The Lake of Sorrows (18 page)

“But you have to. It
is
… what is right. You were always the one who would do what is right.”

“This time, I would do it for reasons that are utterly wrong.”

“What do you mean? How can you do right for wrong reasons?”

There were more tears than raindrops on his face now. “You have never been jealous, have you, poor Chryssie? A few days ago, I was a doctor who saved lives and a noble martyr who was happy that Froshenie was happy with her husband. Because her husband is my best and oldest friend. Now she is … ecstatic. With
him!
”

He stared at the house, his eyes blazing. “And now my head hurts, my heart hates having to go on beating, and I ache to kill a man. And to see Froshenie watch when the beast Pasha then kills
me.
Ever so slowly!”

Chryssie recoiled from his fury. Desperation kept her mouth moving, but no words came out.

Karayannis sagged, as if growing old before her eyes. “I will find Constantine first thing in the morning and see what we can do.”

Chryssie found her voice again, ruthless in her caring for her mistress. “Please, doctor, oh, please. If you … love her, you cannot leave her to
him
. Tomorrow night must not find Froshenie in Yannina. No matter what.”

T
he very next night, under the cloak of a drenching rainfall, Muhtar returned. He first knocked quietly, then forcefully, at the door of the Vassiliou house. Then he banged and finally hammered, throwing caution to the wind and shouting Froshenie’s name. But there was no answer. The house remained silent, dark and empty, mocking him in the rain that was getting heavier by the minute.

At last, he let out a wounded animal’s wail and groped blindly down the stairs and out of the gate, tearing back to the palace, as if he was running for his life.

At the palace gate, soaked and soiled by a dozen falls, he started roaring with all his strength, gasping to catch his breath in between. “Tahir! Tahir!
Tahir!
”

The guards leaped aside as he bolted through the gate and the captain of the palace guard dashed up from the other side. Panicked premonition was written all over his face. “By all that is holy, my Bey. Are we under attack? Have our enemies sneaked in? Has the Sultan already decided to —

“They are gone!” Muhtar caught the captain by his ears, his face a feral mask of grief and rage.

“Who? I will call the guards right away.” Tahir tried to respond as fast as he could, but his Bey seemed to hear noone.

“Leave your men alone, you fool. Froshenie! Froshenie has gone away. Her house is deserted. Find her. Find her, by all the Gods that torture us. Why are you still here?”

His tone of voice was that of a deadly wounded beast and the guard captain felt blood run from one of the ears clawed by his master. “H-how can I find out so fast? It is the middle of the night and there is a storm out, Master.”

“Are you deaf, old man, or are your wits sleeping? Find out where she has gone. Now! If I chased all over Yannina, my father would know soon enough, and he would relish the chance to denounce her openly as an adulteress. He would take her to the lake, and those self-righteous Yanniotes would think ‘traitoress’ and smile. But
you
do not have his spies crawling out of your arse. By tomorrow morning I want you to have brought her back!
Go!
”

Muhtar abruptly released the captain and stormed off into the palace, roaring and wailing and gasping all at the same time, like the thunderstorm descending on Yannina.

Tahir had never seen Muhtar Bey look more like his father than at this moment. The sight and the thought made his breakfast want to leave him again. He forced it to stay put and raised an imploring gaze to the sky. “Why me, Allah? Why does everybody’s problems have to be solved by me?”

Then, cursing his own eternal misfortune, he boxed one of his gaping guardsmen on the ear and snarled at him. “Get some horses, you simpletons. And cloaks. We have to go search for that foolish girl before the lad does something stupid or terrible, and I do not intend to catch my death doing it.”

“I
n Allah’s name, what is troubling you, master?”

Pashou cowered as a massive burst of lightning turned everything bluish-white for a moment, followed by an immense thunderclap that made the entire palace shudder.

Muhtar seemed to not even notice. He had not seemed to notice anything since his return from the city. He had paced up and down the floor, trailing water and mud behind him, growling to himself, until Pashou had finally worked up the courage to stand in front of him and repeat her question for the umpteenth time.

“Go away!” He was hissing through his teeth, like a cornered cat. Pashou’s lips and chin quivered, but pride made her stand her ground.

“Why? I only wish to comfort you, my love. Let me help you. Are you not cold? What is the matter?”

She tried to caress him but he swatted her hands away, his eyes like burning coals, teeth bared and glistening. “Nothing! Nothing whatsoever! I just wish to be left alone. Do you not understand?
Just leave me alone, woman!
”

Pashou fought back tears, outraged, proud - and hurt. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, but he had never treated her like this before.

Yet, against her better judgment, she chose to obey. Quietly, she left his chamber.

T
he banging on the tavern door was like the blows of a half-mad blacksmith’s hammer. Yannos, Constantine’s father-in-law, had been an tavern-keeper all his life. He who could tell from such banging if it was a drunk wanting to get more drunk, a disaffected customer wanting his gold back, or traveler caught in a storm and wanting shelter.

This evening there was indeed a storm ripping into Yannina and the tavern had closed early because of it - but the banging was not that of a shelter-seeking traveler. There was something impatient and imperious to it that made Yannos firmly decide not to open.

“We are closed. Go away.” Yannos turned back to his chores.

“Open up!”

Tahir’s booming voice cut through Yannos’ determination and the old man looked gravely at the door, shifting his feet, as he started towards it, then stopped, then started again.

“Open this confounded door - or we open it and then it will never close again!”

Yannos raced to the door.

A cloaked and soaked and seething captain Tahir brushed his way past the old man, ignoring his excuses.

The tavern-keeper jumped aside, as a half-dozen guardsmen shouldered their way in, cursing the rain.

Tahir eyes were mere slits in his rain-soaked face, but the anger in them was unmistakable. “Why are you still in your tavern, Yannos? It is past midnight.”

“I … was just about to go home.”

“And your son-in-law has gone home already, leaving you to do the cleaning-up, is that it?” Tahir leaned against a table, his gaze boring into the old man’s.

“Anything but lazy. On the contrary. He has gone to his cousins up the mountainside to help them repair the roof of their stable.”

“In the middle of a storm?”

“An unfortunate moment to go, I agree. But he left before it started, and there it is.” Yannos lied with the practiced ease of a man who has both listened to and told a thousand lies to please his customers.

The captain of the guard looked at Yannos silently for a few seconds. Then he flashed a tigerish smile. “Do come and sit here by my side so we can talk a bit, Yannos.”

“Honored to do so, captain.” Yannos hoped his nervousness could be mistaken for awe. “Just allow me first to fetch us some wine and cups. You and your men deserve some mulled wine for braving the storm to visit our humble tavern. ” The soldiers cheered and Yannos ran to the kitchen before Tahir could detain him.

The old man presently returned with a tray of cups balancing precariously on his right arm and a steaming pot in his left hand. He brought both to a safe landfall on the soldiers’ table and handed out hastily-poured cups of strong, steaming wine.

The soldiers drank greedily - their captain only sipped his cup. “All travelers pass by your tavern, Yannos, seeing as it lies astride the meeting of the main roads in and out of Yannina.”

“True, my captain. My son-in-law has chosen a fine spot for his inn. Amazing when one thinks of it, for he is not otherwise the brightest of — “

“And since everyone knows that your inn is at such a strategic place, everyone leaves messages and letters and whatnot for everyone else here when they pass through. So, all in all, you know just about everyone who lives in Yannina, or goes in and out of the city. Am I right?”

“Not everyone yet, captain. But we hope to, one day. We like to make everyone our patron and to give our patrons every reason we can think of to return often.” The tavern-keeper could tell his smile was faltering, like a reluctant flame on wet wood. He sat down heavily, poured himself a cup of the mulled and emptied it faster than even a soldier could. “I would be honored to handle any such missive you might — “

Tahir did not even bother to let him finish. “So you know Dimitros Vassiliou, too.”

Yannos’ heart skipped a beat. And another.

“Vassiliou? I think I do.” Yannos spoke thoughtfully, giving his best impression of a man trying dutifully to remember something very far from his mind.

“The magnate with the greatest fortune in Yannina - and with the most magnificent wife. Has age weakened your memory that much, old man?”

“Oh. That Vassiliou. Yes, I do know him, mighty captain. What about him?”

“This is not about him, but about his wife, Froshenie.” Tahir was rapidly losing his patience. “Has he sent her any message lately?”

“Oh no, captain. Well, not by way of this inn, at any rate. How could he? Such a fine lady never sets foot in my humble tavern. And besides, her husband is currently at home here in Yannina, as far as I know.”

“Not any more. He left a few days ago and now his wife is missing, too. She has run away. Nobody at their house.”

Yannos was squirming in his chair.

“You seem a bit nervous tonight, Yannos?”

“Me? Nervous? No, captain. Wherever did you get that idea? I am just a bit tired. And this thunderstorm. And my son-in-law somewhere out there in it. Hard to run a tavern on your very own. Very hard.”

Tahir stood up and drew himself up to his full height. He waved at the soldiers. “Go prepare our horses. I shall join you in a moment.” Grumbling, hastily gulping down the remains of their wine, the soldiers gathered their damp cloaks around them, and left.

Their captain turned to face the tavern-keeper. By planned coincidence, this made his cloak slip back and the taverns’ candles glittered in the well-worn handle of his sword.

“Yannos, listen to me. Listen very carefully. Muhtar, your Pasha’s son, fancies this Froshenie - and she fancies him. But now she is gone, and the headstrong fool of a lad is clawing at the palace walls like a caged lion. I was sent to find the lady, and I shall have to run around Yannina and the countryside all night in this storm. I shall be all wet and cold while trying very carefully
not
to find her. Wet and cold makes my old scars ache, and that makes me testy, Yannos, very testy. Worse than that, she is probably shepherded by her Vaya — a woman that is all guts and heart, but so ignorant of the world that the two of them will probably leave a trail like a pair of club-footed goats. Unmissable! So if you know anything about where they are, so that I can avoid going anywhere near wherever that is, better talk now and save us both some very unpleasant problems.”

Yannos coughed explosively as a sizable mouthful of wine went astray in his throat. “It sounds as if the lady has been … most improper, captain. And disrespectful of the Pasha, of course.” He shook his head morosely. “The times we live in these days. She is a married woman, but of course it is not my place to judge Alhi’s son. Or her, either.”

Tahir was fingering his sword. “I am not asking you to judge morals. I am asking you if you have heard anything about those ladies’ whereabouts.”

“But, captain — to think I would know her whereabouts. That is way too much to expect. She is a rich man’s lady and I a simple tavern-keeper. What sort of business might I have with her, other than a casual greeting from her Vaya when she buys wine here?”

“Fast mouth you have. And smooth. Like a true tavern-keeper, you talk too much, but actually you say nothing. Very well, the Pasha has decreed that there will be peace and harmony in his fair city today, so I will believe you for now.” He bowed down, his face very close to Yannos’. “But if they just
happen
to call on you, be sure to tell them I am looking for them and do
not
wish to find them. They should not hide anywhere in Yannina, storm or no. They should go very, very far away from this city. And if you ever let on that I said any of this, I shall come back and cut out your lying tongue. Goodnight, Yannos.”

The door slammed behind the captain. Yannos tried to pour himself another cup, but he was shaking so badly that even his experienced tavern-keeper’s hand was not up to the challenge.

“W
e are done, Yulebahar, you are in perfect health.” Karayannis leaned back and motioned for the servant girl to bring him the washbasin.

The small room in the harem wing of the palace was discreet. That was why Eminee had sent the doctor there when he arrived in response to her urgent summons. The room was discreet because it was old and seldom used and smelt like rotting seaweed. The night’s storm had raged North and left a soaked Yannina in its wake, under a dusk-like, reluctant dawn. Everything seemed damp and this room more than most. Karayannis had respectfully suggested that the bedridden Yulebahar, and the slave girl tending to her, be moved to another room; Eminee had told him to examine her first.

Now he knew why and that Eminee was a wise woman.

“Am I pregnant, doctor?”

“Be silent!” Karayannis spoke almost the moment she did, but too late. Scowling at her, he washed and wiped his hands furiously, then sat fidgeting on his wooden stool, waiting for the slave girl to take away the washbasin.