The Janissary Tree Read Free

on rich and powerful families, chaperoning
their women, watching over their children, supervising the household. An
ordinary
lala
was something between a butler and a housekeeper, a
nanny and the head of security: a guardian. Yashim felt the title suited him.
    "But
as far as I understand it," the seraskier said slowly, "you are without
attachment. Yes, you have links to the palace. Also to the streets. So tonight
I invite you into our family, the family of the New Guard. For ten days, at most."
    "The
family, you mean, of which you are the head?"
    "In
a manner of speaking. But do not think I am setting myself up as the father of
this family. I would like you to think of me, rather, as a kind of, of--" The
seraskier looked uneasy: the word did not seem to come easily to him. Distaste
for eunuchs, Yashim knew, was as ingrained among Ottoman men as their suspicion
of tables and chairs. "Think of me--as an older brother. I protect you. You
confide in me." He paused, wiped his forehead. "Do you, Ali, have any family
yourself?"
    Yashim
was used to this: disgust, tempered with curiosity. He made a motion with his
hand, ambiguous: let the man wonder; it was none of his business.
    "The
New Guard must earn the confidence of the people, and of the sultan, too," the
seraskier continued. "That is the purpose of the review. But something has
happened which might wreck the process."
    It
was Yashim's turn to be curious, and he felt it like a ripple up the back of
his neck.
    "This
morning," the seraskier explained, "I was informed that four of our officers
had failed to report for morning drill." He stopped, frowned. "You must
understand that the New Guard are not like any other army the empire has seen. Discipline.
Hard work, fair pay, and obedience to a superior officer. We turn up for drill.
I know what you are thinking, but these officers were particularly fine young
gentlemen. I would say that they were the flower of our corps, as well as being
our best gunnery officers. They spoke French," he added, as if that concluded
it. Perhaps it did.
    "So
they had attended the engineering university?"
    "They
passed with top marks. They were the best."
    "Were?"
    "Please,
a moment." The seraskier raised a hand to his forehead. "At first, in spite of
everything, I thought like you. I supposed they had had some adventure and
would reappear later, very shamefaced and sorry. I, of course, was ready to
tear them into strips: the whole corps look up to those young men, do you see? They
set, as the French say, the tone."
    "You
speak French?"
    "Oh,
only a very little. Enough."
    Most
of the foreign instructors in the New Guard, Yashim knew, were Frenchmen, or
others--Italians, Poles--who had been swept into the enormous armies the Emperor
Napoleon had raised to carry out his dreams of universal conquest. A decade
since, with the Napoleonic Wars finally at an end, some of the more indigent
remnants of the Grande Armee had found their way to Istanbul, to take the
sultan's sequin. But learning French was a business for the young, and the
seraskier was pushing fifty. Go on.
    "Four
good men vanished from their barracks last night. When they did not appear this
morning, I asked one of the
temizlik,
the cleaners, and found out that
they had not slept in their dormitory."
    "And
they're still missing?"
    "No.
Not exactly."
    "What
do you mean, not exactly?"
    "One
of them was found tonight. About four hours ago."
    "That's
good."
    "He
was found dead in an iron pot."
    "An
iron pot?"
    "Yes,
yes. A cauldron."
    Yashim
blinked. "Do I understand," he said slowly, "that the soldier was being
cooked?"
    The
seraskiers eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Cooked?" he echoed weakly. It
was a refinement he had not considered. "I think," he said, "that you should
just come and take a look."
    4
    ****************
    Two
hours later, Yashim had seen just about all that he wanted to see for one
morning. For any number of mornings.
    Summoning
a lantern bearer, the seraskier had walked him