Lost Love Found (34 page)

“There, m’lady. You look beautiful—even if the clothes is foreign,” Nelda observed.

By the time they were ready to leave, Nelda had changed into a pretty blue caftan of her own, for at the bottom of the trunk were several plain but lovely garments and resting on them a piece of parchment with the words “For Nelda” written on it.

Murrough was awaiting them on deck, and he nodded with approval at the women’s garb. Each was clad in an all-covering yashmak of dark blue silk. With a grin he affixed a veil across his cousin’s face. It, too, was of dark blue silk, and when he had finished, nothing could be seen of Valentina except her mutinous amethyst eyes. Nelda, however, found her garb exciting.

“ ’Tis just like being in a fairy tale, m’lady,” she said, giggling.

“I do not think I can breathe in this thing,” Lady Barrows grumbled.

There were three well-mounted horses on the dock for Murrough, Padraic, and Tom. Beside them was an elegant litter, gilded and studded with precious jewels and hung with coral silk curtains. Valentina and Nelda were helped inside, where they found the litter awash in turquoise and coral velvet cushions. Eight black slaves, matched perfectly in height and build, all garbed in turquoise pantaloons with magnificent jewel-studded collars around their necks, lifted the litter as if it were weightless. Quickly they moved through the crowded docks.

Valentina longed to peek out from between the curtains and see what she could, up close, but Murrough’s warnings about Islam prevailed. She did, however, loosen her veil on one side so that she might breathe more easily. She was amazed by the ease with which the litter bearers padded along in the afternoon heat, through streets that wound up a hill to Balata, the Jewish quarter. Throughout the journey, Nelda sat, her eyes wide with half-fright. For once, to her mistress’s enormous relief, she was silent.

The bearers stopped, gently setting the litter down. They drew the curtains back, and Valentina quickly attached her veil again. She accepted the hand that was offered her and stepped from the litter into a yellow-tiled courtyard. A tall, bearded young man in a long, striped robe, a small round cap on the back of his head, greeted Murrough, Padraic, and Tom. Then he came forward to greet Valentina.

“Lady Barrows, I am Simon Kira. I welcome you to our house.”

“You speak English!”

“Indeed, my lady, I do, for I spent three years in London with the English Kiras, a year with the French Kiras in Paris, a year with the Hamburg branch of the family, and another year in Moscow. God willing, I will one day be head of the House of Kira, so it was necessary that I learn all I could of our more important banking centers.”

“Is your grandmother not in good health, then, sir?” Valentina asked.

Simon Kira’s warm brown eyes twinkled with good humor. “Esther Kira is my great-grandmother, Lady Barrows, and she is, as always, in excellent health. When Yahweh has taken her to his bosom, my father, Eli, will head the House of Kira. My grandfather, Solomon, died four years ago. No, it will be many years, God willing, before I must shoulder the responsibilities of this family. But come! I shall not live to see that day if I do not bring you to Esther at once. I can, even from here, hear her foot tapping with impatience.”

“What language will I speak with her, Simon Kira?” Valentina politely inquired. “Murrough taught me Turkish during our voyage.”

“Esther is fluent in French, Lady Barrows,” he answered. “Gentlemen, you must come with us, for Esther’s quarters are separate from the women’s quarters. She does not like being denied access to visitors.”

They followed Simon Kira from the lovely courtyard with its blue-and-yellow-tiled fountain. The house was shut off from the street by a windowless outer wall and two sturdy, iron-bound oak gates. The Kira home rose three stories from the main level and, unlike the majority of houses in Istanbul, which were built of wood, the Kira house was made of white-washed brick. Esther Kira’s quarters were on the main floor, overlooking the gardens that in turn overlooked the city. The Kira house sat upon the highest point of Balata, and because it was so clearly visible, had been cleverly designed to appear a bit more modest than it was. The large wall blocked the gardens and many windows from view. The Kiras knew better than to flaunt their wealth. Still, the house was imposing. And the interior was splendid. The double oak doors into Esther Kira’s apartments were overlaid with gold leaf, and the inside of the matriarch’s salon was a testament to luxury. A tiled fountain poured forth scented water. The conical hood over the fireplace was of silver, as were the six ruby-glass lamps. The windows facing the gardens were actually glass doors extending from floor to ceiling, which gave Esther access to her beloved gardens. The carpets on the polished wooden floors were so thick that feet sank into them. The furniture was of ebony and other precious woods, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and semiprecious stones.

In the center of all this splendor sat a small woman with snow-white hair and lively black eyes. She was dressed in a heavily embroidered gown of peacock-blue silk, and decked in rich gold jewelry except for her hands. She wore no rings other than an enormous diamond that sparkled with red and blue fires.

“So,” she addressed them in a surprisingly strong voice, “you have finally managed to bring our visitors to me, Simon. Well, well, do not stand there! Introduce them to me!” Her dark eyes darted from face to face.

Simon Kira smiled lovingly at the old woman. It was obvious that he adored her. He introduced the three men, and Esther greeted them cordially, but her gaze kept moving to the two veiled women.

“Take your yashmaks off,” she finally commanded impatiently, and when they had laid the garments aside and turned back to her, she studied them both carefully. Finally, her eyes on Valentina’s face, she said, “You are far more beautiful than your mother ever was, daughter of Marjallah.”

For a long moment, Valentina said nothing. At last she stepped forward and knelt before Esther Kira. Taking the old woman’s hands in hers, she kissed them both. “Thank you, Esther Kira,” she said quietly. “Thank you for saving my mother’s life so many years ago.”

“Get up, child, and sit by me.” Esther Kira smiled at her. She waved the others to seats.

“Marjallah. I know that was what my mother was called here,” Valentina said. “What does it mean?”

“It means a gift from the sea, and as your mother was brought over the sea from Algiers to the sultan’s seraglio, that is what she was named. But tell me, child, what is it you seek? Why have you made the long journey from your home to Istanbul?”

“I have come to learn the truth of my paternal parentage, Esther Kira,” Valentina responded nervously, then plunged into an explanation of her plight.

Esther Kira listened carefully, and when Valentina had finally finished speaking, she said, “Child, child! You seek the impossible! Only Yahweh himself knows the answer to your question.”

“I cannot be satisfied until I have learned the truth, Esther Kira, and I pray I will be able to learn the truth some how, some way,” Valentina replied firmly. “I know that the wicked sultan who enslaved my mother is long dead, and his mother as well, but I also know that his favorite, the current Sultan Valide is living. I would speak with Safiye, Esther Kira. She knew Sultan Murad best, and I believe she may be able to tell me if I am his daughter. When I decided to make this journey, I knew I might return home without being certain who my father was, but I must try.”

The old woman shook her head. “It will not be easy, child,” she said. “Safiye was always a high-strung creature. Only the Valide Nur-U-Banu’s firm hand kept her in check, and that clever lady died nineteen years ago. Since then Safiye’s power has grown and grown. She is not the woman your mother knew. She is greedy and venal and lives for two things only—gold and power.

“When Nur-U-Banu died, Safiye hoped that she could regain Murad’s complete attention, but the sultan, having developed a taste for other women, was not of a mind to change his ways. Why should he, when the empire and all the surrounding lands were continually combed for the fairest and most nubile of virgins for his pleasure alone? Safiye grew older, but Murad forgot the years, for he was constantly surrounded by youth. Mind you, the sultan always gave Safiye the respect due the mother of his heir, but it was not enough. Safiye grew terribly embittered.

“Other sons were born to Murad, nineteen in addition to Safiye’s son, Mehmed, and eighty-three daughters, twenty-seven of whom are living. Prince Mehmed, the heir, was indulged and spoiled dreadfully by his mother, who had no one else to love but her son. When he was denied anything, the boy’s temper was terrible, dreadful in its intensity. He reminded me then of his great-grandmother, Khurrem. Prince Mehmed was sent away from Istanbul to govern a province. When Sultan Murad died, the boy, by then a man, was quickly brought back to the city and proclaimed sultan. With that, Safiye Kadin became the Sultan Valide Safiye, the most powerful woman in the empire. Can you guess what her first act was?”

Valentina shook her head.

“She advised her son to murder his nineteen half brothers. Mehmed obeyed her. He sent for his siblings, who ranged in age from eleven to infancy. He assured them that they had nothing to fear from him. He said he wished them to be circumcised, for they had not yet been. After each boy was circumcised, he was led into a room for what was supposed to be a ritual bath. Instead, the executioners awaited. Every one of those innocents was strangled!

“Her bloodlust not sated, Safiye instructed her son to dispose of the seven of his father’s women who were pregnant and so those poor girls were sewn into silken sacks and drowned in the Marmara off the Prince’s island.

“Her son’s position secured, Safiye then secured her own. Murad’s entire harem was sent to the Eski Serai, the old palace. Safiye began to populate the seraglio with her own creatures. Sultan Mehmed is completely under her control, for she understands and feeds his lusts, even as Nur-U-Banu fed Murad’s. Mehmed is a strange man, given to great kindnesses and even greater cruelties. He not only murdered his brothers but he had his own eldest son, Prince Mahmud, and Mahmud’s mother and her favorite companions all killed as well.

“Are you certain now that you wish to meet the woman who produced such a son? Besides, Safiye does not know that your mother survived her execution. Though it happened twenty-three years ago and in another reign, I cannot be certain how she will react when she learns the truth. She was your mother’s friend, so she may be glad. For some reason, your mother never made Safiye jealous, as others did. Perhaps, just perhaps, if you truly desire it, it can be arranged.”

“I must go to Kaffa first,” replied Valentina. “I would speak with the family of Javid Khan in regard to this matter. That will give you time, Esther Kira, for I will be gone for two or three months. Perhaps after I go to Kaffa, it will not even be necessary for me to discuss this with the valide. Although I must leave for Kaffa almost immediately, when I return I should appreciate the opportunity to pay my respects to Safiye. We have brought a message from Safiye’s brother that their father has recovered from his illness. Our message can be my excuse to gain an audience with her.

“If it is necessary for me to speak with her about my parentage, can I not claim that you knew nothing of my mother’s rescue or who I am? After all, I do not look like my mother. I shall tell the valide that an English ship was passing by as the executioner dropped the sack into the sea and the sailors aboard the ship, being familiar with that form of execution, dove in and and rescued my mother, whom they then returned home. After all, my mother’s husband is part of an important trading family. Learning her identity, the captain anticipated a reward! It is not necessary that your role in the rescue be revealed, Esther Kira.”

“Aiiii! You may not look like your mother, but you have her quick wit, child! That is just the sort of story Safiye would believe. Accidental rescue, and no one to blame! Her dear friend safe, praise Yahweh. Or Allah. Or whoever. A wonderfully romantic tale, and for all her wickedness, Safiye is a fool for a fairy tale! Aye, it will be just the thing, but for one alteration. Safiye must be told that I know who you are because you came to me today and told me. This will ensure that she will agree to see you. She is like a child that way. She will be intrigued and fascinated by it all. Do not, however, tell her that I helped in your mother’s rescue. No, let all of that seem a wonderful accident of fate.”

“But how will you see her, Esther?” asked her great-grandson. “You have not left this house in three years. Your body is far too frail, and Sarai will have my head if I even suggest that you have called for your litter.”

“Heh, heh!” the old lady cackled. “Do not fear, Simon, I shall not endanger you with Sarai. The valide will come to me if I invite her. I have remained her friend in spite of it all, for when one commits to a friendship in this life, one accepts one’s friend, warts and all, for do our friends not accept us the same way? Heh! Heh!” She chuckled to herself.

“Then I shall go on to Kaffa, safe in the knowledge that the valide will invite me into her presence when I return,” said Valentina.

“As God wills it, child,” came the reply. “Now, our business over with, you must tell me of your mother’s good fortunes these many years. Simon, take the gentlemen away and discuss your business with Captain O’Flaherty. After they have had refreshment, you may return.”

When the men had gone, Esther Kira instructed her servants to bring fruit sherbets, mint tea, and an assortment of honey cakes. As they sat indulging their appetites, Valentina related to Esther Kira the path her mother’s life had taken during the past twenty-three years.

“Seven children,” said Esther approvingly. “Your mother did well by your father. And now she is to be a grandmother. It is hard for me to believe.”

“It is hard for me to believe also, Esther Kira, for my mother has not changed very much over the years. She has always seemed so sensible and … and peaceful. Can you imagine my shock when I learned of her adventures in Istanbul!” exclaimed Valentina.