Chapter 9 – The Black Stones
The moisture of the dungeon stones competed only with their gloom.
This was the lowest level of Yedikule Fortress—
A place where not even a sliver of sunlight dared to reach.
The ground was veiled in moss, the walls cracked with rot, and at the far end,
Chained from the ceiling by a single iron link,
Sat a broken man.
Recep Pasha.
No longer a Grand Vizier.
Now, just a slumped figure against cold stone.
There were no chains on his wrists—
But he was drowning in the weight of his own thoughts.
He leaned against the wall,
Eyes lost in the void.
Sometimes he drew in a deep breath,
Other times he whispered questions to himself—
"How?"
"How did I get caught?"
He had taken every precaution.
Placed men in every corner.
Calculated every move.
And yet…
The Sultan had brought him down with his own hands.
"When did Murad begin to suspect me?"
"Was it Kösem? Did Gevherhan give me away? Or was it… that Night?"
But it wasn't just one question gnawing at his mind—
Voices echoed inside, each one a different shade of fear.
"Where did I falter?"
"I had a great one behind me… he would save me…"
He closed his eyes.
But not even darkness could shield him now.
"Has he… abandoned me too?"
His head lowered.
In the silence of the dungeon, only the distant drip of water could be heard.
Then—
CLANG.
The iron door creaked open.
Recep Pasha lifted his head.
He recognized the shadow in the doorway.
Murad IV.
He wore no armor.
No sword at his side.
But the expression on his face was harder than a hundred guardsmen.
His footsteps were slow,
But each step struck the stones like a decree.
Recep straightened where he sat,
Toppled by fear more than chains.
His crippled leg trembled.
Murad said nothing.
Because sometimes a single gaze weighed more than all the stones in a dungeon.
He came closer,
Stopping directly in front of Recep.
He did not raise his hand.
He did not shout.
But when he finally spoke,
His voice struck the stones like chiseled judgment.
"You… looked down upon us. Upon our blood, our line."
Recep's eyes flinched.
Murad's voice carved into the stone:
"You gave your loyalty to those you thought greater than us.
You stopped walking beside us—
And became the man who whispered in shadows."
He stepped forward.
"And now here you are.
Before the Murad you once deemed small.
Helpless.
A prisoner."
"You now await only two words from my lips."
Recep tried to avert his eyes,
But Murad's gaze left no place to hide.
Then, the Sultan bent down to his level,
His voice low,
But sharper than steel—
"Tell me, Topal…"
"When did you first betray us?"
"Whom do you serve?"
"Kösem?"
"Or Leonardo, hiding beneath the Pope's robes in Italy?"
"Who?"
"Speak."
Silence filled the cell.
Even the stones seemed to hold their breath.
A bead of sweat rolled from Recep's forehead.
His pupils shrank—
But no answer came.
He stayed silent.
He sweated,
But his lips remained sealed.
His gaze fixed on a crack in the wall—
Fearful…
Or perhaps still clinging to a loyalty even he had forgotten.
Murad waited a moment.
Then turned his head slightly, jaw clenched.
Suddenly, his voice thundered:
"So you won't speak?!"
"You betrayed us—
The state, the people—
Me!"
"And still you stay silent?!"
His eyes flared with fury.
He pointed to the torch on the wall.
"Balibey!"
From the half-open door, Balibey entered—
Expression stone-cold,
Sword at his chest,
A red-hot iron brand in his hand.
Murad commanded:
"If he won't speak with his tongue,
Teach his wrist to speak instead."
Balibey approached.
Recep tried to pull back—
But with his limp leg, he couldn't flee.
Only a whimper escaped his lips.
And then the iron touched flesh—
A scream tore through the cell.
"AHHH—!"
The sound echoed.
Then—
Silence.
Recep collapsed.
Grinding his teeth.
But he could not hold out.
After a moment's silence—
His will snapped.
"Leonardo!"
That name fell from his lips like a stone dropped into a well.
"Leonardo… he gave me the orders… I merely… carried them out…"
At that moment, Kasım, standing nearby, closed his eyes.
The red stone of Süleyman's ring pulsed faintly.
Then he raised his head,
And spoke firmly:
"I heard it too.
The ring did not silence his words.
He spoke truth."
Murad narrowed his gaze at the broken man.
Took a deep breath.
"So… your path leads to Rome, Topal.
But your road ends here."
He turned, silent,
After a long gaze.
Then asked one final question—
Voice like ice:
"Who did you meet at the tavern that night?"
Recep looked away.
His body still trembling.
His lips dry.
He stared at the blood stain on the floor,
Then whispered at the wall:
"…Senyor Gritti."
Murad's brow tightened.
Recep's voice cracked:
"He… brought me the great one's… Leonardo's… commands.
I… only obeyed…"
And then—
His voice faltered.
Suddenly, his hands shot to his throat.
A gurgle erupted—
His chest heaved.
"Khh—ah—!"
Kasım stepped forward,
But Murad raised a hand.
Recep's skin went pale,
Lips turned purple,
Eyes wide with pain.
Poison.
His body convulsed.
Foam at the mouth.
Fingernails clawing at stone.
Murad turned away.
And whispered a single name:
"Kösem."
Recep made one last attempt to rise.
But his crippled leg gave way.
A groan—
A rattle—
And then stillness.
He was no longer a vizier.
Only a corpse.
Murad stared at him for a moment.
Then gave a quiet order to Balibey:
"Remove the body.
And let the name Gritti…
Reach Cafer's ears first."
Kasım looked down at the ring again.
There were no more lies left to hear.
The heavy gate of Yedikule clanged shut behind them.
Recep Pasha was now a shadow of the past.
Murad IV walked ahead.
Balibey followed behind.
Their minds still lingered in that dungeon.
After a time, Murad broke the silence.
"Gritti…"
Balibey bowed his head slightly.
"I know the name, my Sultan.
An old family.
Woven in trade, polished in diplomacy."
Murad did not stop walking.
"They've been in Istanbul since the days of Fatih.
Venetian origin.
But their roots run deep here.
They deal with the state, whisper secrets under the table.
Neither friend nor enemy."
Balibey stiffened.
"The in-betweeners…
They profit from us
While saluting the foreign."
Murad narrowed his eyes.
"This Gritti…
He is one of their blood."
Balibey paused.
"If he serves Leonardo…
Then some branches of that tree
Now grow toward foreign power, not the state."
Murad's voice was sharper.
"Then that branch… will be severed."
They walked on.
"Topal spoke…
But too late.
If this Gritti has woven his way into our trade and palace…
Then we are not dealing with a spy—
But a cancer."
Balibey bowed.
"We await your command, Sultan."
Murad said nothing at first.
Then looked to the sky.
Eyes narrowing.
"Send word to Cafer.
If Gritti's shadow is no longer in Istanbul…
Then his trail leads to Rome."
Their steps hardened.
Murad had already made his decision.
Treason could never rest on the shoulders of one man.
Its roots had to be torn out.
At the palace gates, Murad turned to Balibey.
His voice was not just command—
It was decree.
"Whoever in this palace has ties to Topal or Gritti…
Be they soldier, servant, or scholar…
Seize them.
Interrogate them.
Purge begins now, Balibey."
Balibey struck his chest with his right hand.
"As you command, my Sultan."
And without delay,
He vanished into shadow.
The scent of betrayal
Would now be hunted in the palace halls.
—
Murad took a few steps more,
Then stopped.
He breathed deep.
"Cafer."
As if summoned by breath alone,
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Cafer.
He pulled back his hood.
Eyes still steeped in night—
But his stance that of a soldier hearing a sacred command.
"Your will, my Sultan."
Murad turned to him.
His voice low—
Deadly precise.
"Go. Find Gritti.
If, by chance, he is still in Istanbul…
Bring him to me."
"Because…"
He looked far away—
As if tracking the man's scent through thought.
"If Gritti knew Topal would talk—
He may already be gone,
Returned to his master.
But if not…"
Cafer nodded once.
"Then I will follow the shadow, my Sultan."
Murad paused.
Then turned to Kasım, who had just approached.
His gaze was different now—
Deeper. More personal.
"You… are coming with me."
Kasım blinked.
"Where, my Sultan?"
Murad began walking—
Didn't even look back.
"To my mother's chambers."