Love Wild and Fair (66 page)

In the morning he left the island in his caique and was rowed back down the Bosporus to his palace in the city, where he made arrangements for Cat’s stay on the island.

She stood on the stone quay waving him goodbye, but no sooner was he out of hearing than she whirled about with joy, shouting in her own language, “Goodbye, my lord vizier! Farewell forever!”

Susan was astounded at Cat’s behavior. “My lady, are you all right?”

“Better than I have been in almost a year, my girl,” laughed Cat. “Now that he is gone I dare tell ye. My beloved Francis is near, and yer Uncle Conall too! I dinna know when, but we’ll be rescued in a few days at the most!”

“Thank God,” breathed Susan fervently.

“ ‘Twill nae be easy,” Cat warned her. “We hae a long and dangerous journey ahead of us. But I should rather die wi Bothwell than spend my days a pampered wife of Cicalazade Pasha!”

“Then yer nae wi bairn? He said ye were, and that I should take extra care of ye.”

“God’s bones, no! I’d nae bear that lustful devil’s bairn! ‘Twas but an excuse so we might remain here. ’Tis easier to escape from here than from the vizier’s palace. Now, keep yer wits about ye, girl. Osman and a few others will be arriving later today to aid Feisel in ‘protecting’ me. Ye must nae gie them
any
reason to be suspicious of us.” “Will my lord kill the eunuchs here?” “Of course. We’ll need all the time we can get for a head start before they discover us gone.”

“Good! I hate Osman, and I want him dead!”

Cat looked at Susan with amazement “Why? What has he done to you?”

They had climbed back up to the top of the island. They sat down on a marble bench by the edge of a small goldfish pond.

“Ye know that eunuchs dinna function as normal men,” said Susan, “but there are several ways of gelding a male. Some have the rod and sac cut away. These are usually small children. Boys who are older are gelded by simply cutting the sac away so they may not reproduce. Though they are not supposed to, they can function with the aid of special drugs. They cannot have children, of course. Osman is one of these. If a girl takes a eunuch’s fancy …” She stopped. “Well, they have several ways of satisfying themselves.”

“And Osman singled ye out?” said Cat furiously. “He dared? Why did ye nae tell me, girl? I would hae put an instant stop to it!”

“I thought ye had enough to contend wi, my lady,” said Susan simply.

Cat put an arm about her servant and hugged her. “Ah, Susan! When we are safely out of this I swear ye’ll nae lack for anything ever again. As yer great-grand-mam and yer grandmother were loyal to my ancestress, so hae ye been faithful to me. I will nae forget it.”

“We are family, my lady, though ye be the mistress and I the tiring woman. A Leslie dinna forget his own.”

“Aye, Susan, a Leslie dinna forget,” replied Cat.

And as the two women sat quietly watching the fan-tail goldfish cavorting in the small blue-tiled pool, Bothwell impatiently paced a room in the Kiras’ Instanbul house. His wife had been kidnapped amost a year ago, in the early summer of 1598. In mid-September of the same year, Lord Bothwell and Conall More-Leslie had begun a dangerous journey sailing a small fishing boat from Brindisi across the Adriatic Sea to Elyria, and the mouth of the Aous River.

They had entered the river by night and sailed up it for many days until they could go no farther. They had then left the boat, after dragging it ashore and well back into a hidden cave. As they hiked across the mountain forest the weather remained mild, and they encountered no snow. Reaching the headwaters of the Peneus River in Thessaly, they found, following Pietro Kira’s directions, another well-stocked boat. Waiting with the boat was a young man who introduced himself as Asher Kira, the son of Eli.

Asher Kira was to escort them safely to the Kira house in Istanbul, and he would teach them the rudiments of Jewish domestic life. Bothwell and Conall were to be introduced into the household as a distant cousin and his servant, come to study the business methods of the main branch of the Kira bank. This would deflect curiosity and allow the two men freedom to move about the city.

Bothwell had grown a fine bushy auburn red beard for disguise, and dressed in the baggy pants, wide-sleeved blouse, turban, and embroidered sash and vest of the country, he was the very essence of the Turkish citizen. Conall with his black beard was even more impressive.

Asher Kira had piloted them successfully and they had arrived in Istanbul in mid-December of 1598. The trip had taken them exactly three months.

It was now April of 1599, and Bothwell had been waiting several months now for a chance to rescue his wife. Late one afternoon a servant entered the room where he was working on accounts and told him that Esther Kira would speak with him in her garden. When he entered the old woman’s presence she motioned him to the bench next to her. Though she looked as if a puff of wind could blow her away, her voice was strong and her gaze unwavering.

“How do you get on, my friend?” she asked him.

“Well, madame, but I grow more anxious daily to complete my mission.”

“I spent this morning at the palace. The vizier will be leaving the city for the Hungarian province in a few days. I would say that you will be able to retrieve your property several days after he’s gone.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes. But it has not been easy for her, and the next few days will be the hardest. She knows the time is near, and she must use all her wiles to convince him to leave her on his island. That is the safest place for the rescue. I have thought and thought, and there is simply no way to take her from the vizier’s palace without raising an immediate hue and cry which would bring almost certain recapture, with all its ensuing difficulties. The island is the only place we may take her from and still have time for getting away.” She stopped for a moment. “My lord,” she spoke gently to him, “my lord, there’s something you must know. You were told that the vizier prizes Incili above all women. You were not told that after he obtained his royal wife’s permission, he made Incili his second wife.”

Bothwell swore a ripe oath under his breath, and Esther smiled briefly before continuing. “So, my lord, you will not simply be retrieving
your
wife, you will also be stealing
his!”

Francis began to laugh. “What is it about the wench that all men who love her want to make her their wife?” he chuckled. “My poor cousin no sooner took his royal Danish bride for dynastic purposes than he was trying to force Cat to accept the position of
maitress en titre.
Her first husband, Patrick Leslie, had to chase her over half of Scotland for almost a year before he could get her to the altar. And I, may God help me, ended up an exile without lands or country for—among other alleged sins—trying to make her my wife. Now you tell me that Cicalazade Pasha asked permission of his royal Ottomon wife to take
my
wife for
his
own?”

The old woman’s cackling laughter joined Bothwell’s deep chuckle. Stopping, she wiped her damp eyes and said, “We will go over our plans in a few days.”

S
HE struggled up through the blackness, fighting the smothered feeling that overwhelmed her, clawing at the hard hand clamped over her mouth. Full consciousness returned as the voice in her ear became wonderfully familiar.

“Shhh, love! Tis me. ’Tis Francis!” Her eyes flew open and then widened at the sight of the bearded man bending over her. The hand was taken away. Catching her breath, she laughingly sobbed, “Damn me, Bothwell, ye look like the sultan himself!” Then the tears spilled out of her and she flung herself at him, weeping soundlessly.

Holding her closely, he smoothed the head beneath his hand and said in a gentle, teasing voice, “Can I not go off to earn us a living, madame, without yer getting captured by pirates? Ye’ve led me a fine chase to be sure!” Her shoulders shook all the harder. “Sweetheart, ‘tis all right,” he soothed. “I am here to take ye home. Dinna weep, lass. Ye’ve been so brave. Esther Kira has told me how brave ye’ve been.”

She squirmed out of his grasp and turned a stricken face up to him. “Do ye love me, Bothwell?”

For a moment he looked stunned, and then he mused, “Now, let me think a bit. I’ve crossed three seas and come through two straits. I must now turn about and go back the same way, dragging two women wi me. It will be a bloody miracle if we get to Italy alive! Perhaps I did it for the adventure of it? Christ, madame, what do ye think?”

“I am used, Bothwell. I am terribly used. I hae been the vizier’s favorite. Do ye still want me back?”

He began to laugh, then became serious again. “My ever honest Cat. Do ye think I dinna know what yer life has been? Angela di LiCosa made it very plain what kind of a man her brother was. If all I wanted was a body in my bed, Cat, I might—though not easily, I’ll admit—have substituted another woman for ye.” He wound her tawny hair about his hand and pulled her to him. His mouth gently brushed hers, and his warm sapphire-blue eyes smiled down at her. “But then, my dearest love, who would have sworn at me in Gaelic, or helped me to raise our bairns, or talked wi me of Scotland on the long winter nights in the years to come?”

She caught her lip in her teeth, and her eyelids closed in a futile attempt to hold back the hot tears that poured again down her cheeks.

“Aye, Cat, I love ye,” he said. “Now let us stop this foolishness. In less than two hours the sun will be rising. ‘Tis best if we’re quickly gone from here.”

The guards?” she asked.

“Conall and I dispatched them.”

“There were six. Did ye kill them all?”

“Aye.”

“The bodies?” “Where they died.”

“No! The vultures will get them, and the birds will be seen by the peasants. Someone is bound to get curious and investigate. The supplies for my week’s stay came yesterday. No one will come here for at least a week unless something is amiss. Weigh the bodies with stones and sink them into the sea. Then there will be no carrion for the birds, and therefore no curiosity.”

He shook his head admiringly. “Madame, ye constantly surprise me,” he said, and handed her a bundle from the floor. “Yer traveling clothes. Get dressed while I get Conall and attend to the other business. Susan is waiting in the boat. Go down to the landing when yer ready, and dinna be fearful of the young man there. ’Tis Esther’s great-grandson, Asher. He goes with us partway.”

“ ‘Tis nae the
young
men who frighten me, Bothwell.”

Standing up, he grinned rakishly at her. “Yer a fetching sight, madame, with yer pretty tits pointing at me like that. Would that we had some time. This bed looks comfortable.”

“Never here,” she answered him vehemently. “I’ve spent too many unhappy hours here! I’d sooner be tumbled under a hedgerow!”

“Once we are safely away from here, madame, I will see if I can accommodate ye,” he chuckled, and ducked a well-aimed pillow. Laughing, he ran from the kiosk.

Cat sprang from the bed. I am alive again, she thought triumphantly. Once more I have survived!

And she laughed aloud as she undid the bundle he had given her. She found women’s underclothes, but the dark-blue pantaloons, white shirt, vest, sash, boots, and turban of a young man. Dressing quickly, she pinned her hair tightly and covered it with a bandanna before placing the little turban on her head. Pulling on the boots, she stood up and wrapped the sash about her waist Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she unwrapped the sash, removed her shirt, and bound her full breasts with a linen cloth. Then she dressed again, adding the embroidered vest over her shirt. Another look in the mirror brought a smile to her face. No one looking at the young man would suspect him of being the vizier’s beautiful second wife!

She looked about the room a final time, but there was nothing she wanted to take with her. From her conversations with Esther Kira, Cat knew that whatever she needed for the long journey would be provided by the Kira family. She would take none of the jewelry given her by the vizier. On her right hand she wore the heart-shaped ruby that had been given her by Patrick Leslie, and the turquoise ring Esther Kira had given her to hold potions. On her left hand was the great emerald wedding band Francis had given her. She needed nothing else. She didn’t even turn back for a last look as she went through the kiosk door.

She walked swiftly through the lovely gardens. It gave her a savage pleasure to think that the man who had used her body as he might have used a dumb animal would no longer enjoy his beautiful island. That would be her small revenge on Cicalazade Pasha. He would always associate the island with her, and he would quickly hate his pleasure palace with its hundred memories.

Suddenly she stumbled over a body in the center of the neat gravel path. It was Osman. She felt no regret. Stepping over it, she continued on her way, carefully descending to the quay where the boat waited.

Exactly one week later the vizier’s caique arrived to take his wife back to the palace. There was no one waiting on the quay, and after several minutes the oarmaster climbed the stone steps to the island’s top. He found both the gardens and the kiosk empty. He called out for Osman, but his voice died in the clear morning air. It was frighteningly obvious that the island was deserted. Running back down the steps to the caique, the oarmaster shouted, “Back to the palace!”

The caique made a tight turn and glided back down the Bosporus the way it had come. The oarmaster did not even wait for his boat to dock, but leaped to the landing and ran at top speed to find Hammid.

Finding him with the lady Lateefa Sultan, the oarmaster flung himself to his knees and cried, “Disaster, Hammid! There is no one living or dead on the Island of a Thousand Flowers. It is deserted. I searched myself.”

Lateefa Sultan watched as Hammid turned ashen. Momentarily her loyalties were torn between the eunuch who had been with her almost her entire life and the beautiful woman who was her cousin. She was genuinely sorry about Hammid’s position, but she was relieved that Incili was gone. The immediate problem was Hammid. Cica Pasha was going to hold him responsible for Incili’s loss, and his anger would be fierce.