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Full text of "Suleiman The Magnificent Sultan Of The East"

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SOLEJiWAN'S ADVANCES (1521-1566): TO THE WEST OF EGYPT

IN AFRICA; MORTH OF THE DANUBE IN EUROPE EXCEPT FOR

WALLACHU-.EASTOFERZERUM IWASfA.

92 S9489L 51-13587

Lamb

Suleiman, the magnificent

Suleiman

THE MAGNIFICENT

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by ' Harold Lamb

BIOGRAPHICAL NARRATIVES

Suleiman the Magnificent

Genghis Khan

Tamerlane

Nur Mahal

Omar Khayyam: A Life

Alexander of Macedon: The Journey to World's End

NOVEL

A Garden to the Eastward

HISTORICAL NARRATIVES

The March of the Barbarians: The Mongol Dominion to the

Death of Kubilai Khan

The Crusades: Iron Men and Saints

The Crusades: The Flame of Islam

The March of Muscovy: Ivan the Terrible and the Growth of the

Russian Empire

The City and the Tsar: Peter the Great and the Move to the

West (1648-1762)

FOR OLDER CHILDREN

Durandal

White Falcon

Kirdy: The Road Out of the World

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SULEIMAN AT THIRTY YEARS OF AGE

Sketched by Diirer from contemporary description

Sulei

eiman

THE MAGNIFICENT

Sultan 01 the East

HAROLD LAMB

Garden City, N.Y.

DOUBLEDAY & COMPANY, INC.

1951

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.

FIRST EDITION

MAJOR GENERAL EARL S. HOAG

U. S. Air Force

a friend of the Turks and my friend

Contents

I THE SUMMONS 1

The Messengers 1

Voices of the City 9

Seclusion of the Family 18

Sheepskins in the Treasury 27

The Rose Garden between Two Worlds 33

The White City 40

II LANDS OF WAR 45

The Bastard of the Magnifica Comunita 45

School of the Tribute ChUdren 48

Rhodes . 56

The Surrender 63

The Cost of the Capture of Rhodes 67

Mainstays of the Organization 75

Appearance of the Laughing One 79

The First Show at the Hippodrome 82

Janizaris Overturn Their Kettles 88

The Warning of Mohacs 92

Opening of die Corridor 99

Appeal of the Queen Mother of France 105

Europe s Kaleidoscope Changes 109

vii

CONTENTS

Laws and Human Needs

Challenge of the First Embassies 119

Road to Vienna

The Kartnertor

Retreat

Evidence of the Hippodrome 136

End of the Three Gentle Souls 140

The Utopia of 1531 144

March of the Phantom Army 150

Truce on the Danube I 56

III THE SEA 161

The Impelling Forces 161

Khair ad-Din Barbarossa 164

Charles Sails to Africa 170

Barbarossa Sells Himself 176

The Instructions of Monsieur de la Foret 181

Foray into Italy 183

The Lost Army and the Holy League 187

The Duel offPrevesa 193

The Wind of Charles' 198

IV THE QUEST IN ASIA 207

The Secret in the Poem 207

What Ogier Busbecq Saw 209

The Enemy in- Asia 211

Journey into the Past 213

The Case of Iskander Chelebi 217

The Power and the Glory 220

On the Steppes of Asia 222

Barbarossa's Last Jest 227

Dragut 232

viii

CONTENTS

A Peace Is Won 238

The First Conspiracy of the Harem 241

The Three Mutes of the Bowstring 247

The Refuge on the Hill 253

The Danger of Peace and Wealth 257

The Approach of Ivan the Terrible 262

The Lost Admiral 265

The Ride to the Last Judgment 271

V MALTA, AND THE LAST MARCH OUT 277

The Impossible Task 277

Death of Bayazid 281

Refuge on the Black Mountain 288

The Dead Men of St. Elmo 292

Change of the Leaders 301

The Anniversary at Sziget 305

VI EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE 311

The Lawgiver 311

The Accusers 315

When the Women Ruled 318

The Impelling Forces 325

The Destructive Forces 326

The Legend of the Warrior 329

The Legend of the Pirates, and Lepanto 332

The Barbary Coast 337

Suleiman and Ivan the Terrible 340

The Turks Hold to the Black Sea 342

"The Russians Stand Firm without Their Heads" 345

ACKNOWLEDGMENT 350

INDEX 357

Suleiman

THE MAGNIFICENT

Tne Summons

The Messengers

WHEN the two foreign physicians consulted together and

agreed that life had left the cancer-eaten body of Yavuz

Sultan Selim, they told the Vizir they were certain.

They helped the Vizir carry the brazier of glowing charcoal

farther away from the body stretched on the mattress under its

brocade coverlet. Then they stretched out themselves to sleep

on the rug. For nine days, they knew, they could not leave the

sleeping compartment of the great tent. The death of the Sultan

must not be revealed outside the tent for that many days. So

the Vizir had decided.

Piri Pasha, the Vizir, was an old man, and he had not expected

to live that long himself. Selim had been ailing for years; an

indomitable will had driven his pain-racked body upon cease

less campaigns for the eight years of his rule. A gnawing anger

had made him merciless to those nearest him. Piri Pasha had

been nearest of all the minister who had shouldered the duties

of an empire. The Bearer of the Burden, Selim had called him.

With the care of an alchemist leaving his crucibles and fires

for a time Piri Pasha surveyed the sleeping quarters of his

master, trying to think what might appear amiss to other eyes

looking in through a slit in the cloth walls. Putting out all the

flames but one in the oil lamps, he gathered up a pen case and

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

some scrolls of paper. These he placed by the mattress, as if

Selim had been writing. It had been the Sultan s habit to do so

in the hours of a night when he could not sleep. Glancing at a

paper to make certain it was in Selim's hand, Piri Pasha read

two lines of verse.

Those who ride to the hunt, do they ask

In truth who are the hunters and who may the hunted be?

Yavuz, the Grim, had also been a poet.

In the reception quarter, Piri Pasha told the watching serv

ants that the Sultan slept and he himself was going to rest. Out

side by the standard pole he warned the household guards to

allow no one to leave the tent after him. But he did not rest.

Casually, as if refreshing himself in the cold mountain air,

he moved toward the horse-lines where two men waited. They

had been waiting at their post for several days.

As he went on alone the pasha sensed the muted stirring of a

great encampment the creaking of water carts, the scurrying

of sheep driven toward the butchers. Through the night mist

drifted the smoke of damp fir wood. Around him the campfires

traced their orderly pattern into the hills. Nothing seemed to

be changed this night. But the old minister knew that he would

be followed, out of curiosity if not by treachery.

By the trough where the horse guards paced he found his

two men playing at fortune dice by a fire. For a long minute he

stood over them as if to watch, but actually to satisfy himself

that they were his messengers the youngish swordbearer and

the commander of a division who, however, had drawn a cap

tain's mantle over his insignia.

For that moment Piri Pasha felt the bitterness of countless

decisions, the weariness of anxiety lest he make a mistake and

cause more men to die. For a fleeting instant he longed to ride

away in the place of one of the messengers, to rest in his tulip

gardens by the water of the Bosphorus. But he could not do

that.

THE SUMMONS

Once it was known beyond doubt that Selim had died, there

would be a few days of uncertainty. Until the Sultan's successor

was girded with a sword at the tomb of Ayub, risings might

take place probably among the wild clans of Asia, almost cer

tainly among any enemies of Selim. Yet Selim had left few

enemies alive and he had only one son living.

That son was Suleiman, far down the Asian coast.

More than anything else, Piri Pasha distrusted the city, where

the imperial treasures were stored, where foreigners still dwelt

in palaces and a riot might be set going by a chance word or a

bribe. He, the Vizir of the Osmanli Empire, had been living

when first the Turks reined their horses into the city. After

sixty-seven years he still thought of it as alien, and he had made

his own home by the blue water out of sight of its walls

Aware that the two players were watching him quietly, the

Vizir stifled his anxiety and said, "The hour is late for such gam

ing as this." He accented a little the word saat, the hour. This

was the key word, to start them on their mission. The three had

already agreed on what must be done.

Obediently for the Vizir of the empire spoke with the au

thority of the Sultan himself the players pouched their wooden

dice and rose. "May God be with you, Piri Pasha," responded

the older officer courteously.

As they were going Piri Pasha stopped the younger and

handed him a slip of paper with an unsigned scrawl upon it.

"See that this count of the Kabarda horses is correct," he

ordered, as if giving the swordbearer a duty task in mild

reprimand. Almost certainly his words would be repeated

throughout the encampment.

Waiting only long enough to see that his messengers were

not followed before they could be in the saddle, Piri Pasha went

to his tent. By the time he reached it, he knew, the others

would be racing south through the hills, the divisional com

mander toward the great city, Constantinople, there to wait to

make head against any rising while the swordbearer carried his

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

written message at the speed of hard-ridden horses across the

Bosphorus into Asia, to search for Suleiman, the son of Selim.

Piri Pasha had hoped to carry out his pretense that the Sultan

was still living for a week. But at the end of five days he could

tell that his secret was known outside the imperial tent. It was

known, but not yet proved. Weighing the time he had gained

against the moods of tens of thousands of armed men, he de

cided to supply the proof himself. Going out abruptly to the

standard where the seven white horsetails hung, he announced

that Yavuz Sultan Selim had died in the night.

At once the nearest troops, the janizary brotherhood, felled

their tents by slashing the cords, and tore off their headgear in

mourning. Shouts of grief echoed through the camp streets.

Experienced as he was in the varying moods of the army, Piri

Pasha felt fleeting astonishment that these janizaris, who had

suffered from the cruelty of a man tortured himself by spasms

of agony, should grieve like children at his death.

The army was safe, Piri Pasha thought. And at once he de

cided to leave the encampment. Placing his seal on all money

chests and on Selim's personal treasure, he gave over the com

mandbut not his seal ring to another general, advising him

how to lead the funeral cortege south by slow stages. That night

Piri Pasha rode after his messengers, in disguise, toward the

city.

By the ninth day, he calculated, Suleiman should arrive at

the city. If something went wrong and the son of Selim did not

appear, why then the Bearer of the Burden would have to cope

with the situation in some way

As he galloped without torches to light his road, suddenly he

was aware that he missed Selim, whose hard purpose had never

faltered before danger or difficulty.

On tie fifth day Suleiman rode north along the coast road

toward Europe.

THE SUMMONS

He rode easily, resting his long, thin body at times by leaning

forward on the shortened stirrups. He loved horses and enjoyed

most the hours he spent at the upland breeding farms. The hand

on the rein was brown and muscular. He gave to the saddle with

almost womanly grace, his restless gray eyes, his thin lips and

narrow beaked nose sensitive to the touch of the warm wind on

his face.

Except for a slight mustache, he was shaven, and the loose

cloth wrapped around his lean head gave him the semblance of

a young and energetic monk or dervish. The son of Selim was

no more than twenty-five years old. As he rode he noticed the

stacked hay, the fertile red earth, bare for the spring's plowing.

The road twisted around inlets where he counted the masts of

fishing ketches moored against the red-roofed villages. This

southern coast had been assigned him to manage and he had

done his best with it, as he had with the district in the sun-

warmed Crimea, knowing all the time that he was being tested

and a record kept of his mistakes. But he liked best the great

city where he had had his schooling, in the barrack under the

plane trees.

For sixteen years Suleiman had served an apprenticeship at

caring for human beings and cattle, with experienced officers

to advise him and even a miniature court like his father's but

never having the advice or companionship of his grim father,

who had been absent in the wars.

In his girdle he carried the brief note from the Vizir, almost

a stranger to Suleiman, telling him only that the sword of the

House of Osman awaited him at the shrine outside the city

the summons that his own advisers had distrusted, warning him

that it might be a trap to bring him headlong to the city with

only a small escort. "Ears deceive, eyes reveal," they had

warned him.

But the exhausted messenger had sworn that he had the writ

ing from the hand of Piri Pasha. Then the Greek, Ibrahim,

argued that if the message were a lure to draw Suleiman north,

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

it would have said that Selim had died, or that Piri Pasha urged

Suleiman to come. Instead, it merely mentioned the family

sword. And Suleiman himself had noticed how the rider had

fallen asleep immediately on a carpet under the olive trees,

not even holding to the purse of gold coins that Suleiman had

given him. It looked as if the man had actually gone without

rest for several nights. Suleiman had decided that he would

obey the summons. Then ride, his companions urged, without

wasting more time. It did not seem strange to them to start off

that moment, without thought of Suleiman's family or their

own.

The dervish had angered him, catching at his rein to chant

that he was fortunate beyond other men, he who bore the name

of that earlier wise Solomon. ... Suleiman was the tenth of

the House of Osman . . . called to rule at the dawn of the

tenth century of Islam. "In every age one is appointed to grasp

the age by the horns" ... as if it had been a bull.

They had given him orders, hastily prepared, to sign. And

they had watched with new interest while he traced the curves

of his signature. As if it were in some manner different from the

evening before.

In their minds, he knew, he had already become the Sultan,

the ruling member of the House of Osman. He was alone. He

had no longer any brothers and Selim had left no uncles living.

If he lost his life at the hands of unknown conspirators at the

ferry to the city, the House of Osman would cease to be.

His ancestors for the last generations had been alone, because

of the strict law of their household. There had always been so

few of them, and so few of the Turks. They had been given such

odd nicknames, Ghazi and Kaisar-i-Rum Victor and Caesar

of a new Rome. So foreigners put it. Yet they had never had a

people or an actual empire of their own. Mehmed Fatih-

Mehined II, the Conqueror had, of course, wrested Constanti

nople from the Europeans, but that same versatile Sultan had

also laid down a rule. Henceforth, Mehmed had declared,

THE SUMMONS

a Christian would be the equal of a Moslem a Greek born, of

an Anatolian born.

Once spoken, the Conqueror's word had become law. After

him his son, Suleiman's grandfather, had laid down another

rule. The people, the Osmanlis, must be educated above the

other peoples of the Europe they had invaded. That had been

Bayazid's idea. And during the sixty long years of their reigns

these two ideas had been carried out. Could such ideas shape

and hold together a nation that did not exist except for them?

Two men and two ideas, and then the reckless Selim breaking

through the mold the older men had made, to conquer new

territories

Abruptly Suleiman realized that the road ahead of him was

blocked. A peasant's cart had jammed its wheel on a narrow

stone bridge across a stream. The load of wheat sheaves on the

cart had toppled into the road. The two outriders who preceded

Suleiman to clear the way had dismounted here to struggle

stupidly, trying to help the peasant clear the wheel.

Approaching the cart, Suleiman reined in. At once he heard

the beat of galloping hoofs behind him. Today his companions,

whatever their rank, had remained discreetly a javelin's cast

behind their prince. Now at sight of the tangle on the bridge,

they were rushing up to protect him.

Impatient at the delay and the needless shouting, Suleiman

twisted the reins in his hand. His splendid gray pacer turned

down into the gully, splashed through the stream and lunged

up the far bank to the road beyond the block. Then the anxious

outriders raced past, to take up their posts again. It crossed

Suleiman's mind that he might have galloped into an ambush

at the stream, but he had thought only how he might get past

the cart. And he did not relish being left alone. Over his shoul

der he called, "Come up, Ibrahim."

Often when he was troubled he called for Ibrahim, the First

Falconer, who had been born a Christian and a Greek at the

edge of the sea. Ibrahim was older than he, dark and slender

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

with long outthrust jaw and eyes quick to see the way past any

difficulty. UsuaUy Ibrahim played the guitar for him or read

aloud from books unfamiliar to other men. Suleiman had a

knack of solving practical difficulties without effort, but he liked

to hear the quick-witted Ibrahim dissect a problem. "Eh,

Ibrahim," he asked, "do you think the army believes that my

father poisoned Bayazid, his father?"

For once the Greek had no ready answer. Because the army

did believe exactly that. Had not Bayazid, the mild and far-

seeing, abdicated the sultanate to Selim, the ruthless? And had

not the aged Bayazid died soon after from an unidentified ill

ness while journeying away from the city to live in peace at his

birthplace? Certainly he must have died from poisoning. Yet

there was no proof. And the Greek did not know what answer

would satisfy Suleiman. It would not do to lie to him.

"The army believes it/' he agreed carefully, "because the

Yavuz Sultan was determined to hold all power, alone. While

Bayazid lived, wherever he might be, there were still two

sultans."

Suleiman gave no sign of assent. When he withdrew his mind

like this, the Greek could not guess his thoughts. At times

Suleiman had a way of taking questions before some inner

tribunal of his own. The practical side of the prince Ibrahim

understood very well, but not this mysticism. Anxiously he

probed at the mood of his young master.

"You cannot change what has happened. Before this morning.

The morning of your power lies ahead along this road." ( Sulei

man could be deceived easily enough, yet it was always danger

ous to do so, because he had a quick temper that he hid carefully

under his silence, and his whimsey. ) "Everything that has hap

pened has been fortunate for you, as that dervish said. Bayazid

himself said that you would rule. Perhaps the late Sultan Selim

feared that you would be named in his place" quickly Ibrahim

glanced at the sensitive, impassive face beside him. "Don't

look bade. Look ahead. You are fortunate." In his eagerness he

THE SUMMONS

dared raise his voice. "No brothers to race you in to the imperial

city no enemies to draw their reins across your path. All power

waits for the touch of your hand. Even the Vizir waits to bend

his head before the shadow of God on earth. With luck like

yours, there's nothing you can't do."

Suleiman smiled. "Except turn back upon this road/*

Voices of the City

He did not turn back. For three days he rode fast. Then he

left behind him the quiet moist earth and the smoke of char

coal burners in the shielding forest. The hoofs of his horse jarred

on the smooth stones of a road that had been made by Romans.

It led to a height that was Chamlija, the Place of the Cypresses,

where the dead waited and the living passed by. Beyond that

height shone the blue of the water of Marmora.

So he left the quiet of the open land, and came within sight

of the city he was to rule. Already things were different. Here

the folk did not bend over green barley or move gently with the

herded sheep; they thronged to the stone road to stare at him

and he knew that in some fashion the news that had come to

him had reached the city also. In the city rumors ran from

caravan lodging to street, they bred in the vapor of the baths

and passed with the rowing caiques up and down the water

front. As he rode between the throngs of people, voices mur

mured, "Now may good fortune be with the son of Selim!"

At the shore a ferry waited with a carpet laid over the tiller

seat. Across from him the great city waited, displaying no sign

of resistance. Like a lovely and disdainful woman it lay be

tween the waters, heedless of all that was commonplace, seeking

only the man who would enter as master. Suleiman had gov

erned it during the absence of Selim, and had grown familiar

with its moods, as he had come to know its landmarks from the

minaret towers of the Aya Sofia rising over the plane trees to

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the far burned column the Romans had left standing near the

gate of his pakce.

When he stepped from the ferry barge to the boat landing

in the garden, the gardeners hurried to greet him without com

mand. Down the slope raced young soldiers, leaping the flower

beds, the neck drops of their gray caps tossing. These janizaris,

the Young Troops, guardians of the city, rushed around him,

crowding against him, the knives in their girdles brushing his

arms. Having sighted him, they were clamoring, "The gift! The

payment make the payment!"

Excitable, and dangerous if they got out of hand, the janizaris

were calling for the customary reward, paid of late upon the

succession of a new sultan. Their active muscular bodies pressed

around the slight, tall prince. Through them pushed the veteran

Agha of the Janizaris, puffing after his run, grinning and holding

out a red apple in his scarred hand. Staring at ;Suleiman, the

agha struck him lightly over the shoulder the customary greet

ing to a new chief of the janizaris. "Can you eat the apple, son

ofSelim?"

This apple signified to them in some way the legendary an

tagonist of the janizary brotherhood, the Rome across the water

in Italy.

"In time," said Suleiman briefly, taking the apple.

"The gift! Make the gift!"

"In its time." Suleiman pushed on through them. The agha

gmnted and the others fell back silently. From the fountain

under the trees the divisional commander whose mission had

been to hold the city quiet drew a long breath of relief and dis

appointment. Suleiman had said too little. He had shown no

fear of the household guards, yet he had not forced their re

spect They had hardly found him to be the true son of Selim.

Suleiman ate alone that noon. From the small bowls placed

on the clean cloth in front of his knees he took tiny squares of

meat broiled in herbs, and portions of squash stuffed with rice,

THE SUMMONS

and figs in sour cream, pretending to enjoy them. He touched

the gold goblet, and a silent boy stepped forward to pour

sherbet into it.

Although he managed to appear coldly content with his food

and the service of the watchful pages of the inner palace, Sulei

man felt the dry fever of anxiety. The eating compartment was

ugly and narrow, and alien. And he had managed himself badly

before the tumultuous janizaris. He could never win their de

votion, as Selim had done. . . .

Ten years before. Selim, rebelling against Bayazid, defeated

in battle by the old Sultan, retreating into the seabound fast

ness of the Crimea, where Suleiman had been sent with his

mother Selim laughing at the order of his father to send the

youthful, studious Suleiman to govern Constantinople Selim

riding off with the wild Tatars, their drums throbbing, going

against the city and the Sultan his father. The matchless jani

zaris marching out under orders to drive back Selim and the

Tatars, and then at the first sight of Selim riding against them,

the janizaris rushing forward to cry Selim's name, and touch

his stirrup, swearing no other man should lead them ... by

tha? act the janizaris had disowned their Sultan and chosen a

new leader. Bayazid had had to yield the sword of Osman and

then to yield his life ... if he had not been given poison at

Selim's order, he had lost the will to live . . . the bitter mem

ory of that year lay between Selim and Selim's son, who had

been kept at a distance from the army and the companionship

of his father . . . Selim's last words to Suleiman had been

spoken, years ago, half contemptuously, half pleading: If a Turk

dismounts from the saddle to sit on a carpet, he becomes noth

ingnothing.

Sitting alone at his food, washing his hands in the silver basin

brought by another page, Suleiman could not help thinking

how they would have served another man in just that fashion.

Until Piri Pasha came, and the high officers swore obedience to

him, Suleiman: was nothing. And Piri Pasha, who should have

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

been waiting to greet him at the ferry, had not appeared.

After eating > the household pages expected him to sleep

awhile. They unrolled the mattress in his sleeping room,. But

Suleiman could not bring himself to lie down. Instead he paced

by the wall, fingering his old belongings carefully stored in

niches manuscripts copied in the clear hand of Kasim, his

tutor old examination papers he himself had written, on the

movements of the stars or decisions of the Law. A small clock

case he had made out of gold when he had had to learn a hand-

craft. Since he liked the feel of smooth gold and fancied the

precision of European watches, he had enjoyed making this

case.

The school lessons and the clock had no meaning now. They

belonged to a boy who did not exist

He felt a sharp stab of loneliness, for the touch of Flower of

Spring, and the sight of his own boy again, for cheerful Ibrahim

making music when they sailed in the moonlight after digging

shrimps along the shore. A man could not enjoy such things

alone.

"Sultan Suleiman Khan!"

Although the voice startled him, Suleiman turned casually to

the curtained entrance, as if mildly surprised at being disturbed

in his thoughts. Through the curtain strode Piri Pasha wrapped

in a funny mantle, looking old and tired. He caught Suleiman's

hand to his heart and kissed it His voice quivered with the

emotion of the aged as he explained how he had hurried to the

utmost of his poor strength, and how the sight of his young

master in health restored his failing spirit. His words had the

artificial cadence of the court, but he was sincere. Suleiman

could detect truth in a man, as he knew gold by the touch.

Moreover, the veteran Vizir began at once to issue orders in

Suleiman's name for a new clock in running order to be brought,

and black garments of mourning, and prayers to be said publicly

f or Selim that sunset. At this an orderly hum of movement filled

the palace that had been like a caravan serai awaiting guests.

THE SUMMONS

Under the new black robes Piri Pasha advised Suleiman when

they were alone for a moment to wear a tunic of cloth of gold.

"Never be without splendor/' he explained. "People may love

you for yourself but when they look at you they must see you

in some manner as a ruler of rulers."

Not satisfied with the glint of gold, he had two red heron's

plumes brought to fix upon Suleimans headcloth with a gleam

ing ruby clasp. "Why not?" he said gently. "A time of fear has

ended, a time of hope has begunGod willing."

"A time of hope?"

Piri Pasha hesitated, brushing his gnarled fingers through his

gray beard. "Yes. The reports of your district of Magnisiya

came under my eyes. You gave too much of your time to hunting

and sailing, as young people do. Yet it was also said that you

gave justice to any person who asked it, whether foreign or

peasant or Christian raya. Because of that, I hope. I am a fool

ish old man." His beard twitched in a smile. "The ancient

Solomon, upon whom be blessings, showed his wisdom in his

judgments. He asked only for an understanding heart, and he

lived to wear emeralds as well as rubies."

The gray eyes lighted, amused. "No, Piri Pasha, it is you who

have given me hope."

The old man bent his head, a courtier again. In the outer cor

ridors he took anxious note how everyone stared covertly at

the slender figure in black, the white impassive face under the

regal heron's plumes. And he let fall chance remarks about a

second Solomon and a time of hope that would come with him.

Outside the gates where janizaris stood motionless on guard,

Venetian spies listened to the gossip of servitors as they tried

to pick up clues to the nature of the Sultan-to-be. "A time of

hope has come," they heard.

From afar the spies watched the burial of the late Sultan,

after Suleiman and Piri Pasha had ridden out to meet the

funeral cortege, and had dismounted to walk beside the great

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

officers bearing the casket. A few men, walking up a rubble-

strewn hill where fires burned to keep away evil spirits. Taking

a shrouded body from the casket, and lowering it into a hole in

the ground. All this was done as old custom required.

Suleiman repeated the customary phrase, "Let the tomb be

built, and a mosque joined to it. Let a hospital for the sick and

a hostel for wayfarers be joined to the mosque." Then he added

a thought of his own. "And a school/'

A startled secretary taking silent note of his spoken words

asked, "Where?"

Suleiman glanced around the hill. Close to him the shell of a

Byzantine palace stood, tenanted only by some tribal families.

The granite stones and marble columns of the palace would

yield good building materials for the mosque tomb of Selim, and

the families could move elsewhere. "Here," he said.,

Then, as custom required, the cavalcade rode back outside

the city wall to the gnarled cypress trees around the tomb of a

soldier saint, Ayub. Here waited a white-bearded man robed

like a wanderer but holding a slender curved sword sheathed

in silver that gleamed with precious stones. He was the head of

the Mevlevi dervishes, the brotherhood that had aided the

Osmanlis from their earliest struggles. The sword was the sym

bolic weapon of the House of Osman, never to be put aside

when it had been accepted.

Taking Suleiman by the hand, the head of the dervishes led

him to a dais where he could be seen by the crowd as the old

man announced loudly that God had willed him to be the

Sultan, head of the House of Osman.

Girdling the sword over Suleiman's hip, the Mevlevi cried in

warning: "We who believe from of old give to thee the keys of

the Unseen. Be thou guided aright, for if not, all things will fail

thee"

Few of the listeners could understand the Mevlevi. They saw

only that Suleiman had accepted the sword that made him re

sponsible for the nation. How could a leader be guided, except

THE SUMMONS

by his own wisdom? What else had guided the Yavuz Sultan

who had conquered such vast lands with his sword? From that

moment Suleiman was bound to serve his nation.

Riding back into Constantinople behind the new Sultan, Piri

Pasha, the minister, felt that he had carried out the full of his

obligation to the Yavuz Sultan. Selim's successor had been ac

cepted by the army and greeted by the people. Even if he him

self could not retire to his garden on the Bosphorus, his mind

was at peace.

He let drop a hint to Suleiman, because he had noticed that

the new Sultan would listen carefully to advice. A first act, like

the first note of music, was important. Suleiman's first act might

be one of mercy, he hinted. Certain, Egyptian merchants had

been imprisoned for no cause except that they had angered

Selim

Suleiman ordered them released, without payment. It gave

him a warm, good feeling to speak the words. Then, observing

the sentinels on duty outside his gate, he remembered the gift

to the janizaris that he had promised, in time, and he decided

to give it quickly. Already observers noticed that he would

brood in silence for a long interval, but he had a way of acting

swiftly, as if to get a thing out of his mind. The janizaris of his

own guard were awarded the amount Selim had given, no more

and no less; yet all others shared with them alike, so the sum of

the payment was more than before.

From the faces of his household guards Suleiman could not

tell whether they were pleased or angered. They stood their

posts motionless, athletes swathed in blue cotton, only their

eyes moving under their gray dervish caps. They were his per

sonal guards, bound to follow him now where he went, without

thought of their own lives. Yet he could not forget how they

had turned from Bayazid.

After sunset, at the hour of lamp lighting, Suleiman heard

the late prayers said. Alone, he sat on an age-old carpet upon

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the half balcony above thousands of bowed heads. The tiny

flickering of lamps could not light the dimness of the vast

mosque built by his grandfather.

Opposite him a strange reader stood on the prayer stand,

holding a sword in one hand, a Koran in the other. When this

imam raised his voice sharply, a faint echo answered from the

dome overhead. The voice and the echo chimed: "The mercy of

God, all pitying, all compassionate, be upon the sultan of

sultans, the ruler of rulers, the shadow of God and dispenser

of crowns upon earth, Lord of the Two Worlds, Lord of the

White Sea and of the Black Sea ... Sultan Suleiman Khan,

son of Sultan Selim Khan."

So was his name read into the prayer. He was acknowledged

Sultan.

Before the last echo had died, an impulse of fear chilled his

motionless body. He was alone, raised above the others. By

title, he was head of the janizaris, among whom he had not a

single friend; he was head of the nation his ancestors had striven

to create out of their own minds, their passions and unceasing

courage. Yet what reality had the Turkish nation, except for

the fact that for a while hundreds of thousands of men of all

sorts scattered over a great portion of the earth would obey his

pronounced commands?

More, he was named head of a religion the shadow of an

unseen God about which he understood less than the majestic

man in the stand across from him. The last echo clung to the

air. Truly, he, Suleiman, was no more than the son of Selim

Khan. . . .

After a few days the Venetians in the palace of the Bailo

aciross the water of the Golden Horn studied the reports of their

spies and wrote down their descriptions of the new Sultan and

their predictions of what his reign, as they put it, might mean

to Europe.

Bartolomeo Contarini wrote: "He is no more than twenty-

five years old, tall but wiry his neck long, his face thin and

THE SUMMONS

very pale. He has only the shadow of a mustache and his

manner is noticeably pleasant. The talk is that he is a wise

Lord, given to much study, and men of all types hope for good

from his rule."

Such reports went to the anxious Signory at Venice by the

first fast galleys to clear from the Golden Horn.

By autumn of that year of our Lord, 1520, the reports sped

to Rome in the pouches of couriers. There the young Pope

Leo X he who had been Giovanni de ? Medici gave thanks that

the Turkish terror had been stayed, if not ended, because the

Sultan of the Osmanli Turks who had flashed across Asia like

a comet had entered Europe only to die there, without further

harm. Had he not been the champion of the idolatrous prophet

Mahomet?

Leo's favorite news commentator, Paolo Giovio, a physician

who had taken to digesting tidings from the outer world as a

hobby, made note accordingly that "Pope Leo, having made

certain of the death of Selim, gave command that prayers be

sung throughout Rome, and men should go barefoot to the

prayers/'

In Paris the young scion of the House of Valois, Francis I,

heard the news carelessly as he heard everything. Paris was far

from Constantinople, and already the gifted Francis was being

called the first gentleman of Europe.

By chance they were all young, these princes of a continent

seething with the ferment of renaissance, seizing upon new

ideas and exploring for new worlds beyond the oceans. At Aix,

the family shrine, Charles Hapsburg had just been crowned as

Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire having de

feated Francis' attempt to elect himself to that high office. Old

Jakob Fugger, of Fuggerau in the Tyrol, had lent Charles

enough florins on security of a mortgage on the silver mines at

Guadalcanal in the New World to buy his election. Then, too,

Charles had gained the approval if not the liking of truculent

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Henry of England, who had taken as his first wife Charles's

aunt, Catherine of Aragon.

In those particular months Charles V was being bothered by

a stubborn monk, Martin Luther, who had written a challenge

ing tract entitled On the Liberty of a Christian Man. The new

printing presses circulated this pamphlet through the German

cities in spite of the fact that it challenged the authority of Leo

as the head of the ancient Church, and of Charles as head of

the remnant of the Roman Empire. No, all in all, Charles could

have given little thought to the appearance of a new Turkish

sultan.

When Paolo Giovio had compared the different letters from

Constantinople, he summed them up in a prediction. "All men

agree that a gentle lamb had succeeded a fierce lion ... for

Suleiman is young, without experience altogether given to

quiet repose."

His prediction proved to be much mistaken.

Seclusion of the Family

Some of the Europeans wrote home that Suleiman was also

devoted to his family. Upon that family they never set eyes. But

this time what they wrote was true.

Within a matter of days after he had made his ride to Con

stantinople, Suleiman's household servants had escorted Flower

of Spring and her infant son thither, carefully screened from

the watching eyes of the world. It was easily done, because the

Turks were accustomed to traveling light. Gulbehar Flower

of Spring and her son arrived with no more than a few gar

ments folded into saddle sacks and small trinket boxes. And at

the Serai, the House, the quarters prepared for them were no

larger than the niches and nooks of a caravan serai, where

travelers slept the night upon the road.

In that Serai, however, a corridor divided the women's apart-

THE SUMMONS

ments from the Sultan's outer chambers. When Suleiman

wished to enter the women's part of his household, custom re

quired him to send a message in advance before he walked down

the corridor past the women's guards to his sleeping room there.

No other man could enter this secluded part. Only slaves

lived behind the doors of the harem. He never failed to sense

the irony of it that the place he knew as home was a labyrinth

of slaves. They kept his house for him, such as it was.

A fire of scented wood crackled in the hooded hearth. Light

rippled pleasantly along the tiled walls. Trees and flower

borders painted on the tiles gave the room the aspect of a

garden nook. Once he had entered it, Suleiman threw off his

headcloth and flung himself down on the wall couch.

His head was shaved except for one long lock of hair; he

shaved his chin after the manner of the army. Without moving

he watched the hearth fire until Flower of Spring came in,

through the other curtain. And he checked the ceremonious

greeting that she tried to repeat, her slight forehead wrinkled.

She had been made to memorize it, he knew.

"I may be lord of your life," he assured her, "but I am not all

those other things/*

With Flower of Spring the name of Gulbehar had been

given her when she had been fetched from the Circassian

mountainshe did not feel alone. Her supple body moved

lightly, as if wind-blown. Their son had her fair hair.

His pride, always fastidious, was satisfied by her loveliness.

Yet he disliked bringing Gulbehar here, to be pent up with

scores of other women, all of whom had duties and privileges

of their own having been attached in one way or another to the

service of the Osmanlis.

Freed from the necessity of repeating her lesson, the slender

girl curled up on the carpet by him and showed him a present

she had made, a brocaded bag with drawstrings.

"Open it/' she urged, when he admired it.

To his surprise it contained rolls of paper on which he had

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

written verses. He had labored at the verses, in Persian which

he disliked. And he knew they were not good. It was typical of

Gulbehar that she kept the old poems carefully, and made an

absurd bag for them. She could not read them.

"Do you know what these are?" he asked suddenly. "What

they really are?"

"Truly." When she moved restlessly, the scent of dried jas

mine came from her clean body and hair. Jasmine, he thought,

not roses. "They are writings by your hand, splendidly made as

Truly she had never heard such names as Maulavi, the

mystic, or Ghazali either.

"As old Kasim could make," she ventured hopefully.

Suleiman touched her hair and pointed at the signature. "Yet

it says here, they are by one who seeks a friend. No more than

that"

Again the girl's forehead wrinkled over the kohl-darkened

brows. "Am I not a friend?"

"You are more." He smiled, not wishing to tell her she was

both more, and less,

It amused Suleiman that when he visited his infant son or

slept with Gulbehar, he himself had to conform to the silent

ritual of the household. Mute African slaves took post outside

the harem bedroom and other women were sent away beyond

hearing. When he left the Circassian girl, he was expected to

steal back at daybreak to his outer sleeping room. There the

boy pages would turn their backs quickly, if they happened to

be awake by the night lamp.

Later the wardrobe page would bring him a waistcloth and

huge bath towel, and Suleiman would go obediently to his

private bath, there to be shaven and scraped, steamed and

washed, rubbed and rinsed down, and finally allowed to dry

and cool himself at his leisure.

Otherwise, he never saw Flower of Spring. Even when she

THE SUMMONS

ventured out to prayer escorted by elder women in closed car

riages she remained veiled, and hidden behind the marble

tracery of the women's gallery. She could not share his

thoughts. The judges of the Law assured him that such women

could have no souls; like animals, they ceased to be when life

left their bodies.

With this the wise Kasim disagreed. Exceptional animals, said

Suleiman's tutor, lived on in paradise by reason of services they

rendered men beasts such as the ass of Baalam and the whale

that cast Jonah safe ashore. Could not some women achieve

the same merit as these animals, and so survive?

A discerning foreigner declared that women here were meant

only for service, like horses. "The women are commonly beauti

ful, straight and well-shaped; they are very fair, for they stir

but little abroad and when they do they are veiled. They add

Art to their natural beauty, for they paint their eyebrows and

eyelids with a blackish color; they also paint their nails with a

reddish brown color called al hanna. They are very cleanly and

neat, for seeing they go twice a week to the baths, they have no

hair upon their bodies . . . they are all generally very haughty,

and clad like the men, or in flowered stuffs ... in the streets

they let the sleeves of their smocks hang down over their hands,

thinking that if so much as a hand is seen they will be looked

on as women of no repute."

Suleiman seldom ventured beyond the guarded corridor. As

Sultan, his home lay in the tents of the camp; the Serai itself, ill

fashioned of secondhand stones and rubble, was intended to be

no more than a brief stopping place. So old custom ordained.

Within it, the girls and elders of the House of Osman had pro

tection; it formed a court of its own ruled to the smallest detail

of the nursery and kitchen by his mother, the Sultan Valideh.

This authority had belonged to the eldest woman in ancestral

times when the Turkish women had journeyed unveiled with

the clan, with men and herds to care for. Their strong tribal

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

stock had not been weakened by the infusion of girls from the

far frontiers Slavs, Georgians, Circassians, Tatars of late years.

The Sultan Valideh ruled the harem with the authority ^of an

ancient khatun, a tribal princess, selecting her own managers,

the Keeper of the House, the Keeper of the Storerooms, the

Keeper of the Jewels, and the others, allotting money and tasks

to every worker in the harem. For without work, the Sultan

Valideh believed, a woman's hands would be idle and empty.

The Valideh, Suleiman knew, had once been a Christian; like

Gulbehar, she had been bought young in the eastern mountains,

to be trained in the imperial household, there to please the

eye of its master. She had the lustrous dark hair and gray eyes

of the Georgians, lacking Gulbehar's fairness. He had wondered

how she endured the moods of the sardonic Selim. After his

boyhood he had not been allowed to see them together, nor

could she tell him much of Selim. As a girl she had known

poverty; now, impatient and kindly, she had a fondness for

colored satin vests, and mother-of-pearl with garnet glass

worked into flower patterns to set in her hair. When he praised

her splendor, the Valideh shook her head, thinking of more than

she would say: "Haggard and old, I am not splendid now."

Yet he noticed how newcomers to the household, little more

than shy children, took refuge in the kindness of his mother.

Of the feuds and the distress of the women he could observe

little; they served in their different ways, warring among them

selves but presenting gay faces to the master of the house.

Gulbehar asked for nothing except trifles, tortoise-shell combs

or some bit of Venetian satin, or silk from Baghdad; she felt

secure, being more than "in the eye" of the Sultan, aware that

she was loved by him, and that her son would follow Suleiman,

making her, if she lived, the next Sultan Valideh.

The good fortune of the new ruler seemed to extend to his

household of women.

Yet either because he disliked the old Serai or because old

custom required it, Suleiman spent most of his time and often

THE SUMMONS

slept at the Serai Burnu, the Palace Point. Here at the edge of

the city in courtyards surrounded by plane trees and gardens

the sultans carried on the task of administration. Here the Con

queror had tried to escape from the city streets, even erecting a

kiosk or sitting place in the gardens.

First Suleiman made certain that one companion would be

with him at all times. He named Ibrahim, the Greek who had

music in his spirit and wit to cope with any problem, to be

Captain of the Inner House. (Even now the Osmanlis gave

army rank to all officers serving them.) More than that, he

asked Ibrahim to share the evening meal with him, after the

routine of the day.

For once the volatile Greek looked serious when he knelt

across the supper cloth. He asked, "If you share water and

bread with a servant, does not that make him a friend?"

Suleiman looked at his companion and nodded. "Yes, it does."

In his dread of loneliness he wished for nothing more than

to have a friend. After supper they could talk undisturbed by

ceremony; Suleiman could read and question Ibrahim, who

answered readily even while fingering the muted strings of his

violin. Ibrahim, who seldom needed to study books, was fluent

in at least two languages Persian and Italian as well as his

native Greek and acquired Turkish that his master barely un

derstood. At will the brilliant Greek could tap the riches of

classical Persian poetry, or quote from Dante. He could go far

ahead of Suleiman's thought.

"What need to build palaces or cities" quoted Ibrahim, "for

they will be ruins anon? 9

"Then what endures?" demanded the Sultan quickly. He

had seen Roman ruins enough.

"Wisdom, and this music I am making!"

"And Angora goats!"

"Ay, truly."

Suleiman's amusement was touched by anger. At times he

could not be certain Ibrahim was not jesting. For the Greek

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

could be arrogant, in quickening his master's plodding mind.

And at times when Ibrahim made fun of things he seemed to

be leading his companion into new realization. Music like the

hymns of the Christians might be more permanent than Con

stantinople itself.

One book Suleiman brooded over, because he could not un

derstand it very well. The Sikander nameh, the story of Alex

ander, usually accompanied him in his journeying. He wanted

very much to learn how the great Alexander had meant to unite

the peoples of the east and the west. But Ibrahim much pre

ferred to discuss a certain Hannibal, who he said had known

how to defeat the armies of Rome. Suleiman did not care to

read about wars, especially when chronicled by Livy.

"It's important," his Captain of the Inner House urged.

"Why is it important?"

Because, the Greek thought, this Hannibal represented one

man and one purpose, opposed to an empire. Look at his army:

it was made up, like the Turkish asker, of motley elements

in his case of Africans, slingers, elephants. Yet because Hannibal

had been a single gifted man with one indomitable purpose, he

had worn down the strength of the Romans. "In the conflict of

wills, Hannibal prevailed."

"What did he win?"

They argued a point like this, the master interested in prac

tical consequences, the brilliant servant seeking to understand

the means that gained an end. Ibrahim had spent most of his

thirty-three years in schooling under the Turks, relying on his

own wit, challenged by minds as keen as his own, searching for

weakness in others by which he might profit. Until now he had

never had authority of his own, and he understood perfectly

that that authority rested entirely upon Suleiman's favor. "My

emperor/' he said humbly, "in conflict, a leader must subdue

others or be subdued himself. His life will be a conflict with

others. You cannot escape that."

At this Suleiman fell into one of his silences. He had a way of

THE SUMMONS

remembering every least word spoken, when he was pleased or

angered.

Men said of them at this time that the Sultan had a woman's

beauty and gentleness, while the favored Ibrahim had mas

culine strength and purpose. Those who were jealous of Ibra

him's new rank whispered that the younger Suleiman kept

him to share his bed at night. And it is true that Suleiman often

told the Greek to pass the night in his sleeping room, where

they could talk freely again after the morning prayer.

On certain nights the Captain of the Inner House was ob

served going out at a late hour. During such excursions he

could not easily be followed beyond the gate because he wore

a dark dolman and no insignia of rank on his head. Yet appar

ently he did not make his way to any one house. Instead he

was seen searching through the alleys leading down to the

boats moored along the Bosphorus. He turned into wine cellars

kept by his former countrymen, There he searched until he

found a certain man much the worse for wine. Then the two

would go off together.

When Suleiman heard the rumor, as he heard most rumors

in time, he had a messenger of the Serai follow Ibrahim with an

escort, to discover the meaning of his search.

The messenger made his report only when he was certain.

"The captain finds this man sometimes sleeping in the gutters,

sometimes still drinking. He tries to get the man on his feet,

to take him to a hostel or mosque courtyard to sleep. Once the

captain carried clean clothing for the other to put on, telling

him that he must not live longer in this way in the dirt. When

ever he gives money, either gold dinars or silver, the other will

buy more wine to drink. The man is his father, who was once

a Greek seaman."

Suleiman ordered that Ibrahim was not to be followed again.

Every morning the page of the wardrobe put thirty- two pieces

of gold into the Sultan's belt wallet for him to give away during

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the day. For when he ventured beyond the Serai gate, even in

parade with spahis going before and swordbearer and mes

senger and the others following, people would break forward to

reach at his stirrup and ask for alms, or for employment, or to

thrust up a petition in a cleft stick. Sometimes a gift was tied

to the stick. It was the Ayin, the old custom, that whoever ap

peared before the face of the ruler must be heard or rewarded

by him.

Sometimes he had to give judgments from the saddle, on un

expected questions, and he had come to regret that the Solo

mon of ancient times had been so wise in judging. A bathman

from Sivas, being hauled away by an inspector for drinking the

new dark brew, coffee, appealed to him loudly in the street.

Coffee, the bathman claimed, was not illegal. True, some peo

ple called it the black enemy of sleep and copulation, but no

law forbade it. Did any law laid down by the Prophet of God

forbid the drinking of coffee?

As always when appeal was made to him in public, a great

crowd gathered in silence to hear his response. For Suleiman's

word could imprison or free an offender; it could kill or give

life instantly.

It crossed Suleiman's mind that coffee had not been known

in the time of the Prophet, ten centuries before. Yet he had to

answer the bathman's appeal with a decision. "Do you think,

man of Sivas," he demanded, "that the Prophet of God would

sit on a street corner drinking coffee?"

The man considered and answered, "No."

"Free him," Suleiman told the inspector, and rode on.

Not only did he have to give judgment continually; he had

to take notice of any praiseworthy or offensive action within

his sight as he passed. The Ayin required that. Kasim never

tired of telling how the soldierlike Murad-the Sultan who had

formed the janizaris into an invincible fighting force had once

ordered a saddle put upon a passer-by. Murad had noticed a

peasant standing at a food stall munching bread and garlic

THE SUMMONS

while the man's horse waited with a heavy load on its pack-

saddle. Murad had stopped instantly, and had ordered the

peasant to put barley before his horse and then to remove the

packsaddle and shoulder it entire himself while he ate. So the

forthright Murad had impressed upon the peasant, and upon

all who watched, that a man must not take his ease until he

had cared for his horse. (And since Murad had established this

point so clearly, Suleiman had to take notice if any rider abused

his horse.)

It was a saying in the country: A command once given must

be carried out always. What was old was sanctioned, and what

was sanctioned must not be changed.

Sheepskins in the Treasury

The Ayin, the old Turkish custom, followed Suleiman wher

ever he went. Always he appeared before the eyes of his people

mounted in the saddle. Even when he went from the Old Serai

gate to the Great Gate of the garden point, where he attended

councils, he never walked, or rode in a chair or carriage.

Still, if he happened to meet a porter bent under a heavy

load, or a sick man being carried to the hospital, he was ex

pected to keep out of the way. He enjoyed riding past the

soaring mass of the Aya Sofia, turning under the plane trees into

the Great Gate. There his people swarmed, pressing in and

pushing out, like sheep at the fold entrance. (This portal would

be called by foreigners the Sublime Porte. )

Within this white gate, the hospital grounds lay on his right

hand but he always glanced instinctively to the left where

behind a giant plane tree stretched the barracks of the janizaris.

Some of these warriors of his personal army were always wait

ing by the brass drum at the door. But the young Sultan glanced

that way to discover if huge soup kettles lay there, overturned.

As the janizaris cut down their tents as a sign of mourning, they

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

threw out their soup kettles when they had a grievance for the

Sultan to notice. Until now they had not overturned their ket

tles. ...

Only he, the Sultan, could ride through the second gate

upon the clean lawns where the small council chamber with

its watchtower faced the kitchens.

Beyond the third gate no one ventured except the officers and

guards of the household who had the duty of caring for val

uable thingsfor the Mantle of the Prophet brought by Selim

from Mecca, for the library of scientific books that Mehmed

the Conqueror had started to collect. These were valuables

of the House of Osman. Across from them stood the schools of

the young apprentices. Often as he passed by he heard flutes

or viols playing where these boys who were studying to rule

an empire snatched a moment of pleasure, unaware that the

Sultan was listening.

Suleiman, of course, could go where the whim seized him.

No door from the Danube to the end of the Nile was closed to

him. Tall and withdrawn, seemingly cold and sure of himself,

he drew only admiring glances and murmured salutation from

observers, "Long life . . . many years to the fortunate son of

Selim."

His perfect attire, usually in matched gray and white, or

black and gold, his careful manner, hid his shyness and his

dread. Inwardly he shrank from the task awaiting him, of find

ing sustenance and giving laws to the hundreds of thousands

who now depended on him.

He went through the daily routine expected of him, grateful

that in the stress of these first months no one had leisure to

observe his weakness. Ibrahim's words chimed with his

thoughts: One man, and one purpose. Within his family he felt

at ease, and when he could steal off to hunt with a small group.

He repeated words of his own, "My family, and my people."

Vainly he tried to think that the one might become like the

other, someday. But he did not have much hope of that.

THE SUMMONS

Even \vhen lie was escorted through the treasure house by

the Steward of the Treasury he felt terror of the task imposed

on him. Among the bundles carefully labeled and sealed, they

showed him the heavy sword, almost straight/ of Mehmed the

Conqueror. He did not want to take it into his hand. They

showed him the peacock plumes of Murad, and the gold bro

cade that had been worn at feasts by his own father. Suleiman

turned to clocks encased in mother-of-pearl, gifts of the Euro

peans, and to stacked dishes of delicate green and deep blue

Chinese porcelain. "I would like to have these used, instead

of stored here," he explained. And at once the dishes were taken

from the shelves by die steward's servants.

In fact the Treasury was like a storehouse. It held pearl-

sewn saddles, silver-gilt stirrups, even a jeweled fly swatter.

Most of the things had been gifts to the sultans, who in turn

made gifts from their stored treasures at the feasts such as New

Year's or the Prophet's birthday. It was wrong to hoard wealth.

A chest of gold ducats, tribute paid in by Venice, was marked

to be sent over to the Arsenal, for shipbuilding ... in a dark

corridor Suleiman observed plain garments of heavy white felt

and black lambskin. These, he was told, had belonged to the

ancestors of his house, to Osman and to Ertoghrul.

Again the steward had to tell him the legend of the shadowy

Ertoghrul. How the Osmanli clan of no more than four hun

dred and forty-four families under their chieftain Ertoghrul had

wandered across the Anatolian plain over two centuries ago,

when more powerful peoples were fleeing west from the sweep

of the victorious Mongols. It had been a time of starvation, but

Ertoghrul had kept his herds together and his people had

survived, until the day when they sighted a battle in progress

on the plain below them. They watched it, knowing nothing of

the battle.

Then Ertoghrul led them down into it, rushing to aid the

horsemen that were having the worst of the affair. This unex

pected charge of the Turkish clan had aided the mighty Sultan

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Kaikhosru, whose horsemen had been the Seljuk Turks, to

defeat and drive off a Mongol army. In reward, so the legend

said, Kaikhosru had bestowed lands on Ertoghrul's clan

That small holding of land, Suleiman understood, had been

the beginning of the fortune of the Osmanlis, near the Ankara

River. The fighters of the clan had served at times with the

weakening Seljuks, at times with the Byzantine forces . cling

ing to the last frontiers of Rome. Fighting men, breeding and

recruiting others, looting along the limbo of the frontiers, dar

ing to encircle great cities, capturing the cities after years by

their stubborn land blockade how could a walled city survive

when all roads to it were cut off ? then capturing cannon and

technicians to cast new and larger cannon, then taking tribute

from wealthy states as a price of their protection, such had been

the first Osmanlis, a flotsam of swordsmen, swirling among

the human tides. And then, the Seljuks vanishing, with Kai-

kobad and Kaikhosru, while the Byzantines sickened and wea

ried behind the triple walls of Constantinople, leaving the Os

manlis the only strong nucleus of men under discipline, and

under leadership so daring that it held back at nothing crossing

the swift Dardanelles when an earthquake crippled the forts

on the far side, dragging their ships over a neck of land into the

Golden Horn, breaking down the triple walls of impregnable

Constantinople. Such had been the incredible rise of the Os

manlis.

They were the first tribal people of mid-Asia to break their

way into Europe, there to stay and to rule.

It had been accomplished, Suleiman believed, by no miracle

or God-given fortune but by the ability of the Osmanlis them-

selves-by the exertions of nine extraordinary men. Osman

had worn this coat of rough animal hair. Selim had worn the

banquet robe of spun gold. If one of the nine had been a

weakling during the two and a half centuries of their rise, the

chain of success would have been broken and the Osmanli

Turks would have been no more than another warlike nomad

THE SUMMONS

nucleus, like the dour White Sheep Turkomans. Some of the

nine had shown weakness. Murad had been reckless, and Selim

callous in his cruelty. Perhaps in memory their great qualities

had been told and their faults forgotten. Yet the careless Murad

had organized an invincible army, the Turkish asker. And Selim,

a visionary, had led that army in a triumph like the storied Alex

ander's across Asia from the Nile to the snow mountains of

Kurdistan. No, if one link in the chain had actually failed, the

chain would have broken.

Now he, Suleiman, stood in the odd Treasury of his family,

the tenth of the line. Already the Europeans, and Ibrahim,

spoke of him as emperor. In what direction was he to lead, and

what destiny could he grasp for his people? Did not the great

task become increasingly difficult with each generation's rise?

Or had the Osmanlis, by overcoming incredible difficulties,

earned for their people a still undreamed-of destiny?

Not even Piri Pasha could answer that question for him.

Ibrahim might, in time. Suleiman, impartial and keenly intel

ligent, understood his own failings too well. Sensitive, lie took

refuge in gentleness; fastidious, he wanted only fine things close

to him, like the lovely Chinese porcelain. Without clear pur

pose of his own as yet, he depended on others; he felt that

wiser men must guide him. Without any desire to lead an army

his father had kept hii*i at posts far from any military com

mandhe realized that he must either allow the Osmanli army

to go its own way, or he must alter the nature of Osmanli rule

in some way to dispense with the all-powerful army. Neither of

these alternatives seemed at all possible.

Certainly the Ayin warned him not to tamper with the army.

In his nursery Suleiman had learned the old song about the

four vital things:

To hold a land you need armed men,

To keep armed men you share out property,

To have property you need a rich folk,

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Only by laws can you make folk rich

If one of these lacks, all four will lack,

Where all four lack, the land is lost.

About this time, without confiding in anyone Suleiman de

cided to set himself against the ancient Ayin. In doing so he

would change the army. He would make law the first of the

four vital things. By new laws he would rule the land, and it

would not be lost.

In one corner of the Treasury stood the first standard of the

Osmanlis, a small pole with a battered brass crescent under

which hung two dried-out white horsetails. The ancient wood

was carefully oiled, the long hairs combed smooth. Smiling, the

attendants told Suleiman that a chieftain long before Osman

had lost his standard in a battle, and had slashed the tail from

a horse to make this new one, on the instant.

To these men who crowded around him respectfully, he,

Suleiman, was no more than the youth who must carry out the

task of mTing; they wanted him to feel the importance of a

wooden pole and a horsetail.

(He could not know, because the memories of those around

him held no vestige of it, how the people still depended on one

chieftain. In the past they followed that chieftain or they de

serted him, as they desired. Theirs had been a voluntary asso

ciation. They still kept the order and the discipline of the

nomad group that had been obliged to transport itself as a unit

over pasturelands, with each member sharing in the labor. They

still hoarded old garments and chests because in their arduous

passage over the plains such articles had been rare, and hard

to make. They still waited for the chieftain to point out the

line of march, which they might or might not consent to fol

low.

(It was the peculiarity of the Osmanli Turks that they mi

grated through many changes but changed little themselves. To

THE SUMMONS

these Turks the ancient horsetails, like the fires on their hearths,

represented their own past, their continuing existence. )

Unmistakably Suleiman realized the first need of his people.

Fertile land to produce ample food and the good grass on which

herds thrived, whether horses or Angora goats. From the day

of Osman and the earliest owned land, everything had been

based on peasant fanning. This base of the peasant with his

ox and wooden plow could not be altered or disturbed. The

army, for instance, might bring in loot from far afield as the

nomad riders of the clan had carried back spoil to add to the

stored-up treasure; but primarily the army must acquire new

lands along watered valleys or rich riversheds, to feed the in

creasing numbers of mouths.

In consequence, the first duty of the new ruler was to nour

ish the hundreds of thousands who adhered to him. Whenever

Suleiman came out of the Treasury, he thought how little a

thing it was compared to the vast raw earth seeded for harvest

In very truth he himself was the servant of that earth.

The Rose Garden between Two Worlds

His first laws had to do with care of fallow land, and summer

and winter pasturage, and tithes to be paid by keepers of bee

hives. In such matters his spoken word, urf, became kanun, a

law to be obeyed.

Only by custom and courtesy was his minister, Piri Pasha,

acknowledged to be the Bearer of the Burden. In reality the

burden of responsibility lay upon the Sultan, and now, entering

his twenty-sixth year, he accepted it to the full-"to feed and

to lead." It is quite clear that he decided at once to lead his

people toward Europe.

Probably he decided it in the fourth courtyard of the Serai

Burnu. This space, lying behind the other three busy courts,

was really a miniature forest of old pines and twisted cypresses

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

on the very point of the Serai where the three-mile encircling

wall came down close to the water. Successive sultans had made

it their private garden, and the gardeners had made a toy lake,

a nest of rose beds and a secluded meadow where they could

pray by the fountains. Only the back windows of the Treasury

of the Holy Mantle overlooked it.

But the garden point overlooked the outer life of the city.

Down one slope beyond it stretched the training fields where

young apprentices raced their horses, sporting with a wooden

ball or hard-thrown javelins. They stabled their horses in the

empty shells of Byzantine monasteries.

When Suleiman climbed the Path That Made the Camel

Scream so christened by the young gardeners who were also

apprentices, learning to aid him in government the winds of

outer space buffeted him. Here he stood, actually, between

his two worlds of the east and west. Across from him in Asia

the cypresses of Chamhja rose against the sky. To his right dim

islands lay along the White (Marmora) Sea that led to the

vaster Mediterranean in the west. To his left the wind ruffled

and whitened the water lane of the Bosphorus that led to the

Black Sea and the caravan tracks of the east.

Nowhere else on earth could a monarch walk in his garden

and behold the vistas of his power stretching away from him

to the coasts of two continents, the waters of two seas. Behind

him the sunsets glowed on the twisted harbor fringed by masts

of moored fishing craft and galleys, the teeming shining inlet

that resembled a ram's horn in shape and so was called the

Golden Horn. Beyond the forest of masts lay the sheds of his

Arsenal, the dark warehouses and palaces of the Venetians, the

Genoese, the Greeks and Ragusans who carried on their trade

by his sufferance.

On such walks the gentle Piri Pasha accompanied him, be

cause Suleiman could take no rest from thought until he slept

after the kst prayer. Piri Pasha urged him to think as a judge

THE SUMMONS

and to be in no haste to act. "Haste is from the Devil and pa

tience is from God."

And patiently Piri Pasha drew the mind of his young master

toward Asia. There lay the security of old familiar things. What

matter if the dhows drifted slowly down the Nile, if the Nile

at flood brought rich black earth down to its desert banks?

What if the donkey trains of Jews plodded slowly past Aleppo,

to seek the road to Samarkand? They brought back, in time,

their loads of white paper and blue turquoise, of spice and

Chinaware. Why should pilgrims rush along the other roads

to the Dome of the Rock, at the Holy City (Jerusalem), or the

desert path to the shrine within the Ka'aba of Mecca? They

brought back with them a foretaste of salvation. Against that,

what mattered the sacks of gold ore that Berber camels fetched

out from the hidden mines of Africa to the trace of the Roman

road that wound along the African coast from the fallen domes

of Alexandria to the bustling port of Algiers the Island in the

far west. No, let trade take its course to the west, and westerners

weigh their silver and count their piled-up coins. Their profit

availed nothing after death. Then the slow-striding pilgrim

would overtake them, on the way to God's mercy.

"Eleven armed men cannot rob me/* quoth Piri Pasha, "if I

have nothing in my wallet!"

As for wealth, let Suleiman the son of Selim count if he

could the incalculable treasures of Asia. Up in the farther moun

tains streams flowed without ceasing from the snows of Argh*

Dagh, the Mountain of Noah's Ark; more than sapphires was the

blue of the great Lake Van; more than emeralds the green of

the Syrian prairies fed by the headwaters of Euphrates; more

than gold the ripple of ripe wheat where the streams of Tigris

flowed from the hills. Even from their depths the mountains

yielded salt without stint. On the bare breast of the Anatolian

plain the finest horse herds fattened and increased. Such wealth

as this did not vanish overnight; it came from the hand of God,

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Piri Pasha would point across the water to the opposite height.

"VaOahl Before the memory of living men Europeans came

there, to build their City of Gold. Perhaps they were Greeks.

Where is it now, their city? Only the green grove of Chamlija

remains."

"And only the dead stay there," Suleiman reminded the old

man. "The living come from here."

"What is dead! In that early time the Greek Pythagoras

taught that all substance endures, to immortality. All relates

to all, and never does anything new enter our visible world.

Although he was a Greek, he spoke the truth."

Unmistakably Piri Pasha disliked the ways of Europeans, and

especially of Ibrahim, the Captain of the Inner Household. In

Europe, he insisted, they did not breed proper horses; they

built dwellings not to be serviceable as tents but to tower in

the streets shutting out the sunlight; they hugged their fires

in winter, and bathed their bodies internally with wine; to get

food in their cities they struggled, shouting as if drunk, in the

market place. They wrote down their affairs and sciences in

books, but did not honor a spoken word. As for religion, did they

not burn the head of one of their dervish orders, a certain

Savonarola, at the stake; did they not try to buy salvation with

money at their churches? In very truth, they strove murder

ously for temporary gain, passing by what was permanent.

Still Suleiman in the energy of his youth resolved to turn

his back on the Black Sea and seek the Mediterranean, and

to lead his Turks among the Europeans to learn their way of

life. Was he not, as they were, of a white race? Were not his

eyes as light as theirs, his skin as clear? If he changed garments

with one of them, he could appear to be one of them.

When the snows melted away that first spring of 1521 the

army mobilized. When the freshets had dwindled and the new

grass afforded grazing to the horse herds, the scattered divisions

of the army began to move north to carry out the task that

THE SUMMONS

Selim had set for it, which had been delayed by his death. That

task was to break into eastern Europe.

Suleiman had almost nothing to do with it. Piri Pasha and

the other veteran generals saw to it that he had no responsibility

to shoulder. They knew his lack of experience in warfare. They

even made much of a grievance that caused the Turks to march

again. A certain messenger sent, they said, to the Hungarian

court to announce Suleiman's accession last autumn had been

mistreated his ears and his nose had been sliced off. o the

army was moving against the Hungarians in retribution.

That, if true, was no more than a pretext. The army in reality

was carrying out the wish of the Yavuz Sultan, to push the in

vasion of Europe. To be exact and Piri Pasha showed Suleiman

how it appeared on the map the army would accomplish this

summer what both Selim and Mehmed the Conqueror had failed

to do, shatter the European defense line of the river Danube.

It would capture the White City, Belgrade. This White City,

strong on its height on their side, south, of the mighty Danube

served as a bridgehead for the Europeans. It reared insolently

in the gap where the Danube left one mass of mountains and

entered another. By capturing it the army of Suleiman would

open a road between the mountains to Buda and Prague and

Vienna.

Suleiman grasped the significance of the map. There was no

alternative for him, except to decline to lead the army to open

that road of invasion. Without him the janizaris, for example,

would refuse to march.

"Yes," he agreed, "we will go to the White City/'

Then, they told him, he must give an order for the sounding

of the great bronze drum that was the drum of conquest. With

a word he gave the order, and almost at once he heard the

metallic bong of the drum by the Great Gate. It was a strange

sound, the reverberation of the drujn in the winding streets of

the city, as if a brazen voice called to the throngs, Take the

road that waits march out to the far lands.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Piri Pasha said it was the voice of the Young Troops, the

Yenicheri that Europeans called the janizaris.

Long before in the steppes of Asia, said Piri Pasha and the

distinguished old men, the Osmanlis who had never numbered

more than a few thousands had trained captured boys to ride

to war with them. The Osmanlis made use of strange peoples

as the early steppe dwellers made use of animal herds. Out of

recruited boys they organized new conquests, thus obtaining

new land and the service of still other peoples.

Here in Europe they continued to add Christian captives to

the number of the Turkish boys; but they also drafted boys

every three or four years from the Christian families of the

"inner nations." From each family they took a son of seven or

eight years, young enough not to be bound by the ties of his

home. These boys were examined at receiving centers from

Adrianople, the old Turkish capital, to Brusa where stood the

tombs of the earlier sultans. Then the recruits were given new

names and sent to field work where they would be strengthened

and learn to speak Turkish.

These selected youths were nourished and clothed and

watched carefully, the brightest minds being sent to the schools.

The greater part became ajem-oghlans, "foreign boys" working

in the gardens, on the ships at Gallipoli, or serving at the messes

of the graduated janizaris, as they chose. These last had con

stant training in the weapons of war, particularly with the light

swords, slender steel javelins, or the short powerful Turkish

bow. Usually they disliked the new clumsy firelocks. Some

chose to train with horses, thus becoming spahis, or riders.

At twenty years of age the ajem-oghlans had become athletes,

expert with weapons, disciplined and bound by the ties of their

brotherhood. Barracks had become their homes. After that

they graduated into the ranks of the janizaris, qualified to wear

the long dervish cap, or they entered the troops of spahis as

vacancies occurred.

It did not matter whether they had come originally from

THE SUMMONS

privileged or poverty-ridden families. (Many foreign parents

tried to have their sons entered among the Sultan's apprentices

who might rise to posts of high responsibility; many of the boys

remained Christian at heart. ) In this severe training with al

most no pay the Young Troops had nothing but their ability to

aid them, and their loyalty was given only to the Sultan.

They had the unruly spirit of the young, long confinement

in the city irked them; they had been trained to march, to give

battle, and to police captured territories. They longed to be

moving on the roads at their swift pace that was half a run

toward fresh lands and opportunity.

"It is not good for them in the city," said Piri Pasha, "where

they chew the bitter root of drill and eat in house kitchens.

But you must lead them."

When the drum of the janizaris began to sound outside their

barracks, Suleiman upset tradition unexpectedly by appearing

among them on foot. At the moment they were lined up to draw

their pay, before marching. For generations the sultans had

been their honorary commanders, and they were very jealous

of that distinction. Now this young and handsome Sultan came

among them, actually, to draw his pay as an officer.

In expectant silence the disciplined figures in their baggy

trousers and soft leather boots made way for Suleiman. The

stalwart Agha of the Janizaris pulled at his long mustache as

Suleiman took a heavy handful of silver aspers from the pay

master. That would be something, the agha promised himself,

to tell the cavalry. Nothing could have touched these lifetime

soldiers more than to witness the Sultan himself pouching his

pay. This youngling, they boasted in barracks afterward, was

no longer wet behind the ears; no, he was a true foot slogger,

a Young Trooper at heart, and the spahis, the Riders, could

move to the rear now where they belonged. The son of Selim

wanted no pay as a spahi.

It had been a gesture on Suleiman's part, but a most timely

one. He had joined the wild brotherhood that he feared most.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Nor did he try to seclude himself on the inarch north as he had

in the city. He went among the troops constantly, questioning

the oldest o them, and making decisions only as the more ex

perienced commanders advised him.

Although he appeared to be leading it, Suleiman actually

merely followed the fighting front. So the thing he had dreaded

became a pleasant journey, up into the northern valleys where

European castles stood like landmarks of earlier advances.

Daily he heard discussion of great victories of the past. At

Nicopolis the last Christian crusade had been annihilated; at

Kossovo the Field of the Crows the proud Serbs had sub

mitted to the power that never since the day of Mehmed had

known defeat.

The White City

Except that he journeyed forward each day and slept in a

luxurious tent guarded by a select band of archers, his routine

remained much like that of the Serai. The Organization, his

government, traveled with him, from Piri Pasha to the lower

secretary-treasurers. The standing army of janizaris and spahis

stayed close to him as before. Only their musicians played for

him each evening, and workmanlike engineers prepared the

road for the passage of the massive siege guns escorted by the

cannoneers.

Wherever he moved, a human barrier formed around him

a detachment of solaks, who were the hundred and fifty veteran

janizaris with the sole duty of guarding the Sultan's Hfe. They

carried their bows ready strung, and took their posts outside

the ropes of his pavilion at night. On the march another detach

ment ran beside him, like dogs around the horse of their master.

They were the peiks or trained runners who carried his mes

sages or fetched him what he desired.

He saw nothing of the foragers and light horsemen flung far

THE SUMMONS

ahead, to pillage supplies from the "Lands of War/' Only on

the map could he trace the movements of the Army of Europe,

and the other Army of Asia. These great masses of horsemen

were the feudal levies made up of Turkish landowners, with

armed followers. Mobilized each season, drawing no pay, they

foraged for themselves, coming in as the grass ripened from

the warm south to the cold north. Long camel trains followed

the Army of Asia.

These two strong wings of the fighting forces could act inde

pendently or fall back upon the support of the Sultan's regular

army, the core of the janizaris and the heavy artillery that had

never given ground to an enemy.

As Suleiman rode north, these distant wings were envelop

ing and taking the smaller castles along the Danube. Piri Pasha

had laid siege to Belgrade itself. Meanwhile up the water route

of the Danube war vessels and supply barges were pushing their

way against the current. There was little for Suleiman to do

except observe, and sit in council when the occasion called

for it.

Suleiman kept a daily journal. It has survived the centuries.

So little he wrote each day, it seems as if he meant one word

to suffice for one day. At such and such a place they halted,

he noted. Or, simply, "Rest." But beyond the terseness and the

cold accuracy, the journal reveals a curious interest in the differ

ent people who came before the Sultan's eyes. A certain rider

was beaten with staffs because he trampled growing crops in a

field; an infantryman was beheaded for stealing turnips from

a garden. (They were still in the "land of peace" under Turkish

responsibility, and rigid orders forbade the troops to damage

the countryside. Once they crossed into the enemy Lands of

War the situation was to be different. )

July 7. "Word comes in of the taking of Sabaks. One hundred

heads of soldiers of the garrison who did not escape with the

others, arrive in camp. . . ." July 8. "These heads are placed

along the line of march." . . .

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

At the river Save a bridge must be built over the flood. July

9. "Halt. . . . Suleiman [so he speaks of himself] quarters him

self in a hut to speed up the bridge building by his pres

ence The Sultan shows himself constantly near the bridge/*

July 18. "The bridge is finished. The Save rises to its floor."

July 19. "The water flows over it, making passage impossible.

Order to make the crossing in flatboats."

The heavy supplies are detoured another way. This task of

crossing the flooded Save becomes important to Suleiman; being

present, he is responsible.

After his arrival at besieged Belgrade, the journal gives the

same laconic, clear details. Yet, piecing them together, we see

a picture of the unconquered sentinel city falling. Its flanking

cities have gone; Turkish ships have closed the river behind

it; detachments of janizaris hold the islands. Heavy siege guns

on both sides of the river batter down sections of the outer wall

of Belgrade.

August 3. "The Agha of the Janizaris, Bali Agha, is wounded."

August 8. "The enemy give up the defense of the city, and set

it afire, retiring into the citadel/'

August 9. "Order to mine under the towers of the citadel."

August 10. "The cannon placed in new batteries."

After a week the garrison, cut off without prospect of relief,

offers to surrender. The commandant comes out to Mss Sulei

man's hand and be given a kaftan. "The believers are called to

prayer, and the army musicians play three times within Bel

grade, Suleiman crosses the bridge and enters Belgrade, where

he goes to Friday prayer in a church of the outer city, changed

over into a mosque."

The next day Bali Agha is presented with three thousand

aspers. Hungarian captives are allowed to cross the river and

depart. The Serbs among them are sent south to Constantinople

(where they settled in a suburb that they named Belgrade).

Suleiman rides through all the captured city to inspect it, and

THE SUMMONS

then goes hunting. For the new governor of Belgrade he selects

Bali Agha.

A note of pride appeared in the journal's entries after that.

Suleiman had played his part well. His army had taken over

the line of the middle Danube with Sabaks, Semlin, and

Semendria as well as Belgrade turning the captured batteries

north across the river, cutting down the forest that screened

the shore. Beyond that front a corridor had been opened to

ward middle Europe. Suleiman could well afford to ride off

to hunt.

What he had most feared had not happened. Incredibly, no

European army of relief had appeared at the river. It seemed

as if the European leaders had been taken by surprise, or they

had been too occupied elsewhere with the new Emperor,

Charles, to give aid to the doomed Danube. For the first time

Suleiman observed how his enemies were weakened by their

divided counsels. He remembered Ibrahim's saying, the strength

of "One man, and one purpose/'

But he was not at all sure that he wanted those same Euro

pean brother monarchs to be enemies. As to that, he kept his

own counsel, even from Ibrahim.

As if at a signal, at the first frosts of September the Turkish

field army turned homeward, laden with its spoil which went

to pay for the mobilization. On the way, the armies scattered,

to regain their own countries in time to get in the last harvests.

The horses had to be home before the last grass failed; the

camels could not survive autumn cold in the north. The well-

being of the animals and the crops had to come before military

niceties at the end of a campaign.

Suleiman had been fortunate, and he displayed a new pride

in success when he sent official announcement of the capture of

Belgrade to the two European courts on friendly terms with

him-Venice and Ragusa. The startled Venetians rewarded the

Turkish ambassador with five hundred gold ducats.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

"The Turks go to a war as if to a wedding/' they complained

afterward.

In Rome the energetic Paolo Giovio wrote in his Commen

tarysaying nothing more about his prophecy that Suleiman

would be as a lamb and not a lion- f Their discipline under arms

is due to their justice and severity, which surpasses that of the

ancient Romans. They surpass our soldiers for three reasons:

they obey their commanders without question; they seem to

care nothing at all for their lives, in battle; they go for a long

time without bread or wine, being content with barley and

water."

In Engknd Henry VIII made his own comment. "The news

is lamentable and of importance to all Christianity."

When Suleiman returned to his city, people came out beyond

the cypresses on the hill of Ayub to greet him joyfully. They

lined the streets when he rode to the mosque to pray. Those

who had made the hard march he rewarded with gifts; for the

city dwellers he prepared a feast under lighted lamps. The

Venetians who attended this festival after Belgrade had defi

nite misgivings that in him they were confronted again by one

of the great Turks.

Lands 01

The Bastard of the Magnifica Comunita

S THE second year of Suleiman's reign came to its end,

Messer Marco Memmo, ambassador of the Illustrious

Signory of Venice, celebrated the theoretical feast day of his

namesake St. Mark with mingled satisfaction and apprehen

sion. His satisfaction was due to the fact that he had just signed,

as token of his own astuteness, the first bilateral foreign treaty

of the young Sultan, on behalf of his native Venice, thereby

stirring the jealousy of his rivals the podesta of Genoa, the

envoy of Ragusa and the agent of the King of Poland. These

were the only representatives of European powers dwelling

among the infidel Turks, and of this small diplomatic corps

Messer Marco rightly deemed himself to be the most important.

His apprehension was caused by observing from the roof

gallery of his palace adjoining the Baillio in Galata an increas

ing activity in the Turkish Arsenal below him. From the ship-

ways of the Arsenal galleys were being launched that strangely

resembled the finest Venetian warcraf t. Memmo suspected that

they had been built from Venetian plans, although he could not

discover who had sold the plans to the Turks. Nor could he

learn definitely how the unpredictable Osmanlis intended to

make use of their new vessels.

It annoyed Messer Marco that he himself should have so

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

much appearance of power with so little reality. In his Magnified

Comunitahis city within a city halberdiers took their posts

around the walls with beat of drum and parade of flags. From

the summit of his massive Galata tower he looked across the

entrance of the Golden Horn to the woodland point where the

great Sultan dwelt in gardens that had nothing martial about

them, except perhaps the slender watchtower projecting from

the treetops. Yet at a word from Suleiman he and the foreign

colony would be obliged to evacuate their Magnificent Quarter.

They remained there because Mehmed the Conqueror, who

had captured Constantinople, had said that they could do so.

By his permission they could enjoy all their old privileges

of bartering for Turkish grain, slaves, horses, silk or spice. He

had merely asked that the keys of the Galata gates be sent over

to him in token surrender, and that the Christians take down

their church bells which disturbed the Moslems at the hours

of prayer. So Messer Marco remained as the guest of the

Osmanlis, never quite certain what the morrow might bring.

Being a nobleman of intelligence, he understood but would

not admit that the sea power of the Illustrious Signory was

on the wane, while the makeshift fleets of the Turks were ven

turing farther and farther out into the sea lanes. "They say,"

Luigi Gritti assured him, "that we are old, and remarkable for

our wealth and treachery/*

At Marco's feast in the gilded hall of the Baillio, at his table

loaded with venison flavored by Chian wine, with stuffed

pheasants, rare swordfish from the White Sea, lobster from the

Bosphorus, dainty truffles and sweetmeats to go with the Oporto,

this same Luigi Gritti sat like a skeleton at the feast of gourmets,

a mocking mask, an unbridled tongue. Luigi Gritti, the bastard

of the respected Andrea Gritti, out of a Greek woman of the

islands, was accounted half a renegade, for he bolstered his

cynical pride by going among the Turks who made no differ

ence between a bastard and a lawful son. He spoke their bar

barous language. Messer -Marco invited this voluntary exile

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from the Serene Republic to his board for the reason that

Gritti was apt to have ferreted out the secrets of the Turks.

When Memmo, wanned by wine and success, confessed that

he had gained by his new treaty a yearly carrying trade for

Venice worth tens of thousands of gold ducats, the Gritti bas

tard dared ask him if he had gained so much, what had he lost?

Nothing, said Memmo, or next to nothing. A detail only.

Under the new treaty Venetian vessels would heave to off

Gallipoli light, to report themselves and request formal per

mission to enter Turkish ports.

A detail only, the lean and ranting Gritti conceded. Yet with

out that slight punctilio, no ship of the Signory might land

a cargo. Was it for that the Magnificence, the ambassador,

agreed to pay tribute?

Touched in his pride, Memmo pointed out that he had agreed

to pay little for a valuable concession, to wit: ten thousand

ducats a year as rental for the island of Cyprus and five hun

dred for tiny Zante. "We have never paid tribute."

"Until now," corrected Gritti.

It irritated Memmo that this should be true. Since Cyprus

and Zante still belonged to Venice, the money paid ostensibly

for their hire and usance was actually tribute.

"Mark you," Gritti pressed, "how gently it is done, with what

solicitude for our self-esteem? I see Suleiman's hand in this,

not Piri Pasha's."

Not a word of Memmo's astuteness! Angry now, the ambas

sador stormed at the knowing bastard. This same Suleiman,

this gentil-homme par excellence, had offered him a gift after

the ceremony of signing the treaty. A truly courteous gift.

Wrapped in a silk kerchief, a human head. An evil-smelling

head cut off from the body of a rebel, they said, a Ghazi Some

thing

"Ghazali's. Ferhad Pasha, the Third Vizir, brought it from

Syria."

"And your mild-mannered Suleiman offered it to me." With

a grimace the ambassador wiped his hands on his ample skirts.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

"I was obliged to thank him I had much ado to refuse it with

out offending old Piri Pasha. By the three Archangels, why did

they offer it? What do you make of it, Luigi?"

After considering a moment, Gritti held out four fingers.

"Four items I make of it, Magnificence. Item one: these Turks

have a saying, in making a promise, "On my head/ Item two:

they also have a saying that our Signory is sagacious and full

of treachery. Item three: Your Magnificence, a righteous man

but still an ambassador, had just signed a pledge of faith. Item

four: the head of another wight who did not keep faith is

dumped in your lap for a going-away gift. Ecco add together

these four items and what answer do you arrive at?"

Ruefully Memmo caressed the back of his stout neck. These

Turks had a barbarous habit of holding diplomats personally

responsible for a treaty. They did not, or would not, understand

diplomatic immunity. "I might have expected it of Selim," he

murmured, f but not of Suleiman."

Gritti thought, They have been looking at heron's plumes and

a gentle smile. What if gentleness can mask a fiendish strength?

"I say we have been blind when we reported him young and

careless and gay, utterly unlike Selim. Selim, I grant you, was

fearsome. But his son who rides so merrily to hunt may be

terrible."

Not long after that, Luigi Gritti began to cultivate the friend

ship of those in the palace across the water. Since it was im

possible now to gain admission to Suleiman, he sought for one

whom the Sultan favored, and found him in Ibrahim. The

bastard and the Captain of the Inner Palace had certain things

in common; both had Greek mothers, and a sense of hard

reality.

School of the Tribute Children

Like almost all the others who held command under the

Turkish Organization, Ibrahim had graduated from the School.

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More, as Gritti soon found out, the favored Greek had grad

uated with the highest honors.

As to the School itself, the foreign observers disagreed heart

ily. Some believed it to be stricter than the monasteries of

Europe proper. At least one said, "If this is a monastery, I vow

that all the devils must be cloistered there."

Not that the School had been made a mystery. It was simply

the Enderun or Enclosed School Situated in the third court of

the palace grounds, actually housed within the broad wall it

self, the School was truly enclosed, and few foreigners ever

laid eyes on it.

Suleiman sometimes visited the halls of the School in the

small hours of the night. Old custom required the Sultan to do

this, as if he were a watchman. With a gray felt mantle drawn

over him and candles carried behind him by the night watch

men, he passed silently through the dormitories. In those dor

mitories slept some six hundred boys, aged from eight to eight

een.

Whenever Suleiman passed through the schoolrooms, he felt

the impress of the mind of his great-grandfather, the Con

queror. The huge wall map of the known world hanging in the

eating hall had been made at the Conqueror's demand. In fact

Mehmed had started the garden outside the hall with his own

hands. He had sought avidly for Byzantine philosophers, to

translate geographies and the scienceseven demanding manu

scripts instead of money as tribute from the enlightened city of

Ragusa.

So intent had the Conqueror been on the wisdom of the

Byzantines that it was said his School had become like Plato's

Republic, creating fine minds in hardened bodies. (Before his

time the School had served only to train youths physically for

the janizaris and other war corps.)

Now in the opinion of foreigners like Gritti, the School was

the secret of the amazing rise to power of the Turks.

For the boys of the School were not Turks at birth. They were

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the children of outlanders, Albanians, Serbs, Slavs of the north,

Georgians and Circassians from the eastern mountains, Greeks

from the seacoast, and even Croats and Germans. Most of them

came, like Ibrahim, from Christian families.

Often they had been the "tribute children" three thousand

being required from the outlying peoples every third year or

slave children purchased from the markets at Lemnos or Kaffa,

or sons brought in by their parents, to be registered in the

School. (The Palace School of Suleiman had only the pick of

the children, carefully selected from reception centers through

out the lands; they were the chosen few, the candidates for the

rule of the Organization which -in turn, under the eye of the

Sultan, ruled the empire. )

Parents frequently wanted one of their children to become

a student or apprentice of the Sultan, because the boy might

excel over others and be appointed regimental commander in

the spahis, a Judge of the Army, a treasurer, or even minister,

like aged Piri Pasha. By recruiting youths trained to arms in this

fashion, the farming peasantry of the Osmanlis was not drained

away from the soil.

When a boy registered in the School, he left his old ties be

hind. He was separated from his family and given a new name.

Once he passed through the Great Gate as an apprentice

student, he was not allowed to leave, except to go with those

of his own hall to the archery fields on the heights by the cem

eteries, or to accompany the Sultan, rarely, on a special mission.

The thirty boys of finest appearance, who passed the tests

with the best marks, were taken into the personal service of the

Sultan as pages. To this Sultan the boy's loyalty was given; for

years he learned obedience, standing motionless with crossed

hands and lowered eyes if he happened to be sent into the

presence of his Sultan; at the end of the years, he was released

from the Great Gate to full responsibility far afield. Yet he knew

that the training of the Sultan himself had been no less rigorous.

Once graduated, he was not allowed to set foot in the School

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again, unless by chance he became the Vizir, or the Mufti.

"His ministers," Machiavelli called them. "... his ministers

being all slaves and bondmen, can only be corrupted with great

difficulty, and little advantage can be expected by doing so ...

hence he who attacks the Turk must bear in mind that he will

find him united . . . but if once the Turk has been routed in

the field in such a way that he cannot replace his armies, there

is nothing to fear but the family of the prince."

The boys were not slaves. Suleiman himself was the son of a

woman who had been a slave, but was now empress-mother.

They were being trained as warrior-statesmen. He had been

trained to lead them. The tie between the boys and the Sultan

was one of loyalty, in both. . . .

They wakened when the night watchmen came through the

dormitories to light all the candles. Then they had a half hour

to wash themselves at the copper taps over the marble basins

the Enclosed School had the same fittings as the palace to put

on skullcaps, tight tunics and baggy trousers, with their soft

slipper-boots ready to their hands. At the end of the half hour

their bedding must be rolled snug and hung against the wall be

hind them. Their personal belongings must be packed away in

the large wooden chests. Behind each chest a boy knelt, with

his notes and books arranged on the chest top between two

lighted candles.

As the half hour ended, before the first streak of dawn, music

sounded. Over in the second court the band of the janizaris

played reveille for the Sultan's rising. The chime of bell-staffs,

the shrilling of flutes and the diapason of deep voices singing

had a merry sound.

While they waited one of them who had a musical voice read

aloud from the Book-to-Be-Read. "Say: I betake me for refuge

to the Lord of Men, the King of men, and to the God of men

against the evil of the stealthy whisperer, who whispers in mans

breast, against him "

As the last stars faded, a command was spoken and the boys

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

filed out silently, slipping on their boots and swinging through

the darkness with arms folded across their chests, to the School

mosque, for the dawn prayer.

Then began the work of the day. At the third hour after sun

rise they had their first meal of soup, broiled lamb and a slice of

bread. It was always the same, and sufficient to keep up their

strength.

They had their jokes in the halls. A sleeping place once

occupied by Egyptians, they named the Stall of Fleas. Asked

how they passed the hours of the day, they would answer

gravely: "We rest from study by learning to wrestle and ride

in the playing fields; we rest from such manual exercise by

learning to pky flutes, viols and bagpipes indoors; when we eat,

we are entertained by prayers, and when we sleep, the watch

man wakes us up."

After full dark, their evening study began in the dormitories.

A boy could choose a subject of his own to follow out apart

from the required religion, philosophy, mathematics, athletics

and military exercises and music provided he did well at it. At

that hour, too, the instructor who lived in the hall "He Who

Trains" read out the totals of commendation and punishment

earned by each student during the day. Punishments ranged

from a public scolding to beating with wooden staffs. Such

punishments had to be administered carefully, however. If the

instructor was too hard on a boy he himself had to take the

public beating he had administered, or he might have his right

hand cut off.

Suleiman asked to see a boy who had refused a robe of honor,

bestowed for fine work. This eighteen-year-old Mehmed Sokolli

requested instead of the robe permission to visit his parents.

That was not allowed. Besides, Sokolli had earned a large total

of beatings in his earlier years.

The case interested Suleiman because Ibrahim alone had

been granted such permission, to leave the Great Gate to visit

his father, when he had been in the Enclosed School.

LANDS OF WAR

When questioned, Sokolli, whose record showed him to be

a captive taken at eleven years from the Croats, explained that

his family had journeyed to the city to see him and had waited

there for years.

"There is no record/' Suleiman pointed out, "of the special

study you have chosen. What is it? You may speak."

"My masters," replied the boy impassively.

It could not have been impertinence because he was speak

ing before the face of his Sultan. It might then be the simple

truth.

"Why?" Suleiman asked curiously.

The boy's gray eyes lifted, restlessly. "Because I do not under

stand them."

For that answer he might have been sent from the School

to serve as a gardener or a barge rower. Suleiman wondered if

this outspoken boy from the northern mountains did not find it

necessary to grasp the purpose of his tutors before he would

serve them. He dismissed Sokolli, and told Piri Pasha to have

the School offer no more rewards to the student but to allow

him to do as he wished, including visiting his family.

Later, after Sokolli had graduated, he asked what post had

been given him in the Organization. He learned that the Croat

had been appointed assistant to the Judge of the Army of

Europe a post high in the scale, with a good salary.

Years afterward, when Suleiman's personal influence had

wrought change in the Organization, Ogier Busbecq, an

acute observer from Europe, made this comment: "The Turks

rejoice greatly when they find an exceptional man. It is as if

they had gained a precious object, and they spare no labor in

cultivating him especially if they notice that he is fitted for

war. Our way of doing is very different; for if we find a good

dog, hawk or horse, we are greatly delighted and we spare no

effort to make it the best of its kind. But if a man happens to

possess an extraordinary disposition, we do not take such pains

[with him]. Nor do we think that his education is especially our

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

affair. We get much pleasure and service from the well-trained

horse, dog, and hawk but the Turks much more from a well-

educated man/ 7

Naturally other residents of the Magnifica Comunita were

sorely puzzled by the anomaly of the School. They could not

understand why the all-powerful Turks allowed themselves to

be governed by foreign boys. When they asked the question of

Turkish-born acquaintances, they were answered: "Because

the Sultan's kullar are better able to do it than we are." When

they asked if such'boys, captive and Christian for the most part,

could be trusted, they were assured "Have you ever heard of

one of them who betrayed us?"

Only a very few of these foreign residents across the Golden

Horn who had come thither to -bargain for concessions in the

rich oriental trade realized the truth. The graduates of the

School were the best-educated group in the Osmanli dominion.

They were better trained than western students in the universi

ties of Paris or Bologna, at that time. And in Suleiman they had

a leader capable of using their minds to greater effect than the

steel tempered into swords at the Arsenal,

When the snow melted and jasmine bloom touched the gar

dens with white in the spring, in the year 1522, Luigi Gritti

called Marco Memmo's attention to the youths riding out upon

the fields of sport across the water. Over there, he said, was

nurtured the greatest peril to the Christian Commonwealth.

"Nimble and gay," he nodded, "yet they pray; they read their

prayers, yet they study the books of the new learning. With

what weapon are you going to stop the career of such young

lings?'

Messer Marco felt convinced that the bastard was becoming

a renegade. His distrust of the gibing Gritti was heightened by

realization that he himself served as little more than a spy here

in Galata, while Gritti had a way of proving himself right in his

prognostications about the infidel Turks. "By the lion of San

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Marco/* lie retorted, "I see nothing fearsome in these mammets

and their mummeries! Nor do I hold in regard any such learn

ing, which smells of the arts of Paracelsian physicians! If you

had the eyes of a true Venetian you would take heed of what is

being launched upon the water beneath us. There lies the

danger we must reckon with/'

Along the docks of the Arsenal storeships and transport gal

leons were moored with the new galleys. Shipping of all sorts

crowded the Golden Horn. Memmo, experienced in such mat

ters, pointed out barges decked with planking heavy enough

to hold cannon that fired huge balls, ten hands' lengths around.

Whither was this new armada bound?

Reports from Venice and Vienna both had it that the Turkish

army of invasion would move north again, through the Danube

gateway that had been opened the year before. But Memmo

could not believe that such heavy sailing galleons as these were

bound for the river run up the Danube. No, they must be bound

for the open sea. Yet not for forty years had the Turks ventured

thither

The riddle nagged at him, because Venice itself lay within

easy sail up the Adriatic that had been until now a Venetian

lake.

"Has Your Excellency forgotten," Gritti asked provokingly,

"the treaty of accord and friendship Suleiman signed with you

last autumn?" It amused him that Memmo bewildered his brain

about the armament of a fleet instead of the purpose of Sulei

man, who would direct it.

Memmo spat in voiceless anger. He ejaculated that such

a treaty often served as a screen for an invasion.

"But not by the Turks. Not by Suleiman, I think." Carefully

Gritti pondered. "I heard-there is a certain secretary of the

Divan who owes money to an Armenian goldsmith who has a

woman, a spice seller in the Covered Market. She whispered to

me that the Sultan could not agree with the Vizir and the com

manders of the army as to what they would do next."

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

"Bazaar talk! Dust in our eyesl They have agreed well

enough, the Sultan and his Divan." In his turn Memmo medi

tated, "My eyes tell me they will take their armed host

some-whither by sea. The moment favors it. The Holy Roman

Emperor and his warcraft of Spain are engaged in conflict"

bitterness crept into his voice "with the Most Christian King of

France. Only the fleet of our republic stands in the way of the

Turks."

"Only" suddenly Gritti laughed "But does it? To enjoy your

trade with the Turks, you must keep the peace. Your Excel

lency's hand signed the new treaty. Will you hold to it?"

Thoughtfully, Memmo nodded. "By all the Archangels!"

"Ecco? said Gritti, "they have opened the way to Rhodes,"

Rhodes

Everything about the island of Rhodes was strange. It lay,

for instance, within easy sight of the Turkish mainland. A little

south of the coast where Suleiman had lived two years before,

this large island rose from the tranquil sea like a citadel within

its ring of smaller hilly islands. It had a strange aspect a hard

gray northern citadel in a semitropical sea.

The Knights of Rhodes held it. And they were themselves

a remarkable anachronism. They were the belligerent ghosts of

all but forgotten crusaders. As the Order of the Brotherhood

of the Hospital of St. John the Baptist in Jerusalem they had

once played their part in the Holy Land, which was now within

Suleiman's dominion. Retreating thence to the nearest island,

Cyprus, they had retreated again, northerly, to Rhodes. Within

their heavily fortified city they still had a hospital but they were

no longer called Hospitalers. The Turks, who respected them

for their hardihood, called them, collectively, the Religion, and

their citadel the Stronghold of the Hellhounds.

Being at such a great distance from their native Europe, the

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Knights perforce raided and traded for supplies along the ad

jacent Turkish mainland; their fast galleys went out against the

grain ships coming from Egypt. Then, too, being by now a

political entity with their commanderies scattered through

Europe-the Knights had made war or treaties with their late

rivals the Templars, and with Genoa. Altogether these sur

vivors of the crusades had displayed more hatred than good will

toward each other.

In Rhodes itself a remarkable state of affairs prevailed. On

the broad Street of the Knights separate chapter halls housed

the Knights, with different shields of arms over the massive

doorways, shields of now vanished Aragon and Provence as well

as new nationalities such as France and England. Within these

very comfortable hostels the Knights and men-at-arms spoke

the "Tongues" of ancient days. The Portuguese, being new

comers, had been shoved in the house of an older Tongue,

Their leader was a figure two centuries behind his time a

white-bearded Frenchman whose portraits show him in full

plate armor, a banner in one gauntleted handthe Grand Mas

ter, Philippe Villiers de Lisle Adam. Between the old De Lisle

Adam and the youthful Suleiman there lay the cleavage of time,

and of religion. Each stood for an idea and a way of life. But the

obdurate Frenchman was also a skilled soldier: Suleiman was

hardly that.

Suleiman in his summons to the master of the Knights offered

more than terms of surrender. If the Grand Master yielded the

rule of the island to Suleiman, he and his people could remain

as they were, with freedom to practice their religion, or they

could evacuate with their arms and possessions, being ferried

where they chose to go in Turkish ships. The reply of De Lisle

Adam, of course, was only routine. He would not surrender.

It was odd that the young Sultan of the Osmanlis should have

set his mind on this island of the sea, troublesome though it

might be. The dominion of the Turks had expanded over the

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

land. Still, lie had spent most of his life along the coasts,

whether on the Crimea or Magnisiya. And Constantinople it

self lay between the waterways of two continents. Whether he

had pondered the strategic possibilities of the sea or not, he had

a fondness for it. Moreover, there was an old score to settle with

the Knights. In his last years, Suleiman's great-grandfather, the

Conqueror, had attempted to wrest this island from them and

had failed.

Suleiman's Vizir, Piri Pasha, argued against the expedition.

It would be dangerous to move the field army and the Sul

tan to an island where both could be cut off. The strength

of the army lay in its horsemen, who would be at a great dis

advantage against walls on an island. Whereas they could break

through the Danube gateway with little risk and a secure re

treat behind them. Moreover, Piri Pasha distrusted (and, as the

event proved, rightly) the information of the Jewish physician

arrived from Rhodes that the city of the Knights lacked ade

quate supplies and was commanded by an old man newly out

from France.

Piri Pasha did not mention what he most feared, Suleiman's

lack of experience.

Unmistakably at this point Suleiman took active command

of the armed forces, overruling Piri Pasha and ordering the

expedition to set out by sea and land. He went himself with

the Asiatic mobilization, down the coast to a harbor opposite

Rhodes, where transports waited. Somewhere along die line

there had been delays. And Suleiman gave evidence of the tem

per that he held in restraint. In his diary he noted that they

made four of the last stages in two days; the day after the lead

ing column reached the shore it began to embark, which was

quite a feat in itself, Still, Suleiman's portion of the army did

not land on Rhodes until July 28 late in the summer. The other

commanders had occupied the island, protected by the battle

fleet of galleys, landing stores and heavy artillery and 10,000

troops, the month before.

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When Suleiman reached the quarters prepared for him on a

height opposite the walls, that same twenty-eighth of July,

the guns opened up. Evidently he had assumed full responsi

bility.

And at once the results proved to be discouraging. Sulei

man's laconic diary reveals how the return fire of the city for

tress flattened down the advanced trenches; counterattacks

swept over Piri Pasha's batteries, putting them out of action for

weeks.

"The Sultan changes the position of his camp," the diary re

cords, "to be nearer. Heavy bombardment silences the guns of

the city."

(The defenders have taken to bombproof shelters.)

"A shelter of tree branches is put up for the Sultan, so that tie

can direct the movements of his forces better."

(Something unexpected is happening. The diary lists too

many high officers as casualties.)

"The commander of the cannon is killed . . . the chiefs of

the firelock men and of the cannoneers, wounded."

Weeks pass, and the walls of Rhodes appear as impregnable

as before. The Tongues of the knighthood of Europe are speak

ing with unmistakable meaning.

The fortifications of Rhodes had been designed in a new man

ner, and were probably the strongest in Europe at the time. In

stead of the plain curtain wall with corner towers of the early

days of gunpowder, the Knights had constructed low-lying but

deep works of massive cemented stone. These had projecting

bastions thrust forward into the plain. Fire from the bastions

swept the front of the main ramparts.

Inside this vast structure of masonry, corridors and shelters

permitted the defenders to move safely from point to point.

Half of the Stronghold of the Hellhounds fronted the sea. Out

from it two moles, ending in towers, formed the breakwaters

of the small harbor. On the side toward the sea, Rhodes could

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

not be attacked. And aid from the sea might reach the city by

way of the protected harbor. So narrow was the water entrance

that a chain could be drawn across it.

Within the walls Rhodes had been built by the Knights to be

a true citadel of massive stonework, from the house of the

Grand Master to the cathedral of St. John, and the hospital.

There were no ramshackle rows of wooden dwellings to burn,

or flimsy roofs to give way under the dropping fire of mortars.

In their siege trenches, pushed at great cost close to the walls,

the Turks had such mortars; they had long iron cannon capable

of smashing down the older type of high encircling walls; they

Lad brass siege pieces sunk into the ground, firing huge balls

and newly designed explosive shells at a high angle, to fall in

side the city; they had light sakers that could be carried for

ward in the rush of an attack, and set up on temporary positions.

Even such siege batteries as these could not breach the new

defenses of the Knights. In the long duel between firepower and

fortification, now just beginning, the ramparts of Rhodes had a

decisive advantage. In proof, they are still standing, repaired

but unchanged, as the Knights designed them, to make their

island invulnerable.

Among the men of the Tongues, moreover, there was an

Italian engineer, Gabriel Martinengo, who handled guns with

loving skill. Martinengo had spotted the ranges for his cannon

to all points outside the walls.

Defeated in their efforts aboveground, the Turkish engineers

went underground, pushing mines laboriously through the

stony earth, to blow up the walls. Martinengo devised mine de

tectors out of the upper halves of drums set a little into the

earth so that the vibration of digging beneath sounded in the

drumhead. Other devices met the attackers in their tunnels and

in their rush aboveground after the explosion of a mine,

miners meet with the enemy," Suleiman's diary relates,

"who use a great quantity of [flaming] naphtha, without

success. . . .

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"The troops penetrate inside the f ortress, but are driven out

with heavy loss by the use the infidels make of a new kind of

catapult. . . .

"Some Circassians break in, carrying off four or five banners

and a great plank that the enemy had filled with metal hooks to

tear the feet of the besiegers. . . ."

No real break can be made in the defenses; the human tides

sent against the openings are driven back and down; all the

batteries open at once against the fronts of the Tongues of

Auvergne, of Spain and England and Provence, against the bas

tion of St. George, the Tower of Spain, the gates of St. Mary

and St. John. The guns cannot reach the human defenders, nor

break down the stubbornness of old De I/Isle Adam, or the

genius of Martinengo.

August has passed and September is ending. Suleiman ven

tures to order a desperate measure, an attack at all points. The

evening before this, messengers go through the encampment,

calling out, "The earth and the stonework above the ground

only will be the Sultan's; the blood of the people inside and the

plunder will be yours."

The general attack fails.

Suleiman cannot understand this failure of his armed forces

to penetrate a rubble of stonework held by no more than a

tenth of his strength, in numbers. His temper flares in the

council of the army leaders.

September 26. "Council. The Sultan in his anger puts Ayas

Pasha under arrest."

(Ayas Pasha, a single-minded Albanian, had pressed his

attack all day against the fronts of Auvergne and the Germans,

and had suffered the greatest losses. )

September 27. "Council. Ayas Pasha is restored to duty!'

(Not only that, the steadfast Albanian soldier is given rein

forcements from Piri Pasha s lines. Piri Pasha, ill with gout and

wearied, has no mind to continue the battle.)

Unmistakably Suleiman himself is suffering. He has given

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

orders that cannot be carried out. Wherever he rides now

through the lines the men watch expectantly, waiting for him

to order the withdrawal from Khodes to the mainland.

Most of all the unarmed peasants suffer, who have dug the

siegeworks under the diabolical blasting of guns above their

heads. They have gone with little food, and lie sick and shiver

ing under the lash of the autumn rains. For one man who dies in

the trenches another dies in the lines from sickness. It is time

for these peasants to be marched homeward, to get in the last

of the crops ... the useless horses of the army are dying off

from lack of grazing.

Moreover, by now the survivors are endangered. Too much

time has gone by. Scout vessels bring in tidings of a Venetian

fleet gathering off Crete. Relief from Europe can be expected

any day. And Suleiman might be cut off on the island where he

could not feed his army.

True, commanders like Ayas Pasha and the Slav, Ferhad

Pasha, think only of new attacks, of the hideous throwing of

human beings against broken stones and exploding guns. But

Suleiman realizes his own mistakes too clearly. Grim Sultan

Selim would never have been caught sitting helplessly in a tent

of tree branches in the rain, on an island. Selim understood the

insatiability of war; how you must trick war by marching

swiftly, striking with terror, and passing on never staying,

never letting yourself be caught and held to face merciless war

itself. . . .

The diary tells that Suleiman rode off in intervals of quiet to

visit garden spots, bare in the autumn storms. He went off to

the ruins of ancient Rhodes where the sea longs of long ago had

their dwellings. These ruins he ordered restored, to make winter

quarters for die army. At such times, watching the work in the

gardens and the ruins, he could escape for a little from the

thudding of the guns and the haggard faces of his men.

He ordered fresh supplies to be ferried from Egypt, and the

garrisons of janizaris posted in Anatolia to be brought out to

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the island. To show his men that he meant to stay, he moved

from his makeshift tent into a stone house.

Word went through the huts of the army: "The Sultan will

not retreat."

Of all the alternatives he might pursue, retreat was the worst.

That would mean the slaughter of thousands of his followers

had been uselessa foolish mistake made by a Suleiman who

did not know how to lead in warfare.

October passed. Suleiman allowed no more general attacks.

When even the janizaris began to gather in groups and com

plain, he ordered the supporting fleet to leave the island anchor

ages and take shelter in the mainland, thus ending the possi

bility of retreat.

The Surrender

November went by. Suleiman chose to outlast the enemy, re

lying on the weariness bred by time itself, protecting his forces

as best he could contrive, relying on intermittent gunfire and

mining, pressing forward at night for gains of a few yards into

the labyrinth of stonework.

The first day of December he made use of a new weapon.

An unarmed man, making his way into the Stronghold, told the

Christians that the Sultan would end the siege by granting the

terms he had offered beforehand: the Religion and the towns

people could leave or stay, with their liberty, their arms and

wealth untouched. This was no official offer, only a report

passed in, but it spread through all the households of Rhodes.

It had an unexpected impact, psychologically, upon the badly

exhausted defenders.

"This device served the enemy to greater purpose than any

thing he had done before," Richard Knolles, a chronicler of the

later Elizabethan age, relates. "The enemy . . . little by little

creeping on further, drove the defenders to such extremity that

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

they were glad to pull down many of their houses, therewith to

make new fortifications, and to make their city less by casting

up of new trenches, so that in a short time . . . they could not

well tell which place to fortify first, the enemy was now so far

crept within- them. For the ground which the enemy had now

gained within the city was almost 200 paces in breadth, and 150

paces in length.

"Solyman . . . persuaded that nothing was better than clem

ency, commanded Piri, the old Pasha, to prove if the Rhodians

might by parley be drawn to yield their city upon reasonable

conditions. . . . Many, who in time of the assault feared not

any danger but were altogether become desperate and careless

of themselves, after they had understood that the enemy offered

parley, they began to conceive some hope of life. Resorting unto

the Grand Master, they requested him that he would provide

for the safety of his people, whose warlike forces were weak

ened, and the city beaten down about their ears/'

Not only that: the long ordeal and the hand-to-hand struggle

for street corners and parapet crests had embittered men chilled

by winter frosts. De Lisle Adam and his surviving officers-

only 180 Knights remained on their feet, to lead 1500 men-at-

arms and Greeks of the town could expect merciless killing

when the crippled Turkish forces broke through the last bar

riers. They had hoped for relief from Europe. They had sent out

messengers in the first days to urge that, with fresh troops and

powder, the walls of Rhodes could be held.

"The Grand Master," Richard Knolles sums up, "sent one of

the knights of the Order into Spain, to Charles the Emperor,

and another of the Order also to Rome to the Cardinals and

Italian Knights, and from thence into France unto the French

king with letters: craving the aid of the Christian princes for

relief of the city by land and sea besieged. But all in vain, for

they, carried away by the endless grudge of one against another,

or respecting only their own states, returned the ambassadors

with good words but no relief."

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De Lisle Adam had a bitter choice to make. By his own code

there was no surrender. No one around him had confidence that

the Sultan would keep his promised terms. On the other hand,

resistance would sacrifice thousands of the townspeople, Greek

Christians, who were breaking down under the ordeal.

He asked for a three days' truce and got it. Then happened

one of those mischances that act as a match to powder in hours

of tension. A ship came in by night, showing no lights. It was

the first from Crete, and proved to be a wine ship carrying no

more than a hundred volunteers who had sailed against the

orders of the Venetian Signory. Turkish observers naturally

thought that the relief ship carried more than it did, breaking

the truce by its arrival.

Then a die-hard Frenchman discharged two camion into a

crowd of janizaris who had come up during the truce to stare

at the walls. The result was a wild attack by the Turks on that

section of the walls.

At the end of it, Rhodes still stood. The Grand Master took

the testimony of Gabriel Martinengo, who had headed the

defense. Martinengo summed up the situation: they had twelve

hours* supply of powder, and the powder mill at the harbor

could no longer keep up that much reserve; they had combat

ants enough to hold only portions of the walls; a general attack

for more than twelve hours would be the end of the defense.

De Lisle Adam heard his engineer's testimony and took the

vote of his officers and the burghers of the town. It was for sur

render, and he agreed. He sent out an envoy and the siege was

over.

Then happened something unexpected. Suleiman reaffirmed

his old terms, explaining carefully that the churches of the

townspeople would not be commandeered as mosques; the

people themselves would not be pressed to turn Moslem; their

children would not be taken. Those who decided to leave might

carry the cannon with them, and all their property if they

wished; Turkish ships would transport them to Crete.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

This the Knights could hardly believe. When unarmed jani

zaris rioted inside a gate these were the reinforcements from

the mainland, angered by the command against plundering

De Lisle Adam went out with one companion through the rain

to the Sultan's house. The two leaders met-the soldier of the

west, and the new emperor of the east. Suleiman gave the

Grand Master a robe of honor, remarking to Ibrahim, who was

with him, "It is a pity that this fine old man should be made to

leave his home."

He sent janizaris of his guard to stop the rioting. More than

that, he made an effort to retrieve something from the devasta

tion of the last five months. As if calling on a friend, he re

turned the visit of his enemy.

It broke all precedent, for. a reigning monarch of the Orient

to venture into the armed lines of the Christians. In doing so

he had only the Grand Master's word to protect him. When

Suleiman rode through a demolished gate without a following

except for one of the pashas and Ibrahim to interpret, he took

a step toward a better understanding with his hereditary foes.

Dismounting in the courtyard of De L/Isle Adam, he ap

proached the amazed Knights on foot, explaining that he had

come to ask after the health of their venerable master. Against

the hard gray of the massive doorway the slender youth in white

and gold appeared friendly and gay. For the first time the anx

ious Christians understood that he meant to keep his word as to

the terms of surrender.

Later when a guard of janizaris marched in, the Knights had

another moment of surprise. One said, "They came silent, mov

ing as one man without a word spoken."

It softened the tight bitterness of the soldierly Grand Mas

ter, who is reported to have said, "You are worthy of praise be

cause you vanquished Rhodes, and showed mercy."

The evacuation was carried out as agreed. When the surviv

ing Knights were landed safely at Crete, they found the Vene

tian battle fleet immobilized there, with orders to take no action

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unless the Turks should threaten Cyprus. T\vo thousand re

cruits had been gathered at Rome, to relieve Rhodes, but no

shipping had been available to them.

The Emperor, Charles, dismissed the loss of the island with

casual irony. "Nothing in the world," he said, "has been so well

lost as Rhodes."

He was wrong. Until then there had been at least the pretense

that Europeans could unite in a crusade, at need. There had

been the sense that, in spite of its internal conflicts, Christian

Europe made a whole of some sort. After Rhodes had been left

to surrender, and the wounded Knights to be shipped back care

fully by the Sultan, that semblance of unity became a wraith of

the past with the memory of the Caesars of Rome and Charle

magne.

For years the surviving Knights wandered haphazard around

the Mediterranean shores, visiting courts that listened indif

ferently to their demand for a new stronghold. These veterans

of a remote battle were really something of a nuisance. Mon-

archs who entertained them perforce wearied of hearing how

Rhodes had been held for five months against fourteen attacks.

These wounded men brought the bastion of St. George with

them everywhere.

After seven years Charles granted them the rocky inhos

pitable island of Malta lying far to the west in the narrow gut

of the sea between his own Sicily and the African coast.

Meanwhile at Rhodes, the Turks had gained their first base

upon the sea.

The Cost of the Capture of Rhodes

The Sultan had departed from Rhodes as soon as the Knights

had been shipped off and the necessary orders given. He had

not questioned the efficient Martinengo, or made an examina

tion of the formidable defenses. He was anxious only to leave

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the place, and he never returned within sight of it again. Char

acteristically, he made time to reward some Greek women,

expert swimmers, who had given aid by carrying messages to

and from the city.

Strangely enough in European opinion most of the Greek

citizens elected to remain in their homes under Turkish rule.

They had not found service to the feudal-minded Knights to

be an easy one. Under the Turks they had freedom from taxa

tion for five years, and after that only the yearly house tax of

ten pieces of silver to pay. No demands were made on them for

cattle or wine, and their daughters were not molested.

At Constantinople Memmo waited upon the Sultan, to con

gratulate him. For Memmo, mouthing praise of the Turkish vic

tory, Suleiman felt only contempt. Memmo was lying, fluently

and obsequiously. It amused Suleiman to hear the lies so deftly

phrased as Ibrahim translated them impassively and it flat

tered his inward pride to have the envoy of a once powerful

European state render lip service to his achievement. But he

had a faint physical dislike of Memmo, who gorged his body

with meat and soaked up wine.

For his antagonist, the Grand Master, Suleiman had felt real

pity and involuntary respect. The white-bearded man had been

loyal to a religion and a code. The religion, of course, had been

that of the Evangel, not the Koran. But the important thing was

that the old man believed in his religion.

Long ago Kasim had taught Suleiman that there were only

three true believers, the three Peoples of the Book-the eldest in

time being the Jews, who held to the ancient Torah, the next

being the Christians, who held to the Evangel, and the latest

being the Mwslimin (Moslems) of the Koran. All had Prophets

of their faith, whether Moses or Abraham, Jesus or Muhammad.

Suleiman was terribly earnest about inward conviction. He

could not be sure-in spite of the arguments of the imams-that

a Moslem who gave only lip service to his religion was equal in

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the scales of judgment to a Christian who lived by the word of

his religion.

So in this moment of apparent triumph we find Suleiman to

be a man rigid in keeping his word, sensitive in his judgments,

susceptible only to flattery that touched his pride, and groping

confusedly toward a concept of brotherhood among peoples.

The notion of a brotherhood was not his own. He had grown

up solitary, as the son of Selim, yet in touch with two very active

brotherhoods. Both the Mevlevi and the Bektashi dervishes

wandered by him, some merry with their token begging bowls,

some withdrawn from ordinary life, the hermits of the moun

tains. They had active minds; they laughed and mocked and

again they wept over the ills they beheld along the roads. "We

cannot be counted by numbering," they said. "We cannot be

ended by defeat."

Even the yuldashlar of the janizaris in their barracks had

formed a rude brotherhood. You could not harm one janizary

without having to deal with his comrades. If you aided one of

those Young Troopers, you had the gratitude of the others. So,

in a sense perfectly comprehended by Suleiman, the Grand

Master had been the head of a brotherhood.

Often Suleiman wondered about the Pope in Rome. As the

head of a Christian brotherhood the Pope was understandable,

as was the Sheyk of Islam (the Mufti). In fact most Turks felt

awe of the solitary man who served a great religion. But as the

head of a political power, pent up in the enclosure of the

Vatican, the Pope was not so easily understood.

Suleiman had known intimately the ties of loyalty, the bonds

of belief, the needs of common folk, and their vagrant impulses

toward something better. He had no acquaintance with nation

ality as such, or with the European courts that dominated the

nations there, or with the class of nobility except for the Vene

tian ambassadorsthat in turn dominated the courts.

At that time he was groping his way toward a new under

standing between rulers. If rulers served their different peoples,

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

and if there could be friendship between rulers, why then the

ordeal of ordinary living might go better among the peoples

than it had gone, for instance, under the Yavuz Sultan.

If there could be a new bond, simply of friendship . . .

Diffidently he confided this thought to Ibrahim. He never

could find the eloquent words to express a thought; nor could

he make a speech. And after Rhodes he had a definite plan for

Ibrahim. Partly because of that and partly being oriental in

his thinkingbecause he wished to test the self-sure Greek on

this point, he put his thought into a question. Could there be

actual friendship among rulers, as between ordinary men?

He got his answer immediately. Ibrahim was amused. "Cer

tainly the Lord of the Two Worlds can have friendship for the

asking. At a fine feast, all the guests will be fast friends indeed

of the host. But a beggar is another matter."

Carefully Suleiman pondered this, disregarding Ibrahim's

habitual mockery, detecting a certain defiance in his friend. The

gifted Ibrahim could never forget that he was passing his life

in service to a more stupid Turk. This instinctive resentment he

concealed carefully.

"Actually," he added quickly, "you can accomplish much by

that more perhaps than the Conqueror ever did. For one thing,

you might manage to disarm your enemies while increasing the

loyalty of those who believe as you do. It would be something

new in the world to use peace as a weapon. Only a very strong

ruler could do that. Imagine how you would confuse Memmo

if you held out the hand of friendship to him." He smiled,

pleased. "I would like to be there to see his face. Why, diplo

mats would soon have to take to begging bowls, and dervishes

would sit in council!"

Suleiman pictured that in his mind and smiled. "I would

like to be there to see that."

Immediately Ibrahim foresaw real benefits to be gleaned

from his masters visionary idea. The Venetians would gain

favor as being the first friends of the Turks; and the Venetian

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fleet was worth having. The Greek minority would have more

privileges and Ibrahim was a Greek. Beyond that, a new

entente could be set up in southeastern Europe, around the

House of Osman, a group of peoples declaring for peace. How

much he, Ibrahim, would enjoy balancing such a league of

peaceful warriors against the dominion of the Emperor of the

House of Hapsburg, who ruled warlike civilians.

Even beyond that Ibrahim's clairvoyant mind caught at re

mote possibilities Suleiman's new idea might appeal to some

of the oppressed European rayat, the common folk, the peas

antry. And if the Turks could be persuaded to put aside

weapons for a generation or two, they might be seriously weak

ened. They had a saying: Take arms from a people? and strength

will leave them.

Then bitterness returned. Only a Suleiman, with an invincible

army at call, could pose as a humanist in this time of strife.

Yet Suleiman was earnest in his groping. The siege of Rhodes

had left its indelible impression on him.

The exultant acclamation of his city had surprised Suleiman

at his return. When he rode for the first time out the Great

Gate, to go to the mosque on Friday, masses of people lined the

way that had been swept and sanded before him. The four

pashas rode before him, in their fur-edged kaftans. Behind him

trotted Ibrahim and the weapon-bearers, stiff in white satin

and gold. Beside him ran the archers of his guard, like watchful

hounds.

The people of the streets strained to catch sight of him as he

sped by. They threw precious flowers, they knelt to pick up the

sand the hoofs of his white pacer had trod. And always they

murmured his name, and the word "Fortunate."

Fortune had followed him like the benevolent unseen angel

upon his right hand. The fall of Rhodes. A boy child born to

Gulbehar. Islands of the sea and fortresses of far lands submit

ting, after Rhodes. Messages of congratulation, not only from

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Venice but from the Sherif of Mecca, the Tatar Khan of the

Crimea, and, beyond expectation, the first envoys from his most

bitter enemy Ismail the Shah-in-shah of Persia, and from an al

most unknown city, Moscow. . . .

Yet when the ride ended and he knelt on his half balcony in

the obscurity of the mosque, he smelled the mud of the earth

works, and die stench of sick men lying on the wet ground of

Rhodes. He felt the sweat chill upon his own body as he turned

and twisted under brocade and fur coverlets through the hours

of darkness, hearing the drip of water from the branches of his

hut to which he had clung stubbornly, torturing himself, alone,

for his mistakes and his helplessness before Rhodes.

He had not spoken about that. For one thing, the Osmanli

Sultan could not well explain his misgivings or his hopes; for

another, Suleiman found it hard to explain anything. In his

laconic diary he wrote a customary phrase God gave the vic

tory to the Padishah (the Emperor). Yet in his diary after

Rhodes he made constant note of rain, of storms, of animals and

men caught in the mud, sickening of rivers flooding, and of

rain, rain, and rain. It became almost an obsession.

His revulsion against waging war after that showed in his

acts. Next spring the drum of conquest did not beat; there was

no campaign for three years. This was the first respite in the

fourteen years since Selin had taken the Osmanli sword.

The Osmanli sultans had the duty of using that sword. Be

yond their dominion of peace lay the Lands of War the pagan

lands against which the Moslem arms must be led. From the

time of Ertoghrul this duty had been carried out, except during

brief years of the rule of his grandfather, Bayazid, the recluse

and dreamer. In putting a stop to the outward march of con

quest, Suleiman was violating old custom. He had no way of

knowing what the consequences would be.

At the same time he acted even more radically in changing

his helpers. He rid himself of what might be called the old army

type. In Suleiman's case this meant more than if a European

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monarch, Henry VIII for example, had dismissed his ministers,

For under the Osmanlis, the different heads of the Organization

had direct responsibility for what went on beneath them, The

ailing Piri Pasha held the imperial seal and was in very truth the

bearer of the burden of administration.

When Suleiman informed Piri Pasha that he would be re

lieved of duty and could retire, the lined face of the old man

sagged in weariness. He did not seem to understand that he

had committed no fault. Instead he muttered as if to justify

himself that he was raising a new blood-hued variety of tulip.

Suleiman had heard of horses so accustomed to the traces

that they pushed against the pasture fence when a wagon train

creaked by. "You can raise the new species now, Piri Pasha/'

he said. "On my head, your hours are your own."

When he mentioned the enormous pension of two hundred

thousand aspers to be paid the retired Vizir, Piri Pasha only ex

pressed gratitude for the kindness shown by his Sultan. The

money had little meaning, else, to him now.

Although they had expected it, the leaders of the Organiza

tion felt bewilderment when Suleiman named Ibrahim First

Vizir of the empire. The Greek had been advanced over the

heads of experienced officers his seniors. Besides that, Ibrahim

was to have the military rank of Beylerbey of Roumelia Com

mander of the Army of Europe. This gave him responsibility as

great as his authority. (The two other pashas were veteran

Albanians, inarticulate, fond of sleeping between campaigns

in the field. )

Before then, they had talked it over together. At first Ibrahim

had been reluctant to accept the exalted rank. His quick mind

seized on the innumerable dangers to him, of misunderstanding,

of whispering campaigns by those who envied him. Remember

ing Selim, he was afraid of the repressed moodiness of Sulei

man. But Suleiman had thought it through carefully and he was

obdurate. He wanted the Greek to act not as a servant but as

the man he was, brilliantly able to disentangle the complexities

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

of ruling; he wanted genius, not a routine mind. It was without

precedent, for both Sultan and Vizir to be so young, but was

that in any way a bad thing?

Still distrustful, Ibrahim exacted a promise from his master,

and Suleiman gave it "I will never dismiss you, in disgrace,

from office."

To that promise the new Bearer of the Burden could hold

confidently. Suleiman was incapable of breaking his word.

On his part, it is clear that the Sultan meant what he said.

His alter ego could carry on the outward task of government,

counseled, restrained and urged on by Suleiman, who craved

seclusion. It was a daring experiment, to single out an obscure

foreign-born graduate of the School, the best mind in his

dominion. But Suleiman was an astute judge of character.

Having named Ibrahim, he went to great pains to publicize

his choice. Ibrahim was to have twelve rowers in his service

barge, five horsetails on the standard carried before him. He

was to marry a sister of the Sultan.

Probably it occurred to neither of them to wonder if other

Osmanlis after them would raise a personal favorite to the high

est authority. Suleiman had been the first to do so.

Very soon, in selecting his own officers, Ibrahim appointed

the useful Luigi Gritti to be Dragoman of the Gate that is ?

liaison officer for foreign affairs. Gritti, of course, was still a

Venetian and a Christian. And Ibrahim was to depend on the

quick-witted Gritti, as Suleiman depended on him.

So, in the years of change-over, 1523-25, Suleiman turned

away from the elder Turkish minds toward the minds of the

west. It was noticed that he began to talk with men of the

European dominion, with Serbs and Croats, in their own lan

guage. As in the case of the graduate, Sokolli, who became as

sistant to Iskander Chelebi, the Treasurer.

When the Mufti died and not even Suleiman could have

dismissed the head of Islam Kemal, a philosopher and a great

legalist, was named in his place. Then, too, Kasim, the former

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tutor of Suleiman, gained office with the title of pasha. These

two men were notable for their intellectual integrity, resting

upon fine scholarship.

Mainstays of the Organization

Upon personal integrity rested also the whole ruling Organi

zation of the Osmanlis. It differed from other governments in

that it remained sharply separated from the rest of the nation,

probably because it was composed of a special class, graduated

from the schools of the tribute children.

Somewhere along the line of their migration, from the Per

sians or the Byzantines, the Turks had picked up the idea that

the household of the ruler must be apart from the government

of the land, and so it was. Suleiman's following, from chief

swordbearer to keeper of his private stable, had no other duty

than to attend him.

That left the management of affairs squarely upon the shoul

ders of the three vizirs, or ministers. They, in turn, headed the

Divan or council. This sat in the Hall of Audience and heard all

who came thither with business for the government. Such hear

ings went with speed and few words, as in the old days when

they were held on horseback by the tent of the khan.

Fiscal responsibility lay upon the chief Treasurer, but all

accounts passed through the Kalemi or central clearing bureau.

Secretaries kept the books with rigorous exactitude.

Here another peculiarity of the Osmanlis played its part.

They held to their old idea that the nation must be organized

for war. In consequence, all officers of the Organization also

held rank in the army except for a residue of secretaries who

remained at home to keep the books. And active officers of the

army, like the Agha of Spahis, had beneath them their own team

of treasurer and accountants.

Beyond this central administration of Constantinople, the

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

eight beylerbeys in charge of the divisions of the dominion each

had his own similar administrative personnel, with treasurer

and Kalemi. Farther out in the smaller districts and all through

the provinces, the sanjakbeys had their miniature staffs. Natu

rally, they, too, were part of the national mobilization in time

of war. The Beylerbey of Anatolia headed the levies of Asia.

So it befell that responsibilities were fixed, yet dependent

upon personal integrity in their carrying out. The Beylerbey of

Ajnatolia, receiving a fixed amount of revenue each year, must

produce a certain number of troops fully equipped at demand.

Such officers paid no taxes; they received their support from

the central Treasury, and were not expected to indulge in any

money-making enterprises of their own.

Separated from this dynamic force of the school-bred Organi

zation, the judges of the Law, the graduates of religious schools,

held the balance of juridical power, in accordance with the

Koran. A Venetian bailo, Marcantonio Barbaro, put it rather

quaintly: "As the arms and forces repose altogether in the hands

of those who are all Christian-born, so the carrying out of the

law is altogether in the hands of those who are born Turks."

Within the fabric of this Organization, and subject to the

final judgment of the Law, the inner nationalities, the millets

the Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Bulgars, Circassians and others

held to their own customs, and laws. Non-Moslems paid the

kharaj, or head tax, and attended their own churches.

So long as the officers of the ruling Organization were men

of integrity, this system of interrelated responsibility worked

well. It also presented a rigid framework difficult to change.

And the Turks to a man disliked to forsake their own way of

doing things. In his attempt to alter it, Suleiman could only

rely on changing the basic laws, a slow process, or on appointing

finer minds to administrative posts, a quicker procedure.

He made his most drastic change almost at once when he

increased the power of the First Vizir, who had been little more

than head of the Divan before. Now Ibrahim fairly held the

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reins of government as a sort of prime minister-on-trial. Sulei

man anticipated rightly that Ibrahim on his own account would

bring about great innovations. But he could not have antici

pated the nature of those innovations.

Meanwhile the sole responsibility, from deciding upon the

pension of a keeper of garrison stables in Mosul to the making

of war and peace, rested upon the Sultan himself. While he was

not expected to interfere with routine, he was obliged to take

notice of any dispute, and to act himself immediately in a crisis.

Very naturally most European observers beheld in him a

supreme oriental despot, an Ottoman emperor. Few of them

realized that he was also the head of the most democratic gov

ernment of their time. Or that his authority was limited by the

She'ri, the sacred Law. Suleiman conceded this limitation by

allowing the Mufti unchallenged authority in religion, as he

made over to the Vizir the entire economy of the nation.

Foreign policy which centered in the case of the Osmanli

sultans upon the perennial question of war or peace with the

powers beyond their dominion was to be decided only the

oretically by the old-fashioned Divan. Actually under Suleiman

it was decided by himself, Ibrahim, and the Mufti.

For himself in these first years of his reign Suleiman reserved

an extraordinary authority. He wished to make himself the sole

arbiter of the moral law. What was right and what was wrong

he alone would decide whether a peasant might claim a pass

ing swarm of bees, or an imam might call for prayers at a road

side shrine.

This concept of himself as a monarch without portfolio, a

despot going about with a lantern of Diogenes, was incom

prehensible to Europeans. Yet it was to have great effect upon

the affairs of Europe for forty years. And in the end it was to

compel Suleiman to act as a judge within his own family.

When Suleiman judged the case of Ferhad Pasha, he fairly

startled the foreigners across the Golden Horn. Ferhad Pasha,

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

a Slav from the Dalmatian coast, had become the most dashing

soldier of the army. As Third Vizir he had crushed that early-

revolt in Syria, sending the head of the leader of the revolt,

Ghazali, to the Sultan; he had done much at Belgrade and had

fought savagely at Rhodes. He had been given a sister of Sulei

man in marriage. Yet savagery had been a part of his nature; he

had arrogated power to himself in distant posts and had exe

cuted personal enemies, against the Law, as enemies of the

Osmanli state. Suleiman would have none of a man who used

threats to advance his interests, and Ferhad was dismissed

from his pashalik and recalled.

He had friends who admired him, and one woman who loved

him. Suleiman found that his mother, the Valideh, and his sister

argued Ferhad's case in the harem beyond the corridor. The

influence of the harem, in ways known to women, was exerted

for the accused commander. Suleiman put Ferhad on probation,

sending him to govern a frontier district on the Danube, only

to hear that the soldier abused his power as before. Called again

before Suleiman, he was sentenced within a few moments and

put to death at once by the executioners, who strangled him

with a bowstring.

This death his sister could not forgive Suleiman. Clad in dark

mourning, she confronted him in the harem. "I hope it will not

be long/' she dared to say, "before I wear mourning again, for

my brother."

It was in the Law of the Osmanlis, laid down by the Con

queror, that a man should be slain if by living he endangered

the lives of many others. That was applied even in the case of

the brothers of a prince who became Sultan. To prevent any

civil war in the Osmanli lands, such brothers were sought out

and killed. Mehmed had decreed that it was better for two or

a half dozen, even in the family, to be executed than for civil

war to break out. Suleiman had been fortunate in having no

brothers.

LANDS OF WAR

Appearance of the Laughing One

By then Suleiman had chosen the Laughing One from among

the younger girls of the harem.

She had come from the north, bought from a Tatar dealer. A

slight thing with fair hair, unmistakably a Slav, she had been

given the name of Khurrem, the Laughing One. The Keeper of

the Linen named her that because she had a merry way of sing

ing. She would take a guitar and pick at it and sing, with her

high heels tapping the carpet.

Because Khurrem embroidered swiftly, making odd designs

of crowns and castles, the Keeper of the Linen took her in

charge, paying her slipper money. The Russian girl had her own

way of doing things. From the flame of a lamp with her hands

she could make shadows dance like demons on a screen. After

watching the other novice working girls playing at tossing a

ball, with their legs showing against the sheer white silk of their

trousers, Khurrem joined them, binding her loose hair with a

satin cord since she had no rope of pearls. Her skullcap was blue

velvet, because she had no cloth of gold like the others. When

she sewed the buttons on a tunic of the Valideh, she stared and

laughed on learning they were diamonds, and precious. Such

precious stones, she said, made clumsy buttons. Often when she

laughed like that she was punished by a beating across the back.

But she did not weep like the others. Wiping her eyes, she did

exactly as before, and sfie never forgave those who punished

her.

To Hafiza, the Sultan's mother, who asked about her, the

Keeper of the Linen declared that the Slav girl was clever and

quick and hard as the diamonds she mocked. Hafiza said she

could well believe that, because a foreign girl who had been a

captive and then a slave and then a servant would have a hard

will and a stubborn way. Although Suleiman had been given

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

some of the kerchiefs Khurrem embroidered, he had hardly seen

the girl's face until the time he heard her singing where the

elder women could not hush her. Since he had learned some of

the dialects of the north, he listened to the words of her song

and asked her name.

Then he sometimes stopped to talk with her in outlandish

speech. She laughed merrily when he said the wrong words, but

he showed no anger at that. Not even the Keeper of the Linen

could punish her, now that she was in his eye.

By the law of the harem a young girl in the Sultan's eye was

given a separate sleeping cubicle, with sheer garments, body

servants of her own, and an allowance for pearl and gold orna

ments. She could call for bath masseuses and hairdressers to

come when she wished.

The Laughing One did all that, and set the heel of her slipper

on the foot of the Keeper of the Linen, who no longer had the

right to punish her. The Valideh Hafiza summoned her and

talked to her sternly. The Laughing One stood respectfully with

clasped hands before the Sultan's mother.

Of kte the Sultan had not looked closely at any woman of his

household other than Gulbehar, the kadin or favored girl. It

seemed as if Khurrem amused him with her tricks and out

landish speech. Without warning, in passing her after the sun

set prayer one evening he drew his kerchief over her shoulder

and left it there. Khurrem smiled when she observed that the

kerchief was one she had embroidered. Now it was a sign that

he would sleep with her.

By the law of the harem Gulbehar should have prepared the

Skv girl for her first night with her master. But Gulbehar did

not like the Slav, and would not concern herself with the girl

who had been a Christian.

It had to be done by others, hurriedly the Keeper of the

Baths taking her off, adding perfume to the bath water as it

flowed, summoning slave women for the massage, the nail trim

ming, and anointing. These women whispered that the Russian

LANDS OF WAR

had not the softness of the skin of Gulbehar, or the soft fair

hair. Certainly Khurrem did not wear sheer silk as well. But,

cleverly, she put on few ornaments.

An old Moorish woman of the nursery instructed Khurrem in

the details of approaching her master, how to go past the

guards at the Sultan's inner sleeping room, and to make a half

prostration toward the bed, then to go to the foot and touch the

coverlet to her forehead, to remove all ornaments with her gar

ments and to slip beneath the foot of the coverlet, to draw her

self up beside her master. Then before dawp. the woman of

Africa would come with a lamp to summon the girl back to her

own sleeping niche and to testify that she had lain with the

Sultan.

It was not the only time Suleiman called for her. Whether

she pleased him with her laughing ways, or simply because she

differed so from Gulbehar, the harem slaves did not know. Often

he would summon Khurrem to a meal, and talk with her of the

north and the lands beyond the Danube. In doing so he seemed

to value her as a companion and not simply as a woman to take

pleasure from.

As a recognized kadin, the Slav had an increased allowance;

she could send her attendants for garments or caskets that she

wanted. Not that she cared much for bracelets or jeweled

anklets; when the whim seized her she bought a great many,

and gave them away as quickly.

The Valideh talked with her again, and decided that the girl

pleased the Sultan with the strange guitar music she made. Be

fore then no one had fancied that he liked the playing of music,

except for the songs of the students in the courtyard of the

School. Although he had stopped his horse often to listen to the

bell-staves, flutes and drums of the janizaris.

As a favored kadin, she now had authority. When she told the

Valideh that she was pregnant, that authority increased. Slaves

in trouble sought her protection, and served her in recompense.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Only the Valideh came before her, with Gulbehar, who had

borne the Sultan a son. She was called Second Kadin.

Yet the eyes in the harem noticed-f or they kept careful count

that the Sultan spoke more and more often with this Slav who

had been a captive and then a slave. Gulbehar was First Kadin

in name, and in right. But was she first in reality?

From the chambers of the harem, the gossip ran from the

black eunuchs to the white outer guards, to the buyers of spice

and sugar, to the Covered Market.

For the first time foreign diplomats began to take notice of

the gossip about a woman of the Sultan. Gulbehar's name they

had hardly known; but this was a stranger, this was a new

favorite. When they discovered that she was Russian-born, they

called her Russelanie, or Roxelana.

The First Show at the Hippodrome

His new policy of not going to war made it necessary to stay

at home in the city. Being incapable of halfway measures, Sulei

man tried, to make the city his home, almost as if in escaping

from Rhodes he sought for shelter in Constantinople.

He had always been drawn toward the city, which he under

stood much better than the aged Piri Pasha, who had desired

to avoid it, or Ibrahim, who wanted to use it as a lever to uplift

the outer dominion.

Yet in the city he lived with ghosts. They were very real

ghosts, forever intruding on him, with memories of Byzantium.

The clear water that splashed into his marble bath flowed from

Byzantine cisterns; the very stones of his Serai were the stones

of Byzantine palaces. When he prayed in the vast Aya Sophia

he felt awed by the immensity of the gray, green and purple

marble edifice built by an Augustus Caesar, Justinian. True, the

altar of the Christians had been taken away, and a rather

shoddy mihrab had been set up, cattycorners ? to show the direc-

tion of Mecca; the brilliant mosaic murals of emperors and em

presses had been whitewashed over. Yet it was impossible to

enter the magnificent edifice without sensing that it was still

the basilica of Justinian.

Besides, Turkish architects had copied the Aya Sophia when

they designed the great mosques of the Conqueror, of Bayazid,

and of Selim.

The Turks had captured Constantinople three generations

before but in turn they had yielded to the influence of the queen

city. It was very much like taking a woman captive.

Even when he walked in the seclusion of his private garden

under the tree mesh, Suleiman encountered vine-grown marble

columns that had marked the triumphs of Byzantine emperors.

The sunburned dervishes who chattered to him cheerily about

the Wine of Life might have been the pallid monks who eased

the soul torment of Byzantine autocrats.

When his private barge sped up the cool vista of the Bos-

phorus, Suleiman reclined under the awning of the stern dais

as great ladies of the Byzantine families, the Comneni, the

Ducases, the Porphyrygenitithose "born to the purple" had

lain in the smoke of incense on their gilt speedboats. He had

more than a trace of their blood in him, for Byzantine women

had been given to his ancestors.

And his ancestors had imitated the seclusion of the Byzantine

noblewomen in penning their own households within harems;

they had begun to use castrated black slaves to serve and guard

the inmates of the harem, as the Byzantines had done. The Con

queror especially had found it useful to do as the Byzantines

had done in more ways than one. His School had been modeled

on the palace school of elder Constantinople. His Grand Vizir

had been given the powers of the Grand Domestic of the van

ished emperors.

Yet the need of the Turks in Constantinople was utterly dif

ferent from the need of the kst Byzantine rulers. They had

sought security behind vast walls, creating here the last refuge

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

of a cultured, inbred society, headed often by brilliant women

like Irenewhose church stood by the barracks of the janizaris

and Theodora. Under them the regal city had become half

depopulated, poverty-ridden in the midst of its splendors, drain

ing sustenance from the Anatolian countryside, borrowing

money from its churches to hire barbarian soldiery to defend it.

The Byzantine city lived on because it contrived not to die.

The Turks needed no protection here; they turned the city

into an administrative center of their dominion, a heart from

which the blood could pulse outward through the arteries.

The result was a cosmopolitan city. Almost next door to the

Great Gate (and to Suleiman's stables) the Patriarch of the

Orthodox Church ministered to the Christian Greeks. Across

from Suleiman's Serai, the Magnifica Comunita dealt submis

sively in foreign trade.

When Suleiman rode up toward the new Covered Market he

passed through streets rebuilt although with wood and clay-

by another community, refugee Jews from Spain. They worked

unceasingly at handcraft and shopkeeping, with the Armenians

who came from everywhere to their quarter, and with the Moors

who had also been driven out of Spain. Beyond the Market the

Serbs from Belgrade had built a new community, called Bel

grade. Down along the tideless harbor Berbers from Africa and

the Arabs from the far Red Sea quartered themselves in ware

houses that sheltered their imports of spice, ivory, silk, glass

lamps and even pearls from the east the new luxuries of the

Turks.

So the city was filling up with outland peoples, seeking the

trade of the great Covered Market and the splendor of the

Serai. These newcomers sought to shelter themselves within the

Turkish power the new power rising between the older peoples

of the east and the nations of Europe.

All these foreign communities governed themselves, and

thronged to churches of their own. They paid a yearly tax of a

tenth to the Turkish secretary-treasurers a tax in almost every

LANDS OF WAR

case less than they had paid in their old homes, whether in the

east or the west. They tried their own criminals, except when a

Turk was involved in a case, and even before a Turkish judge

the foreigners could expect a fair and quick decision. Moreover,

like the Venetians, most of them had privileges. The Jews and

Armenians were exempted from the draft of tribute children,

and military service as were the Arabs and Berbers. On the

other hand, no inner nation could possess arms or mount camion

on their ships.

The result was that Suleiman held only ultimate authority

over a dozen different peoples with as many variations of re

ligious belief, who kept their languages and customs intact.

The Osmanlis had never forced those peoples the separate

millets into a Turkish nation, with a single language and re

ligion. The consequences of this variegation were slow in mak

ing themselves apparent, but they were sure.

So Suleiman passed through his city with the wraith of a

Byzantine autocrat accompanying him, unseen. The horsetails

of the standard carried before him had come from the hinter

land of Tsin ( China ) but the gold crescent now displayed above

them had been copied from the Byzantine symbol of the cres

cent moon. Suleiman never beheld it without misgivings. His

Turks had no institutions as yet, like those of China or Byzan

tine; they had no more than the skeleton of their Organization

and the driving wills of their sultans. The sultans before him

had been able to conquer territories and peoples, but what had

they created from their conquest?

Suleiman was the first to take the sword of Osman as an edu

cated man. After Rhodes it became clear to him that the Turks

must abandon the path of war and go forward in a new direc

tion. If they were to follow a new path he himself must lead

them.

His first efforts to do so in the years of decision, 1522-25,

were a bit pathetic. The Mufti counseled him to take money

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

from the Treasury to construct roads and wells, hostels and

mosques for the poorer folk. Was it not written in the Koran

that wealth brought no good unless it was so used?

Summoning young architects, Suleiman tried to explain that

he desired a garden haven for his city, with clear water in it,

The architects brought back to him sketches of gardens copied

from the Serai. He did not want another Serai. So he set them

to work on a new aqueduct to bring fresh water to the city.

They could do that because they could use the old Byzantine

aqueduct as a model. For himself he had a summerhouse built

ty the Sweet Waters of Asia.

Ibrahim counseled him to go about the streets disguised, to

hear the unguarded talk of the workers on the docks and the

veiled women who thronged to the cemeteries on Fridays to

gossip.

That Suleiman would not do. But after he thought it over he

decided to play host to his people. In the spring month of 1524

he held a public festival for nine days in the half -ruined Hippo

drome where the Byzantines had raced their chariots. The

stone obelisk from Egypt still stood there. On the first day he

tried to make a speech when Ayas Pasha and the Agha of the

Janizaris informed him that the festival awaited his word to

begin. He managed to utter some praise of the new Vizir,

Ibrahim, then took refuge in handing out gifts.

Each day he sat patiently on a gold settee beneath the wind-

whipped pavilion, and each day the merrymaking was for a

different group of his people, from the beylerbeys and sanjak-

beys down to the scouts and men of the pen. In the arena be

neath him the sports varied accordingly archery and wrestling

giving way to juggling and racing and reading of poems. As

host Suleiman ordered sherbet and julep to be given by pages

of 'his household to all the watchers. He made gifts of horses

and silver-worked saddles from his private stables. Thousands

of his people lined the rim of the arena and climbed the trees

around it to enjoy the sight of their Sultan in silence. But to

LANDS OF WAR

Suleiman it seemed that this festival in the Hippodrome lacked

gaiety because he had been an unaccustomed host.

At the end of the last day there was merriment enough.

Breaking all precedent, Suleiman went as a simple guest to the

wedding feast of Ibrahim who was taking the Sultan's sister

as bride in the new fine house of the Vizir at the corner of the

Hippodrome, There he was surprised to find the entrance

sheathed on one side in cloth of gold, and silk brocade on the

- other. Gold dishes shone on the supper cloth.

And Ibrahim, drawing them all toward him by the magnetism

of his presence, offered his distinguised guest a sip of julep from

a cup cut from a single turquoise. Ibrahim's dark eyes shone

with joy. When he seated Suleiman he laughed and said, "Your

feast cannot be compared to mine!" "

Surprised, the Sultan looked up at his favorite.

"Because I alone among living men,'* explained Ibrahim,

"have the Lord of the Two Worlds as my guest/*

It was a deft compliment that Suleiman returned very soon

by allowing the Greek to go upon a mission that he himself

should have undertaken, by tradition. In Egypt, always restless

under the Mamelukes whom Yavuz Sultan Selim had allowed

to retain the nominal rule of the land, after he had conquered it

a bad situation had arisen under the government of Ahmed

Pasha, whom Suleiman had dismissed in disgrace from the

siege of Rhodes. Ahmed Pasha, an older man, was also jealous

of the rapid rise of Ibrahim to favor. The fellaheen, accustomed

though they were to oppression, had complained furtively of

exploitation by Ahmed and the Mamelukes. Since the fellaheen

had become Turkish subjects, their grievance must be remedied.

Because the difficult Ahmed might join in rebellion with the

Mamelukes, the situation had to be handled with care and re

straint. By giving Ibrahim an honorary guard of five hundred

janizaris, Suleiman made it evident that his new Vizir carried

with him the full authority of the Sultan.

He himself remained in the city for that third summer with-

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

out a summons to war. It was a happy summer, because during

the festival of Ibrahim's marriage, a son had been born in his

own household to Roxelana (Khurrem). The Russian girl

seemed to have been born herself under fortunate stars because

her first child was a boy. Suleiman gave to the child the name

of Selim, his father.

By becoming a mother, Roxelana gained prestige in the

harem. The Sultan had only one son older than Selim Gul-

behar's boy, Mustafa. There was always the possibility that

Mustafa might die. By that same token Roxelana might become

the Sultan Valideh after Hafiza died. She was still Second

Kadin; Hafiza ruled the women's quarters, and Gulbehar re

mained the mother of the first-born. But Roxelana had now

become a member of the household.

Moreover, with Ibrahim away, Suleiman sought her com

panionship. The servants noticed that he seldom brought gifts

to the favorite. Often he sat with her, talking of weighty matters

as if she had been a man. Since the Russian had come from the

Lands of War, she knew the miseries and the hopes of the out-

landers of the north.

The servants whispered that she must have laid a spell upon

their master. In the very hearth of his home the Sultan had

turned to a Christian-born woman with tawny hair. There

seemed to be no way of breaking his attachment. If it was fated

to be, why then it must be.

The quiet of the city did not last through the winter. Like a

blast of the north wind, the Young Troops broke out in revolt.

Janizaris Overturn Their Kettles

Benedetto Rarnberti wrote of them: "The janizaris number

about twelve thousand, and each of them is paid three to eight

aspers a day. Once a year they are given poor blue cloth for

garments by the Signor. They live in two barracks within Con-

LANDS OF WAR

stantinople. When they take the field every hundred of them

bear along a tent; every three lead a horse with their belongings.

And when they grow too old or displease the Signor, their names

are struck from the book of the janizaris and they are sent off

to be castle guards. In this way none of them suffers hardship,

while those who do great things in war are made governors.

"They come in boyhood to this soldiery. Those chosen are

the healthy ones, strong, and quick above all, and more cruel

than compassionate. They are taught by the older, experienced

ones. In them rests the force and the firmness of the army of

the Turk. Because they all exercise and live together, they be

come as it were a single body, and in truth they are terrible."

In this description of the Italian the germs of revolt by the

Young Troops are evident. Their one garment a year, which

they had to wash themselves; the few cents pay in a day, to buy

their soup and bread; the harsh discipline which kept them

training while pent up in the city these could be balanced

only by the spoil they could snatch in a campaign, or the recog

nition they might win in battle.

For the last three years they had not been led out to war by

the Sultan.

More than that, the veterans among them remembered how

they had been denied the looting of the Stronghold of the Hell

hounds at Rhodes. They all resented the promotion of the

Greek, Ibrahim, from the Enclosed School, over the heads of

veteran pashas. Having too much time to brood in their bar

racks, they imagined how many girls or dinners could be bought

with the twenty-four thousand gold Venetian ducats Ibrahim

got as salary. Beyond the courtyard of the Aya Sofia they could

see Ibrahim's new residence, filled with luxuries, above the

empty Hippodrome.

So long as Suleiman remained in the city they nursed their

grievances. When he went off during the winter breaking

tradition in leaving them merely to hunt at Adrianople, taking

the Divan and higher officers with him, they felt their injuries

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

anew. Ibrahim was off elsewhere at the fleshpots of Egypt.

Weary of cold and inaction, the janizaris at the Serai gate

threw out their soup kettles and took to the streets. Armed

with some firelocks, their slender iron javelins and powerful

bows and sabers, they fired houses for warmth, plundering the

workshops of Jews near the Covered Market, and breaking

into the new palace of Ibrahim Pasha.

At once Suleiman rode south. Instead of venturing through

the rioting to the Serai, he went to the kiosk up the Bosphorus

at the Sweet Waters of Asia.

From the water he made his way with a small escort to the

deserted Hall of Audience near the barracks of the janizaris.

Then he summoned their regimental officers to appear before

"him. A mass of troops pressed in with the first officers. Some

swords were drawn, amid a confusion of voices. There was a

moment of great danger, when the janizaris might have thrown

themselves against the Sultan's escort.

Suleiman drew his sword. He killed the soldier nearest him

and wounded another. There was only the fleeting clashing of

steel, and then quiet. Seeing the blood on the carpet beneath

them, the rioters put down their arms.

Punishment was just and cruel. The Agha of the Janizaris

and the leaders of the outbreak went to execution; the mass of

men returned to their barracks and their duties.

With the end of the winter's snow and the coming of the first

grass, Suleiman ordered the drum of conquest sounded. He had

no alternative but to lead the army out again.

From his palace across the Golden Horn, Marco Memmo ob

served the familiar signs of preparation for war. When Ibrahim

returned in haste by sea from Egypt, His Excellency concluded

that the expedition would be full-scale and immediate. His spies

confirmed that, adding the fact that supply convoys were leav

ing for the northern mountains, so the Turks must be moving

upon the gateway of the Danube. Messer Marco on his own

LANDS OF WAR

account reflected that their Divan had just signed a treaty of

accord with Poland. Such a treaty already existed with his

republic of Venice. Therefore neither the Poles nor the Vene

tians were expected to interfere with them. Andhe applied

Luigi Gritti's test to this fact what Lands of War lay closest to

Venice and Poland? Austria of course, with Bohemia and

Hungary.

Still His Excellency could not rid himself of doubts of such

apparent certainty. Since there was only one person who could

resolve his doubts, he ordered his carriage to go up the Bos-

phorus, where Gritti now owned a small palace with a terrace

opening pleasantly on the water. Gritti might be Dragoman of

the Gate, in the Vizir's pay, but Memmo suspected that he

would not try to delude his visitor if Venice were threatened. It

irked the ambassador that he should need to seek out the ad

venturer to assure himself of the destination of the Turks.

On his terrace Gritti greeted his friend with no surprise what

ever. "Is there a report to go to the ducal palace?"

Memmo noticed that a bracelet gleamed on his wrist, set with

an emerald of great size. Deciding not to take offense, he

nodded affably. "You have seen the sailing galliot moored by

our barge?"

"No, Excellency but I knew it must be there because you are

here in my poor abode. And your report? It will be that the

Sultan and his Turkish asker march to the Danube?"

This the ambassador did not care to admit. It would not da

to trust Gritti too readily. "Signor, I have only fragments of

information that three years of truce have emboldened the

Hungarians beyond Belgrade, so that their worthy archbishop,

Paul Tomori, and, yes, the venturesome Count Frangipani have

been assailing the Turks with their Hungarians. It seems a slight

matter." He paused, to say forcibly, "Venice lies not far from

the Danube."

Something hard came into Grittfs voice. "It will not be

Venice this time."

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Straining his ears to catch the low intonation, Memmo

nodded. If the objective of the Turks were not Venice, it must

be the Hungarians. If the bastard could be believed. Abruptly

he probed at the other's thought. "Do you speak as the son of

the Illustrious, the Doge Andrea Gritti, or as the Dragoman of

Ibrahim?"

Once more the dark eyes mocked him. "Am I not both?"

"By the lion of San Marco why do you serve the Turk?"

Grittfs hand swept across the terrace, and the emerald

flashed on his wrist. "I take joy in my new home. And-have

you forgotten my interest in Suleiman?"

"I have failed to understand it."

"I did not expect Your Excellency to do so." For a moment

Gritti stared at his wrist. "Perhaps only he can bring peace to

the world/*

The Warning of Mohdcs

When had there been peace in Europe? There was fear in

Europe, greater than the fear of the incoming of the Turks. This

greater fear resounded in voices crying from the street corners

and at night where men marched on the highroads. It spoke a

word that was new and secret, Bundschuh, Bundschuh

What was so dignified and so manifestly a figure of power as

the Holy Roman Emperor seated in the Diet or conclave of

the Germanic princes and prelates in the flourishing city of

Worms in the very heart of Europe, in the center of title Com

monwealth of Christians?

In the early month of spring five years before, Charles V, the

Emperor, had sat there, listening to speeches in Latin that he

barely understood. Threefold fears assailed his mind, drawing

his thoughts from the solemn Latin words. One in his kingdom

of Spain the heretical Moriscos were gathering and resisting his

efforts to convert or expel them after the policy of Cardinal

LANDS OF WAR

Ximenes. In Aragon, in Granada where this Moorish folk still

hung around the castles from which they had been driven . . .

Two the obdurate Francis was mustering his armed forces to

assail the lands of Charles's Empire. . . . Three there in the

Diet before Charles a thickset mumbling monk, Martin Luther,

was refusing to disavow his writings, saying that they had been

taken from the word of God, and he could do no otherwise

A strange speaker, one Hieronymus Balbus, was making an

appeal, driven by a fear of his own. A Hungarian, a Magyar

from the east, from the far limit of the Empire, he was shouting,

"Who stayed the Turks from raging onward in their madness?

The Hungarians. Who checked their overwhelming fury? The

Hungarians. Who chose to turn against themselves the full

power and onslaught of these barbarians, rather than allow

them to open a way into the lands of others? The Hungarians!"

The man Balbus was saying that the Christian Common

wealth would have been invaded, and the vitals of German

and Italian kingdoms pierced, if the Hungarians had not set up

a wall against the pagan invaders.

"But now the Hungarian kingdom is so stripped of strength

and its people have been so struck down that unless it can have

aid from the west it cannot long resist the Turks."

Balbus spoke at Worms. And then Luther spoke his few

words. It smacked of heresy that a monk, alone, could claim

to be inspired by the word of God. An edict was laid against

him at Worms. When Luther hurried from the hall people

closed around him, German knights and burghers. They raised

their clenched fists in the gesture that was a salute of the

Landsknechts. They hurried Luther out and they hid him.

Then was heard along the roads leading from Worms the

watchword of gathering and revolt, Bundschuh, Bundschuh,

Bundschuh. It passed from the protestant knights to the burgh

ers of the towns and the peasants waiting in the fields. . . .

What could be done to give armed aid to Hungary at such a

time? The Holy Roman Emperor almost absently gave the man

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Balbus a written answer, allowing the Hungarians to fend for

themselves and even to make a truce with the Turks, "provided

always . . . that it should not dishonor or injure the Catholic

faith, or the Commonwealth of Christendom."

No aid was given to Hungary in that earlier year, and Bel

grade fell to the Turks.

Five years later, on August 28, 1526, the rains had ceased

along the Danube. But the river was in flood from its upper

reaches that flowed around the capital city of Vienna, and past

the smaller Hungarian capital of Buda. From Buda the river

ran due south across the immense lowlands of Hungary, until

it Joined with the Drave. There it changed its course again*

flowing east through "hills past Belgrade. It was this lower

easterly course of the great river that the Turks had captured

five years before.

The heavy rains had turned hollows into marshes along the

banks of the river. Streams had turned into mudspates churning

through the gullies.

Where the village of Mohacs rose, red-roofed, against the

riverbank the army of the Hungarians and some volunteer

forces was encamped. Before that encampment, to the south, a

waterlogged prairie stretched for some six miles, as far as a line

of hillocks overgrown with trees/ This prairie was called the

field of Mohacs. So on August .28 the army was quartered along

ihe upper end of the vast field.

The Hungarian army had gathered there to defend Europe.

But behind it lay the tensions and antagonisms of a continent.

At the edge of the Atlantic Henry VIII had promised to con

tribute some money for defense. The King of France, having

been captured at Pavia and imprisoned in Madrid by the Em

peror Charles, had no least wish to aid the Empire. Charles

himself was involved in the struggle now begun between the

Romanists and the armed Lutherans, and the uprising of the

peasantry throughout the German lands the peasantry that

LANDS OF WAR

had believed mistakenly in the Gospel as proclaimed by Luther

as a summons to fight for their freedom.

Luther had said about the Turks, "To fight against the Turks

is to resist the Lord, who visits our sins with such [chastising]

rods." Dimly the common folk, who had the text of the Bible in

their hands for the first time, regarded the appearance of the

Turks as something out of the Book of Revelation.

Pope Clement VII had stormed at Luther, yet Clement de

sired to see a breakdown rather than an increase of the power

of the Hapsburgs, headed by Charles. Ferdinand, the younger

brother of Charles, was occupied at Vienna, and had no wish

to ally himself with the troublesome Hungarians. Belatedly the

Hapsburgs called a Diet together. By August 28 the Diet at

Spires went on record as favoring general measures against the

Turkish attack. That was the day before the battle of Mohacs.

Nearer at hand, close to Mohacs, the same jealousies and

antagonisms were repeated on a smaller scale. Not that the

peers and prelates concerned were particularly unscrupulous,

or in the new fashion Machiavellian. It was simply that,

faced by an emergency, they sought to safeguard their own

well-being and to let the losses fall on their political antagonists.

The man most responsible for the defense of Hungary was

its King, an amiable youth named Louis, very fond of tourna

ments and hunting. Louis had no influence with his people, be

cause he was of Polish descent and ruled Bohemia also much

preferring the festivities of Prague to those of primitive Budau

Besides, Louis had been married off to Mary, the sister of the

Hapsburgs, Charles and Ferdinand. And the people, the Bo

hemians especially, detested the "Germans" of the House of

Hapsburg. Mary herself, devoted to court entertainments, was

annoyed because the mobilizations interfered with the parties

she had planned.

Then, too, between the Catholic Hungarian nobility and the

sturdy Bohemian middle classes there lay the cleavage of re

ligious doctrine. The radical teaching of John Huss still influ-

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

enced the land of Prague, where many good burghers were

turning to the doctrine of Luther.

Wider than the religious cleavage, however, was the bitter

ness in Hungary between peasants and nobles. The half-starved

peasantry had turned on the upper classes only a few years

before, and the ensuing jacquerie darkened the memories of all

of them.

In consequence, the army mustered by King Louis at

Mohacs consisted almost entirely of the nobles and their horse

menthe Royal Party while the Hungarian commoners rallied

to a certain John Zapolya, a Transylvanian magnate who headed

what might be called the Nationalist Party.

John Zapolya's army was coming in from the eastward, but

slowly and with great reluctance. The main army of the Bo

hemians was also advancing farther to the west, delayed be

cause it was composed mostly of foot soldiery who had no desire

to join the mounted nobles.

Meanwhile, although it had needed to bridge flooded rivers

and capture fortified towns on the way, the Turkish army led

by one man, Suleiman, had arrived on the scene. It had been

sighted that morning from the line of wooded hills at the lower

end of the plain of Mohacs. . . .

In the Hungarian camp there had been as many different

plans for action as there were leaders. The youthful Louis said

frankly that he knew nothing about a battle, but he would try

to bear himself bravely. Only one man, who was afraid, sug

gested retreating to the shelter of Buda and waiting for John

Zapolya and the Bohemians to arrive. He was a bishop from

Varazdin, unacquainted with war. The others refused to retreat

or to abandon the fertile Hungarian plain to the ravaging of

the Turks.

A professional soldier, Hannibal by name, in command of the

German mercenaries-4000 of them hired with the funds

donated by Henry VIII and Clement VH-proposed making a

tand behind a palisade with the cannon. (His division, being

LANDS OF WAR

pikemen, were accustomed to that.) Another experienced

leader, Gnomski, a Polish volunteer, advised making a defense

line of wagons. (His 1500 infantrymen had made good use of

wagons before. )

The Hungarian nobles would not do that. Their knights and

lightly armed hussars were accustomed to charge the enemy.

It would be both cowardly and mistaken to their thinking to

stand still like peasants to await the attack of the enemy.

Worthy Archbishop Tomori, who had had years of experience

in partisan action against the Turks along the lower Danube,

agreed that if they were to give battle they should attack. The

greater part of the Turks, he explained, were lightly armed

horsemen who might be broken by the onset of the heavily

armed and armored Christians, especially on the morrow, which

was the day of St. John.

In the end, that evening the leaders at Mohacs selected Arch

bishop Tomori for one of their commanders on the morrow. In

vain the courageous archbishop protested that he had had no

experience in handling an army. A certain Palatine was to be

the other commander.

As to the army itself, the new commanders decided that the

German mercenaries and cannon should stay entrenched by the

camp as Gnomski had advised; King Louis and his immediate

following should wait there also, in reserve. Meanwhile the first

battle line should make the charge. Thus everyone except the

Pole was allowed to do what he wished to do.

Hearing that, the Bishop of Varazdin whispered to Louis,

"And in Rome His Holiness had better arrange for the canon

ization of twenty thousand Hungarian martyrs.'*

The death toll of the next day's disaster came almost to

twenty thousand, including the bishop himself. Almost the en

tire army was lost 1 It had been doomed not so much by its

1 The Christians at Mohacs numbered perhaps 25,000. No exact estimate

of their force is available. On the other hand, the Turkish strength has

been vastly exaggerated by the European chroniclers, who give it, in

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

own inexperience as by the dissensions of the courts of Europe.

For the Hungarian horsemen were brave and formidable

fighters. Descendants of the Magyars from the steppes of Asia,

they were the best riders in Europe.

The charge of their first division on that day of St. John met

the advancing Turks and broke through the Army of Europe.

It swept on, into the center of the Army of Asia, and cut its

way through by sheer physical power.

At that point the Palatine galloped back over the wooded

rise, to the line of reserves waiting at the camp. Reaching the

standard of King Louis, he shouted that the battle was all but

won. At once the young King gave the order to advance and

took the reserves forward, away from the German pikemen and

the cannon. They galloped over the rise and down the slope,

over the ground of the earlier action.

No one except Archbishop Tomori seems to have noticed the

Turkish force far out on the flank away from the river, closing

in behind them. They had no conception that the disciplined

antagonists of the first two battle lines were parting to let them

through.

The third Turkish army did not divide in front of them. It

consisted of the heavy guns chained together, of the massed

janizaris, and Suleiman with his guards, supported by the

spahis. Against this formation the first Hungarians piled up,

crowded into the cannon smoke that choked them and made

their horses unmanageable. Into this confusion the youthful

Louis galloped headlong with his reserves.

Wearied, they tried to draw out into some kind of order. They

round numbers, as 100,000 to 300,000. At Mohacs, Archbishop Tomori

estimated it at 70,000. More probably its fighting force consisted of some

9000 janizaris, 7000 mounted spahis, and 30,000 for the combined levies

of Europe and Asia-perhaps 46,000. There may have been as many more

of the akinjis or foraging partisans, engineers and other service detach

ments. At Mohacs the Turkish army had marched six hundred miles from

Constantinople, and must have left detachments along the route in gar

rison and supply service.

LANDS OF WAR

were struck by horsemen on both sides. They crowded together,

their heavily armored chargers sinking and slipping in the

marshy ground. They tried to find their way out of the smoke,

and then, desperately, they fled on exhausted horses.

Only detachments of the light hussars escaped from the plain.

Two archbishops, six bishops, the officers of the crown of

Hungary, and five hundred nobles died there, with their main

array of "gentle and simple men," A month later the body of

Louis was found buried deep in the mud of a gully.

Between three o'clock that afternoon and sunset, when Sulei

man ordered trumpets to sound recall, the leaders and the

nobility of the Hungarian nation were lost.

Suleiman's diary reads:

August 29. "We make camp on the field of the battle."

August 30. "The Sultan rides out. Order to the troops to bring

in all prisoners to the council tent."

August 31. "The Sultan seated on a throne of gold receives

the salutations of the vizirs and officers; massacre of two thou

sand prisoners. Rain falls in torrents."

September 1. "The Secretary of Europe receives order to

bury the bbdies."

September 2. "Rest, at Mohacs. Twenty thousand foot sol

diers and 4000 mailed riders of the Hungarian army are buried"

Opening of the Corridor

It seemed to the army as if Suleiman's good fortune had

gained them a new land. Surely never before had fortune in two

hours' time won for the faithful such a victory, and such reward!

In fact Suleiman's announcement of the victory, written to the

far provinces, to Cairo on the Nile, to the Tatar Khan and to the

guardian Sherif of Mecca, confirmed their belief, for it said,

"God's grace has given to my splendid armies a triumph with

out equal."

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Unmistakably Suleiman was excited, perhaps startled by the

climactic issue of the field of Mohacs. Particularly it pleased

him that Ibrahim's first test as Vizir should have turned out in

credibly well. The inventive Greek had proved himself a bril

liant organizer. Ibrahim's white turban, trimmed with gold, had

been a rallying signal, even when the Hungarian horsemen had

hacked their way within a few yards of the Sultan. . . . But

inwardly Suleiman did not believe that Mohacs had been won

by any turn of destiny. Better than the overexcited Ibrahim he

understood that success had come to him from the blundering

of the Christians.

Reflectively Suleiman studied the broad, muscular head of

one of them, the Archbishop Tomori, which had been thrown

at his feet by an eager swordsman.

An Italian observer describes him at this time as "deadly pale

... of no great strength, seemingly, but his hand is very

strong as I noticed when I kissed it. They say he has strength

to bend a stiff bow better than others. He is melancholy by

nature, much given to women, free-thinking, proud, hasty, and

sometimes very gentle."

In those days of rain while the burial went on at Mohacs, he

was faced with the problem of what to do with Hungary. The

problem required quick solution, because autumn frosts chilled

the nights, and the grass on which his horse herds subsisted was

dying off. Once Suleiman stopped a passing warrior from Asia,

and asked familiarly, "Well, my old one what shall we do

next?"

The question did not surprise the trooper. If he himself had

had a grievance, he might have gone over to the council tent

to complain to this young man girded with the Osmanli sword.

"Take care," he answered thoughtfully, "that the sow does not

punish its own litter."

In saying that he merely repeated the talk of the campfires.

Suleiman had been unusually severe in ordering all divisions

of the army to hold their posts after the battle. Whereas the

100

LANDS OF WAR

army, except for Suleiman's personal guard, had only one desire

to be loosed over the Hungarian countryside after disposing

of the infidel fighting force.

It was more than a craving for plunder; it was an economic

need, sanctioned by old custom, for the Turkish feudal levies

to glean some wealth from a Land of War once the opportunity

arose. If Suleiman prevented that customary gleaning of reward

he would be punishing his own litter. Or so the timariot the

feudal cavalryman thought.

This particular timariot was probably a farmer. Perhaps he

had his land holding in the red plain near Aleppo, with grape

vines and a field of corn, a few horses at graze. Early that spring

he had outfitted himself and several riders, his followers. After

reporting to the agha of his command, he had made the march

of more than six hundred miles to Europe, and as much again to

the battle of Mohdcs. On that journey the timariot had had to

provide for his followers and the feeding of the horses. (The

Sultan's regular army and the higher officers of the levies re

ceived some pay and provisions, but usually the small trooper

was obliged to feed and pay himself off the country. )

It would be early winter, and the grapes and corn harvested

by his women and servants, God willing, before the trooper

could dismount again at his farm. If, then, he did not bring back

a handful of silver with a few garments of satin and brocade

for the women, the winter would be a lean one. If, on the other

hand, he could dismount at his door and scatter gold coins and

silver candlesticks with even a jewel to be traded in the Aleppo

bazaar his family would boast to their neighbors. No, the

Sultan must not punish his own brood, for the sake of the in

fidels!

If that was the need of the sturdy timariots, the necessity

of the foraging akinjis was greater. Truthfully, Christian chron

iclers called them the ravening wolf packs of the Turkish army.

Beyond coherent need, fierce fanaticism drove on these men.

The dervishes who rode with them and chanted prayers through

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the hours of the night sang and danced with joy after the vic

tory. The dervishes sang the promises of the Prophet of God:

"The truth is from your Lord . . . those who have believed and

have done the things that are right . . . for them the gardens

of Eden under whose shades shall rivers -flow; decked shall they

be therein with bracelets of gold, and green robes of silk and

rich brocades shall they wear . . . blessed the reward!"

Although the dervishes were singing the great rewards after

death, the Turkish riders coming often from homes in the

desert lands took the promises to apply to the miraculous

rushing rivers of the infidel Hungarian land, and to the brocades

in the chests of the townspeople.

Above all, the Turks of the feudal levies expected the earth

itself to be made over to some of them in fiefs. It was good

earth. Old custom required that such a land, a Land of War,

be divided up. The Sultan should take his share, the keepers of

the Law their portion, and the bulk of the new conquest should

be apportioned among the troopers who would henceforth

guard this new frontier. Sultan Suleiman, however, did not seem

willing to carry out the ancient custom.

Instead he issued orders against burning villages or destroy

ing towns. He made no effort to enforce them, when they were

disregarded. The only order the army respected in those days

:>f looting was to preserve the lives of women and children. The

youngest and most likely of those were taken along as slaves,

to be kept or sold.

So terror swept through Hungary from the Carpathians to the

Bosnian heights.

In the week that followed, Suleiman ascended the Danube

:o Buda. And as he went the army dwindled strangely. Aghas

)btained permission to storm the small gray castles that seemed

:o rear above every village in this infidel land. When they had

ite castles, they stripped the villages. The cavalry regiments

'ound it necessary to forage into fresh territory, and when they

102

LANDS OF WAR

returned they escorted wagon trains of plunder as well as loads

of barley and hay. A janizary regiment heard of an untouched

walled town and marched thither at speed, only to find that

the akinjis had been there before them, leaving gaping smok

ing walls stripped of everything that could be carried off. Some

bands of akinjis raided into Austria, within sight of Vienna.

Cannon disappeared from the artillery train, The guns were

taken off by regiments that had penned a mass of peasantry

within an improvised fort of wagons chained together. Turn

ing the guns on the wagons, the Turks massacred the defenders.

People gathered in massive stone churches to defend them

selves, and the churches were burned over them.

No one remained to lead the defense of the helpless country,

after Mohacs. Mary, the widow of Louis, fled to the protection

of Vienna; the Bohemian army withdrew at pace to its own

border; John Zapolya led his Nationalist army of commoners

back to the eastern hills, there to watch events warily.

When Suleiman reached the small capital of Buda on the

river's edge, only simple folk remained there. They came out

to offer him the keys of the city, and he ordered that it should

not be damaged or plundered. In spite of that, fire started mys

teriously in the streets as the army entered.

The diary relates, for September 14: "Fire breaks out in Buda,

in spite of the measures taken by the Sultan. The Grand Vizir

hastens in to check it; his efforts are useless/' Buda burned, ex

cept for the castles and its park, where Suleiman was quartered.

There he explored the grounds, hunting with falcons of the

late occupants, while he celebrated a Moslem lental feast and

pondered the problem of Hungary. When he left, a pair of siege

guns captured long before by the Hungarians from the Con

queror were embarked on barges to be shipped back to Con

stantinople. On his own account Suleiman had the splendid

library of the humanist who had been the greatest of the

Hungarian kings, Matthias Corvinus, packed and shipped down

the Danube. Ibrahim insisted on taking three ancient Greek

103

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

statues, of Hercules, Apollo and Diana statues that were

anathema to devout Moslems who would have no human

images around them.

The homeless Jews of Buda were shipped to Constantinople.

On leaving the palace of the Hungarian longs, Suleiman gave

orders that it was not to be damaged and this time he meant it.

Already his plan for Hungary is rumored through the army,

causing general discontent. The Sultan, having conquered the

greater part of it, will not keep it, even as he kept Rhodes-

making the land itself the property of the Osmanli Empire, the

inhabitants one of the inner nationalities. Instead, he prepares

to evacuate it. The army cannot understand why.

Certainly the Sultan is attracted to the country itself. His

diary mentions its "lakes and magnificent prairies/' This im

mense, fertile Hungarian plain is watered by rivers flowing

down from cloud-reaching mountains that ring it roundit has

been the rendezvous of nomads from the east, from Attila's

Huns to the Mongols of the Golden Horde. The Magyars have

made it their home. But he is leaving it.

Guardedly, the historian of the expedition, Kemal Pasha

Zade, sets forth a reason in his record, embellished with official

flowery phrases: "The time of joining this province to the pos

sessions of Islam had not yet arrived, nor had the day come

when the heroes of the Holy War should honor the rebel plain

by abiding in it. So heed was given to the wise saying, when

thou wouldst enter, think -first how thou wilt find a way out

again"

The heroes of the holy war are well aware how far they have

penetrated Europe. (Buda, seven hundred miles from Con

stantinople as the crow flies, lies only a hundred and forty miles

from Vienna. ) They were perfectly willing to make this para

dise of grass a battleground, to keep it. Seemingly Suleiman is

not so inclined.

Despite the grumbling of the army, the people of Constan

tinople greet the return of their Sultan with transports of joy.

104

LANDS OF WAR

After Mohacs, they receive him as conqueror of the Lands of

War, and some speak of him as Sultan of the world. The diligent

Kemal looses all the organ stops of thanksgiving in his period

to the expedition: "May the friends of his rule find unending

happiness, and the foes of his empire defeat! May his banners fly

victorious until the day of the Resurrection, and his armies go

on to triumph until the sounding of the trumpets of Judgment!

May God always protect the edifice of his greatness!'*

Ibrahim's reception is less wholehearted* The young Vizir,

pleased with his Greek statues, has Hercules and Diana and

Apollo set up on pedestals outside his palace, overlooking the

Hippodrome. There they startle the crowds in the streets. And

soon the streets are laughing at a rimester's ready verse:

"The first Abraham scourged his people

For bowing down to images.

This second Abraham sets 'em up again"

Yet here in Constantinople lies the answer to Suleiman's

brooding over Hungary. It rests in the wording of a letter writ

ten by an anxious mother on behalf of her son. These few words

will shape the future policy of the son of Selim the Grim.

Appeal of the Queen Mother of France

The letter came unexpectedly months before he started

for Mohacs. The first bearers of the message were killed on the

way by agents of the Hapsburgs. Another envoy, a member

of the Frangipani family, got through to Constantinople with

letters from the Queen Mother of France, and Francis I, who

had sent a ring with a ruby signet.

At that time the volatile young monarch of France had suf

fered defeat and capture at the hands of the Emperor Charles,

in their struggle for possession of northern Italy. He had writ

ten as a prisoner without hope, in Madrid. His mother had ap-

105

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

pealed emotionally to Suleiman as "Emperor of the Turks" to

restore freedom to her son. "We invoke thee, great Emperor, to

show thy generosity and bring back my son."

Frangipani was more specific. He asked Suleiman to attack

the Hapsburg empire, and force the liberation of Francis.

Otherwise, he hinted, the unfortunate French monarch would

be made to sign away lands and rights to the Hapsburg, who

would then become unquestioned master of Europe. Nothing

could have better suited Suleiman, who was planning at the

time to march on Buda.

It seemed almost providential. For centuries the Turks had

been led to think of the King of France as the foremost mon

arch of Europe. Had not Charlemagne (who sent gifts to Harun

ar Rashid in Baghdad) been King of the Franks? De Lisle

Adam, the defender of Rhodes, had come out from France.

Moreover, Suleiman had heard that the youthful Francis re

sembled himself in many respects, being called the first gentle

man of Europe. It was as if the chivalrous Franciswho lost

nothing in Frangipani's description of him had buried the

enmity of the past, and had reached out the hand of friendship

to a Turk. The appeal to his generosity was the strongest pos

sible appeal to Suleiman.

Suleiman was both credulous and hopeful. The letter of the

Most Christian King of France opened up an entirely new vista

to him. It was the first break in the Lands of War lying to the

west of him.

Although Frangipani brought no gifts, he was received at the

Serai with the utmost hospitality ( and Francis* ring turned up

later in Ibrahim's hands ) .

He carried back with him Suleiman's eager acknowledgment

of the new friendship: "I, Sultan Suleiman Khan, son of Sultan

Selim. Khan, to thee Francis, King of the land of France: You

have sent to the sanctuary of my Gate a letter by the hand

of your faithful servant Frangipani. He has made known to me

how the enemy overran your country, so you are now a cap-

106

LANDS OF WAR

tive. You have asked aid, for your deliverance. All this your

saying having been set forth at the foot of my throne, the refuge

of the world, has gained my imperial understanding in every

detail, and I have considered all of it.

"There is nothing wonderful in emperors being defeated

and made captive. Do you, then, take courage and be not down

cast. Our glorious predecessors and illustrious ancestors may

God keep alight their tombs never ceased from making war to

drive back their foe and conquer his lands. We ourselves have

followed their path; we have at every time conquered provinces

and citadels both great in strength and in difficulty of approach.

By night as well as by day our horse is saddled and our saber

girded on.

"May God the Most High advance righteousness! May His

will, whatsoever it portends, be accomplished. For the rest,

ask it of your envoy and be informed. Know that it will be as

said.

"Written . . . from the residence of the Empire, from Con

stantinople, the well guarded/'

Under the ceremonious phrasing and Suleiman was careful

not to put in writing exactly what he agreed to do this letter

shows a desire to gain Francis* friendship, and to co-operate

with him against the Germans. Francis is greeted as an equal,

and mentioned as being emperor (in the estimation of the

Turks there was only one emperor in Europe and he was Sulei

man). Reading between the lines, we feel that the Turk is hap

pily convinced of two things: he can follow the way of the

Osmanlis, his ancestors, by going farther into Europe on

Francis* behalf; at the same time he is hopeful of making his

city, Constantinople, a sanctuary for the oppressed.

Probably not even Frangipani, a shrewd negotiator, under

stood how fully Suleiman meant what he said. "Know that it

will be as said."

For the first time the Osmanli Turks entered European affairs

as more than barbarians who had pitched their camp in the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Balkan mountains. During the next years the European courts

would look toward the east in a crisis.

The first consequence of the Queen Mother's letter was that

in January 1526 Charles released the ailing Francis. To win his

freedom the French King had to sign the famous treaty of

Madrid, by which the House of Hapsburg exacted much from

the House of Valois. As soon as he crossed the frontier Francis

disavowed the treaty, claiming that it had been signed under

duress. Just as lightly he disavowed Suleiman. As the "Most

Christian King" who had announced that he would lead a cru

sade against the Turks when he had been a candidate in the

election that Charles had won from the electors six years before,

he would not admit that he had an understanding with the

Sultan.

Charles, however, had learned the facts of Frangipanfs mis

sion from informants. He was quick to announce that he seemed

to have two enemies, in the west and the east, the Most Chris

tian King of France and the Commander of the Faithful. Iron

ically, his ministers commented upon "the sacrilegious union of

the Lily and the Crescent."

But Suleiman was very earnest in seeking the friendship of

France.

As he had suspended conquest after Rhodes to set his own

Osmanli house in order, Suleiman held back after Mohacs from

further invasion of Europe for two years. In those two years,

1527-29, he studied the eastern face of Europe proper with

great care. On one pretext or another he remained at the

Serai to do so.

It is often said, too carelessly, that those years marked the

height of his military glory. In reality they marked his change

from warrior to diplomat. A door had been opened for him, as

it were, into western and Christian diplomatic society. Into

that door he resolved to enter, to take his place beside his only

equals, Francis I and Charles V.

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Remember that lie had not been the one to seek alliance

with France or enmity with the Empire. He must have reflected

with amusement when he passed the Roman column of his inner

garden that this same Charles Hapsburg still called himself

Roman Emperor. This city which had been the seat of the

eastern Roman emperors for a thousand years was now Sulei

man's city!

Then, too, whenever he passed the small marble Treasury of

the Prophet's Mantle, he was reminded how he was titular head

of Islam. As such he was bound to be the antagonist of the

Pope, the spiritual head of Christendom. When he visited the

Divan, his own officers voiced the urgency of the holy war

against Europe which lay so temptingly close to his new fron

tier of Buda and Pesth. Suleiman, in their minds, had become

invincible. The next march forth would penetrate further into

the vitals of weakening Europe. What mattered it who wore

the crowns there?

"It is not the metal of crowns/' Mustafa, oldest of the pashas >

told him, "it is not gold but the iron of the sword that will rule

a country."

Europe's Kaleidoscope Changes

While he watched the continent in which he meant to be

come a resident, Suleiman was forced to imagine what it might

be like beyond the mountain ranges of Hungary. True, he had

studied Aristotle, and, like the pages of the School who waited

on him, the philosophy of Maimonides, but he had never beheld

the European life of his time. He had only one ambassador

there, at the halfway point of Venice.

Not being merchants, the Turks had no trading posts there;

Turkish ships kept as yet to the Asiatic shores, along the Black

Sea, or perhaps across to Egypt. As for the shipmasters from

the west who flocked into the Golden Horn, they came search

ing for profit in trade from such things as silk or ivory or spice.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Fragments of their gossip along the water front drifted up to

Suleiman. What could he believe of it? Occasionally an envoy

like Frangipani on special mission sat in talk with him to gain

something from him. An envoy like Memmo could be counted

on to trick him.

So Suleiman, pondering in seclusion the problem of Europe,

began to press Ibrahim to draw information from foreigners,

In his turn the Vizir depended upon Luigi Gritti, and suggested

that the Sultan go with him to Gritti. Suleiman broke the tra

dition of the Osmanlis by doing so. On the terrace of the exile's

palace they could talk without being overheard. Of course they

were seen, and devout Moslems felt aggrieved because the

Lord of the Two Worlds had gone like a common man into the

home of a Christian who took bribes and drank wine.

Of the three who sat together on the terrace by the Bos-

phorus, two were reaping fortunes. Ibrahim concealed from

Suleiman how greatly he was making use of Gritti. Both urged,

on the Sultan the importance of close alliance with Venice.

(Gritti was working for that for personal reasons, while

Ibrahim, who exploited the foreign trade, planned to channel

traffic from Asia through Constantinople into the hands of for

eign merchants, and in so doing had need of Venetian mer

chants and their fleets.) Venice, they said truthfully, was now

the natural enemy of the Hapsburgs, fearing their rising power.

The French, too, should be given trade concessions in Egypt

as a token of Suleiman's good will.

Suleiman could not understand the conflicts around his an

tagonist Charles. As King of Spain, Charles was opposed by the

Portuguese in the New World, whence he drew fleedoads of

silver.

The Portuguese, Gritti pointed out, were sailing eastward as

well, circling around the Turks, to glean new riches direct from

the ports of far Asia.

But why was a great monarch like Charles in debt to a family

of bankers like the Fuggers?

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Because he lacked ready money to pay his numerous armies.

If Charles was indeed the friend of the great Pope, why had

his armies just now ravaged the city of Rome, making the Pope

himself a prisoner in his castle of St. Angelo?

Because his armies had looted the Pope's city, to get money.

Most of them were mercenary Swiss pikemen and German

Landsknechts. After Suleiman had turned back from Buda,

they were free to go down to loot through Italy with the Ger

mans paid by Ferdinand, the brother of Charles.

Then, if the Pope were indeed the supreme head of the

Christians, why did he not prevent this intrusion by the unruly

armed bands of Charles?

Because he had no armies of his own.

After considering this kaleidoscope of ambition and violence,

Suleiman agreed to encourage the Venetian merchants and to

grant some of the Egyptian carrying trade to the French. He

would have two friends upon the sea. As to the land, the pic

ture was not clear to him. He would wait and see what hap

pened in Hungary after he had vacated it. Silently he decided

that Charles was a very capable ruler.

So intent was he on the European scene that when an out

break came that summer in Aiatolia, where dervishes had

stirred Turkoman tribes to take the field, he sent Ibrahim there

instead of going himself to restore quiet.

His patience was rewarded. While he had found it hard to

understand why a Christian army had sacked Rome, he had no

difficulty in observing what happened to the great Hungarian

plain that had been left without a master.

The Hapsburg brothers moved into the defenseless corridor.

Suleiman had hardly left the Danube behind him when, with

Charles's approval, the younger brother Ferdinand was pro

claimed King of the harassed land by one of the few surviving

bishops. (Through his wife Anne, the sister of the dead Louis,

the stubborn and narrow-minded Ferdinand had a claim to the

throne. )

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

So the shape began to appear of a middle Europe to be ruled

by the Emperora "fortress Europe" built around Vienna, with

the bastions of the German lands to the west, and the bastion

of Bohemia with the Hungarian plain to the east.

But one portion of Hungary would have none of the Haps-

burgs. In the southeastern mountains John Zapolya, Voevode

of Transylvania, still had his army of commoners. (Moreover,

Suleiman's army had not devastated Transylvania. ) John Za

polya, in his turn, had himself crowned with the iron crown of

the Hungarian kings.

Very slowly Suleiman began to move against the European

fortress of the Hapsburgs, in a fashion of his own. He did it so

quietly that the movement was not perceived at first. A clue

to it lies in the evidence of another Italian: "There are in the

city besides the Turks countless Jews, or Marrani [Moors] ex

pelled from Spain; they have taught and are teaching every

useful art to the Turks, and most of the shops are kept by these

Marrani. In the Bezestan [Market] they sell and buy all sorts

of cloth and Turkish wares silks, linen, silver, wrought gold,

bows, slaves and horses. In short, all the things to be found in

Constantinople are brought here to market."

So in Rhodes the islanders had been encouraged to carry on

their work; in the Morea, the southern portion of Greece, the

fanners were thriving more under Turkish rule than under the

exactions of the Venetian signori. Another inner nation, the

Armenians, handled the bulk of the carrying trade.

From the sea, also, foreigners were seeking privileges in

Turkish markets; Greek shipmasters profited from the coastal

trade. Frangipani, returned to the city, asked further privileges

for French merchants.

Evidently Sultan Suleiman was offering refuge to the human

flotsam and jetsam of wars elsewhere. And by degrees the sta

bility of his rule began to be recognized in the west. Instead

of the "Turkish terror" chroniclers spoke more in the last year

of the pax Turcica, the Turkish peace that offered so great a

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LANDS OF WAR

contrast to the now endemic conflicts of middle Europe. (Paolo

Giovio had said of the year of the sack of Rome in which most

of his own papers had been lost "the events were too grievous

to relate/') By cautious steps the barbarian Turk was entering

the diplomatic society of Europe.

No one as yet realized the Sultan's determination to do so.

In Hungary, now the no man's land between the House of

Osman and the House of Hapsburg, he did not appear with his

army for three years. Instead he advanced his missionaries into

the mountains along the Danube on either flank of his gateway

of Belgrade.

Eastward into the Transylvanian Alps held by John Zapolya's

bands went wandering dervishes; westward into the ranges

held by the sturdy independent chieftains of the Bosnians and

Croats (Khrats) went armed columns of Turkish frontier forces

under the sanjakbeys, who occupied the valley routes without

molesting the mountain villages. Suleiman took pains to culti

vate them, aided by the Frangipani from the French court, who

had been born a Croat.

In so doing he was adding to his nucleus of Danubian peo

ples, who had been converted more than conquered, the Wal-

lachians (Vlakhs), Bulgars and Serbs. Understanding this,

Luigi Gritti had made with much reason his startling remark,

"Perhaps only he can bring peace to the world/*

In years to come Suleiman would turn to the highly intelli

gent Croats who were graduates of his School, to rule his

dominion under him.

Within that dominion, while he waited on events in Hungary,

he was making some changes very patiently because he could

not by sudden action shake his Turks loose from their old

customs.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Laws and Human Needs

Rather surprisingly Suleiman withdrew from his Divan.

The Divan gathered after daybreak in the small chamber

under the watchtower of the second court. The Vizir presided,

sitting in the center of the cushioned dais opposite the door,

through which the chief of messengers escorted folk with pe

titions, or cases to be tried, lawyers to make appeal, or foreign

envoys to negotiate affairs of their own. Beside him sat the two

judges of the army, the other pashas, and the first Secretary-

Treasurer.

Outside under the grilled portico crowded those who sought

to be heard, as tribesmen had waited outside a tent. Through

this small space of the Divan, publicly heard by all who could

listen, passed the affairs of the Osmanlis. The council sat four

days in the week.

At midday the room was cleared for a brief rest while the

members ate the food brought in on small tables set before

them. The Vizir had a bowl of sherbet, or julep, the others water

from the fountains. .

Since the time of the Conqueror, the sultans had sat apart at

the side behind a lattice screen, where they could observe

and intervene without being watched. (The story goes that

the Conqueror sat with the others against the wall until a

peasant wandered in to make a complaint and asked, after

staring at all of them, "Which one of you might be the Sultan?" )

In the afternoon when the public hearings ended, the Sultan

retreated into his private reception room, where the Divan

members came to make their individual reports, and others like

the aghas of janizaris or spahis brought affairs to his notice.

Often the last of them did not leave until sunset.

Suleiman changed that, after Ibrahim became Vizir. In the

rear wall over the council seat he had a window cut, with heavy

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grillwork projecting from it. Here, concealed from observa

tion, lie could sit, listening to what was discussed below. The

members of the Divan could not know if he were listening or

not. This withdrawal seemed to be a slight change, and it had

no effect at first, except to make Ibrahim more visibly the head

of authority.

There was a reason for Suleiman's withdrawal, beyond his

dislike of a crowded room and argument. Probably Mehmed

Fatih, the Conqueror, had decided to sit apart because no

human being even such a tireless driving personality as the

Conqueror's could sit listening to all the minute cases heard

by the council for six hours or more a day, and still retain any

clear grasp of the affairs of the dominion as a whole. Both

Bayazid and Selim had worked nights as well as days.

Selim's conquests in Asia had almost doubled the area of the

dominion. Besides, Selim had brought back with him the Man

tle of the Prophet from Mecca. In consequence, the Osmanli

sultans had become the visible successors to the kalif s of earlier

days; they now had the duty of protecting the holy places, and

ibis entailed responsibility for the annual pilgrimages to Mecca.

Suleiman had to listen to arguments about the possession of

the holy places in Jerusalemin Al Kuds, the Sacred City

where churches of the different Christian sects mingled with

Jewish shrines. These other Peoples of the Book had pilgrims

of their own journeying to Jerusalem. They had ancient privi

leges, especially upon the Mount of Olives and Mount Sinai, to

which they clung stubbornly and because of which they fell

frequently into strife among themselves. Suleiman had to judge

strange disputes about the right to rocks and olive groves where

David had dwelt and Christian Apostles had gathered.

It sometimes seemed as if the possession of a yard of earth,

or the right to keep a door open in their holy pkces within

Jerusalem, meant more than any other matters to the Christians.

This Suleiman could understand. Religious faith superseded

ordinary laws. And, on their part, written laws must serve

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human beings. You should not sacrifice a living person to a

written word. Suleiman had ideas of his own about the kanun,

the law code.

As to Jerusalem, he was soon to give his judgment: "The

Christians shall live peaceably under the wing of our protection;

they shall be allowed to repair their doors and windows, and

to preserve in all safety their places of prayer and of living which

they actually occupy. No one shall prevent or terrorize them in

doing so."

From unsuspected corners of Asia envoys came to stand be

fore him and make their requests. From beyond the steppes

ruled by the Tatar khans of the Crimea, a strange individual

came with gifts of sable skinsan Ivan Morosov of the obscure

city of Moscow, to ask for a mutual defense pact between Sulei

man and his master, whom he called Great Prince of Moscow.

Suleiman refused the mutual agreement, well aware that the

Krim Khan, who gave allegiance to him, was in the habit of

raiding the lands of Moscow, which paid yearly tribute to the

Khan. The Osmanli Sultan would not bind himself to the Mus

covite, who was a source of yearly profit to the Tatar Khan.

Instead, he offered to encourage trading for furs with the Mus

covites*

This matter of the care of individuals had grown very com

plex since the day of the Conqueror. The peculiarity bf the

Osmanli Organization lay in its responsibility for the individual

person, whether peasant, shopkeeper, tribesman, seaman or

literate lawyer or physician. At death the property of an officer

of the Organization returned to the Treasury. No family estates

could be created; those who served Suleiman were their own

heirs; they had no others. In consequence there existed no class

of wealthy men, or of dominant nobles.

When Piri Pasha was retired he became simply an aged man

living apart; at his death his property was gathered in by the

secretary-treasurers.

Yet constantly cases of need came before Suleiman. The

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personality of his servants could not be obliterated in spite of

the rigid Osmanli law. Widows needed allowances for living;

children had a moral right to some of their father's personal

property, Suleiman granted such children the greater part of a

personal estate.

Those alive in the Organization won their places by ability.

In contrast to the system of the Europeans, family and influ

ence did not advance them. This unceasing qualification, meant

to winnow out the most able to rule, extended even to the

janizaris. By law, no son of a Young Trooper might become a

janizary. They were not supposed to have families, but many of

them did, in one way or another. Suleiman tried to ease the

rigidity of the janizary law by permitting a class of married

men. Yet after that it became more difficult to bar out their sons.

As families tended to hold on to some property, the members

of a family tended to aid each other. By law an officer, like the

able Defterdar-the Secretary-Treasurer Mehmed Chelebi

could not appoint relations of his own to posts under his con

trol. Chelebi could appoint Sokolli, the Croat graduate of the

Enclosed School, to aid him, but not his own son. This did away

with nepotism among the Turks. The Sultan himself could not

name a blood relation for office. On the female side his sisters

and daughters were' given to distinguished men, who could have

no other wives than the one of imperial blood. Male children

of such marriages might serve in the Organization or as simple

army officers, but Turkish custom required them to make no

claim to imperial rank, so that no quarrel might arise as to the

succession. This unwritten law was obeyed. No child of Ibrahim,

for example, appears close to the throne. (There is no truth in

the oft-repeated tale that a sultan's womenkind were given to

eunuchs to prevent the birth of children; this belongs among

the noxious legends that grew from foreign gossip about the

harems of the sultans. )

So at his death a sultan would leave no dynasty behind him

except in the person of one surviving son, the others being exe-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

exited at that time in obedience to the ruthless law of the Con

queror.

Against that law Suleiman had set his mind. He would not

condemn to death all but one of the male children of Gulbehar

and Roxelana, with their offspring. Yet the inexorable law

would survive him unless he could in some way do away with it

before his own death.

Meanwhile Roxelana was gaining ascendancy within his

household.

Each year the solitary Russian was making greater claim

upon his emotions. She had given him two sons, whom he

named after his own father and grandfather, Selim and Bayazid.

Often now he went beyond the corridor into his harem because

he needed the companionship of the quick-witted Russian, even

more than the relaxation of her body's embrace.

Somehow Roxelana, as the Europeans called her, managed

to appear different at each visit. She would wear a small cap of

cloth of gold, or she would thread her loose light hair with

strings of pearls; she would resemble a slim boy in a military

dolman, or a dancing girl in gossamer that revealed the move

ment of thighs and breasts. In contrast Gulbehar, his first love,

appeared always the same, no matter how she darkened her fine

eyes with kohl or set flowers of garnet glass into her long tresses.

In similar wise the Russian managed to seem alone in the

labyrinth of the harem ( although she had her own staff of slaves

now to minister to her, and black eunuchs to bring her direct

news from outside). Because she never interfered with the

management of the harem, the Sultan Valideh tolerated her.

Besides, the Slav was always merry.

Then, too, Suleiman gave to his mother the deep respect

traditional with Turkish sons. Roxelana made no attempt to

alter the delicate balance of feeling between the unworldly

mother and the brilliant son. By separating herself, as it were,

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from the rule of the Valideh over the harem she simply ap

pealed to Suleiman's generosity, even for slipper money. The

domestics called her the Khasseki Khurrem, the Favored

Laughing One.

So until now in the strict hierarchy of the Turkish harem,

the mother had been supreme as Sultan Valideh, Gulbehar sec

ond, as First Kadin being mother of Mustafa, the first-born son,

and heir and Roxelana third, as Second Kadin.

Inevitably, the Circassian girl and the Russian fought a merci

less and silent battle. At least once they tore at each other with

hands and teeth. Roxelana, the slighter, suffered most from the

hair wrenching and face tearing. For days after that she re

fused to let Suleiman see her, explaining that she was too dis

figured. She made no other complaint, and so she gained his

sympathy.

Moreover, she professed to be afraid for her two sons, who

were helpless infants, playing in the Sultan Valideh's court

yard, at the fountain. Gulbehar's son was past puberty and of

an age to be sent to training out of the harem.

So it happened that when Mustafa did go to a province,

to the care of army tutors, Gulbehar consented to leave the

palace to accompany him. She realized that Suleiman had sep

arated himself from her; in Mustafa, who was destined to rule

after him, she had her only tie to him.

That year Bragadino, Venetian Bailo, wrote concerning Gul

behar that "her lord takes thought of her no longer."

Challenge of the First Embassies

And now the first fruit of his waiting appeared. The Hun

garians themselves sent envoys to ask his aid in December 1527.

In Hungary, inevitably, the two rival kings had come to

conflict. The Hapsburg, Ferdinand, being better equipped

and aided by the dour Bohemians, had made short work of

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occupying Buda and overrunning the middle plain, driving

the people's army of Zapolya before him.

And, defeated in the field, Zapolya had appealed to Sulei

man. The appeal pleased the Sultan, but not the manner of it.

Ibrahim castigated his envoy sharply. "You come too late. You

should have come before the crowning of your King. How

dared your lord think of himself as lord of Buda? Do you not

know that my master was there? Where the horse of the Sultan

has trod, that ground is forever his. ... Brother, you come here

as if from a servant. If you have come with tribute, give it;

otherwise there is no use talking."

But when envoys appeared from the Hapsburgs, their recep

tion was very different. The versatile Ibrahim played another

part that of a courteous host, interested in all his guests had

to say. ( He was curious to learn the intentions and the power

of the Hapsburgs.)

The two Germans, Hobordanacz and Weixelberger, had the

full benefit of ceremony, with the janizaris paraded at their

entrance, and all the pashas sitting robed in the Divan. On their

part the Germans had a train of four hundred knights, in full

panoply. There was an imperial air to the meeting, and Ibrahim

enjoyed himself vastly, asking if the envoys of the King of

Bohemia and Germany he did not say Hungary had had a

pleasant journey, and if they were comfortable in their quar

ters, and what had they to tell of their lord?

Hobordanacz said he was happy in the destiny that made

him, the King of Hungary, such a near neighbor of the great

Turkish emperor.

Ibrahim: "Did you not know that the Sultan has been to

Buda?"

Hobordanacz (roughly): "He left signs enough behind him,

for us to know he visited it/'

Ibrahim: "But the castle; how was that left?"

Hobordanacz: "Whole and undamaged."

Ibrahim: "Do you know why?"

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"Because it was the royal castle, apart from the town/ 7

"No, because the Sultan desired to preserve the castle for his

own use. God willing, he will keep it."

Hobordanacz: "We know that is the Sultan's idea. Yet even

Alexander the Great was unable to carry out such ideas/'

Ibrahim could not pass this answer over (knowing that Sulei

man was listening, who had debated with him so often the ideas

of Alexander). He challenged the envoy sharply. "Then you

say that Buda does not belong to Suleiman?"

"I cannot say,otherwise than that my King holds Buda."

Ibrahim seized the chance to cross-question him about Fer

dinand's real nature and power. "Why do you call him wise . . .

what do you understand by wisdom . . . what boldness and

courage do you find in him . . . what have you to say about the

power of your master?"

Hobordanacz did not fare very well in trying to draw Ferdi

nand's portrait as an ideal monarch. By pretending naive curi

osity and appearing skeptical, Ibrahim managed to get some

useful information from the envoy. Only at the end did the

Vizir drop his mask of guilelessness. The envoy had explained

that Ferdinand was supported by the friendship of his strong

neighbors.

Ibrahim: "We know that these so-called friendly neighbors

are in reality his enemies." And, as if absently, he asked, "Do

you come as at war or in peace?"

"Ferdinand desires the friendship of all his neighbors, the

enmity of none."

Having sounded out the envoys, Ibrahim had them conducted

into the presence of Suleiman with all splendor. Gifts were

offered by the knights attendant on the envoys, and taken by

janizaris of the guard, who displayed them to the onlookers.

Meanwhile the envoys were kept at the door with their inter

preter, until Suleiman asked them to state their master's busi

ness. Then each was led forward in turn between Ibrahim and

Kasim, who held their arms, in ancient tribal fashion.

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Hobordanacz said he had come to request a truce, if not a

peace. Giving no answer, Suleiman spoke aside to his Vizir,

who demanded, "How do you dare speak of the power of your

master here in the presence of the Sultan, to whose protection

other princes of Europe have been willing to commend them

selves?"

Unguardedly Hobordanacz asked who those princes might

be.

"The King of France," he was told, "the King of Poland, the

Voevode of Transylvania, the Pope, and the Doge of Venice."

That silenced the blunt Austrian, who realized the essential

truth of it. Ibrahim added ironically that all but one of these

princes were supreme heads of Europe. After a moment's

thought Hobordanacz changed his tone, but it did him no good.

His mission was an impossible one. During later conferences

with Ibrahim he had to admit that Ferdinand expected his

sovereignty to be acknowledged over all fortified places in Hun

gary, in return for an agreed peace.

"I am surprised," Ibrahim commented, "that he does not ask

for Constantinople as well."

The Germans made matters worse by suggesting that com

pensation would be paid Suleiman. Ibrahim, really angry, went

to a window and pointed out the ancient city wall. "Do you

see that wall? At the end of it there are the Seven Towers,

all of them filled with gold and treasure." As for offers, he

added, both Charles and Ferdinand seemed incapable of keep

ing faith.

Not until their dismissal did they go before Suleiman again.

And their dismissal was most ominous.

"Your master has not yet felt our neighborly friendliness,"

Suleiman informed them, "but he shall soon feel it. Tell him

plainly that I am coming in person with all my power to give

back to Hungary the fortified places that he demanded of me.

Tell him to make ready to receive me well."

Nor were the unfortunate Germans allowed to depart with

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their message. For a year they were kept confined, to meditate

upon their message, while the Turks prepared for war.

Suleiman had decided to remove Hungary entire from the

nascent middle Europe dominion of the Hapsburgs. The coun

try of the inviting prairies and lakes would become Magyar-

istan, the land of the Magyars, self -ruled tinder Suleiman's pro

tection and authority. He had waited long to make this decision.

A suitable ruler for the Hungarian state was at hand in John

Zapolya, who held the allegiance of the common folk.

Zapolya was acknowledged King of Hungary, freed from

paying any tribute in return for his armed supportand given

Gritti as a permanent envoy in Constantinople. "Tell your mas

ter," Suleiman informed him, "that now he can sleep with both

ears shut."

Road to Vienna

In the rain-drenched May of next spring, 1529, Suleiman

marched north to his first defeat.

The great moving encampment of the Turks threaded the

familiar roads, past the Roman ruins of Adrianople, up into the

mountain gorges, bridging its way, sometimes crossing floods

on walks laid over tree branches, swinging through the bare

Serbian valleys, sighting again its old frontier at the broad gray

sweep of the Danube. As before, the Army of Asia, the horse

men of Anatolia, Syria and the Caucasus, caught up with it and

fell in behind.

This time, however, there was a change. A division of Croats

came in from the western ranges, and was given a place in the

camp beside the contingents of Bulgars and Serbs. On the

familiar grassy plain of Mohacs, Zapolya appeared with 6000

Hungarians, and Ibrahim rode out to escort him in, to be

greeted as King and as ally of Suleiman. Another lord, Peter

Pereny, brought in the iron crown of Hungary. Beside these

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Hungarians Luigi Gritti pitched his tent. Few as they were

these men represented the nucleus of the nations that acknowl

edged Suleiman's rule from the Black Sea to Venice. Later Pau'

Verday appeared from Gran, with the keys of that strong city,

yielded by its archbishop.

Something rather surprising was taking place. Towns like

Szegedin and Stuhlweissenburg which the Hapsburgs had ex

pected to resist the Turks opened their gates to Suleiman's ad

vance detachments. And the Turkish asker marched under rigid

discipline, without looting, or damaging crops. Suleiman's diary

had a laconic entry one day: "A Spahi executed for grazing his

horse on growing crops."

Hungary was being protected as a land at peace. The great

army forged across the central plain without encountering re

sistance. There was no sign of Ferdinand or his court. The army

marched to Buda as quietly as if to Adrianople. Then Suleiman

made a proclamation^ to it. There would be a new Serasker or

Marshal of the Army, and he would be Ibrahim, the First Vizir,

the victor at Mohacs, already commander of the Army of

Europe.

More than that, the new Serasker might carry before him

a standard of five horsetails. His commands would be 'as the

commands of the Sultan. ". . . all my people, vizirs and peas

ants, shall hold all he says, or believes fit, as an order from my

mouth."

No Osmanli sultan had made such a gift of power to a min

ister before. Did Suleiman hope to efface himself still more, or

to share his popularity with his friend during a spectacular and

successful campaign? More probably, since Osmanli custom re

quired the Sultan to march at the head of his forces, he sought

to authorize Ibrahim as a commander at need.

Coming into Buda, he met resistance for the first time. A Ger

man garrison had been left there, and they made an attempt to

defend the citadel, but surrendered in four days. For the next

day the diary has the entry: "Sale of slaves."

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LANDS OF WAR

At Buda news from the west reached Suleiman. Ferdinand

was far away at a German Diet endeavoring to raise troops for

the defense of Vienna. And in Italy the unpredictable French

King had signed a treaty of peace with his supposed foe, the

German Emperor. This peace of Cambrai had been agreed on

only a month before, after Charles had heard that Suleiman

had started north to the Danube. Charles, aware of the danger

in the east, had granted the unfortunate Francis speedy and

easy terms. On his part Francis had agreed to furnish aid in

resisting the Turks!

What Suleiman thought of this about-face of his pledged

ally is not on record. He went hunting for two days, while Za-

polya was installed in his new palace. Then he started with the

Turkish army up the highroad along the Danube toward

Vienna.

He went fast. Leaving the heavy artillery at Buda, his army

pressed on, ignoring harassing attacks in the Austrian hills and

bombardment from the guns of Pressburg, covering a hundred

and seventy miles by road and river to the wooded suburbs of

Vienna in a week.

The Kdrtnertor

The siege of Vienna by Suleiman in the autumn of 1529 has

become a landmark of history. It has been said so of^en that the

invasion of the Osmanli Turks reached as far as Vienna in that

year and was stopped there by the siege.

The most remarkable thing about this "siege of Vienna" is

that it never took place. What did occur there on the Danube

in that late September was an odd battle which did not at all

stop the Turkish expansion. To realize that, consider what hap

pened day by day.

Suleiman, remember, was making forced marches out of Hun-

gary into Austria (a Land of War) with an army mounted for

125

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the most part on horses. The horses could no longer graze on

frost-blighted pastures; forage had to be provided. Both men

and horses were on short rations by then.

Turn to the diary.

September 21. "Citadel of Istergrad [Pressburg they were

passing it under fire]. Difficult stage. Infidels harass the army

with continued fire [Austrian detachments firing from the hills

along the road]/'

September 22. "The army passes three rivers and crosses

numerous swamps, At Altenburg we reach the Hungarian

frontier. The army enters enemy territory where it finds sup

plies in abundance/'

Once on Austrian soil, the light horsemen are loosed to gather

in the all-important forage, supplies, and to ravage the valley

hamlets. Some of them penetrate to the forests around Vienna

and engage the Christian cavalry.

Suleiman learns that Ferdinand may or may not be in Vienna,

but a sizable army is certainly there. He presses on.

In 1529 Vienna was a small city. The castles of the Margraves

had not grown into the great Hofburg of later days. It was really

pretty much a city of churches and monasteries, grouped

around the beloved spire of St. Stefan's, occupying the ground

now enclosed by the inner "Ring" and backed against the broad

Danube. The wall, except for some of the gates, remained the

high narrow city wall of medieval times unlike the bastioned

fortifications of Rhodes.

The large southern gate, on the side away from the river (and

the modern Prater park) the Kartnertor, with the nunnery of

Santa Clara just inside it led toward Schonbrunn village, and

had been fortified.

Vienna was then the capital city of its Archduke, Ferdinand,

who had retired prudently to Spires. His brother the Emperor

also remained far away in Italy, sending only 700 veteran Span

ish cavalry to Vienna. The Diet at Spires named a certain Elec-

126

LANDS OF WAR

tor Palatine to be commander at Vienna, who was hardly heard

from during the action.

The officers who actually led the defense of Vienna were the

experienced Marshal of Austria, William von Rogendorf, and

a captain, Nicholas Count of Salm, a veteran of Pavia. They had

mobilized a serviceable force of 16,000, mostly professional

soldiery, and had also the Spaniards and detachments of volun

teer knights, with the Burgher guard of the city to put out fires

and repair battle damages. An earth rampart had been raised

inside the brittle outer wall. All boats along the river had been

sunk and the bridges readied for demolition.

At Vienna, for the first time, Suleiman was faced by well-

armed Christian forces, German-led and -disciplined. His ap

proach was very rapid. On the twenty-third, Turkish cavalry

began to drive in the Christian outposts. By the twenty-sixth,

the main Turkish army was quartered opposite the southern

wall, with the cavalry withdrawn along the Wiener Wald

(across the small Wiener stream). Suleiman's own camp was

close behind the Serasker's, opposite the Kartnertor.

On the twenty-seyenth the first of the Turkish flotilla arrived

up the Danube, after passing through the barrage at Pressburg.

It was used to cut communication between the city and the

north bank of the river. Farther to the north Austrian reinforce

ments were coming in, but they kept their distance. Meanwhile

the Turkish light horsemen were fanning out at speed through

lower Austria.

By then Salm and Rogendorf had withdrawn all their forces

into the city wall, but they had no intention of staying there.

By then, or very soon, Suleiman had obtained information from

a prisoner that Ferdinand was not with his army in Vienna,

But he was not yet certain of that.

His Turks sent a message of greeting to the Austrians: "On

the third day we will eat breakfast within your walls."

As soon as they came up, Turkish engineers started to push

trenches toward the Kartnertor wall, and to move guns tip

127

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

through the trenches. The defending captains, surprised that

the city was not invested as a whole, puzzled by the fact that

the Turkish encampment was only visible in the south, decided

to sally out, to sweep away the Turkish engineers and their

works.

What happened in the next twelve days is clear in the Sul

tan's diary and the accounts of the Viennese.

September 29. "The unbelievers make an attack but are

driven back as soon as the cavalry mounts to the saddle."

(They sallied out on the east side, by the Stuben gateway,

across the Weiner Bach, 2500 of them, and circled around to

the Kartnertor, demolishing trenches on the way, and almost

capturing Ibrahim, escaping the counterattack of the Turkish

horse from the Wiener Wald. )

By October 1 some of the Turkish guns which, being only

light pieces, have to be advanced close to the wall are firing.

October 2. "The Bey of Semendria drives back a sortie, killing

thirty men and taking ten prisoners."

(The Turkish infantry begins a covering fire from arque

buses, while the real work is undertaken, the shafts of two mines

being started toward the Kartnertor wall. The diary records the

wounding of janizaris in the trenches and cannon balls from

the walls falling in the tents near Suleiman. The Austrians de

tect the mine shafts and blow them in; others are started at once

toward the gate. Salm sends out a message to the Turks: "Your

breakfast is getting cold by now."

October 6. "Attack by the besieged. Five hundred of our men

are killed, the Alaibey of Gustendil among them."

( This is a major attack by the Austrians, 8000 strong, emerg

ing on the river side and sweeping around more than half the

circuit of Vienna, to demolish the Turkish works; but this time it

is caught by a counterattack and pinned against the Kartnertor

where the rearmost Austrian regiments, unable to make their

way through the narrow entry, fall into disorder and are cut up.

The garrison does not risk another sally.)

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LANDS OF WAR

October 7. "Mining and cannonading continue. We hear that

all the grandees of the kingdom are united inside the walls ."

October 8. "Arrival of several fugitives from the city. All

pashas and commanders remain afoot that night, expecting an

other sortie."

October 9. "Our two mines are exploded. Assaults fail at the

two breaches. Heavy fighting, especially on the sector of the

Pasha of Semendria."

(This is the attempt of the Turks to break through the wall to

get at the army inside. The Austrians, prepared for it, have

inner defenses of beams and wooden shields ready to set in

place, and they hold the breaks in the wall.)

October 10. "The Vizir presents himself before the Sultan.

At his departure all the commanders accompany him/'

( Suleiman does not record it, but at this conference of com

manders he gave the order to retire from Vienna and begin the

long march of more than seven hundred .miles back to Con

stantinople. Autumn cold is setting in, forage is scanty for the

vital horse herds which must be preserved during the march

homeward; the foraging akinjis are coming in with what they

could glean from the countryside. Only too clearly, Suleiman

remembers the cold, the sickness and hunger of the months of

the siege of Rhodes. Here in the heart of Europe, he will not risk

a repetition of the ordeal. Apparently many commanders agree,

but Ibrahim does not, and others support the new Serasker.

They have the viewpoint of field commanders, that an action

begun must be carried out; they have the superior force, and

it can only be a matter of time before the old-fashioned wall

of Vienna is demolished. . . . Certainly this wall cannot hold

as long as the great ramparts of Rhodes. . . . Against such

arguments the officers who favor breaking off the engagement

point out that the Viennese have an earth rampart raised inside

the brittle outer wall that the fugitives from the city have given

definite information that the Archduke is not in his city that

winter will set in within a few days, blocking the mountain

129

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

passes with snow, and endangering the flotilla on the river . . .

they have stayed too long as it is. )

Suleiman makes the decision to retreat. But as often happens

in such situations, he agrees to a compromise. One more assault

will be tried, before leaving.

Probably the pashas and aghas at the conference are ordered

not to speak of the decision to withdraw from Vienna; but the

news leaks out, or the veteran troops sense that they are pulling

out.

For two days work is pushed on new mine shafts. The Al

banian regiments probe at a fresh narrow breach, losing two

hundred men. Suleiman and Ibrahim go up to inspect the wall,

discarding their distinctive head ornaments and putting on

woolen kaftan hoods to do so. The janizaris are promised a bo

nus of about twenty ducats eacha rich fief and promotion to

the soldier first over the defenses.

On October 13 the trial assault is made, and fails completely.

Nicholas of Salm and Rogendorf are ready for it with cannon

placed at a barrier of wine tuns filled with earth and stones. The

German professional infantry holds confidently and well. On the

other hand, the storming forces have no heart; officers are seen

beating men with the flat of sabers. By three o'clock in the

afternoon the last efforts are at an end. The Turkish askeris, who

know the army is to retreat, will not go forward with the officers.

At midnight great fires rise along the Turkish lines where sur

plus stores and huts are burned.

The defenders on the walls of Vienna hear long-drawn outcry

where adult captives are being killed the younger ones are

spared to be taken off.

Retreat

Volleys of cannon and a tocsin of church bells sounded in

rejoicing from the walls of Vienna. Hearing it, Ibrahim asked

a prisoner of war, the standard-bearer Zedlitz, what the noise

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LANDS OF WAR

meant. The Austrian explained that it was rejoicing. After being

given a silk robe of honor, he was sent in to arrange for the ex

change of prisoners, as the Turks began their march out the

next day. Oddly enough some of the Christian soldiers who

were sent back caused suspicion in the excited town because

they had been given money by the Turks, which they proceeded

to spend promptly in the taverns. For a while they were in dan

ger of hanging as renegades or spies. Only three Turks were re

turned from the town.

The letter given Zedlitz to take in (written by Ibrahim in bad

Italian) had in it an explanation of their leaving. "I, Ibrahim

Pasha . . . generalissimo of the army, to you, noble and

spirited captains . . . Know that we did not come here to cap

ture your town but to give battle to your Archduke. That is

what made us lose so many days here, without being able to

come up with him. . . ."

Although the Turks had been seen to load their artillery and

heavy stores on their Danube flotilla, and to evacuate their

lines after the exchange of prisoners of war, there seems to have

been doubt in Vienna as to whether they were not waiting in

ambush behind the Wiener Wald. Some of the returned prison

ers were actually tortured to discover if that were not the case.

Naturally, under torture, they confessed that it was.

The next day, October 17, snow began to fall. Cavalry de

tachments brought back word that the Turks had gone. Where

upon the soldiery, the arquebusiers and Landsknechts, who had

defended the wall so stoutly, took over the town, ignoring their

officers and threatening to loot Vienna if they were not paid a

"threefold gratuity."

For the first time the official commander of the city, the

Count Palatine, appears in the records. He appeased the Ger

man infantry by pledging payment of a "twofold gratuity" as

soon as the money could be raised by the Archduke and the

Emperor.

The forays of the Turkish light horse caused consternation

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

throughout the Empire. The flying columns had cut a wide

swath during the twenty days that the army had been across

the border. They had reached the environs of Ratisbon, and

gained the river Inn. From the foot of the Khalenberg to the

castle of Lichtenstein, the countryside had burned. The fords

of the river Inn had been held by John Starhemberg, but the

speeding horsemen had overrun Brunn, Enzersdorf , Baden and

Klosterneuburg. Here and there German troops had defended

themselves in mills and castles; the length of the Danube had

become a swift-moving battlefield; the Styrian mountains had

been devastated. Captives had been taken by the thousand. No

count was ever made of the victims, but the chroniclers speak of

ten to twenty thousand.

In Cologne the chronicle of Brief World Happenings relates

of 1529 that it was a year "most grievous and full of calamity

for the Germans. The Turks broke in savagely. . . "

Perhaps Hobordanacz and his lord, Ferdinand, had reason to

remember at the end of it what Suleiman had promised to do

the year before. As he said he would, he had given back to Hun

gary the twenty-seven fortified towns that Ferdinand had

named as a condition of peace; he had installed another ruler in

Ferdinand's place; he had visited Austria in person. He had

tried for fourteen days to break into Vienna, to get at the army

inside.

He had been turned back at Vienna only by the skill and

courage of two men, Nicholas of Salm and William von Rogen-

dorf, as Ibrahim acknowledged. Nonetheless, he had been de

feated. The Osmanli armies, victorious for seventeen years, had

been checked. It is doubtful if Suleiman was much concerned

about the battle of Vienna. But as Sultan and son of Selim, he

felt the loss of prestige keenly.

He rewarded the janizaris as he had promised, and made a

gift to two thousand ducats to "the son of the Doge of Venice"

(Gritti). And he sent Gritti with the Hungarian officers to

crown Johnny ("Yanush"), as they began to call John Zapolya,

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LANDS OF WAR

with the iron crown of Hungary. Then they raced home against

the coming of winter.

His diary, casual at Vienna, shows distress during that six-

hundred-mile march over mountain passes and flooding rivers

under the lash of snow and hail. "Today, again the army loses a

quantity of baggage . . . we leave behind a great number of

horses in the swamps; many men die ... the Sultan, angry at

the Agha of Messengers and the Chief of Supply, reduces their

fiefs; many soldiers are dying of hunger . . . forced march

. . . many transport animals lost ... a measure of grain sells

for five thousand aspers . . . forced march with horses dying

as before ... a great portion of the baggage lost in crossing

the Danube . . . severe rains . . . we enter into deep

snow. . . ."

Although the armies scattered to take different routes, once

the Danube was left behind, Suleiman remained with his own

troops. Reading between the lines of the diary, we realize that

he stormed at commanding officers, issued grain to the men in

the ranks, coaxed the immense column along, and brought it

safely in mid-December to Constantinople.

As at Rhodes, this winter march home through the Balkans

left an indelible impression on him. After Rhodes he no longer

believed in war as a weapon to be used; after the retreat from

Vienna, he revolted against the pageantry of warfare.

Only once thereafter did he lead the Turkish asker to the pro

longed siege of a city, and that was when he was dying.

The attack on Vienna aroused the European courts as noth

ing else had done. Luther prayed publicly -for deliverance from

the "terror of the Turks." Suspending his polemics against the

papacy, he wrote as in duty bound his De Bello Turcica, ac

knowledging the Turks to be the true enemies of God.

Suleiman had been gone for months when Charles V visited

the German portion of his inchoate Empire for the first time in

133 '

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

nine years. After paying the ransom of Vienna to the troops that

had defended it, he learned the price the Austrian countryside

had paid the ravaging Turkish horsemen. He had just been

crowned as Emperor by the Pope at Bologna, he was expected

to play the role of defender of Christendom, and that particular

part of Christendom fully expected the Turks to return in the

next year.

Behind this greatest of the Hapsburgs his archantagonist

Francis I while muting down his own accord with the Turks-

gave money and aid to the league of German nobles supporting

the Reformation against Charles. Francis even tried to strike

up an alliance with John Zapolya, friend of the Turks in eastern

Hungary, while Ferdinand nagged his brother for money and

troops to carry the war against Suleiman into Hungary. (Fer

dinand had just been given a, new title, "King of the Romans/')

The Reformation was spreading. In Bavaria the Wittelsbachs

prayed openly for the victory of Zapolya.

Thus bedeviled, Charles saw very clearly the only way out

of his troubles. Since he could have no truce with the forces of

the Reformation, he must have a truce with the Turk.

So early in 1530 Europe witnessed the strange spectacle of

the victors at Vienna sending envoys to the man who by all

official accounts had been vanquished, to ask for terms. Charles

acted wisely. Unfortunately his prestige as Emperor would

suffer if he the defender of the Christian Commonwealth-

should sue for peace with the Turks. The envoys, then, were

sent by Ferdinand, and the younger Hapsburg liad an amazing

knack of doing the wrong thing at the most critical time. His

envoys had been ordered to speak only in German in presenting

Ferdinand's conditions, which were: recognition as King of

Hungary, possession of Buda (then held for Zapolya by a Turk

ish garrison) and the other large towns. In return the emissaries

were to offer to bribe Ibrahim, and to pay Suleiman a "pension."

Nothing could have been better calculated to defeat the pur

pose of the elder Hapsburg, and to anger the Turks. These had

134

LANDS OF WAR

by then a new name for the King of the Romans. It was simply

Ferdinand.

When Ferdinand's spokesmen had been conducted past a line

of tame, roaring lions and a full turnout of the janizaris, Ibrahim

gave them a display of his virtuosity. "You say that your mas

ters," he retorted, laughing, "the King of Spain and Ferdinand,

have come to a truce with the Pope. It does not seem to us to Be

such a sincere truce, after your armies pillaged the Holy City

and made the Pope himself a prisoner ... as to Ferdinand,

who would like to be King of Hungary, when we came to seek

him at Buda, we did not find him. We went on to Vienna. It is

a beautiful city, well worthy of being the capital of an empire,

but we did not find its Archduke there. The Sultan, my master,

left marks upon the walls as evidence that he had visited it. We

did not come to conquer but to overrun the country of Austria.

The akinjis galloped through it to show that the real emperor

had appeared. . . . Where does Ferdinand keep himself? , . .

You say he will return to Hungary, but that is not likely when

his own troops like the Bavarians refuse to follow him thither

they prefer Johnny Zapolya as King. No, Ferdinand knows

tricks enough, yet he does not show the qualities of a king. How

can a man be king unless he keeps his word?"

Anxious as he was to come to agreement with Charles, Sulei

man refused to disown Johnny Zapolya, or to give up Buda. The

Hungarians did not belong to the Hapsburg empire. He would

hear no argument about that.

The odd thing about this peace mission is that the Europeans

sought for Suleiman's word, which they knew would guarantee

a truce. The vital thing is that Suleiman and Charles were kept

at a war they both wished to avoid. The duel imposed on them

was to last until the death of Charles in a Spanish monastery

near a coast terrorized by Turkish raids.

The mission from the Hapsburgs had one effect. It restored

the prestige of the Turkish Sultan. The Hapsburgs had sued for

peace after Vienna and had been refused.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Evidence of the Hippodrome

Unmistakably the Sultan of the Osmanlis was glad to return

from the European war to his family and his people. As he

had seized three years of quiet after Mohacs, he surprised the

Europeans by doing the same after Vienna. Not without much

truth had Ibrahim declared to the objectionable Hobordanacz,

"The Lord of the Two Worlds has more important matters to

attend to than you/*

At the beginning of summer, 1530, when the judas trees and

magnolias flamed along the Bosphorus, Suleiman staged his

second festival of the new Constantinople. This time he thought

or Ibrahim did of some displays, which the European specta

tors found grotesque, but which pleased the Turks. Trophies,

including the three notorious statues from the Buda palace,

were paraded around the Hippodrome.

The gifts brought to Suleiman, as he sat on his gold throne

of ceremony, were costly enough, but were also products of his

vast country cotton stuffs from Egypt, "damask" cloth from

Damascus in Syria, "muslins" from Mosul workshops, along with

silver plate and cloth of gold set with jewels, crystal bowls and

basins of lapis lazuli.

There were imports too. Suleiman's favorite Chinese porce

lain, furs from Muscovy and the Krim Tatars, Arabian pacing

horses, Turkoman mustangs, "mameluke" slaves from upper

Egypt, black boys from Ethiopia.

Each day of the festival revealed a different spectacle to the

watching throngs. Battle exercises staged the storming of

wooden forts and the jousting of Mameluke and Turkish riders;

acrobats swarmed up the ancient obelisk and walked tightropes

stretched from the summit of the obelisk. Melody swept the

arena, from the skirling bagpipes of the Croats, from gypsy

flutes and the cymbals and bell-staffs of the janizaris.

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LANDS OF WAR

One day they brought Piri Pasha out from his garden to sit

beside the Sultan, now in the prime of life.

"Do you think/' Suleiman asked his former Vizir, "that the

hope you had ten years since has become reality?"

The aged recluse was confused by the crowd and the sight

of such great riches. "Your father Selim, upon whom be the

blessing of the Almighty, never beheld such splendor in his

camps. It is well. Here you receive the gifts of the world, and

in turn you make gifts to all the world."

The weak eyes of the old courtier caught only the colors of

pavilions, the flutter of banners, the gleam of cloth of gold

spread beneath the Throne of Felicity by which he sat. He did

not see the two foreigners who sat apart in drab garments for

the green of the Moslem faith, the white of the Sultan s rank,

the blue and yellow of the janizaris, and the red in the panta

loons of the spahis were all forbidden to foreigners, whether

Christians or Jews.

Suleiman noticed them, because they were only two, Luigi

Gritti and Mocenigo. To this festival he had invited Francis I

and the Doge of the Illustrious Signory to come in person; yet

Francis had excused himself, promising that some other time

when he made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land he would visit the

court of the great Sultan (a promise he never kept). The Doge,

Andrea Gritti, father of Luigi, had sent gifts by the hand of an

envoy extraordinary, Mocenigo. It hurt Suleiman s pride that of

all the reigning princes of Europe who sought aid or alliance

from him, not one had been willing to be his guest. In truth, he

had not been taken into their brotherhood. The reason for that

he could suspect. In their eyes he stood alone, a pagan. In him,

the Grand Turk, they believed the teaching of the Prophet to be

centered, and accordingly the wiles of Satan. Sometimes he

wondered if Francis or Charles had ever spoken face to face

with a Moslem, as he had done with so many Christians

Lifting his eyes, he watched sails moving over the blue water

of Marmora. Greek fishing luggers coming in, Venetian galleons

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

anchored where some boys swam and a fast caique speeding by

they were all at home in his waters. Beside him the robed

Mufti listened with closed eyes to the vibrant voice of a Koran

reciter. The voice sang and rose in ecstasy, echoing through the

arena. The young reciter, sweating in his effort, lifted his

clasped hands. Then he caught at his chest and fell to his knees,

his voice failing.

"Corpo di Dio what struck him down?" Mocenigo asked

softly. "A dagger thrown?"

Gritti shook his head. "His own effort. Probably the boy

fasted the night to gain intensity for this hour. It is their Pater

Noster he was chanting/'

Gritti had managed to reward himself richly by his service

to Ibrahim, who in turn seemed to have the gift of coining into

gold every transaction that passed under his hand. While Ibra

him's choice of display ran to liveried servants, splendid stables,

jewels and gold embroidery worked into saddlery, and cos

tumes that copied Suleiman's ("His master refuses him noth

ing/' Gritti assured his companion), Gritti had enlarged his

mansion and his stock of the finest precious stones, which could

be packed into a girdle wallet and sold on any market. In spite

of the power he wielded now, the son of the Doge had an un

easy feeling that he tempted fate with each year that he stayed

serving Venetians and Turks as go-between. "Their dervishes

dance and pray, both," he mused. "At least, they do so when

the spirit seizes them. . . . Has Your Magnificence noticed this

intensity in. them?"

"I have been more struck by their silence. In their mosques

a silence falls on them like a plague of meditation."

"Silence can mask the fever heat of thought. A panther

moves silently until it strikes. It is your garrulous man who is

harmless as a braying donkey. And their new mosques, each

huger than the last, with giant columns of stone thrusting up

through the dimness of light from colored glass, to the golden

circle of the dome are they not prayers in stone, speaking ever

louder?"

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LANDS OF WAR

Murmuring polite assent, Mocenigo wondered. It was strange

that these Turks should erect great buildings only for the dead

or for prayer. "Is there then a cult of the dead here, that they

serve it in such fashion?" What concerned him at the moment

was that these same mystical Turks had put a tax of ten per-

centum on Venetian imports for the Mocenigos, like the

equally noted Cornaros and Grittis, were deeply involved in

Venetian trade as well as policy, What disturbed him was that

Luigi Gritti had only skepticism for the latest overture from

Paris Francis had urged that the Serene Republic join the alli

ance against the Hapsburgs' empire, and had guaranteed in

that event the good will of the Turks, through his own offices.

That and the city of Cremona, which had once been a posses

sion of the Mocenigos. Cremona and the Po Valley a tempting

price. Very tempting, and safe to take. Yet Grittfs warped mind

perceived danger in it, because said he the Turks now dis

trusted Francis whom they praised, and held in regard Charles

whom they mocked. Of course a truce between the Emperor

and the Turk would be disastrous to the French alliance

"Haven't we Venetians our own cult of the dead?" Gritti de

manded suddenly. "Our palaces and pageantry, our paintings-

are they not memories of what is dead, that we would restore?

Can we bring back a grandeur that is lost? We who have be

come merchants, carrying trade in our ships?" With sudden

feeling, he cried, "We must remain merchants and Venetians,

nothing else."

Silently the envoy decided that the renegade sought to keep

Venice neutral in the coming war. Idly he echoed, "Nothing?

The word falls strangely upon my ear, spoken by the Dragoman

of the Porte!"

Gritti grew pale with anger, and restrained himself when he

caught the flicker of the other's smile. "Then will Your Magnifi

cence hear another word? Our city," he said slowly, "must never

be drawn into war against the Turk"

Mocenigo nodded, understanding perfectly that conflict be-

13ft

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

tween the Republic and the Sultan would be the downfall of

Luigi Gritti, who had feathered his nest so nicely here. "It will

be my privilege to bear your message to your illustrious father.

Corpo di Dio, are we such fools as to oppose the will of your

Sultan?" Curiously he glanced at the bizarre tent where a hand

some, silent man waited patiently for a boy reader to recover

from a faint and go on with the infidel chant. "I shall tell your

father of Suleiman's magnificence/*

Gritti had wanted to journey back with Mocenigo to the

embarcadero of Venice. By now he had jewels worth a quarter

of a million ducats hoarded away. But the other's amused con

tempt made it impossible for him to do so

Again the boy's voice rose in the chant from the Koran:

". . . and say not with a lie upon your tongue, this is lawful and

that is forbidden, for so will ye invent a lie concerning God. And

they who invent a lie upon God shall not prosper. . . "

The voice drew Suleiman's mind toward it. He shared in it,

and in the meditation of the Mufti at his side; he did not sit

apart from them as from the Europeans, who said one thing and

willed another. How long had he tried with Ibrahim's aid to

educate the best of his people to become part of the brother

hood of Europe? Yet wherein lay that brotherhood?

Although he showed no sign of it, the slow-reasoning Osmanli

was losing faith in the Europeans, who came to him only with

words of war or prices of trade. He had agreed readily to what

his friends asked. But were they truly his friends? And could he

trust even Ibrahim?

He gave no sign of it but from that time he began to put his

confidence in a woman who was also a foreigner born.

End of the Three Gentle Souls

Suleiman's excuse for the festival had been the circumcision

of Roxelana's two sons, growing from childhood to boyhood,

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LANDS OF WAR

Selim and Bayazid. For those few days the shy boys joined their

father, becoming the center of the rejoicing of the people.

After that the Ayin required them to be confined with tutors

in the harem of the old palace. There they played around the

fountain in the courtyard of the Sultan Valideh. Although ail

ing to death, Suleiman's mother still dominated her world of

women. Confined to her sleeping mattress of velvet, hung about

with tissue of gold, Hafiza gave her orders after sunrise daily

to the Captain of the Girls, the Mistress of the Rooms, and the

Head Nurse. Roxelana she almost never saw. Yet she had formed

her own opinion about the two sons of the Russian woman.

"Selim snares birds with lime, and he is secretive, hiding things

from me. He is slight but pudgy, silent but willful."

Feeling death near her, Hafiza dared speak openly to Sulei

man. "In acts as in looks, he resembles his mother the Khasseki

Khurrem. Now Bayazid is both gentle and clever. His face and

his spirit bear your image."

As usual, Suleiman listened without comment. "Paradise lies

at a mother's feet/'

Hafiza, however, was not to be diverted. "Ai, you say nothing

of a mother's sharp tongue. Well, I will warn you. Do not forget

my words. Trust Bayazid. Be kind to Selim, and take care that

he does not fear you as I think he does now. But never trust

him."

Evidently Hafiza assumed that Suleiman's sons would grow

to maturity unharmed. Because the eldest was Mustafa, her

favorite, who had been taken from the harem for training, she

did not mention him.

Hafiza as well as Suleiman knew that Gulbehar's boy had

grown in popular favor. Mustafa seldom looked at his books;

he liked better to talk with his elders, and he made friends

readily. He had his father's instinctive skill with sword or horse

or in the water. Often enough he came into his camp with his

head bruised from the wooden javelins thrown in sport on horse

back. Tall and active himself, he never shirked injury. The men

141

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

of the pen who taught Mustafa logic reported that he showed

the true Osmanli traits of endurance, and leadership in strife.

It pleased Hafiza that Mustafa had been given the govern

ment of Magnisiya, which had been Suleiman's before he came

to the throne. This seemed to make certain that Mustafa would

be his father s heir, by Suleiman's determination as well as by

old custom. Hitherto nothing had been able to alter what the

Sultan had determined to be.

Like a shadow Roxelana's youngest son drifted between

Mustafa's court at Magnisiya and the palace at Constantinople.

Sickly and a hunchback, Jahangir was morbidly attached to the

healthy Mustafa. And of all the boys, he was Suleiman's fav

orite.

Then the Sultan Valideh died. For three days Suleiman

mourned, clad in dark garments torn from throat to skirt, fasting,

commanding the splendid rugs of his palace to be taken up, and

the ornaments turned to the walls. No music was heard in the

streets of the city.

Suleiman was thirty-nine years old, in the fullness of his

strength. Probably, so deeply was he obsessed with Roxelana,

he could not perceive how greatly his household changed. For

one thing his mother had been the last member of the trio that

held to the old ways with the gentle Piri Pasha, and the un

thinking Gulbehar. Then, too, Gulbehar should have occupied

the apartment of the Sultan Valideh. But she chose to stay with

Mustafa at Magnisiya. That left Suleiman to the companion-

*ship of his two intimates, the dynamic Ibrahim and the re

sourceful Roxelana.

Outwardly the Russian woman made no attempt to influence

Suleiman, or to challenge the primacy of Gulbehar, his first

love. She seemed to take Mustafa's right to inherit for granted.

For Suleiman, sensitive to influence, was adamant in matters of

justice. Surprisingly to the black Captain of the Girls and the

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LANDS OF WAR

observant attendants, Roxelana gave little heed to her own

boys, devoting herself to Suleiman.

Yet by degrees she managed to accompany him out of the

cloistered harem, sometimes following his horse to reviews and

to Friday prayers in her closed carriage, sometimes joining him

disguised when he ventured out in the excursions he enjoyed

so much on the water. Suleiman would let the loose folds of his

turban down over his forehead, to sit by her in the cabined stern

of the swift rowing barge. In this fashion they went up the

Bosphorus to the Sweet Waters, or across to the cedar-grown

cemeteries of the Chamlija.

Within the harem also a change took place. Roxelana's

temper showed when, as happened rarely now, a new girl came

into the eye of the Sultan. Then the Khasseki Khurrem had a

way of taking such an attractive woman into her own service, so

that Suleiman would meet the other only in her presence. By de

grees the eunuch was certain that his master took enjoyment

from no other woman.

Hitherto Hafiza had watched over every member of her con

fined world. Now there was no mistress of the harem. Roxelana,

still Second Kadin, might be the favorite, but she had authority

only when Suleiman spoke for her.

Since he did not call the other kadins to him, they remained

in their quarters as pensioners, still clad in the special garments

of those chosen for the Sultan's bed. Since Roxelana disliked

them, they were friendless. It was not hard for the Russian to

persuade him, as if in kindness, to give them away in marriage

to deserving officers of the spahis or the palace guard.

When that happened Roxelana reminded Suleiman that her

own position was becoming unendurable. Those others had be

come wives, with privileges and property of their own. She,

virtually the wife of the Sultan, remained in the eyes of her own

servitors no more than a slave. Was not that unjust?

The careful Venetians, who had begun to pay close attention

to rumors about Roxelana in the harem, took note of her new

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

influence over Suleiman. "He loves her so much and keeps faith

so with her that it astonishes his people. They say that she has

become a witch, using her power over him. Because of that the

army and the court also hate her and her children; but because

he loves her so greatly, no one dares protest/'

By tradition, for six generations, no Osmanli sultan had taken

an acknowledged wife. But Roxelana knew that Suleiman

would not hesitate to break with tradition. In the end he did so.

It was done quietly, in the palace. Before a judge of the Law,

Suleiman touched the hand of the veiled Roxelana, and testi

fied, "This woman, Khurrem, I set free from slavery, and make

her a wife. All that belongs to her shall be her property."

Apparently those close to Suleiman would not speak of the

marriage to foreigners. But he gave a feast afterward, and ob

servers of the bank of St. George, of Genoa, have left this record

of it. "This week took place in the city an event without

precedent in the annals of previous sultans. The Grand Signior

took to himself as Empress a slave woman from Russia called

Roxelana, and great feasting followed ... at night the streets

are illuminated, with music played, and wreaths hung from

balconies. In the old Hippodrome a stand was set up with

gilded latticework to screen the Empress and her ladies while

they watched riding and tournament of riders, both Christian

and Moslem, as well as jugglers and trainee! beasts including

giraffes with necks that reached to the sky/'

So while the absent Gulbehar remained the Sultan Valideh-

to-be, Roxelana had made herself Suleiman's acknowledged

consort. Again, she exerted herself to draw Suleiman's attention

toward her old homeland of the north, in the mAntains of

Hungary.

The Utopia of 1SS1

Suleiman had no least desire to return to Hungary, where the

embers of war smoldered. Yet precisely at this time the Euro-

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LANDS OF WAR

peans expected him to do so. More and more they kept their

eyes on him through the eyes of their spies and in their

thoughts he appeared to be the dangerous and dynamic head

of the Moslem east. Was he not successor to the kalifs, armed

champions of that archfiend Mahomet? Were not his Turks a

new incarnation of the Saracens who had captured Jerusalem

from the crusaders? Even Luther said so, now.

Did not ambassadors who had stood before his throne return

home to repeat what they had heard: "Where the hoofs of the

Sultan's horse have trod, there the land is his forever?"

In the bitterness of religious antagonism the European courts

and universities conceived of the Grand Turk only as a con

queror riding forever against them. Unlike the Croats and

Hungarians, they had never met with Turks in the flesh. There

was no Raymond Lull at that time, to tell them what the Turks

were like. The mingled culture of Moslem Spain, of Andalusia,

that had created the beautiful Granada, was being obliterated.

The Moors were being driven out, across the sea to Africa. Some

took refuge under Suleiman.

His dream, that where the hoofs of his horse had trod there

could be peace, was becoming impossible to realize. He still had

hope for it.

Perhaps there was no way to blend the cultures of the east

and west in his generation of Turks. But could there not be a

Turkish culture, standing alone yet respected by Europeans and

Asiatics alike? His city at the junction of the seas and the lands

could it not be filled with a population of uprooted people

who would owe nothing to and claim nothing from the other

peoples of east and west? Like the queen city of Alexandria

planned and built by the great Alexander?

Suleiman thought only of finished practical things. A dwelling

was a shelter against rain and cold, for a family. He ordered

his architects to tear down fortification walls to build aque

ducts. He desired a new, Turkish design. Must mosques always

be built as the Byzantines had designed the Aya Sofia? Must the

145

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

practice of religion always follow the rules of the Koraish, the

Arab clan that had once followed Muhammad the Prophet?

Must literature always be Persian?

In those years of his glory he was called Suleiman the Mag

nificent, and the Grand Turk. Visitors caught the flash of jewels

in the floss silk of his turbans, and harkened to Ibrahim's boasts

of treasure piled up in the Seven Towers. Yet what he was striv

ing for with silent determination, few of them saw.

It was not much of a utopia. It had no visible acropolis, or

any favored class of nobility. It protected only the home dwell

ers. One of them might own a stone hut, a field of grapevines or

cherry trees with a small sheep herd. Such a family man paid

in taxes the value of one ducat each year for his house, and one

asper for each two head of sheep. (The rough equivalent in

modern money of five dollars for his real estate, and one dime

for two sheep. ) He sent his children to the mosque school to

learn to read the Koran, and he took cases for judgment to the

village kadi or religious judge.

From that moderate household tax came the chief revenue of

Suleiman's Treasury. Beyond that, there was also a regular tax

on undertakings, such as metal mines and salt mines, customs

paid by foreign merchants, and fees for drawing documents.

Some tribute came in from the outer provinces like Greece

proper or Syria, and especially Egypt. Even the Venetians paid

a token tribute of 30,000 ducats. All in all the revenues totaled

4,100,000 ducats according to Yunis Bey, the head interpreter

of the Serai, or 6,000,000 in the opinion of the merchant Zeno.

Gritti said they were 4,000,000, but both he and Yunis Bey may

have meant the yearly expenditures of the Treasury. Certainly

all agree that Suleiman's Treasury took in more each year than

it paid out-perhaps 6,000,000 as against 4,000,000.

That was a very small revenue for a dominion as large as

western Europe beyond Venice. Moreover, it was fixed, by

custom. "What has been, will be," the saying ran. When Euro

peans saw the Sultan ride forth with the splendor of his entou-

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LANDS OF WAR

rage, they imagined vast riches under the hand of the Grand

Signior which did not exist. Suleiman protected 'first of all the

Turkish hearth.

"In all things the Turks are so great lovers of Order/' a

Frenchman related long afterward, "that they omit nothing to

observe it. Because economy and the regulation of provisions is

one of the chief things that serve to maintain it, they take a

special care of that, so all things are to be had in plenty and at

reasonable rates. They never sell cherries or other fruits when

they first come in at the weight of gold, as is done in this coun

try. ... If their officers who go the daily rounds find any man

with weights that are too light, or selling his goods too dear, he

would be soundly drubbed or else brought to Justice. So a child

may be sent to Market, for none dares cheat the child; and

sometimes the officers of the Market meeting a child will ask

what it paid for so much goods, and will weigh them to see if

the poor thing be cheated. I saw a man who sold ice at five

deniers the pound receive blows upon the soles of his feet. . . .

A man who sells at false weights may have his neck put into a

Pillory which he carries on his shoulders, being hung with little

bells to be laughed at by all who see and know him. . . .

"As to disorders and quarrels that happen in the streets,

everyone is obliged to hinder them. To prevent accidents in

the night-time all persons whatsoever are prohibited to be

abroad in the streets after dark, except it be in Ramadan.**

This sense of order and of responsibility for the individual

stemmed' down from Suleiman to a chief of the watch in a

frontier village. It was the peculiarity of his utopia that he made

moral law supersede kanun law. He could do this only by a

spoken decision, urf, which, being accepted, became a kanun

in time. At this time he was working with Ibrahim on a revision

of the Book of the Law of Egypt the most important of the

Asiatic territories. When the annual revenue from Egypt in

creased to 800,000 dinars, exceeding the established figure,

Suleiman directed that the increase be spent within Egypt, on

irrigation works.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

For these few years he achieved something extraordinary.

Under him more than with any previous sultan or monarch of

Europe his few servants in the Organization managed to bring

about the well-being of the multitudes whom he "fed and

led."

Suleiman, in spite of the magnificent appearance he pre

sented, kept up no costly establishment. The clothing he wore,

the thoroughbred horses he stabled and the festivals he gave

made up the bulk of his expenses. Otherwise, the very pages

who served him drew sustenance pay, and were in training for

posts of higher responsibility. The gifts he made to all who

sought him were compensated by gifts to him; the wealth ac

quired by beylerbeys and aghas escheated to the common

Treasury at their death.

Perhaps the most favored group beneath him were the spohi-

oghlans or Young Eiders, three thousand of them, who marched

always at his right hand. The Young Riders were given small

land holdings from which they had to provide five or six horses

and as many followers in time of war. They also were in train

ing for command. "They are great people," an observer relates.

"From them the Signer is wont to choose his chief men."

But the Young Riders were growing in number, as was Sulei

man's personal establishment. Beylerbeys and aghas began to

imitate the lavishness of their master, as well as the splendor of

his attire. To do so, they tended to draw more than sustenance,

especially from those beneath them.

Perhaps they envied Ibrahim too much. Elder men, men of

the pen, and judges of the religious Law complained that the

Vizir was taking to himself the authority of a second sultan.

They distrusted Ibrahim not so much because he had been a

Greek and a Christian most of the Organization had come

from Christian f amilies as because he kept the Greek statues of

Buda and took their Sultan to the home of an infidel, Gritti, and

because he went about in garments copied from the Sultan's.

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Such complaints Suleiman would not hear. He did hear the

frank acknowledgment of most Moslems: "Never had the Turks

such a sultan, or a sultan such a vizir."

Then came the case of Kabiz.

It was almost without precedent, for Kabiz had been a mem

ber of the ulema or interpreters of the sacred Law. By degrees

he had become convinced that the teachings of Jesus were

superior to those of Muhammad. (Moslem tradition held that

Jesus had taught the Word of God, as a Prophet; but to a lesser

extent than Muhammad, who came after him. )

Summoned to trial for disbelief, Kabiz had been sentenced

to death by the judges of the army, on his own testimony, with

out argument as to whether he might be right or wrong in his

doctrine. Ibrahim, not satisfied with the sentence, had called

Kabiz before the Divan for a rehearing. In this hearing Ibrahim

argued and Suleiman listened to the argument that heresy

was not a crime in itself; it could only be tried as a doctrine

allowable or not, according to law.

Suleiman did not agree. "How is this?" he demanded of his

Vizir in public. "The offender against the Prophet is allowed

to go without punishment, and without an attempt to convince

him of his error."

Kabiz was brought before the Mufti and his old companions

of the ulema. After his new belief was argued in full, he was

sentenced to death by these judges of the religious Law.

Never throughout his life did Suleiman escape this conflict

between the civil rights of his people and the old Islamic tradi

tion. As supreme head of the religion he was called upon to up

hold the tradition, almost rigid, formed in the tribal stage of the

Arabs. As head of the administrative Organization he had to

decide upon the rights of individuals. And more than a third

of his people were Christians Armenians, Greeks, Georgians,

and many others. Kabiz's guilt lay not in affirming the teaching

of Jesus but in denying the base of Moslem tradition, when he

had been an interpreter of that tradition.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

A greater matter Suleiman decided against himself. His early

triumphs in war, at Belgrade, Rhodes and Mohacs, had been

gained at a cost to his people. Iskander Chelebi, the Chief

Treasurer, informed him that a war levy had been laid during

those three years, of a piece of silver for every head of live

stock and measure of grain. So those years of war had been a

drain on the country. The ensuing years of peace had repaired

the damage.

Suleiman gave his decision that no added taxes for war

should be levied henceforth. In his Vienna campaign the army

gleaned enough from Austria to pay the cost The damage

during the retreat Suleiman made good from his personal

funds.

Yet after three years, in the spring of 1532, he had to lead the

asker north again, this time against the Christian Emperor.

March of the Phantom Army

Ferdinand made it inevitable. Although the would-be King

of Hungary had not been able to rally a following among the

Hungarians, he had hired soldiery and gleaned forces from

Charles, and re-entered the country. He had laid siege to Buda

and had only been driven from the citadel by the Turkish

garrison Suleiman had left there to hold it

With intermittent warfare breaking out along the Danube,

Charles had gathered a large army around Vienna. To enable

him to do so he had agreed on a truce with the Lutherans (June

1532) dismissing all charges against them before the imperial

court. This is known as the religious truce of Nuremberg, and

was a triumph for Luther. To face the Turk, it was necessary

for Charles to have the German cities quiet behind him.

The army at Vienna that June was perhaps the largest mobi

lized within the Empire during that generation, for the German

city troops as well as the professional soldiery marched at the

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Emperor's command, and Charles drew in his veteran Spanish

tercios from Italy and the Netherlands.

Good Richard Knolles, three generations later, described the

Christian muster enthusiastically:

". . . old, expert soldiers, and of them many whole com

panies . . . officers and men of mark in other armies now were

content to serve as private men. It was thought that so many

worthy captains and valiant soldiers were never before in the

memory of man assembled together into one camp. For the

princes and free cities had sent thither chosen and approved

men, striving as it were among themselves who should send

the best. All the flower and strength of Germany, from the river

Vistula to the Rhine, and from the Ocean to the Alps, was sent

... or of themselves voluntarily came thither. A thing never

before heard of, that all Germany should as it were with one

consent be glad to take up arms for their common safety."

Charles, however, remained two hundred miles away, at

Ratisbon on the headwaters of the Danube.

What befell this excellent army during the critical months

from June to October was entirely unexpected. It mystified the

Germans at the time, and it has puzzled Europeans ever since.

Knowing that the Turkish host with its Sultan was approach

ing swiftly from the south, the Germans prepared to defend

the upper Danube, basing themselves on Vienna. There they

stayed, steadfastly enough. They never saw Suleiman, or his

main army.

They heard tidings enough of the Turks. In the mountains

south of them, towns fell before Turkish assaults; refugees be

gan to come in, from farther west. The Turks were seen where

no one expected them to be, between Vienna and Europe

proper. Other, terrible horsemen who were not Turks drove

through the upland valleys, turning to sweep through unde

fended villages, bridging rivers, or swimming them. These

mysterious riders proved to be Tatars from Asia.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

The flying columns appeared at Steyr and along the Enns, a

hundred miles west o Vienna.

About that time, in the first week of August, messengers

arrived from the Tauera range. They said the main Turkish

army was besieging the small town of Guns, sixty miles south.

Very soon after that the baffled commanders at Vienna received

orders from Charles to hold their position and not to move

beyond the mountains to the relief of Guns.

That small citadel held out valiantly, yet the great German

army did not attempt to aid it. Its garrison consisted of no more

than 700, most of whom had been caught there while on their

way to the rendezvous at Vienna. For twenty days Suleiman

remained at Guns, laying siege to it in desultory fashion. Then,

on August 28, he accepted the surrender of the place in a mys

tifying manner. He demanded only the keys of the demolished

gates, gave the brave garrison immunity, and contented himself

with stationing detachments of janizaris in the breaches, to act

as guards to keep the rest of the army out, while he withdrew.

The commanders at Vienna were still puzzling over the token

surrender of the mountain hamlet when speeding columns of

riders appeared behind them, pushing past them toward Sulei

man, crossing the Danube and laying waste the forested valleys.

They came so close that some of them felt their way through die

adjacent Wiener Wald, and the Germans were able to about-

face and block many ravines, cutting off the horsemen, inflicting

heavy loss on them.

But most of the columns found their way back to lower

Austria, where Suleiman was circling through the mountains,

storming some towns, yet passing by largish cities like Graz and

Marburg. His host threaded the rough Alpine region, getting

across the swift Mur River and bridging the Drave. In his path

there was no army to oppose him.

By October 9, when the autumn storms began, he was out of

the Austrian uplands, safely back on the lower Danube, march

ing down by easy stages to Belgrade.

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Not until September 23, when the Turks were far away, cross

ing the river Drave, did Charles appear in Vienna, to stay a few

days. By early October he also was returning home, crossing

Italy on his way to Barcelona.

So ended one of the strangest campaigns of history. The

anticipated duel between the Sultan of the east and the Em

peror of the west had never taken place. The mighty host

Charles had gathered to defend middle Europe had stayed pas

sively in camp at Vienna; the formidable Turkish asker had

avoided it, while indulging in a great raid through most of

Austria. The dreaded Suleiman himself had pkyed at war for

nearly a month at little Guns.

All this made no sense from a European point of view; it

made sense very clearly, when the actual happenings are under

stood, from the Turkish viewpoint. The answer to the riddle of

1532 lies in Suleiman himself.

He had never intended to invade Almanya, as the Turks

called Germany proper. Regardless of the speculations and the

fears of western Europe, he had no thought of extending the

Turkish conquests beyond western Hungary, where he did re

take with ease the area necessary to protect Buda, which he now

claimed as part of his dominion. To the Almanya beyond tiny

Austria, encircled within its hills, and the bastion of Bohemia-

he had never made claim. Whatever his intentions had been re

garding Vienna three years before, he relinquished that capital

city now. The brothers Hapsburg could rule Viyana.

Suleiman, always reticent, seldom allowed his plans to be

known. Ten years before he had followed out the Moslem cus

tom of sending in advance to an enemy an offer of peace,

against the alternative of attack upon a Land of War. In ten

years conditions had changed; he was now in direct discussion

with the envoys of the Hapsburgs. And the Sultan's character

had undergone a change. He no longer trusted in the efficacy

of a war of conquest. Yet he was obliged to journey forth at

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

least every three years with the heads of his Organization, and

the Turkish muster for war. In spite of his efforts to substitute

another leader, Ibrahim for example, the army would accept no

substitute for the presence of the Sultan himself. The Turkish

state was still based upon the army. Even Suleiman had no

thought of disbanding the military organization of which he

was the head. Instead, he was working very quietly to change

its nature, and its functions. The Ferhad Pashas had disap

peared from its command, and Ibrahim, nominally Serasker

(Generalissimo), was not a natural soldier.

In his diary Suleiman noted the campaign cryptically as being

against "the King of Spain."

In the make-up of that particular army, however, there is a

clue. While the regular contingents, the janizaris, spahis and

the feudal cavalry of Europe and Asia, remained as usual in

strength-45,000 to 48,000, which was about the force of the

Germans at Vienna the light horsemen had been increased to

more than 50,000 and the Krim Khan summoned from the

steppes with 15,000 Tatars. These Tatars, formidable in surprise

raids, were not accustomed to attacking fortified positions. (Al

though a half dozen years before they had broken into the

distant city of Moscow.)

Suleiman, then, moved north with forces adapted to swift

inroads rather than to siege operations. He had no heavy artil

lery with him.

Remember that he was adamant in refusing to be drawn into

the siege of a citadel like Rhodes; he had tested the resistance

of Vienna when held by a much smaller force of Europeans;

and he was determined to avoid another winter march like that

of three years before, with its loss of valuable horses.

Yet his supremacy had been challenged by the mobilization

of the Europeans at Vienna.

What he attempted to do, and failed to do, is clear. He

wanted to draw the German army out of its lines at Vienna,

into the open plains. When his flying columns of Tatars and

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aldnjis (Sackmann, the Germans called them) did not bring

out the Germans to defend the Austrian countryside, Suleiman

moved to Guns. From Guns to Vienna there is a clear corridor

of high prairie land, between the great lake, the Neusiedler See >

and the eastern end of the Tauern mountain chains.

If the Germans had moved south into that corridor to relieve

Guns, their infantry would have been out in open country, in

fested on all sides by the Turkish horsemen. If a battle had

ensued under those conditions, there might have been a second

Mohacs and an end to the Hapsburg challenge to Hungary.

Charles was wise in avoiding such a battle.

Evidently as soon as Suleiman realized that the Germans

would not be tricked, he abandoned his staged performance o

the siege of Guns and accepted the keys of the castle in the

comedy of surrender.

There is another clue in the cryptic entries in his diary.

"We camp by Graz, a great town lying under the rule of the

King of Spain . . . surrender of the castle of Posega . . , we

burn the outer town of the castle of Kobasch . . . the castle of

Ghouriani belonging to the son of the despot makes its submis

sion . . . the army camps by the castle of Altakh on the bank

of the Bozut River; surrender of the castle of Pancova, belong

ing to King Ferdinand . . /*

Suleiman's army appears to have gathered in the feudal pos

sessions of Ferdinand while making its sweep through the

Styrian mountains. Other cities were not molested in that way.

A German chronicle relates: "The rage of the invaders took

them into Lincium, a town in which Ferdinand was at the time/*

Whether Ferdinand was present in Austria or not, his posses

sions suffered "through the length and breadth of his lands/*

And the Turkish army repaid the cost of the campaign.

Whether Suleiman regretted that the absent Charles had not

ventured out to meet him, we cannot know. Publicly, of course,

Ibrahim made claim that although the Sultan had gone to meet

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

him, the Emperor as usual had not been found. The diary itself

dismisses the war indifferently.

November 13. "Death of the former Grand Vizir, Piri Pasha."

November 21. "The Sultan returns to the Serai at Constanti

nople; five days of festival and illumination in the city and its

suburbs of Ayub, Galata and Scutari. The bazaars remain open

at night and Suleiman goes to visit them incognito."

For the first time Suleiman ventured out among the crowds

to hear their talk, after his absence. He was trying, in his slow,

methodical way, to make a difficult decision without the aid

of Ibrahim.

Truce on the Danube

Suleiman meant to end the Turkish penetration by land into

Europe.

At the same time realization seemed to grow upon him that

he would never find the friendship he had sought in the west.

Francis, who had appealed to him, had tried to use him as a

weapon against Charles, to be discarded when not needed. For

the nearest of them, Ferdinand of Austria, he had gained only

contempt He had been willing to meet the western princes

more than halfwaythey had never understood how far he had

gone to meet them. In their society he would find no place. He

would be alone, a Turk.

With this realization came the certainty that he could rely on

no one except himself. He would turn his back on the west. Per

haps he still clung to the idea that his state could be a bridge

between the Bible and the Koran, but it would be Turkish, and

alone. It would have no Ibrahim as his second self; from it he

would send the tricky Gritti. And he himself would venture

where he had not set foot in twelve years, into Asia. (Only

once had he journeyed across Anatolia, to embark for Rhodes.)

There he would follow after his father, but not as Selim had

done; lie would seek the Moslem lands of peace, of the Koran.

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LANDS OF WAR '

Yet by those years of change, from 1533 to 1536 (in which

time he married Roxelana), Suleiman had rounded out a wide

dominion for the Osmanlis in Europe. His new frontiers lay

close to Venice on the Adriatic, some nine hundred miles from

Constantinople., and in northern Hungary, seven hundred miles

distant; northeasterly they extended through the tributary

steppes of the Krim Tatars to Azov by the mouth of the river

Don, eight hundred miles away. It was a journey of twelve hun

dred miles or more from Azov on its inland sea to Zara on the

Adriatic. These inner sea borders of his European state were

held by the allied Tatars and the friendly Venetians. The Balkan

peoples, from Greeks to Hungarians, formed the inner nations

of his hegemony. Beyond lay the aliens, Italians, Germans,

Slovaks, Poles and the Slavs of Muscovy.

At this line of demarcation, by Suleiman's decision, the land

ward expansion of the Turks into Europe ceased. This northern

frontier was to remain little changed for a century and a half.

Nearly at the end of the seventeenth century an ambitious Turk

ish vizir was to attempt an actual siege of Vienna, and the

young Peter Alexeivich (Peter the Great) was to march down

the Don against the Turks in Azov.

The dominion bounded and set by Suleiman was no transitory

conquest. What cemented it together was the nature of the

Osmanli's rule. For the remaining years of his life migrants

would flee from war and hunger, coming over the Russian and

Austrian frontiers, seeking food and the toleration of their

churches, whether Eastern "Orthodox, /Greek Orthodox, the

Armenian rite, the Moslem faith, or the Jewish. It was his pax

Turcica that gave substance to his hegemony of the Danube.

Again, as after Vienna, the brothers Hapsburg sued for a

truce. Nothing could have suited Suleiman better, now that he

intended to depart into Asia. This time he himself needed a

truce with the Europeans, and he welcomed the envoys

cordially.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

In their new amiability, Suleiman and Ibrahim devised a

new status for the brothers Hapsburg. The two ceased to be

"Ferdinand and the King of Spain," and became friendly sup

pliants to be taken into Suleiman's growing family, Charles as

a brother, Ferdinand as a son.

This very informal title the envoy from Vienna was obliged

to request publicly, with no little humiliation, after making a

token surrender of the city of Gran by handing over the keys.

From dictation he repeated: "King Ferdinand, your son, holds

all things belonging to him as belonging to you, his father . . .

he did not know you wanted to possess Hungary, and if he had

known it, he would never have gone to war over it. . . ?

And a special representative arrived from Charles, one

Cornelius Schepper, who brought a letter with him. Suleiman,

in his new role as a head of the European family, assured the

gentlemen from Vienna that Ferdinand could have a truce.

"Not only a truce, but a peace; not for seven years or a century

but for all time as long as Ferdinand keeps it."

Under the whimsicality and the dig at Ferdinand, the Sultan

was expressing an earnest wish,

Ibrahim received Charles's letter with all formality, rising

and pressing it to his forehead (to make the most of this first

missive from Suleiman's rival). "He is truly a mighty lord, and

so we honor him."

But the letter itself caused trouble. "This is not written by a

prudent prince or a wise one. Why does he set forth titles that

are not his? How dares he style himself, to my lord, King of

Jerusalem? Does he not know that my mighty emperor and not

he Charles is lord of Jerusalem? Why, here he calls himself

Duke of Athens, which is now Sethine, a small town belonging

to usl . . . My master has no need to steal titles from others-

lie has enough that are truly his own!"

Whereupon Ibrahim treated the German envoys to one of his

dissertations on the state of Europe, this time with Charles as

subject: ". ; . in Italy he threatened us with war, and prom-

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LANDS OF WAR

ised the Lutheran followers peace; he came to Germany, and

there did nothing for the Lutherans or against us. A great ruler

should not begin what he cannot finish ... he announced

publicly that he would have a council [to bring the Lutherans

into the old religion]. He has not had one. We are not like that

... If I chose to do so, I could summon that council, putting

Luther on one side and the Pope on the other, and making them

agree."

Of the two Hapsburgs, only Ferdinand got his truce, and ac

knowledgment as King of the northern mountains of Hungary

that he already held.

With Charles, Suleiman refused to come to any agreement

. . . "until he first makes peace with my friend and ally the

King of France, and restores to him the lands he has taken from

him/*

Was Suleiman overscrupulous in keeping his word to Francis?

Or was he mocking Charles and ridiculing Francis* broken

pledges?

During the negotiations, however, Ibrahim made an extraor

dinary statement to the Europeans, who, like others before

them, had learned to flatter the Vizir, and to make him costly

gifts as the unacknowledged head of the Turkish state. Ibrahim

exclaimed: "It is true that I govern this vast empire . . . what

ever I do is accomplished. If I wished I could make a stableboy

into a pasha. What I wish to give is given, and cannot be takea

away. My lord will say nothing against it If the great Sultan

gives something and I do not wish it given, then it is taken

away. The making of war, the granting of peace, the disposal of

treasure all is in my hands. The Sultan is not better ckd than

I. His powers he entrusts to my hands. . . . I do not say these

things idly, but to give you courage to speak to me freely."

Whether this was sheer nervous exhaustion, or insane con

fidence, is hard to say. Ibrahim was not boasting entirely, be*

cause he held power and privilege, as he described. His most

bitter enemy, Iskander Chelebi, dared complain to the Sultan

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

that the Greek who had been a Christian was taking wealth

from all his transactions. Suleiman paid little attention. He had

given his word not to remove the Vizir in disgrace while they

both lived. And Ibrahim's fortune would return to the Treasury

at his death. In a sense it was only borrowed.

Gritti, anxious now, shook his head at the self -intoxication of

the great Vizir. "If Suleiman/' he said, "should send one of his

cooks to kill Ibrahim, nobody would prevent it*

The adroit son of the Doge survived only a year. Sent by

Suleiman into northern Hungary to arbitrate the limits of the

frontier a task that the Sultan knew would take him years

Gritti lost his nerve or tried to reap a new fortune out of the

assignment. (Ibrahim had given him very different instructions

from Suleiman, who wished none of Zapolya's territory given

up. ) In either case, he tried to convince the Austrians that he

could gain for them the cities of the great Hungarian plain.

By so doing he roused the Hungarians of the countryside

against him. They hunted him down and beheaded him at once.

When they stripped his body they found a small casket strapped

to his inner thigh, within it jewels worth four hundred thousand

gold pieces.

And Ibrahim never gave another audience to European am

bassadors. He was sent ahead of Suleiman into Asia.

So Suleiman tried to close the book of Almanya and Viyana.

He meant to depart from Europe for years. Yet, putting no trust

in a truce with a Hapsburg, he looked for something to occupy

all the Europeans while he was gone. He found it to be a ven

ture out to sea.

In turning to the sea as an expedient, he launched the for

tune of the Osmanlis in a new direction, and by so doing he was

to shift the kaleidoscope of Europe for more than thirty years.

He might not have found the way to the sea if it had not been

for one man, Barbarossa.

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Ill

Tne Sea

The Impelling Forces

NOW it was strange that the greatest of the Osmanlis

should go out, day after day, to his garden path to watch

for the coming of one man from the sea. Yet invisible forces

drove him to send for Barbarossa, and other forces impelled

this Redbeard to shape his course to Serai Point, albeit reluc

tantly.

The same intelligent Frenchman who had observed children

buying cherries in the bazaar saw the significance of this Serai

Point "a point of the main knd jutting out toward the Bos-

phorus, and from it the passage over to Asia takes only a half

hour. On the right hand it hath the White Sea [Marmora] by

which there is easy passage to Egypt and Africa whereby it is

supplied with all the commodities of those places. On the left

hand it hath the Black or Euxine Sea and the Palus Maeotis

[Sea of Azov]. This last, receiving a vast number of rivers and

having many bordering peoples, furnishes this city with all the

commodities of the North. So there is nothing pleasant, useful,

or necessary which is not brought in plenty from all sides by

sea to Constantinople. When the wind hinders vessels from

coming by the one channel, it helps them in from the other * .

the entry of the port is the loveliest in the world."

So Suleiman had behind him the waterways that carried the

161

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

trade of nearer Asia. Ahead of him, beyond the stone castles

of the Dardanelles, stretched the tranquil Aegean sprinkled

with the islands that had once been Greek and were now Turk

isheven to Rhodes.

For the Mediterranean, the Middle Sea as some called it,

was no single thoroughfare of water like the mighty ocean be

yond. It had its barriers of islands, and its arms stretching far

inland, and all these were claimed by somebody or other. Be

fore Suleiman's time Mehmed the Conqueror had launched

Turkish ships upon the Aegean, while Selim had sent forth

fleets of galleys to hold this eastern arm of the sea. Beyond,

past bare Zante and flowering Corfu, the Venetians still claimed

the long arm of the Adriatic, swept by blasts of the Borro, the

north wind.

Westward lay the narrow gut where Malta and Sicily made

steppingstones, as it were, between Cape Bona and the toe of

Italy. Beyond this barrier the western half of the sea, with rocky

Sardinia and Corsica and the chain of the Balearics, was claimed

by Charles for the Empire, and especially for Spain. It was to

all purposes a Spanish sea to the mighty rock of Gibraltar.

No Turkish ships had ventured that far, and it seemed im

possible for them to do so. But there was a way thither by knd

as well, along the African coast And as Monsieur de Thevenot

had noted, the passage from the Golden Horn to Africa was an

easy one.

Moreover, along the African coast smoldered age-old an

tagonism to the Europeans north of the sea. The desert folk

who migrated to this southern coast, whether Phoenicians,

Berbers or Arabs, had always found enemies beyond the bar

rier of the sea, whether Romans or Normans. In the early ages

the more cultured people had occupied the southern shore,

where St. Augustine had written his City of God in the small

city of Hippo (Bona) and philosophers had dung to the library

in Alexandria. Then the wave of Arabs had swept the flotsam

and Jetsam of this ancient culture across the Strait of Gibraltar

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THE SEA

into the Spanish peninsula, bringing Aristotle as well as the

kalifate to Spain, pouring the resources of Ask into the bar

baric European coast, thus stimukting there the revival o the

thirteenth century.

Drawn to these resources or simply pirating at sea, the Euro

peans had reacted during the crusades, the Italian cities, Pisa,

Genoa the Proud, and the Serene Republic o Venice, sending

south their armed fleets. St. Louis died by the ruins of Car

thage, besieging the port of Tunis. The cruelty of Normans and

Italians was fed by the bitterness of religious war that left to

the Mediterranean a heritage of pirating and the passage of

armed fleets to loot and seize captives for die oar benches of

their galleys.

In the lull that followed, the African coast lay under a lotus-

eating quiet, the once powerful kalifates broken down into

pacific family dynasties that ruled the small garden ports. Arabs

or Berbers, they traded along the sea or wandered with the

tribes back of the barrier mountains, following preaching mar

abouts into the sandy desert or making pilgrimage to the holy

city of Kairouan.

Upon such a heritage of drowsiness and bitter memories

came the thrust of the Europeans outward across the oceans.

It glanced against the African coast. The year that the Genoese

Cristoforo Colombo returned from his discovery of islands be

yond the ocean, the two monarchs of a Spain-to-be, Ferdinand

and Isabelk, celebrated the conquest of Granada. Moorish

refugees fleeing across the water to Ceuta and Mars El Kabir

were followed by armored Spaniards who planted their flag

over the nearest African ports. Isabella's confessor, Cardinal

Ximenes, looked toward a new dominion in Africa as in the

New World, to be Spanish and Christian. From their caravels

and galleons the conquistadors landed their horses and cannon,

to fortify themselves along the infidel coast, particularly in the

Island (Algiers). Against such invaders the fugitive Moors and

the native Berbers could fling only their anger, being powerless

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

in their light sailing feluccas and fregatas to do more than stab

and snatch at the Spanish convoys.

Then like eagles sighting strife on the land appeared the first

of the sea rovers from the east. Ruthless as eagles, obedient to

no laws, these looters of the sea had no kinship with the dis

tressed Arab and Berber population except the tie of religion

and a mutual hatred of the wealth-ridden Spaniards who cov

ered their bodies with steel and slew human beings in their path

with powder and lead.

These adventurers of the sea had the ships and the sagacity

to meet the Spaniards in combat. The one who made himself

most feared was Khair ad-Din Barbarossa, who, called to the

aid of Algiers, seized Algiers for himself.

(Do not think of these men as pirates, corsairs of the Bar-

bary Coast, or even as "Algerine corsairs, from a pirates' nest."

Those words did not exist at the time; they were coined later, to

fit explanations in European histories. Think instead of the

forces that met upon that sea, of the spread of two religions,

the outward thrust of two continents upon the coast of a third,

and the conflict that ensued between two empires, the Holy

Roman and the Osmanli Turkish.)

Khair ad-Din Barbarossa

Suleiman was calling to him this man's bitter anger.

They say he was stout as a wrestler, and he trimmed his red

beard close under his beak of a nose. They say he was good-

natured but cruel when enraged. He was a seaman; he could

sense the coming of a Borro, and he could pick his way through

the sandy shallows of the Syrtes, and hide his vessels inside an

island, in the hidden lagoon of Yerba. He had been afloat since

he left his potter's wheel as a boy, one of the four sons of Jacob

the Albanian, on Mitylene Island. One of his brothers had been

killed at sea by the Europeans. Another, the older Uruj, with

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THE SEA

a beard like flame and a generous nature to hold to, had fought

the invading Spaniards west from Tim is., as far as the Balearics,

losing first an arm and then his life in so doing. Whereupon the

youngest, Khair ad-Din, had led his brother's ships westward

again in the same reckless course. His crews had given him the

nickname of the dead Uruj, Redbeard.

Grim Sultan Selim, pausing in his conquest of Egypt, heard

the legend growing around the name of Barbarossa, and gave

him the horsetail standard of a beylerbey, with a horse and

sword added. From the Nile, Africa stretched westward before

the eyes of the Turks, a new continent to be explored as the

Europeans were exploring the Americas. Barbarossa found

more use in the regiment of janizaris and the battery of heavy

camion Selim added to his gift.

The legend of Barbarossa continued to grow among the

Europeans. He could not be found, yet he appeared everywhere.

Spanish galleys caught him ferrying exiled Moors who had no

place to go by themselves from Andalusia to Africa. Barba

rossa added those galleys to his small fleet of thirty-five galliots.

He collected papal royal galleys as well, and forced the crews

to row them.

When Charles V, as King of Spain, ordered a purge of the

remaining Moors (having first been released from his corona

tion oath to convert no person by force), Barbarossa raided his

coast, guided by Moslems in Spain toward churches and gar

risons inland. Getting clear with his spoil, he took off the Mos

lems as passengers. He ferried away seventy thousand in all,

and these Moors, eaten by anger as deep as his own, made up

the bulk of his crews.

Charles could not tolerate such vagabonds in the western

Mediterranean. With Barbarossa there were Sinan, a Jew of

Smyrna who could take the elevation of the sun by the butt of

a crossbow, and Cacca-diabolo, Beat-the-Devil, with Salih Reis,

a fat Arab of the Nile who steered Barbarossa's barge. The

difficulty was to get the sea rovers out of there. Scorched from.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Bujeya, they turned up in Algiers. The Spaniards held the

Island, the Penon de Alger, guarding the entrance to the scanty

harbor. Tired of dodging past the island, which gave the city its

name, Barbarossa pounded its fortifications down with cap

tured cannon, and put its garrison to work building a service

able breakwater out to sea.

What happened then at Algiers sent laughter far down the

African coast. A Spanish relief fleet searching for the garrison

on the island failed to recognize the changed shape of the island

without its fort, or the city with a breakwater moving out to

sea. So the Spaniards went on searching until they were

hemmed in by Barbarossa's flotilla and captured entire. So a

Spanish capitana ship joined the rover's fleet

Barbarossa's luck, they called it. But it was more than luck

he had. For one thing he intended to stay in Algiers where

Charles least wanted him to be within reach of the strait where

the treasure fleets came in from the New World, and across

from the coast of Spain itself. The rover had conceived a

fondness for the town that straggled up a sunny hillside between

defending walls. The pakce of its late prince had pleasant palm

gardens, an attractive home for a seaman. Around that home

he settled Moorish artisans rescued from Spain. Around Algiers

he scattered colonies of such industrious glassblowers, builders

and metalworkers. They helped him set up foundries and dock

yards in the enlarged harbor. After his fashion, Barbarossa was

building a New Spain across from Barcelona.

This could not be tolerated. Charles gave the task of elim

inating Barbarossa from the Spanish beachheads in Africa to

the celebrated Andrea Doria, his Genoese admiral ( a veteran

of politics ashore more than of service at sea). How the rover

would have fared alone against such a dominant empire will

never be known. After the sailing season was ended by autumn

storms in 1532, he received a message from Suleiman at Con

stantinople. The Sultan asked him to journey thither in person,

to take command of the unhandy Turkish fleet.

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THE SEA

Barbarossa was in no hurry to do so. In Algiers lie was his

own master; at sea he had become a match for Doria. Now that

he felt old age coming upon him he relished the sokce of rare

wine, and the most shapely girls. Yet he recalled that Uruj had

not lived as long; he wondered what he might accomplish

against Charles and Andrea Doria with Osmanli wealth and

power behind him. The thought was tempting, and Barbarossa

for all his lusts was a devout Moslem. "If God has not appointed

the hour of a man's death, how else can he be slain?" he asked,

and went.

Unwillingly, he went because only from Suleiman could he

gain security for his haven of Algiers. When early summer

brought the wind fair astern, with the oar sweeps lashed out

board to catch the wind and the great lateen sail swelling over

his loitering crew Redbeard would have no galley slaves on

his own vessel he led the eighteen galleys of his fighting squad

ron out to his rendezvous with fate.

The course he followed would have been taken by no one else.

North he headed to pick up plunder from the Spanish island of

Elba, then sou'east to find and take along a Genoese corn

convoy. Wide he swung around Malta with his masthead look

outs searching for a glint of red that ijiight be the dreaded gal

leys of the Knights on cruise then over to the Greek shores

where Doria had been lurking. Missing Doria (who had heard

of his coming and put in to Brindisi), he paused to inspect a

Turkish fleet he encountered. Then, not to appear unduly eager,

he beached his vessels under Gallipoli light to repaint and re

furbish them while he waited for a pressing invitation to enter

Turkish waters!

When at last the impatient Suleiman beheld Barbarossa

rounding Serai Point, it was with pennons flying over the gleam

ing dark hulls and cannon firing a salute, and the captured

Genoese craft towed behind. When the rover strode into Sulei

man's presence in the Hall of Audience, it was as an independent

167

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

monarch of the sea with eighteen captains rolling after him,

and the spoils of Elba to set before the Sultan.

There must have been a moment of mutual examination when

the most powerful monarch of the land faced the man who had

become a legend on the sea. Suleiman beheld a massive, im

patient figure, old and bronzed, with gray in his clipped beard.

This impatience jarred upon the careful Turks. Barbarossa

wanted no landsmen or soldiery on a vessel; he wanted no ves

sels ill found., with green wood in them such as he had seen

in the Turkish fleet at sea. He wanted full command, alone.

Suleiman wanted Barbarossa's secret of success. The man

from Algiers had no secret; he built ships and he fought them.

Older members of the Divan shook their heads over Bar

barossa.

"Have you not experienced pashas enough to serve you," they

asked Suleiman, "that you show favor to this outcast son of a

Christian potter? How will you trust such a man?"

Unable to decide, Suleiman dispatched Barbarossa inland

through Asia to be examined by Ibrahim. The temperamental

Vizir approved of the sea rover. "This is the man for us," he

wrote his master. "Brave and careful, farsighted in war, en

during at work, steadfast when he meets with misfortune."

On his own account Suleiman reasoned that while the Turk

ish fleet had been unable to take the sea against Doria, that ad

miral in turn had been able to accomplish nothing against Bar

barossa. Likewise his own adversary the Emperor had proved

elusive upon the land but showed every evidence of cherishing

his western Spanish half of the Mediterranean. It seemed as if

Barbarossa, loosed upon the sea, might be the means of occupy

ing all the attention of the European powers while the Sultan

was absent in Asia.

Once he had made up his mind Suleiman gave the adventurer

every aid in the great task-a jeweled sword, the rank of Kapu-

tan Pasha (Captain of the Sea), the Arsenal, and the Golden

Horn to build an entire new fleet to suit him.

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THE SEA

From that day Barbarossa's restless energy transformed the

Golden Horn, refitting vessels, launching new craft with officers

on deck and salutes echoing, initiating Turkish shepherd boys

and soldiers into the mysteries of rope and sail. Hugely he de

manded, timber and cloth, hemp and tar, bronze cannon, brass

astrolabes. Nowhere else could he have obtained all he wanted

in that time. The Turks understood that he wanted a new fleet

whole and manned, and eighty-four vessels were ready to put to

sea in less than a year. Even so Barbarossa was not entirely

satisfied. This new armada, he admitted, made a fine appear

ance, but such vessels with inexperienced crews would be a

trouble rather than an aid to him in actual battle.

Perhaps the Sultan suspected the rover of wanting to go off

again upon his small raiding ventures in the west; more prob

ably he meant to pin the impetuous Barbarossa down to the

command of the great new fleet that might in time be able

to hold the eastern waters for the Turks. Certainly he exacted

a pledge that his new Kaputan Pasha would not put to sea with

out all eighty-four sails following him. Barbarossa gave the

pledge with mental reservation.

The two of them, however, evolved a plan of action that was

startling in its scope. As kaputan of the Sultan, flying the green

colors of the Osmanlis, Barbarossa faced potential enemies

in papal shipping, in Neapolitan, Genoese, the galleys of the

Knights of Malta, of Portugal as well as the sea forces of the

Empire. Only the Venetian fleet was neutralized, by treaty,

and the French by the inclination of its master, Francis.

Under such circumstances they planned to do four things:

to recapture one at a time the European-held ports of Africa;

to seize in the same manner the islands that provided Doria

with bases at sea; to set up an offshore blockade along the

critical Spanish coast; to retaliate for every raid on Africa by a

raid on the European coasts.

That was a great task for one man to perform. It would take

years. Yet in attempting it, the new Turkish fleet would chal-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

lenge Charles's command of the Mediterranean. And whatever

happened, Algiers would be well safeguarded.

In the spring of 1535 when Suleiman journeyed into Asia,

Barbarossa rounded Serai Point with eighty-four sails following.

Charles Sails to Africa

He surprised the Europeans by appearing among them so

promptly. He left the ill-found bulk of his new battle fleet be

hind in the Aegean ports for convoy duty. With a handy strik

ing force, he passed through the tide-torn Messina Strait, storm

ing and stripping Reggio, surprising eighteen galleys at Cetraro,

landing elsewhere along the Italian coast as far up as Fondi,

where he sent a landing force by night to loot the castle and

carry off the lovely Giulia Gonzaga, widow of one of the

Colonnas, sister to Joanna of Aragon, whose beauty had been

sung by a concourse of Italian poets of love. The equally ad

mired Giulia was awakened by her servants only in time to run

from her bed, to mount an unsaddled horse and ride into the

night. Some witnesses said Giulia had a nightgown on, others

said she had none. However that may be, the one esquire who

rode with her to safety was assassinated afterward by the Gon

zaga family.

Nothing could have been better calculated to set the Euro

pean courts by their -ears, and to draw their sea commands to

the coast at Rome. Whereupon Barbarossa resumed his strategic

mission by doubling back to the African coast and taking Tunis,

which had been held by one of the neglected Spanish garrisons.

Having taken it, as at Algiers, he proceeded to install his own

rulers and to use it as a base.

This in turn brought immediate reaction from the Europeans.

( Suleiman was far distant in Asia by then. ) It was bad enough

to have the rover sheltered at Algiers; it was unendurable to

have him quartered in the lagoon of Tunis within easy sail of

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Sicily, at the African end of the knd bridge, where he could

intercept merchant fleets passing from the western to the east

ern Mediterranean.

The next summer Charles himself embarked with 20,000

Spanish and German veterans and Portuguese volunteers in

an armada of 600 sail, convoyed across by Doria with 62 gal

leys of the Empire, to retake Tunis.

By all the rules of warfare, whether on sea or land, Barba-

rossa should have withdrawn in his ships before the arrival of

the Emperor. Whether he was too stubborn to do so, or whether

he carried out the Sultan's behest to keep their European ene

mies occupied at all cost is not certain. But he stayed to defend

Tunis.

Sinan the Jew and Beat-the-Devil were with him. The three

brethren of the sea evidently expected that they might fare

badly at the hands of the Emperor, because they hid away a

dozen or fifteen of their handiest small galleys in the harbor

of Bizerta, to the west. This escape fleet was concealed by

stripping the masts, oars and cannon from the slender hulls

and sinking them along the sandy beach.

These sixteenth-century war galleys, like modern destroy

ers, had peculiarities. Their great kteen sails were used only

in cruising. Driven by fifty or more long oars, they could close

an enemy, firing from the heavy cannon on the f oredeck, strik

ing with their massive bronze-tipped ram, throwing their force

of two hundred or more fighting men across to the enemy's deck.

Built on the lines of modern racing shells (with beam less

than one eighth their length), they were speedy enough under

oars or sail to overhaul the lofty, tubby sailing galleons or cara

vels in short spurts; but they could not transport supplies suf

ficient for more than three or four days at sea, and in a storm

they had to run for the nearest shelter. The galley slaves chained

to die long oars also presented a problem, requiring food, and

warders to guard them. When the crew and soldiers left the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

deck, in port, the oars had to be unshipped and towed away,

to prevent the captive rowers taking the galley out to sea. In

battle also the desperate galley slaves had to be watched. On

Moslem craft the Gallienji, men chained to the ordeal of the

oars, were captives from Christian vessels, and vice versa.

Barbarossa would have only Turks on the galleys under his

immediate command. That made the handling of his squadron

easier, eliminated the useless slave guards, and about doubled

his fighting force in action.

Like the Turks, the Venetians still kept to their galleys-

galliots being the smaller type, royal galleys the larger-while

the Portuguese and Spanish navigators had developed the

oceangoing sailing vessel with lofty sides and broadside bat

teries of guns. In a wind, they were a match for the more

manageable war galleys. But the art of tacking was still novel,

and in a calm the massive caravel type of vessel became little

better than an inflammable drifting fort. A century would pass

before it gained supremacy in the Mediterranean.

Charles had several of these broadside-gunned vessels in his

armada, and one great carrack of the Knights of Rhodes, at

Malta. In their passage to Tunis the Europeans failed to sight

the galleys Barbarossa had hidden underwater at Bizerta.

At Tunis he made what preparation he could. Guns taken

from his ships were mounted in the Goletta, "The Throat," the

towerlike citadel that barred the way from the outer lagoon

to the inner harbor. In that harbor he collected all the remain

ing vessels. Over the Goletta he put the sagacious Sinan in

command, giving him the best of the Moorish boat crews and

the janizaris. In all Barbarossa had about 5000 trained men and

as many Berber tribesmen. To the townsfolk he said, "YouVe

had letters from the unbelievers. I shall go out and fight. What

will you do remain in the city?"

"God forbid," they answered.

For a space until then Tunis, like Yerba, the isle of the "Lotus-

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eaters" near it, had known tranquillity. Unnoticed, Christian

churches had survived by the river gardens. Pilgrims, bound

for Kairouan, had paused at its mosques. There was no strength

in Tunis to withstand the weapons of the professional soldiers

of the Emperor.

For twenty-four days Sinan held the Goletta, while Barba-

rossa led sallies from the town. Then the great carrack, St.

Ann, was brought close to the tower, to blast a breach in it,

and the Knights spearheaded the attack that drove out Sinan

and his men. Barbarossa joined him to make a stand between

the Goletta and the town. The Berber tribesmen melted away,

refusing to face the pikes and matchlocks of the armored

Spaniards and Germans. Three trenches the Turks dug and held

for a while, as they were forced back toward the city. With the

Goletta they had lost their forty cannon and more than a hun

dred vessels.

They could not retreat into the town. Led by a captive Knight,

the Christian galley slaves prisoned in the Kasaba had broken

out and got at weapons in the Arsenal. Several thousand strong,

the desperate prisoners held the streets.

From their last trench the surviving Turks disappeared at

night. Barbarossa, Sinan and Beat-the-Devil got away with

them. When search was made for them after three days they

could not be found.

For those three days Charles gave the town over to his sol

diers. The armed captives had got into the houses first, and

there was fighting between them and the incoming troops over

the spoil, while Tunis was stripped and burned. The Spanish

and German professionals, loosed in a Moslem community,

taught the inhabitants the meaning of savagery. Only remnants

of families escaped out into the desert, or threw themselves

from the walls.

Muley Hassan, the former prince of Tunis who had invoked

the aid of the Emperor, tried to stop the pillaging. An observer

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

relates that when Hassan interfered with soldiers who had

caught a Moorish girl, the Moor spat in his face and allowed

herself to be carried off.

Outside the walls a court painter, Jan Cornells Vermeyen,

set up the canvas on which he depicted Charles directing the

triumphant siege. The operation at Tunis was altogether suc-

. cessful, but Charles did not linger. He arranged a hurried treaty

with Hassan by which the prince paid annual tribute to Charles

and ceded the Goletta to the Europeans. Thereafter the prince

lived in his devastated city as no more than the pensioner of the

Spaniards. The pilgrims Kairouan-bound avoided it and Hassan

was killed after some years by his own son.

Strangely, Charles made no effort to extend his conquest

along the African coast. Instead, he began to withdraw his great

expedition toward Sicily. For this withdrawal Barbarossa may

have been accountable.

When he disappeared, the old sea rover fled, enraged, straight

to his hideaway at Bizerta. There he labored with desperation

to get the hulls of his fourteen hidden galleys afloat and

equipped again. Doria's cruisers sighted the apparition of a

squadron coming up to the surface of the harbor, and a fleet was

sent to head Barbarossa off. But he held back the Europeans

with cannon at the harbor mouth until he was ready to sail, and

when he did come out the European captains could not, or

would not, stop him. They contented themselves with sailing

in and looting Bizerta after he had gone.

Nursing his rage, Barbarossa headed for his old port of Al

giers, expecting the invading armada to be close behind him.

Learning at Algiers that it was loafing, instead, homeward by

way of Sicily, he took the dozen-odd small galliots of Algiers

along with him and disappeared again seaward.

He appeared next where he was least expected. On the island

of Minorca at Port Mahon the lookouts were awaiting the re

turn of the imperial fleet, since Charles, sailing from Barcelona,

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had passed the island on his way out. When they sighted a few

galleys bearing in flying Spanish colors and the crew on the

foredecks wearing Spanish clothing, they took them for the

first of the returning armada. Salutes were fired, and throngs

came down to the harbor, only to behold the incoming vessels

board and pillage an anchored Portuguese galleon. After the

masqueraders came the rest of Barbarossa's squadron, to storm

the city and carry fire and sword through the island, as Charles

had done at Tunis.

Out of Mahon the rovers sailed with 5700 captives. Before

they cleared the island they encountered the first vessels of

the armada, laden with spoils from Tunis. These Barbarossa

gathered in, adding them to his growing fleet, freeing the Mos

lems from the rowing benches and chaining Christians in their

places.

By the time Doria's battle fleet could reach the scene Barba

rossa had disappeared again. Nor could he be found on the

route back to Algiers. Instead, he was raiding the Spanish

coast. When the exasperated admiral doubled back under or

ders from Charles to bring Barbarossa to him, dead or living,

Barbarossa was back in Algiers with a sizable armada of his

own.

When Charles was informed of that, he took measures to

rid himself once and for all of the old man of the sea. By a liberal

payment to a Levantine, he arranged to have Barbarossa

assassinated at Algiers.

Charles returned home with what the Brief World Happen

ings calls "triumph and spoils." Throughout the Empire the

triumph of Tunis was broadcast; poets published it in verse; to

match Venneyen's painting, a potter at Urbino burned the

scene of the siege into a vase. Charles, as New World crusader

and victor over the infidels, commemorated his achievement by

creating a new order of chivalry. It had the "Cross of Tunis" as

emblem, and the motto of Barbaria.

But the official triumph and the Order thereof did not prove

175

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

convincing. Minorca lay like a blight on the sea, out from Bar

celona.

Charles's success had been gained at the cost of something

intangible. When he sailed again across the Mediterranean he

found that the people of Africa would endure no second Tunis.

And when Suleiman returned from Asia with the Turkish

asker at the end of that year, he heard how the Holy Roman

Emperor had gutted a Moslem city that had been under Turk

ish safeguard. Immediately the Sultan sent for Barbarossa to

report with all his force at the Serai in Constantinople.

The seafarer obeyed at once, leaving Algiers in the charge of

his son and the loyal eunuch Hassan Agha.

He never saw his city again.

Barbarossa Sells Himself

This time he indulged in no theatricals on the way to Sulei

man. He merely spread a report that he was northbound to raid

Majorca this for the benefit of European spies. To provide

another false lead he instructed Hassan Agha to raid Sardinia

instead. Then, out of sight of land, he changed course and

headed due east with all the speed of wind and oar sweeps. It

being midwinter, he encountered no hostile sails, for Doria

hugged the ports after the storms began.

Driving east through the lash of rain and battering of wind,

the aging rover warmed himself with wine. Drunk and moody,

he cursed the name of Charles, for Piali told him that Charles

had paid good gold to have him assassinated at Tunisso the

assassin had assured Piali, for more gold in hand. He cursed

the sap-green young Piali, a school lad of the Osmanlis, for

ever drawing charts of the coasts they ran down. (This Piali

had even turned up in the Arsenal a map drawn by a Turk

named Piri copied from one made by a Genoese infidel Co

lombo. It showed a new land beyond the ocean, and it had been

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THE SEA

captured on a Spanish galleon. Barbarossa had no interest in

the ocean, except as treasure fleets hove in from it. )

"The Emperor is a coin-kisser/* Barbarossa said. "He bid too

mean a sum for my life."

"I will tell him that/' Piali agreed, glib.

Barbarossa cursed Andrea Doria, the lord admiral, because he

had passed the word that he Barbarossa hid himself out of

sight "Doria's a politician," he told his lieutenants, aggrieved.

"He is an ignorant man who reads no books. By day my pennon's

at the masthead by night my beacon lanterns are lit. Can I help,

if he fails to find me?"

"It might be worth while," suggested Sinan, after consider

ing, "to help him find you."

"By God's eyes has not Charles offered him reward to do

it?"

"Then do you offer more. Who hunts a bargain may trick

himself."

Even in drink Barbarossa remembered this. He had sixty-

five years of age, and he had nothing to lose except a few years

more. It grieved him to leave Algiers behind him. And he felt

fear of Suleiman, who had been out of his sight for a year and

eight months, in which time by Barbarossa's reckoning he

had lost Tunis and fled like a goat from the imperial soldiery.

No, Barbarossa anticipated no friendly greeting from the Sul

tan his master. It may have crossed his mind to sheer away

from the Dardanelles, and run for it. To what port?

Only Venice lay open to him. For the captains of the Illus

trious Signory he had no love. They burned scented oil on their

aft decks to sweeten the stench from the slave benches; they

lamented their loss after the Turks took from them their Black

Sea fondacos and made them buy the shipments of silk and

spice they had conjured aforetime from the east out of Aden

and Malabar . . . their Archipelago made a chain of islands,

barring his way to the Dardanelles. . . . Barbarossa would not

sell himself to thieving merchants, who mocked his rank of

177

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Captain of the Sea. No, he would be the captain of their sea,

which they married every year, like a new woman, flinging a

gold ring into the water. He would never sell himself . . . but

he might

At the Serai Barbarossa hauled his bulk up the stone steps

of the landing, his narrowed eyes seeing no one of rank to greet

him, only feather-capped gardeners who ushered him to a

steward with a staff, who salaamed silently and turned before

him, not to the door of the Throne Room Within but to the

guards who were like statues before the door of the Divan.

For once afraid, Barbarossa strode in, his hand hooking to

ward the hilt of his sword in readiness to cut at any man, pasha

or swordbearer, who tried to seize him as the commander who

had failed, and had lost Tunis. From the couch against the wall

three pashas faced him, and Ibrahim, who had been his friend,

was not among them. In Ibrahim's place sat Lutfi, a dour soldier.

Scanning them, waiting for their accusation, Barbarossa was

at last aware of Suleiman seated alone at the side. The Sultan's

face was lined, his gray eyes heavy.

"May God bless and protect the Lord of the Two Worlds"

he muttered the customary words.

"May God give health to my Beylerbey of the Sea."

It took Barbarossa a moment to remember that this was a

new word. He did not know what it meant. "What?" he asked

bluntly.

Patiently Suleiman explained, his face unchanged. "As Lord

of the Sea you will have the rank of pasha, being the fourth

commander of my government." Suddenly Suleiman smiled,

as if at a pleasant thought. "The sea is no one place; it is not a

grant of land, but I think you will know how to make use of

it Perhaps, instead of three horsetails to your standard, you

would like to have three stern lanterns."

The three lanterns struck Barbarossa more forcibly than the

fact that he was now one of the great commanders. Since Sulei

man had said it, it was so. To the listening men of the Divan,

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Suleiman said: "The reward is given Khair ad-Din because for

one year and eight moons he held in play all the enemies in

Europe; he requited the loss of Tunis by the raid on Spain/'

The blood wanned in Barbarossa's veins, when he was seated

within the Divan. Such a craving seized him for wine that he

hardly heard the words of the discussion that followed. But

his sharp instinct caught the sense . . . Charles must atone for

his act in sacking a Moslem city to which he had no claim . . .

in moodiness, Suleiman revealed that war was at hand by land

and sea . . . the King of France was moving against the Em

peror again, and in alliance with Francis the Turkish asker

would cross to Italy . . . Barbarossa must lead out a greater fleet

to ferry the army, and he could play hide-and-seek no longer

around islands.

"Then it will be the Adriatic!" he blurted.

It surprised them that he should think it strange. He was

thinking of the Venetians. They would be done with marry

ing the sea, which would become a Turkish sea

Not until long afterward did he realize that Suleiman had

caught him and held him to the command of a hundred and

forty vessels, and more than that, to act as escort to the army.

For the rest of that winter flares burned at night along the

Arsenal shipways, while Barbarossa stormed the length of the

Horn conjuring up a new navy, with long basilisk cannon to

throw shot two hands' breadths around, and janizaris to serve

for marine guards.

Fair weather came, and it maddened Barbarossa to hear that

Doria was at sea with nothing to oppose him. On the plea that

the grain fleets were on the way from Egypt unprotected, Bar

barossa got permission to go out with forty galleys, claiming

the rest would follow when finished. He brought in the grain

convoys safely.

Meanwhile, finding it impossible to wait passively, he had got

into contact with Doria in unlooked-for fashion. Whose idea

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

it was, and who first attempted to carry it out, remains obscure.

But this much is clear. In some way Barbarossa spread the

rumor that he was ready to sell himself.

European espionage had diagnosed the preparations in the

Golden Horn pretty accurately. Rome, Venice, Vienna and

Valladolid realized that the Turkish objective would be the

Italian coast. There were rumors as to Barbarossa's disgruntle-

ment, and antagonism to Lutfi Pasha, commander of the land

army.

At this point Charles received a message from the Beylerbey

of the Sea that if Tunis were evacuated and left to him, he

might see fit to forsake Suleiman and the Turks, and retire

peaceably to Africa.

Apparently Charles was too wary to believe that the man

he had arranged to assassinate would come over to him; still

the message must have been discussed with Doria. The menace

of a krger Turkish fleet led by the seaman of Algiers was very

great. (And Doria, always a politician first, had at heart only

the safeguarding of his native Genoa and his own glory.)

Neither Charles nor Doria could forget the tempting pos

sibilities in the missive of the Beylerbey of the Sea. Doria him

self had shifted sides before. Why should not a pirate change his

flag? If Doria could remove Barbarossa and contrive the de

struction of the new Turkish fleet

Months kter Andrea Doria yielded to this irresistible temp

tation. At the tiny port of Parga, looking out at Corfu, he con

trived to meet a spokesman for Barbarossa. Doria had Gonzaga,

Viceroy of Sicily, with him, empowered to treat for the Em

peror. The discussion at Parga went on for days, Charles at

first refusing to give up Tunis, then agreeingif Barbarossa

would first burn the Turkish ships that he could not induce to

sail away with him.

Barbarossa would not do that. But the Europeans left Parga

with the impression that, soon or late, the Sultan's old man of

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the sea might be won over. And the effect of that impression

was disastrous in turn to Doria and to Charles.

The Instructions of Monsieur de la Foret

It might not have happened, except for Francis I. Suleiman

was then deeply preoccupied with Asia and was building an

other fleet on the Nile, to be dragged and sailed over the nar

row isthmus separating the Mediterranean from the Red Sea,

to explore the eastern oceans.

However, Francis, with his strange admixture of sagacity

and vainglory, had conceived of a way to cripple his great ad

versary Charles by striking him in a vital spot, Italy, with the

most dangerous of weapons, the Osmanli Turks.

To accomplish this desired end, Francis had sent a cultured

and able diplomat, one Jean de la Foret, to the Gate as his

first ambassador to the Turks. To negotiate with the enigmatic

Suleiman, De la Foret was provided with secret instructions.

(After calling on Barbarossa, to urge the admiral privately to

menace the coasts of Spain "with all manner of war." As reward,

Francis promised to ensure the 'lord Haradin" full possession of

Algiers and Tunis.)

From Suleiman De la Foret was to obtain "a million of gold,

which will be no inconvenience to the Grand Signior." After

financing the French King in this fashion, Suleiman was to

invade southern Italy with all the strength of the Turkish army

and capture Naples, while Francis took up again his periodic

march upon northern Italy beyond the Alps.

So much Suleiman was to do for Francis. In return the secret

instructions of the Most Christian King offered the Turk the

following: a French ambassador; a perpetual treaty of alliance,

friendship and trade, as between equals; the pledge of Francis

"to hold all Christianity quiet, without war undertaken against

him ... in a universal peace."

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

This last was to be achieved and Francis must have known

how greatly it would interest Suleiman by weakening the stub

born Charles until "he can no more resist/' and accordingly

"will agree to the said universal peace/'

So ran Francis' instructions to De la Foret, who carried them

out ably enough. Suleiman, who lacked Ibrahim's clairvoyant

grasp of such a situation, wanted the treaty of alliance but

deeply distrusted the military venture attached to it. He told

De la Foret, "How can I have trust in him? He has always prom

ised more than he can carry out."

Still it was a great temptation to draw down Charles where

he would have to meet the Turkish army, and thereby to gain

peace along the European borderlands. Suleiman agreed, with

some mental reservations. But unmistakably he granted whole

heartedly the new treaty of perpetual friendship and commerce

to bind the Turks to the cultured French.

By it he granted their merchant fleets freedom from duty

and the rights of the Turks themselves to trade throughout his

dominions, while they retained the privileges of foreigners.

Their churches, their law courts, and all personal affairs would

be extraterritorial in Turkey inviolate under the French flag.

This treaty, known as that of the "capitulations," established

the French as the most favored nation.' Suleiman had achieved

his wish to join in active contact with one of the greatest Euro

pean nations. It also established the principle of extraterrito

riality for Europeans among orientals, and it became a model

for future treaties as far distant as China.

It had very vital immediate consequences. Turkish soil be

came a kind of crown colony of France. It became almost the

first French outlet across the seas. (Just then Jacques Cartier

was questing along the newly discovered St. Lawrence River in

the New World, seeking a passage to Cathay in the Old World. )

Necessarily, other European merchant craft had to come in

under French colors, to obtain the capitulations privileges.

Since the French had a protectorate over their churches, that

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protectorate extended by the wording of the treaty to the

Holy Places in Jerusalem.

To Francis, this treaty of February 1536 served to cover the

secret military compact. It was a thin cover, and barely tem

pered the European condemnation of "the impious alliance*'

between the Most Christian King of France and the Osmanli

Sultan.

To the Venetians it acted like a dagger thrust. Even in Turk

ish waters they were to be superseded and their profitable

oriental trade was to be tapped by another rising nation. They

reacted with desperation.

In February 1537 a French army threaded through the

mountains to march into Piedmont. Suleiman carried out his

part of the bargain. With the Army of Europe he moved toward

the Strait of Otranto, at the mouth of the Adriatic. And Barba-

rossa took to the sea again with his new battle fleet, prepared

to make the most of all that came his way.

Foray into Italy

The heel of the boot of Italy lies flat as the sea itself. On the

far side of the strait, mountains rise behind the small fishing

port of Avlona. Out of these mountains came the Turkish ad

vance, down to Avlona. By early summer Barbarossa's galleys

cruised the strait, towing huge flatboats into Avlona.

When Barbarossa's flagship passed a Venetian craft he hailed:

"You can have done with marrying the sea; the sea is ours

now."

He ferried the advance of the asker across some 10,000

horsemen under Lutfi Pasha. For the first time in fifty-eight

years the Turks were on the Italian peninsula. They stormed

the small port of Castro, breaking their agreement to let the

defenders go free. They spread out swiftly over the fiat, marshy

heel of the land, throwing screening forces around Otranto and

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

strong Brindisi, striking inland toward the mountains and

Naples.

"We will do the choosing of the next Pope in Rome," Lutfi

Pasha's riders taunted the countryside. The main force under

Suleiman was preparing to follow, in July.

Then the kaleidoscope of European forces shifted abruptly.

Word reached Avlona that Francis, who should have been in

vading Milan, had signed a ten-year truce with his enemy

Charles, and had ended hostilities in the north!

For the second time the Sultan's slippery ally had abandoned

him in mid-campaign. More than that, the Venetian command

ers at sea were in no mood to watch the seizure of the mouth of

the Adriatic peaceably. The tensity of the situation exploded

in local conflicts. A dozen Turkish galleys were hunted into a

nest of islands and destroyed by a Venetian naval force on the

pretense that they had been identified as pirates. A great ship

bearing Yunis Bey, the long-time ambassador of the Gate to

Venice, was fired on and disabled on the excuse that it made no

recognition signal.

The French fleet remained invisible. Within these few days

Suleiman found himself deserted by Francis and engaged with

the full power of the Empire, Venice and the Papacy the last

two Francis had claimed to be friendly to him.

Quickly, early in August, he recalled Lutfi Pasha and the

raiding cavalry, which came back burdened with spoil and

captives. They had been on Italian soil only sixteen days. When

the bulk of them were safe across the strait Suleiman moved to

attack the island of Corfu, the key of the strait held by the

Venetians.

Both the Venetian fleet and Doria's battle force were con

verging on the strait. The lord admiral caught a dozen Turk

ish transports, no more.

By August 18, Barbarossa had his grip on the narrow passage

between the lovely island of Corfu lying like a jewel before the

bare coast* while the siege train of the Turkish asker was f er-

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ried over. Turkish horsemen slashed into the fertile Tiffls of

the island. Only the citadel of San Angelo held out on a rock

height.

The galleys tried to batter down the strong walls of San*

Angelo and were driven off with loss. The defenders, desperate,

drove out the inhabitants who were physically unable to man

the walls. Heavy Turkish siege guns were hoisted to rock peaks

to bear down into the citadel. It held out, as Rhodes had held so

long, under the direction of a skilled artillerist

On September 6, Suleiman halted the attack and ordered a

withdrawal from Corfu. Barbarossa argued against it bitterly.

"So much effort and cost need not be lost. Only a little time,

and we can take the place."

Suleiman's temper flared. "Such a place as this," he retorted,

"is not worth the life of one man of mine!"

He would not keep the pick of his army on the island, while

the European fleets were gathering in the offing. He left Corfu

desolate after the eighteen days, as Barbarossa had left Minorca.

The withdrawal was accomplished safely September 15. In

spite of rain and wind, Barbarossa stretched an effective mov

ing bridge of boats over the half-mile strip of water to the main

land, ferrying across guns, horses and baggage with the masses

of prisoners.

Some of the prisoners were released, however, and shipped

back to Castro on the Italian shore. Suleiman had learned of

the breach of faith by which the Castro garrison had been taken,

and he returned them to their city after executing the Turkish

officer who had broken his pledge to let them go free.

So far nothing very serious had happened to the Europeans.

What befell now, in the late autumn, was terrifying. As soon

as the last of the Turkish army landed safely on the Dalmatian

coast, Barbarossa was free to go his own way with the battle

fleet

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

From Corfu at the Adriatic's mouth, the Greek islands lie

in a vast semicircle all the way to Rhodes within sight of the

Turkish mainland. They rise like the summits of unearthly hills

from the blue of the sea. Their very names have inspired poems.

Lesbos and Andros Aegina and Mitylene, where Barbarossa

had been born.

He knew them. He saw them now as a barrier flung across

his sea, feudal demesnes of Cornaros and Mocenigos who

combed them for strong slaves to pull their oars.

Through them he swept that autumn with his amphibious

force of galleys and transports filled with the troops of Lutfi

Pasha, his rival. Ravaging Cephalonia, the guardian of the

Gulf of Corinth, passing by mountainous Zante, rounding Cape

Matapan to strike at Aegina, he sailed down the Archipelago.

Often the lovely islands where the folk tended olive groves and

listened to songs of forgotten times had no thought of war.

Their ports were seized, their hill castles battered down, fields

and villages stripped and young people herded off as slaves.

Over mighty Crete Barbarossa swept, passing by its strong

hold of Candia. On the mainland of Greece the last remaining

Venetian ports, Nauplia and Malvasia, defended themselves

and weathered the storm.

Doria lacked the force, or perhaps the inclination, to chal

lenge Barbarossa's sweep of the eastern sea.

Hajji Khalifa, the matter-of-fact Turkish historian of the

sea, relates that Barbarossa captured twelve islands and plun

dered thirteen more. Of captives the Turks took 16,000 with

spoil appraised in Constantinople at 400,000 gold sequins. By

so doing Barbarossa had won the hostile bases at sea near

Greece, and by his own reckoning had avenged Tunis. More

over, he had rid himself of the task of guarding the Aegean,

which had become a Turkish lake. (Almost a century would

pass before European fleets, except for the privileged French,

would enter its waters again.)

When Barbarossa came back at last to the Golden Horn, he

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led in to Suleiman a parade of two hundred boys in scarlet car

rying gold and silver, and as many infidels with purses slung

over their shoulders, and as many more with bales of fine cloth.

So says Hajji Khalifa.

This bit of theater probably impressed the bystanders more

than Suleiman. Yet in the short space of three years he had

gained full confidence in his Beylerbey of the Sea. The sagacious

son of a Christian potter had proved himself right in the pitiless

test of conflict. Barbarossa preferred to have the Venetians

open enemies rather than shifty friends. And certainly the

old man had drawn down on himself the full energy of the

Emperor and the Doge alike. Assuredly now they would have

to challenge Barbarossa or lose the command of the Mediter

ranean.

It suited Suleiman to have the conflict take its course out to

sea, away from his land frontier and people.

Very soon he put the newly captured island empire in the

name of Barbarossa, thus giving the old man land on the face of

the water, to justify his title of Beylerbey, or Governor-Com

mander of the Sea.

The Lost Army and the Holy League

Already, late that autumn, the two Hapsburgs had tried to

strike back at him by land.

Behind the Dalmatian coast, where he had been occupied

then, the mountains rise, wave on wave, their upland valleys

set with the stone villages of the Serbs and Bosnians. Down the

far side of that hinterland Yugoslavia today the river Drave

winds to the Danube.

Down that river Drave an Austrian army had felt its way far

into Turkish territory.

It had started out at command of the Hapsburgs. Charles

had wanted his brother to create a diversion by moving against

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the Turks from Austria. Ferdinand had broken his pledged

peace with Suleiman, to send the eastern field army of the

Empire down against the Turkish communications. He did the

very thing Charles had refused to do five years before when

Suleiman had waited for him at Guns. Ferdinand had sent the

field army of about 20,000-almost the strength of the Hungar

ians at Mohacs. "Horsemen of Carinthia, and Saxony, and Thu-

ringia," the Brief World Happenings relates, "footmen of Fran-

conia, Austria and Bohemia/'

It was commanded by John Katzianer and Ludwig Lodron,

both veterans of the defense of Vienna eight years before. It

descended the Drave, in obedience to orders, and reached

Eszek far within the Osmanli lands, where a bridge crossed the

Drave, on the main highway from Belgrade to Buda. Appar

ently unopposed, it settled down to besiege Eszek, in correct

military procedure.

Very soon the army perceived that it had camped in the

midst of mounted Turkish forces, come from Belgrade way. No

more than an easy day's ride distant lay the marshy field of

Mohacs. The army of Katzianer felt its first privation when sup

plies ran short because the foragers brought in nothing from

the countryside, cleared of grain and cattle by the invisible

enemy.

Late in November Katzianer and Lodron began to retreat

through the forests of the Drave. The retreat became a march

of terror. The road was blocked by felled trees, so that the

wagon train had to be abandoned. The Hungarian hussars de

serted at night Cannon were left behind, and powder kegs

burned.

Hunger weakened the marching column. The dark forest took

hourly toll of the men; flights of arrows swept down from the

slopes; charging horsemen cut into the column.

Then panic seized it during a night. Katzianer made his es

cape alone, leaving his tent standing, with silver plate and serv

ants. A veteran German pikeman taunted Lodron: "I can see

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easily enough that you will not run away on that fine racing

horse." Lodron dismounted and slashed his sword through the

tendons of the charger. "Now you can see that I will stay with

you/'

"After that/' the Brief Happenings relates, "it was a pitiful

thing how almost every man, whether horsed or foot, who had

not fled from the battle was slain by the charging enemy."

The lost army had been trying to reach the citadel of Valpo,

where a narrow ravine might have given it a chance to check

the pursuing Turks. People throughout the Empire heard of

the "rout of Valpo."

The memory was still stark when Richard Knolles wrote:

"This shameful overthrow at Exek was reported to have ex

ceeded the most grievous overthrows that the Christians had

received in any former time for the flower both of horse and

foot was there lost, so that many provinces were filled with

heaviness and mourning. For it never chanced before that the

Turks got such a victory without some loss."

The unfortunate Katzianer was almost the only survivor to

reach Ferdinand's court. Imprisoned by his master there, for

cowardice, he escaped and took refuge with the Turks, who

treated him with contemptuous indifference. Years kter when

they captured a peculiarly large cannon from the Austrians,

they gave it a name, as they did habitually. It was a Katzianer

cannon.

Again in that winter of 1537-38 fear made itself felt in the

western courts. No one could be certain whether the Turks

would advance in the coming summer by land or sea. Vienna,

without an army, called for aid and the Pope, Paul III, declared

that a crusade must save Europe; Charles tried to strengthen

his defense of Naples, while Venice in desperation levied a tax

of five tenths on the capital goods of its merchant families. Out

of this mutual need, the Holy League was formed, and signed

by the Pope, the Emperor and the Doge, with Ferdinand also a

member.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Perhaps the signers of the League placed their hope in an

all-powerful armada. For they agreed beforehand on the re

wards of victory. Venice was to gain back all her islands, as well

as Castel Nuovo and Avlona on the Dalmatian coast; the Em

peror all the territory in Europe that had once belonged to the

Eastern Roman Empire; the Papacy would receive such lands

as it desired.

Now here is something extraordinary. The Holy League,

hastily arranged to defend its members, agrees within itself how

the spoils are to be divided. After victory, the Osmanli Empire

is to be partitioned. The Venetians, that is, shall gain back all

that Venice ever held in its glory as far as the Dardanelles; the

Empire shall recover the grandeur of ancient Rome, even to

Constantinople itself. The Turks, apparently, must be thrust

back across the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus into Asia from

which they emerged a century before.

Grant that the League expected victory from the superior

strength of its armada; concede that Doria hoped just then to

buy over Barbarossa; still this concept of conquest after victory

remains fantastic. And Charles, then in the prime of his energy,

capable of subtle manipulation of thrones, marriages, and feudal

claims, was in no respect a fool; the harassed lords of the Illus

trious Signory were even more astute.

Jealousy appears here, with distrust. We imagine the once

potent sea lords laying down their claims to irredenta. Hearing

those claims to lost islands and trading ports at sea, the im

patient spokesmen of the Empire raised their own claims to

everything on land.

Listen in for a moment to the debate going on between the

senators in Venice. One of the Cornaros is speaking Mark An

tony Cornaro. . . . "You have agreed to a League . . . you

have felt that there would be more glory, more security in your

union with the Christians than in the peace with the Turks.

"Today, after four months, after our armed forces have rav

aged certain lands of the Sultan . . . can we renew the negotia-

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tions with him of which we ourselves broke the binding thread?

Can we obtain security by showing hesitation in such a mo

ment? Only by courage can we vanquish danger!"

Another senator rises in rebuttal. Francis Foscari is a coun

cilor old and bitter with his experience of adversity. "I do not

share either that opinion or that hope. Today ... I can only

take account of circumstances as they actually are, not as our

illusions or our pledges make them appear to us. ... I can't

think how this confidence in ourselves is suddenly born, or this

blind faith in the promises of princes who have tricked us so

often. In these circumstances a mistake would be shameful and

its consequences could be cruel.

"I fear that a fatal optimism is drawing us toward ruin . . .

we pretend to forget that two days ago one of our army captains

complained of the delay in paying his men, and warned us too

outspokenly no doubt to make peace if we could not pay the

expenses of war. Every day it is necessary to increase the

charges on our people. It is a great mistake to believe that a war

which costs more than two hundred thousand ducats a month

can be carried on by imposing extraordinary sacrifice on ordi

nary citizens."

As for the League itself, Councilor Foscari says, it can only

languish as long as undeclared war exists between the King of

France and the Emperor. Then he asks what peace with the

Turks might mean.

"We are told this peace would be neither assured nor glor

ious. I do not know how to guarantee that it would be what we

desire, but I do believe it would shelter us from the present

peril. Such a peace is not impossible. The Grand Vizir has con

stantly offered it and wanted it. He is at cross-purposes with

Barbarossa, who grows in favor through war. Barbarossa him

self wishes peace to go off to enjoy his rule in Algiers. As to the

distrust that Suleiman has, we are told, of our friendship I see

no evidence of it. He has observed the thirty-year-old treaty of

accord between us. Even now, he offers to continue it If he has

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

committed acts of violence against us, it is only just to recognize

that he has not done so without provocation. We have, perhaps,

less to complain of him, than he has of us.

"If the Turks had resolved, as some people pretend, on the

downfall of our republic, what better opportunity could they

have wished than that offered them some years ago, when all

the [European] princes were aligned against us, 1 and we had

neither resources nor outside aid?

"The empire of the Turks is immense; they are abundantly

provided with all that is necessary for war; their military dis

cipline could serve as an example to the Christians. What can

be attempted against such an enemy?"

Yet the Senate declares for war. The Emperor will pay one

half the cost of a great armada, the Pope one sixth; Venice will

contribute 110 galleys, the Knights of Malta 10. Gold and ships

arrive slowly; grain fails to come from the Spanish ports after

the harvest. The generalissimo of the Serene Republic demands

that the fleet put to sea regardless; Doria will not move until he

gets the last 50 galleys which in turn wait at Sicily for their con

tingent of soldiery from Spain.

Then Andrea Doria goes to Parga, not far down the coast, to

attempt to buy Barbarossa. He comes back with a thought that

Barbarossa may betray the Turks.

So it is late in the sailing season, September 7, before the

great armada puts out from the shelter of Corfu. But such power

has never been seen before in the Mediterranean. The long

galleys number 202, the sturdy transports 100, and they carry

2000 cannon; they bear with them 20,000 Italians, as many Ger

mans, and 10,000 armored Spaniards. Even more, a new power

lies in five huge sailing galleons with timbered sides proof

against ramming, and broadside cannon able to beat off the

light galleys of the Turks.

1 The League of Cambrai, 1508, by which the French King and Maxi

milian the Emperor with the Pope Julius II expected to partition off

Venice,

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Seven flags fly over these ships, bearing the eagles of the Em

pire, the crossed keys of the Papacy, the lion of St. Mark, the

castle of Genoa, the cross of Malta, the shield of Spain and the

crown of Portugal.

Venetian scouts have tracked the Turkish fleet coming up,

around Matapan, passing Santa Maura Isknd, and turning into

the landlocked Gulf of Arta, no more than a half day's sail away.

There Barbarossa is caught.

The Duel of Prevesa

For once Barbarossa had displayed caution. He had sheltered

himself in the gulf, oiling the keels of the galleys and refitting

while he waited for Salih Reis to join with the last-built squad

ron of twenty galleys from Constantinople. After these came in,

his strength was 120 galleys and some supply vessels. He had

no heavy galleons that the Turks called floating castles. By the

reports of his scouts he knew that he was outnumbered three to

two in vessels, and two to one in guns and men.

Presently the Turkish lookouts could see that for themselves

because the European armada came into sight, cruising back

and forth with all standards displayed.

The winding Gulf of Arta is spacious as a miniature inland

sea. Mountain walls hem it in, except for the narrow entrance

where a bar makes passage difficult in a strong surf. The town of

Prevesa at the entrance gave further protection. (Off Prevesa in

Roman days the fleet of Mark Antony and Cleopatra had gone

down to defeat, at Actium. )

Barbarossa had occupied the gulf and the town.

Such was the situation in mid-September 1538, at Prevesa.

The Beylerbey of the Sea was holed-in at the great gulf, waiting

to discover if his adversary, the lord admiral of the League,

would make the mistake of trying to force the treacherous en

trance. Dorians five dreadnoughts could not come in over the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

treacherous bar, and his galleys would be crowded inevitably

in the narrow passage, while the Turkish fleet lay in line of

battle across the miles of the tranquil gulf. Doria made no such

mistake.

Restive and anxious, Barbarossa then took out a portion of

his fleet when the sea appeared clear beyond the entrance. He

met heavy long-range fire from the Venetian fleet, and turned

back at his leisure. His trick-if trick it was-failed to draw the

main armada after him in pursuit. Again he was locked up se

curely behind his mountains. Again Doria waited and watched

offshore.

By then the autumn storms that sweep the Adriatic with

hurricane force might begin any day. And Barbarossa displayed

irresolution. Here he was immobilized with a massive battle

fleet, very different from his speedy striking force of a dozen

galleys which he had manipulated deftly out of Africa. What

was he to do?

He had a heavy responsibility. Lutfi Pasha had been dis

missed from command after the failure at Corfu the year before.

Suleiman appeared to be thoroughly disgusted with war as

waged in Europe and had taken himself off earlier in the sum

mer with his household army to the east to the steppes above

the Black Sea where he was meeting the Krim Khan. Alone,

Barbarossa faced the seven standards of Europe. He had never

beheld such power at sea before. No doubt he pondered the

strength of the floating castles.

The army officers with him urged that the troops be landed

from his vessels, with guns, to fortify the land approaches to

the gulf. They could hold Prevesa and its mountains, they said,

forever. But Barbarossa did not think Doria would attempt a

landing-

His sea rovers begged to be led out. Even if outnumbered,

they felt their craft to be more weatherly and handier than the

European ships. Salih Reis, Sinan, Beat-the-Devil, pleaded to

get loose at sea. A newcomer, Torgut, son of an Anatolian peas-

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ant who had served as pilot, kept at Barbarossa's side, pointing

seaward. (The Europeans called him Dragut and were to know

him only too well in years to come.)

So the young lieutenants urged, Barbarossa shook his head.

Out there were the new floating castles. He had counted their

guns. Around them Doria's galleys could mass, as an army

stands upon a citadel. The broadside guns of the castles of the

sea could fire over the low-lying galleys. That was what Doria

wanted for the Turks to sally out against his fortress of ships

at sea. Could Barbarossa risk the loss of the Osmanli battle

fleet?

An old eunuch spoke up, a messenger, acting as observer for

Suleiman. "What words are these?" he demanded. "You are the

Beylerbey of the Sea. Has our master not given you ships

enough, and more men and guns than you asked for? Out there

is the enemy of our master. Why do you wait here as if drunk or

sleeping?"

The taunt must have stung Barbarossa to the heart. At the

first chance he came out, to fight.

In the hope of decoying the Turks out again, Doria had

drawn off his main fleet toward Santa Maura, twenty miles to

the south, leaving only a screening force to watch Prevesa.

But Barbarossa started his squadrons out the entrance at mid

night, scattering the screening force. Before the dawn of a

misty day, September 28, he had his fleet safely out and formed,

hugging the coast

What happened then off Prevesa has been muted down in the

pages of European histories. Doria's vague excuses, the spiteful

resentment of the Venetians, the silence of the chroniclers who

had written down the strength of the armada, and the glory of

the victory to be gained by the Christians, the taciturn com

ments of the lieutenant of the Grand Master of the Knights of

St. John, of Malta all these will give you impressions of three

different battles, or of no battle at all. Out of this confusion of

195

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

tales modern naval historians have picked one certain out

standing fact the fight of the great Venetian all-gun carracks

against the Turkish galleys. So they have managed to add the

semblance of a fourth battle to the others.

Yet what happened is clear enough.

Andrea Doria says, and it is true, that at dawn of that day

he was heading offshore, to draw the Turks out of their im

pregnable gulf. Informed that the entire Turkish fleet had

emerged and was hugging the coast, he kept on with his maneu

ver to decoy them into open sea.

The wind was light and fitful from the west, against Bar

barossa. The huge sailing vessels, either unable to clear the

coast or left purposely by Doria to engage the Turkish galleys,

fell behind, and were becalmed after the first hours.

The masthead lookouts on the Turkish vessels sighted Dorians

forest of masts off the island of Santa Maura soon after day

break. Barbarossa signaled his captains to follow him and went

out after the Europeans. He struck the floating castles first,

some five of them.

The engagement began around Conduliniero's great carrack.

The heavy projectiles of its powerful battery beat off the first

wave of galleys. One was struck by a 150-pound shot that raked

it from bow to steering platform.

Barbarossa drew off and sent in his speedier galleys to fire

their heavy bow guns and veer off behind the smoke. By mid-

morning the carrack was burning, and in the dead calm the

smoke and mist afforded a screen to the galleys, which worked

in closer.

Conduliniero's ship became a dismasted drifting hulk, saved

by its broadside batteries that aimed at the water, the shot ric

ocheting among the galleys. Two other sea castles burned to the

water and were abandoned. Another, dismasted, drifted off into

the mist. By early afternoon the galleons were out of action.

On Doria's flagship, miles away, the commanders of the Ro-

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man and Venetian fleets, Cornero and Grimani, appeared. Tense

with anger, they demanded that the order be given to close the

enemy, now in scattered formation around the hulks of the

galleons. "If you think we are afraid," they cried, "then give the

order to attack that we would have given before now, if we had

held command."

Doria retorted that the other fleets must follow his, and he

would signal the proper time for action. If they obeyed orders,

they would catch the Turkish armament entire.

Barbarossa was heading after the European array with his

battered galleys, the weather thickening. He neared Santa

Maura and Doria still withdrew, losing touch with the wings

of his disordered formation.

The squadrons that got in Barbarossa's way were driven off

the Turkish wedge. Two Christian galleys trying to rejoin their

command found themselves in the mass of Turks and hauled

down their colors.

So it happened at Prevesa as it happens sometimes at sea

through the centuries the greater fleet, attempting to ma

neuver under divided, uncertain leadership, was driven by the

smaller fleet closing to fight.

Call it a mystery of the sea, say that Doria, an old man, was

befuddled by his attempts to maneuver, admit that panic seized

the Europeans, as you please. At the end of the afternoon, with

wind gusts striking down the Adriatic, driving the mist like

smoke, the Corneros, the Condulinieros and the Grimanis ran

before Salih Reis, Beat-the-Devil, Sinan and the ruthless Tor-

gut.

At the first rain squall Doria signaled withdrawal and fled

north himself before the wind. The lash of rain put out the bea

con lights on the admiral's ship.

Following hard after Doria, Barbarossa saw the guide lights

go out. And he mocked Andrea Doria for it, saying that the lord

admiral had doused his lights, to escape.

Then wind and darkness ended the conflict.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

When the two fleets finally met again it was up the Adriatic,

four hundred miles north of Prevesa, far above Corfu. Bar-

barossa held the Adriatic, and Doria's remaining vessels were

sheltered in the Gulf of Cattaro, by Castel Nuovo. There they

stayed.

Then was when the Borro struck the Adriatic, the hurricane

out of the northwest. Caught at sea by the storm, Barbarossa

lost thirty galleys. Thereafter Doria claimed that he had pre

served his battle fleet while the Turks had lost heavily.

But from Gibraltar to Gallipoli point the word passed from

ship to ship and fishing village to port that Barbarossa had won

the Mediterranean. The Empire, the Papacy and the Venetians

had put forth their utmost effort and had lost.

When the news of Prevesa was carried to Suleiman in the

eastern steppes, the Sultan rose at the first words, so that the

report was heard with all standing. At the end, he ordered the

encampment to be illuminated in rejoicing.

No one realized the consequence of Prevesa better than the

Venetians who hastened to sue for peace as Foscari had pre

dicted. It cost the Council of Ten heavily 300,000 ducats to pay

the expense of the war to the Turks, with the two ports of Nau-

plia and Malvasia remaining to them on the mainland. The

aged Doge, Andrea Gritti, father of Luigi Gritti, died of grief,

refusing to sign the peace of Prevesa which ended the sea em

pire of Venice.

The Wind of Charles

After Prevesa, Suleiman believed that his long conflict with

the Hapsburg brothers had been won. With truce on land and

victory upon the sea, surely he had gained equality in Europe

with the Emperor and his unpredictable brother. But before

long the two Hapsburgs yielded to temptation in different ways.

In Hungary John Zapolya died, who had been supported by

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Suleiman. And Ferdinand gathered together his forces to be

siege Zapolya's widow in Buda. Isabella, who had been the

daughter of the King of Poland before her marriage to the Hun

garian, had her infant son with her in that summer of 1541.

Helpless to decide what to do, she longed for nothing more

than to yield to the Austrians and escape from the strife-torn

country.

Before Ferdinand's army could force its way into the city or

Isabella act for herself, the disposal of the country was taken

out of their hands by Suleiman, who came up swiftly from the

south with the Turkish asker. As usual the King of the Romans

remained safely behind his own frontier, and Suleiman, after

punishing his army and driving it out, left him there un

molested.

No less decisively the Osmanli Sultan dealt with the young

mother, who was also a queen. His messengers brought gifts to

her and asked if it were true that this child of Johnny's was her

own? For answer Isabella bared her breast and nursed the boy.

Then the Turks explained courteously that by Moslem law their

master could not come into her presence. Instead, he wished

that her young son be sent out to him, that he might see the boy.

There was no refusing. The distraught Isabella let the child

go with his nurses and her ministers, to be carried in his cradle

through the guard of janizaris into Suleiman's tent. There the

Sultan asked his own son Bayazid to hold the child and kiss it

Before evening Isabella's boy was returned to her, with word

that the Turkish leader had promised that he would be King of

Hungary when he came of age. That night during the popular

rejoicing the janizaris quietly entered Buda.

Isabella was then removed from embattled Buda to a castle

in eastern Hungary. With her she took a letter inscribed in gold

upon purple paper. "It says," she was told, "that the Turkish

Padishah swears by the faith of his fathers and by his sword that

your son will come to the throne of Hungary when he is old

enough."

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

"A promise!" she told her counselors. "A few words written

upon paper."

"It may well be the grant of a kingdom/' they assured her.

Buda itself Suleiman kept under Turkish guard. By degrees

he turned most of Hungary east of the frontier into Turkish

sanjaks. But in doing so he revealed a new harshness. Austrian

prisoners were slaughtered. The generosity he had shown at

Rhodes twenty years before had changed to a calculating sever

ity. In truth Isabella might fear that in his written promise she

held no more than a worthless scrap of paper. Yet the inhabit

ants of Rhodes still enjoyed the freedom he had granted them;

the line of demarcation that he drew across Hungary was to

stand for a century and a half, making Vienna the frontier out

post of the Christian west, Buda that of the Moslem east. Vienna

still faces west, Buda east. ,

While Ferdinand was failing to restore the Hapsburg bastion

of middle Europe in that eventful summer of 1541 his more

gifted brother Charles embarked to regain Spanish mastery of

the Mediterranean at least of the western half, menaced after

the collapse of the allied Christian sea power at Prevesa.

In particular Charles sought to break the fantastic spell that

the name of Barbarossa had cast over the sea. Twenty years of

shuttling through his vast dominion had wearied the versatile

Charles; he could influence the councils of Europe by his per

sonal charm, but his craving for tasty foods and rare wines had

afflicted him with gout; his lifetime struggle with Martin Luther

had embittered him against heresies. Often he talked of retiring

to a monastery, there to assuage within comforting walls his re

ligious melancholy.

Yet he still embodied the fading grandeur of empire, domi

nant, Christian and European. Of him a curious Englishman^

John Morgan, wrote later, "I never met with that Spaniard in

my whole life who, I am persuaded, would not have bestowed

on me at least forty Bot a a Christo's had I pretended to suspect

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Charles V not to have held the whole Universal Globe in a

string for four and twenty hours; and then it broke/'

Such a monarch could not permit himself to be defied by a

Turkish Beylerbey of the Sea. Yet a task force of galleys flying

the green banner of Islam raided Gibraltar; another attacked a

Spanish convoy off the Balearics. A small sailing craft hailed

a fleet of Portuguese barges "Come in, Barbarossa wants you"

and the Portuguese came in obediently.

There was something fantastic in the omnipresence of Bar

barossa. A Turkish potmaker's son, fat, winebibbing, assaulting

castles to bear off beautiful girls in spite of his sixty years of

age isolating the Spanish garrisons in Africa, presuming to

claim a continent for his master the Sultan. Whatever Charles

might accomplish on land, the name of Barbarossa haunted his

coasts.

That summer, to Barbarossa's chagrin, Suleiman held him in

the eastern end of the Mediterranean. Pent up again, he offered

himself for sale again. This time he let it be known that he was

willing to sell his allegiance to Charles. Probably the sagacious

Hapsburg distrusted the offer, aware that Barbarossa received

twenty thousand gold ducats a year from his master, and re

membering that such a rapprochement had been the overture

to the calamity at Prevesa. Still, as Andrea Doria had done, he

pondered the possibility.

He gave more belief to a second offer. It came from an old

servant of Barbarossa, a certain eunuch, Hassan Agha, who had

been left in charge of Algiers. Hassan Agha proposed to sur

render Algiers to the Emperor "provided he sends an expedi

tion of such strength that surrender will appear to be a necessity

rather than treachery."

Just then Charles was preparing to do exactly that. Algiers

had been and was Barbarossa's personal holding; it was, be

sides, the one strongly fortified Moslem port close to the Spanish

coast always a sensitive point with Charles. By capturing Al

giers he could make shift to bar the Turks from the western bas-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

tion of the Mediterranean, over which, the Knights to whom he

had given the rocky islet of Malta stood guard.

With Suleiman occupied at Buda, and Barbarossa absent,

with Dragut, his most dangerous lieutenant, temporarily cap

tive, and Hassan Agha willing to sell Algiers, Charles resolved

to have it. And he held to his purpose obstinately. Hastily he

offered tolerance to the contentious Lutherans (the Book of

Regensbuxg) and hurried down to the Mediterranean,

The armada that awaited him had all the strength Hassan

Agha could have wished. Out to sea Dona's battle fleet escorted

more than 400 transports, filled with 20,000 Spanish, German

and Italian veterans commanded by the Duke of Alva, whose

name would be joined forever to bloodshed in the Netherknds.

Other peers of the realm embarked among the 3000 volunteers;

a few brought their ladies along to watch the spectacle. At sea

they were joined by galleys from Malta with 500 of the for

midable Knights and their men-at-arms. They had as guest the

lowborn but famous Hernando Cortez, conqueror of Mexico.

When autumn winds struck the armada, scattering it among

sheltering ports, the cautious Doria warned the obstinate

Charles that the stormy season had begun. It seemed absurd to

the Emperor to turn back now that his expedition had em

barked. Only a short sail separated their port of Minorca from

Algiers. No more than a few days would be needed to batter

down the slight walls of the Moslem lair even supposing that

the old eunuch did not surrender it. For Hassan Agha had only

a force of 900 Turkish janizaris, and several thousand seamen

and Moors. No, the Emperor could not withdraw from such an

undertaking, wind or no wind.

It was partly Doria's doubt, partly Charles's obstinacy, but

more it was the divided command, sailing as if to a military

spectacle, that brought about the incredible result on the dark

African coast where anger awaited them. In those few days the

armada crossed over to a malignant coast where Berber and

Arab tribes swarmed down from the heights. There was noth-

202

THE SEA

ing in that to disturb veteran troops. Easily they disembarked

along the level beaches behind the outthrust of Cape Matafu.

Without trouble they drove back the restless tribesmen. Not

bothering to wait for the main stores of food to be landed, the

Spanish tercios led the way overknd to the rocky promontory

where Algiers rose behind its curtain wall to the round tower at

the summit. No heat troubled them, in late October.

Around this small town, glistening in the sun, the expedition

dug some trenches and set up its artillery in battery. Three days,

and its commanders believed their task would be pleasantly

accomplished. Hassan Agha had not surrendered.

The wind came from the west, striking full into the shallow

bay behind Matafu. Gusts of rain followed, drenching men

whose tents had blown down. The cold ate into them. No sup

plies came up from the beachhead, where a heavy sea ran. The

hungry troops waited for food to reach them after the wind

stopped. But it rose to hurricane force. Their wet powder be

came useless.

Then from the wall of Algiers Hassan Agha attacked. His jan-

izaris could use their bows in the rain; his Moors, who had been

driven from Andalusia, carried the steel of their hatred against

the Spaniards, their former masters. The fury of this small force

started panic in the besiegers' lines.

Charles himself led a counterattack by stolid Germans, and

led it too far. Pressing close under the wall, it was decimated

by cannon fire, and gave back.

This might not have been serious, if it had not been for the

hunger of the soldiers and the greater misfortune at the beaches.

There the admiral, Doria, had taken the bulk of his galleys to

sea to ride out the gale. Instead of following him, the captains

of the transports tried to beach their craft or lost control of

them. Of the galleys and transports, 145 foundered in the surf;

survivors of their crews escaping ashore were massacred by

the tribesmen who thronged down to overpower the guard

troops and carry off the stores already landed. The three days'

203

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

storm seemed to fill the coast with human assailants who had

been invisible before.

In the mud of the half-dug trenches by Algiers, Charles and

his noblemen, and the Knights of Malta, held back the attacks

of the exulting townsmen. Until the commanding officers agreed

that they must retreat to the beaches, fifteen miles away, to get

at their supplies. The men were weakened by two days of hun

ger.

Accordingly the siegeworks were abandoned, the transport

animals killed for meat, and the retreat through the rain and

mud began, with the Knights holding the rear. Only Cortez pro

tested against it.

Once begun, the retreat broke the spirit of the massive ex

pedition. The Germans especially, with their firearms useless,

weakened under the near starvation. Encircling tribesmen,

mounted on fleet-footed horses, mocked their heavy plodding

through mud and swirling freshets. The rear of the laboring

column was held firm by the contingent of the Religion. One

height where these sworn enemies of the Turks made a stand

was named by the native Berbers "The Grave of the Knights."

When the retreating soldiery reached the beaches, only a

remnant of supplies was to be found in the shambles of ship

wreck and slaughter. Although Charles called a council of war

to decide whether they would hold their ground at the beaches

until fresh stores could be sent from Europe, there was no pos

sibility of checking the retreat. It was the last day of October,

and the angered Doria pointed out that no convoy could be

brought to their relief in winter, and that if Barbarossa came up

with his battle fleet intact the disaster to the Christians would

be complete. The mass of the soldiers had only one thought, to

get on board the surviving ships.

So the great expedition retreated to sea. There again fate

seemed to turn against it. Because more than a third of the

transport vessels had been lost, the human survivors had to be

crowded into the seaworthy shipping. There was no room left

204

THE SEA

for the splendid Spanish horses of the expedition. "Caesar [the

Emperor] decided that no lives of soldiers must be lost because

of their horses." So the Brief Happenings relates. "He ordered

the animals to be thrown into the sea. This throwing-forth of

the horses wrung the hearts of their masters/*

Greater evil followed them out to sea. Wind, rising again to

a gale, scattered the damaged vessels, driving some back into

the port of Algiers where they were seized by Hassan Agha.

Doria brought Charles to shelter with some of his galleys in the

small port of Bujeya held by a Spanish garrison. There the scant

food supply of the garrison did not serve to feed the refugees.

The weakened oarsmen of the galleys could not pull the water

logged craft out to sea against the wind.

A secret agent of the French King described the plight of the

survivors in Bujeya in his report to Francis thereafter. "Only one

carrack [ship] gained the said port of Bugeya, and there sank,

strange to relate, in the presence of the said emperor without

anything being saved from it. And in this place they endured

worse hunger than had happened to them before, since they

had only dogs, cats and herbs to eat . . . the son-in-law of the

emperor escaped in his breeches and shirt .... a great part of

the grandees of Spain in his company were lost/'

Relief vessels from Sicily took Charles and his companions

from the ill-fated port. The Sicilian captains brought with them

the information that Barbarossa had put to sea with 150 sail. ( As

soon as Suleiman, on the way back to Constantinople, heard

that the expedition of the Emperor had started for Africa, he re

leased Barbarossa, to make all speed to Algiers.)

The storms that took such toll of Charles's armada served him

well in the end because Barbarossa was pinned down during

November in the Greek islands. Portions of the expedition came

in along the European coasts, all the way from Trapani in Sicily

to Cartagena in Spain. "It has been a greater disaster than

people know, or I can write to your Majesty/* the spy assured

Francis. "He [Charles] will remember it all his life."

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

The loss of 8000 fighting men and half his warcraft did not

signify so much as the deaths of 300 noblemen of the Empire.

In one particular the observant spy emphasized the truth:

Charles never forgot the hours when, a refugee on the deck of

a Sicilian merchantman, he had heard the rumor that Barba-

rossa had put to sea with the Turkish battle fleet. In the seven

teen years of life that remained to him Charles did not venture

to go to war at sea again.

At Algiers, where the aged Hassan Agha resumed his care

taker's duties contentedly, a western gale was known for a long

time as "the wind of Charles."

The disaster at Algiers, however muted down, had an im

mediate effect upon die political kaleidoscope of Europe. Con

vinced by the reports of his agents of what had happened, the

volatile French King broke his signed truce with his lifelong

antagonist, the Emperor. The Hapsburgs had to face the crisis

of their struggle with the OsmanU Sultan, while the Beylerbey

of the Sea made the voyage he had longed for into the west,

to sweep the Italian and Spanish coasts, to besiege Nice and

to winter in Toulon as the guest of the French court.

Whatever else befell, Khair ad-Din Barbarossa had won his

conflict with middle Europe. In so doing he had made Suleiman

the unacknowledged master of the Mediterranean.

A generation later Miguel de Cervantes, satirizing the ar

mored conquistadors of his time in the deathless personality of

Don Quixote, wrote "The world was convinced that the Turks

were invincible by sea."

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Ine Quest in Asia

The Secret in the Poem

back seven years, to June of 1534. Suleiman's temper

has not yet hardened against the Europeans. His purpose

has not changed as yet. Something in Asia will draw him to it

self and make him more truly an Asiatic.

After nearly fourteen years of struggle in Europe Suleiman

the Magnificent is riding for the first time into the homeland of

his people, in the footsteps of Yavuz Sultan Selim. He has just

tried to close the book of Europe, patching up a truce with the

Hapsburgs to do so. IB Ms household the Sultan Valideh has

died, Gulbehar is in exile, Roxelana married to him. In his

thoughts he has realized that he cannot enter the society of

Europe. He is a Turk, and he will remain a Turk, alone.

What purpose has he now? He will not break his silence to

tell it. The most powerful monarch in Europe, he has hidden

himself from his own council; he has named Ibrahim Serasker

to lead the anny sending the arrogant Greek ahead to reap the

glory of a campaign in the field; behind him, his new fleet upon

which he never set foot is made over to an island peasant.

Is he a weakling? Seemingly, that could be. In this same

month Daniello de r Ludovisi says of him that he has "a melan

choly temperament, given rather to ease than to business. His

mind, it is said, is not very alert. Nor has he the force and pru-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

dence which ought to be in so great a prince, for he has given

the government of his empire into the hands of another, his

Grand Vizir Ibrahim, without whom neither he nor his court

undertake important deliberation, while Ibrahim does every

thing without consulting the Grand Signior."

Now that sounds familiar, and it is in fact what Ibrahim him

self has said Ludovisi tells a part of the truth but only what

comes from the gossip of the diplomats. Out on the sea Bar-

barossa appears to be his own master, yet by a silken thread

Suleiman guides him, and in reality until now Ibrahim has done

what Suleiman wished. Suleiman has the dangerous force of

tempered steel, even though it is sheathed. Perhaps he fears

most his own savage temper.

What purpose, then, moves him into Asia? He has confided

much in Roxelana, but she is not one to prattle. Nor has he

taken her with him on this long journey. Some words of his may

reveal the secret. Not in his laconic diary of events but in the

awkward poems he wrote for himself, signed He Who Seeks a

Friend.

One ghazel holds a human longing.

He who chooses poverty wants no stately house-

Wanting no bread or alms other than the dole of pain.

There is a sense of punishment here. This intensifies in an

other two lines: a man who scars his breast will take no joy in

the sight of a garden. Once Suleiman speaks outright.

"What men call empire is world-wide strife and ceaseless war.

In all the world the only joy lies in a hermifs rest. 9 '

Suleiman was trying to express a longing in awkward words.

The empire of conflict and power he did not want; there was a

fellowship in suffering to which he could belong. He seemed to

realize the futility of seeking that, because he invokes the pic-

tare of a religious recluse as a man who has no further cares.

That refuge was not for him.

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

With all his stubborn determination he began to search

through Asia for this Utopia that he had missed in Europe.

What Ogier Busbecq Saw

A kindly Flemish gentleman served as the last Austrian am

bassador, and, being held in polite captivity, had a rare oppor

tunity of studying Suleiman in the years of greatest strain.

Being also a philosopher with a craving for botany, Ogier

Ghiselin de Busbecq accumulated strange animals as he jour

neyed with the Sultan through Asia among them a friendly

lynx and a crane that attached itself to the soldiers, marching

beside them, and even laying an egg for one. A pet pig served

a special purpose, because the Fleming could send secret mes

sages back and forth in a bag with it, the orthodox Turks refus

ing to interfere with a pig.

Insatiably curious, Busbecq managed to watch the Sultan

with his people as few other foreigners did. At the great feast of

Bairam after the yearly fast, he contrived to be a spectator.

"I ordered my servants to promise a soldier some money and

so get me a place in his tent, on a mound overlooking Suleiman's

pavilions. Thither I went at sunrise. I saw assembled on the

plain a mighty multitude of turbaned heads, attentively follow

ing in deep silence the words of the priest who was leading their

devotions. Each kept his proper place; the lines looked like so

many hedges, near to or far from the spot where the Sultan

stood.

"The scene was charming the brilliant uniforms under the

snow-white head-dresses. There was no coughing, and no one

moved his head. For the Turks say, If you had to talk with

Pashas, you would hold your body in respectful-wise; how

much more are we impelled to the same reverence toward God?*

"When prayers were finished, the serried ranks broke up, and

the whole plain was covered with surging masses. The Sultan's

209

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

servants appeared with his breakfast, when, behold, the jani-

zaris laid hands on the dishes and devoured the food, amid

much merriment. This freedom is allowed by ancient custom,

as part of the day's festivity."

Being quartered near the camp of this household army, the

careful Fleming took the risk of inspecting it incognito. More

over, he compared what he saw to the camp of a European

army.

"I put on a dress usually worn by Christians in these parts

and sallied out with a companion or two. The first thing that

struck me was that each corps had its proper quarters from

which the soldiers were not allowed to move. Everywhere order

prevailed; there was silence, no quarrels, no bullying. Besides

there was cleanliness, no heaps of excrement or refuse. Holes

are dug for the use of the men, which are filled in with fresh

earth.

"Again, I saw no drinking or gambling, which is the greatest

failing of our soldiers. The Turks are unacquainted with the art

of losing their money at cards.

"I had a fancy also to be conducted through the shambles

where the sheep were slaughtered. There I saw but four or five

sheep which had been flayed for I think no fewer than four

thousand janizaris. They pointed out to me a janizary who was

eating his dinner off a wooden trencher a mess of turnips,

onions, garlic and cucumbers seasoned with salt and vinegar.

To all appearances, he enjoyed his vegetables as much as if he

had been dining off pheasants. Water is their only drink.

"I was at the camp just before their fast, or Lent as we should

call it, and was still more struck by the behavior of the men. In

Christian lands at this season even orderly cities ring with

games and the shouting of drunkenness and delirium. But dur- '

ing the days before fast, these men do not allow themselves any

extra indulgence in the way of food or drink. Nay, rather, by

cutting down their usual allowance, they prepare themselves

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

for the fast, for fear they should not be able to endure the

sudden change.

"Such is the result of military discipline, and the stern laws

bequeathed them by their ancestors. The Turks allow no crime

to go unpunished. The penalties are degradation from office,

loss of rank, confiscation of property, the bastinado, and death.

Not even the janizaris are exempt from the bastinado. Their

lighter faults are punished with this stick, their graver with dis

missal from the service or, removal to a different corps, which

they consider worse than death."

Ogier Busbecq marveled at the endurance of these men under

punishment or privation. He sensed the fact that janizaris

would choose to be beaten numb by staffs rather than be sent

away from their fellowship. Unwittingly he touched upon a

vital weakness of the Turks, in the cherished plumes of the

veteran janizaris. They craved some bit of splendor on their

bodies. In the same way, aghas spent a year's pay for a silver-

worked saddle; sanjakbeys went into debt to gain ceremonial

robes of tissue of gold. Did not the illustrious Ibrahim, Bearer

of the Burden, and the Sultan himself set this example of per

sonal magnificence?

The Enemy in Asia

Suleiman was going not to the luxurious cities of the Nile or

the holy cities of Mecca and Jerusalem he never laid eyes upon

these but into the hard northeast, to meet a threat to his

dominion. He was riding back upon the path of Osmanli migra

tion to solve a problem that was almost impossible to solve.

The growing power of Persia was pressing into his eastern

borders, and with the shahs of Persia he neither wished nor

could allow a major war. Here in the east grim Sultan Selim

had clashed violently with the equally aggressive Shah Ismail,

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

and both nations felt the wounds and the bitterness of that

clash, after which it was said that Ismail never smiled.

While absent for fourteen years, Suleiman had tried to pre

serve a live-and-let-live peace through nearer Asia. His ships on

the river Don traded with the frontier posts of the Muscovite

grand princes; he sent gifts including janizaris and cannon to

demonstrate his force without using it to the still distant

moghuls of India and the Turkish Uzbeks of Samarkand.

In Tabriz, Shah Ismail a mystic, follower of the schismatic

Sbf a faith-had respected the unwritten truce. Not so his more

realistic son Tahmasp. With the Osmanli away from the east,

Tahmasp had seized Turkish Bitlis, the stronghold of great

Lake Van. His horsemen had appeared at Baghdad on the

Tigris River, a holy city. To this Venetian envoys had egged him

on, laboring skillfully to loose the power of the Shah in war

against the backs of the Osmanlis. Such a war would relieve the

pressure against Vienna and the Mediterranean. If it could be

brought about! (Busbecq himself would write before long:

" Tis only the Persian stands between us and ruin/')

And here the vastness of his domain handicapped Suleiman.

The Austrian frontier lay as far nearly a thousand miles by

roac [--to the northwest of Constantinople as the Persian border

lay to the east. Depending as it did upon grazing, the Turkish

army could not move between these frontiers in the same year.

Where the army went, it expected the Sultan to go, and with

him went the Organization. Ibrahim urged him to finish the

task S'elim had begun, and crush Persia.

As protector of the holy cities, the Sultan could not allow the

loss of Baghdad. Poets invoked his aid as "the friendly, foe-

destroying warrior." And as head of the war-born Osmanli state

he could not well allow ancient Turkish strongholds to be

snatched away under his eyes. "Yavuz Sultan Selim," his aghas

reminded him, "would carry fire and sword through the heret

ical Persians."

This problem Suleiman met as usual with a solution of his

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

own. While he had remained in Constantinople to watch events,

using Barbarossa to amuse the Europeans, he had sent Ibrahim

eastward with the bulk of the army, to retake Baghdad.

But Ibrahim had departed from his orders, to turn instead

into the mountains around Van, to regain the frontier posts by

some brilliant diplomacy and then to push on through the

heights to the blue-tiled domes of Tabriz, the capital city of

Shah Tahmasp. No great battle had been fought because the

Persians would not risk their main strength of horsemen against

janizaris and artillery. Only raids had been flung against the

advancing Turkish asker. Detachments of Turks going out

against the raiders were cut off and destroyed, while the army

at Tabriz faced the coming of winter in the mountains. More,

it complained bitterly of the absence of its Sultan.

"The Vizir at Tabriz," messengers related to Suleiman, "is

like one drunk with victory. He swears that he alone gains the

victories which the Lord of the Two Worlds can no longer

achieve."

Then a courier showed Suleiman an order of the day for the

army. Ibrahim had signed it as Serasker Sultan.

There could not be two sultans. At sight of the signature

Suleiman started east, to take command of the army.

Journey into the Past

In doing so he followed a strange route. He was meeting the

Asiatics in their homelands for the first time. And he was also

opposing himself to a force that could not be checked by jani

zaris and guns.

The new shahs of Persia were Sufis, Wool-wearers, men who

followed after dreams. The Shfa, their religious faith, had be

come the creed of Persia. They mocked the orthodox Osmanli

imams who castigated them as heretics. In their memory the

wild Ismail had become a saint, performing miracles. This tide

213

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

of the enthusiasm of the Shfites had swept far into Anatolia.

There the dervish orders were caught up in it. In venturing

among them, Suleiman faced a rising fanaticism as intangible as

the night wind that swept his encampment.

He met this religious unrest by journeying as a pilgrim, with

a small following. Swinging south, he paused at Koniah where

the Seljuk sultans had dwelt, to pay honor to the tomb of the

greatest of the poets and mystics, Jallal ad-Din Rumi. At this

shrine where towers soared against the night sky, his coming

must have pleased the Mevlevi dervishes who flocked around

him. To the wild summons of their drums and flutes they danced

before him, whirling as spirit seized upon them, emerging from

their trance to tell him that the Sultan of Spiridand had spoken

to them, predicting success for Suleiman in Persia.

The farther he went, the more the ties of Constantinople fell

away from him. Around him gathered human beings who lacked

both education and fear.

Skullcapped dervishes, monks from the monastery of Hajji

Bektash, Kalendars striding up with their long staffs, they

thronged his sitting pkce in caravan serais, or watched at his

tent entrance until he slept. Lean brown men called to him

plaintively, "Lawgiver, Conqueror Sultan Suleiman Khan!"

They voiced their merriment. "So you are alive. You are not

merely a name. We can see you! You eat rice with saffron. Well,

what have you in mind for us beggars?'*

Peasants, walking wide-legged, brought Tifm fruit to eat, and

their children to care for, chanting, "Chelebi, biza onutma!

Lord, forget us not!"

Over the red clay plain Suleiman rode to the granite upthrust

of the mountains. Bektashi babas ran with his troops, perform

ing small miracles at night, by the fires. They peered at him and

they challenged him. "Say^ Sultan Khan, what do you in the

far city?"

"I bring water in, by aqueducts."

*Water is dean only in the channels made by God. What

214

THE QUEST IN ASIA

good is it to build walls that will tumble into clay and stones

in another age?"

Suleiman thought of the ruins of Byzantine palaces, the

blackened column raised by the Romans. "What, then?" he

asked.

"The Lord of the Two Worlds comes with an army, and with

money. Why do you bring money? The infidel Feringhis must

have money, to eat, but you have only to ask and we shall give

you food. You bring an army, but the Shilte Shah wrote poems

urging us to rebel. Nay, we did not rebel, but the poems were

fine to read, saying that he came with the rain and shone with

the sun, and soon he would be master of Rum."

By Rum they meant the Turkish land, which ignorant folk

knew only as Rome. Their minds had changed no more than

their fields and forests. The scent of fir wood Timing, the dry

sweet smell of the desert, caught at Suleiman.

"Such poems are like wine, the red mad thing." He wished

that he could write winged words, or hold these listeners as the

babas did by the spell of his voice.

"Not wine of the flesh wine of the spirit!"

Past the headwaters of the Euphrates Suleiman rode, past

stone villages of ancient folk where women gathered in wheat

unveiled. Still the strange inquisitors came to his knee, asking

his answers to the mysteries of their life "These days are evil.

Did God create evil to mislead men?"

"Whom he wills he misleadeth, whom he wills he guideth."

"In what way? By what sign will we know his guidance? Say,

Lord of the Two Worlds, by what sign do you draw your reins

to the east?"

By what sign? By the sickness in the mind of the arrogant

Ibrahim.

Above him echoed the bells of domed Armenian churches.

Above the dark forest mesh rose the snow peaks that marked

his way. For days he watched one of the sentinel peaks, shining

at sunrise,, and glowing again when the first stars showed. At

215

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

AkHat he dismounted to go to the tomb of Osman, the first of

the ten sultans his ancestors. "By this sign I go/ 7 he said.

On the rock pinnacles around him beacon fires made points

of flame, lighted by the wild Kurdish tribes. Their chieftains

rode down in splendor to behold the Sultan who had been only

a name to them.

Greeting them, Suleiman thought: Ibrahim will never yield

up his rank and responsibility, and I cannot. He thought fleet-

ingly of putting aside his sword and departing forever from his

place in the Divan and his care, going on foot which he had

never done to the monastery of the Bektashis, to rest his body

and meditate. So had his grandfather departed from Constanti

nople to go to his home, and had died on the way. . . .

Early in the autumn he reached the Turkish army waiting

at Tabriz in the mountains. He took the command from Ibrahim.

He would not listen to the officers who came to his stirrup to

complain that the askeris were starving in the winter cold.

Strangely, once they had seen Suleiman's standard with the

seven white horsetails, the men of the asker recovered their

spirits. Through mud and snow he brought them down to the

desert of the twin rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. Transport horses

died of starvation, and the heavier cannon were abandoned,

buried in the mud where the elusive enemy could not find them.

Once safely in the desert, the army was free of the cold and

the harassing attacks of the Persian horsemen. Suleiman fol

lowed the Tigris down, to capture Baghdad and winter there.

Entering the city of the illustrious kalifs, he allowed no looting

or injury to the inhabitants. The place had become a shell,

touched with the fading splendor of Harun the Blessed.

Yet the army took vast encouragement from Baghdad. Its

Sultan had brought it to the city protected by God; now in

reality Sultan Suleiman would take the place of the kalif s dead

in their graves. The mantle of the Protector of the Faithful

would fall upon hfm.

A dervish who tended the shrines chanted a prophecy. "I see

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

in him the aspect of the Prophet knowledge mingled with

mercy. ... I see again the White Hand of Moses taking up

the sword. ... I behold the Leader of our time in the rose

garden of Faith!"

There was even a miracle in the cemetery across the river.

A caretaker of the tombs professed to have found the bones of

a vanished saint under a grave slab without marking. Sum

moned to the spot, Suleiman entered the grave below the slab

well aware that the marvelous discovery had much to do with

his arrival in Baghdad. Descending a ladder, he found beneath

him a skeleton wrapped in linen scented with musk, lying

toward Mecca. By certain signs known to the tenders of the

tombs, the bones were proclaimed to be those of the sainted

imam, Abu Hanifa.

The army took this to be a sign that the Sultan verily had

been guided by God.

So intangible a thing is faith. A featherweight of fact, slight

as the memory of a dream, yet drawing human beings where

whips cannot drive them. The heretic Persians had thrown off

shields and armor, to go against Turkish steel with their bodies

bared. . . .

The Case of Iskander Chelebi

In Baghdad that winter he had to judge his other self,

Ibrahim. There was no escaping it. He held in his hand a sheet

of paper with a few words written in Iskander Chelebf s familiar

calligraphy. These words forced him to sit alone in judgment

upon the oblivious Ibrahim. "In the name of God the all-pitying

and compassionate, in the hour of death I testify that I, Chelebi

the Defterdar, conspired to mulct money from the army sup

plies, and entered into treacherous agreement with the heretical

Persians to defeat my master the Sultan. Also I swear that

Ibrahim the First Vizir was joined with me in this treachery,

and besides paid assassins to take the life of the Sultan/'

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

All of it was, Suleiman knew, a lie. Yet many people knew

that he had it, who held the word of a dying man to be in

violable.

Carefully Suleiman reviewed the case of the great Treasurer.

A Turk, bound by old customs, Chelebi had long been a rival of

the brilliant Ibrahim. They had vied with each other in the size

of their following arid the splendor of their uniforms. Unfor

tunately Suleiman had sent Chelebi as lieutenant to Ibrahim

with the army.

After that their feud became deadly. When Chelebi packed

the money chests on camels for one day's march, Ibrahim's

guards seized his men, swearing that the gold was being stolen.

A foolish trick. Probably in revenge Chelebi persuaded Ibrahim

to move on Tabriz, to enhance his glory. And, obliviously, the

Vizir did so ... claiming that the army failed against the

Persians because Chelebi had not kept up the service of sup

ply. . . .

Then Ibrahim brought these charges against the elderly Turk,

and had him executed. So greatly Chelebi hated the Vizir that

he signed this confession, implicating Ibrahim.

No, there was no truth in the words, except what they im

pliedthat the wealthy Treasurer had been no more guilty than

the Vizir who put him to death. Ibrahim had been the one to

urge the Persian war on Suleiman. In his self -intoxication Ibra

him had signed himself Sultan. Never intending to assassinate

Suleiman, he had thought himself to be greater than the man

who had raised him up ... from the night, thirteen years be

fore, when Suleiman had pledged his word that he would never

dismiss his friend in disgrace from the vizirate . . . how many

times the Christian apprentice had shown contempt for the dull

mind of his Turkish master . . . yet the only thing that could

not be forgiven was the death of Cheleti.

Suleiman decided that Ibrahim must have the same fate as

Chelebi, when they returned to Constantinople.

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But he dould not turn his back on his antagonist, the Shah,

who had recaptured Tabriz and seized the mountain passes dur

ing his absence in Baghdad. In bleak anger Suleiman took his

Turks up to the heights again, thrusting deep into Persia, sight

ing the oil-flecked waters of the inland sea, the Caspian. He

stormed and sacked Ardibil, the old home of the shahs. Before

him the enemy withdrew again. The land had been devastated,

the pasturage consumed.

If Suleiman detached forces from his main array, they were

cut off and annihilated. Under such conditions he knew it to be

useless to try to hold any portion of Persian land. Turning back

to Tabriz, he stripped the city, and burned the palaces. Then he

led his army homeward, toward grazing land and untouched

crops.

With Ibrahim and his personal escort he went on swiftly to

the Serai at Constantinople.

There he threw himself into the daily hearings of the Divan,

keeping Ibrahim at his side, and sleeping little. Until the eve

ning when, the last reports put away in the folders, he ordered

food brought to the two of them in his private audience hall.

Often they had shared this last meal during the years that

Ibrahim had been Vizir of the empire. That night, sitting in his

accustomed place, Ibrahim no longer thought it strange to be

eating from the same dishes as the Osmanli He was rather an

noyed that he had not been freed to go to his own palace, where

he had the count of the day's gifts to take.

Aware that Suleiman was brooding as usual, he said care

lessly, "You have given a lashing to the Persian dogs. They will

lick their wounds for a long time."

"Yes," Suleiman acknowledged. Then suddenly he said, "The

war was not well advised."

When he left to go to his own sleeping chamber, lie asked

Ibrahim to remain. As usual, Ibrahim sought the mattress

placed for him in the alcove.

The next morning the walk of the alcove were streaked with

219

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

blood. The body of the First Vizir who had been Suleiman's

favorite was found outside the entrance to the Divan, with an

executioner's bowstring knotted around the throat.

Of Ibrahim the Moslems said: "He was caught in the net of

imagination of power." The Venetians said, "He loved himself

better than his lord/'

The Power and the Glory

The stains of Ibrahim's lifeblood were allowed to remain on

the alcove walls. When young ajem-oghlans foreign boys who

served in the palace gardens started to wash away the brown

streaks the next day Suleiman forbade them to do it. Years later

attendants swore that the stains had been left, as a lesson. But

to whom?

Suleiman never explained His silence now became notable,

and older servants fancied that his eyes and mouth grew to re

semble those of the Yavuz Sultan, his father. "It is the suffering

of responsibility," they said. "From it there is no moment's rest

until the hours of sleep."

Having killed Ibrahim, Suleiman had to assume all the

burden of government. He went himself to the Treasury when

the secretaries had collected there the vast stock of valuables of

the great Vizir. Among them he found a drinking bowl of lapis

lazuli, his own gift, and the ruby signet ring of the French King,

Francis ... he had tried to give all credit for their mutual ac-

complishments to Ibrahim, from that first battle of Mohacs. . . .

Now he was alone. As First Vizir he named an old Turk, Ayas

Pasha, heavy with good eating, the father of uncounted chil

dren. Ayas Pasha laughed at the story that he kept forty cradles

filled at a time in his harem. No title of Serasker went to this

obedient servant who enjoyed an afternoon row on the Bos-

phoras more than a session at the Divan. Ayas Pasha merely

said, "It will be as God wills." Suleiman read the petitions and

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

signed the orders alone. But the merriment of the old Turk

eased the Sultan's brooding.

For five years from Ibrahim's death in 1536, the cautious care

of the Osmanli brought his people to their greatest glory. (The

first treaty with the French had been signed; then followed the

foray into Italy, the defeat of the Holy League at Prevesa, the

surrender of Venice, the promise to Isabella's son, the disaster to

Charles at Algiers, and new victories over the Austrians in the

perennial conflict of Hungary. )

Suleiman led the asker himself . Neither the feudal armies nor

his household janizaris and spahis would follow an Ayas Pasha.

Old custom, in this particular case, was stronger fh?n the will of

the Sultan. Suleiman tried a new experiment, to increase the

number of the janizaris and spahis, who would have to obey his

personal orders.

The janizaris rose from 12,000 to some 18,000 and the elite

horsemen accordingly. By strengthening the two corps subject

to his immediate command, Suleiman increased the danger to

himself, if the household troops should turn against him.

Such danger appeared slight, in the flood tide of the Sultan's

achievement and popularity. Moreover, final authority did not

rest in the hands of the Sultan himself. The Mufti, arbiter of

the religious Law, could write a few words declaring that the

master of the Serai had offended the Law, and Suleiman would

no longer be Sultan. So, at least, tradition had it.

There was small chance of that. The judges of the Law

realized that to the tireless Suleiman would succeed his popu

lar son, the well-loved Mustafa. No sane judge of Islam would

interfere with such auspicious leadership.

Nonetheless, Suleiman was very conscious of the cleavage

widening between the Law and his Organization. It was like

the rift between Church and State among European nations.

The earth was God's. The Sultan merely served as caretaker of

the Osmanli portion. His School studied new sciences; his

221

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

officers, from Vizir to the youngest ajem-oghlan seeding flower

beds and the lowliest defter balancing accounts, all served the

everlasting interest of God. The Law endured, while sultans

abode only their destined hour. The religious Law held fast to

its properties; it remained traditional, Turkish. Families ad

ministering the unchanging Law kept their libraries, their be

liefs and their estates. The orthodox Turkish Law stood still,

while the young, foreign and Christian-bred Organization pro

gressed.

Until now Suleiman had thrown his support to the Organiza

tion. To do so, he had disregarded the criticism of individual

Turkish judges that he was being guided more by European

ideas than by the precepts of the Koran. Now, after his journey

to the shrines of Asia, he turned more to the Koran.

So for a few years the educated Organization remained in

balance with the ritualistic Law. Such a balance seldom endures

for long within a growing dominion.

During the twelve years after Ibrahim's fall Suleiman led his

army out only twice, in vast parades to restore his frontier line,

as when he pledged Isabella that her son would be King.

On the Steppes of Asia

Suleiman loved the prairies. If the Hungarian plain was to

be his purgatory, the steppe of the Vlakhs (Wallachians) to

the east of the great circle of the Carpathians was his paradise.

For one thing he was journeying at ease through fine grass

lands around the sea that had become a Turkish lake (and

Suleiman fully intended to keep it so). Karadeniz, the Black

Sea, was quite as important to the Osmanlis as the Mediter

ranean. Suleiman himself held the title of Lord of the Two Seas

(the White and the Black). True, Italian shipping had monopo

lized it as late as the time of the Golden Horde when the

brothers Polo did business there, in lovely ports like Kaffa and

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

Trebizond. All such ports with their fondacos had fallen to the

Turks, as far as the dim heights of the Caucasus at the distant

end of the sea. Even through the Caucasus, Suleiman's com

mand was heeded attentively, even if not always obeyed.

The Venetian merchants who carried the bulk of the Black

Sea trade, however, obeyed Suleiman of necessity. Being hope

lessly inept as traders, the Osmanli Turks were quite content

to let the merchants of San Marco carry on business as usual,

paying tribute for the privilege of bearing away the wines and

wax, the cattle and grain of this tranquil sea.

The question of the traffic by sea being so easily disposed of,

Suleiman devoted himself to keeping order along the shores,

and he f ound this a most pleasant task. His heart inclined to it,

for he had spent his youthful years of dreaming at Kaffa; his

mother and Gulbehar had come from these shores.

In a very true sense, at such a time, the son of Selim was re

turning home. The folk of the countryside spoke Turkish; they

bred the finest horses, and they looked to him as the arbiter of

their fate. They brought him gifts of milk and horses and gold

strained from running streams by gypsies, and they went from

his presence joyfully.

Here he was more truly Suleiman Khan than the Osmanli

Sultan. More than that, he was the king of the nomads who had

mastered city life and returned accoutered in splendor, still

dwelling in a tent a pavilion of dream stuff with such power

in his hand and word as the nomad princes had never con

ceived. With a single command he could invoke the thunder of

massed siege guns, or the terrifying tread of ranked janizaris.

So long as he lived Suleiman never made use of those guns or

that soldiery along the shores of the Black Sea*

The familiar road to the steppes was in itself a joy to himu

(No Roxelana accompanied him.) It led over the mightiest

rivers, the Danube where the dwellings of the Vlakhs were

scented with sweet herbs, where those Christian folk drank

white wine and red and danced to their gypsy flutes at horse

22S

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

fairs. Then through the cypress forests of the Transylvanians,

with the snow peaks of the Carpathians against the sky line-

past the vestiges of Roman baths, and gleaming sand beaches,

to the river Pruth where he had heard the tidings of Prevesa

and the prairies of the Dniester. The Christian folk here still

cherished legends of Rome, calling themselves "Rumans" and

their land Rumania. Like the Transylvanians, they were free

of the rule of Turkish sanjakbeys, but they paid a light tribute.

Among this Christian folk of his kingdom by the sea there

were children of Greeks who had learned tricks from the Vene

tians. They could blow molten glass into vessels of different

kinds; they had made printing types and with these they printed

crude books.

Beyond these stoneless prairies stretched the true steppe, of

dry grass so high that it reached a rider's girdle. On this dry

sandy steppe where mighty Father Dnieper swirled to the sea,

the folk moved as nomads, following the water. Out of the

steppe grass the round summits of Islamic tombs and mosques

arose. Here Suleiman gained a new attribute, as a leader of the

faith. The steppe folk who dismounted at their whitewashed

shrines felt awe of the man who could speak a word and have

it obeyed as far as a rider could speed in a month.

Suleiman camped where salt marshes gleamed in the star

light Far in the north lay the frontiers of two Christian mon-

archs, both friendly. The King of Poland bore him good will

because they had enemies in common; the Grand Prince of

Moscow conciliated him with gifts of sables because the Tatar

khans, the old antagonists of Moscow, obeyed him.

Scarcely heeded by Suleiman, certain refugees from Polish

and Muscovite lands were drifting down the rivers into the

free steppe. In the reed-grown islands of Father Dnieper they

hid their dwellings; they pushed down the river current in their

long boats. In the steppe itself their villages sprang up in the

space between Muscovite guard posts and the paths of the

Tatars. They became wanderers, settlers and fighters, known

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

to the elder steppe dwellers as Cherkasks, or Kazaks, Wander

ers. Along the tranquil-flowing Don, in the fertile black earth

region these "Cossacks" thrived.

Another refuge of peoples on the Black Sea Suleiman knew

well. In the Crimea, joined to the great plain only by a narrow

neck of land, remained vestiges of all who had passed that way,

survivors of Goths who still spoke their Germanic tongue,

holed up in the stone height of Mankoup Kale, Greek artisans,

Jews who had crossed the steppe, and chiefly the Tatars who

were still ruled by descendants of Genghis Khan. These dwelt

in crude blue-tiled palaces in the gardens of Bagche Serai, as

masters of the Krim Horde.

Apparently Suleiman never ventured back into the fastness

of the Crimea where he had come to know the Krim khans so

well; perhaps that same knowledge kept him from doing so.

Even now he had fewer Turkish families behind him than there

were Tatar yurts in the steppes as far as Astrakhan on the

inland Caspian Sea that he had sighted from the Persian high

lands, and Kazan up where the Volga River bent to the south.

Here the three hordes numbered their riders, as their sheep, by

the tens of thousands. They watched the Osmanli as dogs eye

a lone wolf. For some reason payments to the Krim Khan were

carried on the books of his treasury as "pay of the dog-keeper."

Sons of the khans had come to dwell in Constantinople to be

educated in Turkish ways. For the orderly Turkish government

remained a mystery to these surviving nomads, and they re

spected Suleiman's power as something of a miracle. They were

willing to join him in raids into Christian Europe, as when they

ravaged Austria with him.

Evidence of Suleiman's influence upon the Krim khans

showed in different ways, some of them unexpected. One khan

after a visit to Constantinople ordered the kibitkas or tent

wagons of his people to be broken up, hoping to make them

townsdwellers like the prosperous Osmanli Turks. Another

225

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

spent his "dog-keeper s pay * at Bagche Serai in building public

baths, water channels and small palaces in Turkish fashion.

Meanwhile Suleiman named the successors to the khans, and

supplied them with a token force of janizaris who helped to see

that his commands were carried out and an imposing battery

of heavy cannon.

These last the Krim Tatars promptly transported in wagons

over the steppe, to aid them in battering at the fortified height

of the Muscovite Kremlin. Sahib Ghirei, who conceived this

notion, also sent the regiment of janizaris to see that the guns

were cared for. Afterward he explained by letter to Vasily, who

was then Grand Prince of Moscow, that this invasion had been

a mistake, because he had sent his people to fight Lithuanians

and of their own accord they had taken the road to Moscow in

stead. His captains felt aggrieved, it seemed, because they took

in so little tribute from the Russians and they complained,

"What good do you have from any friendly exchange with the

Russians? Hardly one sable skin a year, while war gets us thou

sands." "This," added Sahib Ghirei, "shuts my mouth. As for

you, you can make your choice, but if we are to remain friends

your presents to me must equal in value at least three or four

hundred prisoners. To that you had better add a gift of gold and

silver money, and well-trained falcons, with a baker to make

bread and a cook also."

In such carefree fashion did the Turks have their first contact

with the Russians who were to become their most persistent

enemies. Suleiman himself was careful to keep aloof from the

conflicts that swept over the steppes and passed on like storm

clouds. He dignified the Krim khans by announcing his victories

elsewhere to them as he did to his outer friends (whether

tribute-paying or not), the doges of Venice, the sherifs of

Mecca, the Mameluke princes of Egypt, and the Council of the

free city of Ragusa.

Yet he made one move to control the Tatars who hemmed in

tibe Russians. It was very remote and quiet control; he explained

226

THE QUEST IN ASIA

that as lie helped the Krim Tatars to choose new leaders, he

would aid also those of the khanates of Kazan and Astrakhan.

As it happened, this was only a few years before a boy with

strange fancies came to the throne of Moscow, as Ivan IV. This

prince insisted on calling himself the Tsar, and he became

widely known as Ivan the Terrible. Almost his first move toward

greater power was to be against the Moslem Tatars of Kazan

and Astrakhan.

Meanwhile in 1543 Suleiman called the son of Sahib Ghirei

to accompany him on another march around Hungary, at a time

when a drama was being played on another stage of conflict^

the Mediterranean, with Khair ad-Din Barbarossa as chief actor.

Barbarossas Last Jest

Of late years Suleiman had let the stalwart Beylerbey of the

Sea have his way upon the Mediterranean for several reasons.

Barbarossa was pulling off miracles at no expense but an actual

profit .to the Treasury. In so doing he required nothing but

timber, sailcloth and powder and twenty to thirty thousand

men, half of them captive Europeans, to pull the oars. Of all

these ingredients Suleiman had a superabundance, and Bar

barossa had a habit of bringing back more than he took out*

Moreover, this energy of the old man of the sea exactly fitted the

Sultan's new determination to risk not the life of one Janizary

beyond his frontiers in Europe, while frastrating the Christian

monarchs by sea.

In the spring of 1543, however, Barbarossa asked a great

favor. As admiral of the Osmanli Empire, he wanted to take

his fleet across to France.

The kaleidoscope of the European courts had fallen into a

new pattern after Charles's debacle at Algiers. The English

Henry VIII had forsaken the French to espouse the cause of

the Emperor. At the same time the aging Francis returned to

227

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the attack upon northern Italy which had been the dream of

his youth and the nostalgia of his old age whether or not en

couraged by his Italian daughter-in-law, Catherine, who had

been- a Medici. Again he besought his unacknowledged allies

the Turks to aid him by invading the Empire, Suleiman with

the army by land, Barbarossa with the fleet by sea, this time in

junction with the French fleet.

Formidable as such an attack may have seemed to Francis

and it worried Charles greatly it came to little. Suleiman, who

no longer had any interest in joining the concert of Europe as

friend or foe, merely made one of his marches around the Hun

garian plain where neither Ferdinand nor the German armies

cared to meet him, after the rout at Valpo. In doing so he

gathered back the towns Ferdinand had seized beyond the

Austrian frontier. It was very different with Barbarossa.

He begged for permission to sail to the far west, there to end

his duel with Doria and the Emperor as the guest of the Most

Christian King of France. Only after long hesitation did Sulei

man allow his admiral to depart with the main force of 110 gal

leys and 40 auxiliaries, manned by some 30,000 souls. It was a

great stake to risk entire. But Suleiman remembered Prevesa

and let the old seafarer go.

Barbarossa sailed happily from Gallipoli Point. What he did

thereafter has been nearly deleted from the European historical

record; but it is a story worth restoring, from Barbarossa's

point of view.

Entering the tricky tides of Messina Strait, his ships are fired

on by the castle at Reggie. Unexpectedly to the castle folk,

Barbarossa puts back at the shots. Storming the castle, he finds

within it a striking girl, daughter of the commandant, a certain

Don Diego. Appropriating the girl, he bestows Turkish rank on

her parents, as his new in-laws.

Up the coast he puts in to Civita Vecchia and terrifies the

people of that seaside resort by simulating an attack (French

liaison officers with him persuade him that the port, belonging

228

THE QUEST IN ASIA

to the Papal State, is now friendly to France). Heading out

to sea unmolested, he arrives at the rendezvous in the Gulf of

Lyons with his co-commander, Fra^ois Bourbon, Due

d'Enghien, who salutes him with all ceremony. But D'Enghien

has very little force with him, only 22 galleys and a baker's

dozen of broadside-firing galleons. Barbarossa is not content

until the junior officer with the lesser fleet hauls down his

banner and hoists the green flag with the crescent.

The French prove to be less desirous than the Turks of seek

ing a battle at sea. Barbarossa cannot see the sense of gathering

a fleet of more than 200 sail and doing nothing with it. He

stipulates for the capture of Genoa where Andrea Doria has

sheltered the remainder of the imperial fleet. The French ob

ject. D'Enghien complains of lack of powder. Barbarossa vents

his anger: "Are you seamen, to fill your casks with wine instead

of powder?"

He lends powder to the French, who agree to allow him to

take Nice. The Turks beset the town, which surrenders, except

for the citadel where a Knight of Malta rallies a defense. Before

the Turks can batter their way into the citadel they hear that an

imperial army is advancing on Nice, and they re-embark, after

ravaging and burning the town.

With the sailing season ending, Francis offers his guests the

port of Toulon for winter quarters. He instructs his lord lieu

tenant of Provence "to lodge the lord Barbarossa sent to the

king by the Grand Turk, with his Turkish army and grand

seigneurs to the number of 30,000 combatants during the

winter in his town and port of Toulon . . . for the accommoda

tion of the said army as much as for the well-being of all this

coast, it will not be suitable for the inhabitants of Toulon to

remain and mingle with the Turkish nation, because of difficul

ties which might arise."

When the lord lieutenant removed the bulk of the population

of Toulon to Marseille, he prudently took away the cannon

also. However, the dreaded Turks, moving into Toulon for the

229

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

winter, merely demanded that food be supplied them, and the

church bells be not rung.

Such inaction, comfortable though it might be, grieved the

Turkish brotherhood of the sea. Before the winter storms ended,

Salih Reis was off raiding down the adjacent coast of Spain.

Their galleys combed through the Balearics. Captives fetched

back were sold in the markets of Marseille. Francis began to

fear that Barbarossa might sell Toulon itself to Charles.

Barbarossa proved to be deaf to any suggestion that the cam

paign was ended and he should return home now that the sail

ing season was at hand. At Toulon he had a splendid base, next

door to the Emperor's homeland of Spain, and to Dona's native

city of Genoa. Thence he could operate at the expense of the

King of France. The lord lieutenant complained that he "takes

his ease while emptying the coffers of France."

If the French were not minded to put to sea to carry on the

war to which they had summoned him, Barbarossa did not share

their inclination. Why should he? His crews were not raiding

Spain; they were returning to the homeland from which, as

Aiidalusians, most of them had been driven by order of Charles.

And as admiral of the fleet of the Grand Turk, ally of Francis,

was he not expected to maintain an offshore blockade of the

imperial coasts, and take in what merchantmen he could find?

Having put a stop to navigation in the western Mediterranean

other than his own, Barbarossa refitted his vessels at Francis*

expense in the dockyards, and from the comfortable terrace of

the lord lieutenant's palace surveyed the distant blue Mediter

ranean with the pleasant certainty that his own port of Algiers

was now secure.

The French had no way of removing him. Evidently Sulei

man refused to summon him home.

At more than seventy years of age, Barbarossa may have

lacked the fiery energy of his African days, but his presence

hovers over the interplay of secret negotiations of those months:

230

THE QUEST IN ASIA

Francis negotiating with Doria, and agreeing to a new peace

with Charles, the Peace of Crepy.

When it was all over, Barbarossa abandoned Toulon to

Francis and secured for himself the release of one of his cap

tured lieutenants, Dragut, from Doria, the release of 400 Mos

lem captives, pay and rations for all his crews up to the hour of

their re-entry of the Golden Horn, and a personal gift from

Francis to himself of robes and jewels.

Voyaging home, he carried terror to the remaining imperial

coasts. Passing Genoa with all banners displayed, he swept over

Elba and in to the Tuscany coast, capturing the Isle of Giglio,

plundering Porto Ercole. Skirting papal territory, he brought his

fleet into the Bay of Naples, stripping the islands, landing at

Pozzuoli, marching to the gates of Naples. Before seeking

Messina he swept up the population of the Lipari Islands.

When he rounded Serai Point, Barbarossa brought with him

many more ships, chests of gold and men than he had taken

away.

It is said that Suleiman came down from the kiosk of the

Serai garden to greet him at the landing stage. Of what was said

between them, as Barbarossa rekted his experience as guest of

the French King, there is no record.

Barbarossa did not put to sea again. Two years later he died,

Suleiman built for Vm the kind of tomb he had wanted, plain

and small, of enduring gray granite, so close to the water of the

Bosphorus that passing ships had it in full view. For many

generations thereafter no fleet cleared Serai Point without turn

ing first to fire a salute at Barbarossa's tomb.

It had carved upon it a legend of three Arabic words: Ma at

rais al bahr. Dead is the Captain of the Sea.

231

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Dragut

Barbarossa bequeathed to his master a brood of sea rovers.

The task he had begun, of bedeviling the Mediterranean and of

making the Turkish flag supreme, they carried out to the full.

Crafty Sinan, although getting on in years, served as Kaputan

Pasha, spending most of his time ashore at the Arsenal. Salih

Reis, the fat Arab from the Nile, disappeared from the brother

hood, but Piali, the studious Croat from the School, rose to.

command. He was liked and trusted by Suleiman.

Torgut, already known only too well by the Spaniards as

Dragut, had Barbarossa's knack of surviving defeat, and of

accomplishing the seemingly impossible. Oddly, he was the only

Turk by birth among the lieutenants, being the son of an Ana

tolian peasant. Dragut had always craved to be on the sea, and

with the money he made as a wrestler he bought a small galliot,

attracting Barbarossa's attention by his skill as a pilot.

Generous and reckless, Dragut fared best when in command

of a few vessels, alone. Headstrong, he could not accustom him

self to carrying out orders, and Barbarossa had never entrusted

many sails to him. And Dragut had been caught by Giovanetto

Doria the nephew of the celebrated admiral on a beach at

Sardinia while he was landing spoils to divide them among his

officers.

While chained to the oar of an Italian galley, Dragut had

been seen and recognized by De La Valette, a Knight of Malta

who in turn had served as oarsman captive of the Moslems.

"Senor Dragut'' the Knight exclaimed, "usanza de guerra

[Sir Dragut, ? tis the way of war]!"

Dragut also remembered De La Valette as an oarsman. "Y

mudanza de fortuna [well, a turn of luck]," he corrected, cheer

fully.

Barbarossa did not rest content until he had ransomed his

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audacious lieutenant from Doria, paying the high price of three

thousand gold pieces a bargain that Doria had every reason to

regret thereafter.

For, like the specter of the dead Captain of the Sea, Dragut

haunted the mid-Mediterranean. Having studied European

routine while a captive, he took toll of European commerce

once taking in a Malta-bound treasure ship with seventy

thousand ducats, and again overrunning Sicily under the eyes

of its Viceroy. Even Dragut' s mishaps had a way of turning out

to his advantage.

He was cruising off Genoa when his favorite castle in Africa,

Mahdiya, was captured by Garcia de Toledo, son of the dis

comfited Viceroy of Sicily. This annoyed Suleiman, who had

made his final peace with the Europeans by then, and he pro

tested the attack on a Moslem port by a force of the Empire.

In answer, Charles called it no act of war but an attack on

brigands. Suleiman retorted that in his eyes the sea captains

were no more brigands than those of the Empire. And he

recompensed Dragut with the gift of twenty galleys and their

crews.

Straightway Dragut managed to have his enlarged fleet

trapped by no less a sea lord than Andrea Doria. Again, his mis

hap came from carelessness. Evicted from Mahdiya, he had

settled on the marshy fertile isle of Yerba the drowsy isle of

legendary lotus-eaters. There he occupied a castle raised by a

Doria of an earlier time, while he quartered his fleet in its shal

low lagoon. He was greasing the galley keels when the living

Doria appeared with a small armada off the narrow entrance of

the lagoon.

Certain that he had Dragut with all his fleet, the Genoese sent

a courier vessel back to Naples with the message: "Dragut is

trapped in Yerba, without escape."

As he had hesitated off Prevesa, Doria took his time about

forcing the entrance to the lagoon. Hastily the Turks threw up a

breastwork on either side the narrow strip of water, and

233

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

mounted cannon to blaze away at the imperial fleet without

result except to make Doria hesitate the more.

At last, when he observed that the cannon were missing from

the entry, Doria pushed into the lagoon, to find Dragut van

ished with his fleet. The elusive Turk assuredly had not come

out the entrance, yet he was no longer in the lagoon.

It took the Christians quite a while to solve the riddle. While

they had delayed, the Turks had dug a canal through the low

shore on the far side, hauling their vessels through and over

the swamps to the sea.

There Dragut had the sheer luck to capture the galley sent

from Sicily with tidings of reinforcements on the way to aid

Doria to gather in the Turks.

"Torgut," Turkish chroniclers related, "is the drawn sword

of Islam/'

These sea captains of Suleiman, for all their eccentricity, were

carrying out the plan of Barbarossa, maintaining an offshore

blockade of the northern, European coasts, while driving the

Spanish garrisons out of their fortified points on the African

coast. Bujeya followed Mahdiya into Turkish rule. Distin

guished commanders like the French Due de Bourbon and the

English Henry of Beaufort set sail blithely for Africa, to come

back frustrated.

Something important was taking place. The Spanish attempt

to make North Africa a New Spain was failing as decisively as

their conquest of the New World beyond the Atlantic was suc

ceeding. The Mediterranean, unlike the Caribbean, never be

came a Spanish Main.

Suleiman saw to that. As he aged and turned more nd more

to die reading of the Koran at night before sleep, the hope grew

in him that he could see the last of the Christian garrisons

driven out of Moslem Africa.

At the same time in Spain itself, in the portrait-lined halls of

Toledo, the son of Charles held more stubbornly to a different

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

hope. Don Philip who was to be Philip II of Spain had been

tutored in the grandeur of empire. No warrior himself, Philip

resembled Suleiman in being withdrawn from the people who

served him, and in looking ever to the consequences of bis

actions.

When Don Philip put to sea, to his first marriage, it was on

the deck of Andrea Doria's capitana galley, carpeted and gay

with banners and music, surrounded by the caravels of Spain.

(The voyage hugged the coast to Genoa, well away from the

orbit of the Turkish fleets. ) The young Philip, then, sensed the

reality of sea power, and the pageantry of empire. Yet when

the electors of the Empire failed to name hi to succeed his

father choosing instead the Austrian Hapsburg, Ferdinand-

Philip awakened from his dream of world authority to find him

self master of Spain alone. Driven inward, as it were, he still

looked to Spain to become a dominant state. He still thought

of himself as the successor to his father.

Inflexible in his devotion to the Catholic Church, Philip

determined to purge his kingdom of the minority of infidel

Moors. More than that, he would restore the Spanish do-minion

upon the African coast.

In attempting to do so, the stubborn and methodical Philip

found himself opposed by the elusive and invincible Dragut.

It was a case of Barbarossa over again.

Draguf s luck seemed to be pure happenchance. Once, when

he and Sinan landed on Malta itself, only to decide against be

sieging that stronghold of the Knights, they turned aside to

Tripoli instead. If they could not bring back to Suleiman the

trophies of Malta, they would announce the capture of Tripoli

from those same Knights. As it happened, they did so. Sinan

showed less courtesy to these sworn enemies of Islam than the

Sultan had shown at Rhodes they were chained and exhibited

at the Serai as captives.

Years later when Philip launched his first expedition against

Africa it went to Tripoli. As usual it had great strength, under

235

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the varied flags of Europe, with distinguished commanders

the Duke of Medina-Celi and Giovanni Doria, grandnephew

of Andrea and being thus made up mostly of soldiery, it fared

badly at sea. Unseen devils of storms and plague beset it. When

at last it sighted the sands of Tripoli the commanders decided

it had been weakened too greatly to risk a siege of that strong

citadel.

They resolved instead to take Dragut's cherished isle of Yerba

only a few days' sail along the coast This they did easily

enough, in Dragut's absence. The peasantry of the drowsy

place did not try to stand against the armored Spaniards.

Thereupon the ancient spell of the lotus-eaters seemed to

fall upon Philip's crusaders. They lingered, feasting on pome

granates and melons. Between whiles they built a new castle to

enable them to hold this strategic spot. They lingered on to

doit.

They delayed too long. In the winter storms the tranquil

lagoon made a pleasant haven. Then Dragut's sails were sighted

coming home. In a day the aspect of the lagoon changed. Its

narrow, shallow entry transformed it into a trap. Medina-Celi

and young Doria tried to embark their forces. Panic threw the

lagoon into a turmoil of colliding galleys and galleons running

aground.

Into that confusion Dragut and Piali Pasha brought their

fleets. They had had long experience with the shallows of

Yerba and their crews had been at sea during the months the

Spaniards had idled ashore.

Philip's two commanders escaped, but the rest of the armada

remained, to surrender to the Turks. Fifty-six vessels and more

than fourteen thousand men fell into Dragut's hands, with the

excellent new castle to guard the entrance thereafter.

They called it Dragut's luck. At Genoa, when the news of

the disaster was brought him, the aged Andrea Doria asked to

be carried to church. He died after this last Mass.

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

At Constantinople, Ogier Busbecq was to witness the final

debarkation of Philip's expedition.

The retreat of the Europeans toward the Gibraltar end of the

Mediterranean left one stronghold exposed to face the Turks.

The islet of Malta had been fortified by the Knights. The Re

ligion had no intention of retreating again before Suleiman.

And there Dragut and De La Valette were to meet in final con

flict.

With the Turks holding the Mediterranean, the sea captains

of Spain and Portugal had to find their way to the Orient around

the Cape of Good Hope. In Africa their traders were detoured

southward, to search for gold, elephant ivory and Ethiopian

slaves.

Of these voyages through the outer oceans Suleiman was in

formed by prisoners who had coasted the shores of India. Piri

Reis had drawn maps of the outer world to show how the Portu

guese by circling Africa were draining the trade of the far east.

As overlord of Egypt Suleiman had an interest in that trade,

and he wanted to protect the Moslem shores of India.

His idea of course was fantastic that he could challenge the

galleons of Portugal on the far seas where he had no ships. But

as usual he saw it carried out. His seamen performed one of

their feats of moving vessels over dry land in this case timber

and cannon only, hauled and floated across the Suez isthmus,

to be turned into seventy galleys upon the Red Sea, and given

to the care of an aged but versatile eunuch, Suleiman Pasha.

This unusual commander managed to sail his improvised fleet

down the Red Sea, to take Aden for the Sultan, 2nd Massawa

under the Abyssinian hills. Somehow he coasted along the

Yemen and found his way across the waste of the hot ocean to

the port of Diu, off a river mouth of India. There he battered

at the proud Portuguese by land, not by sea. Not faring too well

in his venture, the pasha navigated back, taking care to make

the pilgrimage to the Kaaba at Mecca, to bring to Suleiman the

237

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

account of his pilgrimage instead of a victory off India. Where

upon the Sultan ordered transports to be built on the Red Sea,

to carry pilgrims across to Jiddah.

Soon after that the stout and cheery Ayas Pasha died pf the

pkgue. When his children were counted, they were found to

number one hundred and twenty. The vizirate Suleiman gave

to the aged navigator of the Indian Ocean.

A Peace Is Won

At that time Suleiman asked no more of his vizirs than that

they should be faithful servants. Still trying to carry the burden

of administration alone, he seemed to turn to elder Turks of

simple mind, and to old friends of the School. The three who

became his closest companions in work were utterly unlike

Ibrahim. Yet each was a genius in his way.

Sinan Agha known everywhere as "the Architect" had

come up from the boy levy, to serve in the campaigns from Bel

grade to Vienna, where he accomplished a miracle in engineer

ing. He had an amazing knack of building whatever was

needed. Moreover, he had the Turkish knack of Suleiman's

time of doing the more difficult things swiftly; the seemingly

impossible took the Architect a little longer. After finishing new

bath chambers in gray marble next the Sultan's sleeping room

in the Serai, Sinan threw an aqueduct across the desert to

waterless Mecca.

Rustem, an Albanian who had risen to the top in the Organi

zation, had a gift for management. It was said of "him that he

never smiled and never spoke unless giving an order. Evidently

Suleiman hoped for much from him, bestowing his favorite

daughter Mihrmah on hf-m as a bride.

The third, Ibn Sa'ud, was xemarkable. By descent a Kurd, by

birth a Moslem, by education a doctor of the Law, he could

write a poem vibrant with grief after the death of a child. In

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

Ibn Sa'ud Suleiman had found a legalist who could place per

sonality above the Law. He named Ibn Sa'ud Mufti.

Upon two of this triumvirate he would rely greatly in the

twenty years of life remaining to him; one would carry out his

ideas after Suleiman's death. Yet to none of them at this point

did he grant a portion of the overriding authority that had been

Ibrahim's undoing. It was as if he tried to say to them: The re

sponsibility we will share; the rewards must go to no one. But

the Osmanli remained inarticulate as always. He could only

show what he meant by an example, or judge a case where a

man had erred. Much as he loved the winsome Mihnnah, he

was to earn her hatred and to hear of her death in bleak silence.

Small wonder, then, that at fifty years of age Suleiman was

still an enigma to European -minds. His likeness they knew be

cause even Diirer had sketched it; his fame had spread through

all their courts. Titian painted him as one of the enemies of

Christ in the great canvas of the Ecce Homo. Paul Veronese

was to place his likeness beside Francis and Charles V in the

Marriage at Cana. The aged historian Paolo Giovio, who had

written so often of "the Turkish terror," sent a copy of his Com-

mentary on Turkish Affairs to Suleiman, and received back-

so rumor relates a miniature portrait of the Sultan.

An Italian, Navagero, described him as "tall and thin with an

expression of gentleness and majesty. He now drinks no wine

as they say he did in Ibrahim's time. Almost daily he leaves the

city in his barge to walk in his gardens or hunt on the Asia

shore. I am told he is very just, and when he understands the

facts of a case, he never wrongs any man. He asserts that he

will never break his word.'*

In those years, 1544 47, Suleiman won from the Europeans

what he had sought with unquenchable determination for a

dozen years a signed peace with the concert of Europe. Per

haps Barbarossa's final ravaging of the Mediterranean in 1543

paved the way to this; perhaps Suleiman had made it clear even

239

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

to the Hapsburgs that he would stay in the Hungarian plain

and would not go beyond it. Whatever the reason, the persever

ance of this one man obtained his pax Turcica. "One man and

one purpose."

When new envoys came from the Austrians bringing a rare

gift, a great gilded clock with miniature sun, moon and planets

that moved in time with the passing of the hours, Suleiman was

pleased. He did not need the explanatory booklet they offered

him because he had spent many hours in his House of Time

where observers worked with astrolobes to check the hours by

the rising of the stars. But when, with their compliments, they

offered only the old plea of Ferdinand, for Buda in return for

100,000 ducats, Suleiman stormed at them through the mouth

of his Vizir. "Do they think the Padishah has lost his mind? Do

they think that he will yield up for money what he has con

quered and won back twice with his sword?"

One of the envoys, Sigismund, Baron von Herberstein, who

had gained experience at the court of Moscow, left the Turk

ish border in a thoughtful mood. "I have seen the strength," he

said, "of a great and powerful monarch."

The treaty of 1547 had two remarkable points in it. Although

drawn with the Hapsburgs, it included the French King, the

Pope, and the Signory of Venice. The Osmanli was making his

point clear here. He rested on his arms, apart from the western

ers, to preserve peace with all of them.

Yet he made a second point, just as clearly. His sea captains

were not to be bound by the treaty. (He intended to journey

into Asia again and Barbarossa had taught him how his fleets

in the Mediterranean could mystify the courts from Toledo

to Vienna. And Dragut saw to it that they did so. )

Suleiman insisted on one thing more. Ferdinand, King of the

Romans, was to pay 30,000 ducats every year for the mountains

in northern Hungary that remained to him. The Austrians called

this an honorary pension, but Suleiman understood it to be, as

it was, a payment of tribute to him from the House of Hapsburg.

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The money he hardly needed. As in the case of the small

yearly payment from the Venetians, it was simply a point of

pride.

Then in the full tide of triumph, terror struck at him.

The First Conspiracy of the Harem

It began in his own household so gradually that at first he

did not notice it. The fire, of course, set it going.

Roxelana, now his acknowledged wife, had hoped for Ibra

him's downfall. The brilliant Greek had been the third person

in the way of her supremacy within the household. Aware of

Ibrahim's megalomania, the Favorite Laughing One may have

used her influence against him, but it was little needed.

Suleiman's distrust of advisers after Ibrahim's death had

played into her hands. She had no other woman to fear. Yet the

Sultan's absorption in duties kept him away from her except

for occasional hours she being penned in the old palace while

he worked and often slept in the Serai on the point. When

Roxelana begged to be allowed to quarter herself near him

within the Serai he refused. By order of the Conqueror, no

woman had been allowed to sleep the night where the Divan

carried on the business of the dominion.

The great fire, however, moved Roxelana to the Serai tem

porarily. It swept the water front, rising to the ramshackle

buildings of the old palace, destroying the women's wardrobes

and treasures. Necessarily, the wife and favorite was hurried to

shelter, and Suleiman gave her the rooms behind his own within

the third court.

Now from the Conqueror's day the Serai had been a work

place. Suleiman himself ate, slept and received his intimate

visitors in cramped quarters between the room of his Chief

Squire, who happened to be Rustem, and the hospital of the

School

241

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Even the Sultan was not prepared for the following that

Roxelana brought with her for shelter, nearly a hundred serv

ants, robe makers, bkck eunuchs and messengers. Since Roxe

lana did not seem to be able to manage without this entourage,

Suleiman quartered it also in the chambers around the inner

courtyard of the Serai.

There it stayed, as his harem. Somehow the work of rebuild

ing the uncomfortable old palace lagged. Roxelana wondered

why it should be rebuilt at all. Besides herself, who was to

occupy it now that Gulbehar had died? Only a few old women

pensioners who were happier in any case elsewhere with their

relatives.

So Roxelana remained in the Serai of the administration, as

the single wife of the Osmanli Sultan. Thereby she broke a

kanun of the Conqueror. Since the old law of the harem of

course prevailed as before, all her section of the Serai became

closed to outsiders. Within it, as the Sultan Valideh had ruled

the old building, Roxelana ruled, although she was not and

apparently could not be a Sultan Valideh.

A private door was cut between her labyrinth of chambers

and die Sultan's small two-room apartment. There was nothing

luxurious about either suite. But slaves began to speak of her

reception room with the dome looking out into the wooded gar

den from latticed openings as the Throne Room Within. There

Suleiman came to spend much of his leisure.

He could not or would not order his wife to be taken bodily

from the Serai. Where would she go? Installed at his side in

this manner, the Russian woman could venture veiled out into

the corridor called the Golden Road that led to the Divan.

Who was to turn back the wife and favorite of the Padishah?

Beyond the Golden Road another corridor led to the stair of

the small tower which in turn gave access to the hidden window

where Suleiman listened at times to the never-ending discus

sion of the Divan below. Roxelana could not venture, as far as

the window, but reports were brought her by those who did,

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

Restless anxiety drove her to weigh every word of her spies.

It came from the Osmanli kw of fratricide. Although Gulbehar

had died, Mustafa, the son of the Circassian woman, would be

the next Sultan. What if Mustafa chose to invoke the ancient

law, and to put to death his stepbrothers who were her own

sons, Selim, Bayazid and Jahangir?

Impetuously the Russian woman urged this danger upon

Suleiman, only to be met by his calm assurance. Mustafa was

the heir, he repeated over and over. The family had stepped

beyond barbarity. Mustafa, amiable and untroubled, would

never demand the lives of his younger brothers. She could be

certain of that.

Roxelana had the clear-eyed realism of a peasant girl who

had been captive in this strange court. Having courage as well,

she never argued for herself, although she would become no

more than a widowed woman, solitary at the Sultan's death. Yet

her tense emotion broke out in protest. "Lord of my life, the

truth of your words heals my heart. Mustafa's good feeling will

not change. I fear others than him. What will be the thought

of the one who is Vizir? Would a dried-up monkey like the

eunuch Vizir have love for the afflicted Jahangir? Could even

the astrologers of the House of Time foretell what plans an

Agha of Janizaris might hatch, or the brotherhood of the jani-

zaris be moved to do to our sons? Already they follow Mustafa

about like faithful dogs. Can you read the minds of servants?"

Suleiman, in justice, could not deny the danger she feared.

He could not provide for what would happen one minute after

he ceased to live.

It was not devotion to Roxelana alone that troubled him. His

fondness for the crippled Jahangir and the slender, winsome

Mihrmah pressed upon him. Upon this Roxelana played. If

Rustem, the husband of Mihrmah, could only be given author

ity! Inflexible and just, Rustem could protect the others of the

family. If he were Vizir.

Suleiman could appreciate that. Not that he anticipated his

243

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

own death Roxelana had shown great daring to mention it

but he felt that his children should be safeguarded before it.

What he did at the time was to send Mustafa from the admin

istration of fertile Magnisiya the training ground of a Sultan-

to-be to a government far from the city, in the east. Rustem

he appointed Beylerbey of Diyarbekr, even further away.

Rustem resembled his father-in-law the Sultan in his silence

and tireless energy at a task; he had more than Ibrahim's skill

with finances. No one questioned the Albanian's integrity, but

no one knew how avaricious he would prove to be, or how

Roxelana could twist his will to her advantage.

Her opportunity came with the growing incapacity of the

aged eunuch Vizir, who could do little more than sit as a figure

head in the Divan. Suleiman retired him and named Rustem

in his place. Thereby he violated another kanun of the Con

querorthat appointment should be by ability alone, and no

Sultan might name a relative to an office near him.

Very deftly Roxelana had intrigued to gain her purpose. Only

one thing stood now between her sons and the throne, the life

of Mustafa. If Mustafa could be removed, she could abide in

the Serai as the Sultan Valideh-to-be, with a sure hold upon

the vizirate through Rustem.

Yet the able and popular prince could be .executed only by

command of Suleiman, who had never dreamed of the death

of his son. Roxelana had a slight circumstance to aid her. OS at

the far frontier Mustafa was becoming a favorite with the

troops. Her spies brought her certain evidence of that, without,

however, any proof against Mustafa's loyalty to his father. They

merely had the talk of the camps. "The young Sultan is born

to the saddle . . . even now he can lead the standards to the

Lands of War more swiftly than the Padishah * . . when he

makes gifts, he gives with both hands . . . may God lengthen

his years and preserve him to become our Padishah."

A little of this, carefully selected, Roxelana contrived to bring

before the eyes of Suleiman. She knew his mind, and remem-

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

bered how long he had brooded on the rising of the Young

Troops against his aging grandfather. If he had not confided

that to the woman he loved, she might not have succeeded.

It took years to accomplish.

Unceasingly Roxelana studied the mind of her husband. She

had the choir of boys from the Enclosed School across the way

brought to her Throne Room Within, blindfolded, that she

might sit behind her lattice screen and watch Suleiman's face

as he listened, relaxed by the songs. She sensed something with

drawn in him, beyond her touch. In that depth lurked cruelty,

and suspicion of what he did not understand, and a yearning

for more than the Khasseki Khurrem, with all her intuition,

could realize.

It would be dangerous to plot against him; even the oblivious

Ibrahim had not attempted that. To rouse his suspicion, by

apparent chance that was the utmost she could do ... when

he rode past the barracks of the janizaris at the outer court,

he still glanced at their great soup kettles, from habit. If it

could become a habit with him, to watch for what she had made

him suspect!

Roxelana praised the virile strength of the son of Gulb^har.

Soon, she agreed, with the Army of Asia, Mustafa could end the

suspense in the east caused by the fanatical Persians. Even the

janizaris would follow him, although they would suffer no one

else to command them, except of course the Ruler of the Two

Worlds. Suleiman need not go again to the east

Yet he did go after making peace with the Europeans. Per

haps he hoped to end the Persian conflict himself, because a

brother of the Shah had fled to sanctuary at his court of Con

stantinople. Suleiman endured the disapproval of his own

officers in taking this heretical Shilte eastward with him. If he

could divide the rule in Persia between the Shah, Tahmasp, and

his rebel brother, his own frontier would be left untroubled.

Suleiman was gone with the great army for the winter of

245

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

1548-49. Roxelana heard there had been no battle, for the

Shf ites retired before his army. His diary, which she contrived

to read, was more curt than ever. Although he must have

climbed through mountain chains and sent his horsemen fly

ing down to the gates of Isfahan, he had written only the names

of places in his diary. Although, as before, he had sent a sea

commander, Piri Reis, out to the far east, to seize Muscat and

hold the Persian Gulf against the infidel Portuguese, he took

no pride in that. He said only that Piri Reis had escaped with

two galleys after his fleet had been shipwrecked on the Bahrein

Islands. In Egypt, Piri Reis had been tried for losing his vessels,

and condemned to die.

By that Suleiman had revealed the anger he restrained so

carefully. Roxelana took heed of it, noticing how Rustem con

fined himself to the affairs of the Treasury, avoiding any pre

tense of the political power that Ibrahim had abused. Rustem,

too, feared the Sultan.

As before, after returning from Asia, Suleiman devoted him

self more to religion. Often he read commentaries on the Koran

from the pen of the Mufti. Roxelana urged that he ease the

weariness of his mind by appealing to the Mufti to make vital

decisions for him.

But Suleiman did not agree. "In matters of faith, yes," he re

sponded. "There the Law decides. In matters of obedience or

loyalty, how can the will of God be known? There judgment

must be given upon the evidence."

So cold his mind was, so stubborn to hold to facts. The woman

could not realize how, standing stooped and tall, his gray eyes

heavy with lack of sleep, he was trying to shoulder the needs

of millions of human beings, and feeling with the ache of a

wound his inability to do so. "Piri Reis should not have left his

crews," he muttered.

Curiously she observed his own longing to build the Sulei-

mawye* Out from her windows, across the curve of the city,

another height overgrown with cypress rose above the cluster

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

of masts along the Golden Horn. Instead of rebuilding the old

palace, Suleiman had resolved to take this height entire and

build a place of his own on it. Not in the least resembling a

palace, the Suleimaniye would have such things as a hostel for

wayfarers, religious schools, a soup kitchen, a home for aged

and twisted minds, all centered about a mosque that would

surpass the Aya Sofia in beauty.

He had the architect to do it, now, in Sinan Agha, Rustem's

brother, who had restored Baghdad. Sinan had drawn plans for

a dome larger than any in the city, and he was certain it could

be upheld on four columns, although that seemed incredible.

And there was something incredible to Roxelana in the way

Suleiman drove the brilliant minds about him now Sinan's to

the task of imagining bridges of stone and wayside shrines,

Rustem's to the eternal problem of gleaning enough but not too

much in head tax from the people, eked out with tribute from

foreign lands, Sokollfs to the care of the ships left by Barba-

rossa. Like Suleiman, their good will could not be bought, or

their minds distracted from daily duties. . . .

The Three Mutes of the Bowstring

Mustafa's life appeared as secure as that of the Mufti him

self when a slight misfortune drew attention to the eastern

frontier in the summer of 1553. There the Persians advanced

through the mountains to take Erzerum, the stronghold that

defended the main east-west pass. Instead of going east himself

Suleiman, who was then nearing his sixtieth birthday, sent

Rustem in command of the field army.

Almost at once disturbing reports came back to the SeraL

The veterans of the army, displeased because the Sultan had

not come with them, were causing Rustem trouble. Unaccount

ably the army delayed its march near Mustafa's government

of Amasiya. Then the reports spoke of rebellion. The troops de-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

manded, if the Sultan were too old to ride with the asker, that

the prince, Mustafa, lead them. "Let it be done," they said.

"Only the First Vizir objects to yielding his place to the Sultan-

to-be. This Rustem is not of the blood of the Osmanli. By slay

ing him and sending the old Sultan to rest in retirement, we may

have at our head the man who should lead us to war."

Such talk had been heard before. Now it came from the main

Turkish army in the field. Rustem's private report stirred Sulei

man to suspicion and immediate action. Mustafa, the Vizir

maintained, had listened willingly to the rebels. Rustem could

no longer control the army. Suleiman must journey east swiftly,

or lose his throne.

Not doubting Rustem, Suleiman prepared to march at once,

then hesitated. What would happen upon his arrival? He could

compel the obedience of most of the army, but there might be

conflict, and certainly execution of the dissidents. In such a

case Osmanli Law required the taking of one life, if it would

save thousands.

Probably Suleiman had no fear of an outbreak of rebellion.

He had to decide the question, what wrong had his son com

mitted, by what right could Mustafa be judged? Unable to de

cide himself, he ventured to put the question to the supreme

judge of Islam, giving no names.

"A well-known merchant of this city, leaving his home, pkced

all that belonged to him there in the care of the slave he most

favored. This slave, in the master's absence, began to steal his

goods and to plan to take his life. In such a case, what sentence

does the Law impose upon the slave?"

This was given the Mufti, Ibn Sa'ud, without comment. But

the messenger who followed it from the Serai let the Mufti

understand that the question concerned the Sultan in person.

This secret admonition must have come from Roxelana's clique.

The Mufti replied bluntly, "In my judgment the punishment

of the slave should be death by torture."

The advice of Ibn Sa'ud, Rustem's warning, the ominous

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rumors that met Suleiman in his audience hall and the Divan,

all had taken shape by Roxelana's contriving.

Suleiman recafied Rustem from command, turned over the

rule of the city to his favored third son, Bayazid, and started

with his household regiments on the long ride across the ferry

to Scutari, and the foothills of the east As he did so he wrote

to Mustafa to come in person to his camp to answer the accu

sations against him.

To Roxelana, waiting for word of Suleiman's arrival at the

army, it seemed that Gulbehar's son would not be foolish

enough to obey his father's command. Yet the alternative of

flight in Mustafa's case would be a confession of guilt. She

hardly believed the report that the prince was riding to meet

the Sultan, although warned against doing so. "He said," her

spies insisted, "that if he had to die it could not be in a better

way than by his father's hand."

Yet Mustafa came into Suleiman's camp, splendidly mounted,

taking the salutes of the enthusiastic janizaris. He dared place

his own tent close to that of the Sultan.

Across the space between the tents he rode with only two

followers. At the entrance of the Sultan's he paused because

the janizaris on guard flocked around him. He went in alone to

meet his father. In the reception space three deaf mutes waited,

holding a bowstring.

The spies said that Suleiman watched the death of Mustafa

from behind a transparent curtain. Assuredly Mustafa's two

followers were killed outside the entrance with swords. His body

was placed there on a carpet, for the men of the asker to see as

they filed by.

Roxelana paid little attention to reports that followed of

the mourning and outcry of the janizaris. No one else was pun

ished. But that day the janizaris would take no food. They de

manded the life of Rustem, who was safe on his way back to

the city by then.

Worse happened in the old city of Brusa. There Mustafa's

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

widow feared for the life of his four-year-old son, when a

eunuch appeared as messenger from the court, to summon her

to the Serai. The eunuch contrived to get the boy out of her

sight and kill him. When the death was known in Brusa, towns

people ran out to hunt the murderer, who escaped.

Mustafa had been innocent of treachery. In the crisis he had

shown great courage and had been met with conspiracy, for

which the Russian woman was responsible.

It had seemed a simple thing, to remove the elder stepson

from the path of her own sons; but it was to have consequences

unsuspected by her and decisive for the future of the Osmanli

dominion. What the future might have been, along the direction

laid down by Suleiman, carried forward by leaders like Mustafa,

can only be imagined.

The first consequence was the anger in the city, not against

Suleiman who in popular opinion had merely condemned his

own son with cruelty, but against the two conspirators of the

pakce, Rustem and Roxelana. Since the woman could not be

mentioned publicly or touched, the restrained anger turned

against the Vizir, her son-in-law. A poet of the day, a certain

Yahya, wrote and passed from hand to hand a lament for his

hero, the young Osmanli. Yahya, who had been a Christian and

an Albanian, seemed to have no fear of consequences.

Rustem, aware of the feeling against him, had Yahya brought

before the Divan. "How have you dared," he asked, "write

that I live on like Satan, while Mustafa is lost to Suleiman's

throne?"

With quick wit the poet answered, "Like everyone else, I

bowed to the justice of my lord the Sultan. Like everyone, I

cannot refrain from weeping at the sad consequence/'

Angered, Rustem would have had Yahya executed, but Sulei

man refused to punish the poet. Instead he removed Rustem

from office. His messenger, the Treasurer of the realm, appeared

before the Divan to demand the Osmanli seal from Rustem in

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

the name of the Sultan. Rustem was ordered to Bis quarters,

and the seal given to the Second Vizir.

Then Jahangir died. The neurotic cripple, Suleiman's com

panion, grieved incurably after the loss of Mustafa. The court

physicians could not save him with their medicine.

All Roxelana's ingenuity could not prevent immediate rivalry

between her two surviving sons. Her devotion went to Selim,

the elder, ungainly and unliked. Selim was subject to fits of

terror, and took to wine drinking to quiet himself, gaining other

oblivion from skve girls. His mother tried to persuade Sulei

man to name Selim as Sultan-to-be, and failed. Suleiman favored

Bayazid, the younger, who had Mustafa's qualities and quick

sensitivity and foresight.

In these circumstances the dark, gray-eyed Bayazid kept on

with his training without misgiving; the florid Selim began to

assemble followers of his own, to strike at his brother secretly.

Suleiman might have been able to control Roxelana's sons,

if it had not been for the ghost of Mustafa. It was no more than

an impostor, taking the name of the dead prince to gather a

following about him. In the desert regions of Anatolia he

stirred up the tribes with the aid of dervishes who had griev

ances. Even army officers who had known the dead prince

swore that this was Mustafa in the flesh.

Very soon the false Mustafa was identified and caught. But

the unrest that had gathered around him spread to the cainps

of the two living sons. Slight as it was, the fearful Selim fos

tered it.

Alone, riding through the Great Gate, alone when the ward

robe page bowed and left him after the last prayer to lie on his

quilt on the tiled flooring, watching through the narrow win

dow as the pattern of stars moved above the cypress trees,

Suleiman remembered the face of his son. He did not speak of

it By the night lamp that he kept burning now he would look

at the page of the poem of Yahya the Albanian who had loved

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Mustafa. The hidden hate of the liar . . . made our tears to

flow . . . what had death itself brought to Mustafa? He started

like a stranger on that journey., all alone.

He rode now with the pain of gout in his legs and his breath

ing labored as he tired. Unless he, the Sultan, could go to the

place of trouble with his officers, he could not know the root

of the trouble. Nearly sixty years of age, he found it more dif

ficult

He did not go to Egypt, where he had sent Ibrahim so often,

when the feud flared there between the governor and the new

Vizir Ahmed. Suleiman had thought Ahmed to be honest, and

the governor to be honest, yet the trouble came from one of

them raising revenues for his own enrichment. Again a letter

came into Suleiman's hands written by Ahmed, bidding his

agents increase the revenues, to disgrace the governor. AH the

Fat they called the governor.

In sudden rage, because he had seen the letter, Suleiman

ordered the execution of Ahmed. Only after that did he hear

that Ahmed had been afraid not to increase the Egyptian rev

enue, as the capable Rustem had done. Roxelana had con

trived the proof against Ahmed.

In the Serai his daughter Mihnnah pleaded with him, and

Roxelana urged him to give the vizirate back to Rustem, upon

whom he could rely. After another year he did so.

Rustem, moving cautiously, relieved the Sultan of no respon

sibility except the accounting of money taken in and given out.

By now Suleiman understood that no one could share greater

responsibility with him. The Mufti might pronounce the Law

of the Koran but the judging of the Law rested with Suleiman.

The canker within his household could be cured by no one but

himself.

He could not suspect that the intrigues of Roxelana and

Mihrmah in his harem had opened up a fatal weakness in the

Organization. If secluded women could influence the Divan,

they could in time manage the affairs of the empire, because

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they remained invisible and unheard by those outside the

Throne Room Within.

Rustem was the first of many vizirs to be created by the

harem.

The Refuge on the Hill

It was Suleiman's failing that he tried to project ideas beyond

the ability of human servants to carry them out. Justice re

mained, in his thought, an unalterable law; he would keep to

his given word, even when the consequences were harmful; the

gleaming rubies and amethysts set into his sword hilt were not

precious stones in which he took pride they were tokens of the

dignity of the Osmanli. Along with the shimmering cloth of

gold that covered his body, they were part of the ritual of his

life. Rarely did he reveal human fondness for things close to

him, pet horses among the thoroughbreds of his stables, a gold

goblet wrought by the hand of a Cellini, or a remarkable clock.

"Someone found fault with him," Ogier Busbecq recalled,

"for eating off silver plate; so he has used nothing but earthen

ware since."

This duality of the Turks and their Sultan was forever puz

zling the Europeans who had begun to come to the Gate. They

decided that the Turks were brutal mystics. One said, "They are

in truth grand seigneurs in great affairs, marauders in little."

Busbecq discovered that the inexplicable Turks picked up scraps

of old paper from the ground to tuck into walls or shrubs be

cause any fragment might have the name of God written on it;

they picked up fallen rose petals because, superstitiously, they

believed that such petals were the tears of Muhammad the

Prophet.

Usually the casual Europeans could adapt their ideas to

their personal needs and desires. Suleiman could not. He had

never claimed, for instance, that he was Protector of the Faith-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

ful ? like the earlier kalifs; instead he had sought to make Con

stantinople an international refuge, where the inner seas and

the great continents met. He had failed because he could not

give natural life to the great city. To Rome across the waters

multitudes flocked because they sought its shrines, its work

shops of artisans, its markets or streets of prostitutes.

Constantinople remained, as it had been, a city of refugees,

sprinkled with the markets and the abodes of the inner peo

ples, with Greek churches, and Jewish synagogues, and the

multitudinous baths and tombs of the Turks. It remained like

a huge caravan serai, lifeless except for the throngs that came

and went.

Suleiman did not easily give up an idea. Realizing that he had

failed to create a metropolis of peoples, he had ordered Sinan

the Architect to erect a Sultan's sanctuary back of the wreck

age of the old palace. If he could not make Constantinople

into another eastern Rome, he would give to his people an inner

city, the realization of his dream. It would be complete in itself,

somewhat like the city of the Vatican as Europeans had begun

to call the residence of the Christian Pope.

In six years he built the Suleimaniye, he and the tireless

Sinan. Suleiman gave to his architect the fine marbles and por

phyry from abandoned churches and the still standing pakce

of Belisarius. It was an amazing accomplishment to erect and

furnish a religious center in that time. Over in Rome, the aged

Michelangelo was laboring to raise the dome of St. Peter's,

from the plans of Bramante, with the aid of Nanni and the

assistance of two popes. Under Suleiman's insistence, the Turk

ish workmen went at their task with the energy that had put

together a fleet for the impatient Barbarossa in a year and a half.

Neither the Mufti nor Suleiman, however, occupied the

Suleimaniye, the only place to which the Sultan gave his name.

(In Paris Francis had begun to rebuild the Louvre as a new

royal residence, and Catherine de 7 Medici would soon order a

Palais des Tuileries for herself.) The structures on the hill

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were for the use of all people in the city, without cost A reser

voir supplied two necessities of Moslem life, clean drinking

fountains and water for the baths. A primary school taught

young children the essentials of reading the Koran and simple

arithmetic; four small academies gave classes in rudimentary

sciences, along with such unusual matters as metaphysics,

music and astronomy. Savants in the House of Time kept track

of stellar time. Mullahs in a Hall of Reading took turns in main

taining a continuous recitation of the verses of the Koran.

For the sick, there was a crude hospital with a medical school

attached. (Islamic teaching, however, refused to recognize pre

vention in cases of epidemics, so that plague in the city always

took a heavy toll of Hves.) For the non-Moslem sick, there was

also a smaller hospital where patients could be treated in ac

cordance with their various religions. Christians, native or for

eign, could also stay for three days at a hostel of their own,

provided with soup, barley and meat at no cost to them.

For students there was the inevitable library in the vast gal

leries of the mosque itself. The books were manuscripts, writ

ten, illustrated and decorated by the hands of calligraphers,

because the Turks did not like and could not master the new

European art of printing with metal type. Although most of

these volumes dealt with religious Law and tradition, the curi

ous student could find geographies and fables of animals among

them, along with the great Persian poets like Jami and Rumi

The upper galleries of the mosque served another need; per

sonal valuables could be stored there under seal. Whether

jewels, gold coin, silverwork or simple keepsakes, a man could

bring his trove to this treasury of the Suleimaniye and deposit

it with caretakers, out of the reach of thieves and tax collectors.

From this height, the great mosque of Suleiman rose. Out

wardly it was no more than another Turkish copy of the ma

jestic Aya Sofia, except that its courtyards had the spaciousness

of parks. Only in the interior did Sinan create something unique.

A man enters this place of prayer of Suleiman and stops,

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

instantly aware of space and silence, of shadow and light. He

feels the impact of challenge from the coloring of walls and

four immense square columns inlaid with vari-hued marble.

There is nothing more. Not a statue or projection breaks the

surf aces around him. Light glows through stained glass Ibra

him the Drunken made those paintings on glass and overhead

there is the immense vault of the dome.

In measurement, the dome is five meters wider than the Aya

Sofia's, and about as much less than the diameter of St. Peter's.

But probably no other structure in the world resembles less

the interior of a building. Within it, there is the feeling of the

evening sky.

The driving energy of the aging Sultan besprinkled the land

with bits of Suleimaniyes. Only a Sinan, aided by skilled con

structors, could have designed all that Suleiman demanded of

him.

Private buildings made up the smallest third of the great

total 27 residences, 18 tombs, 5 treasure storage places. Public

welfare invoked a larger third 18 caravan serais, for travelers

on the roads, 31 public baths, 7 bridges and as many viaducts,

17 soup kitchens, and 3 hospitals.

Religion benefited by the largest third of the Sultan's gifts

to his people 75 great mosques, 49 small mosques with as many

religious schools attached, to become centers of outlying vil

lages, and 7 institutes for advanced Koran study.

Most of these buildings were stone, or stone and brick, within

walled gardens. In distant Jerusalem, Suleiman's design stands

today, in the granite wall enclosing the old city with the bastion

gate called the Tower of David. Especially on the east side, he

had the half-rained sanctuaries rebuilt, around the Dome of

the Rock and the El Aksa mosque. This enclosure of the sites

sacred to Islam was named the Haram, the Sanctuary. From it

Suleiman had the abode of the Franciscans removed, as being

out of place within the Haram. But in return he made over to

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that brotherhood of the Religion a site close to the Sepulchre

of the Christians.

It was not remarkable that Suleiman should use his growing

wealth for such building. To his thinking that wealth was not

his personal property. Like the vast surface of the earth he

ruled, it belonged to God. He could benefit only from the use

he made of it.

The one residence he erected for himself was the summer

place across the Bosphorus, where he had himself rowed more

and more often to rest.

By its very extent, however, his grant of buildings and ground

aided the Moslem She'ri. Such property, ceded to the Law,

became Wakf, a permanent endowment to religion. Slowly

Suleiman himself was helping to swing the balance between

the Law and the Organization. Paradoxically, he was weaken

ing the Organization of which he was head, to add to the wealth

and influence of the religious Law. He was turning from inno

vation, from the thought of Christian Europe, to the unchang

ing refuge of religion. Only God's mercy could alleviate the

guilt of the murder of Mustafa.

The Danger of Peace and Wealth

And it seemed as if God's anger had fallen upon Suleiman's

family. Roxelana was sickening; his two surviving sons were

drawing close to open war. Roxelana still besought him to sup

port the weak Selim against the brilliantly able Bayazid. To

Suleiman it was clear that Bayazid must succeed him. There

was no one else able to lead the Turkish people.

Then Roxelana died in her chamber next the Throne Room

Within. Being a woman, her death occurred almost without no

tice outside the Serai.

Suleiman of course gave no evidence of his grief. He had

loved this one woman for half his lifetime; he had granted too

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

much to her influence and at least twice liad been tricked by

her. Yet he had never willingly allowed her to affect the rule

of the empire. After Ibrahim no one had been able to do that-

So her death made no perceptible difference in outward

events. Years before the Russian had been hated by orthodox

Turks, because of the favor shown her. Now there was no feel

ing against her. Throngs going to pray in Suleiman's new

mosque did not think it strange or untoward that Roxelana's

body should be in a tomb close behind the mosque, or that the

Sultan should order another small mosque to be built in the

name of Khasseki Khurrem near the women's market. To this

mosque he added the endowment of a school and a hospital for

the mad where turbaned priests might minister to helpless folk

who babbled.

No more than that remained of Roxelana, who had stirred

him by her woman's will, never yielding what once she had

gained. He never spoke of her. Perhaps he wondered what

would have become of the domain if he had sickened and died

instead, leaving Roxelana to urge on Selim as Sultan, she the

Sultan Valideh. That, he must have known, would have meant

misfortune for the years to come.

In fact new troubles seemed to be afflicting his people.

His instinct could sense danger to the nation. Even Rustem,

absorbed in the accumulation of a private fortune, assumed that

as the Osmanli power and wealth increased so would the

Osmanli rule continue, unchallenged. No visible force, in

Rustem's eyes, could now defeat the Turkish army or fleet; no

drought could seriously curtail the abundant crops and herds

of their agriculture. What, then, had they to fear?

Brooding in his habitual silence, the old Sultan found it hard

to explain what he himself feared, "A house of wood will burn

down/* he said. "A house of mud bricks will weaken in a storm,

or it will fall in an earthquake. Stone endures/*

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"Well," Rustem commented, "you have built enough out of

hewn stone, in spite of the cost."

To Rustem's calculating mind, it was sufficient to get in more

money than they needed for a year's expenses. But when he

showed Suleiman how the revenue from grain-producing Egypt

had been doubled, the Sultan fell into one of his fits of anger.

The exaction of so much money would be a hardship for the

Egyptian peasantry. Harm to the peasantry would affect the

next year's growth of rice, lentils and grains

"Reduce the payment of Egypt to the old sum," he ordered.

Rustem almost smiled. How could revenue, once established,

be reduced? And what would happen if that were done? The

Sultan's personal income had risen, under Rustem's manage

ment, to 2,000,000 Venetian ducats, leaving a balance to the

Treasury of 7,100,000 yearly. Yet still more was needed to meet

rising expenses. Since no new wars were undertaken, outer trib

ute and the kharaj from subject peoples did not increase. Since

no customs dues to speak of were taken from foreign mer

chants, especially the French, under the new treaties, nothing

more was to be looked for there. What remained, except the

old taxes on farms and animals, on metal mines and salt mining,

and perhaps here Rustem passed lightly over details the fees

collected from new officers of the Organization? If such taxes

and fees were not increased, how could they enlarge the yearly

revenue of the Treasury?

Suleiman would not take more than the old taxes from the

people at large. Yet he allowed Rustem to exact fees from men

appointed to office. And very rapidly such fees seemed to trans

form themselves into heavy payments to the Vizir and his un

derlings, down to the gatekeepers.

That speedily was to become simple bribery. It followed

naturally that the applicant who would pay the most usually got

the office. That, in turn, tended to make the new officeholder

reimburse himself from those beneath him.

It was impossible to defeat the human craving of servants

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

of the Organization to keep something for themselves of all

that passed through their hands. Beylerbeys far distant from

the scrutiny of those behind the Gate managed to bestow

feudal grants on their own henchmen. Suleiman tried to check

this by requiring them to obtain permission for each grant from

the Vizir's office. Yet the office in Constantinople found it very

difficult to ascertain just who was receiving what in the vast

provincial areas. Also, well-placed bribes helped get the neces

sary "tickets" from the office. Once the simple human honesty

of the elder Turks broke down, it did little good to pass laws

to remedy matters.

Suleiman started to register all lands and their holders. The

work went on for years without being completed.

The old Osmanli system had worked well. The Turkish peo

ple farmed the land or produced goods, and paid a small tax.

The members of the Organization that managed things and

manned the permanent army paid no tax; instead, they were

nourished and clothed out of the tax money. So it had been,

more or less, in the time of the Conqueror when the domain

had been small, and Turkish peasantry and School-educated

managers alike engaged in constant wars and construction.

Now in the quiet of peace, with food abundant, the workers of

the Organization found themselves left with a pittance. The

native farmers increased their herds and possessions and fam

ilies. Naturally the unpaid servants of the Organization tended

to seize what they could illegally and surreptitiously. "Gifts"

to many of those in power multiplied amazingly.

"Unless you have a gift in your hand," foreigners were be

ginning to say, "it is useless to try to gain a hearing from these

people."

Suleiman himself enjoyed a rare porcelain dish or a jewel

glowing with fresh color as a gift. The feel of a smooth-paced

Arab horse between his knees or the touch of cool silk against

his throat had become necessary to him. No longer did he think

of the sheepskins of his ancestors hanging in the Treasury.

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

When an inventory of Rustem's possessions was made at last

it revealed some strange hoards. Besides the accustomed farms,

animals, water mills, slaves and coined money, the Vizir had

gathered somehow 800 Korans, many with jewels set into their

bindings, 1100 skullcaps of cloth of gold, 600 saddles, much

ornamented with silverwork. Although Rustem, unlike Ibrahim

and Iskander Chelebi, kept no personal army, he had quite a

store of weapons 2900 trained war horses, and as many shirts

of mail; helmets plated with gold, and scores of pairs of gold-

worked stirrups. These were all valuables, easily sold. Great

diamonds and moonstones, emeralds 32' in allhad the worth

of a fortune.

Ogier Busbecq said that the avaricious Rustem sold off even

the vegetables grown in the Serai gardens.

Against such human greed and the forces of disintegration,

Suleiman set the impersonal ideal of the School, with its in

tensive education and doctrine of service. "These Turks," Bus-

becq admitted, "do not measure even their own people by any

other rule than that of personal merit."

Against Turkish jealously of the foreigners, who were above

Turkish law, he invoked the lessons and advantages to be ob

tained from the visitors. Feeling rose at times, to challenge

the rights of the inner nations the Armenians, Jews, Greeks,

Serbs. Suleiman invoked the old agreements, that these en

circled peoples were to preserve their own customs so long as

they did not interfere with the Turks. The Mufti, Ibn Sa'ud,

supported him, announcing, "If an unbeliever pays the kharaj,

by such payment he secures the privileges agreed upon in the

first place."

Even Rustem admitted the possible spiritual equality of

the Christians. "A Moslem who does not carry out the require

ments of his faith is less sure of salvation than a Christian who

does."

For a space Suleiman welded together the integrity of the

religious Law and the hope of the young graduates of the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

School. He insisted on going himself to speed the grown ap

prentices out of the Gate of Felicity, which they could not

enter again giving each graduate a horse from his own stable,

a robe of honor and money for the journey. An Italian, observ

ing him, said, "He sows sure hope of reward in all sorts of men."

The Approach of Ivan the Terrible

Rapidly as he journeyed now, Suleiman could not be in two

places at the same time. The weakness of the Osmanli system

lay in the fact that only one man, the Sultan, could cope with

a crisis,

For some time one had been preparing in the steppes north

of the Black Sea, where Suleiman's dependent, Sahib Ghirei,

ruled the Tatars of the Crimea in savage fashion. Over those

steppes the Sultan held only remote control. Both Tatars and

Russians feared his power, perhaps the more because he had

refrained from sending a Turkish army to interfere with them.

When Ivan the Terrible advanced his own army from Mos

cow against Kazan, the nearest stronghold of the Moslems and

Tatars on the upper Volga, Suleiman had been content to ad

vise Sahib Ghirei to send a strong leader, one Idiger Khan, from

the southern steppes to take command of the defense of Kazan.

It fell to the Russian siege in 1552 a landmark in Russian

history, the breaking of the yoke of the hitherto dreaded Tatars.

Suleiman had also sent a young Tatar from Constantinople

to take command of Astrakhan, at the far-off mouth of the

Volga.

Then, on the other side of the Black Sea, he was drawn to the

crisis that ended with the death of his son Mustafa, and

Rustem's dismissal

That in turn had an effect in the Crimea. There the Khan,

Sahib Ghirei, had been the opponent of Rustem, who disliked

him. Turkish spahis and janizaris, sent to strengthen the Khan in

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

his conflict with, the Russians now advancing down the great

rivers into the dry steppes, had quarreled with Sahib Ghirei,

telling him, "It is not your bread we eat but that of our master

the Sultan." In the Crimea the trouble ended with the assassina

tion of Sahib Ghirei, the last descendant of Genghis Khan to

rule the Russian steppes. He had been Suleiman's friend, but

the Sultan could not be there to restore order on the northern

shore of the Black Sea. For the two critical years of 1553-55

he was kept on the other shore, near Persia.

Very quickly Ivan's forces captured Astrakhan, the key to

the Volga and the Caspian Sea,

Inexorably, with increasing numbers, the Russians were press

ing south toward the fertile Don basin and the inland seas.

Suleiman heard with regret of the loss of the two famous Mos

lem cities. When a new Russian army appeared in the steppe

above the Crimea in 1555, he let it be known that he would

not consent to the invasion of the home of the Krim Tatars.

The Russians hesitated. Some of their commanders urged

an attack upon the last of the Tatar khanates. Others feared the

Krim riders, the barrier of the desert, and the Turks who held

all the Black Sea ports, including Kaffa in the Crimea itself.

Eventually Ivan turned north instead, toward the Baltic to

make there a new advance in the slow Russian expansion to

ward the seas.

Whereupon Suleiman sent to Ivan a letter written in gold

on purple paper, addressing him whether in irony or in warn

ing "Fortunate Tsar and wise Prince . . ."

For a moment Charles V and his allies considered the newly

manifest strength of the barbarian Muscovite. Was there not

here a power that might be played off against Suleiman? The

German and Danish artillerists who had forged cannon for Ivan

and had aided him to batter down the ramparts of Kazan said

so. But Charles ordered further aid held back from the Mus

covite, and stopped the migration to Moscow of German tech

nicians.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Suleiman, who never gave up an idea, had by no means for

gotten Kazan and Astrakhan. He would not go to war over them,

nor could he venture so far to the northeast himself. Years later

he decided on a way to regain the Moslem strongholds. By

ships.

Turkish fleets could navigate the river Don, beyond Azov.

At the point where the Don bends east and the Volga west, a

canal might be built. His engineers believed it possible to cut

through the intervening land. A fleet could then be brought

into the mighty Volga, and could so dominate Kazan to the

north and Astrakhan to the south, and possibly the Caspian

itself. ( It was the old Turkish scheme of moving ships bodily

overland. )

Yet he had no one to send to do it. Even Sirian the Architect

could not join rivers together in the steppe. Moreover, the new

Krim Khan feared to have Turkish power fetched from the sea

to the steppe, and put obstacles in Suleiman's way, while

secretly informing Ivan of the plan of the Don-Volga canal.

Cossacks were to haul their river vessels across the narrow

ileck of land, and Russians were to build the forts and attempt

the canal that Suleiman planned.

If he had had a Barbarossa in the east, it might have been

done as he wished.

Three supremely able men helped Suleiman hold the un

stable Osmanli rule in balance at home. Of these, Ibn Sa'ud

was at heart a ritualist, Rustem an incipient miser, and Sokolli

a ruthless driver. Yet in the years of their service under Sulei

man all three developed a tolerance that matched their peculiar

abilities.

t Such men were not easily led. At sea the headstrong Dragut

obeyed orders from the Gate only when he felt like it. When

this archfoe of the European courts raided Venetian shipping

lanes, he started a healthy feud with Rustem, who did not want

the Venetians injured. When the combined sea captains

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wrenched the port of Tripoli in Africa from the strong hands of

the Knights, Rustem accordingly awarded the prize to Sinan

Reis as a fief. Whereupon Dragut, enraged, hoisted his red

and white pennon and sailed away westward to seek his own

prizes. Most of the Osmanli battle fleet chose to follow him.

At the Serai, Rustem fitted out a squadron to pursue the

deserter. Suleiman stepped into the feud, sending an honorary

sword and Koran and a written safe-conduct out to the errant

Dragut.

As Rustem's captains prepared to embark on their punitive

expedition, they met Dragut coming in alone. He went straight

to Suleiman's presence and came out pardoned, with Tripoli as

a gift.

The Lost Admiral

Dragut had been willing to trust himself and his case to

Suleiman. Such trust did not spring from devotion alone, or

from religious ardor the zeal of the Moslem brotherhood for

the well-being of its chosen leader or from discipline alone.

Rather it came from what Busbecq shrewdly identified as hope.

Dragut had risen from a peasant's field work and roadside

wrestling to the command of a fleet. He owed that rise to no

one's influence, but to his own ability. By the same token he

now had a right to command. As long as he succeeded, he was

sure of rising toward the rank of Kaputan Pasha. If he failed,

then the dour Rustem, son by marriage to the Sultan, could

set him aside. But until then Dragut was a free man, and no

scion of birth or wealth could interfere with him.

So he had gone to Suleiman not to beg for mercy but to argue

his own right.

One sea commander disappeared entirely for three years,

and came back to claim his reward. Sidi Ali was a Turk, son of

a certain Hoseyn who had commanded the Arsenal. They

called him the Writer because he had put together a treatise on

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

.navigation, The Ocean, and because he enlivened dinner parties

with improvised poems. Sidi Ali had served under Barbarossa

and boasted that he knew every inlet of the Mediterranean.

Yet when he was given a fleet and a mission to engage the

Portuguese along the far coast of India, he found it was easier

to describe the outer oceans than to keep a fleet afloat on them.

( Suleiman was still trying to break up the Portuguese traffic

by sea with the rich coasts of farther Asia, where the King of

Portugal had been proclaimed by papal bull to be "lord of the

navigation, conquest and trade of Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia and

India." The Portuguese, based on the island of Goa, had beaten

off the threat of the Turkish squadrons. With their missionaries

backed by the growing power of the Inquisition and their mer

chant captains by superior cannon, they held the Malabar

coast longer than the Spaniards had been able to grip the North

African coast.)

Sidi Ali managed to navigate his fleet safely from the fa

miliar Red Sea to the strange India coast where he said the

waves made those of the Mediterranean seem like drops of

water.

Somehow he and his crews and Egyptian soldiery survived

two battles with the Portuguese "Captain of Goa." A monsoon

gale put an end to his cruise. The wind, Sidi Ali declared, rose

until the bosun's whistle could not be heard over it, and when

the sea around his vessel turned white as far as the eye could be

hold, his Indian pilot told him they were lost. In the shipwreck

that followed the Writer got his men to shore alive, and found

his ships broken up beyond repair.

"You are our admiral," the crews assured him, "and where

you stand the law of our Padishah prevails. It is now almost

two years since we have been paid; our goods are lost, and our

return is made impossible. What are you going to do about it?"

Sidi Ali promised them they would be paid in full after he got

them home again. To make the situation worse for him, he

found they were stranded on a portion of India where Portu-

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

guese envoys exerted themselves to have the shipwrecked Turks

surrendered. On his part Sidi AH assured the local Indian

princes that he and his men served Sultan Suleiman, who would

retaliate for any injury done them.

The Portuguese, defeated, swore that the Turks would never

see their Sultan again. "Not a bird/' they said, "could get back

by sea from the ports of India if we do not permit/'

"There is a way to leave by land also/' Sidi Ali retorted.

That way he set out to find, through countries where Turks

had never been seen before. Wonders surrounded them

screaming parrots, grimacing monkeys who carried their young,

and wild oxen that could strip the skin from a man with their

tongues.

They reached the mighty Indus, where a prince greeted them

as a heaven-sent army, and could not be convinced that they

were merely shipwrecked seamen. There Sidi Ali's contingent

of soldiers elected to try their luck in service with the Indian

nabobs. The crews, following Sidi Ali, lost their arms in the local

war, and escaped with him in a stolen vessel up the river. De

tained as suspicious wanderers by a Sultan Mahmud, the ver

satile admiral told a tale that he had seen the blessed daughter

of the Prophet in a dream, and she had promised they would

reach their homes safely. On the strength of that he was given

a good horse and a pair of camels, with a tent and money for

the journey.

In the domain of the Great Moghul Sidi Ali wangled a cere

monious reception, because the "glorious name of our Pa

dishah" was known there. This courtesy he repaid with two

hasty poems, but found himself kept again at the court to cal

culate eclipses of the sun and moon for the Moghul's calendar.

He protested: "It is my clear duty to return and give an ac

counting to my Padishah." He tried more "poetic effusions"

without result.

When the reigning Moghul died, Sidi Ali saw his chance to

get away in the ensuing confusion. Urgently he advised the as-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

sembled counselors to conceal the death of their master, and

to spread a report that the ailing Moghul was healthy enough

to plan starting upon a journey. To aid in this deception, Sidi

Ali offered to start north himself with all his men, to give out

the story of the journey. He had not got far on his own journey,

however, when he was recalled by the new emperor, who hap

pened to be the celebrated Akbar. Brought back to court, Sidi

Ali composed a new poem lamenting the death of Akbar's

father. On the strength of that, -the shipwrecked mariners got

permission to depart.

Apparently they followed a river leading to the wild oxen and

equally wild Afghans, where they were feasted "with dancing

girls in every corner."

Then Sidi Ali must have got off his course, because his next

port of call was Samarkand, then under Uzbek rule. Since sailors

were unknown in the mountains of mid-Asia, Sidi Ali identified

his Turks as pilgrims, and was shown to his edification the tomb,

supposedly, of die Prophet Daniel. Asked what city had pleased

him most in his pilgrimage, he replied with a two-line verse:

"Far from home., no one longs for Paradise,

For to him his own home is more than Baghdad."

In Samarkand to his joy the homesick admiral found some

Turks. A regiment of janizaris had been lent to the Uzbeks by

Suleiman, and these identified Sidi Ali as an officer of the great

Sultan. Whereupon the Uzbek chieftains urged the crew to join

in a war with them, and Sidi AH to take for himself the govern

ment of Bokhara. Sidi Ali complained that as a servant of the

Sultan he should bear letters home, instead, from the powerful

Uzbek chieftains.

He was warned of lions in the desert, and assured that the

way was blocked by another strange folk, Russians, who had

appeared on the Caspian inland sea. "Be warned, and go back/'

That Sidi Ali would not do. Taking the letters of the Uzbeks,

the homesick admiral avoided the unknown Russians by shap-

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ing a course southerly across the red sands of the deserts. This

way, he entered Persia, a land antagonistic to all that was Turk

ish. Still, he made a detour to visit the grave of the illustrious

poet Firdawsi at the edge of a desert. Brought before Shah

Tahmasp in the Caucasus Mountains for questioning, he made

a good impression by writing another four-line poem in praise

of his host, the Shah. Again he was asked what city he had en

joyed most "Stambul [Constantinople]," he answered.

"Why Stambul?" Tahmasp wondered.

"Because in all the world there is no city like it; there is no

country like the Turkish, no army like* the Turkish army, and

no sovereign like the Padishah."

Sidi Ah did not find it hard to leave Persia. Descending the

mountains, he sighted the blue dome of the mosque of Baghdad,

and soon he was sitting on the same carpet with Turks, drink

ing fruit julep and chilled coffee, listening to the gossip of those

who had seen the Golden Horn within a year.

On his way thither he wrote a new book which he called The

Mirror of Many Countries. This he offered to Suleiman when

at last he passed under the plane trees, through the guardian

janizaris, into the presence of his lord. To Suleiman he explained

how he had lost his fleet, and had difficulty in returning home.

At the Serai they had supposed Sidi Ali to be lost at sea. His

post of Captain in Egypt had been given to an officer from

Rhodes. But Suleiman ordered three years* back pay to be

awarded the admiral and his men, and granted the wanderer an

honorary post near the Divan, hence close to the Sultan him

self.

That evening when Sidi Ali watched the sunset gleam on the

Horn sprinkled with the masts of ships at moorings, he felt

deeply content and he wrote, "Not in seeking greatness but in

a quiet mind lies the goodness that lasts/'

Nothing in Sidi Ali's narrative reveals Suleiman's keen dis

appointment at the failure of the fleet to dislodge the Por-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

tuguese from Goa. It was his last attempt to challenge the

Europeans on their ocean route to the east.

Yet within the Mediterranean his irrepressible captains were

driving the European flags from the open sea. At the Serai Ogier

Busbecq witnessed the triumphal return of one of them, after

Dragut and Piali Pasha had caught the Spanish armada in the

lagoon of drowsy Yerba.

"Piali sent a galley here with news of this victory/' Busbecq

relates. "She trailed in the water from her stern a krge flag of

the Cross [actually the standard of Spain]. When she entered

the harbor the Turks began congratulating each other. They

gathered in crowds at my door, and asked my men in mockery,

had they any kinsmen in the Spanish fleet? If so/ said they, 'you

will soon have the pleasure of seeing them/ . . /*

When the victorious fleet sighted Serai Point it hove to for the

night, to make its entry in all ceremony by day.

"Suleiman had gone down to the colonnade close to the

mouth of the harbor, which forms part of his gardens, that he

might have a nearer view of his fleet as it entered, and also of

the Christian officers who were exhibited on the deck. On the

poop of the admiral's galley were Don Alvaro de Sande and the

commanders of the Sicilian and the Neapolitan galleys [one of

them being Zuniga y Requesens who acquired dubious fame

later as Viceroy of the Netherlands]. These captured galleys

had been stripped of upper works, and towed along as mere

hulks.

"Those who saw Suleiman's face in this hour of triumph

failed to detect in it the slightest trace of undue elation. I can

myself positively declare that when I saw him two days later on

his way to the mosque, the expression of his face was un

changed; his stern features had lost nothing of their habitable

gloom; one would have thought that the victory concerned him

not, and that this startling success of his arms had caused him

no surprise. So self-contained was the heart of that grand old

man, so schooled to meet each change of Fortune however

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

great, that all the applause and triumph of that day wrung from

him no sign of satisfaction. . . .

"The royal standard of the Neapolitan galleys, bearing the

arms of the Kings of Spain, quartered with the Imperial Eagle,

had fallen into the hands of a Turkish officer with whom I was

acquainted. When I heard that he meant to present it to Sulei

man, I determined to make an effort to get possession of it. The

matter was easily arranged by my sending him a present of two

silk robes. Thus I prevented die glorious coat of arms of Charles

V from remaining with the enemy as a perpetual memorial of

that defeat."

The Ride to the Last Judgment

Suleiman would have cared nothing by then for the captured

coat of arms of his great adversary, Charles. In the summer that

followed he mounted his horse by the fountain of the third

court and rode for the last time to the east.

Before him trotted led horses; beside his stirrup silent runners

kept pace; beyond them the plumes of his mounted guardsmen

tossed. Past the Chamlija grove where the dead waited. Up the

height, where, turning, he could glimpse the blue breast of

Marmora. It hurt him to turn, and because of the pain he rode

an easy-paced Kabarda.

He rode with the venom of bitterness in him. At the Serai his

daughter Mihrmah had pleaded. She cried for mercy for Bay-

azid. Her voice chimed like Roxelana's in a song; she had

learned to play the flute to quiet him when they were alone.

No longer could he trust even Mihrmah. A woman could be

pleasing as a dove to gain something for herself

Rustem, her husband, sick and inarticulate, argued that Bay-

azid was their only hope. But how could there be mercy for

Bayazid?

Suleiman tried to think of what was good. So little good re-

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mained. By the road the grinding of water wheels and the

creaking of wheat-laden carts meant that the land had food.

That was well.

If he could find rest. What had the Moor said of the rest of

Charles? Far off in a monastery on the coast of Spain, Charles

had been weary; he had laid down the burden of his Empire,

to carry off with him some chosen paintings and treasured

clocks, to listen in the garden of Yuste to the prayers of his

monks.

The Moor said that Charles had ordered his servants to wake

him if they heard that Turkish fleets were attacking the coast

of Spain, but the servants had not done so, fearing to bring

grief to a dying man. Suleiman could not understand why

Charles kept on stuffing himself with the odd foods he craved,

hams and eels and anchovies, and wine as well. By so doing, the

physicians said he hastened his death . . . with a flash of pride

Suleiman remembered that the new Emperor Ferdinand still

paid him tribute each year.

That other monarch Francis, who pledged so much, had gone

into the unknown before Charles, leaving the lands of France

stripped and blackened by war ... his son Henry dying by

a lance thrust in the mock war of a tournament . . . there must

be no war with Shah Tahmasp, now, over Bayazid

It was strange that he should have outlived all those princes

of Europe. Even Isabella, that frightened, dignified princess of

Poland, to whom he had made a promise her son John was past

adolescence, ready to take the throne, as Mustafa had been.

John, they said, had a good wiR toward his Magyars; he wel

comed to him refugees of all faiths, even the Lutherans and

Calvinists . . . and he, Suleiman, was riding toward Amasiya

where Mustafa died.

Yes, John had suffered and so had grown tolerant of others.

Well, that. The refugees came down to him on rafts, drifting

down the river Save, as they drifted in to the islands Suleiman

now held ... he had written a letter not long ago to the new

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Pope, Paul He had not known how to address the letter

properly. How had they worded it, at the secretariat of the

Divan? To the most excellent lord of the imams of the Messiah

Jesus, and lord of Rome, may he be in the keeping of God.

Was that a fitting salutation to the great Pope? Suleiman

wondered, because no reply had come for a long time, although

the letter had asked only a small thing, the release of some He

brews who had been oppressed and their goods taken at the

port of Ancona which belonged to the great Pope. The Hebrews

were of Suleiman's city.

When at last it came the message from Rome had not spoken

of the Hebrews. It came by spoken word from a cardinal to an

envoy to Rustem's ear. It asked the Sultan to direct all his armed

forces, and especially his sea captains, against Sicily and Naples,

which belonged to the Spaniards, the enemies of Rome.

Once he could have smiled at the irony of that. Now Sicily

and Naples with Almanya and their thrones had become mean

ingless as the shadow shapes of hunchback clowns thrown

against a far-off screen at the feast of Bairam. Because of the

pain that burned his intestines and the pain in his mind, they

were shadows.

The image of Ferdinand whom he had never seen stood be

fore his eyes, over his road. Because in some way Suleiman must

win a truce from the new Emperor. For a few months, for time

enough to trick the Persians into quiet by threatening them with

war ... six months would do. Unless it could be arranged to

summon back Bayazid

Wind struck across the dry road, and the runners at his stirrup

turned their faces from the dust. Sudden, insensate anger

gripped the Sultan. Digging the points of his stirrups into the

flanks of his horse, he plunged ahead of the runners. He could

not summon Bayazid back. He called over his shoulder for a

runner to summon the Agha of the Messengers.

The man looked up, frightened by the screaming voice, and

he ran off like an animal. When the agha reined close to Sulei-

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man's stirrup, lie was told to turn back to the city to fetch the

emperor's ambassador, the little man who collected birds and

snakes, to Amasiya. To fetch him barely in time to watch the

great Persian amirs dismount at Suleiman's tent, so the little

Busbecq might have a lesson from the gracious reception of the

Persians. Suleiman did not add that then Busbecq would be the

more inclined to agree to a truce.

So it happened that Ogier Busbecq did not find it difficult to

view the prayers at Bairam, or to wander through the army.

When he reached Amasiya in the days that decided Bayazid's

fate, he wrote in his own words what passed.

"The Sultan was seated on a very low ottoman which was

covered with costly rugs. Near him lay his bow and arrows. His

years are just beginning to tell on him, but his bearing is majes

tic. He has always had the reputation of being a careful and

temperate man; nothing worse could be brought against him

than his excessive devotion to his wife, and the hurried way in

which he was induced to put Mustafa to death by her influence.

From the time she became his lawful wife, he had been per

fectly faithful to her.

"As an upholder of his religion he is most strict, being quite

as anxious to extend his faith as to extend his empire. Consider

ing his years (for he is now getting on for sixty) he enjoys good

health, though it may be that his bad complexion arises from

some lurking malady. There is a notion going around that he

has an incurable ulcher or cancer on his thigh. When he is anx

ious to impress an ambassador who is going away with a favor

able idea of his health, he hides the bad complexion of his face

under a coat of rouge his notion being that foreign powers will

fear him more if they think he is strong. I detected this when he

gave me a farewell audience and I found his face much

changed. . . .

"The Sultan's audience chamber was crowded with people;

but there was not in all that great assembly a single man who

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THE QUEST IN ASIA

owed his position to aught save his valor and his merit No dis

tinction is attached to birth among the Turks. There is no fight

ing for precedence. . . . Each man in Turkey carries in his own

hand his ancestry and his position in life which he may make or

mar as he wills.

"For they do not believe that high qualities descend from a

father to his son or heir, any more than a talent for music or

mathematics. Such qualities are partly the gift of God, partly

the result of good training and effort. . . . This is the reason

they are successful in their undertakings. . . .

"Take your stand by my side and look at that sea of turbaned

heads, each wrapped in twisted folds of the whitest silk; look at

those marvellously handsome dresses ... it was the most

beautiful spectacle I ever saw. ... I was struck with the silence

and order that prevailed in this great crowd. There were no

cries, no hum of voices, nor jostling . . . apart from the rest a

long line of janizaris was drawn up. It was some time before I

could make up my mind whether they were human beings or

statues; at last I received a hint to salute them, and saw all their

heads bending at the same moment to return my bow. . . . On

leaving the assembly we had a fresh treat in the sight of the

household cavalry returning to their quarters; the men were

mounted on splendid horses, excellently groomed and ac

coutred.

"The Persian ambassador had arrived, bringing with him a

number of handsome presents, carpets from famous looms,

tents lined with colored tapestries; but the chief present of all

was a copy of the Koran. Terms of peace were granted him im

mediately, with the intention of putting greater pressure on us,

who seemed to be the more troublesome. To convince us of the

reality of the peace, honors were showered on the representa

tive of the Shah. The Turks run to extremes, in honoring a

friend or pouring contempt on a foe. Ali Pasha, the Second

Vizir, gave the Persian suite a dinner in his gardens, which we

could view from our quarters. Ali Pasha, I must tell you, is by

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birth a Dalmatian; he is a thorough gentleman and has (what

you will be surprised to hear of in a Turk) a kind and feeling

heart.

"Peace having been concluded with the Persians, it was im

possible for us to obtain any decent terms from the Turk; all we

could accomplish was to arrange a six months* truce. Having

received the Sultan's letter, which was sealed up in a wrapper

of cloth of gold, I took my leave, with little hope of a successful

issue to our embassy. ...

"My journey was marked by evil chance. I met some wagons

of boys and girls who were being carried from Hungary to the

slave market at Constantinople. This is the commonest kind of

Turkish merchandise. The men were either driven in gangs or

bound to a chain in a long file, as we take a string of horses to a

fair."

Busbecq returned to Constantinople that summer with a

sense of the common purpose that was moving the Sultan and

his Turks toward a destination unpredictable as yet. Astute

enough, Ferdinand's ambassador realized how a display had

been put on at Amasiya to influence him. All that he had seen,

even to the rouge on Suleiman's sallow cheeks, he had been

"meant to see. But for what purpose, he did not know. The six

months' truce he believed himself fortunate to get.

That stopgap of a little time Suleiman had needed desper

ately, to make his last judgment upon Bayazid.

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Malta,

AND THE LAST MARCH OUT

The Impossible Task

TF ROXELANA had not conspired at the death of Gulbehar's

J[ son, and if her own son Selim had not been afraid, it would

not have happened. Selim the Sot, the janizaris called him, well

aware how he got drunk in secret and clung to the companion

ship of those who bolstered his self-esteem, women and ambi

tious souls who for good reason had been given no post near the

Sultan, or high in the Organization,

Busbecq heard the talk and reported in his turn that Selim

was singularly unmannerly, and "had never done a kind deed,

and never made a friend/*

Three things Selim feared, the anger of his aging father, the

sight of a bowstring in powerful hands that would end his life,

and the lovable personality of his younger brother Bayazid in

whom people beheld the image of Suleiman. To his father Selim

wrote with the shrewdness of a neurotic, *I do not try to curry

popularity which would raise me up in the esteem of the

crowds, to be a rival to my father, the Lord of the Two Worlds."

He had nothing to depend on, he added, except the love of his

father. Everybody else hated him.

In almost these words Roxelana had pleaded for the fat and

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

florid Selim. Replying, Suleiman urged his self-pitying son to

stop worrying and try to live as the Koran taught him. Where

upon Selim's letters carefully written for him by othersvoiced

a new fear. Not for himself, he insisted, did he feel such cease

less anxiety; he worried for his father's life. Conspirators could

so easily enter Constantinople where Bayazid had been seen

to venture, disguised, to talk secretly with the janizaris at the

gate of the Serai to launch arrows at the Sultan when he rode

forth from the inner courtyard.

This filial warning Suleiman brushed aside. Sharply he re

minded Roxelana's two sons that they had only one obligation,

to carry out the duties assigned to them. But he could not forget

that Bayazid was gaining popularity with the janizaris, who had

found a new nickname for Selim, the Stall-fed Ox. Then, too,

there was truth in Selim's complaint that the dour Rustem be

lieved him to be a drunkard, incapable of ever governing the

Osmanli state. Rustem, sickening under the strain of overwork,

did believe that, and said so.

So tense had grown the rivalry between the two heirs, and

so closely were foreign observers watching it, that Suleiman had

sent them to governments in opposite directions, away from the

talk and plotting in his city. "He was well aware," Busbecq

wrote, "that the eyes of the world were on the rivalry between

his sons."

Perhaps he had wanted to test Bayazid, perhaps he had

merely sent the stronger man to the post of greater danger. But

Bayazid objected immediately to such a post, near the eastern

frontier and far from the city. Amasiya had been Mustafa's post,

and memories of rebellion lingered among its hills. Probably

Bayazid's real grievance was not that he had been allotted

Amasiya, but that Selim had been given Magnisiya whence

Suleiman himself had ridden to the city in four days to be pro

claimed Sultan. The memory of that also endured. By his ac

tion, Suleiman had seemed to, support Selim against Bayazid.

Actually he was doing so. His sons were almost forty years of

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MALTA, AND THE LAST MARCH OUT

age; he felt the weariness of nearly seventy years. By keeping

them passive, and alive for a short space longer, he could count

on an impersonal force to maintain the OsmanU rule after him.

This was the Organization itself, never more efficient than now.

Probably he anticipated that single-minded servants like Rus-

tem and Sokolli would turn to Bayazid immediately, to lead

them. Certainly Selim feared that they would do so.

"I will make no change in the government now. Obey me

while I live. The one , who disobeys will be guilty of treason,"

Suleiman ordered his sons impartially. "After that, all will be

between you as God wills."

Suleiman could not retire to a monastery as Charles had done.

Nor could he divide the Osmanli state between two persons.

One man and one purpose must rule.

Suleiman's own purpose might have been carried out, if it had

not been for the cunning of Lala Mustafa.

Lala Mustafa had tutored each boy in turn, long before, and

had an intimate knowledge of their dispositions. Shrewd as he

was, he had not been promoted in the Organization, and had

been marked by Rustem as a failure, to be thrown out at the

first chance. Having nothing much to lose, the tutor worked on

Selim's fears. Bayazid, he declared, was the Sultan's favorite,

yet he had means of stirring incurable antagonism between

Bayazid and his father the price was that Lala Mustafa should

be First Vizir, under Selim.

Patiently and taking great pains to keep his distance from

Suleiman, the tutor played on Bayazid's exasperation, convinc

ing the younger brother that Selim, who appeared so innocuous,

meant to have his life. That being so, Bayazid's best safeguard

was to force the Sot to make an open move against him. That,

in turn, might be done by enraging him. Bayazid was suffi

ciently convinced to send his brother gifts of a woman's cap,

with ribbon streamers, and a distaff.

These exhibits Lala Mustafa advised Selim to forward with

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a complaint to his father. Knowing that Suleiman would send a

message at once to Bayazid, the tutor had the courier waylaid

and killed and the letter burned unread within Bayazid's terri

tory. At this point Suleiman sent two of the highest officers of

the Divan, the third and fourth vizirs, to the armed camps now

gathering at Magnisiya and Amasiya.

As to Bayazid's mobilization, Busbecq records, "Suleiman

regarded these preparations as directed against himself; never

theless he passed them over for the most part in silence. This

cautious old man did not want to render Bayazid desperate and

so drive him into open rebellion."

In an effort to prevent armed conflict between the brothers,

he sent a stern arbiter, Sokolli (who had caught the impostor

Mustafa), with a token force of veteran janizaris and spahis

into Selim's district. Sokolli, however, took forty cannons with

him. At this Bayazid sent open warning to the Serai. "In every

thing I will obey the command of the Sultan my father, except

in all that lies between Selim and me."

What followed exceeded Lala Mustafa's hopes. Far to the

south at Koniah, Bayazid's followers clashed with Selim's forces,

stiffened by the Sultan's contingent. Observers rekted that a

hot desert wind blew dust from the Mevlevi monastery near the

fighting into the faces of Bayazid's men. So God's will seemed to

turn against the younger brother. Sokolli's forty guns beat oflF

the attack. Yet Bayazid carried out of the conflict the admira

tion of the fighting forces on both sides for his personal daring.

And, with a generous impulse, he wrote his father a full admis

sion that he had been wrong; he would take no further action

for himself but would rely on the Sultan's judgment.

This might have ended Suleiman's uncertainty and suspicion.

But the letter was intercepted and destroyed by Lala Mustafa.

Somehow in doing so, he caught the attention of Rustem, and

the vigilant Vizir began to trace down the tutor's actions during

the crisis. At the same time the anxious Bayazid, getting no an

swer to his appeal, acted as impulsively as before. He had reined

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his horse forward, to give battle to the Osmanli standard. If he

was to be condemned for that, by Selim's trickery, he would

fight in earnest. Swiftly for he hated indecision he borrowed

what he could from wealthy merchants and sent word forth that

he was raising an army under his own standard.

Bayazid's failing at this moment was his heritage of courage.

A daring, generous leader, he gathered restless chieftains to

him as a wind pulls rootless brush Turkomans galloping in

from their sheep herds, marauding Kurds from the mountains,

with followers of the dead Mustafa, and levelheaded officers

who saw in him the true heir of the Osmanli line.

His move to rebel set flaine to the dry tinder of the eastern

frontier.

Death of Bayazid

At the Serai, propped up in the garden, Suleiman faced again

the ghost of Mustafa. The grim Rustem, dying slowly as he

labored, unearthed the trickery of Lala Mustafa, who was ex

iled in spite of Selim's protest.

They hardly heeded Lala Mustafa. Their actual danger lay

in the army. For years Suleiman had sought to change it from

the old feudal mobilization to a disciplined striking force that

would serve the Sultan's need. No panoplied Serasker com

manded the new Turkish asker; the great drum of conquest had

not sounded for years. The strength of the mounted levies, the

Turkish Timars, had thinned away. The formidable Turkish

feudal warriors were changing into cattle-breeding landowners.

There remained the strengthened nucleus of the personal

army, janizaris and spahis now on duty throughout the do

main, and as Sokolli realized so well the massive artillery

train.

Now around their soup kettles, at the gates, and along the

road to Amasiya these same veterans were disturbed in spirit.

They spoke their minds without fear, "We are commanded to

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

draw our swords, but against whom? Against the hope of the

country itself. Against the one who is the likeness of our Sultan.

Why does our Sultan prefer that fat hug-a-girl, who needs to be

kicked out of his sleeping robes . . . did he gain the victory at

Koniah? Nay, by the ninety and nine Holy Names, it was the

wind of the dervishes and the cannon of Mehmed Sokolli the

Beylerbey. . . .

'What, then, did Bayazid do, that we should march against

him? He did no more than Yavuz Sultan Selim, who mounted to

the saddle to fight for his right nay, it was less than that. Bay

azid did not draw his sword against his father. He had a good

heart toward his father. It is verily a sin if we obey an order to

go against Bayazid!"

From the field came reports of units that would not obey a

command to march, and of cavalry that trotted off for t a day

and returned only at leisure, to demonstrate their dislike of

a campaign. Suleiman knew these signs.

"Even the Sultan," the ailing Rustem assured Busbecq, "fears

a revolt of the janizaris. At a time like this, if he cannot control

them, no one is able to do so."

In those hours Suleiman was paying the price of allowing the

great field army of the Yavuz Sultan to deteriorate. He had

hoped to create such a way of ordered life within the domain

that the army would cease to be the instrument of his rule. Now

he realized it was impossible. Out in the provinces a vast bor

derland of warlike peoples kept their spirit of independence,

from the mountain Serbs of the Dalmatian coast, who would

serve under him only as Christians, through the Wallachian

Christians, and the Asiatic Tatars in their stronghold of the

Crimea, the Georgians in the Caucasus valiant Christians and

the wild Kurds and Turkomans of the eastern mountains.

They were bound to him by no more than the fragile thread

of loyalty and some of them by the tie of religion. Loyalty

could change at the appeal of a new voice; it could never be

held fast

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Report came in from Koniah that in the combat outside the

monastery the veteran troops had obeyed Sokolli only with

their bodies; their hearts had been with Bayazid. In the cool

shadow of the Throne Room Within, messengers waited with a

writing from Bayazid. It urged his father not to cross the water

to Asia; Bayazid had his quarrel only with Selim, but if his

father came into the field, the land would be laid waste.

Suleiman put the writing aside, in silence. In bitterness he

made his decision. All those who waited and watched for his

next action would see him again as the commander of invincible

troops. He straightened against the stabbing pain in his shoul

ders. After long brooding he asked three questions with great

care, and a secretary wrote them down on purple paper, while

Rustem pondered them in assenting silence.

"First, how must the Sultan treat the man who, in his own

lifetime, raised money to arm followers and attack towns, and

trouble the peace of the land?

"Second, what should be thought of those who joined him

and assisted him?

"Third, what could be thought of those who justified him and

refused to take up arms against him?"

These questions he sent to the Judge of Islam, anticipating

the opinion returned to him by Ibn Sa'ud that the man de

served the utmost punishment, and those who aided him did

evil because they acted against their religion.

It was then that Suleiman crossed the water to Asia and rode

to Amasiya, whither he had Busbecq follow him. He sent

Sokolli ahead with Selim to search for Bayazids new army. Hav

ing gained his brief truce with Europe and his signed peace

with the Shah across the border, Suleiman dispatched urgent

messages to the restless peoples of the borderland, notably the

great Kurdish tribes and the Georgians, announcing a sum

mons to war, and demanding their support for the Sultan who

had taken command of the army himself, to lead it against Bay

azid.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Within that brief summer the conflagration along the frontier

was checked. The implacable Sokolli caught up with the fugi

tive army. Bayazid cut himself loose from pursuit, and headed

east for Persia with his four sons, and women, his string of bag

gage camels and best mounted men. In the highland passes they

beat back the Sultan's horsemen, and made their way to the

court of Tahmasp, who greeted Bayazid with royal honors,

gladly enough, swearing that he would be forever safe on Per

sian soil.

Yet when he crossed the frontier Bayazid had put an end to

himself.

At first he felt only the exhilaration of action, riding at the

head of his reckless cavaliers, as the royal guest of the sophis

ticated Shah. He rode in tournaments of mutual celebration

where, unfortunately, his Turkish timariots overthrew too many

Persian champions. He wrote to Suleiman that he had found

another father in the Shah.

For a few months the courts of nearer Europe looked expect

antly toward Tabriz, where the son of the great Sultan had

taken refuge with Tahmasp "the Sufi." Among the Venetians a

faint hope stirred afreshthat these Persians might draw the

Turks eastward, into destructive war.

Immediately Tahmasp tried to realize a profit from his hos

tage. Under cover of routine salutation to Suleiman, sugges

tions were ventured that Bayazid might be given frontier prov

inces such as Erzerum in the mountain passageway, or Baghdad

by the Tigris and Euphrates waterways (both thereby coming

again under Persian rule ) .

These feelers Suleiman brushed aside. He had made his de

cision when Bayazid left Turkish soil. From that moment Bay

azid ceased to be his son and became a rebel. For those closest

to him, the aged ruler had no final tolerance. Moreover, his

officers from Sokolli down to the spahis accepted the fact that

in sheltering himself at Tabriz, Bayazid had forsaken his her-

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itage, and ceased to be an Osmanli. Oddly, they had not felt

that when their favorite rode against the guns at Koniah. By the

standard of intractable Turkish loyalty Mustafa remained a

martyr, Bayazid a traitor. There was no longer danger of civil

war, and Suleiman saw to it that the frontiers around Persia

became a menace to the Shah. With the Uzbek power in Samar

kand he allied himself.

To Tahmasp the Sultan made two things clear: the price of

peace would be the surrender of Bayazid, and for that only

money would be paid.

From demanding, Tahmasp's agents turned to bargaining and

then to face saving. Suleiman's son had become the guest of

their master, and it was unthinkable that Bayazid should be

given up to captivity

Suleiman, implacable in his anger, would neither bargain nor

discuss Persian scruples. Four hundred thousand gold coins

were sent to Tahmasp by the hand of an executioner. The Per

sians made excuses to scatter Bayazid's followers among distant

villages, there to disarm them, and massacre them as dangerous

conspirators. Bayazid himself was seized as he sat at banquet

with the Shah, and surrendered under the pretext that he was

to be escorted back to his brother, not to Suleiman. He went

only a little way before he was put to death with all his sons

by the Turkish executioner. Rumor had it that they shaved his

face first, in order to identify him beyo'nd doubt as the Bayazid

who had held court at Amasiya. The Persians had dressed him

in dirty sheepskins girdled with a rope so he would no longer

appear to be the Turkish prince, to whom the Shah had pledged

protection.

When Suleiman rode back to the Serai, few familiar faces

greeted him as he dismounted by the fountain of the third court.

He had left Selim in charge of the government at Kutahiya in

Anatolia, and he did not summon his surviving son to his pres

ence again. Rustem died the same year Bayazid was put to

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death, 1561. Toward the end, the grim Vizir had done as the

Sultan did, giving the bulk of his immense fortune to the Wakf

so great a gift that he had received back yearly an income of

200,000 sequins from his religious foundations.

Mehmed Sokolli, "the Falcon/' was absent from the Serai,

carrying out the duties in the field that Suleiman could no

longer undertake. Only Ibn Sa'ud in the white Mufti's turban

stood by his stirrup. The pages who tended him now, and the

boys of the School waiting across the courtyard under the elms,

seemed like children so young were they. Suleiman had diffi

culty in remembering their names. It did not seem important

to remember, now.

He had looked forward to having Mihrmah wait upon him.

But his daughter no longer occupied the chambers around the

Throne Room Within. Devoted to Bayazid, she would not for

give her father for his death. Mourning for Rustem, her hus

band, she had moved away with her women and black slaves.

Only when he inquired for her did Suleiman discover that

Mihrmah had moved to the shell of the old palace on the hill.

She had left a message for him, indirectly, by the mouth of

her Captain of the Girls. She wore mourning now for all of

her family. No longer would she occupy the chambers of state

that had been Roxelana's.

In this message echoed a woman's anger. It recalled to Sulei

man the words of his sister, of years before in the old palace-

she had hoped the time might come when she would wear

mourning for him, her brother. Mihrmah was the only one re

maining of his family whom he cherished. And he wondered if

she had not hated her brilliant mother Roxelana, and if she did

not hate him now. . . .

Bayazid's bright face, Jahangir's shy smile, turned up to him

from the crippled Shoulders, he had lost them. The life of his

family had fallen into the hungry body of Selim, the wine-

bibber. He could not restore his family to life; he could not

breed new sons from the body of a strange girl. . . .

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He ordered the door into Roxelana's chambers sealed up. In

his two rooms he slept and ate alone now. Often he limped

down the Golden Road past the salaaming slaves who rose from

their niches, to the listening window above the heads of the

strange young men who sat in the Divan. In Mehmed Sokolli

alone he could put trust.

When he woke before dawn, to shift his body and ease the

gnawing pain, he often heard the fresh strong voice of a boy

reading prayers across the courtyard. Sometimes he called to

him a gifted boy, Baki, the son of a Turkish muezzin who could

write words that pulsed with life. The Khan of Poets, Suleiman

called him. Baki was shy, because many people did not believe

he actually wrote his poems. They said so much that a boy could

hardly know.

Suleiman never asked Baki to read the kasida, the ode he

had penned for his Sultan. "Lord of the realm of gracious-

ness . . . in thy domain no man weeps beneath a tyrant's vex

ing ... the fortune of our king . . , upon the throne above all

crowned kings . . . the heart-throne is the seat of that high

Sovereign."

Simple, Turkish words. Under a boy's hand they reached

toward something splendid. How could Baki know that Sulei

man, who had failed in so much, had sought for something told

in these words, yet had failed in that also?

Ages ago when he had been eager as Baki, he had watched

a lovely girl, Gulbehar, embroider a case for his own stupid

writings. . . .

Calling the Keeper of the Gate to bring before him fair new

girls from the old palace, Suleiman chose one of their number.

He bestowed her on Baki as a gift from the Sultan.

"To be a companion to him," he said.

Perhaps when he rode through the courtyard gate of the

Suleimaniye mosque on Fridays, young minds like Bald's be

held splendor in the robed horsemen, with plumes sweeping

down from their heads, entering the portal of the house of the

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Lord . . . between the four lofty minarets, with the seven bal

conies with the lamps of Ramazan. . . .

When he lowered his weight from the saddle, helped by the

hands of the runners at his stirrup, Suleiman felt the searing

pain rise from his legs into his body. Dizziness tormented his

eyes.

Watching his every move, young Marcantonio Donini, the

secretary of the Venetian Bailo, noticed how he had aged in the

last year. "Feeble of body, dropsical, with swollen legs and ap

petite gone, and face of a very bad color. In the month of March

last he had four or five fainting fits. According to common opin

ion, his death must occur soon. . . . May God bring about that

which may be of most advantage to all Christendom."

The greatest advantage to Christendom had been the death

of Bayazid. Suleiman realized the loss. The leadership of the

fearful Selim could never carry forward the Osmanli rule as

either of his two favored sons might have done. But he could

not have realized how great that loss was to be.

Refuge on the Black Mountain

Suleiman had one great hope remaining. For years he had

been winning the quiet conflict of religions. His missionaries

had penetrated far beyond the armies that he had held back.

By wandering dervish, Koran reader, and soldier of Islam he

had offered conversion to European villagers. Peasants had

moved their carts across the Turkish border, where they might

keep an unbelievable amount of the grain they harvested; Greek

islanders could sell their boatloads of fish at seaside markets

and keep the money. Transylvanian foresters and Slavs of the

Carpathians were accepting Islam not so much for tangible

gain as for the feeling of joining a brotherhood of peoples.

Doors were not barred or watchdogs loosed within this

brotherhood. Bread could be had by asking at the gates. Mi-

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grating heretics found their Jacobite and Protestant churches

building beyond the Turkish borders. At the outer gate of the

Serai itself stood the stone washing basin of the Blessed Mother

Mary, for all to see. The name of Issa (Jesus) was heard in

Moslem prayers.

Even the dour Rustem had tried to convert Busbecq, who ex

plained that he was determined to keep the religion in which he

was born.

"That is well enough," said Rustem, "but what will become

of your soul?"

"For my soul, also," Busbecq replied, "I have good hopes/*

After thinking a moment, the Vizir said, "You are right; and

I agree that men who live in holiness will survive after death,

whatever religion they have followed."

Busbecq could not say the same. He felt the compulsion of

the faith that surrounded him, as if he were swimming almost

alone against a tide that carried others with it. That tide had

engulfed most of the Greek islands by then, and the valleys of

the Balkans, It swept far out over the eastern steppes, almost to

the walls of Moscow.

Within Suleiman's dominion armed Christianity resisted only

on the Black Mountain (the Montenegro of the Europeans).

On the gray granite heights backed against the sheer shore of

the Adriatic the mountain Serbs kept their swords and their

faith, where monasteries had been turned into forts, priests into

warriors, and prelates into diplomats. There they had an active

printing press and a legend that Skanderbeg, their defender of

old time, walked among them again as a ghost. "Oh, it's no

shadow/' they said, "the freedom of the Black Mountain. No

other than God could banish it, and who knows he might tire

of trying."

The Turks had tried, by occupying the fertile valleys below,

by taking the valley Serbs into the army, and transplanting

colonies of Moslem Slavs to the foothills. Cut off from plowable

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land, the Black Mountain Serbs held out above the cloud level,

and in so doing formed a nucleus of resistance.

This isolated group was to move against the Turkish religious

expansion long before the courts of Vienna, Naples, or Madrid

managed to do so.

The other island of resistance was in reality an island, in the

narrows of the Mediterranean, the Malta of the Knights. The

Knights, stoically fortifying their rock-ribbed harbor, remained

as culturally backward and as indomitable as the feudal Serbs.

From that base their squadron of seven red galleys raided the

new masters of the Mediterranean. They were very much alone

in doing so.

The dreaded Spaniards had been driven back along North

Africa to the Gibraltar region by the Turkish sea captains and

the expatriated Moors. Far from becoming another New Spain,

this continent was astir with the expansion of Islam. Spanish

conquistadors returning home with the plate fleet from Mexico

and the Indies had to slip past Turkish fleets to gain the guard

ian rock of Gibraltar.

It was due to Dragut, who bedeviled Philip II as Barbarossa

had haunted the memory of Charles. Dragut the Anatolian,

impish in his merriment and kindly when not in action, had

more than Barbarossa's instinct for battle. His duel with Philip

was fought with every weapon, in most unexpected places.

Each summer Dragut called at Naples. His crews overran

Sicily, and looked in at Majorca. Slipping past Gibraltar, he

hauled in a Spanish treasure convoy from the Atlantic, a few

years before the English took to doing so. The English ambas

sador wrote to his Queen, Elizabeth, "The Moors have de

spoiled many merchant ships about Seville and Cadiz, and

among them three English ships, with a booty of more thari

100,000 ducats."

The Moors were on Dragut's ships. Philip II, now King ol

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Spain, seeking to regain the empire of his father, Charles, found

that his commanders were no match for the Turks in seaman

ship. His first expedition to Africa had been trapped by Dragut

in the Yerba lagoon; another twenty-five galleys went down in

a storm with their admiral, Juan de Mendoza. For the time be

ing Philip accepted defeat in his duel with Dragut.

Only Malta remained, in 1564, to challenge the Turks.

Dragut believed the stronghold of the Religion too dangerous

to attack. When the sea captains from the Golden Horn raided

it a dozen years before, he had studied the defenses of its port

and had contented himself with capturing the neighboring

island of Gozo.

To Suleiman, however, the island of white stone held personal

significance. In his youth he had driven those same Knights

from Rhodes; they defied not only him but Islam; if they could

be swept away again, the paths of the Mediterranean would be

cleared. Yet Dragut warned him against attempting it

So far he had given no order to move against Malta. Em

bittered now by the execution of Bayazid, and feeling sickness

growing upon him, he thought of the capture of Malta as a

triumph over the infidels, to mark the end of his life. He was

willing now to use all his weapons by land or sea against the

Europeans.

Then a slight incident fixed his anger on Malta. The cruising

fleet, the seven red galleys, of the truculent Knights took some

Turkish merchantmen near at hand in the Aegean, while

Dragut and Piali Pasha were off as usual in the west.

Mihrmah seized on the incident to taunt him. Sick herself,

in the old palace, she challenged her 1 father. Had he not taken

command of the armed forces, to destroy Bayazid? Was he not

Protector of the Faithful against these very infidels who had

raided within sight of the Dardanelles? What fear kept him

from destroying Malta?

How much he was influenced by her taunt there is no telling.

Unquestionably there was popular demand for the capture of

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Malta. Suleiman ordered it. The new Serasker was to assemble

storm troops and siege guns, transports were to be built, and

the sea captains recalled from their adventuring to reduce the

stronghold of the Knights.

One condition he made. His Serasker and Kaputan Pasha

were to undertake nothing on the isknd until Dragut appeared

there and consented to it.

The Dead Men of St. Elmo

Perhaps the temperamental Dragut sulked on the way. Per

haps the day of the rendezvous at Malta had not been made

clear to him, or he was delayed in assembling the African

squadrons. Whatever the reason, he was late. When he sighted

the whitish mass of Malta on the sky line, and headed his cap

tain's galley toward the harbor, he heard the thudding of the

guns around the point of land on which stood the fort of St.

Elmo.

As he rounded the harbor entrance Dragut could see what

had happened. The Turkish commanders had not waited for

him. Under the haze of smoke their siege lines zigzagged up

the height toward the ramparts of St. Elmo. Against those ram

parts their batteries were pounding. They had done their work

well, at the wrong place. Across the harbor the gray town of

the Knights lay like a giant tortoise, its sides armored with

forts, unmolested.

When Dragut landed and inspected the small island, which

the Turks had overrun easily enough, he realized the strength

and the weakness of Malta. Its stone-ridden earth resisted dig

gingtrenches had to be hewn with picks at night; on this

barren ground, ceded to them almost contemptuously by the

great Emperor, the Knights were waiting behind projecting

bastions of solid masonry, shielded by scarp and counterscarp,

heavily gunned where cross fire could sweep the Approaches.

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All these outthrusts of solid stonework had to be shattered

by massive gunfire before they could be attacked by fragile

human bodies. Against such inanimate strength, mere numbers

of attackers availed nothing. Nor were great numbers needed

to serve the defenses. The Knights, wise in the ways of sieges,

had planned for that. Their galleys were safely ensconced in

the basin within the defenses of the town, the Borgo. Across

the mouth of this basin a massive chain had been drawn.

(Actually within all the forts there were 500 Knights, 1300

hired soldiery, with 4000 seamen and Maltese. Against these

the Turks had brought 4500 veteran janizaris, 7500 dismounted

spahis, and 18,000 engineers, sailors, light infantry and others.)

Malta had a weakness, however, and Dragut pointed it out

to his commanders. The great harbor sprawled among indenta

tions. The Knights, being few and with little wealth, had been

able to fortify only the Borgo itself around the galley basin.

Back of the harbor, ridges overlooked this citadel. Batteries

placed on these ridges could blast a way into the citadel itself

in time.

"Here," said Dragut, on the heights, "should be your cannon/'

The commander of the Turks, Mustafa Pasha, the Serasker,

had chosen instead to take St. Elmo, isolated across the harbor.

St. Elmo was the key to the harbor entrance. Once they had

broken into St. Elmo they could bring their fleet into the harbor

and come to close grips with the main defenses of the Knights,

at the Borgo. Piali, the Kaputan Pasha, did not agree with him,

nor did the experienced Dragut. "I see well enough that the

fort over there stands in our way to the town/' he exclaimed.

"But if we take the town itself our work is over, and the fort

matters nothing. How much powder and how many lives will

you waste at St. Elmo before you order us to do what we must

do in any case?"

Still, die advance against St. Elmo had been pushed too far

to be abandoned. It had to be carried through, as Malta itself

had to be taken. Suleiman had ordered them not to fail. The

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Serasker knew, as Dragut and Piali knew, that the three of them

could not sail back to the Golden Horn to say to Suleiman that

for the first time the Osmanli fleet and army had been defeated.

Moreover, they had to labor against time. Malta was almost

within sight of Sicily, which adjoined Italy. Surely in a month,

or two at the most, a relief armada would be putting out from

the European shores. . . .

The blasting of the Turkish guns cracked and crumbled the

solid masonry of St. Elmo. Dragut's driving energy encompassed

the doomed fort; his batteries raked it from an opposite height,

stopping supplies from crossing the bay to the fort.

It is not by courage and simple hand-to-hand fighting that

such segments of earth can be defended. Human endurance

weakens under such battering; wearied men surrender them

selves or escape if they can, or they fail at the unending labor

by which they can keep themselves alive. After the first vicious

assault along the broken glacis, the garrison of St. Elmo sent

word across to the Grand Master of the Order that they could

not beat back another storm.

The Grand Master, Jean de La Valette, was old as Suleiman.

He had been spared after the loss of Rhodes and shipped home

by the generosity of the Sultan. Devout, he lived out his life in

mental armor. Like Dragut, he had been a captive galley slave.

He could not conceive of turning his back on the infidel Turks,

or of making a truce with them. "Do you wish me, then," he

wrote in answer to the survivors in the fort, "to take command

at St. Elmof

Stung by the Grand Master's scorn, they stood off the next

attack. Dragut flung a bridge of spars and canvas across the

ditch before the breach. For five hours the Turks attacked

across the bridge. Very few of the Knights and mercenaries in

side the fort remained unwounded, but they had passed the

point where nerves give way. They went on piling broken

stones into new barriers.

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Dragut had reached Malta the second of June. On the six

teenth, directing an attack along the St. Elmo breaches, he was

struck in the head by splintered rock, his skull shattered.

Mustafa Pasha hurried to where he lay with physicians, who de

cided that Dragut could not live. Hearing that, the Serasker put

his cloak over the sea captain and stood in his place to take over

command of the attack. Piali Pasha was wounded by iron frag

ments, but not fatally.

While Dragut still lived, conscious of what went on, the un

ceasing assault thinned down the St. Elmo garrison to the point

where the Knights could not muster enough swords to cover

all the breaches. Understanding that they could hold out only a

limited time, De La Valette sent over a mission of three Knights

under cover of darkness, an Englishman, Italian and French

man. The three got back to report to him. Two of them gave the

opinion that the fort was doomed; the third could not decide,

saying that the survivors were of a good mind to man their walls

and not to surrender.

The Grand Master decided that they should stay and die at

their posts, after taking the final sacrament from each other.

The Turks who broke into St. Elmo on the twenty-fourth of

June found wounded men propped up in chairs, sword in hand y

to face them. Not one survived. Enraged by their terrible losses,

the attackers stripped the bodies, hacking red crosses into the

chests and throwing them into the bay to drift across to the

citadel.

Dragut remained conscious long enough to hear of the cap

ture of the fort. He had been the most brilliant commander of

the Mediterranean, and the only one who had never been

known to fail. His loss was to affect the venture of the Turks

upon the sea.

No relief fleet appeared on the sky line off Malta. It had been

promised by mid- June. At the end of the month a single galley

beached on the far side of the island, with less than a hundred

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Knights and their followers. They had put off in a vessel of their

own, unable to endure the delay of the Viceroy in Sicily, who

was assembling a flotilla at Messina.

Aided by a fog and something manifestly like a miracle, this

small force found its way through the Turkish lines at night, to

report to De La Valette in the Borgo. They told of money given

by Pope Pius IV, of promises made by the Spaniards, of ships

offered by merchants, and a steady march of volunteers into

Messina, where no one embarked because Garcia de Toledo,

the Viceroy of Spain in Sicily, would not put to sea without the

protection of a battle fleet stronger than the Turks'. The simple

truth was that too many people were afraid. The Viceroy now

promised that he would cross over to Malta "sometime in July."

His sails were sighted actually on the fifth of September.

For seventy-three days De La Valette's citadel endured the

battering that had broken apart St. Elmo. From the heights

behind the town the Turks kept up a dropping fire that searched

the streets, while their engineers drove approaches under the

walls. "A battery began," Knolles relates, "in fourteen places

with seventy great pieces of artillery amongst which were three

most huge basilisks; for the Turks had enclosed all that com

pass with sundry bulwarks, trenches and mounts, from which

they with their thundering shot day and 'night incessantly bat

tered the towns and castles of St. Michael and St. Angelo, over

threw the walls, beat down the bulwarks, and brake down the

houses in such terrible manner that scarce any could be safe

therein."

Mustafa Pasha's engineers drove a causeway out to one of the

forts. Hassan, the son of Barbarossa and, like him, Beylerbey

of Algiers contrived to haul galleys overland to launch them in

the harbor behind the forts and attack by water. His attempt

ended in the total loss of his crews because the vessels were

sunk or drifted loose and the attackers were left without means

of retreat. The Knights took no prisoners.

Salih Reis, son of the sea captain who had aided Barbarossa,

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tried a surprise assault with a small band. They crept forward

during a quiet hour of the day. Five men who had been asleep

in the ruin of a bastion held his party back, until the armored

Knights could come up to defend the post.

Turkish swimmers took axes with them in darkness to reach

and try to destroy the chain across the inner basin. They were

met by Maltese swimmers with knives in their teeth.

The rock-ribbed earth under the walls made tunneling almost

impossible. But the Serasker drove a shaft through and exploded

a mine that shattered the side of a bastion. His immediate at

tack across the mine crater fell into a trap prepared for it.

Tunneling through rock had made too much noise and the de

fenders had traced the course of the shaft in time to build new

fortifications at its end.

Still Mustafa Pasha took his losses, knowing that the Knights

were weakened by a little at each clash of the fighting men.

Late in August a series of mines were exploded, and he led a

mass assault himself in his gilded mail. The attack wave could

not penetrate the breaches. The Serasker was pinned down in a

crater with those who had followed him through the outworks.

There they held off the sallies of the Christians until nightfall,

when they could crawl back to their lines.

De La Valette's lieutenants counted their casualties after this

assault. They no longer had sufficient force, they said, to hold

the circle of the forts. They gave their opinion that all holy

relics, personal valuables of the Knights and the remaining

stores should be moved into a part of the citadel still intact, the

Castle of St. Angelo. Thither they should prepare to withdraw.

The Grand Master considered and replied that he understood

their reasoning, but he could not agree to it. Until now the

Maltese and the hired soldiery had stood up well; it would dis

hearten them if they discovered that the Knights, their leaders,

were making a move to retreat. A soldier will not stand where

his captain withdraws. So and De La Valette ordered it they

should move everyone out of the refuge of St. Angelo into the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

breaches, except those who must remain to serve the heavy

cannon.

Until the end of August the Turks pressed attacks against the

breaches. With half his own command casualties or sick in their

tents, Mustafa Pasha knew that the strain on the remnant of

armored men in the ruins must be unendurable. "Mustafa, the

Turks' General/' Richard Knolles relates, "now thinking no man

so strong who might not with continual labor and watching be

wearied and overcome, resolved not to give unto the besieged

any time of rest, but commanded his soldiers again to assault

the breach at the Castle of Saint Michael/'

In those few days the fanatical fury of the attackers failed as

at St. Elmo to break the spirit of the defense. For the first time

in generations the Turkish asker had met a superior fighting

force in these men who would not give up an inch of ground

until they were killed.

Mustafa Pasha remembered St. Elmo and stopped the wast

age of life at the single breach to prepare for a final assault at all

points. If that could be launched, some opening would be found

unguarded by the mailed Knights. He set a day for it, the

seventh of September.

On the fifth of September he heard that the Christian fleet

from Sicily had arrived off the north shore. The relief army was

landing in his rear.

The Serasker abandoned his works, burning his siege engines

and camp. He got his cannon away, except for twenty-four

heavy siege pieces. While the Knights displayed their banners

on the tower of St. Angelo, the Turks set fire to the forty ships

they could no longer man with crews, and put out to sea.

They did not leave Malta without a desperate attempt at final

victory. Out of sight of the city they turned back to the eastern

shore. There the Serasker disembarked 7000 men still capable

of fighting, and led them against the relief column making its

way toward the city.

The attack failed against the greater strength of the 10,000 in

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the army from Sicily. The Turks were driven back to their gal

leys, losing heavily as they fought their way to their decks and

clear of the coast. This time they headed out to Gozo and the

east.

Garcia de Toledo, Viceroy of Spain, brought his armada of

70 gaUeys in toward the scarred harbor of Malta. He displayed

his banners. All the remaining guns of Malta fired a salute to the

fleet that had ended the siege. Don Garcia answered with a

double discharge of all his cannon-and sailed away from the

embattled port! A message arrived from him, that he was going

back for reinforcements.

His fleet of Sicily did not pursue the crippled Turks. De La

Valette sat down to write his report of the action at Malta on

behalf of what he still chose to call the Christian Common

wealth.

Mustafa, the Serasker, hove to when he sighted Serai Point

He was not willing to come in to his moorings by the light of

day. Waiting until dark, he brought the survivors of the Malta

expedition into the harbor of the Golden Horn when they could

not be seen from the city streets. Without parade, they dis

persed to their barracks and homes.

The loss of Dragut and the military defeat troubled the Serai

and the folk of Constantinople sorely. At Malta something un

expected had taken place. Not only had the sickening Sultan

demanded its capture. The expedition had been stronger than

any other sent out by sea. Yet a small and isolated Christian

garrison had prevailed over Turks who had shown no lack of

courage. No one could point a finger and say this caused it, or

it happened by that man's incompetence.

No, the disaster at Malta had been written in the book of

Fate. Dragut died, because that had been the place and the

hour appointed for him. Surely God had willed for them to

fail at Malta.

That sense of fatality troubled the Turks deeply, from Ibn

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Sa'ud to the boy gardeners. The hammering on the hulls of new

vessels in the Arsenal runways across the water did not have

the same assurance as before. No new expedition was ordered

into the western sea, beyond Malta. Such an expedition would

never be sent out again.

Much of the moodiness, especially in the Serai, arose from

the restrained anger of Suleiman. After hearing the report of

the return of the fleet, the grieving Sultan would not speak of

Malta.

Those who sat in the Divan noticed what pains he took to

avoid doing so. Mustafa Pasha, who shouldered the burden of

blame, came and took his appointed place again in the half

circle of the council, as duty required. When Suleiman himself

sat with them, he spoke only to Sokolli, now the First Vizir, and

to Pertau Pasha, the next in rank. He did not want to speak to

Mustafa Pasha, because that would necessitate mention of

Malta. So, not to shame the commander, Suleiman refrained

from addressing the others seated near him.

All of them, from the sitters in the Divan to the janizaris at

the outer gate, wondered what action the Sultan would take

in his pain and anger.

No one expected him to do what he did. When the snows

melted and the feast of the New Year was at hand-the time of

salutations and gifts to the Osmanli Sultan Suleiman ordered

the great drum of conquest to be sounded. He said he had not

gone forth at the last setting-out of the asker (he did not say,

to Malta). This time he would take command and go with

them. The result would be good.

They understood that he wanted to compensate for the fail

ure at Malta. But they did not see how, in his sickness, he could

go on a march.

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Change of the Leaders

Odd preparations were made for the march. Suleiman seldom

broke his habitual silence now, and never to give explanation

of what he meant to do. His eyes gleamed between heavy folds

of flesh, as if he judged and condemned those nearest him.

In the small chamber of the Divan they pondered what he

had ordered last. The treaty of trade with Florence, giving that

free city the same rights as Venice Ragusa and France to have

the silks made in Brusa, for the European markets. His old idea

of giving Turkish commerce into European hands impelled him

still. Peace treaties with other powers, except the new Emperor,

Maximilian he granted them easily. Forbade Persian pilgrims

to journey to Mecca, for fear of disturbance

He did not send for his son Selim. His letters bade Selim give

up wine, "that red mad thing." Confident now, Selim did not

cease his debauches, and Suleiman ordered one of his cup com

panions executed. Then Selim returned to secret drinking.

In silence Suleiman judged his surviving son, finding no

worth in him, or his women. Selim must live. He was the only

survivor of the Osmanli line, yet he could not rule as the

Osmanlis had done. When Murad, Selim's son, insolently asked

for a galley to take him home to his father, the Sultan gave him

a small ketch instead.

Then he sent for Selim's two daughters, and married them to

two men on whom he could depend, Sokolli, and Piali, the

Kaputan Pasha. To the tall impassive Croat he gave authority

that he had not yielded for thirty years, not since the death of

Ibrahim. To Sokollfs rank of First Vizir he added that of

Serasker. Being united to the blood of the Osmanlis, Sokolli now

held all power that Suleiman could give, except the name of

Sultan. If he chose to plot for that, he could win it. Yet he would

not This Croat of the mountains did not relish tides. Hard as a

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

granite summit., he found his joy in accomplishment rather than

honors. Long years ago in the School he had revealed that, and

Suleiman remembered. Neither of them spoke of loyalty.

Before setting out, propped against the pillows of his sleeping

place, Suleiman watched the other's face for some trace of inde

cision or pride, or curiosity as to the failing strength of his

master.

His gnarled hands clasped above his knees, Sokolli was think

ing out, and repeating details of the march to be made. The

mobilization of the Army of Europe

"And of Asia," Suleiman whispered.

The Vizir's gray eyes turned to him. Not for years had the

whole muster been summoned. "Well," he said, and no more.

Carefully Suleiman drank water from a cup. "Ghirei, Khan of

the Krim Tatars," he whispered, "to accompany."

A glint of amusement touched Sokollf s bony face. "A parade

a festival, eh? You want that?"

"To have a good feeling, yes." Closing his eyes, Suleiman

thought about the march being festive, all the way. "Perhaps

even a poem to be read."

"Poets are always glad to read. I will only need to hint, for

them to do so."

"Baki."

"Well. Bald will read. The road will have to be made smooth

with sand for the Sultan's carriage."

After considering that, Suleiman shook his head. "My horses."

"A litter will-be made, then. Your horses will draw it."

Satisfied, Suleiman nodded. If the man before him had pro

tested or tried to persuade him not to undertake the pain and

responsibility of the march, he would have been troubled. Now

he could go in his litter without misgivings. Leaning forward

to replace the gold drinking cup, he felt Sokollf s hand touch

his, to take the cup. Suleiman set it down, unaided. Then of his

own accord he touched his companion's hand- "I will not go to

the Tatars' Meadow," he said forcibly. "I will not go to Adri-

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anople, or even the Danube's bank. I will go all the way, I will

be with you in the Land of War. You are not yet the Bearer of

the Burden."

He could see well enough from the slits in the litter. The

horses could canter over level ground, where the tasseled caps

of his runners bobbed beside him ... the helmets of SokoUf s

guards had foxtails tossing, with leopard skins over their cloaks

. . . leaving his city for the thirteenth march out.

Past the burnt column of the Roman Caesars his litter sped.

The jolting hurt him but it would not do to walk at a funeral

pace where throngs of his people watched his passing. By the

gray walls of the old palace where Mihrmah no longer waited

alone in her room she lay in her new tomb by the Chamlija,

above the Sweet Waters of Asia . . . where he had stolen away

to hunt.

Now through the slit he could see the towers of the Sulei-

maniye, and the small dome of Roxelana's tomb beneath the

cypresses. It was a strange feeling, to be passing by. So many

times he had merely glanced curiously around, when he rode

out, to return again.

Past the cluster of the Seven Towers he sped. Within one he

had watched an inscription carved: The labors of Rustem stored

these treasures here. For whose gain? Turning his head, he

caught a glint of blue ... the lovely breast of Marmora be

yond the towers.

It was strange to be passing by in this manner, never to re

turn. Suleiman could not realize that all the others, Ibn Sa'ud,

Piali Pasha, and Sokolli, would return without him.

For he was taking them all, part of the way. To the meadow

where Baki would come before the pavilion and read rather

flamboyant praise of the Osmanli sultans, in the cool of the

afternoon, when the horses had been run off to graze and he had

had sherbet to drink. All the Divan would gather to listen, and

the aghas. ... He had left behind him only the underlings,

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

and Selim's court, with which he had no concern. The heads of

the Organization were here, traveling as if on holiday. With

each of them Suleiman managed to have a word about duties

to be shouldered in the future.

At Adrianople the Mufti and the Kaputan Pasha turned back,

to keep the city in order. He told them to watch well his grand

son Murad, who had been egged on by women of Selim's harem

to ask for a galley, to be his own.

Climbing into the cold gorges of the mountains, Suleiman

lay back to listen to the familiar beat of rain, waiting to see the

height of Belgrade against the gray of the Danube.

When they ferried him across the flooded river, they told him

that the camels with his pavilion had been lost, and he groped

beside him for the sheets of paper on which he had always made

his daily notes. Rain: the Sultans tent was lost in the -flood.

The words formed in his mind, and he did not write.

They found him another tent. On a clear evening he saw

again the lush, swamp-fed green of the field of Mohacs. By an

effort he was able to sit in the Divan pavilion when they

brought the son of Zapolya before him, John Sigismund, King

of Hungary, a man grown now. Standing rigid before him, John

Sigismund made complaint of attacks by his enemies from

Austria.

Suleiman assented, liking him. "Well. I will not have our

weapons laid aside until I have made firm your throne of

Hungary."

Sweat dripped from the broad face of the young Hungarian,

as he fought against terror, staring at the gray swollen mask

in which only the eyes of the all-powerful Sultan seemed to be

alive. Helplessly he muttered something in German. Beside

Suleiman, Sokolli's deep voice interpreted quietly, "Something

he wants, he does not say what."

This son of a Polish princess was afraid of him. For an instant

the rigid young face changed, with the smile of his own son

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Mustafa, whose dark eyes looked at his father without fear.

Suleiman spoke, fighting down the f aintness that came with the

searing pain in his head. "If he has need of anything make it

known, and it will be granted."

They took John Sigismund away, and Suleiman found the

arrogant dark face of an officer before him. "Arslan Khan,"

Sokollf s voice prompted, and Suleiman tried to remember. A

brave leader, the Lion Chieftain who spurred himself on with

opium and wine, who had disobeyed orders and suffered a

defeat. After Malta, there could be no other defeat. Still, only

a few hundreds of men and a village had been lost. Arslan Khan

smiled at him. "I know what my fate will be."

A spasm of rage shook Suleiman. With his hand he made a

peculiar sign, and Sokolli whispered to armed men behind the

dais. Two of them stepped forward, suddenly twisting a bow

string around the heavy neck of the officer.

Arslan Khan did not struggle until agony seized his body.

Between them, the executioners held him upright until the head

rolled back. Then at a sign from Suleiman, they carried the

body out.

The Anniversary at Sziget

At nightfall the boy who had come from the School to the

duty of caring for his bedchamber lighted the hanging lamps,

and a physician brought in a pungent drink to dull the pain that

kept him from sleeping. A reader knelt between two lamps

with the Koran outspread on its ivory-inlaid stand before his

knees. The voice of the reader began its cadenced call, drawing

his thoughts toward it, as swiftly running water draws the eyes

... he could still see well, and hear.

One evening Sokolli came, wearing his sword, brushing back

his scarlet cloak as he made the gesture of stretching his hand

toward Suleiman's feet. He had news, not important but affect-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

ing the Sultan. There had been a skirmish on the far left of the

inarching army, an unlucky affair, causing the death of a man

known to Suleiman, the First Squire of his household.

It had happened at Sziget, a citadel in the river lands, cap

tured and held by a daring Hapsburg commander, Nicholas

Zrinyi by name. It had been, in truth, no more than a skirmish.

Suleiman nodded, and considered it. After a moment he dis

missed the bearded reader and the silent page. "We will go to

Sziget," he told his commander.

In his turn, Sokolli weighed the order given him. Their line

of march had been to the north where a Hapsburg army, break

ing the peace, had harried the young John Sigismund. Far to

the north the Austrian army could be found at Erlau in the

Carpathians. Sokolli could think of no good reason to change

the line of march, which would be a difficult undertaking, with

the Tatar and Asiatic horsemen so far out on the wings. "Sziget

is a small place, water-circled, with a strong citadel, as the

Sultan knows. Why should we stoop to pick up a little thing

when we can grasp a great one?"

But this place was close to them. Suleiman thought he would

be able to see it.

"This Zrinyi has a name for courage," murmured the Serasker.

They had been brave also at Malta, a strong citadel sur

rounded by water. Suleiman cared little then, or at any time,

for the strategy of war. He was more struck by the coincidence

that Sziget resembled Malta. He would not fail, at Sziget. "To

morrow," he ordered, "I will go in my litter with the horses on

the road to the west to Sziget. See you to the other matters."

As if touched by cold steel, Sokolli lifted his head. Swiftly he

thought of a dozen reasons why tens of thousands of marching

men should not be turned aside toward a pile of masonry set

into water. As he opened his lips to object, Suleiman spoke, re

flectively.

"Mehmed Sokolli, I wish to go there/'

The tone more than the words silenced the Serasker. It was

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as if his master had said, Yes, my brother., I know it is neither

wise nor profitable and you can give me excellent arguments

against doing it, lout I do not want to hear them. For an instant

Sokolli wondered if the great Sultan were not really stupid, as

many people claimed. Certainly he seemed slow to act for his

own advantage

"I hear it/' he acknowledged, bending his head forward. "But

a boat will be better than the litter. The galleys are up from the

Karadeniz, and you can go almost all the way to Sziget by

water."

That he could say for certain, because his home had been

near the river, and the mountains to the west.

When he went out to give the necessary orders, the reader

came in, raising his voice in the tent. "Truly thou canst not

guide whom thou desirest to guide y but God guideth whom he

will . . ."

Lying back to rest after speaking, Suleiman felt the weight

of his failures pressing against his mind. For all of forty and six

years he had had to decide for his people, to do this or to leave

that undone . . . perhaps he had been foolish to have them

destroy the musical instruments, the guitars and especially the

flutes that had given him so much pleasure . . . because such

pleasure might not be the will of God. Could even Ibn Sa'ud be

certain of that?

The boat they gave him on the river Drave was a light yacht,

festive in its draping of cloth of gold, with a single gilt crescent.

Lying under the stern canopy, he could watch the road by the

river. Where the mountains came down on his left, the road was

close enough for him to see what people did on it.

Some bullocks dragged a heavy siege cannon more slowly

than the yacht moved, upstream. They told him this was the

Katzianer cannon, named for the Austrian general who had once

fled from his duty to take refuge among the Osmanli people.

Suleiman smiled, because they wanted to amuse him. He won-

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

dered for a moment what the years would have brought him

had there been no cannon or powder, or vessels to carry then

across the seas.

On a rock down from the road, a janizary perched with one

bare foot soaking in the cool water. Evidently he had hurt hi

foot and dropped out for a while to rest. The monk's sleeve oi

his cap hung down over his shoulder, while he devoted all hi<

attention to the flute between his pursed lips. The light wail oJ

the flute could be heard over the soft rush of water.

Sighting the gold drapery of the yacht, the soldier shaded his

eyes to stare at it. It seemed to please him because he returned

with vigor to his song on the flute, swinging his foot in the

water.

Suleiman watched until the little boat entered the shadow oi

the hills, and the brightness around him became opaque, as ii

veils had been let down from the sky.

When his litter approached the pavilion made ready for him

on the crest overlooking Sziget, the Agha of the Janizaris

stepped to the door and begged him to move forward a little to

look at what waited for them below.

From the slit in the side he could make out the sweep of a

pleasant valley with a road winding through it. The road passed

over water to the gray buildings of a town with red roofs and

above the roofs a soaring citadel of very strange appearance.

Scarlet cloths draped the summit of the citadel of Sziget. As

Suleiman watched, with horsemen crowding around him and

the wind stirring the white horsetails of his standard, the citadel

began to flash with light. Rays of sunlight shot back from it.

People around him said that the Christians had hoisted metal

plates, to shine like that in the sun. It looked gay and festive.

A roar burst from the citadel, ending with discharges of single

cannon, as smoke drifted up through the flashing rays.

"A salute, by God," grunted the Agha, beside Suleiman.

So Nicholas Zrinyi of Sziget had saluted the appearance of

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the Sultan who had condemned him and his town to destruc

tion. Suleiman wondered if the castle of Malta had draped itself

like that, or if banners had been displayed on the heights of the

Black Mountain. There was a stubborn core in such Christians,

a way of laughing at fate which he had never understood, al

though he had tried

Twenty-four days later the Serasker, Sokolli, entered the

sleeping compartment of the pavilion which Suleiman no longer

left. This happened to be, as the army well knew, Suleiman's

day of luck. On this day he had taken the surrender of Belgrade,

and had reined his horse in victory over the field of Mohacs, and

had entered Buda. The assault that day, through the town and

against the massive walls of the citadel, had been savage. It had

not ceased until darkness because the officers had wished to tell

the Sultan before sunset that this citadel of the Christians also

had fallen into his power. They had tried to accomplish that as

a gift to the seventy-two-year-old man.

On the bed the Sultan looked up, questioning.

Sokolli wasted no words. "Not yet," he said, showing his

empty hands. With the details of a terrible day pressing upon

his mind, he made no excuses or promises. "We will have to

drive a mine under a section of the walls/' Frowning^ he re

flected. "It will take four days, five perhaps seven."

While he waited for the Sultan's reply, he felt a stiffening of

his muscles, not in fear, but in anticipation of rebuke and differ

ent orders.

"Mehmed Sokolli," Suleiman said, "the number of days does

not matter."

When he left the tent, Sokolli remembered that for the first

time in their talks Suleiman had given him no order.

The mine had not been exploded by the fifth night. It was

quiet that night. The physician stretched out asleep, exhausted.

Beside the night lamp Sokolli sat, turning over a written mes

sage in his powerful fingers.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Beneath the lamp Sultan Suleiman Khan was dead. He,

Sokolli, was the Bearer of the Burden.

It would not be so difficult at first, he thought. For Suleiman

had insisted on this parade of a march. No one else but Sokolli

and the physician knew that he was dying. Here in the hills of

Hungary, his body could be tended in his tent as if it still lived

no one must discover his secret.

Then, when the mine was exploded and an end made of

Nicholas Zrinyi and Sziget, rewards could be given out in the

name of Suleiman.

After that the body could ride in the closed horse litter down

to Belgrade. It would take three weeks to reach Belgrade, and

three weeks for a courier to speed, killing horses on the way to

Kutahiya, to fetch Selim the Sot up to Belgrade. After that the

secret could be made known.

When he was certain of the count of the days, Sokolli got to

his feet. Glancing around the sleeping chamber, he put out the

flame in the lamp.

For a moment, in the darkness, Mehmed Sokolli felt some

thing like fear. The step he took from the bedside he would

take alone. In the darkness and silence he made himself realize

that the master he had known all his life could no longer re

lieve him of responsibility

Walking quickly to the entrance curtain, he said casually

to the outer guards that the Sultan was sleeping. He asked for a

courier to take a message to Selim the son of Suleiman.

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EDO or the Turkisn Tide

The Lawgiver

SELIM failed immediately in his first test. Probably he

proved to be weaker than even Mehmed Sokolli had an

ticipated. When he was ferried across from Asia to Constanti

nople the city had learned Sokolli's secret. Masses of janizaris

quartered around the Serai besieged him with their demand for

a donation. Frightened, he promised an immense payment, and

escaped up the road to Belgrade.

There, encountering the field army in mourning for its Sultan,

he took refuge in his tent and ordered Sokolli to lay the tumult

of demands. This the First Vizir did, and either because Selim

had had a thorough fright, or because he did not lack some

shrewd common sense, he retained the grim Croat as the min

ister of his empire all his life. He survived for only eight years

as did Ibn Sa'ud, and Sokolli ruled the Osmanli state for five

years more under his son, Murad III.

But the last of the great Osmanli sultans was dead. Selim

lacked the courage to attend his burial, beside the tomb of

Roxelana in the Suleimaniye. Although some brilliant men

reigned in the Serai thereafter and several proved able enough

in carrying on wars, the succession of driving personalities from

the first Osman and Ertoghrul, through Mehmed the Con

queror, had end'ed.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

This decline of the Osmanli sultans was abrupt as the fall of a

curtain, much more abrupt than the deterioration of the Span

ish Empire after Philip II. Yet something quite different en

dured for centuries. It was a nation of great inward strength

that survived the degeneration of rulers who often became no

more than puppets; this nation outlasted the Serene Republic

of Venice, the vast Spanish dominion, and imperial Austria, and

it continued to survive with remarkable steadfastness while

Poland was partitioned, and Portugal shrank into a segment of

the Spanish peninsula.

This spectacular decline of the Osmanlis after Suleiman, and

the consequent stubborn endurance of the Turks as a people,

has been one of the mysteries of history. Many explorers of the

mystery have laid the collapse to the faults of Suleiman; only

a few have decided that he was responsible for the strengthen

ing of the nation.

He had so little to say for himself. Secluding himself as he

did from visitors, speaking almost always through the mouths of

his vizirs, appearing to Europeans throughout his forty-six

years of rule as the directing mind of a much-dreaded and

highly mobile army, he achieved almost complete obscurity.

To that obscurity, prejudice was added, for centuries.

"The longer one studies him," Roger Merriman affirms, "the

greater he seems to be/'

His actions must help to solve the mystery, when measured

against their consequences after his death. For he was a simple

Turk, and his story, told only sketchily, as we have certainty of

so little of it, is that of the Turkish people in the day when they

influenced the destinies of three continents.

Even at his death there was disagreement as to the real Sulei

man. Europeans, of course, called him the Magnificent as he

had appeared to them. His people christened him Kanuni, the

Lawgiver. Our zealous chronicle, the Brief World Happenings,

duly noted his death in the year 1566 as that of the tyrant who

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

had been the flail of Christians. Shah Tahmasp said the two

stains on his reign were the murders of Ibrahim and Mustafa.

A half century after Suleiman, in Protestant England, good

Richard Knolles had this to say of his last days: "Mahomet

Pasha, after he had placed a Turkish governor in Sziget, called

back the dispersed forces, and retired toward Belgrade, carry

ing Solymans dead body all the way sitting upright in his horse

litter, giving it out that he was sick of the gout; which thing the

janizaris easily believed, knowing that he had been many years

so carried; yet still wishing his presence as always unto them

fortunate, although he were able to do nothing." (There is

irony in this last ride of the Sultan at the head of the army

which he had labored to discipline and suppress. ) ". . . he was

of stature tall, of feature slender, long necked, his color pale

and wan, his nose long and hooked, of nature ambitious and

bountiful, more faithful of his word and promise than were for

most part the Mahometan kings his progenitors, wanting noth

ing worthy of so great an empire but that wherein all happiness

is contained, faith in Christ Jesus."

The matter-of-fact Englishman is aware of something im

portant Suleiman in his estimation was worthy of so great an

empire. (In the preamble to his voluminous General Historic

of the Turkes he speaks of "the glorious empire of the Turkes,

the present terror of the world.") The Turks were unquestion

ably dangerous but they were also a great people, and the

notable Suleiman had been no isolated personality but one mov

ing in the Turkish tradition.

Bakf s lament for his king is eloquent with human grief. He

invokes the inevitable phrases of Martyr and Conqueror

( Ghazi) . Yet he reveals the sense of loss among the people.

Will not the king awake from sleep, when comes the light of

day?

Will not he move forth from his tent, bright as high heavens

display?

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Long have our eyes dwelt on the road, and yet no word is

come

From that far land. . . .

Beyond the grieving, there is an unexpected thought:

Across the face of earth thou hast hurled the right,

From east to west thine armored champions have borne it,

As sweeps a sword. . . .

This is the culmination of the elegy, and Baki does not use

the words "religious faith" or "conquest" here. Suleiman has

fought for an intangible thing, the right.

Was this intangible thing racial toleration (at a time when

minorities were being driven from Spain)? Was it the right of

individuals to be protected by law, regardless of religion (when

heretics were too often burned at the stake elsewhere) ? Was it

an actual utopia for human beings ( of which Thomas More had

written, when beggars in England were maimed or hung)?

Suleiman was not a dreamer. In every case, he worked up

ward from Turkish tradition; inventing nothing, he tried to

adapt that canon of old custom not to the requirements of the

age but to something more advanced. It was not that he had

modern concepts. He thought as a Turk, in his own day. The

intensive schooling for instance was traditional at least from

the Conqueror's time; what Suleiman did was to shift the

burden of government from the families of hereditary sultans to

the best of the School boys.

There was something quite modern in the democratic spirit

of his Turkey. Suleiman himself withdrew markedly from per

sonal contact with common folk Mehmed the Conqueror had

spoken face to face with whoever sought him. His impersonal

effort had been to protect the individual by economy and by

law. Truthfully, his people gave him the title (after his death)

of Lawgiver.

Of one of his efforts the evidence survives today. In a sense

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

Suleiman found a Turkey of encampments and left it one of

monasteries and religious schools. (And this at a time when the

late Renaissance in the west left an imprint of palatial buildings

for the nobility the gaunt Escorial, the palazzos of the Medicis

and D'Estes, the chateaux of the Valois, and the mansions of the

Tudors. ) The plain mosque centers Suleiman built for his fam

ily are among the landmarks of Istanbul today, with those of

his fellowship Barbarossa's small tomb by the Bosphorus

adorns a public playground, Piali Pasha's stands by the water

channel that he wished, to connect him with the water of the

outer seas. The Suleimaniye center is being rebuilt next door

to the grounds of the modern university on the crest of the hill.

Go to any town in Anatolia, and if you find a mosque of unusual

simplicity or a lovely fountain, the people will tell you it is

Sinan's work. So is it proved again in Turkey that "what has

been, will be."

The Accusers

The collapse of the sultans after Suleiman was so spectacular

that Turkish historians sought for reasons in the reign of the

Lawgiver. Three generations later Khoja Beg, a very honest

man, listed these contributions by Suleiman to the decline and

fall of the Osmanlis.

1. He withdrew from the Divan, making himself remote from

his counselors in the Asiatic manner.

2. He promoted Ibrahim and Rustem to the vizirate by

favor, and not by merit or seniority. And in Rustem's case he

named a relative by marriage, which was unlawful.

3. Because of Rustem and Roxelana, women began to in

trigue with the ministers of the empire, and in consequence the

chief eunuchs came into immense power.

4. The wealth allowed Ibrahim and Rustem was harmful,

particularly when stowed away in permanent Wakf (religious)

foundations.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

On all of these counts of Khoja Beg Suleiman was guilty. He

did break the Ayin in this manner, and the consequences were

bad. Suleiman risked departing from tradition to gain ends of

his own.

The celebrated grated window over the seats of the Divan is

still there, to be pointed out to visitors and to testify against

him. It is a deceptive exhibit, however, because while Suleiman

secluded himself from the public parliament, he got around

elsewhere to an amazing extent in watching details of govern

ment. During an outbreak of plague late in Rustem's life, Ogier

Busbecq naturally wanted to move his household from the city

for a while. He asked Rustem if he could not reside on one of

the islands where he might study the fish and birds of which he

was so fond. Agreeing that it could certainly be done, Rustem

explained that it must be with Suleiman's consent. If the Sultan,

riding through the streets, should miss seeing Busbecqs ser

vitors around, he might ask where they were, and be angered

because they had been moved without his knowledge. Busbecq

got to his island.

Suleiman experimented, apparently, with letting the govern

ment run itself without having him continually as visible head

and court of appeal as he tried to induce the army to function

without him.

In the case of the vizirs, he did more than break precedent

by selecting them himself. An apt judge of men, he had three

great ministers, Ibrahim, Rustem and Sokolli, whose authority

for forty-three years impelled the nation strongly forward. Here

he tried the immensely daring experiment of taking direction

from the hands of the Osmanli family and giving it to the most

talented ministers. It is clear that he risked everything to effect

this change-over in his last sickness; but he had started to do it

with Ibrahim in the first years.

Seemingly he distrusted his own ability and that of his suc

cessors to accomplish at the head of an empire, in the changing

world of the Renaissance, what the early Osmanlis had achieved

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

at the head of a moving military state. It is said so often that,

because Mustafa and Bayazid were killed, the accession of the

sottish Selim began the breakdown of the Osmanlis. It may be

that, dreading weakness in his sons, Suleiman turned on them

with inhuman cruelty at the first sign of disloyalty. Baki termed

him "immovable as Fate." And certainly Suleiman's ruthless

executions were mainly within his family (Ferhad Pasha and

Ibrahim having been brothers-in-law).

Such a precedent was not to be easily followed, lacking a

Suleiman and a Sokolli. Personal favorites began to be named

to the vizirate, and favorites' favorites to other profitable posts.

Yet the rigorous training of the Palace School went on un

changed, and brilliant vizirs like the Kuprulu family were to

restore health to the sickening Serai. In the test of history subse

quent vizirs proved to be better administrators than their im

perial masters.

After the death of Mehmed Sokolli in 1578, when the struggle

for power lay between the vizirate and the harem, there was an

unchanging force for stability in the Palace School. Very soon

the levy of the tribute children ceased, at least outwardly, and

Turks were allowed to enter the privileged School. Education

within its narrow walls did not fall behind the times until the

eighteenth century, and its tradition remained high until the

present century.

"The idea of an education which will develop the individual

to the full extent of his capacities is thoroughly modern." Thus

Professor Albert Lybyer, who has made a detailed study 1 of

the Organization. "In the reign of the great Suleiman no human

structure existed which rivalled this ... in power, simplicity

and rapidity of action, and respect at home and abroad."

x Titles of these modern authorities are given in the bibliography.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

When the Women Ruled

With Suleiman ended the force "immovable as Fate" that had

dedicated the family to the rule of the nation. At once Selim II

moved into the harem of the Serai with his household of one

hundred and fifty women of all degree. Slowly at first but in

exorably the Osmanli sultans began to pay the penalty of breed

ing from slave girls. The women, under lax restraint, fought at

first quietly, then savagely for privilege, wealth, and finally for

power.

It is commonly said that Roxelana started it. She set a

precedent. Roxelana's entrance into the guarded Serai proved

to be dangerous; in the crowded corridors and cubicles of the

Serai, the women found themselves within whispering distance

of the Divan; they lived and slept within yards of their black

guardians, who were crowded against the white outer guards.

The Treasury was next door to the Throne Room Within.

More than that convenient juxtaposition, however, was the

fatal fact that despotic power lay in the spoken word of the

Sultan, and accordingly within the reach of women who could

influence him. Suleiman himself had been influenced but not

led by one woman. Selim, pliable in and out of his cups, still

put great affairs in the safekeeping of Sokolli, who was beyond

reach of the harem. Yet, as his drunkenness increased, his First

Kadin, Nur Banu, gained authority within the harem. The

mother of Murad, she claimed the title of Sultan Valideh after

Sellings death. So for the first time a Queen Mother held court

within the Serai itself. Nur Banu was not disposed to yield her

primacy to the First Kadin of her son. Her Throne Room Within

was to remain a throne room.

Then, with the assassination of the aged Sokolli, the last

barrier to the ascendancy of the women was removed. The cen

tury that followed was called by the Turks the Kadirdar Sul-

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

iy the Reign of the Favored Women. Murad had favored a

remarkable Venetian, a girl of the noble Baffo family known

in the harem as Safiye, or the Light One. Blond or redhead,

captive of a Turkish sea captain, or secret agent planted in the

harem by the astute Venetians, Safiye fought for the interest of

Venice and, as Roxelana had done, for the succession of her own

son.

Since Murad was addicted to women, his mother Nur Banu

made efforts to find girls who would draw him away from the

dangerous Safiye. Murad abandoned himself readily enough to

such rivalry. He had the precedent of his father for confining

himself to the Serai and leaving outer affairs to the Divan. The

result in the Osmanli state was good enough. Prestige increased,

with Venice joining France in the privilege of the capitulations.

But during the procurement of numerous girls from the markets,

the power of the Captain of the Girls increased. Safiye, possibly

coached by the Venetians, actually had a hand in the move

ments of the armies and fleets. A Jewish jewel seller named

Chiarezza served as her go-between with the Magnifica

Comunita.

Under her ascendancy nineteen of Murad's sons by other

women were assassinated. Having made herself Sultan Valideh-

to-be, she held immense power, fleetingly.

When her son came to the throne as Mehmed III, Safiye

found resistance increasing against her. The Venetian Queen

Mother might be secluded and inviolate behind the harem

gates, yet outside those gates she was held to be a murderess.

At the grated window she could overhear the discussions in the

Divan; she could never venture beyond the bars.

At the height of the struggle between Safiye and the Organi

zation she turned procuress for her own son, trying to keep

Mehmed so obsessed with new girls that he would not take

thought for outside matters. Revolt along the northern frontier,

however, enabled the army commanders to take Mehmed

bodily out of the Serai to march into Hungary as Suleiman had

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

done so often the first time a sultan had done so in thirty years.

When this absence from the harem did not serve to change

his infatuation with the inmates of the harem, Safiye.was de

stroyed in the only possible way. She was strangled in her sleep

by eunuchs of other women. This assassination was to be the

first of many,

It all centered within the now congested Serai. A son of the

Sultan had become an omen of future power, to be kept care

fully within walls, subjected to the intrigues of women from the

age of puberty. The effect of this harem prisonment showed in

the next Sultan, who remained withindoors and under the influ

ence of Kadins and their followings. This in turn served to

enhance the powers of the Agha of the Janizaris (who, like a

praetorian guard, formed the armed force of the palace, at the

outer court). Seldom could individual women be certain of

their supremacy without the support of either the kislar '( cap

tain) or the agha. To this triangle would be added unexpectedly

a fourth factor, in the students across the third court.

So, in spite of the gossip that seeped out of the doorways-

one being known now as the Gate of the Shawls and another as

the Gate of the Funeral of the Women and the lurid tales em

broidered in Galata across the water, and thence repeated with

zest by voyagers, who sought to take back with them the juiciest

filth from the "Grand Seraglio" it was only occasionally that a

kadin could interfere with the outer government. Usually that

happened when, in older age, she struggled to retain her ascend

ancy over younger women.

It was the disastrous inbreeding of the harem that had sapped

the vitality of the Osmanlis. A grandson of Mehmed III was

unmistakably insane. Another, Osman, was killed by the jani-

zaris.

A primate of the harem, Kiusem by name, was then trying for

the ultimate influence once held by Safiye. Her son, Murad IV,

however, threw off the influence of the harem to join the armies

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in the field. Young as he was, sapped by drink and sickness, he

had the neurotic fears of Selim II. It is said that he died of terror

during an eclipse of the sun.

There may have been insanity in Murad and in his brother

Ibrahim. In any event their weakness under the ruthless schem

ing of their mother led to a Hamletesque drama of conflict

between all the forces now pent up in the Serai.

The young Murad, dying in his sleeping chamber, craved the

satisfaction of seeing the hated Ibrahim dead before him. The

two brothers were the last male survivors of the Osmanli ruling

family, and Murad had named one of his favorites, the Sword-

bearer Lord, to succeed him. He ordered the execution of

Ibrahim, who was then prisoned in a chamber near him (the

forerunner of the "Cage" in which the boys, brothers of the

Sultan-to-be, were to be too often immolated, to keep them

from active contact with the outer nation). If Murad's com

mand had been carried out it would have put an end to the

Osmanli line of sultans and destroyed the Ayin, making an in

evitable change in the destiny of the nation.

In this crisis, Murad's personal attendants were too terrified

to carry out the command, especially when they were threat

ened by Kiusem. They reported to the dying man that Ibrahim

had been strangled.

It is said that after Murad's death, Ibrahim was so terrified

in his prison by the calls of messengers at his door that he tried

to barricade himself in. Even when he was girdled with the

sword of Osman as Sultan, fear remained latent in him. His

dread of his mother and of the endemic conspiracy that sur

rounded him drove him to insane excesses. More than Ivan the

Terrible, who had died two generations before, he seemed to

create a world of fantasy close to him, indulging his own crav

ings and striking at anyone who interfered with him. His brief

reign of eight years marked the futile triumph of the harem

over the Organization.

S21

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Ibrahim put to death his strong Vizir, Kara Mustafa, whose

successor rather naturally took pains to allow the Sultan every

freedom in his fancies and perverted lusts. Kiusem in her own

interest did the same. The half-insane youth who had spent

years waiting for an executioner to come to his room with a

bowstring avenged himself Caligula-fashion on the other in

mates of his harem.

His strange fancies were all indulged his craving to be

saturated with perfumes, especially pungent ambergris, his

obsession with furs, particularly sables. (Which led to ransack

ing the empire for ambergris and furs. ) To stimulate his sexual

power he filled a room with mirrors, demanded girls from out

side untrained in harem tricks, rewarded any follower who con

ceived of a new stimulant or aphrodisiac. The tale is told that

once he had all the women within a room stripped and made

to cavort around him on hands and knees like a herd of mares,

himself the only stallion.

From perfumes he turned to adorning himself with jewels.

His demands for rarities emptied the Treasury, and the women

who had to submit to his perversion avenged themselves quite

humanly in emptying the outer women's bazaar of jewels and

gorgeous attire. Ibrahim had a notion to require the bazaar

merchants to keep their stalls open by night as well as by day.

Outside the Serai such mad fancies echoed only faintly.

Deftars of the Treasury remarked that never had the Serai

wasted so much money as now when the Treasury was empty.

Peasants in the streets saw the flash of emeralds in Ibrahim's

beard as an evil omen. For these few years, out from the

Funeral Gate bodies were carried steadily.

A diver, swimming deep beneath the surface off the small

water gate of the Serai, came up with a scream of fright. He

said he had sighted throngs of dead women standing on the

bottom by him. Swathed from head to foot, they swayed in the

strong current. (Inmates of the harem had been done away with

secretly; bound, they had been sewn into bags weighted at the

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

foot with stones; they had been dropped from a rowboat at

night, and the stones had held their feet to the bottom, while

their bodies pulled upward. )

The harem, serving itself by Ibrahim's mad moods, virtually

ruled the nation. Against this misrule popular resistance rose

steadily, until a deputation from branches of the army and the

colleges urged upon the Sultan Valideh, Kiusem, that Ibrahim

be deposed and sent back to his cage and his young son Mehmed

brought to the throne.

When Ibrahim resisted, the spahis entered the upheaval to

demand his death by dictate of the Mufti. So Ibrahim, an

Osmanli sultan, was strangled by order of the supreme judge.

The aged Kiusem, however, would not relinquish her power

to the new Sultan Valideh, Turkhan Sultan. She still had one

card to play, having won over the Agha of the Janizaris. It

seemed to be possible, if the janizaris took possession of the

Serai, to depose the boy Mehmed and proclaim his younger

brother as Sultan.

Meanwhile other forces added themselves to those closing in

upon Mehmed and the Divan. Students dismissed from the

Enclosed School met with a regiment of spahis likewise dis

missed from service, in the Hippodrome, to demand that the

murderers of Ibrahim be brought to justice.

Against the supremacy of personalities around the throne a

popular reaction was setting in, to restore legal justice and the

responsibility of the Sultan himself.

, Kiusem played her last card and lost. The grandmother had

as co-conspirators the swordbearer, most of the black eunuchs

and the janizaris, with their agha. The Sultan Valideh had the

support of the Vizir, the Kislar Agha, and the boys of the

School.

The ensuing struggle for control of the Serai came to a head

one night, when Kiusem persuaded the chief of the gardeners

to open the small gates of the inner courts to armed janizaris.

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

These had the forethought to seize the Vizir himself in his sleep

and carry him along as hostage. Their occupation of the Serai

seemed assured, when they were tricked by the Vizir, who got

away on the excuse that he would summon the Divan to enter

the hall and grant their demands. Having escaped from the jani-

zaris, he got in and locked the doors of the third court.

Although it was defended only by boys and servitors, the

inner court was held long enough for them to do away with

Kiusem. The aged grandmother could not be found in her

room. Dragged from a clothing chest, she passed through the

hands of her enemies, the heavy jewelry and rich robe torn

from her body. Strangled, her body was thrown out one of the

garden gates.

A grim punishment followed, with the execution of the lead

ing conspirators, and the removal of the School from its inner

court. Turkhan Sultan was wise enough to prefer safety to

power, and bowed to the popular resentment. The first of the

brilliant Kuprulus became Vizir, and the reign of the women

ended, a century after Roxelana had intercepted the messages

from Suleiman's son Mustafa, at Amasiya.

(This account of the deterioration of the harem has had to

rely upon the stories of resident foreigners who in turn relied

on the ceaseless flow of gossip from Serai Point across the water.

It is true for the most part, but the results of modern research

in Turkey are still to be applied to it. So long has the testimony

of foreigners been repeated that legend sometimes takes on

the aspect of fact, while fact appears as legend. In dealing with

Suleiman's time it was necessary to throw out the often-told

tales from the pages of western history that Ibrahim, the

First Vizir, was a eunuch, that women in the Sultan's family

were given away in marriage only to eunuchs so that they might

have no children, that Mihrmah and the inmates of her harem

demanded the capture of Malta because merchant vessels

loaded with clothing and rarities for them had been taken by

the galleys of Malta, that Selim ordered the capture of Cyprus

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because his favorite wines were imported from that island,

etc. To their concept of the Grand Turk, and the Terrible Turk,

foreigners added very quickly the zestful concept of the Un

speakable Turk. Probably no other nation in history has been

viewed by outsiders with such prejudice for so long. Modern

scholarship has begun the task of revealing the Turks as they

were. )

The Impelling Forces

As for Suleiman himself, we can see more clearly his darker

nature, a strong man turning to cruelty; the lighter aspect of

the almost unknown man, striving toward something beyond

his time, we can hardly glimpse, except in the consequences

that followed him. What a vast library we possess of the other

great personalities to the west of Constantinoplefrom Henry

VIII to Catherine de' Medici!

Of Suleiman, Sir Charles Oman says: "He fixed the form of

the Turkish empire. Its long survival after his death was in a

great measure the result of his work, which it took many gen

erations of decadent heirs to undo."

Monsieur de Thevenot a century later (coming from the

France of Mazarin) bears witness to the strong agricultural

base of the country, the well-being of the peasantry, the abun

dance of staple f oods-and to the pre-eminence of the Organi

zation in government. "All the affairs of the empire rest upon

[the Vizir's] shoulders; he discharges the office of the Grand

Signior [Mehmed IV, still a youth, seven years after Ibrahim's

execution] and only wants the tide. This is a very heavy

charge/*

In foreign affairs Suleiman's policy of fast friendship with

France, and accord with the equally enlightened Poland, was

continued by Sokolli and subsequent vizirs. Later on it became

the mainstay of Turkish policy. By then, however, the evils of

the capitulations were manifesting themselves.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

His internal policy of tolerance toward the millets and their

varied religions broke down rather quickly. Rapacity began

to replace tolerance. Patriarchs of the Christian churches,

called upon to pay more to their Turkish superiors, drained

more money from their own congregations. Their position be

came anomalous, even intolerable. With ostensible freedom,

they were bound to serve almost as tax collectors for the Turks.

As early as Suleiman's grandson Murad the Catholic churches

in Constantinople were seized and converted into mosques.

At the same time Turkish missionary zeal deteriorated. This

may have been coincidence, or due to the growing internal

wealth of the nation the increasing properties of the vast

Wakf. The shrewd Busbecq noted at Amasiya that Suleiman

was "quite as anxious to extend his faith as to extend his em

pire." Among modern students, both Temperley and Lybyer

believe that the Turkish missionary expansion of Suleiman's

time was more dangerous than the military.

As to the staying power of the religious Law, modern opinion

is divided. Their intensity of faith impelled the Turks forward

for a long time. At some point not yet determined it acted as a

retrogressive force. Unchanging in a modern world of change,

it created a sense of fatalism, an aversion to new education that

made the Turks themselves nostalgic and slow to act the op

posite of the dynamic taskmasters of Suleiman's day. Sig

nificantly, the most drastic of Ataturk's reforms, four centuries

after Suleiman, was to abolish the Sheyk of Islam and to tear

down the fixation of old religious belief. In this last the great

modernist did not quite succeed.

The Destructive Forces

Lacking the iron control of a Suleiman or a Sokolli, the ac

cumulation of vendable wealth in the Serai took the rather

natural course of pouring out into the hands of grasping officials.

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Taxation increased, while fees were wrung from every possible

transaction (both Ibrahim and Rustem had paved the way for

this). By Knolles's time the imperial revenues had risen to

more than 8,000,000 ducats yearly; by Rycaut's time they were

11,000,000. During the century-long Reign of the Favored

Women fiefs were sold to the highest bidders, and the coinage

was debased, in European fashion.

The naval Arsenal became the spot most privileged in feather-

bedding, and unearned pay. Since the Kaputan Pasha drew

immense amounts from the Treasury for the building and out

fitting of fleets, his post enriched the holder. Seldom did the

fleets that were paid for actually put to sea. (Under the sea

conquerors, Barbarossa, Dragut and Piali, the fleets had paid

for themselves. ) After the chaos of 1640 the galley captains on

the pay roll numbered 460, of whom not more than 150 ever

rounded Serai Point

Of late, crews were formed out of the disciplined janizaris,

who began to conceive a great dislike for service at sea.

"They man their ships very well with soldiers," Thevenot

relates, "and even janizaris; but these blades, who know not

what it is to give ground on shore, never go to sea but against

their wills; and if they can get off for money, they are sure not

to go. All that go for a season .to sea are called Safarlis, that is

makers of a voyage. Three days before the fleet puts out they

go along the streets with a hatchet in hand, demanding aspers

from all Christians and Jews whom they meet, and sometimes

of Turks, too/'

Rycaut soon discovered the venality of the Arsenal during

the time of troubles. "Through the expense of the naval force,

the building gallies and the like matters not provided for by

those who laid the first foundation of this Government the

revenue of the Empire hath been bankrupted, and by the cor

ruption of the Officers, or ill management been sold [Le.,

farmed out] for three years to come, until all was redeemed and

restored again by the wisdom of the famous Vizir Kuprivli"

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

The worthy English consul touches unconsciously on an

other drainage of wealth, when he adds that his own country

men "ought to consider it a blessing that we ... have tasted of

the good and benefit from a free and open trade and friendship

with this people . . . begun in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth of

blessed memory . . . which, having been improved by the excel

lent direction of that Right Worshipful Company of the Levant

Merchants, hath brought a most considerable benefit to this

Kingdom and gives livelihood to many thousands in England,

by which also His Majesty without any expense gains a very

considerable increase of his Customs."

The capitulations to foreigners, first the merchants, then the

governments, had begun.

There is a popular and apparently impregnable belief that

the Osmanli Turks in their day of power amused themselves

with the women of all the nearer east, that they became the

proprietors of oversize harems populated by dancing girls and

odalesques and so deteriorated. This is one of the latter-day

legends, at least in Suleiman's time, that appealed so irresistibly

to the western imagination.

The reigning sultans did interbreed after a fashion, and the

consequences are very easy to observe. Suleiman was an ex

ception. But it is important to realize that the Turkish nation

did not follow the example of its sultans. There was little inter

marriage from aghas and timariots down to the peasantry. The

other, inner peoples kept pretty much to themselves.

The detested slave trade was in the main a business matter-

taking profits from captives. The more affluent Osmanlis-few

at this time held slaves only in their households, and under

Moslem religious Law the relation of a family slave to the mas

ter was different than in Europe proper.

In Suleiman's time the jovial Ayas Pasha had a large harem,

and Barbarossa appears to have acquired a wife in every port.

But heads of the Organization such as Ibrahim, Rustem, Sokolli,

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

Piali and the others, after taking a bride from the Serai, were

obliged to remain monogamous.

If a balance could be struck, the Organization, from Sulei

man down, would be found less bound to, and influenced by,

marriage and interbreeding than the European courts of the

time. (The Hapsburgs were noted for their manipulation of

marriages. Philip wed himself in turn to women of Portugal,

England, France and Austria. If the mantle of a Bluebeard is to

be bestowed, it must go to the sturdy shoulders of Henry

Tudor.)

The Legend of the Warrior

As a military leader, Suleiman remains a remarkable para

dox. Tradition required him to play the part of commander of

an invincible army engaged in conquest of the Lands of War.

What he did about that is revealed in the intimate story of his

life.

During his life and after him the great Turkish feudal levies

deteriorated as a fighting force. Whether this happened because

of Suleiman or simply after him, we cannot say.

On the opposite side of the picture, he strengthened numer

ically the standing army of the Sultan, the janizaris and spahis.

At his death 48,316 soldiers were under Organization pay, and

that pay, accordingly, had doubled since he girded on the sword

of Osman.

Suleiman may have changed the character of the monkish,

poverty-ridden janizaris. He eased the restrictions on the corps

by allowing some of them to marry, and allowing some native

Turks to enter the corps. Probably the elite fighting force would

have deteriorated with time, in any case.

As to his personal leadership, paradoxically, his greatest

achievement lies in what he would not do. From Rhodes until

Malta, for the space of forty-four years he allowed the asker to

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

undertake no punishing campaign or siege. At the same time he

kept it from being a drain upon the agricultural nation.

Very soon after him, his son Selim II ordered the Don- Volga

canal building project in the steppes, which Suleiman had re

fused to undertake. Although a Turkish fleet came up the Don

with supplies to aid it, the expedition fared badly in the dry

steppes, being tricked and misled by the Crimea Tatars.

Murad, his grandson, entered upon the great war with Persia,

which Suleiman had tried to avoid. It lasted for twelve years-

becoming known as "the long war" and accomplishing nothing

tangible except to exhaust both Moslem empires in the face of

the advancing Russians.

As late as 1683 an ambitious Vizir, Kara Mustafa, attempted

the final siege of Vienna, from which Suleiman had withdrawn.

The disaster that followed marked the decline of Osmanli mili

tary power, in the face of the improved weapons, fighting

spirit, and skill at fortification of the Europeans. The man who

led the army of relief to Vienna was Jan .Sobiesky, a Pole.

Suleiman had been careful to preserve amity with the Poles.

In the matter of prestige, Suleiman made no compromise.

The prestige of the Osmanli arms remained high, until after the

real siege of Vienna.

In actual command, Suleiman accomplished two remarkable

feats. Twice he led the army on long retreats out of hostile

mountain regions at the coming of winter. He brought it safely

down from Vienna to Constantinople, and from Tabriz to

Baghdad. Napoleon at Moscow had found such an operation

too difficult at least he left his army during the retreat.

The Turkish army itself offers another paradox. Led by a

despot, it was, otherwise, democratic in the modern sense. Most

of the officers were graduates of the Organization. No barrier

of caste existed within it. A troop commander might change

places with a general in the course of a battle.

As the officers, including the Sultan, lived with the troops,

so they were also found at the front of the battle lines. Sulei-

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man himself came under fire at Rhodes, Mohacs and Vienna.

Casualties among the commanders ran very high. Old custom

required them to share dangers as well as rewards with the men.

In consequence there was a bond of fraternity between men

and leaders not found in other armies of the time. Elsewhere

in Europe, command derived from noble rank, or favor, as a

rule. Leaders seldom saw their armies, and if present at the

start of a battle were too often absent at the end, Charles, at

Algiers, was an exception, as were the commanders of the

Knights.

One legend about Suleiman has refused to die until these

last few years. It is that he tried to conquer middle Europe, and

failed. ,

A conscientious historian, Roger Merrimaji, says flatly ( 1944)

that Vienna decided the destiny of modern Europe. "The siege

of Vienna appeals strongly to the imagination. Never since the

battle of Tours, almost precisely eight centuries before, had

Christian Europe been so diref ully threatened by Mohammedan

Asia and Africa. Had the verdict in either case been reversed,

the whole history of the world might have been changed."

It does appeal to the imagination. But Suleiman's objective

in 1529 was Buda, at the river end of the great Hungarian plain.

There exists no evidence in Turkish sources that he ever planned

the occupation of Vienna, "and his own statements which need

to be taken seriously in Suleiman's case say emphatically that

he did not.

"This was certainly the most perilous moment for Europe,"

Sir Charles Oman repeats ( 1937 ) , "in all the long strife between

the House of Hapsburg and the Ottomans. If Vienna had fallen,

the Sultan had intended to make it his winter quarters and base

of .operations for a continued assault on Germany."

But Suleiman did not put a garrison of janizaris into Buda

for years after 1529; his troops never occupied the great Hun

garian plain, the boulevard to that same "Germany." How the

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Turkish horsemen, operating only in the summer months, could

have held the German mountain region, snowbound in winter,

is hard to imagine.

The legend has simply grown with time that the victorious

Sultan of the east led his horsemen into Europe to wrest it from

the mighty Emperor of the west. Since such a decisive battle

failed to take place, legend has substituted Vienna for the miss

ing battle. In consequence Charles V soon appeared in legend

as the triumphant defender of Vienna (to which he sent only

the 700 Spanish caballeros) while Suleiman now appears to be

the Asiatic conqueror who was turned back at Vienna.

It makes a good story, easily retold, and the pity is, it is not

true.

The Legend of the Pirates, and Lepanto

Somebody long ago began to call the Turkish sea captains

pirates and corsairs of the Barbary Coast. It was not in their

time, because the words were not in use then, and you will not

find them so miscalled even in the massive pages of Richard

Knolles.

They were not pirates, nor corsairs of the Barbary Coast, nor

Algerine sea lords, nor did they sail from pirates' nests. Yet you

will find all these terms in modern histories of the west. You

may read, in addition, that Turkish sea power ended with

Barbarossa, or at the battle of Lepanto, either one. Neither is

true.

Whatever Khair ad-Din Barbarossa's ethics may have been

and he would have made a magnificent pirate he sailed with

only one flag, the Turkish, displayed beside his own ensign; he

held admiral's rank, drew his pay from the Turkish Treasury,

built his ships at the Arsenal, carried out a plan of operations

by one nation against half a dozen enemy principalities or

powers.

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His great adversary, Andrea Doria, is usually described as

the admiral of the Empire. Although Doria changed his flags as

he changed his allegiance, had thirteen vessels of his own in

the Genoese/French/Imperial fleets, and claimed a percentage

of the spoil (as did Barbarossa) . Which was the pirate?

These men commanded great fleets that shaped the destiny

of nations. The celebrated Spanish armada of 1588 appears on

the historical record as the attempt of one nation to invade

another, England. Yet its strength of 132 ships, 21,621 troops

and 8066 sailors was about the same as the armada of Charles

that met disaster at "the pirate's nest" of Algiers, and less than

that of Doria at Prevesa, or of either fleet at Lepanto.

As to the equally celebrated battle of Lepanto, the truth is

this.

The sea duel begun by Suleiman with Charles continued long

after their deaths. After 1568 Philip II, in his endeavor to ex

pand Spain into a western empire, began the extermination of

the rebellious Moriscos (converted Moslems) in the Granada

region.

In retaliation, or because he desired a conquest of his own,

Selim II sent the Turkish fleets to capture Cyprus. Selim the

Sot under no circumstances would appear at the head of the

army, but he could safely send the fleet on a mission to sea

without him. Piali had urged the capture of this last Venetian

island isolated beneath the southern bulge of Anatolia although

Mehmed Sokolli took a dim view of the project.

Selim craftily imitated his father in putting the question to

Ibn Sa'ud: "When a Moslem country has been conquered by

infidels, is it not the duty of a pious prince to recover it for

Islam?"

There being only one answer to such a question, the Turkish

invasion fleet put to sea in great strength during the early sum

mer of 1570. Lala Mustafa, the former tutor and conniver at the

death of Bayazid, commanded it.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

(By then young Francis Drake, the disciple in seafaring of

John Hawkins, held a commission as privateer from his Queen,

and was starting for the Spanish main in a ship named Pasha.

Presently he would add to Philip's worries by duplicating Dra-

gut's raid upon Cadiz; not yet had an English ambassador re

quested the aid of the Turks against the "idolaters" of Spain. )

The citadel of Cyprus, Famagusta, was defended by its

descendants of crusaders, Italian mercenaries, and Greeks

against the artillery and mines of Lala Mustafa for eleven

months, that is, until August 1571. Then it surrendered upon

terms like those once granted by Suleiman to Rhodes free pas

sage of the garrison to Crete, and guaranty of the lives and

rights of the island's inhabitants. But Lala Mustafa was no

Suleiman. The garrison, duly embarked on ships, were seized

as captives, the commanding officers ruthlessly put to death.

After the invasion of Cyprus a young painter, El Greco, fled

from the island to Spain, there to begin the masterpieces that

have made his name immortal.

Meanwhile the Serene Republic, which had enjoyed a long

and prosperous peace with the Turks since Prevesa, besought

the European courts to proclaim a new crusade against the

Osmanlis, when its valuable island was endangered. Few re

sponded, and the Venetian fleets prudently kept their distance

from the Turkish galleys commanded by Uluj Ali, a former lieu

tenant of Dragut ("OchiakT to the Europeans ) . It did not seem

to the Emperor, Maximilian, that the Venetians appeared very

convincing in their new role of crusaders.

In any event, aid to Cyprus was delayed until this last strong

hold of the crusades was lost, and the Moorish race in Spain

ended. Released from this internal war, the forces of Spain,

under Philip's half brother Don Juan of Austria bastard son of

Charles added themselves to the armada gathering in the

Adriatic. Some 227 vessels of all types, with 20,000 soldiers,

many being arquebusiers of the new model, lay off Corfu with

no mission to perform, Cyprus having been lost

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

There was much argument among the commanders of this

new holy alliance; but Don Juan, a twenty-six-year-old with a

penchant for accomplishing tasks, insisted that their armada

go to find the Turkish fleet, which was very near in the Gulf of

Corinth.

So happened the sea battle of Lepanto, which remains de

picted on the walls of the Vatican and the Ducal Palace in

Venice.

The triumph, at the moment, was genuine, the defeat of the

Turks decisive. They lost almost all their galleys. Experts say

that the vast mass of vessels crowded together in the narrow

entrance of the gulf, off the town of Lepanto, failed to ma

neuver, and the advantage lay with the larger galleys, the

heavier armor and better firearms of the Europeans. Many com

manders of the Organization failed to survive the battle. But

the left wing of the Turkish array, under Uluj Ali, not only es

caped intact but carried away as trophies a captured Venetian

galley and the battle flag of die Grand Master of Malta.

At Lepanto Miguel de Cervantes received the wound that

maimed him. His adventures while a captive of the Turks in

Africa for five years, after that, must have shaped many of the

pages of the matchless Don Quixote.

With Lepanto won and Cyprus still lost, the battered armada

of Don Juan was repaired during the winter, and the question

remained, what was it to do, now that the dreaded Turkish fleet

no longer existed to oppose it?

The Venetians failed to agree with Philip, who carried on all

negotiations by letter from a distance. There was the project

of recapturing the African coast or a part of it, and the project

of recapturing the Venetian islands, or some of them.

Into such argumentation came unbelievable news, in the

spring. The Turkish fleet that had been sunk, beached or sur

rendered at Lepanto was putting to sea again, out of the Dar

danelles. It was heading for the Europeans, to fight the battle

over again.

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Seldom has a council of war had to deal with such a shock

ing surprise.

What happened was this. Uluj Ali had brought back 47 gal

leys, all told. Piali Pasha, now too old to take to sea, had

combed the inland waters for serviceable craft. Above all,

Mehmed Sokolli laid down the command that 180 new galleys

must be built, launched and equipped between October and

April.

Somehow the Golden Horn, by laboring night and day, car

ried out the order. With janizaris, spahis and timariots drafted

to row and fight it, the new fleet sailed, with Uluj Ali as Kapu-

tan Pasha. He had 160 sails following.

This fleet was ill found, the soldiery far from able seamen.

It was, in fact, the very sort of armada that Barbarossa had

dreaded. But it made a fine appearance, and it kept on its

course.

What happened then you will not find immortalized in paint

on the walls of Italian palaces.

Summer came and the resurrected Turkish fleet held the sea.

The new Venetian commander who had replaced the one that

had quarreled with Don Juan about projects waited for the

Spanish fleet, which did not appear. The Turks seemed to be

too strong for him to face alone.

When Don Juan of Austria returned with long-delayed

orders from Philip, and the European fleet counted some 200

sails, Uluj Ali could no longer be found. He had slipped past the

European scouts into the fortified harbor of Modon, south of

Lepanto. With his leaky and unhandy ships in port, he called

in an army to aid him.

This left Don Juan in a dilemma. He could not undertake

a mission at sea leaving the Osmanli battle fleet behind him;

nor did even he dare to try to rush the fortified port. It was

Prevesa, over again. The Spanish troops landed, under Ales-

sandro Farnese of Parma (who was to become famous as a gen

eral in the west), to endeavor to get at Uluj Ali. The Turkish

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

army held off Parma, and when winter came Don Juan in

exasperation sailed back to Sicily, the Venetians retreating to

their Adriatic.

Then Uluj Ali led his ghost o a fleet, with sick crews, back

to the Dardanelles, to refit and make all shipshape for the next

sailing season. Probably there was no more thankful man in

the Mediterranean than he.

The Barbary Coast

Certainly no bluff in the record of history paid off better than

Uluj All's. He could not have won another Lepanto. For those

two years the Europeans actually held supremacy at sea, but

did not manage to accomplish anything. The memory of Bar-

barossa and the specter of the fleet that might be as formidable

as ever haunted their councils. As one observing historian puts

it: "Lepanto marked the decadence of Spain as well as that of

the Turks."

The Spaniards wanted to end the Turkish occupation of the

African coast; the Venetians refused to agree to that because

the Spaniards would not recover Cyprus for them. When Uluj

Ali appeared again with a fleet that was at least maneuverable,

the Venetians deserted the grand alliance and besought the

Serai for new terms of peace. Sokolli gave them little encourage

ment. His spokesmen laughed seeing the humor of the situa

tiontelling the ambassador of the Signory, "To lose Cyprus is

to you like losing an arm; you cannot get it back. To lose Le

panto, for us, is like shaving off a beard which grows back

again."

The Venetians feared for Crete, and accepted the same terms

as after Prevesa they paid the cost of the war and gave up

more territory.

The Spanish half of the grand alliance fared little better.

Don Juan with a sizable armada captured the fortifications and

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

harbor of Tunis the African anchor of the Malta-Sicily land

bridge to Europe. But Philip, fearing ambition in his young half

brother, would send neither supplies nor replacements to Tunis,

The following year, 1574, Uluj Ali and Sinan Pasha recaptured

the place, sending the usual quota of Spanish commanders to

Serai Point in chains.

Philip, occupied now with the Dutch Beggars of the Sea and

the Protestant "pirates" of England, abandoned the African

coast to the Turks. It was like an arm that he could never get

back.

The Gibraltar area he held fast, of necessity thus bringing

Spanish influence and arms in contact with the Moroccan Riff.

East of Cape Matapan the Osmanli fleets sailed as before. In

the middle of the next century they carried out Sokolli's threat

to take Crete. The inhabitants of that island preferred Turkish

rule to Venetian. One of the greatest of the Vizirs, a Kuprulu

accomplished the occupation of Crete, renting Suda Bay there

after to the weakening Venetians.

For one hundred and twenty years after the first plan foi

naval action was formed between Suleiman and Barbarossa, the

Turkish fleets had kept the sea, carrying it out. Against them

the Europeans had only managed to send out massive expe

ditions which whether successful or not could not retain

Moslem territory for long.

Something was happening, however, to the Turkish ports in

the west. Now that the fleets from the Dardanelles no longer ap

peared there, they were abandoned (in 1659) as provincial

holdings, and the Turkish beylerbeys recalled. The heterogene

ous reis of the coastal shipping remained. In their comfortable

quarters down at the ports, these independent seafarers formed

a bizarre maritime aristocracy. Waited upon by slaves, sur

rounded by luxuries, the reis of Algiers, Bujeya and Tunis lived

as their fancy dictated, without masters to enforce discipline.

The tie between them and Serai Point weakened slowly but

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steadily. In Algiers particularly, thriving with commerce and

the new occupation of piracy, guarded now by the great Fort

of Victory raised where Charles had pitched his tent, the

brotherhood of the Algerines was reinforced by outcasts and ad

venturers from the northern shores Sicilians, Genoese and

Neapolitans at first, then Spaniards and even an Englishman

or two. These were to become the well-known renegades of

the Barbary Coast.

Meanwhile the powerful, broadside-gunned oceangoing man-

of-war had been developed, with the first swift two-decked

frigates. When such dreadnoughts of the sea, whether English,

French or Dutch, cruised the Mediterranean, the African reis

could not challenge their strength. In return the Algerines de

veloped their own peculiar corsair craft, swift feluccas able to

outsail and close with merchantmen and small vessels. By the

1700s the Moslem battle fleets had almost vanished from Al

giers, Tunis and Tripoli, and the swarm of pirate craft had ap

peared. They were to stay there for some time until the com

ing of the first American battle fleet but they had nothing to

do with the Osmanli Turks except to render lip service to later

decadent sultans.

About the time of the change-over of the western African

coast, the Turkish navy almost disappeared from the eastern

half of the Mediterranean. No vessels were built that could

stand against the new European ships and cannon. The Turks

themselves had a saying that the sea captains had gone into the

(women's) workbaskets.

Paul Rycaut was witness to that "The Turks now despairing

of being equal to the Christian forces by sea, and to be able to

stand lie shock of battle with them, build light vessels for

robbing, burning and destroying the Christian coast, and after

wards to secure themselves by flight. Also they serve to trans

port soldiers, ammunition and provisions for succor of Candia

[Crete] and other new conquests ... the Turks unwillingly

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SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

apply their minds to maritime affairs, saying, God hath given

the sea to the Christians but the land to them!'

The spirit of fatalism and the lust for profiteering had settled

upon the Golden Horn.

Suleiman and Ivan the Terrible

Something very different was happening to the east of Serai

Point.

Suleiman had made himself pretty effectively what his title

claimed, Lord of the Two Seas. That on the east was the

Karadeniz, the Black Sea, and it had long been a Turkish lake.

Suleiman's authority had stretched forth where the steppes

began from the mouth of the Danube around the arc of the

northern shore with its natural citadel of the Crimea to the

great barrier of the Causasus above the clouds.

The river Danube, the peninsula of Crimea and the Caucasus

Mountains were all to play very important parts in what fol

lowed. That was the endeavor of the Muscovites to take the

Black Sea from the Turks.

Suleiman had ridden into the steppes the province of Yedi-

san, he called it with a light rein. These steppes above the

Black Sea lay before him fertile and masterless the "wild

lands," the Muscovites named them. At the same time the

Muscovite Tsar, Ivan the Terrible in Suleiman's case, was ad

vancing from his stronghold of the Kremlin and his metropolis

of Moscow into these same southern steppes.

The Sultan had set bounds to his dominion; behind these

boundaries he had formulated laws for the indwelling peoples.

Turkish schooling had outdistanced the Muscovite. The Tsar

was emerging from the limits of his medieval city-state to sub

ordinate the outer peoples and to create the empire of All the

Russias.

Between Suleiman's position and Ivan's there were certain

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EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

similarities and certain differences. Both were oriental despots,

leaders of only a nucleus of people the Osmanli Turks and the

great Russians that in turn had mastered many other peoples.

Ideologically both the Kaisar-i-Rum and the Tsar of a "third

Rome" had inherited the role of successor to the late Byzantine

emperors, and both had in them the blood of Byzantine prin

cesses. Both tried to educate their marginal people in western

ways. The people of both clung firmly to old customs.

As to the differences, Suleiman tried to depart from his tra

ditional role of military leader, while Ivan had been forced by

circumstances to act as a war leader, and to militarize his unwar-

like Slavs. Of the two, Ivan was more the Asiatic, his ancestors

having been under Tatar and eastern influence for two and a

half centuries.

As Suleiman held a light rein over the steppe dwellers, the

remnants of the once mighty Golden Horde, he had a still

lighter tie to the peoples of the eastern steppes the powerful

Nogai, Uzbeks, Kirghiz, and the Volga Tatars. These were all

remote kinsmen of the encampments of central Asia, speaking

Turkish, and professing Islam.

So on the dry steppes of Yedisan, Suleiman had ventured

back to the threshold of the ancient Turkish homelands of the

east, from which he had parted but to which he was still at

tached by sentiment, and religion.

Because Suleiman had this attachment, and this strength

upon the Black Sea littoral, Ivan and his Muscovite armies had

turned away to thrust at that other sea in the north, the Baltic.

The Baltic and the Black Sea outlets were to become the twin

objectives of Russian no longer purely Muscovite tsars, who

often hesitated between them.

Not without a wrench did Suleiman's successors give up hope

of redeeming Astrakhan (At-tarkhan), the old Turkish town

on die outlet of the mighty Volga to the Caspian Sea. This the

Russians took easily, and the Volga became the arterial of their

trade with the east.

841

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Nothing of the kind happened on the Black Sea. To this the

Osmanli Turks held stubbornly. It was part of their heritage;

its waters flowed past Serai Point. By holding to its water while

slowly relinquishing the northern steppe belt, they reversed

their policy of the Mediterranean, for reasons they never ex

plained. It was not pride alone, but something purely Turkish

that made them do it.

How they did it is one of the riddles of history.

The Turks Hold to the Black Sea

A century after Suleiman, his Yedisan had become the "Bor

der/' the Ukraine, populated by a kaleidoscope of peoples seek

ing the fertile black-earth steppe, by colonists from Moscow,

by "masterless men" fleeing from tsardom and serfdom, by ad

venturous Poles and even Germans, but chiefly by the rem

nants of Crimea Tatars, and Nogias, with the strengthening

free brotherhoods, or hosts, of the Cossacks. These last cen

tered upon three rivers, the Kuban beneath the heights of the

far Caucasus, the Don, and the Dnieper.

Russian peasants fled to the good earth of the wild lands to

escape the oppression of labor on the half-barren state lands

of the north. Grain and cattle raising transformed the grass

steppe.

Offshoots of the human welter upon the Ukraine escaped

into the refuge of earlier peoples, the Crimea, or the other

refuge of the Caucasus.

The aggressive Don Cossacks claimed that their river lands

made another sanctuary. They had a saying, "The Tsar rules

in Moscow, the Cossack on the Don." In the melting pot of the

Ukraine the Cossack frontiersmen had been half Tatarized, but

they held very firmly to their Orthodox religious faith, which

was that of Moscow, In the end this brought their allegiance

to Moscow.

342

EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

In their heyday the Cossack hosts put to sea in their caiques,

or long boats, to raid Turkish ports and defy the galleys of

Constantinople; joining with the Tatars and Ukrainian colonists,

they revolted against Russian military rule. The pattern of such

revolts of the frontiers against the expanding central power

was always the same a daring Cossack leader gathering the

folk along a river to attack the Russian frontier towns.

Khmielnitsky ascended the Dnieper, against Polish overlords,

while Stenka Razin ruled for a space along the Volga, "sailing

down to the blue sea, to the Caspian." The end, also, was the

same, when an army from Moscow broke through the ill-

disciplined Ukrainians, and purged the area of the revolt sav

agely. 2

Often refugees fled from the troops across the Dnieper to

Turkish Yedisan. Once the remnant of the Dnieper Cossacks

migrated thither in a mass.

Only slowly did the ever-increasing military force of Moscow

venture down across the barren steppe to within sight of the

Turkish sea. Moscow relied on the armed colonist to penetrate

first among the nomadic occupants of the plain. Once block

house settlements were built, die troops could advance to hold

them. Improvement in firearms aided the agriculturist here

against the indigenous horseman, whether Tatar, Cossack or

Turk, as elsewhere on prairie frontiers.

On their part the Osmanlis were wary of sending armies into

the steppe. They held fast to the river mouths, where slave mer

chants still dealt in captives from the Russian settlements and

the Caucasus. Moscow still feared to challenge Constantinople

to a test of war. When Don Cossacks took Azov from its Turkish

garrison in 1637, Moscow gave it back to the Turks, much to the

disgust of the Cossacks.

Until then the test had been between the two rules, between

2 Narratives of the expansion outward from Moscow through Asia are

given in the writer's two volumes, The March of Muscovy: Ivan the Ter

rible and The City and the Tsar: Peter the Great

343

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

Turkish tolerance and order in individual life, and Muscovite

aggression in exploitation. And the Turks had gained almost

as much by migration of population as the Muscovites had

acquired by military conquest. But the balance was shifting

along the frontiers. The fire was going out of the Turkish mis

sionary endeavor; leadership of the sultans failed entirely

during the anarchy in the Serai; the resistance movement among

the Christian minorities of the Balkans notably the Serbs-

gained strength and appealed for Russian aid.

For the first time, by 1670 Russian military power clearly

equaled that of the Turks. The grain and the river traffic of the

Ukraine turned Moscow's attention thither, instead of toward

the less profitable Baltic. Russian armies moved down upon

the steppe, only to return badly battered. Intangible enemies,

they reported, had beset them; the dry steppe grass had burned,

food and water failed, while elusive horsemen harried them.

So it happened that one tsar, Peter Alexeivich (the Great),

made his first military experiment at building ships on the Don

and assailing Turkish-held Azov. From his first experiment he

marched back discomfited. The next year the stubborn Peter

sailed down the Don again, and stormed the bastions of Azov

with the aid of the Cossacks. Still, he was unable to keep his

prize.

How the Turks got Azov back remains one of the muted tales

of history. It happened that Charles XII, Peter's great adversary

of later years, fled to sanctuary in Turkish territory after his

defeat at Poltava. The Turks supplied the noted fugitive with

spending money in gold coin and a bodyguard of janizaris.

Very soon after that the Tsar led the victorious army of

Poltava across the frontier line of the Dnieper to invade Tur

key. Peter managed to cross the Dniester also, but found that

armed forces of Christians did not rally to him as he expected.

Instead supplies failed, Tatar and Turkish horsemen cut his

column off from the rivers. When Osmanli infantry arrived

and encircled the Russians with trenches, close to the river

344

EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

Pruth, Peter capitulated with all his command, women included.

By payment of a massive ransom to the Vizir on the scene,

Baltaji Mehmed, he released himself and the army, but he had

to pledge the return of Azov to the Turks, the leveling of all

Russian fortifications at the river's mouth, and the safe return

of Charles to Sweden.

This capitulation has been much criticized as bribe-taking

on the part of the Vizir. Yet by it the Turks got rid of one em

barrassing refugee monarch and another imperial captive, while

regaining their cherished river port. Peter delayed long in car

rying out his pledge, but had to do it.

The giant Tsar made a fourth attempt at control of the Bkck

Sea, when he led an army into the land bridge of the Caucasus

at the far end. By doing so he hoped to hew a way through

Turkish Azerbaijan to rich Persia beyond. An active war with

Constantinople seemed in the making. Again the stubborn

Peter met with misf ortune, in the shipwreck of his supply fleet

on the Caspian, in drought and harassing attacks of the Mos

lem mountaineers, notably the Circassians. He did not get

through, and led his army back again. This was the beginning

of the century-long siege of the mountain barrier.

"The Russians Stand Firm without Their Heads' 9

This resistance upon the northern arc of the Bkck Sea acted

to turn the Russians back again to Peter's "window to the west"

upon the northern sea, the Baltic. There his new city of Peters

burg (now Leningrad) brought the Russian court decisively

into the Baltic theater, and Prussian influence.

To free the rivers flowing into the Black Sea, however, re

mained a major objective with the Russians, and their armies,

turning to active invasion, fought for the arc of the steppes.

Led by Count Miinnich, by Suvarov, a national hero, and

Kutusov, the victor over Napoleon, they cleared the rivers from

345

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

the Kuban to the Dniester. Yet somehow, in spite of official

victories, the Turks remained on the shore. Russian soldiers

said, "The Turks bowl over like ninepins, yet thank God, our

men stand firm, without their heads."

Although they appeared to stand firm on the northern shore,

the Russians agreed in the treaty of Belgrade (1739) that no

vessel of theirs could enter the Sea of Azov, or the Black Sea.

Although the powerful armies of Catherine the Great oc

cupied the entire Crimea with its port of Sevastopol in 1783,

and Potemkin staged his famous triumphal procession through

the homeland of the Tatars, Suvarov was still fighting for the

mouth of the adjacent Dnieper in 1789. There a Russian fleet,

launched upon the river, was led out to battle in the estuary by

John Paul Jones, who enlisted under Catherine briefly, to his

everlasting regret. Paul Jones won a hard conflict against the

Turkish Kaputan Pasha and corsairs from the Barbary Coast

For this victory the Prussian and Russian officers of the imperial

court were well rewarded, and Jones recalled to shore duty on

the Baltic.

Still the Turks kept the sea.

Potemkin had built one of his made-to-order towns, Kherson,

on the Dnieper. Not until 1793 did the first Russian town go up

on the coast itselfOdessa, near the Dniester, populated at first

with foreigners. Not until the Napoleonic upheaval of eastern

Europe did the Russian commands break the line of the Dniester

and penetrate to the mouth of the Danube, within the Balkans.

The way through the Caucasus barrier at the far end proved

even more impenetrable. The Moslem mountaineers, moved by

the spirit of a holy war, made a grinrstand there, led for a time

by the redoubtable Shamil, and aided constantly by the Turks.

The way was literally blasted out with camion. By 1829 the

Russian armies were through to Baku and the Azerbaijan cor

ridor to Persia. They had crossed the land bridge between the

346

EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

inland seas. In 1864 the Circassians who had held the heights

migrated to safety in Turkish territory.

By then the Russians, in common with most Europeans, were

calling the Turkish sultans the sick men of Europe. The sick

men, however, held to the Black Sea. The Turks came back to

Sevastopol with French and English allies, in the Crimean

War. The port at the far end, Batum, they held until 1878.

The sea itself is still divided, four centuries after Suleiman,

between the Turks and the expanding Soviet Union. The cor

ridor of Azerbaijan, once Turkish, is not yet under Soviet con

trol. The Caucasus heights and the shore of the Ukraine sim

mered with revolt during the German military invasion of

1943-44. After four centuries Moscow has not been able to

wrest the Black Sea from the Turks.

Along the road that Potemkin prepared for Catherine's Black

Sea triumph, there was a signpost, "To Constantinople/*

The capture of Constantinople on the waterway into the

Mediterranean took shape in Russian fancy, joined to the con

cept of liberating the fellow Slavs in the Balkans. These re

mained, as Stunner puts it, "schemes and dreams, but pregnant

for the future/*

During the fabulous nineteenth century tsarist Russia, grip

ping the Caucasus land bridge at the far end, and with a foot

hold in the Balkans, argued much about the straits of the Dar

danelles, the exit from the sea. "They are the gates of our house/*

Russian interest had switched again from the Baltic-and-the-

way-out-of-it, to the Black Sea. But Russian policy was rather

well satisfied to have the straits neutralized, fortified by the

Turks against the approach of war, either way.

"They are the hearth of our house,** the Turks explained in

answer. The waterways of the Bosphorus, the Marmora Sea and

the outer straits form the arterial of their country, as in Sulei

man's time.

After the Revolution, the industrial development of the Don

347

SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

basin and of oilfields in the Caucasus drew the attention of the

planners of the USSR away from the Baltic outlet to the Black

Sea.

After the climax of the war of 1939-45, the Soviet expan

sion, following the line of the Molotov-Ribbentrop agree

ment, pushed swiftly out along the Baltic shores. With the

Baltic virtually controlled, Soviet expansion took its course again

to the Black Sea.

To the Soviet request for Trebizond and the adjacent moun

tain frontier, and for the "safeguarding" of the northern shore

of the straits by Soviet military posts, the Turks answered in

effect, "Then come and take them."

When the Turkish Republic remained immovable on the

two vital points of surrendering the Black Sea and the straits,

Soviet pressure circled around the inland sea. First it struck

tentatively through the Caucasus, at the corridor of Azerbaijan

beyond. Turned back from Iran (Persia), it moved west to

strike down through the long Greek mountain frontier toward

the Aegean and the barrier islands outside the straits.

Turned back from Greece, Soviet expansion moved else

where.

The Turks are waiting now (1950) quietly enough for it to

return to the Black Sea and the northern shore of the water

ways. But the Turks say their straits will not change hands.

"What has been, will be."

There are times, like the present, when that is a comforting

thought.

In one of the colder winters of the last war, after Christmas

of 1944, I visited Istanbul, that had been Constantinople. I

wanted a few days' rest from being near the war. So I went to

Turkey, as I had done before, to find it.

Rain filled the sky. Some of the small gray ships anchored

out from Serai Point up the Bosphorus had the swastika painted

broad on their sides, because the Nazis then held the adjacent

348

EBB OF THE TURKISH TIDE

Aegean islands. Few people were in the Covered Market where

I browsed, looking for a stray Koran or an Armenian manu

script.

Mist lay like a veil out from Barbarossa's tomb. The day that

I took one of the small trams up the Trill to the university and

went into Suleiman's mosque for a farewell look around, it

rained hard.

No one else had come into the mosque. Yet out in the court

yard a company of boys waited, in their gray uniforms of cadets.

They had overcoats, and they waited cheerfully enough for

something.

Then a trivial thing happened. Two schoolgirls came in out of

the rain. At the entrance, according to old custom, they slipped

off their shoes. They went to a carpeted window embrasure and

opened their books as if to study between classes. They looked

like any American girls, and they behaved in the same way be

cause, after curling up on the carpet, instead of studying they

began to chatter, very softly, because, after all, they had come

into a mosque.

Watching them, apparently unheeding the cadets outside, I

wondered what the story of their lives might be. We knew so

little of the Turks. As a people they have been silent, and Ameri

cans can find little of their history to read.

It seemed absurd that the modern schoolgirls across the dim

space of the mosque should be like creatures of an unknown

people. I wondered why I kept coming back to this particular

place, and why this mosque had been built, and who Suleiman

had been, who built it.

349

Acknowledgment

In this effort to tell the life story of the first Suleiman for the gen

eral reader, I am deeply indebted to the masterly study of the

economy of the Sultan and his time by Professor Lybyer: The

Government of the Ottoman Empire in the Time of Suleiman the

Magnificent, Albert Howe Lybyer, Harvard University Press, 1913.

(Notable for its clear exposition of the ruling institution the Organ

izationand a superb bibliography. )

I am indebted to Professor Barnette Miller for details of the

Enderun from her The Palace School of Muhammad the Conqueror,

Harvard University Press, 1941. I have made use of several reports

of the various Italians from the chronological biography of the noted

historian of Spain, Professor Roger Merriman, Suleiman the Magnif

icent, 1520-1566, Harvard University Press, 1944.

In her Introduction, Professor Miller warns us that "The knowl

edge of the Turks which has existed in the Occident until recently

has been very limited. It has been confined almost wholly to their

past military glory, the fanatical aspect of their religion, a magnif

icence so great that Europeans not Turks bestowed the epithet of

'Magnificent* upon Suleiman in the magnificent age of the Renais

sance, and certain sensational features such as massacres and the

harem system generally viewed through the perspective of the

Crusades and the modern Protestant missionary movement As a

consequence the Turkish nation has for centuries been viewed with

an ignorant prejudice almost unparalleled in history/ 7

I think both the ignorance and the prejudice are without any

parallel in history.

350

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The Turkish way of life in the sixteenth century is strange to us.

Of it Hester Jenkins says, "it is very difficult to place soberly before

occidental readers. , . . But our only chance of understanding it is

to banish from our minds western conceptions and accept as facts

what seem like wild imaginings."

So this book has been written from the Turkish viewpoint, as I

could understand it, against the background of their country as it

could be reconstructed. All the people existed as they are shown; the

events took place; at times thoughts and words have been con

jectured from some known fact.

I have been aided by material generously given by Dr. Adnan

Erzi of the Historical Library, Ankara. Lewis V. Thomas of Prince

ton University gave me wise advice that no textbook could supply,

when we met last summer in Istanbul.

The three titles cited above are all that curious Americans may

find in libraries in this country. No modern history of the Turks, from

their early migration to their splendor and decline and subsequent

recovery today at the threshold of Europe, can be found, because it

does not exist There is no account of them, both modern and ac

curate, in English. As Richard Knolles said more than three cen

turies ago, there is notliing more strange or wonderful in the empire

of the Turks "as that it is not well known unto themselves, or agreed

upon even among the best writers of their Histories/*

Turkish scholarship in the last generation has made a good be

ginning at establishing the realities of the past. Among its publica

tions, the sixteenth volume of the Dunya TarihiOsmanli Tarihi

(History of the Osmanlis), II Cilt, Ankara, 1949, has 115 pages deal

ing with the reign of Suleiman. It is a chronological outline, with

emphasis on military achievement

This book is based on the ten Volumes of Joseph von Hammer-

Purgstall, the monumental and detailed Geschichte des Osmanischen

Reiches, Pesth, 1827-35. (French translation, Histoire de T Empire

Ottoman depuis son origine jusqud nos jours, J. de Hammer, Paris,

1836.) Von Hammer worked from manifold Turkish sources, some

of them not utilized since his day. Time has served to lay bare his

errors but not to better his achievement

351

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I have made use chiefly of the following:

Alberi, Eugenio, Relazione degli ambasciatori Veneti al Senato,

15 vols., Florence, 1839-63. (The remarkable accounts of Venetian

envoys who served also as polite spies. )

Charriere, Ernest, Negotiations de la France dans le Levant,

4 vols., Paris, 1848-60. (The documents, often startling, of the

French dealings with the Turks.)

Gibb, E. J. W., A History of Ottoman Poetry, 6 vols., London,

1900-9. (The poetical efforts of the sultans, with sketches of Yahya

and Bald.)

Postel, Guillaume, De la repablique des Turcs, Poitiers, 1560.

Rustem Pasha. Die osmanische Chronik des Rustem Pasha by

Ludwig Forrer, Leipzig, 1923. (Partial translation of Rustem's mem

oirs,)

ACCOUNTS OF THE VISITING OBSERVERS

Aramon. Le voyage de Monsieur D'Aramonpar Jean Ches-

neau, ed. by Charles Schefer, Paris, 1897. (The experience of the

French envoy who first dealt with Barbarossa, by his secretary. )

Busbecq. Life and Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq by

Charles T. Forster and E. H. Blackburne, 2 vols., London, 1881.

(The best narrative of the last years of Suleiman, in frank letters to a

friend. )

Navagero, Bernardo, Relazione, 1553.

Rycaut, Paul, The Present State of the Ottoman Empire, Lon

don, 1668. (View of a realistic Englishman, a century after Sulei

man.)

Thevenot, The Travels of Monsieur de Thevenot into the Le

vant, London, 1687. (Most valuable for its details of ordinary life.)

352

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

TESTIMONY FROM THE OUTSIDE

Bourbon, Jacques de, La grande et merveilleuse et trs cruelle

oppugnation de la noble cite de Rhodes, Paris, 1527. (The best eye

witness account of the siege. )

Commentarius Brevis Rerum in Orbe Gestarum, Cologne, 1567.

(This Brief World Happenings written by Catholic Germans far

from the scene still mentions Suleiman and his doings only less often

than Luther and Charles V. With other chronicles, it reminds us how

vitally Suleiman affected the interests of Europeans in his day. )

Hippolyto, Sanz, La Maltea en que se trata la famosa defensa

de sant Joan en la isla de Maltea, Valencia, 1582.

Jovius, Paulus, Turcicarum Rerum Commentarius, Paris, 1538.

Knolles, Richard, The Generdl Historie of the Turks, 4th ed.,

Adam Islip, 1631. (Written in 1603 and continued after him to 1621,

this full-bodied narrative of the Turks from outer testimony reflects

the fear and the admiration they aroused. )

Luther, Martin, De Bello Turcica, 1530.

Pantaleon, Henrico, Militaris Ordinis Johannitarum 9 Rhodiorum

out Melitensium Equitum Rerum Memordbilium y Basle, 1581. (One

of the many histories of the Knights, and their defense of Malta.)

THE SEA, AND ITS STORYTEIXERS

Haji Khalifa, The History of the Maritime Wars of the Turks,

translated from the Turkish by James Mitchell, London, 1831.

Piri Reis, Bir Turk Amirali, Istanbul, 1937. (Sketch of the ca

reer of Piri Reis as a geographer, admiral, and finder of a portion of

the lost map of Christopher Columbus.)

353

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Sidi All Reis, The Travels and Adventures of the Turkish Ad

miral Sidi Ali Reis, translated by A. Vambery, London, 1899.

De La Graviere, Jurien, Doria et Barberousse, Paris, 1886. (The

only western narrative of the Turks in the Mediterranean that is not

biased, misleading, or misinformed. A notable work by a man of the

sea.)

Mercier, Ernest, Histoire de UAfrique Septentrionale (Ber-

berie), Paris, 1891. (The only adequate account of medieval North

Africa, its conflicts and its peoples. Like the Turks themselves, this

coast has been dropped from the course of western history. It dis

appears from Roman times to colonial French.)

Oz, Tahsin, Barbarosun, Istanbul, 1936. (A new appreciation of

the first Turkish admiral. )

THE MEETING WITH THE RUSSIANS IN THE STEPPES AND THE BEGINNING

OF THE STRUGGLE FOR THE BLACK SEA

Howorth, Sir Henry, History of the Mongols (Part II, the So-

Called Tartars of Russia), London, 1880. (Dealings of the Krim

khans with Moscow. )

Inalcik, Halil, The Origin of the Ottoman-Russian Rivalry, and

the Don-Volga Canal, 1569.

Lamb, Harold, The March of Muscovy, New York, 1948.

, The City and the Tsar, New York, 1948.

Sumner, B. H., Survey of Russian History, London, 1944.

( Contains a study of the Russian expansion toward the two outlet

seas, the Baltic and Black Sea.)

FOR GENERAL READING

Colorful accounts of the Serai, with good maps and photo

graphs, are to be found in Beyond the Sublime forte by

354

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Miller, Yale University Press, 1931, and in The Harem by N. M. Pen-

zer, London, 1936.

Two brief German volumes Konstantinopel unter Suleiman

dem Grossen, aufgenommen im Jahre 1559 by E. Oberhummer,

Miinchen, 1902; and Franz Babinger's Die Geschichtsschretber der

Osmanen und ihre Werke, Leipzig, 1927 give a description of the

city at that time, and Turkish sources.

One of the most understanding appraisals of Turkish character

lies in Turkey in Europe by Sir Charles Elliot. The Bektash Order of

Dervishes by the master of Turkish lore, J. K. Birge, sheds light on

the great influence of that little-known order.

Sir Charles Oman's fine A History of the Art of War in the Six

teenth Century is imbued with the Victorian conviction that the

Turks were attacking Christendom. This distinguished scholar did

not understand the Turkish character or objectives, but his descrip

tion of the European efforts is painstaking.

355

Abu Hanifa, grave found, 217

Aden, seized by Turks, 237

Adriatic Sea, 162; sea campaigns

under Barbarossa in, 179, 183-

87, 193-98

Aegean Sea, 162; Turkish control

won by Barbarossa, 186

Aegina raided by Barbarossa, 186

Africa, North, attempt of Spain to

control, 234-36; conflict with

Europe, 162-64

Ahmed, Vizir, 252

Ahmed Pasha, 87

Akbar, Emperor of Hindustan, 268

Alexander the Great, Suleiman in

fluenced by, 24

Algiers, besieged by Charles V,

201-6; piracy developed in, 339;

seized by Barbarossa, 164; Span

ish fleet captured at, 166

Ali Pasha, 275-76

Alva, Duke of, 202

Alvaro de Sande, Don, 270

America, early map of, 176

Anatolia, Turkoman outbreak in,

111

Anne -of Bohemia and Hungary,

wife of Ferdinand I, 111

Arabs, in Constantinople, 84

Ardibil, raided by Turks, 219

Armenians, in Constantinople, 84;

trade concessions under Turks,

112

Army, Turkish, 330-31; in camp,

210-11; importance of, in Os-

manli rule, 31, 154; on march,

40-41; plundering as economic

necessity for, 101-2; in Sulei

man's old age, 281-83

Army of Asia, 41

Army of Europe, 41

Arslan Khan, 305

Arta, Gulf of, sea battle between

Turks and Holy League in, 193-

Artillery, at siege of Rhodes, 60

Asia, Suleiman's turn to, 156-67,

170, 207-9; Turkish campaign

in, 211-19

Asker. See Army, Turkish

Astrakhan, seized by Ivan the Ter

rible, 262-63; Suleiman's plan

for retaking, 264; Turkish super

vision of, 227

Austria, first Turkish campaign

against, 125-33; second Turkish

campaign against, 151-56; Sulei

man's intentions toward, 153-55

357

INDEX

Avlona, landing of Turkish troops

at, 183

Aya Sophia (Santa Sophia), 82-83

Ayas Pasha, 61; as First Vizir, 220-

21, 238

At/in (old custom), 26-27, 31-32,

316

Azov, Crimea, conquests of, 343-45

'Azov, Sea of, 161

Baden, Turkish seizure of, 132

Baghdad, retaken by Turks, 216;

seized by Persians, 212

Bairam, feast of, described by Ogier

Busbecq, 209-10

Bajazet. See Bayazid

Baki, poet, 287, 302; quoted, 313-

14, 317

Bali Agha, 42-43

Balbus, Hieronymus, 93-94

Baltaji Mehmed, 345

Barbaro, Marcantonio, quoted, 76

Barbarossa, Khair ad-Din, 161,

164-206; battle of Prevesa, 193-

98; campaign in Adriatic, 179,

183-87; campaign in western

Mediterranean, 200-1, 206; cap

ture and loss of Tunis, 170-74;

expedition to France, 227-31;

honored by Sultan Selim, 165;

made commander of Turkish

fleet, 166-70; negotiations with

Christian powers, 180-82, 201

Barbary Coast, development of,

338-40

Bavaria, Reformation in, 134

Bayaziol, son of Suleiman, 118, 141,

243, 249; death of, 284-85;

favored as heir to Suleiman, 251,

257; rivalry with brother Selim

for right of succession, 277-79;

treachery of, 271, 279-84

Bayazid II, 7-8

Beat-the-Devil, lieutenant of Bar

barossa, 165, 171, 173, 194

Beaufort, Henry of, expedition to

Africa, 234

Belgrade, campaign against, 37-42;

conquest of, 42-43; treaty of

(1739), between Turks and Rus

sians, 346

Berbers, in Constantinople, 84

Bitlis, seized by Persians, 212

Bizerta, as hideaway for Barbarossa,

171, 174

Black Mountain (Montenegro),

289-90

Black Sea, 161, 222-23; conflict

between Turks and Russians for,

340-48; peoples of, 223-27

Bohemia, Suleiman's intentions to

ward, 153; in Turkish campaign

against Hungary, 95-96

Bologna, Charles V crowned em

peror at, 134

Books of library in Suleimaniye,

255

Bosnia, advance of Austrian army

through, 188-89

Bourbon, Due de, expedition to

Africa, 234

Bragadino, Venetian Bailo, quoted,

119

Brief World Happenings, 312-13;

quoted, 132, 175, 188, 205

Brotherhood, Suleiman's concept of,

Brunn, Turkish seizure of, 132

Brusa, 249-50

Buda, after death of John Zapolya,

199-200; held by Turks for John

Zapolya, 134r-35; occupied by

Ferdinand, 119-20; retaken by

Turks, 124-25; Turkish conquest

of, 102-4

Buildings ordered by Suleiman,

254-58

Bujeya, captured by Turks, 234;

retreat of Charles V to, after de

feat at Algiers, 205

358

INDEX

Bulgars, 113

Busbecq, Ogier, Austrian ambassa

dor to Turks, 209, 261, 265, 274,

289, 316; quoted, 53-54, 209-

11, 212, 253, 270-71, 274-76,

277, 278

Byzantine influence on Osmanlis,

83-84

Cacca-diabolo. See Beat-the-Devil

Cambrai, League of, 192n.; peace

of, between France and Charles

V, 125

Caravels, 172

Cartier, Jacques, 182

Castro, captured by Turks, 183

Catherine of Aragon, 18

Catherine the Great of Russia, 346

Cephalonia raided by Barbarossa,

186

Cervantes, Miguel de, 335; quoted,

206

Charles V of Holy Roman Empire,

17-18, 92-94; in campaign to de

fend Vienna against Turks, 150-

53; conflict at sea with Turks,

165-66, 171-76, 180-81, 200-6;

in defense of Hungary against

Turks, 95; in defense of Vienna,

126; land force sent down Drave

River against Turks, 187-89; and

Lutheran uprisings, 94-95, 150;

as member of Holy League, 189-

98; Peace of Crepy with Francis

I, 231; peace mission to Sulei

man, 133-35; peace treaty of

1547 with Suleiman, 240; peace

treaty with Francis I, 125; rela

tionships with European powers,

110-12; retreat to monastery,

272; sea and land attack of

French and Turks against, 228;

second peace mission to Sulei

man, 157-60; ten-year truce with

Francis I during invasion of

Italy, 184; treaty of Madrid with

Francis I, 108; after Turkish con

quest of Rhodes, 67; and upris

ing of Lutherans, 94-95; war

with Francis I, 56

Charles XII of Sweden, 344

Chiarezza, 319

Christianity, attitude of Suleiman

toward, 68-69, 115-16, 149, 261;

resistance of, within Suleiman's

dominion, 289-90

Christians, Turkish treatment of, 7,

68, 76, 116, 255

City of God, by St. Augustine, 162

Civita Vecchia, threatened by Bar

barossa, 228-29

Clement VII, Pope, 95, 96; held

prisoner by Charles V, 111

Colombo, Cristoforo, 163

Commentary on Turkish Affairs, by

Paolo Giovio, 239

Constantinople, 9-10, 82-85; bodies

of water surrounding, 161-62;

conquest of, by Turks, 3, 6, 30;

festivals in Hippodrome, 86-87,

136-41; religious center built by

Suleiman in, 254-56; Suleiman's

ambitions for, 145-46

Contarini, Bartolomeo, quoted, 16-

Conversion of Christians to Islam,

288-89

Corfu, Turkish siege of, 184-85

Cornaro, Mark Antony, 190-91

Cortez, Hernando, 202, 204

Cossacks, 224r-25, 342-43

Crepy, Peace of, between Charles

V and Francis I, 231

Crete, captured by Turks, 338;

raided by Barbarossa, 186

Crimea, 225-27; Tatar khans of,

116,262-63

Croats, 113; as allies of Suleiman,

123

359

INDEX

Crusades, retreat of Knights to

Rhodes, 56

Cyprus, rental paid Turks by Ven

ice for, 47; retreat of Knights to,

56; Turkish invasion of, 333-34

Danube River, first Turkish cam

paign to break European defense

of, 37-44; second campaign

against, 90-92, 94-104; third

campaign against, 123-33; Turk

ish missionaries along, 113

Dardanelles, 162, 347-48

De BeUo Turcica, by Martin Lu

ther, 133

De la Foret, Jean, 181-82

Diet of Spires, 95

Diet of Worms, 92-93

Diu, attacked by Turks, 237

Divan, 75; harem influence exerted

over, 241-53; withdrawal of

Suleiman from, 114-15

Diyarbekr, Bustem appointed Bey-

lerbey of, 244

Don Cossacks, 225, 342-43

Don River, canal to Volga, attempt

at, 330; plans for, 264

Donini, Marcantonio, quoted, 288

Doria, Andrea, negotiations with

Francis I, 231; sea campaigns

against Turks, 166-67, 171, 174-

75, 179-81, 192-98, 202-5, 233-

34, 236

Doria, Giovanetto, 232

Doria, Giovanni, 236

Dragut (Torgut), Turkish admiral,

194-95, 202, 231; campaign

against Malta, 291-95; in com

mand of Turkish fleet, 232-36,

240, 264-65, 270, 290-91

Drake, Francis, 334

Drave River, Austrian advance

against Turks down, 187-89

Diirer, Albrecht, 239

Education, 7; at Enclosed School,

48-54; schools in new Sulei-

maniye, 255

Egypt, France given trade conces

sions by Turks, 110-11; under

Turkish rule, 87, 146, 147, 259

Elba, plundered by Barbarossa,

167-68, 231

Enclosed School. See School

Enghien, Francois Bourbon, Due d'

229

Enzersdorf, Turkish seizure of, 132

Ertoghrul, ancestor of House of Os-

man, 29-30

Erzerum, seized by Persians, 247

Eszek, rout of Austrian army by

Turks at, 188-89

Europe, conflict with North Africa,

162-64; disunity after defeat of

Rhodes, 67; fear of Suleiman,

144-45; first campaign of Sulei

man against, 36-44; fourth cam

paign of Suleiman against, 150-

56; knowledge of Suleiman, 239;

last campaign of Suleiman

against, 301-10; middle, under

control of Hapsburgs, 112; mus

ter of armies at Vienna for ex

pected Turkish attack, 150-56;

peace treaty of 1547 with Sulei

man, 239-41; second campaign

of Suleiman against, 90-92, 94-

105; third campaign of Suleiman

against, 123-33

European rulers, Suleiman's efforts

toward friendship with, 69-71;