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his escorts had vanished. He was alone. José took a few cautious steps forward and examined his surroundings. Then, he climbed a few steps leading up towards a breathtaking view of the Bosphorus. On a stone bench beneath the shade of a vast chestnut tree, he sat looking out at the sea for what seemed to be eternity.
    “So you are Don José the Jew!” a voice sounded after some time.
    José winced. He forced himself to his feet.
    Before him stood a strapping young man with yellow hair and eyes the color of sand. Perched on the leather sleeve of his bulging forearm was a beady-eyed falcon with a grey spotted coat.
    “Yes, I am Don José Nissim.”
    The two men stood eye to eye. José cleared his throat but the man said nothing. He just stood there for a moment, before proceeding to examine everything about José, from his fingernails to his physique, from his shoes to the way he wrapped his turban.
    “Have you been drinking?” the man sniffed.
    “ Effendi , it was just a small amount earlier today, to celebrate the birth of my daughter.”
    “The birth of a child!” the man exclaimed. “Yes, certainly an occasion worthy of celebration.”
    “Can you tell me what this is about?” José spoke up against his better instincts.
    “This is an unofficial visit,” the man replied. “I am Selim. I believe you met with my father, the Sultan, several years ago?”
    Dumbfounded, José fell to his knees. “Your Highness, please excuse my ignorance.”
    Selim laughed and tossed back a whip of his yellow hair. “Come on. Get up.” He thrust his arm into the air sending his falcon into flight.
    Within an instant, the bird was making vast circles in the sky overhead.
    “You’re probably wondering why you’re here.”
    José came to his feet.
    “I hope I haven’t startled you. It’s just that, I need someone I can trust, and Doctor Hamon tells me that you are a man that can be trusted.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
    “Come, José. Sit.” He took a seat on the bench and gestured for José to do the same. “You see, my father the Sultan is getting old. He will step down soon and I will be crowned emperor.”
    “ Effendi ?”
    “When I inherit the throne, I will also be inheriting the tangled mess of international diplomacy that comes with it. I’m going to need someone who is familiar with European affairs.”
    An awkward silence passed between them.
    “Me?” José questioned.
    “Naturally!”
    “But I’ve never worked in politics.”
    “And I have never been outside the Empire!” Selim threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know how to deal with these Europeans. We could rule all the world, bring our citizens peace and bounty for ten thousand lifetimes, and they’d still call us barbarians.” He leaned toward José. “But you, you have lived among them. You understand them. You’re one of them.”
    “That may have been true, a long time ago, but—”
    “Doctor Hamon tells me that you were a frequent visitor of European courts before your arrival in Istanbul, that you are acquainted with many of the powerful ruling families throughout Europe. Is that so?”
    “I suppose it is. I was just a child, raised alongside Spanish and Portuguese nobility. At times I was sent further off, to the Low Countries, where I held court with a few lowly princes.”
    “So you have seen much of Europe?”
    “It was a very long time ago.”
    “And what of William of the Netherlands? Is it true you spent time as a child at Dutch court? Did you happen to come across him then?”
    “He taught me how to play cricket.”
    “Cricket?”
    José shook his head. “So much time has passed. I doubt he would even remember me. Why do you ask about William?”
    “My sources tell me there is a deep discord in Antwerp. The people are tired of the Spanish ruling over them. Collecting taxes but offering nothing but tyranny in return. After this year’s bad harvest, talk of a rebellion is brewing.”
    “Yes, but how