But our journey has been long and we must shortly rest. There was now only one stage, namely Baglison (Baglijah), between us and our destination, Amasia, which last we reached on April 7, thirty days after our departure from Constantinople. As we drew near we were met by some Turks, who came to congratulate us on our arrival, and to do us the compliment of escorting us into the city.
Amasia is the chief town of Cappadocia, and there the governor of the province is wont to hold his courts, and to keep the main body of his troops. But even from the time of Bajazet the place seemed in some mysterious fashion to be associated with misfortune, and that this idea was not groundless is proved by the miserable end of Mustapha. Strabo tells us that this was his native place. The town lies between two ranges of hills, and the river Iris (Yeshil-Irmak) flows through its centre; so that both banks are covered with houses, which rise gradually up the sides of the hills, like the tiers of seats in a theatre; every part of the town therefore commands a view of the river, and those who live on one side of the town are completely exposed to the eyes of those who live on the other. It is, indeed, so hemmed in by hills that there is only one road by which carriages and beasts of burden can enter or leave the city.
On the night of our arrival there was a great fire, which the Janissaries extinguished after their own fashion by pulling down the neighbouring buildings. How it arose I cannot say, but there is no doubt that the soldiers have good reasons for wishing for fires, for, inasmuch as they are employed to put them out, and in most cases this is only effected by pulling down the neighbouring houses, as I told you before, they pillage, not only the goods and chattels of the people whose houses are on fire, but also those of their neighbours as well. So the soldiers themselves are often guilty of incendiarism in order to get an opportunity of plundering the houses.
I remember an instance of this when I was at Constantinople. There had been a great many fires, and it was quite certain that they were not accidental, yet the incendiaries were never caught. Most people laid the blame on Persian spies; but at length, after a more careful investigation, it was discovered that they were the work of marines from ships lying in the harbour, who set fire to the houses in order to cover a raid on the goods of the neighbourhood.