us. A phalanx of palace guards rushed to the gate. More guards dashed toward our position on the stairs, yelling, ‘Get back! Get back!’ before pushing us through the gate, back into the Third Courtyard and slamming the latticed doors shut behind us.
But my eyes had already glimpsed the dreadful image that the guards had not wished anyone to see.
By the dying light of that first firework, I had seen the hideous corpse of a man—enormously fat, naked and bearing many stab wounds—lying motionless beneath the surface of the shallow reflecting pool at the base of the stairs.
Even in that brief instant, I could tell who it was.
With its broad face, many chins, its distinctive black hair with silver tips above the ears and its bloated obese belly, the corpse was that of the visiting cardinal from Rome, none other than the Pope’s brother, Cardinal Farnese.
And even when seen through the rippling water of the shallow pool, I could see that the lower half of Farnese’s face had been monstrously mutilated, the skin wrenched away so as to expose the flesh under his cheeks, the white curve of his jawbone and every single one of his teeth.
BISHOP
IN THE EARLIEST FORMS of chess, the piece that we know as the bishop was actually an elephant.
It was only when chess swept across Europe between the 10th and 12th centuries that the elephants became men of faith, reflecting the powerful role played by the Catholic Church in medieval politics.
As a chess piece, the bishop is unique: it can only move diagonally and is thus restricted to squares of a single colour. Some have suggested this reflects the wiles of medieval churchmen who, lacking military power, could only ever act circuitously, never directly.
Interestingly, in France, the elephant piece was transformed into le fou , the jester or the fool.
From: Chess in the Middle Ages ,
Tel Jackson (W.M. Lawry & Co., London, 1992)
I have no desire to make windows into men’s souls.
– QUEEN ELIZABETH I
THE HOURS AFTER THE BANQUET
ELSIE, ZUBAIDA AND I returned to the Third Courtyard, silent and stunned.
‘You’re back?’ Mr Ascham remarked. ‘So soon?’
I tried to answer him but found myself unable to speak.
I was in a state of considerable dismay. It was not so much the sight of the dead body—I had seen hangings and beheadings on numerous occasions in England—but rather the cruel display of it.
The hideous image of the cardinal’s submerged and spread-eagled corpse—and the grotesque skinning of the lower half of his face—was seared into my mind’s eye. Clearly, the killer had wanted the Sultan’s guests to see his grim handiwork, but the palace guards had acted quickly and it seemed that only Elsie, Zubaida and I had been witness to the foul sight.
At last, I found my tongue. ‘Sir . . . I . . . I mean, we . . . we saw—’
A loud bang made me jump, startled. More fireworks were launched from other places around our courtyard, lighting up the sky and making further conversation impossible. The banquet crowd, unaware that their vantage point should be any different, clapped in delight at the spectacle.
As the rockets exploded and the crowd clapped, I glanced at the Sultan’s stage and saw a guard appear there and whisper in the ear of the Grand Vizier who—after a brief look of shock—whispered in the ear of the Sultan.
The Sultan cocked his head ever so slightly before resuming his happy observation of the fireworks display, giving away nothing.
Soon after, he left the stage, and with the departure of the sovereign, the banquet ended and gradually the Third Courtyard cleared as all the guests retired to their rooms for the night, greatly impressed by the dinner, the entertainment and the fireworks the Sultan had put on.
We returned to our quarters in the south pavilion. Mr Giles and Mr Ascham talked animatedly while I walked behind in silence. When we arrived at our lodgings, Mr Giles retired to his room while Elsie disappeared into the little
But my eyes had already glimpsed the dreadful image that the guards had not wished anyone to see.
By the dying light of that first firework, I had seen the hideous corpse of a man—enormously fat, naked and bearing many stab wounds—lying motionless beneath the surface of the shallow reflecting pool at the base of the stairs.
Even in that brief instant, I could tell who it was.
With its broad face, many chins, its distinctive black hair with silver tips above the ears and its bloated obese belly, the corpse was that of the visiting cardinal from Rome, none other than the Pope’s brother, Cardinal Farnese.
And even when seen through the rippling water of the shallow pool, I could see that the lower half of Farnese’s face had been monstrously mutilated, the skin wrenched away so as to expose the flesh under his cheeks, the white curve of his jawbone and every single one of his teeth.
BISHOP
IN THE EARLIEST FORMS of chess, the piece that we know as the bishop was actually an elephant.
It was only when chess swept across Europe between the 10th and 12th centuries that the elephants became men of faith, reflecting the powerful role played by the Catholic Church in medieval politics.
As a chess piece, the bishop is unique: it can only move diagonally and is thus restricted to squares of a single colour. Some have suggested this reflects the wiles of medieval churchmen who, lacking military power, could only ever act circuitously, never directly.
Interestingly, in France, the elephant piece was transformed into le fou , the jester or the fool.
From: Chess in the Middle Ages ,
Tel Jackson (W.M. Lawry & Co., London, 1992)
I have no desire to make windows into men’s souls.
– QUEEN ELIZABETH I
THE HOURS AFTER THE BANQUET
ELSIE, ZUBAIDA AND I returned to the Third Courtyard, silent and stunned.
‘You’re back?’ Mr Ascham remarked. ‘So soon?’
I tried to answer him but found myself unable to speak.
I was in a state of considerable dismay. It was not so much the sight of the dead body—I had seen hangings and beheadings on numerous occasions in England—but rather the cruel display of it.
The hideous image of the cardinal’s submerged and spread-eagled corpse—and the grotesque skinning of the lower half of his face—was seared into my mind’s eye. Clearly, the killer had wanted the Sultan’s guests to see his grim handiwork, but the palace guards had acted quickly and it seemed that only Elsie, Zubaida and I had been witness to the foul sight.
At last, I found my tongue. ‘Sir . . . I . . . I mean, we . . . we saw—’
A loud bang made me jump, startled. More fireworks were launched from other places around our courtyard, lighting up the sky and making further conversation impossible. The banquet crowd, unaware that their vantage point should be any different, clapped in delight at the spectacle.
As the rockets exploded and the crowd clapped, I glanced at the Sultan’s stage and saw a guard appear there and whisper in the ear of the Grand Vizier who—after a brief look of shock—whispered in the ear of the Sultan.
The Sultan cocked his head ever so slightly before resuming his happy observation of the fireworks display, giving away nothing.
Soon after, he left the stage, and with the departure of the sovereign, the banquet ended and gradually the Third Courtyard cleared as all the guests retired to their rooms for the night, greatly impressed by the dinner, the entertainment and the fireworks the Sultan had put on.
We returned to our quarters in the south pavilion. Mr Giles and Mr Ascham talked animatedly while I walked behind in silence. When we arrived at our lodgings, Mr Giles retired to his room while Elsie disappeared into the little
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