The Kadin (14 page)

“I already speak some, my lord. My husband taught me.

“How is this possible?”

“Alan—ah, Yussef, was coming to Turkey to be a clerk in the merchant house of a friend. His father has a small trading business in London and wanted him to learn about the East My husband’s father says future trade of importance will come from the East Yussef began teaching me Turkish months ago, when he knew we would be coming here. My Turkish is not perfected—as you can see, my lord—but since I shall be using it every day, it soon will be.”

“I think I have found a valuable servant in you, Marian. Take good care of my wife, and you will never want for anything.”

“I will, my lord I shall never forget that it was your kindness that kept my husband and me together. Had you not rescued us, we would have been separated”

He dismissed them in a kindly fashion and turned to Firousi. “I shall be sending for you soon, my jewel. Slip in through the secret entrance and see that you get all that stain off. I shall personally inspect your lovely skin myself tonight”

She flushed and fled him. He stood for a moment a smile upon his sensual lips as he thought of the delight his gifts would give his beloved Cyra and the pleasure Firousi would give him now that Cyra could no longer share his bed.

17

L
ATE THAT AFTERNOON
, the women of Selim’s harem gathered together in the main room of their quarters. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows at the end of the room, and in the center of the floor a round, raised open hearth blazed merrily, taking the chill off the late winter’s day.

Lady Refet quietly presided over the women while plying her needle through her ever-present embroidery. Amara and Iris were working together on a woven tapestry. Sarina, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by parchments and pens, pored over plans for their first summer garden. Cyra, Firousi, and Zuleika sat around the hearth playing a word game. Each in turn would point to an object and say its name in Turkish. The other two would have to give the same object its name in another tongue—not their own. The three friends were clever at languages, and in this way increased their knowledge.

Cyra’s heart leaped at the entrance of the prince’s messenger. Then, remembering her condition, she dug her fingernails into her palm. Who would it be? Which one would take her place? His eagerness to take a new ikbal seemed rather indecent to her, and she felt a twinge of anger run through her.

The messenger stood before Firousi, who flushed, then whitened. “Most fortunate of maidens, I have the honor to inform you that our master, Prince Selim, may he live a thousand years, requests your presence tonight at the ninth hour.”

“I hear and obey,” replied the blond girl in a shaking voice.

The messenger bowed and left the room Their chatter stilled, the other girls looked from Cyra to Firousi and back again. Sarina broke the silence.

“So, our lord grows tired of green eyes.”

“But not eager for your yellow ones,” snapped Zuleika, squeezing Cyra’s hand hard. “Your tongue is no less sharp than the bee’s sting.”

Cyra broke the tension. “It is not seemly I go to my lord’s couch now that I carry his son beneath my heart”

Breaking into an excited babble, they rushed to crowd about her.

“Stop!” laughed Cyra. “I cannot answer your questions if you all talk at once.” Immediately they were silent “My son will be born in late summer. I did not tell you before because I wanted to be sure. Then our lord had to be told, and he asked that I keep our secret until he returned from Constantinople.”

Firousi began to weep softly, but Cyra placed an arm about her friend’s shoulders.

“I know what you are thinking, dear sister. Don’t Have you forgotten all we have learned?”

“You do not mind?”

“Of course I mind, but it is our fate. Since our lord Selim must take another, I am happy it is you, rather than some devious stranger who would sow dissension in our household.”

“Then you will forgive me my foolishness?”

“It is already forgotten. Would you like to wear my brocade pelisse tonight? It is almost the color of your eyes and will be most flattering. I will have Fekriye take up the hem for you.”

Firousi nodded, and a little smile played on her lips. “I am a donkey,” she said, “but suddenly I was so afraid.”

Cyra took her friend by the hand and led her to a quiet corner of the room, “Let us sit and talk,” she said, settling herself on some pillows. “You must not be frightened, Firousi. There is no need. Selim is the gentlest and most considerate of lords.”

“But you are his wife.”

“I am his ikbal,” admonished Cyra gently. “If Allah wills it I shall be his kadin in five months. Do not I beg you, tell me you have fallen back on your European morality? There is no future in it and it is very foolish of you. With luck, this time next year we shall both be nursing sons, who will grow up together, the dearest of friends, as we are. Was it not you who a year ago in Crete told me there is no return?”

Firousi smiled. “You are right, and I should be rejoicing now. What girl does not envy me or would not change places with me? Come.” She rose and pulled Cyra up with her. “Help me choose what I shall wear tonight You know our master’s taste best of all.” And together they hurried off to Firousi’s small room

“You would think she had been born in the East instead of the West” observed Zuleika softly to Lady Refet

“Her courage is great,” replied the older woman. “She loves my nephew dearly, and this cannot be easy for her.”

Selim chose that moment to visit his harem. Walking in unannounced, he went over to his aunt and kissed her. “Where is Cyra? I have a gift for her.”

Lady Refet spoke to the attending slave. “Fetch Lady Cyra at once. Tell her the prince is here.”

Cyra came quickly, Firousi following. “My dear lord,” she said, bowing low.

“Beloved,” he murmured. His eyes caressed her gently. Then, remembering where he was, he spoke. “I have brought you a gift from Constantinople, my love.” He clapped his hands, and the head eunuch, Ali, ushered in a group of four people.

Selim drew the one female in the group forward. “This is Marian, sweetheart She is yours. Greet your new mistress in your native tongue, Marian.”

“I will try to serve you well, my lady,” the girl said.

Cyra’s eyes lit up. “Selim! A Borderer! How wonderful! Where on earth did you find her?”

“A Borderer? But she said she was English”

Cyra laughed. “Forgive me, my lord. You could not know. Of course she is English, but she comes from the northernmost of that land, which borders my own country. Both these people, the English Borderers and the Scots Borderers, sound very much alike. Had you brought me a London girl, I should have been hard pressed to understand her.”

“Do not the English and the Scots speak with the same tongue?”

“The people of Magnesia speak Turkish, yet do they sound the same as those of Constantinople?”

“I see. Then she pleases you?”

“Yes, my lord. We Scots and English have been known to fight, but so far from home a fellow islander is welcome. Is it not so, Marian?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Selim next drew from the little group a man. “This is Yussef. He is Marian’s husband, and although I disapprove of buying married Christian slaves, I did buy him because he is a scholar and will make an excellent secretary.” Yussef bowed, and Cyra smiled back. She knew the reason Selim had bought these two—having tasted the joys of love himself, he realized the pain it would cause the young English couple to be parted. Wisely she held her tongue.

“I have arranged for them,” continued the prince, “to live in the small cottage at the edge of the gardens. In this way they will not be separated, but Marian may go to the cottage only when she is not needed by you. Ptolemy!”

The old Egyptian stepped forward. “This is Ptolemy, my love. He is an expert in the art of poisons and will be your food taster. You are to eat nothing, even a sweetmeat, without checking with him first He will both taste and drink before you. And now, your bodyguard. This is Arslan. He has almost killed two masters for cruelty to their wives. In his care you will be safe.” He grinned at her. “What do you think of my gifts, sweetheart?”

“Magnificent! And overly generous, my prince. Thank you.”

He gazed at her for a long moment then caressed her cheek with his fingers. “I shall eat alone this evening,” he said, and, turning on his heel, he left the harem, followed by Yussef and Ptolemy.

She gazed longingly after him, then, turning, called, “Zuleika, Firousi. Come over, and bring Marian.” She seated herself beside Lady Refet as her friends and new slave joined them.

“Do you understand our language, Marian?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then tell us about yourself. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, my lady. I come, as you know, from the English Borders.”

“Then,” said Cyra, “many’s the time you’ve played host to the Scots.”

“Aye, my lady, many’s the time, and most recently, before we left, we played host to King Jamie’s rogue Lord Bothwell.”

“Indeed,” laughed Cyra. “I remember him well.”

Marian continued, “I am the daughter of a well-to-do farmer. A year ago I was married to Alan Browne, my cousin. Alan is the younger son of a London merchant and was in great favor with the Countess of Whitley. Several months ago the countess decided Alan would benefit by working for her trading interests in the Levant”

“A countess in trade?”

“She was not born a countess, my lady. She was the only daughter of a wealthy goldsmith. The earl, her late husband, needed money, and the countess’s father wanted a title for his daughter. She is very beautiful.”

Cyra nodded. “Go on.”

“We left England on one of the countess’s ships. Our voyage was smooth and pleasant once we left the Channel and moved south. We were only two days into the Mediterranean when our vessel was attacked by pirates.”

“Did they harm you, Marian?”

“Oh, no! I told them I was with child, and they said a slave who was a proved breeder was worth more, so I was left in peace.”

“Are you with child?”

“I lost the babe before we reached Constantinople, my lady.”

There were murmurs of sympathy all around for the English girl.

“Well, you are safe now,” said Cyra, “Both you and your Alan.”

A slave entered bringing a light supper for the ladies, who, after their afternoon of excitement fell to it eagerly. Even Firousi, her nervousness gone, ate with gusto. As they finished, Sarina moved close to Cyra.

“Would you like to see my plans for the summer gardens tonight, Cyra?”

Cyra stared at her for a moment then, realizing what the girl was trying to do, smiled and said, “Yes. Come to my quarters at nine. We’ll make a party, just the two of us. I have some of those honey sesame cakes you love so.”

Zuleika hissed in Sarina’s ear, “If you cause her one instant’s pain with your viper’s tongue, I will personally slit your throat.”

“What makes you think you and Firousi are her only friends?” whispered Sarina. “Do I not also have eyes to see her pain?”

At the ninth hour of the evening, a gilded Utter waited outside the women’s quarters. Lady Refet and Cyra conducted Firousi to it Holding back her tears, Cyra kissed her friend and whispered, “Know only joy, dearest Firousi.”

As the Utter moved off down the hall, Sarina put an arm around her red-haired companion and said, “Where are those cakes you promised me? My mouth waters for them.”

Cyra was touched by the thoughtfulness of the Spanish girl. There was no reason for the Sarina to be kind to her. Cyra was the favorite, the beloved of Prince Selim, the fortunate mother of his unborn child; and if Zuleika was correct Cyra would have a son and would become Selim’s bas-kadin. Cyra had everything and had been cosseted and petted since her capture. Sarina was merely one of Selim’s gediklis, the girl who was clever at growing things and therefore of some use. And yet Sarina had somehow felt the favorite’s anguish at seeing her best friend take her place in the prince’s bed and had offered Cyra her garden plans as a diversion.

Sarina had been to the favorite’s suite only once—on the morning following Cyra’s first night with the prince. She had not stayed long, and now it gave Cyra pleasure to show the Spaniard about the lavishly furnished rooms, with their thick rugs, beautiful inlaid furniture, and rainbow of pillows.

Afterward, Sarina spread her carefully drawn plans on a low table and explained to Cyra exactly what would grow where.

“Of course,” she said “now that you have this suite, I shall change my plans for your garden to suit your tastes.”

“What did you have planned?” asked Cyra.

“Roses. Gold of Ophir roses.”

“Marvelous I They are my favorite. Against the green of the bushes and trees in my glen, the white marble of the balustrade, and the blue mosaic of the fountain, they will be perfect”

Sarina smiled. “Do yon really like it, or are you just being the diplomat again?”

“No, I am not being a diplomat I think the gold roses will be lovely. You are clever with gardens. I don’t have the patience you do. You really love plants and flowers, don’t you?”

“When I was a child I used to follow my father about the duke’s gardens. I learned a great deal from him.”

“Do you ever miss him?”

“He is dead,” said Sarina. “He died the year before I came to Constantinople. My mother, brothers, sisters, and I returned to my mother’s village. It is on the sea near the town of Málaga. Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand are freeing Spain from the Moors, but they often raid our coast taking captives for sale as slaves. They lay waste to everything, and what livestock they can’t carry off, they slaughter. The people of our village became tired of having their friends and relatives carried off, so we built a stone tower on a high hill overlooking the town. We kept a watch at all times, and if the Moorish ships were spotted approaching, the sentinel would ring the tower bell to warn the people. One day the bell rang, and, taking what we could, we fled into the hills. We were halfway to our hiding place when I realized my cat was missing. I thought I would have time enough to go back and get him. I reached my house safely, grabbed Pedro, and then was captured leaving. I was taken to Algiers, sold to a slave dealer from Constantinople, and then bought by a eunuch from the sultan’s palace.”

“They did not hurt you?”

Sarina tossed her chestnut curls. “Holy Mother! No! A beautiful girl is worth twice the price if she is a virgin.”

Cyra decided to change the subject As happy as she was, her own road to Turkey still pained her. “Do you really like cats?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Sarina. “Despite the fact a cat was responsible for my enslavement I still love them.”

Cyra called to Marian. “Fetch the basket by my bed, Marian.”

The girl hastened to obey, and a moment later returned carrying a reed basket which she placed upon the table. Sarina cried out in delight and lifted from the basket a squirming, mewing kitten.

“Selim gave me a cat,” said Cyra, “and several weeks ago the little vixen presented me with five kittens. Please take any two of them. The coal-black belongs to Zuleika. I was beginning to despair of finding them homes.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried the Spaniard. She chose a tiger-striped kitten and a fluffy gray one and cuddled them, one against each cheek. “What darlings! Do you think Lady Refet will let me keep them in the harem?”