Lost Love Found (49 page)

“Sometimes even the women of important households visit the great covered market, for it is a wondrous place, Valentina, with everything you could possibly imagine for sale. We will go there before you return to England.”

The ghetto of Balata was like no place Valentina had ever been before. Enclosed within her litter when she had come and gone from the harbor, she had not seen much of Balata. On foot, however, it was a different matter. Balata was a bright, noisy place where the houses were jammed next to each other, their balconies overflowing with brilliantly colored blooms and flowering vines. The houses, like most of those in Istanbul, were of wood. Fire was always a danger, particularly in the winter when the charcoal braziers used for heat were apt to tumble over. Some of the buildings were private houses, but most were divided into apartments that families shared.

There were fountains everywhere, for water was important to the city. It poured through state-built aqueducts into central holding tanks, then into the neighborhood fountains, where its flow seemed unceasing. For the wealthy, such as the Kiras, waterpipes went directly into their homes. In Balata, there were three fine public baths, one for men, one for women, and a ritual bath that was attached to Balata’s temple.

There were several open-air markets. In one, Valentina saw an astonishing array of fresh fruits and vegetables spread out on mats on the ground so that the buyer might see for herself that nothing was hidden. There were fresh fish from the harbor and live poultry ready to be slaughtered. The manner of their slaughter was a very particular thing, Valentina learned.

“For all our meats,” Sarai explained, “there must be no blood spilled, else the food be defiled. Everything must be in accordance with our dietary laws. We do not mix meat, for instance, with dairy products, and the meat of pigs and certain sea creatures that scavenge are forbidden to us, being considered unclean by our religious laws.”

“Why?” Valentina asked, puzzled.

“I do not know,” Sarai replied. “You would have to ask one of our rabbis that, but they do not speak to women, for women are considered unclean because of our monthly flow of blood. All I can tell you is that it is our law. It is not necessary for me to know anything beyond that. It has been our people’s way for centuries.”

If it were me, I should want to know, Valentina thought. How can you simply accept rules without knowing the reasons for them? I could not live here in the East. I just couldn’t!

In another market there were marvelous fabrics—silks, brocades, and fine cottons of every possible color and hue—as well as thick, heavy wool carpets. There were stalls filled with beautiful leather goods, displays of Venetian glass, North African brass, and furniture made of ebony and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. There was one merchant who sold nothing but lamps and a cobbler who worked on a pair of shoes or slippers for you while you waited.

A third market sold only live animals: goats, sheep, and horses. Valentina was fascinated by the fine-boned Arab horses the Turks were breeding. She could see the speed that would be possible with these horses, and she began to wonder if it would be possible to transport a few of them back to England.

“I want to buy some horses,” she told Sarai, who looked at her blankly.

“Horses?” she echoed. “But why, Valentina?”

“Well, for one thing, I think I should enjoy riding such fine horses as these,” Valentina replied.

“You ride horses?” Sarai laughed weakly. “You are teasing me, aren’t you, Valentina? And I am so silly that for a moment I believed you! Women do not ride horses.”

“In my country they do,” Valentina said firmly. “Our family raises horses, Sarai. These are fine animals, the like of which I have never seen. Yes, particularly fine. I believe introducing such a strain of animal into our own herds might prove beneficial.” She smiled at the woman. “I want six mares and a good stallion. You will have to bargain for me, however, as I do not believe my Turkish is good enough.”

Sarai looked horrified. “I cannot bargain for horses,” she whispered. “I have not the faintest idea how!”

“I imagine it is like bargaining for anything else,” replied Valentina, her eye on a handsome white stallion with a black mane and tail. The dealer had several stallions, all carefully separated. The white one seemed the best. Unless, of course, he had some hidden flaw. “Go about it as if you were going to purchase a fine jewel or a rug,” Valentina suggested to her startled friend. “Ask the horse trader how much for the white stallion over there,” she said, pointing at the horse.

Sarai swallowed hard. She approached the dealer. “My friend,” she said, “is a foreigner whose family raises horses. She wishes to know the price of the white stallion with the dark mane and tail.”

“Lady,” the dealer replied, “I do not have time for pranks. I do not sell horses to women.”

Valentina understood that clearly. “Why?” she asked. “Is it against the law in Istanbul to sell horses to women?”

“It is not against any law I know of,” he muttered in a surly manner, “but it should be.”

Valentina drew an obviously heavy purse from her robes and hefted it meaningfully from one hand to the other. The clink of gold coins was audible as she asked, “My money is not good enough for you?”

The man licked his lips. The coins were surely gold, for only gold made that particular sound. Business had been slow of late, and if he was going to build his wife that house he kept promising her so that they would not have to live forever with his in-laws, he could not afford to say no to this foreign woman.

“How many horses do you want?” he asked her.

“Is this all you have?” she demanded. “Where did you get them?”

“I live outside the city, lady, and I raise the animals myself. These are my yearlings, and a better crop I have never had, may Yahweh strike me dead if I am lying to you!”

“I want a stallion and six mares for breeding,” Valentina said. “They must all be healthy, for they have to be able to withstand a sea voyage to England.”

“If you really know horses,” said the dealer, “then you will know that these are excellent animals, lady.”

“Name me a price for the white stallion,” she answered him, and he did.

Sarai gasped. “Thief!” she raged at him. “Even I know a horse should not cost that much. Come, Valentina! This man is a robber. I cannot allow you to do business with him, lest my family be blamed for your being cheated. The Kiras do not cheat anyone.”

The horse dealer looked from one woman to the other, then paled. “You are a member of the Kira family, lady?”

“I am,” Sarai replied haughtily.

The dealer thought quickly. He could make himself a handsome profit and possibly also gain the goodwill of the most important Jewish family in the entire city of Istanbul. So this foreign woman was eccentric. Was not the matriarch of the Kira family herself—a woman who had lived longer than was decent—eccentric?

“Lady, I apologize,” he said to Sarai. “I do not know what possessed me to name such a figure. If you will half the figure, you will have the true price of the animal.”

Sarai found that she was in her element. Valentina had been right. It
was
just like purchasing a fine gemstone or a carpet from the bazaars. She began to bargain with the horse dealer in earnest, haranguing him lustily until they finally reached a price for the stallion which they could agree on. Then, while Valentina inspected the mares in the trader’s herd and chose the six she wanted, Sarai began her bargaining all over again. Finally, the entire bargain was struck.

“Bring the beasts to the Kira family stables,” she commanded the dealer regally. “Tell them they have been purchased by the family’s English guests.” She took Valentina’s purse from her and carefully counted out the coins, then handed them to the dealer. “Do not attempt to switch horses on us, sir,” she warned. “The animals will be thoroughly hosed down when they arrive.”

“You are too suspicious, Sarai,” Valentina said smoothly, extracting another coin from the purse and pressing it into the dealer’s hand. “For your trouble, sir,” she said, and then the two women walked away.

“I did it! I actually bargained for seven horses!” Sarai said excitedly. “I cannot believe it, and neither will anyone else. I really did it!”

They stopped to buy two fruit sherbets to refresh themselves after their business transaction, then the two women walked back up the winding streets of the ghetto to the great house at the top of Balata. There, to Valentina’s annoyance, she learned that Padraic, Tom, and Murrough had decided to remain across the Horn in Pera for another day or two so that they might go hunting with the ambassador in the hills behind the city.

“Does he think he is some sultan and I his slave that he can leave me alone and treat me so?” Valentina fumed to Nelda. “He has certainly taken on the ways of the country quickly enough.”

“ ’Tis just like a man, my mum says,” Nelda replied. “Once he’s sure of you, he forgets you.”

“He will not forget me,” Valentina said softly. “Oh, no, Nelda! He cannot forget me! I am wrapped about his heart and I have captured his soul, even if he is not aware of it yet.” She laughed. “We will go home as soon as I have seen the valide, and once in England, my lord and master will find that he cannot bear to have me out of his sight for a moment. Let him play with the other little boys now, Nelda. My time will come soon enough!”

“Oh, m’lady! You’re a wild one for all your innocent looks! I hope I may continue to serve you when we get home again. ’Twould be very boring to go back to my old life, or to have to marry just yet. I’d rather serve you!”

“Why, so you shall, Nelda, for you suit me. Your mother, bless her, persists in treating me like the child I am not.”

“Then give her a nursery full of bairns to watch over, m’lady, and she’ll be content,” Nelda replied mischievously.

Valentina laughed again. “Why, Nelda,” she replied. “I may do just that!”

Chapter 11

T
he entire women’s quarters of the Kira household marshaled itself to prepare Valentina for her audience with the Sultan Valide Safiye. In the morning, she was bathed as she had never been bathed before. Every crevice of her body, every inch of her skin was soaped and rinsed thoroughly. Her hair was washed and rinsed, then washed and rinsed again. Her fingernails and toenails were pared neatly. She was massaged with creams. She was perfumed.

Her clothing was selected by Esther herself, for whatever favor Valentina found with Safiye would reflect upon the Kira family as well.

“There is no hiding your beauty,” Esther said, “and so we will not even attempt to do so. Instead, we will enhance it, and if Safiye feels a prick of jealousy, she will at least be soothed by the knowledge that you can be no rival to her in any way.”

“I wish Padraic and the others were back to see me in my finery,” said Valentina.

The old woman chuckled. “You are like me,” she said. “You do not like waiting on a man, and you are perhaps a little angry that your betrothed husband has left you to go hunting with his friends.”

“Aye, I am irritated by it,” Valentina admitted, “but probably because women in this society are so closeted, Esther Kira, and I am not used to it. In England, I would have been invited to join the gentlemen at hunting instead of being left behind.”

“I have heard that the women in your land do such things, and although it amazes me, I fully approve. I only wish there were such independent women among my descendants, but alas! It is not our way, as Sarai would so fatalistically say.”

Valentina giggled. “It does seem to be her favorite expression,” she noted, “but I did get her to bargain for my horses the other day and she was quite proud of herself.”

“Heh! Heh! Heh!” Esther Kira cackled. “I should have liked to have seen Sarai arguing with a horse dealer!”

The clothing the old woman chose for Valentina was exquisite. There were wide-legged pantaloons of mauve silk, with a pattern of small gold and silver stars woven into the fabric. Seed pearls were sewn at the ankles to give the pantaloons three-inch cuffs. A blouse of the sheerest, palest pink gauze was topped by a sleeveless bolero of cloth of gold over mauve silk, embroidered with pearls and pink crystals and edged with pearls. Tied about her hips was a wide sash of alternating stripes of cloth of gold and cloth of silver. Gold kid slippers were slipped on her slender feet.

Nelda watched curiously as one of the Kira servants brushed her mistress’s hair back and wove pearls into the single braid that she expertly fashioned. Valentina’s eyes were then carefully outlined with kohl and her lashes darkened so that her amethyst eyes appeared quite large. The valide’s gift necklace was slipped over her head. And then, to Valentina’s surprise, the matriarch herself fitted large diamond teardrops into Valentina’s ears.

“My gift to you, dear child, to commemorate your visit to Istanbul,” Esther Kira said quietly.

Valentina’s eyes filled with quick tears. “Thank you,” she said simply as the servant mopped at her eyes before she could spoil her makeup.

The other women of the Kira family had gifts for her, too. They presented her with a lovely selection of gold and silver bangle bracelets. Some were plain and others were studded with seed pearls or semiprecious gems.