The Lake of Sorrows (36 page)

Alhi raised his son by Yulebahar to be the most dutiful son a man ever had; or so he thought. He also tried to make Yulebahar the wife he had once had, although he knew he could never succeed in this. Even the Pasha’s oath of vengeance was not to be truly fulfilled. His sister, ever haunted by her nightmares and, it was said, by a ghost that even Alhi no longer saw, one day climbed to the top of the highest tower of the palace of Yannina and walked on into empty air. Alhi did, in time, take the unhappy town of Gardiki. But most of the people who had been wronged by his mother, and had, in turn, wronged her, had died long ago. Not to be denied, Alhi Pasha brutally executed hundreds of their descendants. He thought it a grand gesture, his enemies saw it for the petulant weakness it was, and felt emboldened by Gardiki’s suffering.

As the Lion of Hyperus felt his end drawing near, he finally chose to challenge the Sublime Porte openly. When the Sultan’s army descended upon Hyperus, the main armies never clashed, for by now even the Pasha’s own men no longer respected the Lion of Hyperus, and they deserted to the enemy in large numbers. Even his son, Muhtar, joined the Ottomans for a promise of being made a Pasha. Inspired by this, the older son Velis did the same, yet he was offered no
Pashalik
of his own. For both Alhi’s sons were well known in Constantinople, and while young Muhtar was seen as a true son of his father, his older brother was not.

In desperation, Alhi turned to his enemies for help, offering his immense wealth to the
armatoloi
militias that had once served the Ottomans and now served the cause of Greek freedom. Many of these militia men had, more than once, been simply
klepht
bandits, and would have taken the Pasha’s gold - if not a magnate of the
Filiki Eteria
had quietly paid them twice as much to refuse Alhi after all. The magnate, known as ‘the sad one’ although noone knew why any longer, all but made himself a pauper by his act. But it left the Pasha with few allies as the Sultan’s army invested Yannina.

His city, his palace taken, Alhi’s final stand was to be in the most unlikely place of all - a monastery, that of Saint Panteleimon, built with his blessing on a small island in the lake that was to be his Lake of Sorrows, too. When the Ottomans came for his head, he did not surrender it willingly, but fought for it to the end. He fell to a musket ball fired through a floor, by an unknown common soldier he could not even see. The Ottomans cut off his head and placed it in a bag of salt. This they gave to a courier to take to the Sultan, as proof that the Lion of Hyperus was now sleeping forever.

As the chosen courier strode away from the scarred, still burning, monastery towards the boat waiting to take him to the shore, he held the bag gingerly, as if he did not want it too close. Everyone knew he would be the most well-received courier to Constantinople in decades, and yet he did not seem too pleased with his mission.

The soldiers who had taken the monastery chuckled at each other as the courier went past. “Even now, he inspires fear, the old beast Pasha of Hyperus.”

One of them, though, did not laugh. He was standing by himself, leaning on his well-used musket, and a few tears were running down his cheeks, still grimy with the sweat and powder burns of battle.

A young officer beside him frowned, puzzled at such emotion in a hardened soldier, and looked closer at the harsh, tanned face.

“You are the scout called Alexis, are you not? Greek, and yet you have fought with us against the Sultan’s enemy. Like a tiger, my men tell me. Now you cry at the sight of his head being carried past you?”

The soldier called Alexis straightened up and met the officer’s gaze unashamedly, although he wiped away the tears. “Memories, captain. Just a veteran’s memories.”

“Well, if they make you cry, you should do what every good veteran does — drown them in good wine. You will be able to afford it now. I have spoken to the commander of our
orta
about you. About your courage and your services to the Sultan. He wants to reward you, and he will be generous, for the Sultan will sleep quite a bit more peacefully when he has seen the head of Alhi Pasha.”

The veteran leaned on his musket once again, his eyes following the boat that was gliding towards the shore, oars splashing forcefully, impatiently. For the men who rowed were men of Yannina, and they did not care to be too close to the courier’s bag, either.

“The only reward I wish for is to be allowed to settle here in Yannina. To join the monks of this monastery, help them rebuild what we had to destroy to catch the Beast, and then live out my days quietly as one of them.”

Shaking his head at the odd sentimentality of veterans, the officer laughed. “That will be easy to grant, and the monks will probably welcome you. I am sure few men want to live in this godforsaken island. Do you not know that the Pasha used to drown his enemies here? It is said that the ghosts of all those people the he took to the lake haunts the place.”

The veteran was gazing out across the lake, his countenance suddenly soft and full of longing, like that of a very young man. “I hope so. I very much hope so.”