The Lake of Sorrows by Rovena Cumani, Thomas Hauge Page A

door. Her voice failed her, so she did not answer the Bey.
    The young man leaned closer. “Why did not she come?”
    Again, Chryssie shivered and she half-raised her arms to protect herself from the blows that would surely follow a Bey’s disappointment.
    None came. He simply waited.
    Now Chryssie looked up, full of wonder. “She was ready to, Muhtar Bey, but … ” The Vaya drew a deep, shivering breath. “But her husband just returned home from Genoa. She sent me to let you know this and ask your forgiveness. S-surely you understand?”
    Muhtar sagged even more. “Are you telling me the truth?”
    His voice was so sad that Chryssie, for a moment, felt like a nurse with a grieving child. She began to reach out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, then realized what she was doing and yanked it back. “I speak the truth, Muhtar Bey. You can easily see for yourself first thing in the morning, once Dimitros Vassiliou appears in Yannina. You are not … not angry with me?”
    Muhtar sighed so deeply it brought tears to the corners of her eyes. Then he looked up in sudden hope. “Will he leave soon?”
    Chryssie was no longer cowering; she was eyeing the young man with something like wonder in her face. Where was the fierce beast that a son of the Pasha must surely be? A spark of courage ignited a spark of hope. If the opiate of a bit of hope could stall the beast’s cub … “Dimitros Vassiliou has never been known to stay long in Yannina. He may rest for a few days and then he goes back to Venice or Genoa.”
    Muhtar sighed again and she began to feel just a bit exasperated with the lad - but she still had to wipe away a rebellious tear. He smiled wistfully at the sight. “You truly love your lady, do you not? I can tell.”
    She raised her gaze to meet his and nodded in surprise. “I could not love her more if she were my own. I have raised her myself and her life is my life. And since her husband is rarely at home, I am all she has in this world.”
    “Then go.” Muhtar turned away. “The lake’s mists are full and cold at this hour. You should return home before you endanger your health. I would not want to rob your lady of her only companion.”
    Chryssie bowed hurriedly and started towards the door. His voice stopped her. “What is your name?”
    She froze. “Wh-why would my name be worthy of your interest, my Bey?”
    He smiled again. “I would like to know to whom I owe my thanks.”
    “My name, then, is Chryssie, my Bey.”
    “Then thank you, lady Chryssie. Thank you very much. For braving the streets of Yannina at night to let me know of my misfortune. And for sparing your mistress the danger.”

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XXVIII
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    C hryssie met Froshenie in the yard of the Vassiliou house. The Vaya was still unable to control her astonishment and her outburst was almost delirious.
    “It is a miracle, my lady! Another miracle, my Virgin Mary.”
    Froshenie jumped towards her and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Do not shout! Dimitros will wake up and hear you. He sleeps like a log, he is exhausted from his travels, but your shouting could wake the dead!”
    Chryssie was oblivious, blabbering through the fingers over her mouth. “Can you believe it? Muhtar. Alhi’s son. He
thanked
me and asked me my name? Who? Muhtar! And if you could see his expression. Oh, manly as any man, but shy and sweet like a boy, too. God help me. Out of this world, I am telling you.”
    “Please do not shout.” Froshenie pressed her hand tighter over her Vaya’s mouth and looked towards the house.
    “Forgive me, my sweet.” Gritting her teeth with the effort, Chryssie fought down her agitation. “But I am still in such awe and surprise. An of whom? Muhtar. To thank me and ask me my name. I was expecting to get beheaded or impaled instead. Do you not see?” Her tone went high-pitched again and Froshenie almost fell on her to cover her mouth.
    “Vaya, for God’s sake control yourself. If you wake Dimitros he