"I shall not take off your head, comrade," replied Mahomet. "I need what is in it too much, though it belongs to a young rebel. But begone! I shall work my plans without asking your advice in the matter."
A firman was issued by which the Padishah claimed the supreme power of appointing to command in all grades of the military service. Within an hour after its proclamation, the Janizaries were in open defiance of the sovereign. Before their movements could be anticipated, the great court in front of the selamlik in the seraglio was filled with the enraged soldiery. That sign of terror which had blanched the faces of former Padishahs—the inverted soup-kettle—was planted before the very doors of the palace, and the Sultan was a prisoner within.
"Recall the firman! Long live the Yeni-Tscheri!" rang among the seraglio walls, and was echoed over the city.
The Sultan not appearing, there rose another cry, at first only a murmur, but at length pouring from thousands of hoarse throats,—
"Down with Mahomet! Live the Yeni-Tscheri!"
Still the Sultan made no response. There was a hurried consultation among the leaders of the insurgents. Then a rapid movement throughout the crowd. For a moment it seemed as if they had turned every man against his fellow. But Mahomet's experienced eye, as he watched from the latticed window, saw that the swarm of men was only taking shape. The mob was transformed into companies. Between the ranks passed men, as if they rose out of the ground; some dragging cannon; some bearing scaling ladders.
Mahomet appeared upon the platform, dressed in full armor. He raised his sword, when silence fell upon the multitude.
"I am your Padishah."
"Long live Mahomet!" was the cry.
"Do I not command every faithful Ottoman? Who will follow where Mahomet leads?"