Halil Patrona reflected for an instant.
The Sultan indeed had always been gracious towards him. He evidently wanted to favour him with an honourable way of retreat. He was offering him a high dignity whereby he might be able to withdraw from the capital, and yet at the same time gratify his ambition. The Sultan really had a kindly heart then. He rewards the man whom his ministers would punish as a malefactor.
But his hesitation only lasted for a moment. Then he recovered himself and resolutely answered:
"I will not accept that kaftan. For myself I ask nothing. I did not come here to receive high office, I came to hear war proclaimed."
The Grand Vizier bowed down before him.
"Thy word is decisive. The Padishah has decided that what thou and thy comrades demand shall be accomplished. The Grand Seignior himself awaits thee in the Porcelain Chamber. There war shall be proclaimed, and the kaftans of remembrance distributed to thee and thy fellows."
And with that the Ulemas and Halil's comrades were led away to the kiosk of Erivan.
"And ye who are the finest fellows of us all," said Kabakulak, turning to Halil and Musli—"ye, Halil and Musli, come first of all to kiss the Sultan's hand."
Halil with a cold smile pressed Musli's hand. Even now poor Musli had no idea what was about to befall them. Only when at "the gate of the cold spring" the Spahis on guard divested them of their weapons, for none may approach the Sultan with a sword by him—only, then, I say, did he have a dim sensation that all was not well.
In the Sofa Chamber, where the Divan is erected, is a niche separated from the rest of the chamber by a high golden trellis-work screen, behind whose curtains it is the traditional custom of the Sultan to listen privately to the deliberations of his counsellors. From behind these curtains a woman's face was now peeping. It was Adsalis, the favourite Sultana, and behind her stood Elhaj Beshir, the Kizlar-Aga. Both of them knew there would be a peculiar spectacle, something well worth seeing in that chamber to-day.