaritimeworking-classfamilieslived.

Flushedwaterpoureddownthechutesandpipeswithanamiablesploosh.

“Allahuakbar,”saidtheoldman.“Allahbepraised!”

AndherepeatedthephraseoverandoveruntilhesawthatPrinceMahmetwasabouttosaysomething.

Thentheprincethoughtbetterofit,andcrouchedonceagain,toseeifhecouldfitthepipingmoreperfectly.

17

THEBOATYARDS

TheSultansabandonedthepracticeoftrainingtheirsonstoassumetheSultanatebyhavingthemserveinthemilitary.ThisdeclineintheSultanateisregardedasoneoftheprimecausesoftheOttomanEmpire’sfall.

—UssamaS.Makdisi

Athisstoneforgeinthecenteroftheshipyard,Kace,theCossack,crashedhishammerontheanvil.

Evenasthedownwardstrikesentashowerofsparkssplaying,theman’scordedrightarmroseinaneven,

steadymovement, to falloncemore, inapersonaldisplayofcontrolledfurythatkeptupuntil thered-hot

metalhadyielded,andsurrenderedtothepreciseformheintended.OnlythendidKacelookupandnodto

theanxiousboywhostokedthebellows,indicatinghecouldslacken.Heglancedtwicealongthelengthof

sheathtoinspectitsdelicatearch,tomakessurehehadsmoothedallitsseamsanddents.Hegruntedhis

satisfaction:thecenterboardwouldholdthistime,inanywaters,foraslongastheboat’shullwasintact,

andprobablywell beyond that.Heplunged thehotmetalhissing into the caskofwaternearby.Scalding

steamshotup.

“Thenewboyishere,”shoutedoneofthecaulkers.

Kacelookedup.

Solidlymuscled,Kaceseemedaswideashewastall.Whileheworkedatatrade,andknewitwell,hewas

not a tradesman by nature; while he currently employed two dozen men in his shop, he was not a

shopkeeper:Kacewasanadventurer,oneofthathard-eyedbreedwhoseeopportunityinshiftingconditions,

andmoveconstantlytowardsthem,withoneeyealwaysonthehorizon.HehadleftYakakent,alittleporton

the Tatar coast, working on a trawler, and stayed in Constantinople because there were toomany ships

passing through the Bosporus in need of repairs, and not enough men skilled in metal, wood, and the

componenttradestorepairthem.Hescouredhullsforthefishermenatfirst,andmendedbrokenoars,then

tookonlargerjobsamongtheRussianpilots,andtheSlavs,ashisreputationforworkmanshipgrew.

Kacewasamanwhokepthisword,amanwhochargedeachclientthesamefeeforworkdone;oneof

thosemenwhoseemuchbutspeaklittle,menwhoneveraskforfavorbutoftengiveit.Youmayknowone

ortwolikehiminyourlifetime,andyoumaycountyourselfluckyifyoudo,foritisthequietmanlikeKace

whotipshumanevents,greatandsmall,forthegood.Once,hehadriddentoAnsaldoPoint,androwedout

inaskifftointerceptaPortuguesecarrackandreturnmoneywhichhadbeenoverpaidhim.Hearingofthis,

Cynthiana, theHarborMistress,hadgivenKacea second-gradeshipwright’s licenseanda favorable stall

nearthebroad-way.

“STOP!SLOWDOWN!”KacescreamedatMahmet.

BeadsofsweatdecoratedthetattooontheskinofthetopofthewristofPrinceMahmetasheworkedthe

forge.

Itwasasmallishtattoo,astattoosgo,and,seenfromadistance,oneofsimpledesign:blackoutlinesofa

lineinacircleinasquare.Ifyoulookedatitclosely,youcouldseethatthelinewasthehandleofaspoon,or

ladle.Themagentacirclefromwhichitprotrudedwasactuallytwocircles:thesmallerwastheveryshallow

bowlofthespoon,andthelargercircle,renderedinblue,representedalodestone.Therust-coloredsquare

representedabronzediviner’s board,where laydesignsof the twenty-eight lunarmansions, to catch the

castings of the handle’s shadow. The tattoo depicted aChinese compass, from the days of Juan, theHan

mathematician,and,inthewest,CatoandwiseGaiusMariusandPerseus,lastoftheMacedoniankings.All

navigatorsknewthemeaningof thepresenceof that tattoo,asdidbuccaneersofeverystripe,andship’s

officerswhosailedunderallflags,andmostofthecommonsailorsandmerchantseamen,andmanyofthose

whomadetheirlivingsinportsaswell.

“It’sTOOMUCH!”

ThemusclesbeneaththeskinoftheforearmmovedandpulsedasMahmudtriedinvaintokeepupwith

theblacksmithKace.Hewastryingtoohard,pushingthebellowstoohard,pushingtoomuchair intothe

ventslats.

“CanyounotseethecindersFLYING!”

Mahmetconcentrated,andslowedhispace.Theflamesquieted,adegreeortwo.

Kacegrunted.

“Takethetongsboy.Thereyougo.Carefulnow—”

Together,theyliftedthemetaltillersheathing:itwasasinglepieceofdelicatelycurvedmetal,almostfive

feetlong,andtheyhadbeenworkingonitallmorning.Sprucewoodwouldfitintothedozenclampswhich

Kacehad forged into the sheath, and, once assembled, no current in anybody ofwaterwouldbend that

tiller,orcompromiseitspurpose.Thehotmetalglowedredasthetwogingerlylifteditontothesidebar.

The other yard boys,many of them crude country boys from small villages in theUralMountains, still

made the broom boy (Mahmet, that is) do all the low tasks, and he was always last to eat, but no one

complainedabouthowcleanthestationswereeachmorning,orhowtheteawasalwayshot,andtheblades

alwaysfreshlysharpened.KacemadeMahmetworklongandhardateachofthestations,sohecouldlearn

everyprocessashipwrightmustknow,andlearnitintheclosedetailanapprenticelearnsit.

“No,no,no,”warnedKace,hisvoicerisingasthehotmetalsheathslipped.

“WATCHIT—”

The tiller’s lowerendslipped fromMahmoud’s tongs.Without thinking,Mahmet reachedout tograb it:

therewasaquicksizzlingsoundashishandtouchedthehotmetalandthesmellofburningflesh.Hejerked

hishandaway.KacedashedMahmoud’shandintoabucketofwaterandcalledforointment.Theshipwright

retrieved the tiller from the sandanddashed it into coldwater,deftly scraping the sandparticlesoff the

smoothsurface.HeappliedthesalvetoMahmet’sburnedhand.

“It’snottoobad—”

Amessengerranupashewaswrappingthehandwithabandage.

The messenger spoke in rapid-fire French, taking Kace aback, until Kace realized the messenger was

talkingnottohimbuttoMahmet.

MahmoudconversedwiththemessengerinFrench.HeturnedtoKace.

“TheAstrolabeneedsanewgudgeon.Canyoucanfixit?”

“TheAstrolabe?”askedKaceindisbelief.“LaPerouse’sownship?”

“Yes,”repliedMahmet.

TheFrenchmessenger,recognizingtheship’sname,noddedinencouragement.

“Boy,thatisoneofthefinestshipswhichsailthebluewaters.I’llwagercanfixanymetalfittingbuiltby

thehandofman,but—”

TheFrenchmessengerspokeagain,rapidly.

“Theentirepintlemechanismisapparentlynotworkingproperly,”translatedMahmet.“LaPerousewants

toreplaceitentirely,andhehasheardyouarethebestshipwrightintheport.TheybelievetheBosnianisan

incompetentcrook.”

“Thatheis—”Kacestartedtoreply,butthemessengerhadmoretosay.

“Perhapsallthetillerclipsanddoublets,aswell,”saidMahmet.“Apparently,theyweredamagedwhenthe

expeditionmadeanabruptexitfromagroupofaborigines.”MahmoudthennamedthepricetheFrenchmen

werewillingtopay.Kace’seyesgrewlarge.

ThemessengerlookedexpectantlyatKace,thenatMahmet.

Kacenoddedhishead.

Mahmetspoketothemessenger,whoaskedtwoquestions,listenedcarefullytotheanswers,handedover

anoteand,withapolitebow,departed.

“You may buy whatever material you need this afternoon,” said Mahmoud to his master, the Cossack

shipwrightKace.“Thisistheirmarker,whichyoucanshowtothemerchants.Heaskedmetowriteupthe

contractanddeliveritwithinthehour.”Mahmetwincedashere-wrappedthebandagearoundhisburned

lefthand.“TheyhaveheardyouareamostdifficultCossackkychetbka.”(Thewordheactuallyusedwasfar

worsethanthis).“Isaidthatyouwereanhonesttradesman,onewhobrookedneitherobstaclenorexcuse

when it came to doing the best work for his clients, and that all may profit from your devoted

craftsmanship.”

Mahmet had not noticed that the other yard workers, especially the hard-working Sich (that is the

Zaporozhtsi,youngmembersofthatlong-downtroddenmountaintribe)boys,werenotentirelypleasedthat

thenewestamongthemwaselevatinghispositionsoquickly.Thesesullen,less-than-skilledlads,fromthe

landsbeyondtherapids,nursedaresentmentofallOttomanTurks,andregardedthemasthelatestwaveof

oppressors.Theyhadwellnotedthefatbroom-boy’slineageasheclimbedKace’sladder.Souchakandthe

restofKace’sforemenwerecarefultoseparateMahmoudfromtheothers,andrarely lethimoutoftheir

sight,fortheyunderstoodthenewbusinesshecouldbringtotheshop.

OnthenightofMahmet’ssecondpayday,KaceleftearlywiththreeofhisforementoinstalltheAstrolabe’s

rudderworks.Theforemenwenthometotheirfamilies,thecrewwenttotheill-littavernsofthecrooked

streetsofKodosky(onceChalcedon)precinttospendtheirmoney.Aroundmidnight,asmallbandoftheSich

apprenticesgathered in thedesertedshipyard,huddled in themoon-shadowsbeneath theraisedhullofa

caravel,crouching,whisperinginthesilver-litsandpits,pointingtotheshackwhereMahmoudslept.

Theyardboyswaited,tobesurethatallofthesupervisorshadleft.

TheywaiteduntilthePortwatchmenhadmadetheirroundsthroughthedistrict.

Oneofthemhadmeattocoaxoutthedogs.

Severalcarriedtorchesastheysnuckuptosurroundtheshack.

Theyfedthemeattothedogs,whosnarled,sensingthatsomethingwasabouttobeverywrong.Theytied

ragsaroundthedogs’muzzles.

Intherealworld,therearerarelyfriendlyenemies,rivalswhofight,butfightasgentlemen,combatants

withmutualrespect;theseexistmostlyinbooks.TheZaporozhtsidraggedMahmetfromhisshedandbeat

him.Itwasnotaschoolboybeating,orsomeceremonialtusslesuchasmightdeliverawarning:fromthe

firstwickedblow,thiswasapurposefulsavaging,onewithmurderousintent.Theytookaimathisface,and

hisinternalorgans.Theytookturns.

“Mercy,”whisperedMahmet.

“Thereisnomercyinthisworld,”respondedStepan,thegang’sleader.

Ametalbarwasraisedandtheystruckthefatbroom-boyanew.Somethingsnapped.

Suddenlyoneoftheyoungerboyswailed.

“Stop!Stop!”hecried,anoteofrealdesperationinhisvoice.Hethrewhimselfbetweentheattackersand

theirvictim,wavinghisarmsfrantically.

Theyallfrozeinplace.

“What?Isitawatchman—”askedStepaninahoarsewhisper.

The young Cossack pointed to the victim’s left hand. A bandage which had been wrapped around the

broom-boy’shandhadunraveled:inthemoonlight,theycouldseeasmalltattooonhiswrist.Itwasatattoo

ofanold-fashionedcompass.

NowtheyoungSichwaswailingmiserably,hoppingaroundtheshed,inconsolable.

“Areyouhurt?”askedhismates.“Butheisnotevenfightingback—”

“No,no,no,”criedtheboywhohadseenthetattoo.“WeareallDEAD!Oh,fortheloveofGod—wedidn’t

know!Whydidn’tweKNOW?”Hecontinuedoninthiswretchedvein,thenswitchedtogibberingabouthis

poorfamilyandthehorrorsthatwouldsoonbefallthem.

Withagasp,oneoftheothersspottedthetattoo.HeheldMahmoud’slimparmout,inthemoonlight,so

theotherscouldsee.

“Whatisit?”askedoneoftheespeciallystupidyouth.“Atattoo.Sowhat?”askedanother.

“Wemustrunasfarandasfastaswecan,thoughitwilldousnogood,”declaredtheeldestamongthem.

Grim-faced,hestood,nolongerseemingquitesoyoung:hedroppedhistorchandlopedpurposefullyacross

thewhitesandsintotheswallowingshadowsofnight,andwasgone.

Theboywhohadfirstseenthemarkingranafterhim,stillwailing.Somewithcurses,somepalewitha

suddenunderstanding,oneortwo,likeStepan,stillmakingnosenseofitall,theothersfollowed,untilthe

yardwasonceagainsilent,butforthedogs’muffledwhimpersandtheraspingbreathsofthecrumpledform

whichlayontheverycleanplanksoftheboardwalk,face-down,inadeepeningpoolofblood.

ThewatchmanofaneighboringshoprantofetchKace.

KacefoundMahmetunconscious.Hisclothingwassoakedinblood.Kacecarefullycarriedtheboyonhis

armsandlayhimonthesturdytablebytheforge,wherehecouldseehiswounds.Thetwodogswatched

closely,disturbedbyMahmet’sraggedgasps,andtheshudderingsoundsmadewhenathroatischokedwith

blood.

“Allright,”saidKace.

“Listentome,boy:youarehurt,butnottoobadly.Yournoseisbroken.Ineedtogetitbackinitsproper

place.Doyouunderstand?”

The eyes in that swollen, bloody face had come alive. They looked at Kace now, with all their fierce

understanding,widewithincomprehension,terriblyshaken:Kacecouldseethattheboywasfrightenedby

thepain.Hehasneverbeeninafightbefore…Hedidnotunderstandwhyhehadbeenbeaten;hedidnot

knowthatsuchpersonalcrueltyevenexisted.Yethewastryingtocalmhimself.

Heistrying,thoughtKace.Heiswilling.

Thegripontheman’swristwaslikeavise.

“Lookatme,son.YoucannotbreatheproperlyunlessIrightit.Ihavesentforasurgeon,butthereisno

time.Ican’twait.Doyouunderstand?”

“Iunderstand,”saidMahmet,throughbloodiedlips.

“Goodboy.Gripmetight,tightasyoucan.Thiswillhurt—”

Kacetookoneofhismetalclampsandfixedthenose.

“Ihavefound,asImoveabout,”saidKaceashesetabouthisbloodytask,“thatsomemenwilllikeyou,

andsomewilldislikeyou.Itislittlematter,forallhonestmencangetalonginthecourseofaday’swork.

Buttheremaybeafewyoucannotreasonwith.”Hestraightenedforamoment,toseehisprogress.“Those,

youneedtokill.”

Kacedidnotgetthebrokennosefixedthefirsttime,andhadtorepeattheprocedure.

Noscreamtorethenight.Thewatchmanwhoheldthelanternfainted.Kacefinished,andsteppedback.

Helistenedtotheboy’sbreathing,smoothernow.Thewatchmanmutteredaprayer,seekingAllah’sgrace

forthescarredboy.

“It’snosurgeon’swork,butitwilldo,”gruntedKacewithsatisfaction.

Hefetchedwaterintwobucketssohecouldcleantheboy’swounds.Thepatientwouldlive.Lyingfaceup,

onthetablebytheforge,hiseyesonthestars,Mahmetrepeatedtheprayertohisancestors,overandover.

Hedidnotweepforhimself,orcomplain,butgrippedKace’sarmverytight.

Beneaththisroundboywemayyetfindaman,Kaceremarkedtohimself.

18

ANAUDIENCEWITHTHESULTAN

Oman!Placenotthyconfidenceinthispresentworld!

—EdwardGibbon

“Youhavebeeninjured,”saidSultanAbdulhamidAhmedResmiMustafaHasanHusameddinCezayrili,sonof

thefirstwifeofAhmedResmiEfendi,CaliphofallMuslims,RuleroftheOttomanEmpire,tohisson,Prince

Mahmet.

Mildconcerntingedthefather’sthinanddistantvoice.

“Itisnothing,”saidthePrince.

ButeventheSultan,thatmostself-absorbedofmen,couldseethattheboy’sonce-perfectnosehadbeen

broken.

The Cossack’s tongs had left a distinctive scar, jagged and angled, across its bridge. That, and some

bruising under the eyes, and a muscularity about the shoulders that had not been present before, gave

Mahmetadifferentaspect,ashestoodinthesumptuousofficechambersofhisfather,theSultan.

ThePrincewaswearinghisfavoritejacket,thered,high-collaredoneembroideredwithcelestialdesigns,

butitdidnotfitquitethesame.TheSultan,whosawMahmoudonlyintermittently,blinked,andlookedat

hissonforanextramoment.

TheSultan’sexpansiveofficesoverlooked theharemcourtyardand,downhill fromthem,past thewalls,

the kitchens and bakeries where Mahmet and his brothers, Kemal and Amir, had recently ridden their

horses.Greatpiecesofheavywoodfurniturewereplacedabouttheroomlikepiecesonastage.Ceremonial

objectdecoratedshelvesbuiltintothewalls,portraitsofwarlords,framedproclamations,awards,artifacts

oftheempire.Mahmet’seyefelluponhugeboundbooksofchartswhichsatonthemahoganydesk.

“GiftsfromtheSayafidCaliph,”saidhisfather.“IbnSa’iddrewtheminthe12thcentury.Theyshowevery

capeandbayontheMediterraneancoastlines.Canyouimagine?Those,there,totheleft,thoseareofthe

Turkishnavigator,PiriReis.Moreartful,Ithink.Lessaccurate.”

“Howdidyoufindthenorthernprovinces,Father?”

“Mostagreeable.Ourfoodwasexcellent,butfortheviands,whichtendedtogripmystomachterribly.I

couldnotdigestthemproperly,theyweresoinferior.”

Sultan Abdulhamid II’s face was thin, with a high forehead. His features, like his son’s, were refined,

almost delicate. His eyes, however, were smaller, and not so bright as Mahmet’s: his high cheekbones

seemedtoblockthem,andcastashadowoverhis fullmoustache.SultanAbdulhamidIIwasdressed ina

formalmilitaryuniform,whichhefavoredwhenhespenttimeintheTopkapigrounds.

“Oh,youmeanthepoliticsofitall.Well,theCircassiansarehardheaded.Gunseli,”hesaid,referringtothe

MinisterofFinance,“tellsmehehadsomeproductivetalkswiththeirmerchants.”

“Are they willing to tithe for the new navy?” askedMahmet, referring to the generation-long effort to

mountaproperOttomanfleettoprotectitsmerchants’shipsandbeatbackportblockadesandseizures-at-

seabythebullyBritish.

“I’msureIdon’tknow.Theyseemedlikeverypleasantfellows,ifthatisanyindication.”

Mahmet’sfather,SultanAbdulhamidtheSecond,hadcometopowerduringatimeofexplosivegrowthand

unprecedentedwealthofcommerce,practicallynoneofwhichtheOttomanEmpiresharedin.Preoccupied

with internal affairs, the Ottoman Empire let the Age of Exploration pass it by. Suspicious Sultans had

bickeredovercontrolwiththeirownvizierandtheDiwan(orSupremeCourt),powerpassedtothemilitary

class, the janissaries,whocaredonly for thepossessionofpower,andnot itsexercise in the serviceofa

common good. The government was filled with sons of sons of bureaucrats, men who had gained their

positionsnotbymeritbutbyinheritance.TherulingclassesstrangledOttomanTurkey.TheOttomanEmpire

hadneglectedtosendasingleexplorerintothenewoceans.ForallthePortugueseandEnglishandSpanish

and French explorers, there were no Turks, save Piri Reis, a 16th Century admiral andmost competent

cartographer.Asthrillingaccountsofdiscoveredlandsandspicesandtomatoesandteasandsavagescladin

goldrobescamebacktotheportsofwesternEurope,theOttomansdidnothing.NoTurkishbankersstepped

forwardtosponsorvoyages.Nomonarchassembledtheculture’swisemen,asHenrytheNavigatordid,to

imaginethecontoursofthesenewcontinents,andplothowtosailthem.Nocollectiveofmerchantsformed,

boldmenwillingtorisktheirmoneytolaunchTurkishexpeditions;noHudsonBayCompanyorDutchEast

IndiaCompanyappearedtofinancesuchvoyages,noraLloyds’toinsurethem,andsoforth.TheOttoman

Sultan was left to make the rounds of his dwindling territories, trying to placate rebel states who were

restlessforastakeinaworldthatwaspassingthemby.Abdulhamidruledakingdomwhoseeconomyand

fortuneswereshrinking.

“AndhowislifeamongtheFranks?”theSultanaskedhismostcapableson.By‘Franks’hemeantnotonly

theFrench,butWesternersasawhole(includingallRussianswestofMoscow).

“HowdidtheyteachthebattleofByzantium,eh?AndDiu?WeretheyvictoriesfortheChristians?Withten

thousanddead,andtheEuropeanarmiesleftintatters?”Helaughedbitterly.

“Oh, it suits the Franks to tilt all the histories. They tell themselves the flattering story. They paint

themselves as heroes. Explorers. Crusaders. The hope of the pious peoples of the world. It is they who

encourageournorthernrebelsintowarwithus,youknow.TheGermanconsulatTangiers,amanapparently

lackingindiscretionwhendrinking,spilledthatlittlesecret.Yes.Hemostcertainlydid.TheKingofNorway

meanstoinvadeusthissummer,bytheway…”

ThisseemedtoMahmoudanoddnotion,thataScandinavianmonarchwouldchoosetolaunchanassault

ontheOttomans,especiallyinlightofKingHarald’spreoccupationwithhiscountry’sterritorialwarswith

Sweden.

“APortuguesemercenarymentioned it toan Irishman ina tavern lastweek inMorocco.Yes.Myagents

keepmeinformedofalltheplotsagainstus,allacrosstheContinent—”Hewavedhishand,tosuggesthis

masteryoveraswathofterritorystretchingfromthesouthernmosttipofsunnyItalytothefish-filledfjords

ofthefrozennorth.

“Oh,theChristianshavedevelopedatasteforthegoodsoftheEast,”saidMahmet’sfather.“Oh,yes.”

Itwashisfavoritetheme.“EversincetheoverlandroutesfellintoMuslimhands,inthetimeofOsman,and

theemiratesofGhazi,theEuropeanshavedesiredwhatwepossess.Desireditmostterribly.TheCrusades

onlywhettedtheirappetites:intheircrusadingpursuits,theChristiansdevelopedatasteforthefruitsofthe

Orient.Andwearetheonlygateway!UnlessyoupreferawaterydeathdyingtryingtoroundtheCapeof

Africa.ManyaretheGenoese,thehappyGreeks,andtheDogesofVenice,whohaveengorgedthemselveson

thebanksoftheBosporus.You,Mahmoud,youinparticularhaveanappreciationofallthecomplexities…all

thatImustdealwith.Inmyfather’sday,theoppositionwasclearandoutintheopen:today,itisseditionof

themostperniciouskind…”

Ashelistenedtotheopeninglinesofhisfather’swell-wornspeech,itdawnedonMahmetthathisfather

didnothavethefirstideaofwhathewastalkingabout.

Every youth experiences the sudden insight that his father is merely human—not all-powerful, or

particularlywise, justamanlivingwithwhatsad limitationsweeachbear.So itwas inthismomentwith

Mahmet: he stared at his father as though seeing him for the first time.Mahmet realized his father had

never cracked the cover of any one of Ibn Sa’id’s journals: hewas just parroting someworldly-sounding

commentshehadheardmadebyCynthiana,orGunseli,orsomeotherlearnedperson.Thisrealizationdid

notembitterMahmet:justtheopposite,itmadehimfeelsorryforhisfather,aparenthehadneverknown

closelybutwhohebelievedtrulylovedhim.Hisfatherwasnotarealman,likeKace,orMasterFrestel,but

apretendman.Struttinginhisceremonialuniform,inanofficefullofceremonialpaintingsandceremonial

booksanddeskswhichwereneverused,heseemedlikeanactordoinganimpersonationofaSultan:one

whohadbeenthrownintothefamilybusiness,onlytofindthathehadnocapacityforit.SultanAbdulhamid

the Second, Caliph of All Caliphs, was scared—scared of Europe, frightened by his own soldiers and

ministers, intimidated by the northern rebels, scared moreover by the complexities and overwhelming

responsibilitiesofleadinganation.

“Amirtoldmetherewasanewtimetableforthesuccession,”saidMahmet.

The Sultan looked up sharply, as though he had not at all expected Mahmet to initiate this line of

questioning.

“YoumustmeetSabahat,”hesaid,ofhisnewwife.“Sheisquiteclever.”

TheSultanfiddledwiththesilverbeltonhisuniform,flickingawaysomeerrantspeckofdirt.

“WhilewewereinspectingthecavesinCircassia,Sabahatgavebirth,”saidtheSultan.

“Toason.”

Mahmetcouldnotbreathe.Hisskullbecamelight,asifall itscontentswereturningtovapor.Theroom

seemed tostartwhirling, ina tiltedorbit,with itsaxis justbetweenMahmet’s two feet.He lookeddown.

Howcurious…Mahmoudwonderedifhewasstillstanding,orifhehadbeenknockedtothepolishedfloor:

seeinghisfatherandall theroom’sfurnishingsstill inanuprightposition,hedecidedthathewas indeed

standing.

Mahmet’sfatherhadsaidonethingwhilemeaningsomealtogetherdifferentthing.

“I—I—”Mahmettriedtoformsomekindofresponse,acongratulatoryphrase,something,butthewords

wouldnotform.

His father acknowledged the unfinished comment with a nod of the head, as though they were both

readinglinestheyhadrehearsedatsomeearliertime.

“HisnameisCem,”saidtheSultanproudly.

“Cem,”theSultanrepeated,asthoughsampling,inhismind,variousappellationsthatmightfollowit.

CemtheJust…CemtheResolute…CemtheReformer…

Justtomakethenewsituationperfectlyclear,headded:

“Cemwillascendtomythrone.Youwillserveashismostvaluedadvisor.”

TheSultanmovedavaseof tulipson thedeskabit, so that thesunlight lightstruck the flowers’bulbs

moreadvantageously.

“Kadiasker,ifyouwill.”

Mahmetlaughed.

Thistermkadiaskermeantthefirst legaladvisoronlegalmatters,apositionwelloutsidetheranksofa

Sultan’sinnercircle.DemotedfromSultan,Mahmoudwasquicklybeingshuntedfartothesidebythenew

wife.SheandCem’shandlerswouldensurethatMahmet’sstatuswouldonlyfallthroughthecomingyears,

untilhewasaplasterfigurine,oneofthefatmadcreatureswhoprowledtheharemhallways.

“Idon’tseewhatissofunny,”saidtheSultan.

“Deminimisnoncuratpraetor,”saidMahmet,asthoughitwereagreatcompliment.TheSultan,whodid

notknowLatin,raisedhiseyebrows.

“Yournewbrotherwillneedgoodcounsel,”hecontinued.“SoyourtimeamongtheFrankshasbeenwell

spent.Hisascensionistwentyyearsinthefuture,ofcourse:thatwillgiveyoutimetoshapeyourownlife,

andsoon.PraiseAllah.”

Inthehorriblesilencethatwasinevitable,Mahmetimaginedhecouldheartheswishofpeacockfeathers

in the courtyards just outside, andwatermoving through pipes somewhere, and a slight wind, from the

southandwest.

“Heishappierwhodoesnotwearthemantleofpower,”theSultansaidawkwardly.

HegaveasurreptitiousSultanicsignal,andanaideenteredtocallAbdulhamidawayonaffairsofstate.

“TheemirsofMombassaawait,I’mafraid…”saidtheSultanashetookhisleave.“TellyourmotherIhope

toseeherjustassoonasmyscheduleal—”

“Father,”saidMahmoud.

Abdulhamidstoppedinmid-stride.

“Yes?”

TheSultan’smostcapablesonstoodstraight,hisshoulderssquared,andspokeinatoneofvoicehisfather

hadneverheardbefore.

“Youmustdoasyouseefit.Forthekingdom.”Thesonstraightenedthecollarofhisfavoritejacket,and

heldhimselfupright.“Iwishyouonlywell.”

“Yes.Well…thankyou,Mahmoud. I amsure…Iamsure that Idoact, orhope that Iact, inall ourbest

interests.I…Idon’t…Oh,whatacuriousspeechyoumake,Icannotimaginewhatitallmeans.”

But theybothknew thatMahmoud, in the family tradition,had saidone thingandconveyed something

altogetherdifferent;inthiscase,somethingentirelylarger.

Hemeantgoodbye.

TheCaliphofAllCaliphs leftthesumptuousofficechambers,nowemptybutforasumptuousdisplayof

furnitureandvariousmementosandthejournalsofIb’nSaidandayoungmanwhosuddenlyhadnoplacein

theworld.

19

ALETTERARRIVES(PartII)

Dailytherocksaccumulateposition.—RobertCreeley

Theowlcalledthewatchesinthegardensofthepalace.

VermillionnightreignedoverTopkapiPalaceandallofSeraglioPoint.Cricketschirped.Unseennocturnals

foragedforseedinthedew-decoratedlawns.TheGateofSalutationwasstillandquiet.Coolpocketsoffog

settledingulleysandstreambedsandaroundfoot-bridges.Fromthetopfloorofthefamilywing,youcould

seesilentswathsofgreenamongred-tiledroofsbelow,andtheterracedsleepinggardensofjasmine,lilies,

roses,andtulips.

The highest-ranking of the Janissary Guard, Darmoush, knocked at the entryway to PrinceMahmoud’s

chambers.Receivingnoresponsebutalightbreezecominginfromthesea,heentered.

Hecarriedaleathercourier’spouch.

Ithadarrivedthatafternoon,onashipfromRussia.

ThepouchhadcomeontheshipMedina,returningfromLeningrad.Itwasaddressedinafemininehand

for prompt delivery to “Royal Prince Mahmoud of Topkapi Palace,” a marking equivalent to “Valuables

Within”or“StealMe”inmostcases.Luckily,whenthepouchhadarrivedatthegarrisonfromthedockslate

thisverynight,Darmoushhadseenit,andsignedforit,andnowtookitstraighttothePrince.

Allwasquietwithin.

Curtainswavedinthenightwinds.Softlightfellacrossajumbleofcushionsandsmalldivansandthree-

legged stools lay strewn across thick, patterned rugs.Here and there lay ceramic dishes and half-empty

goblets,remnantsoffeastspast.Someonehasbeenbusygorging,remarkedDarmoushtohimself.

Mahmethadnot left his chambers in over aweek.Nonehadheardhim speak for twice that long.The

guardsmansawthecontoursoftheplumpPrinceMahmet,reclininginasofaseat,bythewindow,onthefar

sideofasortoffortressmadeofpillows,apaddedwallwhichformedaperimetersurroundingthewindow

seat,asthoughtokeeptheworldatbay.TheprofileofthePrinceheldafaintcoronaofmoonlight,andwas

limnedbystarryblue.

“Apouchforyou,myPrince.”

Darmoushlettheleathermailpouchslaponthemarblefloor.

“FromthelandoftheTsars.”

Themanmeantitasanannouncement:hehopedwhateverwasinthepouchwouldwakeMahmetfromhis

torpor.NonewantedtoseethissonoftheSultanslideintothesameswampofindolencethathadclaimed

hisbrothers.

Mahmetwaiteduntilheheardtheguardsmandepartbeforeherousedfromhispillowedfortress.

Heopenedthepouch.

Heopenedthemasterletter.Therewerethreeothers.

Hewentintohiscloset,toretrievethescytale.

HecopiedtheoriginalletterinCyrillic,anditsuncodedtranslationintohisownalphabet.Then,takingher

scriptasabase,heusedthescytale’s totranspose its letters,andsoonanentirelynewmessage,theone

encryptedbeneaththeinnocuousmessageoftheplaintextemerged.

Onlysevensentences,butenoughtochangealife.

Severallives.

Theotherthree lettershedidnotopen—hedidnotneedto, forshehadtoldhimwhatwas inthem.He

read the decodedmessage over and over, until he had committed it to memory: then he let it, and her

originalmissive,dropinthefireplace,andwatcheduntilflameconvertedeveryinchofthetwoparchments

intoblackenedsoot.

PrinceMahmoudtookaction.Herummagedthroughhisclosetsforcertainitems(ausefulknife,hisbest

jacket)andfromtwomoneybeltshecarefullyfashionedanoilskinwrap, inwhichhehidthethreeletters

which Clotilde had put in his possession and tied them snugly to his chest. A few more belongings he

crammedintoapackwhichfitonhisback,ashehadseenthesailorsatKace’sshipyarddo.

Theowlcalledthewatchesinthegardensofthepalace.

MahmetvisitedhisbrotherAmir’squarters.IttookhimawhiletofindandfreetheAdmiraltysealfromits

lockeddrawer.

Heknewwheretheguardsplayedcardsatnight,andavoidedthegarrisons.Nonebutafewhorsessaw

thePrinceasheslippedoutofthecourtyardsandbeneaththeGateofSalutationanddowntotheshoreline

ofSeraglioPoint.

20

CAESAR’SCODE

Maybewe’reatourbest,wehumans,whenweputourselvesintouncomfortablesituations.

—JenniferWilson

“Heisgone!”

BayazidburstintotheorderlychambersofthePortMistress.Itwasearlyinthemorning.

Cynthianawhirledattheintrusion.

TheSultan’ssecondwifewasbarelydressedinsilkennightrobes,herhairstilltousledfromslumber.She

carrieddocumentsinherhands,whichshewavedbeforehermostpitiably.Julidetrailedbehind,andlittle

Papaya, frightened, clung to her older sister’s skirts, and behind them a small clutch of servants and

attendants,halfofthemalsocladintheirnightrobes.Thetwobrothers,AmirandKemal,closedthedoors.

“Gone,Cynthiana!Gone!Whatshallwedo?”

Cynthiana snatched a sword from the hands of Kemal, who appeared to be drunk, and was waving it

recklessly.

“Hehadleftthisnote.Threedaysago.”

SheshowedCynthiana,whorecognizedMahmoud’sdistinctivehandwriting.

“Itsayshe isgoingto joinhisbrothersontheirhuntingtrip, inYesrit.Buttheyhave justreturned,and

Mahmoudwasneverwiththem.Hischambersareempty.”

“Whenisthelasttimeanyonesawhim?”askedCynthianasharply.“SawMahmoud,orspoketohim?”

Noonespoke.Eyesglazed,tryingtorecall—

“IplayedcardswithhimSundaynight,”saidJulide.“Hewasverymean,soIquit.”

“Didanyoneseehimsincethen?Anyone?No?That’sfourdaysago.Damnyou,Kemal—”hissedCynthiana,

seeing that the wobbly-legged older Prince had now replaced the sword with a curved Russian dagger.

CynthianasignaledfortwoofhermentodisarmKemalandcarryhimoff.

“Didtherebelstakehim?”askedBayazid.

“Shouldn’twetellFather?”askedJulide.

“Whatsenseisthereinthis?”askedBayazidplaintively.

“OneoftheGuardstoldmehesignedforacourier’spouch,earlierintheweek,”saidAmir.“Hesaidhe

deliveredittoMahmoud.IthadRussianwriting.”

“Itmustbefromhisschool-mate,Catherine’sniece—”saidCynthiana.

“Ifoundthisonhisdesk.”Papatyaofferedupablankpieceofpaper.

Julide andCynthiana looked at it: it was parchmentwith nowriting, probably the top piece of a stack

whichthesimple-mindedgirlhadfoundonherbrother’sdesk.Julidestartedtotakeitaway,buttheHarbor

Mistressstoppedher.Shehelditcarefully,andtitleditinthemorninglight.

“ItseemstohavecapturedtheimpressionofMahmoud’shandwriting.AtleastIthinkso…”

JulideandCynthianatooktheparchmentandcarriedittothewindow,lettinglightfallonitfromdifferent

angles.

“It’swrittenincode.Hecopiedithere.Goodgirl,”noddedCynthianatoPapatya.“Hemusthaveburntthe

original…”Shelookedlongatthepaper.“Doeshehaveascytale?”sheaskedJulide.“It lookslikeametal

cylinder,withastrap—”butJulidewasalreadygoneandsoonreturned,holdingthescytale.

Ittooksometime,buteventuallyshewasabletospelloutthetextofClotilde’sletter,whichMahmethad

copiedontoaparchmentintopoftheoneJulidehadfound.

“It isaCaesar’scode,”saidCynthianawhenshehad it transcribed.“AversionwhichMahmoudandhis

school-mates no doubt have adapted for their own use. Not unlike that which Julius Caesar used to

communicatewithhis generals.Apparently, oneof themhas readVignere. I had toguess at someof the

words,butthisseemsmoreorlessplausible—”Shereaditaloud:

MyDearestNitidus—

MasterF.isdead.G.hasgonetojointheBostonians,andIfearforhislifeaswell.Thestepswehave

longplannedforhavecometofruition,theproofbeinginyourhands.

Inowinvokethevowwetookthatnightbythegrave.Iaskthatyoudeliverthefruitsofalloureffortsto

G.inAmerica,intohishands,personally.Onlythiswaycanwefulfillourpact,andsleepknowingthat

wehavedoneallwecanensuretheequalityofallmen.

IknowthatwhatIaskwillplaceyouindanger’spath.Itisintheserviceofabetterworld.

Youwalkinmydevotion—

Always,

Clotilde

“Chattything,isn’tshe?”askedCynthiana.“Ihaveheardsheismostfetching.Itislittlewonderourboy

succumbed.”

“Whois‘G’?”askedBayazidplaintively.

“ItmustbetheFrenchboy,Gilbert,”saidJulide.

“’Nitidus?’Whois‘Nitidus’?”drawledadrunkenKemal,whohadre-joinedthegroup.

“Whatdoesthatmean,‘theproofisinyourhands’?”askedAmir.“Whatproof?”

“Whatwasinhishands?”askedKemalashefelltothefloor.

“ButwhyisheinBoston?”askedBayazin.“Iamatsea—”

“Jewels?”guessedKemal,nowstandingagain.“WeretheyRussianjewels?Butwhatproofwouldjewelsbe

—say,whatsortofwizardryisatworkhere—”

Cynthiana leaned over and removed one of the thin pads of onion skin paper. The Port Mistress had

neglectedtoreadhergueststwoshortsentencesofthethirdparagraphofClotilde’sletter,whichwereas

follows:

Inthispouchfindthreelettersofsuchimportanceastochangehistory.

Youmustaddyourown,andthendeliveralltoGilbert,inAmerica.

Shescribbledamessageontheparchment,rolleditcarefully,insertingitintothetinyhollowcaseasshe

walkedupthewindingstaircasetotheroofloft,whereshewouldfastenittothelegofherbestcarrier.She

called the bird’s name. She asked, “Where is the smart one?” The pigeon heard something in the Port

Mistress’voice,anddidnotrespondtohercall,butinsteadcockedhishead.

Femininehandsreachedintothecage.Long,well-manicuredfingerswrappedaroundthebird’spalegrey

wings,withtheirdoubleblackbars,andaroundhisbeatingheart.Therockpigeonbracedhimselftofly:It

wouldbeadayandanightcrossingazurewatersbeforehewouldrestagain.

21

THEPROTECTOR

“Allone,”saidMowgli.“Digtheholedeep.”—RudyardKipling

“Boss,”calledtheshipyardforeman.

Kacehesitated,hishammerinmid-air.

Somethingintheman’svoicesuggestedthattheCossackshipwright’simmediateattentionwasrequired.

“ThePortMistresstoseeyou,”saidtheforeman.

Cynthianamadefrequentwalksthroughtheshipyards,soherpresenceintheAnsalmowasnotunusual.

“Kace.”

ThePortMistressdidnotbothertotendherhairinthebreeze,anditswirledwithherrobesasshestood

amongherclerksintheCossack’sbusy,noisyyard.Itwascleanerthanshehadlastseenit,sheremarked,

andmoreorderly.

“LaPerouse tells me you did an excellent job. For a Cossack. I want you to come to my offices this

afternoon,theremaybeanothercommissionforyou—”

They spoke of his work on the Astrolabe. Cynthiana took an active interest in the materials and

instrumentsofhisshipyardAtonepointintheirdiscussion,sheleanedacrosstheCossack,asiftoinspect

themetalwhichhewascraftinginhisfiery-redforge,andunderneathherbreath,shetoldhim,“Theboyis

gone.”

Kacelookedupsharply.

“OurboywantstobeaColonial.”

Constantinople’sHarborMistresscouldnothelpbutsmileasshesaidit,andKaceshookhisheadalittle

andsmiledtoo,forhehadcometoholdtheyoungmaninsomeaffection.

Kace and Cynthiana stood overlooking the southern harbors of the Bosporus, beneath the semaphore

tower,itsgiantflappingflagsandbrighthuesspellingoutsecretsignals,messagesburiedincode,hiddenin

particularcombinationsofcolors.Theywatchedshipsofallsizeandshapemoveacrossthewatersbelow,

glidingtowarddestinationsnearandfar.

“Hewouldgosouth,directlytoEceabat,”Cynthianaguessed.“Iwould.”

“Hehasthreedays’start,”gruntedtheCossack.“MaybewecancatchhimatJabalTariq,”hesaid,using

the Turkish name of the British colony Gibraltar, where the Pillars of Hercules stand guard over the

Mediterranean’s only outlet to the broad Atlantic. Cynthiana’s shipping agency (the Dutch firm, Mickler

Sykes)hadanofficeinGibraltar—twoactually,oneatCatelaBayandanotheratLeuchturm,rightthereat

Gibraltar’s southernmost point—and, in theory, they could intercept the would-be colonial. Assuming, of

course, that they could identify the ship on which he sailed. Once past the pillars, there would be no

stoppinghim.

AnuneasythoughtroseinthePortMistress.

HemightnotgotoEceabat…

WhatdidtheRussiangirlcallhimintheletter?‘Nitidus’?Didthatmeansomething?

HewouldknowthatwewouldfollowhimtoEceabat…

Nitidusdidnotwanttobefound.Hedidnotwanttobetrackeddown,collared,andreturnedtothepalace

inshame,likesomelostdog.

HewouldnotlethimselfgetcaughtatEceabat.

Ifhecouldnotbecaughtandbroughtback,atleasttheycouldsendhimaprotector.

SheglancedatKace.Henarrowedhiseyesandturnedtolookoutagain,thistimetothesouthandwest,

past where the waters met the horizon, towards unseen Gallipoli, and the labyrinth of the Dardenelles

beyond,andbeyondthat,Gibraltar,andbeyondthat,America.

22

THEASSASSIN

Asforyou—youareonlyadetail,likealltheothers;youweresetinplacebecauseyouwouldactasyoudid.—WilliamGolding,TheInheritors

“Speak,”laughedtheclient,whowasoddlyanimatedforvisitingsuchawretchedplaceasthis.

Theprisonerdidnotspeak.

Theclient’shenchmanstrucktheprisonermightilyacrosstheface,andallthechainsshookwiththeforce

oftheblow.Bloodspurtedfromanewwound,atacorneroftheprisoner’smouth.

“Thisissportforthem,”theclientsaid,indicatingthehalf-dozenhenchmenwhoserestlessbulkfilledthe

fetidjailcell(ifitcouldbecalledthat).“Ifonegetstired,Ihavefivemoretotakehisplace.”

Six chains were tied to the prisoner: one thick chain tied to an iron collar which dug into the flesh; a

second,thinner,directlyroundhisneck;andoneeachforthearmsandlegs.

“Now.What’syourname?”

“HisnameisTaquin,”saidDeniIbrahim.

“Notyou.”Theclientsnorted.“You.Whatisyourname?”

“Answer,”saidthehenchman.Heyankedanarmchainviciously,partlyrendingtheprisoner’sshoulder.

The criminal, a man of sinew and vulpine features, looked at the speaker with the cold eyes of a pure

predator.

“Taquin,”utteredtheprisoner.Therewasacurious,liquidqualitytohisvoice:itwasmoltenfury.

“That’sbetter,”saidtheclient.

DeniIbrahimglancednervouslyathisclient

DeniIbrahimwasafixer,amiddleman,amatchmaker,amanwhomadehislivingpairingwealthyclients

withtheserviceorobjectoftheirimmediateneed.Ordesire.Nomatterwhattheservice,orwhattheobject.

He looked likeaschoolmaster.Neatlygroomed,modestlydressed,withkindlyeyes,Deni Ibrahimspoke

likeateacher,inpropergrammar,alwaysabletomakeaflatteringphrasesoundconvincing,alwaysable,by

anartfulshiftoftheconversationoratimelyself-deprecatingcomment,toheadoffanyunpleasantconflict,

andshuntmatterstoamutuallybeneficialconclusion.

ButevenDeniIbrahim’spowersofdiscretionweretestedbythispresenterrand.

“Theysayyouarethedevilinhumanform,‘Taquin,’”theclienttoldtheprisoner.“Youdon’tlooksoevilto

me.”

“Thismanhascommittedthevilestcrimes,”saidDeniIbrahim.“Theysaythemost jadedofficersof the

King’sGuardweresickenedbythesavageryofhisattacks—”

TheclientheldupahandtosilenceDeniIbrahim.

“Areyouthedevil?”

This isabadclient,decidedDeni Ibrahim.Hewishedhehadnot taken thecommission.Theclienthad

requestedabloodthirstykiller.Notacommonkiller,butonewhocouldmove incivilizedcircles,onewho

wasresourceful.Andtheclientrequestedakillerwitha family towhomhewasdevoted.Thefinder’s fee

wasenormous.

“No,”mutteredtheprisoner.“Iamnotthedevil.”

“Areyoumeasured?Canyouwait?Canyouplan?Canyouplotacourse,orareyousimplyabutcher?”

“Heismostwell-educated,”assuredDeniIbrahim.

This timetheclientsimplyexpandedthe fingersofbothhands, justslightly, tosuggest that themiddle-

man’sopinionswerenotbeingsought.

BakVapurwasnojail.Itwasnotaholdingcell,orevenaprison.Itwasawaystationtohell.Twodozen

prisonerswerekeptbyunnamedagenciesinthehullofanabandonedshipinabackwaterofharborsouthof

Constantinople,halfamileoffthepointModa,ontheAsianside,southofHaydarpasa,beyondthelawsof

theHarborMistress.Mossandmoldfringedthegreenishwalls.Brownpuddlesdecoratedfloorswhereno

healthythingcouldlive.Ifithadoncebeenbuiltbyman,nothinghumanyetclungtoit.BakVapurmeant

simply“sunkenboat:”yet itssubtext, the lethalpallorwhichhungoverthenamelikemossonawithered

treebranch,wasdeathitself.DeniIbrahimhadseendebtor’sprisons,whichwerelikeveryshabbyhotels,

wheretowelsandmealsandprivilegescouldbeboughtfromapricelist:thiswasnothinglikethem.Hehad

seen a French penitentiary, a holding cell for beggars and thieves and men of moral slackness awaiting

judgment:thiswasnothinglikethat,forthemiserablebeingsboltedtothesewallshadalreadybeentried

andjudged.Noinstrumentsofpunishmentdecoratedthecells,fortherewerenoexpectationsofinformation

gained,orcorrection:theseprisonerswereexpectedtodie,eitherhereoratthecolonialprisoncampsfrom

whichnonereturned,itmatteredlittle.BakVapurwasaplaceutterlywithouthope.

The client seized the prisoner’s thinner chain—the one directly around his neck—and yanked it with a

brutaltwistofsurprisingforce,causingthemiserablemantoreelandgasp.

“Doyouloveyourfamily,‘Taquin’?”

Thechainwaspulledeventighter.

“Come,brother.Answerwell.Youmaynotlikeme,butImayyetservethee.Imayofferapathoutofthis

hell.”

Theprisonerblinked,unsurehowtotakethisquestion.Anyphenomenonwhichinterruptedhistransitto

theRiverStyxmustbewelcomed:butthisvisit,thisproposition—whateveritwas—camefestoonedwithvery

badsigns.

“Ilovemyfamily.”

“Truly?Howcanawolflikeyouloveanything,oranyone?”

“Theyarenormal,”saidTaquin.“Theyarenotlikeme.”

“Namethem.Nametheirages.”

Taquinragedatthis,cursingbitterly.

Theclient’shenchmandeliveredanotherblowbut,Ibrahimnoted,notablowtoavitalorgan.Notablow

meanttodamagetheprisoner.

TheclientturnedtoDeniIbrahim.

“Twosistersandabrother,”saidthemiddle-man.“InthevillageofKagithane.”Helistedtheirnames.“The

youngestisseven,asoflastmonth.”

The prisoner looked at his visitors with a queer expression. “What jest is this?” he growled, and he

unleashedafreshassault,albeitoneseverelylimitedbyhischains.Thehenchmenbeathimintosubmission

withaknottedrope

“Hewilldo,”saidtheclient.“Yes,Ibelievehewilldo…”

Deni Ibrahimtookakerchief fromhispocket.Carefully,heunwrappedfromthe layersofcloth…asmall

painting.ItwasportraitwhichhadbeenpaintedofPrinceMahmoudthatverysummer:heappearedhappy,

hisbrightteethshowinginanaturalsmile,his longcurls freshlygroomed,proudlywearinghis finestred

jacket.

Theprisonerlookedattheframedportrait,thenbackattheclient.

Threedayslater,atattoogatheredsunlight.

ThetattoowasofaChinesecompass,adesignofacircleinasquare,tintedinmagenta,withalinecutting

throughboth.

Thetattoodecoratedawrist,andthewristrestedonanavigator’sledgeronthesunnydeckofaship.

ThedeckwasthatofaGermanfrigate,Jungfrau,andthedeckshiveredslightlyastheshippassedbeneath

thePillarsofHercules.

TheJungfrau,lateoftheportofNaples,keeledslightlyinthenewwind.Herwallofsailscaughtoneofthe

Moroccanbreezes,oneofthosepowerfulwindsoriginatingdeepalongAfrica’swesterncoast,oneofthose

sultrywindsthataereatetheStraitsofGibraltar.Theship’shullknifedthroughthewatercleanly,pickingup

speedassheroundedthepromontoryandsweptnorthward.

Ahandcoveredthetattoooverwiththelongsleeveofatunic.

ThehandchartedtheJungfrau’scoursethroughtheNorthAtlanticonnavigationalcharts.

ShewasboundacrossthegreatAtlanticforNewfoundland,stoppingfirstinCharleston,thenBoston.

Cynthianahadbeencorrect.Mahmoudhadgonedirectlysouth,tothecrowded,villainousportofErdek,

and from theregainedpassageonamailboat toAlexandria.Hehad thenmoved toCairobycaravan, to

confound any pursuers, and left that port bound for Naples on a trawler. He had found the Jungfrau in

Naples,readytoleaveforAmerica,inneedofanavigator’smate.

Amiledueeastwardof theship’sdeckwhereMahmudsat in thesun,across thebluecoastalwaters,a

horsesnortedandpulledupinacloudofdust.

Horse and rider had come down from the point at a fast pace, rounding Windmill Hill on Gibraltar’s

easternshoreandracingpastthelighthouseaboveBleakBeach.

TheridercouldseetheJungfrau,andracedtocatchher.

ThehorsewasanAndalusian.HehadbalkedthereonthedirtroadontheGibraltarperimeterbecausehis

riderwantedhimtorunatfullspeeddownthesteepgrade.

Thehorseman,whowasunknowntothehorse,urgedthesteedtogofaster.ButAndalusiansareknownfor

their speed because they are nimble, not stupid. The horse refused to run down that steep a grade, and

wouldnotmoveatalluntil the riderallowed fora slowcanter, in traversepatterns,down theslope.The

horsepicked itswaysafely, ignoring therider’s loudoathsandurgentbegging.This riderwasnothing to

him.NorwillAndalusiansbebullied:eachtimeakneebruisedhisside,thehorsestoppedaltogether.

OffGibraltar’seasternshore,theJungfrau’ssailsbillowed,anditscrewpulledthemtight,tocatchevery

wispofthestrongAfricanwind.

Nonecouldcatchhernow.