The People's Will by Jasper Kent Page A

that he knew a lot.
    ‘Only by destroying Ascalon can Ţepeş be overcome,’ said the sultan.
    ‘And if I could deliver Ascalon to you?’ asked Iuda.
    ‘It’s been missing for centuries,’ said the Grand Vizier. ‘What would you know of it?’
    ‘I was once Ţepeş’s closest ally.’
    ‘So why would you betray him now?’
    ‘I’ve already betrayed him,’ explained Iuda. ‘That is why I fear him. That is why I would have you deal with him.’
    ‘He’s pursuing you?’
    ‘He would, if he knew where I was.’
    ‘You’re certain that he doesn’t?’
    ‘Quite certain,’ replied Iuda, hoping he spoke the truth.
    Ibrahim Edhem Pasha leaned forward and whispered into the sultan’s ear. The sultan looked at him for a moment and then nodded.
    ‘Go now,’ said the Grand Vizier. ‘You will be summoned.’
    Iuda had turned to leave, but the meeting was not quite finished. It was the sultan who had the last word.
    ‘And mind you don’t feed during your stay in the city. These are my people. My duty is to protect them.’
    Iuda departed, fully aware of the sultan’s meaning.
    Two days later he received a message from Ibrahim Edhem Pasha requesting a private meeting, ‘in the Sunken Palace, away from the sultan’s ears’.
    The Sunken Palace was an ancient Roman cistern, built beneath the city by the Emperor Justinian to store drinking water. The entrance was not far from Hagia Sophia, and a safe distance from the Dolmabahçe Palace, on the other side of the Golden Horn. It was half an hour before midnight, the time for which Edhem had requested the meeting. Iuda descended the stone steps.
    The space below was cool. There wasn’t much water in there now, scarcely enough to reach his knees, but beneath that were centuries of accumulated mud and silt that could suck a man down and drown him as effectively as the water above. Huge columns rose up out of the water to support the arched vaults of the roof, upon which in turn the city stood. Some had collapsed, leaving stepping stones across which the great, dark space could be traversed. A few of the pillars had oil lamps hanging from them which gave illumination in some places, but left deep shadows in others. Even with Iuda’s heightened ability to see in the dark, he could not penetrate the gloom to see the far end of the cistern. But the fact that the lamps had been lit at all showed that he was expected.
    He skipped from stone to stone into the darkness. Soon he was near the centre of the vast chamber. None of the walls was visible. All was silent.
    ‘Edhem!’ he shouted. ‘Ibrahim Edhem Pasha!’
    His voice echoed, reflecting from the water, from the walls, from the columns and from the vaults, throwing itself back at him. It seemed like a minute before all was silent again, and from the evanescent sound emerged the quiet ripple of a boat breaking through the still water. Soon a figure began to materialize out of the darkness. It was the Grand Vizier, a long pole in his hand as he pushed the low, flat boat towards Iuda. The intended impression would seem to be that of Charon taking the dead across theStyx, but Iuda was reminded more of his days at Oxford, punting on the Cherwell.
    ‘Have you followed His Imperial Majesty’s prohibition?’ asked the pasha.
    ‘Of course,’ replied Iuda. He had not consumed any blood since arriving in the city. It would have been foolish to so directly contradict the wishes of his host.
    ‘Then you will be hungry.’ Edhem nodded downwards and Iuda saw that in the bow of the vessel was huddled a young man, bound and gagged. He wore the uniform of a Russian
ryadovoy
.
    ‘Eat!’ the Turk commanded.
    Iuda was not starving, but he did not know when he would next get the chance to feed. He wondered if the offering of a Russian soldier was a test, to see whose side he was really on, but they must know that even if Iuda were working for the tsar, he would have no qualms over the death of one of his subjects. The Grand