The Kadin (11 page)

It would take a good month to get his palace into order, and if he must remain in the constant presence of this virgin temptress, he could not be responsible for his actions. He had promised her a scented, moonlit chamber, and he did not think it would do his cause any good to break that promise.

He might of course, take one of the other girls to his bed, but he did not want another, and it might hurt Cyra. It surprised him to find he did not want to hurt her. Swiftly he stood up, and, striding back to the camp, he sought out his aunt

“I am going hunting,” he told her. “This domestic uproar is no place for a man! It should be a month before the palace is habitable. I will return then.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he mounted his horse and, shouting to his Tartars to follow him, rode off.

12

T
HE SLAVE
sent to Hadji Bey returned with the message that the agha kislar himself would be arriving by the following morning to survey the situation. Cyra casually tossed him a small bag of coins. “Serve me well, and you will never lack,” she said softly. The slave flashed her a knowing smile.

When the agha arrived he was not alone. With him came a caravan bearing luxurious tents, food, and additional slaves. By sunset the prince’s household was comfortably settled, and the fragrance of lamb kebabs drifted through the encampment

When night fell, the residents of the small tent city settled down to sleep. Hadji Bey and Lady Refet remained talking alone in her tent

“I would have thought my dear Bajazet would have seen to the repair of my sister’s palace.”

“I see Besma’s fine hand in this business,” replied the eunuch, “but never mind. I have already spoken to the sultan of the few minor repairs necessary, and received his permission.”

“Minor repairs!”

“A small stretching of the truth, perhaps,” remarked her companion. “However, it is not imperative that our lord be informed of the extent of the repairs. He is also less likely to mention such unimportant matters to Besma She will do a great deal of speculating, and it will be very difficult for her to place spies within our ranks.”

“If she has not already done so.”

“Impossible! You know I personally kept the new slaves given the prince segregated from the rest of the palace people. The workmen arriving at dawn I selected myself. Nevertheless, we shall keep close watch. Nothing must be done to arouse the suspicion of that she-wolf. When the prince’s household is settled, I shall allow her to place a spy or two. There will be nothing to report, and in a year or so Besma will be lulled into a false sense of security. She has enough enemies in the Eski Serai to worry about without being overly concerned with a minor prince living several days’ journey from her precious Ahmed”

“Sometimes your sense of strategy amazes even me, old friend,” said Lady Refet

“I shall not rest until Lady Kiusem’s son succeeds Sultan Bajazet”

Refret gazed hard at the proud black man across from her. “Did you love my sister so much, Hadji Bey?”

“I loved her as only a man who is not a man can love. She was my mother, my sister, my friend When I came to the harem, a frightened little boy of nine, I had been torn from my family, cruelly castrated, and carried from my homeland. Most boys of my age died from castration. I was one of the fortunate ones, but at that time I did not know it Kiusem saw my fright though she was just a child herself. You remember how she took me under her wing. When she became the sultan’s ikbal, I became her head eunuch. When her son was born and the old agha died I was, thanks to her influence, given the post I owe everything to her, and I have always shared her dream of Selim’s succession. She saw, as I did, the degenerate, warped man that Besma has raised Ahmed to be. My lady is dead, but you, Refet and I live. We will make Kiusem’s dream become a reality.”

The campares burned low, the night waned, and slowly the new day lightened the eastern sky. The encampment came alive with activity. The workmen arrived from the city to begin their task of restoring the Moonlight Serai to its former elegance.

Cyra, with Firousi and Zuleika in attendance, explored the small palace checking for needed repairs, while the Greek girl, Iris, and the Indian maiden, Amara, jointly took over supervision of the household slaves and set them to various tasks. Sarina, well veiled, walked through what had once been the gardens. She made mental notes and without delay set a group of slaves to work removing the heavy undergrowth and the weeds that had so long ruled the area.

The gardens, free of weeds and brush, were tilled, fertilized, and newly planted with thousands of spring bulbs, flowering shrubs, and fruit trees of every kind. Expectantly they awaited the spring. The air was fragrant with late roses and other autumn flowers transplanted from the sultan’s greenhouses.

Within a month the Moonlight Serai was transformed back to its past glory and sat like a fine jewel amid the green hills. Its exterior had been scrubbed with sand to remove the dirt The broken columns, windows, ironwork, and fountains had been restored. In the kitchens the ovens grew warm again, and the pantries were full. The roofs of the outer buildings were newly thatched, and in the freshly cleaned and painted stalls the royal horses neighed contentedly.

Within, furnishings brought from the storehouses of the Eski Serai had been skillfully placed. Lamps were hung, rugs laid. Cyra, in her first inspection of the palace, had found a small wing overlooking both the sea and the the hills, which she decreed would be the harem.

To gain entrance, one had to pass through large double doors which opened into an inside waiting room. There the local female vendors might come to show and sell their goods to the prince’s women. To the right of the main door was a paneled door opening into a small private anteroom which let to the rooms of the harem. The main room was a large, square salon whose far end looked out through a wall of leaded-pane windows into the harem garden, which faced the sea. Here Selim’s harem could walk in complete privacy. To the left of the salon a hall led to the harem baths. To the rear right was an arch opening into a long corridor. On the left side of the corridor were six small bedrooms, each with its own separate outer chamber for a eunuch or slave. On the right side of the corridor were Lady Refet’s rooms—a nicely proportioned private salon and bedroom, each of which faced her own small, secluded garden.

It was now understood that Cyra, with Zuleika and Firousi, would oversee the running of the household until a competent slave could be trained to handle the situation. Amara and Iris continued to oversee the household slaves, and Sarina ruled the gardeners like a Tartar warlord.

One afternoon, a horseman came galloping up the newly graveled road to the palace. He was immediately brought to Lady Refet

“Prince Selim will arrive by late afternoon,” the soldier reported.

Upon hearing this, the six maidens took action. Sarina went to the gardens. Firousi hurried to the kitchens to inform the cooks that tonight’s meal must be without flaw. Amara and Iris marshaled the house servants and gave instructions that the prince’s rooms must be cleaned and freshened immediately. Cyra and Zuleika flew from one place to another overseeing all the preparations.

Returning to their quarters, the six girls descended to the baths. Lady Refet smiled to herself and wondered how long this era of peace and cooperation would last now that her nephew was returning

Selim arrived and much to his delight was greeted by a beautiful home, his aunt and six lovely girls who smiled shyly at him from behind their sheer veils.

“Well, nephew, do you approve of your house?” asked Lady Refet as she escorted him to his new quarters.

“Frankly, I am amazed. When I left I did not expect to return to such perfection. Even the gardens look as if they had been here forever. How in Allah’s name did you do it?”

“I didn’t”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“Do you not remember? You left Cyra in charge. She and the other women of your harem have created this miracle. If you like the gardens, thank Sarina. If the cooking pleases you, Firousi is responsible. Your slaves are being trained by Iris and Amara. Zuleika has seen to the furnishings, having twice traveled in secret to Constantinople to choose them from the seraglio storerooms. Over it all, Cyra has ruled and administered with a firm but kindly hand. You are truly blessed to own such a harem.”

“Indeed they seem clever, but are they as skilled in other matters? Or have I chosen a group of Amazons to warm my bed?”

“Bah,” snapped his aunt “Would you prefer six fat lazy, and selfish women instead? I have lived practically my whole life in Turkey, and if you do not have enough sense to realize the treasures you have, then you are a fool beyond belief! Your girls excelled in the classes on those ‘other matters.’ I doubt you will suffer any disappointments! You men are all alike. Had you found your house a pigsty, no amount of skill in carnal marten would have pleased you.”

Selim burst into laughter. “Oh, aunt,” he gasped, wiping the tears from his eyes, “my mother always said you were the serious twin. I am but teasing you.” He put an arm about her and kissed her cheek.

Lady Refet sniffed, but a little smile flickered on her lips. “You are the age of a man, but you still play tricks like a small boy.”

He chuckled and, trying to make amends, asked, “Will you take supper with me this evening?”

“Ah, I had almost forgotten. Your maidens wondered—if you were not overly fatigued from your trip—if you would dine in the harem this evening. You really should, Selim. They have worked so hard to please you, and they hardly know you.”

“Very well, aunt I have been in the company of men for over a month now, and it is time I came to know my damsels. Tell them I will come.”

Lady Refet bowed courteously to her nephew and departed.

That evening Selim sat cross-legged at the head of his table and stared in frank delight at the girls about him. They were like the flowers in his garden—Amara in pale sky-blue, Sarina in lime-green, Iris in peach, Zuleika in peacock-blue, Firousi in dusky rose, and Cyra in a soft wisteria color. Their unveiled faces were a pretty mixture of races and cultures. He began to feel a slight stirring of desire. It had been over a month since he had lain with a woman—unless you counted that savage little nomad girl he had surprised one day while hunting. Selim, like all Ottoman princes, was a healthy and virile man.

Firousi, smiling up at him, asked, “Might I sing for you, my lord? Songs from my homeland? Cyra has studied my native language and can translate them for you.”

He nodded, and a slave brought a stringed instrument, which Firousi began to strum Her songs were merry, and the silvery-blond played and sang well Cyra softly spoke the words to Selim, occasionally blushing at the more ribald parts. The prince laughed heartily. Then Firousi began a soft, romantic Persian love song. Rising quietly, Sarina began to dance, her slim body moving suggestively to the music.

Selim glanced at the other girls. He was definitely beginning to feel the need for a woman that night He had decided, the afternoon he sat by her at the pool, that Cyra would be the first of his maidens to come to his bed—Cyra, cool, competent and infinitely desirable. What fires smoldered within that lovely white body?

Motioning to a slave, he told him to bring his aunt to his quarters when he signaled an end to the evening. The slave bowed. For a while longer he allowed his harem to entertain him, then, smiling his pleasure at them, he ended the evening.

Chattering among themselves, the six girls reviewed the evening with pride. It had gone well; Prince Selim was obviously pleased with them. They did not notice Lady Refet’s absence until she reappeared among them.

“My nephew has requested a specific maiden to join him this night”

The chatter stopped, and they gazed, half-frightened, at her.

“Cyra, you have one hour to prepare yourself. Go now and do so.”

13

A
S THE FIVE
wide-eyed girls watched, Lady Refet led Cyra to the waiting litter. For months they had planned and dreamed of the moment when one of them would be chosen to go to their master’s bed. Strangely they were happy for Cyra. Though each was a trifle envious that she had not been chosen, at the same time, each was glad she was not to be the first

Picking up the litter, the slaves moved swiftly down the hallway to the prince’s quarters and through the bronze doors that led to their lord’s apartment In the silence of the dimly lit corridor, even the reassuring patter of the slaves’ feet on the tiled floor could not still Cyra’s pounding heart Setting the litter down before a carved wooden door, the eunuch who accompanied them whispered, “Go. Our lord awaits his pleasure.”

On trembling legs, Cyra allowed herself to be handed out of the litter, and, reluctantly pushing the door open, she entered the prince’s chambers.

It was a pleasant medium-sized room, with a tiled stove in a corner, its fire glowing softly. The walls were hung with thick Kir-Shehr carpets in hues of blue, green, and red. Highly polished brass lamps cast a warm glow, and beneath her feet which seemed to have turned to ice, she felt the softness of another rug.

The room was Spartan in its furnishings, yet rich in its accessories. To the left was a raised marble dais the color of cream, upon which rested a square bed with gold-colored velvet hangings. By the door sat a large wooden chest banded in gilded leather. In a far corner was a low, round table surrounded by multicolored silk cushions. A tall silver censer filled with fragrant burning aloes stood by the bed Directly in front of her, the room opened into a private garden facing the sea. His voice came to her from the garden.

“Come here to me, Cyra.”

Entering the garden, she fell to her knees, her head touching the ground. He raised her up and gravely kissed her on the forehead.

“Never prostrate yourself before me again. It is the act of a menial slave, not an intelligent woman.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He led her to the balustrade overlooking the sea. “The moon on the water cannot rival your beauty, my dove.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He scrutinized her closely. “By the Prophet’s beard, they have decked you in the traditional finery, have they not?”

“Yes, my lord.”

A smile on his lips, he fingered the veils, and she shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“No wonder. These garments are meant to reveal, not to warm.” He laughed softly. “At the foot of the bed is a woolen robe. Wrap yourself in it”

Reentering the bedchamber, she removed the six veils that covered her and slipped into the soft, white wool robe. It fastened beneath her breasts and fit as if it had been made for her. Moving to return to the garden, she saw the prince standing in the doorway watching her. He, too, wore a long, loose woolen robe.

“Warmer now?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“So far this evening you have said Yes, my lord’ three times, and Thank you, my lord’ twice. You have been much more articulate on other occasions.”

Looking at him, she whispered, her voice close to tears, “I am sorry, my lord.”

He gazed at her a moment A devilish look entered his eyes, and he moved swiftly toward her. Sobbing, she ran from him, to be stopped suddenly by the sound of his laughter.

“I thought so,” he said. “You are still frightened of me. Rest easy, my sweet Cyra. I have yet to force a woman—though once I was tempted.”

“Oh, my lord. I am so ashamed! Please forgive me.”

Moving to her side, he gently put his arm about her. “Come and sit by me, little virgin.” Drawing her down on a pile of cushions, he continued. “Now listen to me. Do you know why I went away after our meeting at the pool?”

“I thought you were displeased with me.”

“No, I was not angry. I was afraid Afraid that if I stayed near you, I should forget my promise to you and possess you by force. Do you smell the aloes, my little one? And do you see through the windows a full moon? Did I not promise you these? Mine are not the actions of a man bent on rape, my precious little fool.”

“I did not think, my lord”

“Which, I have noted, is very unlike you, Cyra. Could it be that you perhaps return some of that which I feel for you?”

He turned her toward him. Her head was lowered hut he could see the blush on her checks.

“Look at me.”

Shyly she raised her face to his, and he was blinded by her shining eyes. Allah, he intoned wordlessly, Allah give me the strength not to ravish her instantly. He bent his head and lightly kissed her mouth.

“You did not faint!” he exclaimed in mock surprise. “Dare I try again?”

She giggled “?es, please, my lord When you are gentle I am not afraid”

This time he drew her into his arms. Her firm young body with its soft skin delighted him. Their lips met, and what he had meant to be a short kiss lengthened and increased in sweetness. He felt her arms wrap about his neck, and then, to his amazement, her little tongue brushed his teeth. Shuddering, he loosed her.

“Little virgin,” his voice was low, “little virgin, if you tempt me further, I may succumb.”

“I am afraid my lord, but I am but a woman.”

“My poor child” he said. “In my delight of you I had forgotten how teirifying the first venture into love can be. Undoubtedly they had drummed into you your responsibility to please me, and the fact that, should you fail, your life would be over.”

Tenderly he gathered her into his arms, his lips brushing against her fragrant hair. The freshness of her scent, the closeness of her body sent a stab of desire through him. I must not hurry her, he thought, as his lips moved along her cheek.

Then she turned her face up to him, and his mouth found hers again. Their breaths mingled. Her arms went about his neck, and she pressed against him. With a groan he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

She protested the loss of his lips as he placed her against the pillows and then lay propped on one arm, gazing down at her. His hands were clenched into fists that opened and closed violently as he restrained himself from falling on her. He bent, and tentatively his tongue explored her mouth. Then, unable to wait any longer, he moved his hands to her breasts. She quivered as his fingers impatiently opened the clasp of her robe and touched the soft flesh. His other hand now moved along the satin of her inner leg and up to the warmth of her thigh.

“No!”

Stopping, he gazed for a long moment at her full young breasts, flat belly, and long, slender legs. A sigh escaped him. “Ah, Cyra! If the stars could but see you thus, they would put out their lamps for shame of their own ugliness.”

She moved to draw the two halves of her robe together.

“Hold!” he commanded. “It pleases me to look at you.”

She paled at the sharpness of his words, then blushed, and he laughed. A bold hand cupped her breast. He could feel the dainty nipple harden against his thumb, and her heart beating wildly against his palm.

“Say my name,” he demanded. “I have never heard you speak it”

“Selim,” she whispered.

“Again.” Releasing her breast his hand brushed the curve of her hip.

“Selim.”

Reaching up, he loosened her hair, and it tumbled like a sunset over her shoulders.

“How fair you are,” he murmured almost to himself. “I have known many beautiful women, but never have I seen one as exquisite as you. Little virgin, I want you. If I must wait in order to win your heart, I will wait; but by Allah, I would take you now if I dared!”

She drew him down to her. “Yes, my lord,” Cyra said softly.

He looked at her wonderingly, and she smiled softly back at him. Then she was beneath him, and he heard the word “Gently” pounding in his head as his throbbing manhood entered her. Her maidenhead blocked his passage, and, feeling her body tense, he stopped for a moment to tenderly kiss her face and stroke her silken hair. Gradually she relaxed, and in that instant he swiftly plunged through the barrier.

She did not cry out, nor did her green eyes close. Instead, they widened in surprise at the sweetness of the pain, then in wonder at the pleasure she felt racing through her body. She heard a low, animal moan and, startled, realized it came from her own throat

At that moment Cyra felt herself plunged into a whirlpool of pain and delight Her lithe body arched to meet him; her young breasts, their nipples hard, pressed against his chest She felt him moving rhythmically within her, and as the pain subsided, she was drawn into a whirling vortex of dizzying warmth.

Suddenly she sobbed his name, and tears spilled onto her cheeks. He buried his lips in her hair, and then unable to control any longer the storm of passion he had contained he released it into her. throbbing body.

In the split second that their souls touched he lost himself to her forever. He adored her. He could not get enough of her. She belonged to him completely, and yet it was he who felt enslaved

The moon had set and he looked over at the sleeping girl. She lay on her side facing him, one arm beneath her head His eyes feasted on her naked body—the moist pearly sheen of her skin, the coral-tipped nipples of her breasts, the sooty fringe of her lashes against her cheek, her hair a red-gold mass of disarray against the pillows. He shuddered with hunger for her, but remembering how newly opened the bud of her maidenhead was, he rose instead from the bed and going to the door, called a slave to bring a basin of warm water, linen, cool drinks, and sweet cakes.

When all he had requested had been brought and placed by the bed, he gently rolled the sleeping girl upon her back. Dipping the soft linen into the scented water, he tenderly sponged the dried blood from her thighs. A slave should have done this, but he wanted no one else in the room to break the spell their love had created.

Finished, he pushed the basin aside and after drawing a light cover over the still form, walked out onto the terrace. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the cool air, and slowly his mind began to clear. I am in love! The words rang jubilantly in his head. Never before had Selim Khan had a real relationship with a woman. There had been soft, compliant bodies upon which he had vented his desire, but these had lasted no more than a night or two.

She had bewitched him, his little love. Never before had he felt the emotions that now assailed him. He felt loving, tender, and protective. How could one innocent little girl stir up so much confusion in a grown man’s heart and mind? He shook his head and walked back inside. He wanted to talk with her, hear her musical voice, and know that she felt the same.

Taking a cup of fruit juice in one hand, he sat down on the bed and playfully ran his other hand down the curve of her body. She murmured in soft protest and then, stretching like a newly awakened baby, opened her eyes. He handed her the cup, and she drank greedily.

“Have I slept long, my lord? I have never felt so rested.”

“A few hours, little love.”

He could not take his eyes off her, and she flushed shyly beneath his gaze. Placing the cup on the table near the bed, she drew his head down to her breasts.

“If you continue to stare at me so, my Selim, I shall burst into flame and become a cinder.”

She looked at the man who lay contentedly on her breasts. “Have I pleased you, my lord?” The power of her conquest sang in her voice.

Looking up at her, his eyes twinkling, his voice amused, he murmured. “You are incomparable, o moon of my delight!”

Realizing the foolishness of her question, she turned her face from him and giggled. The prince sprang from their couch, clutched her hand, and vowed passionately that never had one such as she graced his bed. They both dissolved into gales of laughter, and the slaves outside the door nodded to one another that their master’s first ikbal must indeed be wise to please her young lord so much that they could laugh so happily in the midst of their love-making.

She pulled him tumbling back into the bed, and he looked down on her. “If you tell anyone of this farce, I shall strangle you,” he glowered, but his eyes were laughing.

“My lord, I am well aware of your position,” she answered him, and he realized their silly byplay was something she would never share with anyone, because it was theirs alone. Was it possible she loved him a little? he wondered.

Cradled in each other’s arms, they talked softly until they fell asleep.

She woke at a touch of her shoulder. “My lady, it is almost dawn,” said the slave.

Nodding, she rose slowly.

“Where are you going, Cyra?”

“It is almost dawn, my lord Selim. Custom demands that I return to the women’s quarters.”

“You will come again?” His eyes adored her. “When my lord commands me.”

“Tonight?”

Her brilliant smile assented. “My lord must officially summon me.”

“You will be summoned.” He stood, picked her up, and carried her to the waiting litter. The astounded slaves kept their faces impassive as they padded back down the cold, silent corridor.

Cyra thought how frightened she had been but a few hours past Now her heart felt as if it would burst with happiness and joy.

The litter returned her to the harem where Lady Refet waited. Cyra ran to her.

“Oh, madam, I am so happy.”

“And so you should be,” smiled the older woman. “Now, I have ordered the masseuse, and your bath awaits. Then to bed, my child.”

Cyra allowed the bath attendant to sponge the perfumed water over her, and the masseuse to lull her overexcited body and mind into a more restful state. When they had finished, Lady Refet appeared again.

“Come, dear child. I will escort you to your new quarters.”

“I am not to go to my old room, madam?”

“It would not be fitting for Prince Selim’s ikbal to sleep in the quarters of an ordinary gediklis,” replied the woman. “For several weeks now, my nephew has had the slaves working secretly on your apartments. They have been decorated to please just you.”

“But he has been away, and returned only today.”