The Kadin (13 page)

15

T
HE MONTHS PASSED
, and Cyra was the only one called to Selim’s couch. Touchingly in love, she and Selim could scarcely contain their eagerness to be alone. Although the prince was affectionate and courteous to the rest of his harem, they could not help feeling slighted. Only their fondness for Cyra—and the knowledge obtained from a slave girl who had it from one of Cyra’s slave girls that the favorite had had no show of blood in over a month—prevented an unpleasant situation. Soon she would have to tell him, and one of them would be called.

Selim’s harem would have been very surprised to know that he and Cyra did not spend all their evenings together locked in passionate embrace. The prince and Cyra certainly did not neglect the physical side of their relationship, and each night left him breathless at her increased ardor, but not all their time was spent in lovemaking. In the small hours before the dawn, they talked of many things—in the beginning about themselves, and then, feeling safe with each other, about their future. Cyra did not divulge that she knew Selim would one day be sultan. She understood that he might love her, but she was still wary. In time, when she had his full trust, she would speak. The future now consisted of the children they would have, their home, and the problems of the province which he ruled for his father.

Selim had never before had a real friend, and to his amazement he realized that Cyra had become one to him. In private, as well as before the others, Cyra treated Selim with courtesy and respect, but never did she cringe or debase herself before him. He could not help but treat her in the same manner. This would always set her apart from the others.

So the days passed slowly in peace and contentment, and the fire-and love-filled nights passed too quickly. The harem and their lord lived as a family. Almost every evening they ate together—a thing unheard of in Turkish society—but Selim enjoyed his aunt and his women. Often he arranged for entertainments in the evening. Once it was an Indian fakir who magically raised a rope into the air, climbed it, and disappeared from view—reappearing a few moments later bearing a bouquet of flowers which he presented to Lady Refet Another time it was a troupe of performing animals, and once an Egyptian came with a group of dancing girls. Selim enjoyed them, but his harem did not

The prince began to know his harem as no other man might He quickly learned that the aloof Zuleika was in reality shy, and that Firousi’s merriness hid an extremely sharp mind. Amara and Iris were exactly as they appeared—sweet and docile. The fiery, knife-tongued Sarina was actually kind and openhearted, but feared rejection. He like them all, and he felt fortunate; yet Cyra consumed him completely, and for the moment Selim was content to savor the unending variety of his flame-haired slave.

And the Scots girl was content to bask in the love of her lord but never did she flaunt her good fortune, so peace was preserved in the harem. Then, at the beginning of February, she was forced to admit that her link with the moon had been broken, and she was with child. The knowledge at first delighted her and then sent her into hysterical tears. Lady Refet laughed gently.

“I felt the same way when I first knew I was with child,” she said

“It is all over,” sobbed Cyra. “I can no longer go to him, and he has summoned me for this very night”

“You may go tonight but you must tell my nephew, Cyra. He will be overjoyed to learn the news.”

The girl stamped her foot “These superstitions are ridiculous! Why can I not go to Selim after tonight?”

“They are not superstitions, my dear. Even in Europe an educated man does not practice intercourse with his pregnant wife. She might miscarry. Do you want to lose the child? Is your own pleasure more important to you than my nephew’s son?”

Noiselessly the tears poured down the girl’s face. “Not I don’t want to lose the child, but neither do I want to lose Selim. If I cannot go to him, someone else will. He will love another and forget all about me. It is this I cannot bear.”

“I am surprised at you,” chided the older woman. “Do you think so little of my dear nephew that you believe he would discard you?” She took the distraught girl into her arms. “There, my child. Weep. It is simply your condition. It will pass in a few weeks.”

“I am so ashamed,” sobbed Cyra. “You are perfectly right I expected this. I am truly happy and proud to be bearing my dearest lord’s son.”

Selim’s aunt raised an eyebrow. “You are sure it’s a son?” Her deep-blue eyes were teasing.

“Zuleika said I would bear a son, and I feel she is right”

“Then dry your eyes, my dear, or they will be puffed and red tonight”

That evening Cyra took particular pains with her appearance. She had had the sea-green brocade Selim had sent her made into a pelisse which she wore over trousers and a bodice made from the golden silk gauze which he had also presented to her. She was still as slender as ever; only a slight swelling of her belly betrayed her condition.

Around her neck she clasped the gold-and-turquoise necklace, and she fastened the matching earrings into her earlobes. Her hair was arranged in the fashion Selim loved best—parted in the center and divided into two pieces, each held by a silver ribbon, one streaming down her back and the other falling over her right breast

When the appointed hour arrived, she climbed into the familiar litter and was borne through the palace to Selim’s apartments. As she hurried in, the slaves smiled broadly at the beautiful ikbal’s impatience to be with their lord. Selim came forward to greet her.

“I have missed you, heart of my heart”

“And I you, my lord. Did you hunt or was it another trip to Constantinople?”

“Cyra, what do you know of my trips to the city?” His fingers squeezed her hand cruelly.

“My lord, you are hurting me. It is enough that I tell you I know that one day you will be sultan.”

He released her hand. “How did you come to learn this?”

“From Hadji Bey, my lord. We have all known since the beginning.”

“What beginning? Who is we?”

“Zuleika, Firousi, and I. The night before we arrived in Constantinople, Hadji Bey explained the whole situation to us and told us of the plans to make you sultan one day. Did you think it was an oversight that your father never saw us among his gediklis? We were deliberately bidden from his sight so you might choose us. Your mother planned it that way. She sent Hadji Bey to find three maidens of intelligence and beauty who he felt would be of help to you as your kadins. We were the fortunate ones chosen.”

“So,” said Selim grimly, “you and your friends were bought with the promise of riches and power.”

She turned on him, her green eyes blazing with anger. “Yes, we were bought, my lord Selim. But not by promises of any kind,-just gold. And each of us has stood naked in our shame before a crowd of leering creatures who dare to call themselves men. Some even had the audacity to demand proof of our virginity! Did Firousi ask to be torn from her bridegroom at their wedding feast? And Zuleika, destined to be the wife of the shall—did she ask to be betrayed by a common concubine and sold on the block in Baghdad? And what of my betrothed, Rudolfo di San Lorenzo? Did either he or I expect I should end like this? It was our fate and the will of Allah that this should come to pass. Do you dare to question the will of Allah? And do you dare accuse us of selling ourselves? Had we not loved you on sight, my lord, we could have betrayed you at any time!”

Selim stared in amazement at the outraged girl. He knew she had a temper, but her outburst surprised him. “So, my ‘Flame’ is truly fiery. And how could you have betrayed me?” His tone was amused and conciliatory.

“By sending word to Lady Besma. She would pay a fortune for proof of your treachery against her son.”

“And just how could that be done?” His tone was less conciliatory.

“Through one of her spies, my dear lord. Our palace has several.”

“What?” His face showed his incredulity. “How do you know this? Who are they?”

“Only Hadji Bey and Lady Refet know who they are.”

“I shall go to the agha tomorrow and demand the names of those who spy on me and my household. Then I shall eliminate them!”

“My lord, you are a child! If Hadji Bey did not allow Besma to place a few of her spies in our palace, she would become suspicious and wonder why. We cannot permit it All would be lost and you could easily lose your life.” She laughed softly. “How unskilled you are in the devices of women.”

He turned angrily and found himself staring into green eyes brimming with mischief. Cyra was not one to hold a grudge and had already forgiven his suspicions of a moment ago.

Her mood was infectious, and slowly a grin spread over his face. “By Allah, I am truly a fool! Can you forgive me, Cyra? How could I ever have doubted you or the other girls?”

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord. You have lived in danger for so long that you are naturally suspicious of everyone, but you need not fear me or the others. We are loyal.” Resting her red-gold head on his shoulder, she nestled against him. “I have a terrible temper, my lord Selim. Will you forgive this worthless slave?” She looked up and fluttered her kohl-darkened lashes at him.

His laughter was low. “You must pay the penalty for your bad temper, my little fire-eater. Unskilled I may be in the devices of women, but not in their ways.” Slipping his hand beneath her fur-lined pelisse, he fondled her familiar body. She moved so that his hand cupped her breast and rubbed teasingly against him.

His lips found the soft hollow between her neck and her shoulder, and his voice murmuring her name over and over again communicated his urgency. Turning her to face him, he found her sweet moist lips. His lips still clinging to hers, he carried her indoors to the couch.

That night their lovemaking was sweeter than it would ever be again, and when in the split second of eternity their souls touched, Cyra wept for the joy of it

She lay awake in the night, and in the dim light of the chamber gazed at the man beside her. In sleep, the cares and fears stripped away, he was vulnerable and seemed like a boy, though he was eleven years older than she. His fair skin was slightly darkened by the winter wind and sun. With his dark-gray eyes closed, the thick fringe of his lashes were like smudges of soot against his cheeks. His nose was straight and proud, and the lips that covered his even white teeth were generous despite their thinness. Unlike his brothers, he wore no beard, for once, when he was younger, he had grown one, and so regal was his look that his mother had made him shave it off lest he draw attention to himself. He had vowed never to wear a beard again until he was sultan. Stirring, he stretched his body to its full length, and Cyra thought he was at least as tall as her father.

His voice pierced her thoughts. “Why aren’t you sleeping, my little houri?”

“I am too happy.”

He buried his face in her marvelous hair.

“I cannot come to you again, Selim.”

Sitting up sharply, he looked at her.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I am with child, dearest lord.”

Staring at her, the sleep gone from his eyes, he whispered, “You are sure?”

She nodded.

“When?”

“Late summer. As the wheat ripens, so shall I Zuleika says it is a boy and he will be born under the sign of the Lion. She also says he will be a great sultan.”

“A son,” he murmured. “A son!” He crushed her in his arms and asked, “Who else knows of this?”

“Only Lady Refet”

“No one eke must know until—”

“Selim!”

“Until I have provided you with a food taster and two personal bodyguards. Once it becomes known you are with child, Besma will stop at nothing. She has been known to use poison before.”

Cyra whitened.

“Do not be frightened, sweetheart No harm will come to yon or the child. I shall go into Constantinople myself in the morning and personally purchase the slaves.”

“Let Hadji Bey help you, Selim. His instincts are infallible.”

“If I am seen at the Eski Serai, it will arouse suspicion.”

“I can send a message to Hadji Bey at dawn. He will await you in Constantinople.”

“Another secret, Cyra?”

She giggled. “We have several pigeons in the dovecote. They are a gift from Hadji Bey. Loose them, and they fly straight to his dovecote at the palace.”

“By the beard of the Prophet, the agha Mslar is a wily old devill Send your message.” He smiled and drew her down to the couch. “Our last night, eh?”

“Until the child is born.”

Then let us make the most of it When I return from the city, I shall have to go about the boring business of deflowering and teaching another frightened virgin.”

She grabbed a handful of his dark hair and yanked The prince roared in amused outrage. “Beast” she hissed at him. “Son of a mangy camel!”

Laughingly he wrestled her quiet then kissed her pouting lips. Struggling loose, she hurled several additional epithets at him. His eyebrows rose. Tour command of Turkish truly astounds me, beloved, but the night grows short.”

Melting into his arms, she cried softly, “Love me, love me, my lord Selim. We have so little time.”

16

L
ADY
R
EFET
looked sternly up at her nephew. “I do not approve, Selim. I do not approve at all.”

The prince smiled down at her from his saddle. “Nevertheless, aunt, it is my wish. We shall return within four days’ time. Be sure you guard both my treasures well.” Wheeling the horse, he called to the turbaned boy mounted next to him, “Come, lad,” and galloped off toward Constantinople, his escort of Tartars following in his wake.

Once on the main road, he turned to his companion. “Well, Firousi, how do you like your adventure?”

“Very much, my lord,” replied his turbaned companion, “but I don’t understand.”

“Cyra is with child.”

Firousi gasped.

“But no one knows except my aunt, and they must not know until I have taken steps to protect her.”

“Besma!”

“Yes,” replied the prince. “We are to meet Hadji Bey at the house of David ben Kira in Constantinople. David deals discreetly in slaves for persons of importance. I shall purchase a bodyguard and a food taster.”

“But why do you need me, my lord? You take a terrible chance. If word of this escapade should reach the wrong ears, there would be a terrible scandal.”

“I want to buy Cyra a very special gift, Firousi. I need you to help me pick it out, since you, as a woman, know her tastes perhaps better than L Dressed as a boy, you will attract little attention.”

“I don’t know whether I shall ever get this brown stain off my skin, my lord.”

“If your slaves have no luck, my little jewel, we shall try together in a few nights’ time, eh?”

Firousi was shocked. “But Cyra—” she began.

“Cyra understands that the sooner I take another ikbal, the less painful it will be for her.
I
do not wish to cause her pain.” He eyed the girl beside him. She was well disguised. The brown stain covered her skin, her hair was hidden beneath the turban, and her generous breasts were bound flat beneath a tight layer of cloth. “You are most beautiful, my dear. I begin to anticipate the conclusion of our business.” Firousi, eyeing him tremulously from beneath her lashes, did not reply.

Riding all day, they camped outside the city that night, and after the dawn prayers, they rode on into the Jewish quarter. Dismounting before the house of David ben Kira, Selim warned the girl, “Speak little, and call me master.” She nodded.

They were greeted by David ben Kira himself. He bowed. “You do my poor house great honor, Prince Selim. Please come this way. The agha kislar awaits you in my private quarters.”

Hadji Bey rose as they entered the room. “Selim, my son! You are looking well. Now, why this urgency to buy new slaves? Have I not provided your palace with enough servants?”

“Cyra did not tell you?”

“Her note simply stated you wished to purchase a bodyguard and a food taster and you needed my help.”

“Caution again,” said Selim. “I can learn much from her,” he mused. “Cyra is with child, my old friend. When word reaches Besma—and Cyra assures me it will—my father’s evil kadin may be tempted to act rashly. It will not please her, with Ahmed childless, to have me become a father.”

“Your good fortune delights me, and your precautions show wisdom.” Turning to David ben Kira, he said, “Can you provide us with such slaves?”

“Indeed, yes, my lord agha. We have an excellent selection.” He clapped his hands, murmured a few words to the attending servant, and a few minutes later the door of the room opened to admit a dozen young men.

Selim looked them over carefully and found his eye drawn to an enormous dark-brown Negro with close-cropped hair and a rebellious look; but before he could speak, David ben Kira turned to his slavemaster.

“Idiot!”—be pointed at the very slave Selim had noted—“get that wild man out of here! These slaves are for the prince, not some provincial merchant”

“Hold, David. What is wrong with the man? It appears he would suit my purpose quite well.”

“No, Highness. Arslan is flawed in the mind. He has almost killed two masters. I am selling him to the quarries.”

“Step forward,” Selim commanded. The giant stood before him. “Is this true?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Selim noted the intelligent light in the man’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because, my lord, they were cruel masters. I have been a slave since I was five, and I have known nothing but unkindness; but before that I knew tenderness and compassion. I cannot bear to see innocent young girls mistreated because of their fear, or good wives beaten because they are no longer beautiful. If this is a flaw, then I am flawed.”

Selim replied, “I do not mistreat my women, and I do have need of a strong, loyal man to guard with his very life the most precious of jewels—my wife. She is with child.”

“If you will have me, I will watch over her, but if you are cruel, lord, I cannot be responsible for my actions.”

Selim looked to Hadji Bey.

“Trust your instincts, my son.”

The prince nodded, and turned to David ben Kira. “I will take this one. Do not look so fearful, my friend. I need a eunuch such as this. His loyalty will be only to my Cyra, and no one will ever be able to bribe him”

“Very well, my lord. It will be as you say.” He motioned Arslan to the side of the room and waved the other slaves out “Now, my prince. Hadji Bey and I have already chosen a food taster. He is an Egyptian with an incredible ability to ferret out poisons, even those that have no taste. He also has the ability to make you immune to any poison. He is expensive but well worth it”

“Then our business is concluded, David.”

“Ah, but you must not leave without refreshments, my lord. I have a slave girl who makes a sherbet fit for the Prophet himself.” He clapped his hands, and two servant girls entered, one bearing a tray.

The female with the tray, a small, plain creature, stumbled against a low table and cried out, “Lord Lamerey! Tables where footstools should be.”

“Master,” whispered Firousi, “I can think of no better gift for my lady than a female slave who speaks her tongue. It would please her greatly.”

“You are right, lad. David, what price on that girl?”

“That one? Five dinars, my lord, but she is useless. I have been trying to train her as a waitress, but she is as stubborn as a mule, and twice as troublesome.”

“When a woman is troublesome, there is usually a man involved,” remarked Hadji Bey.

“True,” said David, “and in this case it is the girl’s husband. A remarkable young man. He is a scholar, and not only does he speak, read, and write several European tongues, but Turkish and Persian as well. He would be an excellent secretary.”

“How much for the four of them?”

“All four, my lord?”

“I have said it!”

“Let me see now. Fifty dinars for Arslan, my lord. One hundred for the Egyptian. A very special price to you, and I am losing money. One hundred for the secretary, and five for his useless wife. Two hundred and fifty-five gold dinars in all, my lord.”

“One hundred for the Egyptian, David. Twenty-five for Arslan, fifty for the man and his wife. One hundred seventy-five dinars, and I am being generous.”

“My lord! You will drive me into poverty! Two hundred thirty is the lowest I can go.”

“Two hundred is all I will give you.”

“Done!” replied David ben Kira. “I will include a cart and driver to transport them to your palace. Do you want them today, my lord?”

“Yes, but no cart, David. Lend me four horses. One of my slaves will return them to you the next time I come to the city. A cart will slow me down. As it is, I will not get back to my home until late tomorrow.”

David ben Kira arose. “I shall arrange it at once. You will be ready to leave within the half hour.” He motioned to the waiting slaves to follow him and left the room.

“Here, lad,” Selim called to Firousi. “Tell the girl her husband goes, too.”

Firousi walked over to the girl, whose name was Marian, and put a hand on her arm, “Don’t be frightened,” she said kindly. “My master has bought you to serve his wife, and he had also bought your husband to be his secretary. You will see him in a few moments. Now go along with David ben Kira.”

“Thank your master for me,” replied the girl tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I had been separated from Alan, I should have died. If we must be slaves together, we will serve your master well for this kindness.” She lea the room.

Firousi moved back to Selim “It is done, master. The girl is grateful and will give no trouble.”

“You make a charming boy, little turquoise,” remarked Hadji Bey.

“You knew! And I was feeling so pleased to have fooled you!”

“So you might have, my child, had you not showed me those wonderful eyes.” He turned to Selim. “A very dangerous game, my boy. Why did you bring her disguised thus? If Besma gains knowledge of this, she will use it, you may be sure.”

“I needed her to help me choose a special gift for Cyra, and she did. No one knows but Lady Refet Her absence is concealed by the ruse of a high fever. We are safe.”

“Yes, only one of the harem slaves spies for Besma.”

“Who, Hadji Bey? Give me the name.”

“Selim, Selim. If you know, you will never be able to contain yourself. Believe me, the slave involved holds an unimportant post and can hurt none of the girls.”

“Very well, my friend. You have guided me successfully so far. There is no need for me to doubt your judgment now.”

“Have you taken other ikbals, Selim?”

“No, but when we return to the Moonlight Serai, Firousi will journey down my Golden Road, eh, little page?”

Firousi blushed beneath the brown stain on her cheeks. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered.

“And the others,” continued the agha, “they please you?”

“It’s like being offered a plate of cakes after a fast, my friend. Each is more delectable than the other. The fool gobbles them up quickly, but the wise man savors each in its turn to enjoy the full flavor.”

“Well spoken, Selim, and your choices were excellent, though the Spanish girl still worries me.”

“My sharp-tongued Sarina? She hides a warm heart, Hadji Bey, and Cyra found her weakness immediately. She is clever at making things grow. We have put her in charge of the gardens, which she rules like a benevolent dictator.”

“Good” smiled the agha. “Ah, David ben Kira, we are ready to depart?”

“Yes, my lord. The prince’s new slaves are in the courtyard, mounted and waiting.”

They arose and walked to the courtyard Selim pressed a purse into the Jew’s hand. “Your price—and for you, a small token of my thanks,” he said, holding up a large yellow diamond.

The merchant, gasping, took the stone. “My lord prince—such generosity—if I can ever serve you again—”

“I shall remember, David ben Elira.”

“Well done, my son,” whispered Hadji Bey. “And now,” he said, raising his voice, “I bid you farewell.” He climbed into his litter and raised his hand in salute. Commanding his bearers to go, he disappeared through the courtyard arch.

Led by Prince Selim and his page, the new slaves and the prince’s Tartars quickly left the city behind. They camped that night beside some ancient ruins, and Firousi had time to catch her breath. As her original journey to the Moonlight Serai had taken three days, she was amazed at the speed with which they now traveled. Of course, on her first trip they had taken the main road and were slowed by the vast caravan of slaves, women, and household goods. Yesterday morning they had ridden out of the palace, taken the more direct and rougher road and arrived outside the capital before sunset On their return trip they were again on the more direct road, but their progress was slowed slightly by the presence of the female slave.

Firousi was enjoying this respite from her friends and their more civilized way of life. Raised in the Caucasus Mountains, she had camped beneath the stars many times with her father and brothers. Gazing at the sky, the subdued noise of the camp behind her, she imagined for a moment she was home again. A touch on her shoulder startled her. Turning, she looked into the face of the prince.

“What do you dream of, Firousi?”

“My homeland, my lord. I often camped with my father beneath the night sky.”

“Are you restless in your captivity, my little mountain girl?”

“Perhaps a little, my lord.”

“Soon you will have other interests, and your past with its sad memories will fade away.” He put an arm about her shoulders.

She smiled up at him. “Yes, my lord.”

“Do you love me, Firousi?”

“No, my lord. I do not know you—and perhaps, when I do, I shall still not love you—but I like you. You are a good man and a kind master. I shall, Allah willing, bear your children with pride and always be loyal to you.”

He bent down and gravely kissed her on the forehead. “I can ask no more of you than that, but you
will
love me, my jewel.”

“Perhaps, my lord.” She laughed up at him. “However, I would suggest we return to camp lest your Tartars obtain the wrong impression about their prince and class you with your brother Ahmed, who, they say, prefers young boys to girls.”

“One day I shall have you whipped for your teasing tongue. You do not show me the proper respect”

‘Yes, my lord,” she replied meekly, but her eyes sparkled merrily at his threat

Selim glowered at her, then laughed, “You are an appallingly impudent maiden.”

Dawn had barely shown itself the next morning when the prince and his companions were on their way. Firousi had dropped back to ride with Marian.

They arrived at their destination shortly after noon. Selim turned his new slaves over to Ali, his chief eunuch. The young English couple presented him with an unusual problem. Married slaves were not a common event, and normal men were not permitted in any other man’s harem, Ali was quick to point out a small cottage near the edge of the gardens which might house the couple. The prince gave orders that the little house be made habitable at once.

“When you are not on duty,” he told his secretary, “you will live here. You will answer to Turkish names. Alan, you will answer to Yussef. Marian, there will be no need to change your name. We have a similar one, so we can pronounce it Yussef will teach you Turkish.”