Tom Swan and the Head of St George Part Three: Constantinople Read Free Page B

Turk. I’m naked, and I need clothes. I promise I can pay. Please help me,’ he said in what he hoped was his most complacent and charming Greek.
    The nearer of the two women made a motion with her hand to the other.
    ‘Show yourself, heretic,’ she said.
    He called out, ‘I’m naked.’
    ‘All the better,’ she said, drawing a knife from her gown. ‘Let me see you,’ she ordered.
    Swan emerged from the columns.
    She laughed. ‘A Frank! Truly, you are not lying.’ She spat. ‘Why should I save you? You Franks are worse than the Turks.’
    ‘Money? Save me, and I will pay.’ Swan backed away.
    She looked around. ‘Truly? You will pay? So will the Turks, I would guess. Eh?’ she asked, and waved the knife at him.
    The other woman laughed. ‘He is young, and handsome.’ She made an obscene gesture. ‘And naked.’

    Half an hour later, he was at the gates of the Venetian quarter, dressed as a Greek woman. Silently, head averted, he handed a folded note to the janissary, who passed it in to the Venetian guard.
    Alessandro appeared. ‘I’ll answer for this woman,’ he said coolly.
    The janissary saluted and smirked, and Swan followed his capitano .
    ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Alessandro said.
    ‘I was set up. I survived.’ He shook his head. ‘I escaped.’
    ‘How do you come to be dressed . . . like a woman? Like a Greek woman?’ Alessandro asked.
    ‘It’s complicated,’ Swan said.
    Alessandro stopped and shocked him by embracing him. ‘Well done,’ he said.
    ‘What – well done for not getting killed?’ Swan asked.
    ‘Given the way things are going, not getting killed gets a pass,’ Alessandro said.
    After a lot of sleep, he sat with a cup of wine in Alessandro’s room. ‘This is how I see it,’ he said. ‘Omar Reis planned to use me. His sister planned to use me and sell me, but Omar Reis always intended to make an unpleasant incident of the whole thing. And kill me.’
    Alessandro fingered his beard.
    ‘Had I been caught – red handed, so to speak—’
    ‘The Sultan might have refused the embassy, or merely used it as a pretext to keep us waiting.’ Alessandro shrugged. ‘As if he needs a pretext.’ The Venetian leaned forward. ‘I should send you across to Galata before the Turks send for you.’
    Swan looked out into the sunlight. Warm and dry, with wine in him, the whole thing was beginning to seem more like an adventure. ‘I don’t think Omar Reis can admit I was in his house.’
    ‘He must know. He knows you weren’t here. His janissaries must tell him of every movement here.’
    ‘Yes – but can he admit that I penetrated his sanctum,’ Swan enjoyed his double entendre, ‘and lived to tell of it?’
    Alessandro fingered his beard.
    ‘What if I never returned?’ Swan asked.
    ‘What?’ Alessandro said.
    ‘All the janissary knows is that you brought in a Greek whore.’ Swan finished his wine. ‘I think I’ve thought this through. Give me Peter and some money. I’m going to disappear. And I’m going to get the cardinal’s library out of his house, and maybe some other things.’ He nodded to himself. ‘I may even manage to get these things shipped over to Galata.’
    Alessandro nodded. ‘You think you can use the sewers to get into his house.’
    Swan was crestfallen that the Venetian saw so quickly through his plan. ‘Yes.’
    Alessandro nodded. ‘This is an excellent plan,’ he said. ‘Let me give you a word of advice.’
    Swan nodded.
    ‘Do not – I beg leave to repeat myself – do not seek to avenge yourself on Omar Reis.’ Alessandro rose and poured more wine. ‘We have our date. The Sultan will receive the papal ambassador in three days’ time. We are to leave the city immediately after.’ Alessandro handed him wine. ‘Whatever you do, you must be back in three days. And no revenge. Understood?’
    Swan nodded. ‘Of course not. That would be stupid.’
    An hour later, he had exchanged notes with Simon. Several hours later, a