Love Wild and Fair (64 page)

“Miserable woman,” he chortled, “you will not escape your punishment!”

Forcing her eyes open, she glared at him with an icy green stare. She heard Hammid’s voice saying, “You are a fool to antagonize her, Osman. The lady Incili is not out of favor, nor is she likely to be. She is only disobedient” Then the chief eunuch’s face came into view. “Yield to him, my daughter.”

The whip bit into her burning back. “Never!” she managed to gasp as the blackness rose up to claim her again.

The eunuch shook his head, then called out, “She craves your pardon, my lord.” The look on his face dared Osman to challenge his word.

“Release her,” commanded Cicalazade Pasha, “and see that her back is tended to at once. I shall expect her in my bed later this evening.”

They carried her to her apartments, where both Lateefa and a white-faced Susan waited. Carefully the slavewoman removed the rest of Cat’s clothing, and she was placed stomach down on her bed. Her back was a mass of angry red welts, and Susan began to weep.

“How could he? How could he? No one has ever treated my lady thus! No one!”

“Do not weep, girl,” said Lateefa kindly. “It looks worse than it really is. See. The lash was plied, and the skin is not broken. There will be no scars, and in a few days both the pain and the welts will be gone.” Then she carefully bathed the injured back herself with cool water, and gently rubbed a pale-green cream into the welts. “It’s a special salve,” she told Susan, “and it will take some of the pain from the welts. Now sit by your mistress until I return.”

Lateefa hurried through the corridors of the palace to her husband’s apartments. “I would beg leave to speak with you alone,” she said humbly. Dismissing the slaves, he motioned for her to sit by him. “I myself have cared for Incili’s injuries, my lord, but she will be unavailable to you for at least two or three days. She is yet unconscious, and running a slight fever. You punished her cruelly, Cica. Had the lash not been plied you could have killed her.”

“She will be all right?” he asked anxiously, and Lateefa’s heart contracted at the worry in his voice. Esther Kira is right, she thought. “I did not mean to hurt her,” the vizier continued, “but she was so defiant! She would not beg my pardon until eleven lashes had been meted out.”

“What did you expect, Cica?” asked Lateefa quietly. “This is no peasant girl you’ve taken for your second wife. This is a proud European noblewoman. She is used to speaking her mind. I am trying to teach her our ways, but it will take time. You must be patient with her.”

“You like her,” he said. “I am glad! I am glad that you have become friends.”

“Yes, we are friends, Cica. Now, please, my lord, give her a few days to heal both her back and her spirit. She will not forgive you easily. This time I am afraid you will have to amuse yourself with your harem. You have ignored them shamefully since Incili came, and there is an outright rebellion there, my lord. Hammid can tell you.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced sulkily. “I give her three days. At the end of that time I expect her back in my bed, docile and obedient to my will.”

Lateefa bit back the smile that threatened to burst forth. “It will be as you wish, my lord husband,” she answered him quietly, and she left him to return to Cat’s bedchamber.

“How is she?” she asked Susan.

“Still unconscious. A bit restless too, my lady.”

“Go to your bed, Mara. Your mistress received this punishment in defense of me. It is only right that I sit with her tonight. Bring me my embroidery before you retire.”

During the first few hours, Lateefa Sultan sat quietly, plying her needle. Twice she trimmed the wicks of the lamps and refilled them with scented oil. Once she rubbed the green salve into Cat’s back again. Her eyes grew tired and blurred with the ache of watching the colored threads on the snow-white linen. She admired the beautiful lines of her cousin’s back and buttocks, wondering if she really enjoyed a man’s lovemaking as she said, or if she hated it as Lateefa did.

Within the harem there were those women who loved each other, Lateefa knew. This sort of thing was forbidden, but the eunuchs had a tendency to turn a blind eye to it, as a happy woman caused less trouble than an unhappy one. Lateefa was above the women of the harem by birth and by rank. None of them would dare approach her, and she had never approached any of them. She wondered whether a woman lover would be as rough as Cicalazade was.

Cat moaned, still unconscious, and turned over, calling, “Francis! Francis!”

Lateefa was stunned by the beauty of her cousin’s breasts and torso. They were flawless and creamy. Bending over, Lateefa said softly, “Hush, Incili. It’s all right now, my dear.”

But Cat called again. “Francis! Francis! Oh, yes, my love! Yes!”

Lateefa could not understand the words, for they were not Turkish, but she could see from the look on her cousin’s face what it was she dreamed about. It was the face of a woman being made love to by a man she adored. Cat thrashed slightly. Fearful that she would injure herself, Lateefa reached out to quiet her. Her hand brushed the unconscious woman’s breast. Instantly the nipple sprang erect, and Cat moaned. Unable to help herself, Lateefa reached out and caressed the soft globe of rounded flesh, feeling a thrill as the beautiful woman on the bed strained to her touch.

Trembling, the princess rose from her chair and divested herself of her robes. She lay down on the bed next to Cat, her shaking hands caressing the naked body of her unconscious cousin, careful to avoid the sore back. Cat writhed beneath the touch. Lateefa bent her head, eagerly licking Cat’s nipples. Cat moaned again, and Lateefa turned over on her stomach, her fingers teasing at her own womanhood, her hips moving against the action of her own hand until she collapsed with a great sigh of relief onto the mattress.

For a few minutes she lay there, flushed, her breath ragged. Then she rose from the bed, dressed, and picked up her embroidery. She sat back down in her chair, stunned by what she had done.

In the beginning of their marriage Cica had often made her caress him, and she had hated it. She had not hated touching Cat. Cat’s skin was smooth and lovely. She dozed, to be awakened later by Susan’s gentle touch.

“Let me watch now, my lady,” said the girl softly. Nodding her silent thanks, Lateefa Sultan gratefully departed for her own bed, and for the shy, pretty new slavegirl she had recently acquired, who would be waiting up for her. The girl was lonely and frightened, Lateefa knew. Several times her hands had touched her mistress intimately. Blushing prettily with confusion, the girl had begged her pardon. Lateefa had thought nothing of it. Now, however, she knew that the girl would respond to her favor and her kindness, should she decide to proffer them. Cicalazade Pasha might take ten women to his bed every night. His wife Lateefa Sultan no longer intended being lonely.

T
HREE nights later, her back sufficiently healed, Cat was back in Cicalazade’s bed. Her return was a sulky and defiant one, but the vizier was bored with the succession of compliant beauties who had recently shared his bed and chose to be amused rather than angry. It was this very show of independence that made her interesting to him.

Though Cat came to understand his position, she could not forgive him.

The Christian New Year of 1599 began, and Cat, standing alone on Lateefa’s terrace overlooking the sea, found herself straining to hear the sound of the Glenkirk bagpipe. A single tear slid down her cheek, and she wondered if Francis were with the Kiras yet.

The winter deepened, and the vizier’s passion for her did not abate. She no longer fought against him, having accepted that she must endure her fate until she could change it. With the new year she instinctively knew that Bothwell was near. Soon she would escape! The early spring came, and with it arrived problems along the Hungarian-Austrian border of the empire. The sultan would send Cicalazade Pasha to the border.

Mohammed III was a big man with fair skin, deep brown eyes, and black hair, beard, and mustache. He could be kinder than most and crueler than any man alive. Upon his ascension four years earlier he had ordered the execution of his nineteen brothers, the oldest of whom was eleven, and he had drowned the seven of his father’s concubines who had had the misfortune to be pregnant.

His sexual appetite was legendary. His beautiful Venetian mother, Safiye, had encouraged his every desire in an effort to remain in control of him.

The sultan had one admirable trait. He was loyal to those who were loyal to him, and treated the men who served him with great kindness and generosity. Noting the crestfallen expression on his vizier’s face, he asked, “What is it that stems your enthusiasm, Cica? A year ago you would have been eager for an assignment like this one.”

The vizier sighed. “You will think me a fool, my padishah, but last year I took a second wife, and I am saddened at the thought of being away from her.”

The sultan’s eyes glittered. “I had heard that she is an exquisite creature. Is it true then?”

Cicalazade Pasha sighed again. “She consumes me with her beauty!”

“Take her with you, then. There is nothing unusual about a woman on campaign with her master.”

“Thank you, my lord, but no,” said the vizier, genuine regret in his voice. “If I took Incili with me, I should not attend to my lord’s best interests.”

The sultan chuckled. “I am grateful that you put our interests above your lust. But tell me, Cica, do you dare to leave Lateefa and your new wife together? They will undoubtedly tear each other and your house apart in your absence.”

“Nay, sire! ‘Tis amazing, but they are like sisters. In fact, several months ago I was obliged to chastise Lateefa, and Incili flew at me like a vixen in an effort to defend her friend. I beat her for her insolence, of course.”

The sultan nodded sympathetically. “You were wise, my friend. Women are good only for one thing. They must ever be taught who is master.” Then he clapped his vizier on the shoulder. “Cheer up, my friend! You’ll only be gone a few months, and think how eager your Incili will be for your return.”

The two men laughed companionably, and then the sultan said, “If Lateefa and Incili are friends, Cica, why not have them both in the same bed with you? Taking two women at once is delicious.” He lowered his voice so that only Cicalazade would hear him. The vizier’s eyes narrowed, then grew wide, and he replied, “I will try that when I get home, my lord. It sounds most diverting.”

The sultan’s eyes were dreamy. “It is, my friend. It is very diverting.” Then he grew businesslike again. “I will have Yakub Bey see to the readiness of your troops. He is to be your second-in-command. Take your wife Incili to your island for a few days, but be ready to leave a week from now. Allah go with you.”

Cicalazade Pasha rode back through the late morning to his palace. “Have Incili transported to the Island of a Thousand Flowers within the next few hours,” he commanded Hammid. “I want the island well stocked with fruits, nuts, coffee, sherbets, eggs, and sweets. One hot meal daily is to be delivered in the early evening. I will allow only two servants on the island to serve us. Send Incili’s woman, Mara, and a young eunuch.”

Towards midafternoon Cat found herself being rowed down the Bosporus in the vizier’s caique. Susan sat opposite her, wide-eyed, and a young eunuch sat in the front of the boat

“Why,” asked Susan, “are we being hurried to the island?”

“Because the vizier is being sent to quell a disturbance and will not be back for several months.” She lowered her voice and spoke in Scots English. “Just a little while more, Susan, and I shall be free of him for the next few months.” She did not tell her serving woman that she had received a message from Esther Kira that very afternoon, shoved into her hand by a jewelry vendor visiting the vizier’s harem.

The message had read, “Make an excuse to stay on the island when it is time for the vizier to leave.”

She had later burned the paper in a brazier, amazed that the Kiras already knew the vizier’s plans when she herself had only just learned of them.

Unused to the East, she could not know that gossip was important in keeping up with current events. At the same time the vizier had been with the sultan, Esther Kira had been with the sultan’s mother. After the vizier had left the palace, the sultan had joined his mother and her elderly friend for coffee. He related with some amusement how loath was his good friend Cica to leave his new bride. They had all enjoyed a good laugh at the vizier’s expense. Esther Kira had returned home to inform Francis Stewart-Hepburn that he would, in a few days’ time, be reunited with his wife.

The plan was really quite simple. They would wait until the vizier and his army were several days’ march from the city, and then Lord Bothwell and Conall would take the island, killing the slaves. It would be several days more before the vizier’s household discovered the absence of Incili and Mara. By that time they would all be on the Aegean.

Of all this, Cat knew nothing. When they arrived on the island, Cat delighted in showing Susan the gardens. They were alone but for a white eunuch, Feisal, the caique having returned to the vizier’s palace. Cat showed the two servants the two tiny cubicles where they were to remain once the master arrived. They were expected to be useful but as invisible as possible.

No sooner had the vizier arrived than he commanded Cat to remove her garments. She protested. “I spend a fortune on clothes and jewels to please you, my lord Cica, and you rarely allow me to wear them.”

“Wear them for your friends. I love you as Allah fashioned you.”

Pouting, she obeyed him, slowly and teasingly removing each article of doming as his eyes glittered hungrily. Susan then served them a hot supper. Cat noted that the meal was filled with foods and spices considered conducive to lovemaking. She shuddered imperceptibly, knowing that the next three days would be exhausting.

When the dishes had been cleared away, the vizier told Susan, “You may sleep, Mara. But tell Feisal to remain on call in his chamber.”