There was great uneasiness among the soldiers, when Mustapha arrived in the camp. He was brought to his father’s tent, and there everything betokened peace. There was not a soldier on guard, no aide-de-camp, no policeman, nothing that could possibly alarm him and make him suspect treachery. But there were in the tent certain mutes—a favourite kind of servant among the Turks—strong and sturdy fellows, who had been appointed as his executioners. As soon as he entered the inner tent, they threw themselves upon him, and endeavoured to put the fatal noose around his neck. Mustapha, being a man of considerable strength, made a stout defence, and fought—not only for his life, but also for the throne; there being no doubt that if he escaped from his executioners, and threw himself among the Janissaries, the news of this outrage on their beloved prince would cause such pity and indignation, that they would not only protect him, but also proclaim him Sultan. Solyman felt how critical the matter was, being only separated by the linen hangings of his tent from the stage, on which this tragedy was being enacted. When he found that there was an unexpected delay in the execution of his scheme, he thrust out his head from the chamber of his tent, and glared on the mutes with fierce and threatening eyes; at the same time, with signs full of hideous meaning, he sternly rebuked their slackness. Hereon the mutes, gaining fresh strength from the terror he inspired, threw Mustapha down, got the bowstring round his neck, and strangled him. Shortly afterwards they laid his body on a rug in front of the tent, that the Janissaries might see the man they had desired as their Sultan. When this was noised through the camp, the whole army was filled with pity and grief; nor did one of them fail to come and gaze on that sad sight. Foremost of all were the Janissaries, so astounded and indignant that, had there been anyone to lead them, they would have flinched from nothing. But they saw their chosen leader lying lifeless on the ground. The only course left to them was to bear patiently that which could not be cured. So, sadly and silently, with many a tear, they retired to their tents, where they were at liberty to indulge their grief at the unhappy end of their young favourite. First they declared that Solyman was a dotard and a madman. They then expressed their abhorrence of the cruel treachery of the stepmother (Roxolana), and the wickedness of Roostem, who, between them, had extinguished the brightest light of the house of Othman. Thus they passed that day fasting, nor did they even touch water; indeed, there were some of them who remained without food for a still longer time.