The banner of the insurgents was waving in the midst of the piazza.  Abdi Pasha rode straight towards it.  The Janissaries remained rooted to the spot, staring after him with astonishment.

Suddenly Musli leaped forth from amongst them, and anticipating the Kapudan, seized the flag himself.

“Give me that banner, my son!” said Abdi with all the phlegm of a true seaman.

Musli had not yet sufficiently recovered to be able to answer articulately, but he shook his head by way of intimating that surrender it he would not.

“Give me that banner, Janissary!” cried Abdi once more, sternly regarding Musli straight between the eyes.

Instead of answering Musli simply proceeded to wind the banner round its pole.

“Give me that banner!” bellowed Abdi for the third time, with a voice of thunder, at the same time drawing his sword.

But now Musli twisted the pole round so that the mud-stained end which had been sticking in the earth rose high in the air, and he said: 

“I honour you, Abdi Pasha, and I will not hurt you if you go away.  I would rather see you fall in battle fighting against the Giaours, for you deserve to have a glorious name; but don’t ask me for this banner any more, for if you come a step nearer I will run you through the body with the dirty end.”

And at these words all the other Janissaries leaped to their feet and, drawing their swords, formed a glittering circle round the valiant Musli.

“I am sorry for you, my brave Janissaries,” observed the Kapudan Pasha sadly.

“And we are sorry for you, famous Kapudan Pasha!”

Then Abdi quitted the Etmeidan.  He perceived how the crowd parted before him everywhere as he advanced; but it also did not escape him that behind his back they immediately closed up again when he had passed.

“These people can only be brought to their senses by force of arms,” he said to himself as away he rode through the city, and nobody laid so much as a finger upon him.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in the camp outside, a great council of war was being held.  On the news of the insurrection which had been painted in the most alarming colours by the fugitive Kiaja and the Janissary Aga, the Sultan had called together the generals, the Ulemas, the Grand Vizier, the Chief Mufti, the Sheiks, and the Kodzhagians in the palace by the sea-shore.

An hour before in the same palace he had held a long deliberation with his aunt, the wise Sultana Khadija.

Good counsel was now precious indeed.

The Grand Vizier opined that the army, leaving the Sultan behind at Brusa, should set off at once towards Tebrif to meet the foe.  If it were found possible to unite with Abdullah Pasha all was won.  Stambul was to be left to itself, and the rebels allowed to do as they liked there.  Once let the external enemy be well beaten and then their turn would come too.