Lost Love Found (62 page)

“Hammid is not unsuspecting,” Lateefa Sultan said quietly. “He remembers Incili and is very distrustful of Naksh, for she neither respects nor fears him. He has given orders that she is not to leave the haremlik for any other section of the palace. She is allowed to go to the walled harem gardens once a day, but only in the company of Shakir and the six handmaidens assigned to her, all of whom are in Hammid’s debt. They report her every move to him.”

The old lady chuckled. “Tomorrow the dutiful and cautious Hammid will find himself torn, my princess, for tomorrow is his usual day to attend the slave market. You know he will allow no one else to choose the women for your husband’s harem. In that matter he trusts only his own judgment.”

“But he has not visited the women’s slave market all summer long, Esther Kira. Why do you think he will go tomorrow?” Lateefa Sultan said.

“Until three days ago, my princess, Hammid knew nothing firsthand about your husband’s love captive. What he knows now has surely not pleased him. The Englishwoman is a proud creature who will never be his ally—and if she is not his ally, then she is his enemy. Hammid will, therefore, seek to ruin her influence with the vizier, using other, equally beautiful and certainly more amenable women.

“Tomorrow in the women’s slave market, Kara Ali, our most prestigious slave merchant, a man who deals only in the finest and rarest beauty, will hold a very special auction of women. Ali Ziya, the sultan’s Aga Kisler, has been invited to this auction. So has Hammid. And he will go, my princess, for the word in the marketplace is that there has never been such a group of women gathered together beneath one roof.

“I can personally assure you that the gossip is correct. Why? Because for weeks, agents of the Kira family have been seeking beautiful virgins for just this purpose. Our Tatar friends in Kaffa have culled the best of their captives for us, and received a premium price for doing so. The slave farms in Circassia and the markets of Georgia have been stripped of their best women. In Algiers, our people have purchased the most exquisite of the girls brought in by Barbary captains. All of these females have been brought to Istanbul and housed with Kara Ali, who, by chance, is in our debt.

“His silence about this matter, and the auction he holds tomorrow, will erase his debt to our bank. The excellent commission he receives from all of the merchandise sold should provide him with a fortune for his old age.

“Hammid and Ali Ziya will make magnificent purchases for their masters’ harems, and they will enjoy bidding against each other. All in all, it should be quite a satisfying afternoon for Hammid until, of course, he returns to the vizier’s palace to discover that Naksh has escaped.”

“But how, Esther Kira? How can she escape when she is under such strict supervision?” Lateefa Sultan was worried.

“Female peddlers are permitted into your harem, my princess. Even as we speak, permission is being requested for a group to visit you tomorrow afternoon. That permission will be granted, for Hammid knows it will keep the women amused while he is away. Besides, he makes a tidy sum in bribes each time the women peddlers come.

“A group of eight or more peddlers will arrive. No one ever thinks to take a head count of such arrivals, and the peddlers will leave in two groups so as to confuse any observers.

“My great-grandson Lev’s wife, Sabra, will be among the peddlers. She is expecting a child, and her bulk will attract no special attention, but part of that bulk will be an extra black yashmak and veil, the same as she and the others will be wearing.

“A distraction must be created so that Lady Barrows can don those garments and make her escape in the first group of women peddlers, who will include Sabra. Sabra will bring Lady Barrows directly here to us in Balata. As soon as night falls, Lady Barrows will be taken to her ship, which will sail immediately.

“Your husband will not be at your palace tomorrow afternoon, for he has a meeting with the sultan at the Yeni Serai. There has been great dissatisfaction recently among the general population over the currency crisis. The vizier is apt to be late returning home, and when he does arrive, there will be little he can do to regain his captive, for he can hardly admit, publicly, to having kidnapped Lady Barrows in the first place. This will work to our advantage, for by the time he has decided on a course of action, Lady Barrows will be long gone from Istanbul.”

“Esther Kira, you amaze me,” Lateefa Sultan said admiringly. “How do you manage to know everything? My husband’s meeting with the sultan tomorrow and … a currency crisis? What crisis? What is wrong with the currency?”

“Why should you know of the currency crisis?” the old woman said. “Your husband is not harmed by it and he sees to all your needs, but the general population is not as fortunate. The sultan’s avarice, and his mother’s, is no secret, my princess. Their greed has reached devastating heights.

“For months now, all gold, silver, and copper coins passing through the treasury have been clipped by a group of mute slaves brought in for that purpose. Most of the coins now in circulation do not weigh what they should. Consequently, merchants are weighing the coins used for each purchase made. An item costing a dinar may cost two or three dinars if the first coin is short-weighted. People are very angry. There have been several small riots outside the Yeni Serai this past week. I suspect that is why the vizier was summoned to the palace for a meeting tomorrow.”

“Gracious!” Lateefa Sultan exclaimed. “My cousin and his mother are shameful to do such a thing! I do not blame the people for their anger. If bread normally cost a single coin, and that is all you have to spend, it must be awful to watch your children go hungry so that the sultan may have more gold. Can nothing be done, Esther Kira?”

“The debased coinage must be made good, my princess, and it must be done soon. I expect now that the people have begun to complain, it will. The sultan cannot afford anarchy in his own capital. Knowing Mehmed, however, I expect he will find a way that does not involve his losing a penny.” The old lady chuckled. “Now I wish to point out Lev’s wife to you, that you will know her tomorrow when she comes. I do not want her making any show that would attract attention within your palace. The peddler women must all be as alike as peas in a pod, with no distinctions to be recalled by sharp-eyed women seeking to curry favor with Hammid or your husband, or ambitious eunuchs seeking Hammid’s position.”

Esther Kira clapped her hands. Her signal was answered by an older serving woman. The matriarch nodded to the woman, who bowed and left the room, returning a moment later with a young girl. The girl said nothing, but bowed politely to the princess. “You will remember her, Lateefa Sultan?” Esther Kira said as the girl and the servant left the room.

“I will remember her,” was the firm reply.

“Good! Now you must go, lest your visit be thought overlong,” the old woman said. “I thank you for your help in this matter, Lateefa Sultan. We have always been friends. I should not like to see the vizier lose everything merely because of his lust.”

“In that we are in agreement, Esther Kira,” the princess replied. “The Englishwoman is like a blade of the finest, forged Toledo steel. Cica would never really have from her what he wanted, and eventually he would realize that. I shudder to think what he would do to that poor woman in his anger and disappointment. I should not want an innocent life on my conscience, and her life would be on my conscience if I did not help you.” Lateefa Sultan arose from the divan. “Farewell, dear Esther Kira,” she said. “I shall come and see you again very soon.” Smiling, she bent and kissed her.

Esther Kira watched Lateefa Sultan leave. Then she called to her eunuch, “Yakob! Where are you, you useless creature? We have much work to do!”

As the princess’s litter was being carried down the hill into the city toward the vizier’s palace, the vizier was enjoying the afternoon in the bedchamber of his new favorite.

He had learned that she performed far better without the companionship of other women, and since her preferences led to his supreme pleasure, he allowed her this little idiosyncrasy. A tiny bathing room directly off her bedchamber allowed them a proper place to make their ablutions after each bout with love. He had had her several times in the last few hours, and each time was even more satisfying than the last, for she did not yield easily.

He adored her proud spirit, for it added a piquant zest to their encounters. She was fierce. She was hard. He realized that no woman he had ever possessed, even his adored Incili, stimulated him as Naksh did. Since he had lost Incili, he had found women boring and he did not perform as well with them as he once had. He was tired. Bored. Distracted.

With Naksh, his lust soared again, finding new heights. Naksh had the tongue of a poisonous snake, a tongue that he put to better use than scalding him with her venom.

She knelt submissively before him, his great shaft in her mouth, her wicked tongue pleasuring him as he had instructed her. He stood watching her through half-closed eyes, his hand fondling her silky dark hair as he waited for the precise moment to bid her to cease her delightful work. When that moment came, he ordered her to the bed, where she lay, her legs wide and dangling over the edge of the bed, while he satisfied the longings of his own tongue.

Valentina could feel each of his fingers as they dug into the soft flesh of her round buttocks. His tongue flicked back and forth against her little jewel, and she bit her lips until they bled to stifle her cries, but here, as elsewhere, she failed. The insistent tongue slithered along the pink inner walls of her nether lips, moving ever downward until it thrust itself into her passage. His mouth pressed against her, and he sucked on the little pearl of flesh, causing her to spasm with passion. As she shuddered, he pulled himself up and ground his manhood into her, ramming himself fiercely back and forth within her until Valentina began to scream with mindless passion. The unholy pleasure swept over her, drowning her with desire while scalding her with shame. Cicalazade Pasha roared triumphantly with his own climax and fell forward upon her supine body.

He stayed with her until past moonrise. Only when he had left her and she had convinced Shakir and her maidens that she was asleep, did Valentina give in to tears. She sobbed for over an hour, muffling the sounds of her weeping with pillows. She would never allow them to know the depth of her pain!
Never!

Valentina knew that she had to escape from Cicalazade Pasha, and his lust. She could not bear to be the object of his attentions much longer. What had the vizier’s lovely wife meant by her words this afternoon? Would she really help her? How on earth had she learned the English tongue, Valentina wondered, and did she even comprehend the words that she had spoken?

Valentina drew a deep and calming breath. Her exhaustion had made everything seem dire, and insurmountable. She needed sleep if she was to think clearly. She must find a way to approach the vizier’s wife tomorrow. Only then would she know what the princess had really meant by the words she had uttered.

Knowing how Naksh’s afternoon and evening had been occupied the previous day, Shakir instructed her attendants not to awaken her until late morning. They stood around her bed and uttered fluttering little cries, and Valentina was able to make out from the babble that the peddler women were coming to the harem that afternoon with their wonderful goods. The lady Naksh had been invited by the princess, Lateefa Sultan, to join her and the vizier’s other favorites.

“The vizier has left a particularly large bag of gold dinars for you, my lady,” Shakir said proudly. He knew that his words would be repeated, gossiped about the baths by the handmaidens, thereby making him and his lady the envy of all. He held up a large red silk bag and shook it. To the slave girls’ delight, it jingled noisily.

“Where is my lord Cica?” Valentina demanded. She had decided to accept the princess’s invitation and did not want her afternoon spoiled by the vizier’s lust.

“The master has gone to the Yeni Serai, my lady. The sultan values the advice of his first vizier. It is unlikely that the master will return much before midnight.”

Relief washed over her. Freed of the vizier’s unwelcome attentions, she could enjoy the day. The fluttering handmaidens brought her freshly squeezed fruit juice and peeled sweet green grapes, piled on a bed of tangy yogurt. There was also freshly baked bread with a honeycomb. Valentina ate it all. She was ravenous. Lord, she hoped she was not with child!

She was hurried off to the baths, where the women of the vizier’s harem were all gossiping in small groups. Most of them had been excluded from the princess’s festive gathering, for they were not important enough to be included. The peddler women would visit them, of course, but it would not be the same as being with the vizier’s wife and favorites. Still, it was better than nothing.

Their eyes turned enviously toward the new favorite as she entered with her puffed-up eunuch and her six handmaidens. As yet no one had been able to get close to Naksh, but they supposed that eventually someone would, and then they would know more about her. Her eunuch said little and her women did not themselves know her well. Only Gülfem, Hazade, and Säh, who had spent the summer on the island with Naksh, could tell them anything, but all they would say was that Naksh was stubborn and overproud. Well, who had a better right to be proud? Was she not very high in their master’s favor? Several smiled and nodded to Naksh as she passed by, but she ignored them.

After she was bathed, Valentina was hurried once more through the women’s quarters and back to her own apartments, where her clothing was laid out. She would wear bright scarlet pantaloons with gold thread and garnet-glass ankle bands. Her blouse was of pale gold gauze. Over that she wore a bolero of scarlet and gold silk, edged in gold fringe. Her house slippers with their funny little turned-up toes were of scarlet silk.

Shakir braided Valentina’s dark hair into a single braid into which he wove gold ribbons. The braid was then pushed through an open, round gold dome affixed atop her head. The braid flowed from the dome straight and long down her back. A cloth-of-gold sash was tied artistically about her waist. It, too, was fringed, and at the end of each piece of fringe was a tiny piece of garnet glass.