Lost Love Found (48 page)

“Seven days later, an admiral’s galley brought Mehmed home. It was a gray, drizzily winter’s morning. Although the wind was light, it was the kind of damp cold that cuts into a person’s bones.” She sighed. “The new sultan disembarked from his vessel and, in gratitude for his safe arrival, freed all of the galley slaves aboard the ship. Then he ordered messengers to go to Aleppo to obtain a half-million hyacinth bulbs to be planted at the very spot where he had landed.

“At the first sighting of the new sultan’s galley, word of Murad’s death was publicly announced throughout the city. In the seraglio, Murad’s favorites were already wailing. The historians will call it mourning, but it was really fear of what was to come. They knew, those poor creatures, even if they did not dare voice their fright.

“Mehmed dressed in royal purple before leaving his ship. He followed his father’s cypresswood coffin, which was entirely covered with cloth of gold, atop which sat a great belt of diamonds. The procession made its way through the entire city. Mehmed did not ride. He walked, the captains of his personal guard surrounding him, holding palm leaves over him. All of the men of the court followed, dressed in black mourning. As a sign of respect, they wore unusually small turbans on their heads.

“The streets were packed with onlookers, for Istanbul has always been a social city and a sultan’s funeral is a great event. The procession ended at the Great Mosque, which, before the conquest, was the Christian church of St. Sophia.

“After Murad was properly buried, Mehmed hurried to see his mother. They had not seen each other in twelve years! Mehmed had been seventeen, still a boy, when he left Istanbul. Now he was a fully grown man of twenty-nine. There was no one else party to that meeting, but when it was over, Mehmed immediately saw to the execution of his nineteen younger brothers. There are those who said he wept at having to invoke the law of Zānan-nāmeh, but invoke it he did, telling those innocent little boys—the eldest was only eleven—that they had nothing to fear from him. He embraced each of them, then saw that they were, in accordance with the laws of Islam, circumcised. After that, they were taken one by one into an adjoining room and bow-strung.

“Safiye was behind it all. She wanted no rival to her son’s throne! She wanted her revenge on those young women who had taken her place in Murad’s bed, and oh, what a revenge it was! What a terrible and exact retribution Safiye took against those women who had taken Murad’s total love and attention from her.

“Mehmed, to give him credit, inspected those sad little corpses in their coffins before they were taken to be buried with their father. When he was officially notified of his brothers’ deaths, the notification written in white ink on black paper, he wept genuine tears of grief and ordered a full state funeral to which all persons of high rank were ordered to attend. I have heard him say many times that he hated disposing of those poor little boys, but what else was he to do with them? Nineteen living threats to his reign was too many threats, and by then he already had sons of his own.

“The following day, Safiye, whose son had officially proclaimed her Sultan Valide, sent all of Murad’s women to live out the long and lonely days of their lives at the Eski Serai, the old palace, where my dear friend, the valide Cyra Hafise of blessed memory, lived. All but the seven unfortunates who were with child by Murad. These poor girls were sewn into silken sacks and drowned. Free now of those she believed were her enemies and those who had offended her over the years, Safiye set about to corrupt her own son in precisely the same manner as Nur-U-Banu had corrupted Murad. She intended to gain full power for herself.

“Mehmed had a single kadin, Sa’adet, which means felicity in your language. She was the mother of his eldest son, Mamud. Mehmed had sworn to remain true to her alone, even as Murad had been monogamous with Safiye for all those years. Safiye, however, like Nur-U-Banu before her, did not want any rivals, particularly her son’s only kadin. Safiye knew better than most the influence that might be wielded by Sa’adet, had the kadin chosen to wield it. Sa’adet was not an ambitious woman, however. Her entire world revolved about Mehmed and their son. So, while Safiye had her carefully watched, she left her in peace for a time.”

“Tell Valentina about Chiarezza,” said the lovely Shohannah. “She is part of Safiye’s story, too.”

“Chiarezza!” Esther Kira spat the name scornfully. “She claims to be a Jewess, yet she does not live in the ghetto, and she has neither husband nor father nor brothers nor sons to protect her. She is a spy for the Venetian ambassador, and for Catherine de’ Medici as well! The only way she can obtain entry to the harem to gather her information and to talk with Safiye is by pretending to be one of the women who bring their goods to the harem to sell to the ladies of the sultan’s household, as I once brought in goods.”

“Esther is angry because she can no longer go to the Yeni Serai to conduct her business and to gossip,” whispered Sarai to Valentina.

“I hear you, Sarai!” the old lady snapped. “My ears, at least, have not failed me. I am angry that my uncooperative body prevents me from going to the palace. I may lose my influence with Safiye by not being visible to her. If that happens, where will this family be? I have lived through the reign of Sultan Bajazet, son of the conqueror of Constantinople, this city we now call Istanbul. I have lived through the reigns of his descendants, Selim I; of Suleiman, whom you in the West called the Magnificent but we called the Lawgiver; of his son, Selim II; of Murad III; and now of Mehmed III!

“In the reign of the first Selim, we Kiras were exempted from paying taxes to the state forever. That, in large part, has been responsible for helping us amass our great wealth, and has allowed us to extend our banking empire throughout all of western Europe. There is a Kira doing business in every important country and every important city. During all that time, I have been in evidence, making friends of the Ottomen women, aiding them when they needed it, keeping them in our debt in order that the promise made us by Selim I be kept.

“How long will a promise made us so long ago, by a sultan whose memory has long faded, be kept? What will happen when I am no longer here to see that it is kept? When my influence cannot be counted on and when I am forgotten? I know that you all go to the palace with your wares, even though you do not have to do such things. Yet none of you has managed to make friends with Safiye, for you are all too young and too pretty. This homely Chiarezza creature has wormed her way into the Valide’s confidence.”

“Only because she carries the valide’s messages to the Venetian ambassador” Sarai said soothingly, “and her secret letters to Catherine de’ Medici, dear Esther. Did not Safiye herself come to see you two months ago after Valentina had departed for the Crimea? Did she not agree to see Valentina on your request? The Valide has not forgotten you. You fret too much.”

“If I fret, it is with good cause,” Esther Kira replied sharply to Sarai. “I have known Safiye practically her entire life. With her, it is out of sight, out of mind. She has no loyalties to anyone except herself, Sarai, and if she came to visit me when I asked her, it was because it suited her to do so, and for no other reason. Never forget that, child. And never trust the valide, else you live to regret it. She is a very dangerous woman. Gold is her god and power her lover!”

“You make her sound quite frightening, Esther Kira,” Valentina said.

The matriarch nodded slowly. “She is dangerous, my child, yet if you saw her, you would not believe it. She has not allowed herself to go to ruin like so many harem beauties. Her hair, once a lovely red-gold, is faded to the color of pale apricot. She stands straight and is still slender. Her manners are flawless, and she has great charm. You will like her, but do not trust her, and guard your tongue when you speak with her.”

“I will heed your advice, Esther Kira,” Valentina replied.

“Then you will have no regrets, my child. Ah, here is the gift the valide has sent you,” the old lady said, taking the pearl-edged, pale blue silk handkerchief from the waiting servant and handing it to Valentina.

The handkerchief was tied with a pearl-embroidered cloth-of-gold ribbon, which, in itself, had value. Valentina undid the ribbon, giving it to the servant as a gift. Then she opened the handkerchief. Within the silk was an exquisitely carved mother-of-pearl box with a gold lock held shut by means of a diamond-studded golden pin. Valentina admired the box for a moment, then drew the pin through its loop. Lifting the lock, she opened the box.

“God’s foot!” she swore softly, using Elizabeth Tudor’s favorite oath.

“Ah!” There was a soft exclamation from the other women, who had crowded about her in order to see.

“Oh, m’lady! Is that for you?” Nelda was goggle-eyed.

“Yes, girl, it is a gift for your mistress, and a very fine one,” Esther Kira said when she had seen the gift. “Even I am impressed, Safiye, indeed, courts your goodwill, child.”

Valentina was too surprised even to touch the gift that rested on a bed of dark velvet inside the carved box. It was probably the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. The chain was an exquisite filigree of pink gold, and caught within the filigree were glittering diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, golden beryls, rubies, pale green peridots, and light blue tourmalines. Three large diamonds hung from the base of the necklace. Each had been cut in an unusual shape: a clear white diamond was shaped like a crescent moon; a diamond with a decidedly blue cast was fashioned like a star; the center stone was a pink diamond in the shape of a heart.

“I have never seen anything like it in my entire life,” Valentina finally said. “It is magnificent, almost barbaric in its splendor. It must be worth a king’s ransom! I have never owned anything like it, nor did I ever imagine I would.”

“You must wear it when you visit the valide,” said Sarai emphatically. “It will please her, as will your open gratitude.”

“But what will I give her?” Valentina said. “How can I possibly match such a gift?”

“You must not match it, child,” said Esther. “Not if you wish to please Safiye. Your gift must be of suitable magnificence to do her honor, but not quite as magnificent as this necklace. Tell me. What cargo did you bring back from the Crimea?”

“Uncut gemstones, musk, spices, furs.” Valentina cudgeled her brain to remember. “We have a great deal of sable, I recall.”

“Perfect!” the old lady said. “We will have a sable cape made for Safiye with a jeweled closure. That will please her very much!”

“But who will do the work?” Valentina wailed. “We have only three days!”

Esther Kira chuckled. “You will leave it in my hands, child, and it will be done, I guarantee you.”

If anyone could arrange the miracle, Esther Kira could, and so Valentina left the matter of the valide’s gift in her capable hands.

She slept better that night than she had in weeks, but in the morning after she had broken her fast, she decided to find Padraic and the others. A servant was dispatched to fetch them, but after Valentina had waited for a long time, Sarai appeared.

“I understand that you wish to see your betrothed, but he and the other Englishmen are not here. They have gone across the Golden Horn to Pera to pay their respects to the English ambassador. I do not know when they will be back, but I thought perhaps you would enjoy seeing Balata today. Then perhaps tomorrow you can arrange with your betrothed to visit some points of interest in Istanbul.”

Padraic gone? Without telling her? Valentina was angry, but there was no help for it, and so she agreed to go with the kindly Sarai. She fumed to herself, nonetheless, over the situation. Istanbul was a fascinating city, but she did not like the structure of Eastern society. She had learned that every house, no matter how humble, had its women’s quarters. Here in the Kira household, the house was, like many, divided into three sections, with the women’s quarters on one side, the men’s quarters on the opposite side, and a public area in the middle of the house. It was there that the Kiras did their banking business on all but two days of the week, their own and the Islamic Sabbath.

The male and female facilities were separate, though equal in their furnishings. The sections came together in only one place; the kitchens served the entire household. There were doors from the kitchens leading into the women’s quarters, but there were no doors from the kitchens into the men’s quarters. Instead, there was a sliding panel through which dishes were pushed into the men’s dining room and through which the dirty dishes were passed back. There were separate baths for men and women. The entire family shared the gardens. A man might visit his wife’s bed, but she never defiled his sleeping quarters. The sons of the house were removed from the women’s care at the age of seven and went to live in the men’s quarters. Although women were respected for their roles as lifegivers, mothers, nurturers, and finally, wise elders, they were still considered simple creatures who needed the total care and complete protection of their men. Most responded positively to such treatment, but there were unusual women, like Esther, who could not be satisfied in such passive roles.

“I could not live this way,” Valentina admitted to Sarai as they prepared to leave the house.

“It is our way, Valentina,” Sarai responded. “We are happy, and we know no other way of life. At least we Jewesses have more freedom than the women of Islam.”

“How is that?” Valentina demanded.

“Here in Balata we are free to walk in the streets in order to shop and to visit our friends. It is only necessary that we be respectably garbed. The veil is not required. However, when we venture into the city, we prefer wearing a plain, black yashmak so that we appear like all of the other women of Istanbul. There are those who do not like Jews and would not hesitate to accost us and insult us publicly.

“Wealthy women of Islam spend practically their entire lives in some harem or another. Occasionally, a woman with power, like Safiye, ventures out, but most well-to-do women of Istanbul remain at home. Women of more modest means, wearing their black yashmaks, which leave only the eyes visible, do their own shopping. They even go regularly to the public baths, particularly if there is no bath in their home. Cleanliness is of great importance to us here in Istanbul.