The Flag of Freedom (27 page)

Caterina was inclined to be sceptical.

‘The Americans have no ships-of-war,' she told Louisa, who was showing signs of excitement. This was another piece of intelligence Caterina owed to her former lover, Admiral Dandolo. ‘And even if they have obtained one, it will hardly be enough to take on the whole of Tripoli.'

Caterina was of a phlegmatic disposition, at least so far as some things were concerned. She was not unhopeful, but she did not care to have her hopes raised for insufficient
reason. But as the days went by she had to admit to the possibility that something was up. There was a definite air of tension within the seraglio. The two wives betrayed a more than usual degree of malice towards their servants and junior relatives. The hostages they treated with a cold disdain, bordering on contempt, but then this was nothing new. Towards Caterina and Louisa, they maintained a kind of sly watchfulness, like a pair of cats – and just as impenetrable.

Caterina remembered what Miriam had told her about the American agent who had been authorised to conduct negoti ations on their behalf. She anticipated the woman's next visit with more interest than usual.

Miriam, when she did arrive, confirmed the rumours, but she was unexpectedly dismissive. Yes, there was an American ship in the bay, but if it was a ship-of-war it was a very small one; yes, it had brought an emissary to agree terms with the Pasha, but he was a very insignificant emissary and talks had broken down almost immediately. The Americans were not prepared to pay the price demanded – an outrageous sum, even by Miriam's inflated standards. And if they threatened to use force, as had been suggested by Miriam's connections in the castle, things would go very hard on the hostages.

This was not at all what Caterina had been hoping to hear.

‘Do you have any more good news for us?' she enquired coldly. ‘Just to keep our spirits up?'

Miriam regarded her with a curious expression. ‘I might,' she said.

There were times when Caterina longed to slap her.
She narrowed her eyes a little to let her know the danger she was in.

‘There is a story that is told by the Turks,' Miriam said, ‘of a hunter who goes into the forest with his dog. It is a very cold winter's day and there is a heavy frost on the ground. After they have been walking for some little while, the dog finds a bird on the ground with all its feathers frozen.' She smiled at Caterina's expression but continued regardless. ‘The bird is unable to fly and it is freezing to death. But there is a pig in the forest who has just emptied its bowels. So the hunter picks up the bird and places it in the warm heap of pig's dung. And after a little while the bird begins to move and flutter its wings.' Caterina appeared about to interrupt at this point and Miriam raised a hand to forestall her. ‘And at that moment, a fox jumps out of the forest and gobbles it up.'

Caterina regarded her stonily. ‘Doubtless,' she said, ‘you are about to explain the meaning of this moving story.'

‘It has three meanings. One, that the person who puts you in the shit is not necessarily your enemy. Two, that the person who pulls you out of the shit is not necessarily your friend. And three?' She shrugged. ‘It makes no difference either way.
Inshallah
– what will be, will be. It is a very Turkish story.'

‘I see. Well, thank you, Miriam, you are a little ray of sunshine today,' Caterina congratulated her. ‘And why are you telling me this?'

‘Because I am about to do you a service and I want you to know that I cannot say for certain if it will put you in a better place or a worse.'

‘Ah. I understand. So what is this service that you are going to do for me – and does it involve pig shit in any way, or any other kind of shit?'

‘You remember the interested party of whom I told you?' Miriam enquired.

Caterina agreed that she did, though Miriam had previously referred to him as ‘an admirer'. An ‘interested party' promised less, in her expectations, than an ‘admirer', but even so, it was good to know that
someone
was interested.

‘What of him?' she asked.

Miriam dropped her voice even lower so that Caterina was obliged to lean forward to catch what she had to say. This was a not uncommon feature of life in the harem, where much of the dialogue was conducted in whispers, and the only raised voices were those of the wives and the children, but it did not make it any easier to understand what intelligence Miriam had to impart. In Caterina's opinion, as a Venetian, the Tuscan dialect might almost have been designed to conceal one's true meaning. No wonder it had been the language of Machiavelli. But for once Miriam was explicit.

‘He wishes to know if you have considered the possibility of escape.'

Caterina tried to read the expression in Miriam's eyes but it was impossible. She could be a cat playing with a mouse. But it was equally impossible not to play along with her.

‘I might have,' she replied warily, ‘when I first came here.'

‘And what did you conclude?'

‘That it would require outside assistance.'

‘And if such assistance were to be offered?'

‘Then it would be churlish to refuse it.' But Caterina had had enough of this game. ‘Come to the point, Miriam,' she urged her.

‘Very well. This gentleman is prepared to pay a considerable amount of money to contrive your escape.'

Caterina struggled to conceal her surprise at this inform ation. And as she considered it, she spotted an equally puzzling anomaly. ‘If he is prepared to pay such a sum to contrive my escape,' she said, ‘why not to effect my release?'

Miriam sighed. ‘Perhaps because he does not consider your release to be a possibility.'

‘How so?'

‘Perhaps because he believes the Pasha will not part with you. Perhaps he has heard that the Pasha considers that you are beyond price.'

Caterina studied her carefully for a moment, but Miriam's expression was remote. She recalled the shadowy figure in the chamber above the pool. The confessor figure behind his grille. If she had been more of an innocent she would have blushed.

‘And how is this escape to be contrived?' she asked.

‘I will bring you further instruction,' said Miriam, ‘on my next visit.'

‘And this “interested party” – you are not prepared to reveal who it is?'

‘I have not been given that authority.'

Caterina's first thought was that it was Peter Lisle – Murad Reis, the Pasha's great Admiral. Admirals seemed
to be drawn to her that way. But now she was not so sure. It could, she supposed, be virtually anyone who had seen her at the Pasha's Divan. This was alarming. She did not wish to exchange her present quarters for the life of a concubine in a Bedouin tent, or even the home of a Turkish official.

On the other hand, she did not wish to remain in the harem of al-Saraya al-Hamra for the rest of her life. Or even what she was still pleased to call her youth. Once she was out of here, anything was possible. But she was not going to go alone.

‘And what of my friend Louisa?'

Miriam frowned. ‘What of her?'

‘You do not expect me to leave her here.'

‘I do not expect anything. I am only the messenger.'

Caterina shook her head. ‘Then you must tell your “interested party” I am not going anywhere without her,' she said.

Miriam did not look at all happy about this, but Caterina would not be moved.

‘I will let you know what he says when I return,' Miriam conceded ungraciously.

She was back the very next day. This was a surprise to Caterina, who often did not see her for weeks. ‘It is agreed,' she said. ‘You
and
your friend.'

‘So what must we do?'

‘As soon as it is dark, you must make your way to the room of the murdered Bey.'

Not for the first time Caterina suspected that she was the victim of some malicious game. Possibly devised by one of the wives, to humiliate her. Or worse.

‘The room of the murdered Bey …' she repeated.

‘You know where that is?'

‘I know where it is. But why there?'

‘Because it is the only room in the seraglio that has windows which open onto the sea.'

For the first time, Caterina felt a stirring of excitement, but she tried not to show it in her face.

‘That is indeed an advantage,' she said. ‘But it must be a hundred feet above the water.'

‘More like two hundred,' agreed Miriam complacently.

‘So one would need a rope.'

‘One would certainly need something. But I imagine that has been thought of.'

Again, Caterina longed to slap her. Instead she said, ‘And what if the room is locked?'

‘Where there is a lock,' said Miriam, ‘there is also a key.' She reached into her voluminous black robes and pressed the object into Caterina's palm.

Caterina quickly hid it within her own robes. She could feel her heart pounding. If this was a trick, she was already hooked. But there was at least one other consideration.

‘As soon as it is dark we are confined to our dormitory,' she pointed out. ‘And one of the servants is set to guard us until daybreak.'

‘The servant has been taken care of,' Miriam assured her.

Caterina stared hard at her. ‘All this could not be contrived without a great deal of money,' she remarked.

Miriam permitted herself a small smile. ‘You think I would be involved in it,' she said, ‘if it did not?'

‘Of course I do not trust her,' Caterina admitted to Louisa when she confided the plan to her in the privacy of the hammam later that afternoon.

‘Then why do you even consider it?'

‘Because of a story she told me about a hunter and his dog.'

Caterina told Louisa the story. It did not appear to alleviate Lousia's immediate concerns. ‘Is Miriam the hunter, or the bird, or the fox, or the heap of you-know-what?' she enquired with a frown.

‘I think she is the hunter,' said Caterina, ‘but it does not matter. The point is that she told me the story.'

‘I still do not understand.'

Caterina sighed. ‘I do not think she would tell me such a story if she meant to betray us,' she said.

‘So you will go?'

‘Only if you will come with me.'

‘And if I say no … ?'

‘Then I will remain here with you – in the harem.'

Louisa considered a little more. ‘Very well,' she said. ‘I will come with you.'

They retired to bed that night without taking off their clothes and lay awake, under the thin coverings, surreptitiously watch ing the servant in her chair by the door. Even by the light of the single candle set before her, they could see that she was clearly having problems staying awake. He head kept nodding down towards her ample bosom and eventually she began to make gentle snoring noises.

Caterina turned her head and caught the eye of Louisa, in the bed next to her. Without saying a word they rose
and crept towards the door. If any of the other hostages saw them they showed no sign of it, and the servant remained as if drugged, which no doubt she was.

Caterina eased the door open and they slid through the narrow gap into the corridor outside. A flight of stairs led up to the rooms where Lilla Kebierra and the Pasha's wives slept. Moonlight filtered through the high windows. Caterina won dered if Miriam or her unknown accomplices had taken the precaution of drugging others besides the servant on sentry duty. Certainly there was no sign of life. They paused a moment before the door to what had once been Lilla Kebierra's withdrawing room. They both knew the story. And knew that if they were found inside the room – the shrine to the murdered Bey – things would go very hard with them. But there were other, less rational reasons for them to be afraid of entering. Caterina said a silent prayer to the Virgin and opened the door.

The room was generously proportioned and luxuriously furnished. There were no lights burning, but moonlight poured through the large casement windows and they could see quite clearly. It might have been Caterina's imagination but the room smelled of death.

She shook off her apprehension and made her way over to one of the windows. It was a little stiff but eventually she pushed it open – and there, far below her, was the sea. The wonderful, glorious sea, stretching away into the distance with the moonlight painting a wide-open path to the horizon. It was the first glimpse of the outside world Caterina had been afforded for more than six months, and for a few moments she luxuriated in it. She felt the breeze on her face and filled her lungs with air, and smelled
the strong, pungent scent of salt water.

And almost on the horizon, directly in the path of the moon, she saw a ship.

It was a three-master with its sails furled. Caterina wondered if this was the ship Elizabetta had told her about, bringing the emissary from the American President. If that were the case, surely they would be wise to wait for the results of his negotiations? But then she remembered what Miriam had said. And it was all too believable that the Pasha wished to keep her here.