Pawn in Frankincense - Dorothy Dunnett [194]
‘I am naught but the lewd compilator of the labour of old astrologians. I guessed it,’ said the new Ambassador mildly. ‘What I don’t know is, how did Suleiman hear of it?’
There was a little silence. Then, ‘That is not known,’ d’Aramon said quietly.
‘I see,’ said the younger man, tranquilly. ‘But it is true, is it not, that Rustem Pasha is married to Roxelana’s daughter?’
‘That is so.’ He had it, damn him.
‘I have even heard,’ pursued his host softly, ‘that the Grand Vizier was Roxelana’s first … employer?’
‘It may be true,’ said M. d’Aramon.
‘I have a petition of my own to present to the Sultan on Tuesday,’ said Mr Crawford of Lymond and Sevigny, with no change of tone. ‘It will, I think, be granted and should not reflect in any way to the discredit of France. If by any chance it is refused … If it is refused, I shall have to use other means, and I shall resign as Ambassador. If this happens, I strongly advise that no other appointment is made until the situation with Roxelana is resolved. A chargé d’affaires should be sufficient.’
‘Chesnau will be here,’ said the Baron thoughtfully. ‘Since I shall be there to present you … may I know the form your petition will take?’
The arched blue gaze, unwavering, showed no desire to avoid his. ‘I wish an order to remove two persons from the Seraglio. One is a English girl who has just arrived there in error. The other is one of the Children of Tribute.’
None of his amazement revealed on his face, M. d’Aramon put, with diffidence, his last question. ‘I am sorry. But I am sure there will be no difficulty, provided you are willing to be … generous. They are … family friends?’
Lymond rose. ‘The girl’s mother is an old and dear friend of my family.’
‘And the child?’
Outside, a French voice, speaking bad Turkish, was raised in dispute: other, authoritative voices joined in and there was a trampling of feet. Lymond, moving swiftly, said, ‘He is a member of my own family … Forgive me a moment. When I return, perhaps we should go ashore.…’
For a moment the Baron de Luetz sat looking at his successor’s back as Crawford moved towards the scene of the trouble. The quarrelling stopped. Beside him the steward, moving soft-footed round the table, poured M. d’Aramon a last cup of wine and removed the now empty flask. But instead of going away he hesitated and M. d’Aramon, looking up, saw that the man, a Swiss, he thought, with a heavy frame and a pink, overfleshed face, was attempting to speak. ‘Well?’ he said.
Onophrion Zitwitz bowed, the flask clasped to his breast. ‘I overheard.… If you will forgive me, my lord. You should know. His Excellency will not speak of it, but the child in the Seraglio is his son.’
If Lymond found M. d’Aramon’s manner to him at all different when, returning, he disembarked and riding at the Baron’s side, their joint retainers behind him, climbed the steep hill to the French Ambassador’s house at the top, his own did not change from the formal.
From the big white house, with its herb and flower garden, its pebbled walks and its fountains, one could look through the vineyards of Pera and down to where the busy town of Galata descended the hill to the water. Across the creek, on the other side of the Golden Horn, lay Constantinople.
In the six days which must pass before their audience, both the retiring Ambassador and his successor spent some time among the papers in M. d’Aramon’s study, arranging the affairs of the French King and his humbler subjects in Turkey. As he learned to know him better, M. d’Aramon began to recognize the restlessness to which Crawford was sometimes subject; when after a morning of rapid and capable case-work he would walk up and down the low balcony, staring across at the Abode of Felicity, the famous skyline which had taken the place of the New Jerusalem, the holy city, come down from God out