THE ODYSSEY OF RENÉ DU CHASTELET DES BOYS – PART 4

(This post is a continuation of The Odyssey of René du Chastelet des Boys – Parts 1, 2, & 3. If you haven’t done so already, it’s best to read those posts before continuing on here.)

René du Chastelet des Boys and his companions, remember, were incarcerated in a room in the palace of the Pasha, in Algiers, where they have spent an anxious night.

At sunrise, having slept uneasily, we prepared ourselves as best we could for our presentation before the Pasha. Out of fear of being chosen by him as part of the one fifth that was his due, none of us washed ourselves or combed our hair, for we all wanted to avoid looking like we might be wealthy, well positioned, or clever. We waited, not knowing what to expect.

Estevan, the Pasha’s old slave, appeared, relieving our impatient curiosity. He had not yet finished cleaning the entrance and the stable of the royal palace (this being an ordinary task of his), but he came to us, panting and out of breath, to let us know that he had learned from those who had to attend the Divan that we would not this day be exposed in the eyes of Pasha, nor led to the Souk [the market] known as the Badestan, to be auctioned off there to the highest bidder.

After this, we relaxed a little. A short while later, however, the mustachioed Biclas, the royal kitchen officer from the day before, came to find us and advise us be patient, for it was Ramadan, and since Muslims abstaining from eating or drinking throughout the day at this time until the appearance of the first star, we slaves would get nothing to eat until then.

Once the Biclas had finished his admonition of us, Estevan asked him if we could, without fear of mistreatment, leave our room and walk through the courtyards and offices of the palace, for perhaps, in doing so, we might be able to render some small service to the Turks and guard officers who had no private slaves. The Biclas replied that as long as we did not go anywhere near the door leading out into the courtyard—for if we did, those on guard there would think we were trying to escape—we could go where we wanted without fear of criticism.

After this, there was nobody among us, except for three who were very sick, who did not take advantage of this opportunity to escape the confines of the room we were in.

I ventured out, still wearing the scruffy sailor’s clothes that I had donned to disguise my true station. The first person I met was the renegade named Osman, the man with whom I had conversed the previous evening. After greetings on both sides, he returned to our earlier conversation and offered to be of what service he could to me, and he promised to find me a good master. I thanked him politely, but I refrained from telling him anything about myself, for I had received warnings that one should not trust people like Osman, who feigned concern and loyalty, but whose real interest was likely to discover if I was a man of consequence, and thus somebody for whom a large ransom could be expected—a ransom from which Osman himself would receive a share as an informant.

I met with a number of other Turks as I wandered the palace halls. One of them gave me I some aspers [small copper coins used in Algiers] wrapped in a little cone of paper. Others wished upon me a good master, and freedom even. All this made me realize that these Turkish infidels are more charitable than is commonly conceded.

I spent the rest of the time that needed to be passed until the apparition of the first star in contemplating the palace, where I walked with complete freedom and without any untoward encounters except for some kitchen officers who shouted at me in their incomprehensible language and from whom I quickly retreated.

At this point, the reader might be interested in a description of the Pasha’s palace itself.

To tell the truth—and this may seem a little surprising—after seeing most of it, I concluded that the palace was not so beautiful as I had imagined it might be. It is located in the middle of the city, but there is nothing illustrious or remarkable about it. Outside, there is a large, fairly messy courtyard, and the only thing to attract the eyes of viewers is a double gallery of mediocre size, supported by a double row of porphyry columns enriched with marquetry and mosaic antiques. The rest of the place is vast and confused and not worth the trouble to describe. As I walked around, I saw the kitchens where there was an abundance of dishes being prepared for the end of the day, all of rice or couscous (which is a composition of flour formed into in very small, round shapes), along with forcefully boiled chickens, all intended for the table of the Pasha or his officers. There was ample enough food there to drive away hunger, I suppose, but I saw nothing even close to the delicacies that may commonly be found on the tables of Europe.

Eventually, after wandering throughout the palace unhindered, I returned to the room where we were being kept and found my fellow captives all already there.

As I sat there with my comrades, we experienced an unexpected moment of panicky terror, for all the terraces round about the palace were suddenly cover with a thousand kinds of people, all shouting “Aalla, illa, alla!” They were rubbing their faces with their hands, looking up at the sky, all turning in the direction of the sea. The continuation of this cry, without any forthcoming disorder or threat against me, persuaded me to go upstairs, where I stood gazing at the rest of the city. The houses there are raised in terraces and by degrees, because the city is built on the slope of a steep hill, so that the whole place is like an amphitheater which conveniently provides for the inhabitants a view of the vast expanse of the sea and the coastline, with its points, capes, and extraordinary eminences.

From my vantage point, I could see that there was not a single rooftop in that assembly of buildings that did not have upon it men, women, and small children, all contributing to the hubbub. My imagination, still tinged with a suspicion of panic, convinced me that these shouts from so many different people of all genders and ages must have been caused by some sort of the signal by a sentinel more clear-sighted than I, who by some means had discovered enemy vessels at sea, or saw a terrible meteor in the sky.

An old slave, however, informed me of the secret of the ceremony: they were shouts of joy rather than howls outrage or fear. That evening, because of the serenity of the sky, the moment of the appearance of the first star (and so the ending of their day’s Ramadan fast) was especially easy to discern, thus rendering the populace more excited than usual.

After this, we were given food and then went to be, but with uneasy hearts, for the next day we were to be taken before the Pasha.

__________

For the next installment of René du Chastelet des Boys’ adventures, see The Odyssey of René du Chastelet des Boys – Part 5.

For those who may be interested…

The above excerpt (which has been considerably abridged) comes from des Boys’ L’Odyssée ou diversité d’aventures, rencontres et voyages en Europe, Asie et Affrique, pp. 30 – 38.