Roxelana & Suleyman

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There was already much rejoicing in the city at the falling of dusk. Oil lamps were being lit along the main thoroughfares, and candlelight flicker escaped from windows as the city prepared for the festivities and feasting that would start with the rising of the sun.

Dariusz walked aimlessly down crooked lanes and through markets that were doing a thriving night trade—pushing his way through the boisterous crowds. He had not eaten for many days and his belly growled; it ached. He passed street stalls piled high with food. Pulling into a small alcove he rummaged anxiously through his knapsack for anything of value that he might barter for a piece of bread or meat—but there was nothing. In disgust, he threw the bag to the ground and crouched in the darkness of the niche to stare at those nearby. Men ripped hungrily into roasted meats still clinging to the bone. Children sucked their fingers after consuming tasty morsels.

He licked his lips and rubbed his abdomen, then slammed his fist into the wall at his side.

A group of rogues, similar in age to Dariusz, ran past, shoving him against the wall. They shouldered a street trolley laden with breads and spiced meats to the ground. The stall owner yelled and swore as they ran off with several loaves and legs of roasted lamb. Without hesitation, Dariusz jumped to his feet and gave chase. He followed the three men down lane after twisting lane. Weak from fatigue and hunger he faltered and tripped, but still he pursued them. Rounding a corner into a darkened alley, he caught a remnant of movement as they disappeared behind a bush at its end. Slowing, he felt his way carefully along the alley wall until he came to the thorny plant. Certain that no one could see him, he slipped between it and the wall and into a downward-sloping tunnel. It was dark. Very dark. Water dripped from the ceiling. Far ahead candles flickered, voices echoed.

“Long live the new Sultan,” shouted one.

“May he keep our city thriving and our bellies full,” cried another. They burst into laughter.

Dariusz came to the end of the tunnel where it opened up to a large, dimly lit underground cavern. What appeared to be a thousand and one stone columns held the indiscernible ceiling high above sight. The cave was vast, the far end not apparent, obscured by columns and shadows, the echoing voices of the young men seemingly at a great distance. Water flowed around the bases of the columns. He tried to ascertain its depth, but could not see through the murky sludge. Treading cautiously on boards that had been placed between the column bases, just inches above the waterline, Dariusz stepped along them toward the glimmer of reflected torchlight. The boards creaked and bounced beneath his weight—his shoes with their worn out soles were soon soaking wet as the walkway dipped into the water. Hugging each column as he came to it, he trod slowly forward.

When he thought he was near the men, the conversation suddenly stopped—its echoes diminishing into the depths of the vast space. The cavern was finally silent except for the dripping of water from above and the swirling of the current below. Dariusz squinted, attempting to see through the darkness. He stretched and placed his foot on the plank that led to the next column, all the while straining to hear the slightest sound or see any kind of movement as his sight became more attuned.

Several heavy footfalls echoed, and one of the men lunged at him from around a column. Both went crashing sideways, landing on another set of rough planks. Dariusz punched at the air, but a fist connected with his chin—causing him to bite the side of his tongue. Rolling sideways and scampering to his feet, he jumped over the water to another plank just as one of the men slammed into the column where he had been. He now could plainly see the silhouettes of the three who surrounded him. Two of them leapt onto his plank. One of them threw his fist at Dariusz, but he ducked and returned with a blow of his own that sent the silhouette faltering backwards to plunge into the water.

As the remaining two converged on him, Dariusz jumped from plank to plank. He made it to a wide ledge at the side of the cavern that was strewn with blankets and wine bladders around a small fire. He turned to see the men also jump onto the ledge. He charged at them, his fist clipping one of the faces before he was flipped and thrown head first into the murky water swelling below. The water was filthy and it stank. His head hit the stone bottom and he swallowed a large mouthful of the putrid liquid. Emerging above the current, coughing and choking, he found himself below the mesmerizing face of a large stone medusa head. He grasped at the snakes chiseled around the forbidding face and attempted to climb up to the column that rose from its top. On a creaking plank to its side the three black silhouettes peered down at him. One of them punched his fist repeatedly into his open palm.

The water, slimy and freezing, was only a few feet deep where Dariusz had fallen in. He lifted himself to his feet, yelling and pushing his full weight into the bottom of the plank on which they stood. It slipped from the column bases and the three went flying backward into the water. The resounding splash of the bodies echoed around the cavern and bounced off the columns. They spluttered and coughed in the water as Dariusz pulled himself, once again, up onto the stone ledge. He was exhausted. The others dragged themselves up onto the ledge beside him and just lay there glaring at him. The one closest held his attention as he wheezed and coughed up the black sludge. Spitting and wiping at his mouth with his forearm, the young man abruptly burst into laughter and clapped Dariusz on the back. He stumbled to his feet, then helped Dariusz and the others to theirs.

The men chuckled and Dariusz could not help a tired smile.

One of the men spoke several words excitedly. Dariusz didn’t understand the language, but recognized it as a friendly salutation. He held out his hand, which was vigorously shaken, and glanced toward the bundles of food lying on the ground. Sensing his hunger, the man led him by the hand and they sat by the fire. Dariusz bit hungrily into the bread that was offered him. Still he was wary of the men who continued to smirk and study his movements, perhaps not certain on whether to trust him.

“Oh, this is good, I haven’t eaten for days,” he offered in a hoarse whisper that echoed throughout the underground cistern.

“Ah, so you can speak, young prince,” said the man that had lifted Dariusz onto the ledge, easily switching languages.

Dariusz turned in surprise. “My name is Dariusz.”

“I am Halim. This is Ishak and Kasim.”

The three men once again shook his hand as he stuffed bread and chunks of spiced meat into his mouth. He took a swig of wine from a bladder, wincing from its bitterness, but enjoying the feeling of warmth that spread quickly throughout his body.

Ishak poked a stick into the ashes of the nearly dead fire. Placing some kindling onto the embers he squatted down and blew softly until the wood started to glow brighter. All the men were soaking wet—putrid—from Dariusz’s initiation. They shucked off their shirts and breeches and laid them carefully out on the ledge to dry. Dariusz tentatively lifted his ragged shirt over his head and held it out in front of himself. It was more rips and holes than material. He threw it into the water in disgust. Halim laughed at Dariusz’s action, but stopped when he saw the scars on the exposed chest and back.

“You have been to war, my friend,” Halim said with respect.

Dariusz said nothing. He stood to take off his pants, the frayed material little more than threads and patches. “Do you have something I can wear if I throw these away too?” he questioned Halim.

“My friend, we can get you anything you need.”

“Good.” And with that Dariusz ripped the breeches from his legs and threw them into the dark after his shirt.

“Son of a dog!” Halim remarked in awe. “There will always be a fine road for you to travel, my friend.”

Dariusz hunkered down amongst his new companions and held his hands to the growing fire. Its warmth complemented his full belly as the four of them lazed n***d around its glow. He knew that the men wanted to talk, but also that they saw he was in no mind for conversation. His thoughts became lost in the crackling and sizzling flames of silent contemplation, until fatigue finally overcame him.