The Kadin (20 page)

Toward late afternoon a weary bird fluttered through the open portico into Cyra’s salon. Picking the exhausted creature up, she felt its heartbeat beneath her hand. Brave soldier, she thought, removing the capsuled message from its leg. Giving the bird to a slave, she instructed that it be fed and watered before being returned to the cote.

She sat down and, opening the container, withdrew a slip of paper. The message in Hadji Bey’s familiar hand was written in the dialect of the agha’s native land. He had taught Selim’s kadins this ancient tongue when they had first come to Turkey. It was used in all their personal correspondence, thus confounding would-be spies.

The message was brief. Selim and the rest of the imperial family was safe. The palaces, public and government buildings were damaged, but not badly. The capital, however, was in ruins. Huge waves had poured over the city walls. Scores of people were dead or injured. The sultan and the court were moving to Adrianople. Selim would accompany them before returning home. Under no circumstances were they to leave the palace.

Reading the message through twice, she placed it in a small brazier and watched until the coals completely consumed it She called to a slave and instructed him to assemble the family at once.

They came quickly, the adult women and the three oldest boys. She told them Hadji Bey’s message, and they shared her relief regarding Selim Cyra then sent for the chief eunuch, Ali Anber brought her word that the chief eunuch was ill and could not leave his bed. Concern in her voice, she instructed that Ali be looked after with the utmost care. The listening slaves marveled that the bas-kadin could be so kind to one who had spoken so rudely to her.

Ali died peacefully the next day, and Cyra, with the approval of Lady Refet and the other kadins, appointed the eunuch Anber to his place.

Aftershocks continued for the next month and a half, but they were mild and none so severe as the first quake. There was a great deal to do regarding the repair of the estate. Selim sent word that he would remain with his father until things were more settled.

To assuage their loneliness, the prince’s kadins threw themselves into an orgy of work. With the slaves and workmen from nearby villages already busy with the Moonlight Serai and its grounds, Cyra sent small troups of Tartars throughout the province to assess the extent of the damage.

Reports came in daily, and after the four kadins had carefully read them all, the soldiers were sent out again with gifts of dinars and food from Selim’s own storehouses. Slowly the area returned to normal. Homes were repaired, farm animals rounded up or replaced, fields replanted, wounds healed—and, most important of all, bellies were filled. The name of Prince Selim, on the tongue of every man, woman, and child in the region, was blessed six times daily.

In mid-July the four wives of Sultan Bajazct’s younger son could sit back and smile with satisfaction at a job well done. The aftershocks had stopped entirely. Everything was back to normal in their small world, and already the hot summer sun was encouraging the wheat to great height It seemed that after the terrible devastation of early May, nature was on her best behavior.

One afternoon as Cyra sat quietly sewing, the chief eunuch admitted a dust-stained messenger to her presence. Selim was coming home! “He cannot be far behind me, my lady, though the people in the village will scarce let him by with the singing of his praises. I rode as fast as I could.”

“You have done well,” she replied through her veil. “Anber, see that the prince’s messenger is offered refreshment before he goes to his quarters, and inform my aunt and sisters of his message.”

Thus dismissing them, she called to her own slaves to prepare her bath and fresh garments.

Prince Selim, his troup of Tartar cavalry riding smartly behind him, arrived home to be greeted by his four lovely wives, who, forgetting protocol and decorum, ran from the main portico to meet him. Leaping from his horse, he flung open his arms and managed, by a miracle known to Allah alone, to enfold them all.

The soldiers nudged each other and grinned down from their horses in delight Here was a man—a prince to be sultan someday! Four beautiful and devoted wives, for though their faces were veiled to all men save their lord, the slave girls spoke often of the kadins’ beauty.

Selim stood there, travel-stained and weary, his four women laughing and crying their joy at his return. Then his sons, following their mothers’ example and leaving restraint behind, dashed from the palace to meet him. Suleiman, fifteen next month, led the pack. Four-year-old Prince Nureddin, the youngest brought up the rear on chubby, dimpled legs. Nine fine boys. The ten-year-old princesses, Hale and Guzel, six-year-old Nilufer, and even the littlest princess, Mihri-Chan, waited decorously beneath the main portico. As Selim and his party reached them, Nilufer, who had inherited her mother’s delicate features and her incredible green eyes, flung herself on him, smothering him with kisses, and then promptly begged to be put upon her father’s horse.

“She is learning your ways, my love,” laughed the prince. “First a compliment then the request. She is not so subtle as you, but then she is still young.” He bent down and lifted the child up into the saddle. “You may take him to the stables, Nilufer. Can you do it?”

Her eyes shining, the child gathered up the reins. “Yes, father.”

“Selim,” protested Cyra, “she is too little for such a big horse.”

“She is an Ottoman princess, and all Ottomans ride well naturally.” He tapped the horse lightly on the rump, and it trotted off to the stable with Nilufer proudly on its back. The prince turned to his men. “You have done well, my Tartars. Go now and enjoy the pleasures of the bath. This evening there will be feasting and entertainment for you all.” Turning back to his family, he escorted them into the palace. “Tonight I shall dine with my oldest sons and their mothers.” A slave took his dusty cape while another removed his dirty boots.

“Cyra, come with me, I want to speak with you.” He strode off to his quarters. “How is my aunt? Why did she not greet me?”

“She is very well, my lord, but exhausted from her labors these past weeks. She bade me ask you to visit her when you have bathed and changed.”

He nodded, then queried, “What in Allah’s name did you do to the people of this province? There wasn’t a village where I wasn’t stopped and offered a selection of refreshments and nubile virgins.”

They entered his apartments.

She laughed. “I simply distributed food and gold in your name following the earthquake. Did you not notice that the homes are all repaired and the fields filled with growing grain?”

“I did. Except for a few scars on the land itself, you would not know the quake had touched this region.”

“But it did, dearest. The waters from the sea swept all through our estate. Had it not been for the storm that followed, we would have been a salt desert now.”

“I thank Allah you were not in the city, my dove. The waters poured over the city walls. Hundreds were drowned. What wasn’t ruined by the waters burned in the fires that followed. The sultan himself narrowly escaped death. The sea inundated his private apartments at the Yeni Serai. He had left them but an hour before. Three slaves who were cleaning the rooms were drowned.”

“How horrible! We were lucky in losing only one slave.”

The prince continued his story. “We set up tents in the gardens of the Eski Serai, but when it became apparent that the aftershocks would continue, the sultan moved the court and government to Adrianople. Before we left, he opened the granaries to the people of the city, and for the time I was with him in Adrianople, he did nothing but plan the rebuilding and repair of Constantinople. It has started already. Poor father was so worried about my family. However, Hadji Bey assured him you were all safe. Besma was naturally quite disappointed to hear you were all out of danger.”

“That woman!” hissed Cyra, her eyes narrowing. Then, remembering, she spoke again. “My lord, you must forgive me for acting without your authority, but it became necessary to dispose of the chief eunuch, AIL He was Besma’s spy.”

“Ali?”

“Yes, my lord. Once I told you I did not know who Besma’s spies were. I spoke the truth. However, several years ago Hadji Bey felt it best that I know. The others were a white eunuch in your aunt’s quarters, a bath attendant, and one of the slave girls attached to my suite. Ali died an apparently natural death.” Selim raised an eyebrow, but Cyra continued. “I have appointed Hadji Bey’s protégé Anber to the position of chief eunuch.”

The prince nodded his approval. “And the others, my love?”

“The slave girl I rewarded for her service to me by marrying her to a prosperous farmer in the region who has always been of service to us. The bath attendant slipped while alone in the baths, hit her head, and drowned. The white eunuch was caught trying to run away with half of Lady Refet’s jewels in his pockets. It was necessary to execute him as an example to the other slaves that we will not tolerate that sort of thing.”

Selim whistled softly. “I shall be glad when I succeed to the sultanate, my dear wife, to have you on my side, and not against me.”

“I regret having to take these actions, but I feel that the time is approaching when you will assume your fated duties. If we are not safe from Besma in our own household, we are safe nowhere. Bajazet will not live forever, and when he goes to Paradise, our battle begins. You cannot be held back through worrying about us. We are a household of women and children, but with this province loyal, and surrounded by faithful slaves, we can withstand anything.”

Tenderly he drew her to him. He smelled of sweat and horses. “How I pity Rudolfo di San Lorenzo. With you at his side, he might have ruled all Europe.”

“No, my Selim. I should have been merely his duchess. He has neither your vision nor your intelligence, and he would have treated me as a brood mare and chattel. Legally I am your slave, but never have you treated me thus. You have loved me as a woman, and yet respected me for myself. And despite the fact that you are Turkish to the soles of your feet, you have always acknowledged the fact that I have a mind.” This last was said with a twinkle, for though Selim was a strong man and not one to be swayed, he often sought Cyra’s advice.

“Impudent slave,” he chuckled, “it is not your clever mind I admire, but your ripe, round body.” His hand slid beneath her pelisse.

Squirming away in mock dismay, she exclaimed, “My lord! No Turkish gentleman would accost a lady with the filth of the road still on his person. What will the slaves say?”

“Damn the slaves,” he muttered, tumbling her among the cushions. As if on cue, a slave entered, announcing, “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

“Damn
the bath!” roared Selim, glowering down at his favorite, who was biting her lip to hold back her laughter. “If you laugh, I’ll strangle you.”

“Yes, my lord,” she gasped, choking back her giggles.

His own laugh then rumbled across the room, and her silvery one joined it The slave stood open-mouthed, afraid to move.

Selim wiped the tears from his eyes. “Tonight?”

She smiled and, rising from the pillows, walked from the room.

25

T
HEY DID NOT KNOW IT THEN
, but the next year was to be the last one they would spend together in peace and contentment. It was a happy year, for Selim was home more than he had been since those early days.

Occasionally he would ride into Constantinople, taking the three oldest boys with him. They came back full of tales of how the city was being rebuilt and how the people had cheered them and their father.

More often the prince would take his sons hunting. Even the youngest, Nureddin, was included, riding his shaggy pony, his fat little legs hugging the animal’s equally fat sides.

Selim spent long, lazy afternoons sailing on the bay with his daughters. He came to know them as he never had. Hale, for instance, was like her mother not only in appearance but in temperament as well Guzel, the other twin, was thoughtful and more sensitive. His youngest daughter he found mischievous and stubborn but completely winning when she chose to be. Mihri-Chan was spoiled, he knew, but then Sarina had only two children.

It was Nilufer, however, who was his favorite. She did not look like him, and though she had Cyra’s delicate features, she was not merely her mother’s replica. Nilufer was decidedly herself. She was bright, charming, and independent, yet extremely feminine. She was a natural leader, and even her older sisters deferred to her.

Selim spent the evenings in the company of his aunt and his kadins, enjoying quiet entertainments and talks. Sometimes there would be visitors from the capital or from outlying provinces. Then Selim would closet himself with them, sometimes for several days.

If there was anything to mar the perfection of their lives, it was the fact that Selim, who had always been healthy and strong, began to suffer from a stomach disorder. In the beginning it appeared to be no more than indigestion. Cyra ordered a bland diet for the prince, and his symptoms disappeared, only to return a few weeks later. Worried, the bas-kadin sent a message to Hadji Bey.

Several days later, Alaeddin Cerdet, the sultan’s personal physician, arrived, Selim protested but was firmly and completely examined by the doctor.

“Ulcers,” Alaeddin said without any preamble.

“Nonsense,” snapped Selim. “That’s a disease of weak men. I’ve never been sick a day in my life.”

“Nevertheless, Highness, you have ulcers, and as I have known you since birth, I am not surprised. Ulcers are not a disease of weak men but are caused by tension. Look at the atmosphere in which you were brought up. A weak man would have begun these attacks fifteen years earlier. Now we must keep them under control. I shall prescribe a liquid diet and bed rest”

“Liquid diet? Bed rest?” roared Selim. “Am I an old man to be tucked into my bed with warm bricks at my feet and a shawl about my shoulders, and fed broth? I am
the Ottoman.”

Alaeddin Cerdet put his face close to the prince’s and spoke softly. “You are
the son of the Ottoman,
Highness, but unless you do as I say, you will never five to reign,”

Selim looked startled

“Come, my lord” continued the doctor, “do you think Hadji Bey would send you any ordinary doctor? Trust me—and follow my advice. The liquid diet and bed rest are just temporary measures to get your ulcers under control. It will not be for long.”

So Selim rested and, grudgingly, drank his broth. The pain subsided. Eventually his diet was expanded but kept simple, and as long as he followed Alaeddin Cerdet’s advice, he was free from pain. Unfortunately he could not always do so because of the frequent visitors to the Moonlight Serai. Hospitality demanded spicy pilafs, lamb kebabs, honey-nut cakes, and hot sweet Turkish coffee. Selim could hardly eat a separate diet in front of guests. If it were known he was ill, confidence in him might dwindle. So he ate the rich diet he served his guests, and suffered terrible attacks of pain afterward Only the opium pills prescribed by Alaeddin Cerdet for these occasions helped. Unfortunately, as more visitors came to the Moonlight Serai, Selim suffered more attacks, and a change began to come about in the prince’s personality. He began to be more stern and less patient

Summer ran into autumn, and despite the earthquake of May, the harvest was good and the storehouses were filled to overflowing. The rains came, continued for a few weeks, then stopped. The days that followed were gloriously sunny and warm Then, suddenly, winter was upon them.

It swept down from the mountains in a vicious temper of snow, wind, and bitter cold. It was the worst winter the peasants could remember. The cattle had to be brought in from the fields lest they freeze, and both day and night the peasants huddled in their homes feeding their ravenous hearths from a fast-dwindling supply of wood.

Then, just when it seemed it would be winter forever, spring arrived. Overnight the tulips, hyacinths, and jonquils were in bloom, and the almond blossoms, like pale pink clouds, perfumed the air.

Selim’s family had been penned in the palace for many months and welcomed the opportunity to get outdoors. The women sat in the gardens enjoying the beautiful flowers, while the boys took to their horses, and the girls to games upon the fresh spring grass.

Selim decided to take the opportunity of riding into Constantinople before the spring rains set in, and one bright morning he left with his Tartars. The young princes stood disappointedly watching their father depart They had wanted to accompany him and felt insulted at being left behind.

Evading their tutors, two of Cyra’s sons, thirteen-year-old Kasim and eleven-year-old Murad, along with Zuleika’s twelve-year-old, Abdullah, rode off into the hills to hunt The day was balmy, and a salt-scented breeze blew in from the sea. They saw much game but contented themselves with the taking of a few rabbits. They rode, swam in a small, icy mountain pond, and lay back in the new grass, describing the shapes of the clouds to one another.

When they finally noticed the sun beginning to sink lower and a chill entering the air, they mounted their horses and turned toward home, racing each other across the mountain meadows. Suddenly Abdullah pulled his mount up short. Below, they could see their home set above the edge of the sea, and the lonely road that led to it Abdullah had spotted a large group of horsemen attempting to hide themselves among the trees beside the road. Kasim signaled silently that they would move closer in an attempt to identify the intruders.

Tying their horses, they slipped stealthily through the woods to within a few feet of the soldiers. There were at least a hundred of them mingling in a small clearing. They were garbed in black, with no identifying badges of service.

“How much longer must we wait here, captain?” asked one of the men impatiently.

“Until two hours after sunset” replied a large, evil-looking brute. “The moon won’t rise until after midnight, and by then the Moonlight Serai will be a smoldering ruin.”

“And its inhabitants?” asked the first man.

“The men can have the women, but kill them when they’re through. As for Prince Selim’s children and the slaves, kill them at once. Those are Besma Kadin’s orders. It must appear that Tartars have done this deed.”

The three young princes stared at one another in horror, then, regaining their senses, slipped back through the woods and quickly clambered up the hill to their horses.

“Abdullah, take Murad and warn the family. Go by way of the beach and, in Allah’s name,
hurry!
The sun is near to setting.” He mounted his own horse.

“But,
Kasim,” quavered Abdullah, “where are you going?”

“To Constantinople. To tell father. If I ride all night, I can reach him by tomorrow morning. Go now!” Wheeling his horse, he galloped off.

Abdullah and Murad quickly scrambled onto their mounts and forcing them down a narrow cliffside path, gained the beach. The dying sun glowed red across the waters as the two boys pushed their animals to the limits of their endurance. They soon reached the Moonlight Serai. The horses stumbled up the path and raced across the gardens.

Cyra had been sitting in the dawn kiosk, enjoying the beautiful peace of early evening. Seeing the horses racing up the cliff path, she ran through her miniature glen to the palace, reaching it just as the boys did. “What on earth has possessed you two!” she shouted at the culprits. “First you run off from your tutors, and then you tear up the gardens with your horses. Allah help you both when your Aunt Sarina sees her tulip beds.”

“Captain Riza,” gasped Abdullah, sliding off his horse. “Get Captain Riza, Aunt Cyra! Hurry!”

Cyra saw the urgency and fear in the youngster’s face and immediately dispatched a slave. Within minutes, the captain of Selim’s palace guard appeared. Abdullah quickly told him what they had seen and heard. Cyra blanched, but the captain’s face darkened with rage and he exploded in a rash of oaths. “That mangy bitch,” he roared. “She’s waited years to attempt this piece of treachery!”

“Can we hold them off?” asked Cyra.

“Not a chance, my lady kadin. I have only twenty-five men here. I allowed twenty-five to go home for the spring planting, and the prince took the other hundred with him to the capital. You’ll have to flee, and Allah protect the slaves!”

“No! I will not leave those who have been loyal to us to suffer certain death. They must be protected.”

“Madam,” replied Captain Riza, shrugging helplessly, “the situation is hopeless. You must think of the children.”

“Mother,” piped little Murad, “why can’t we all hide in the Jinn’s Cave. Father fitted it for an emergency.”

“Of course!” cried Cyra. “It is the perfect answer! I have allowed fear to paralyze my wits. Besma’s assassins will never find us there!”

Captain Riza looked puzzled. “The Jinn’s Cave?”

“Yes, good captain. A large group of caves beneath the cliffs on the beach. Selim thinks it was used by pirates many years ago. It is hidden by brush, and its entrance is blocked by a bidden door. Once inside, that door can be set so that even if an intruder unknowingly touches the control, it cannot be opened from the outside. There is a freshwater spring within, and a high place that can be used as a lookout which commands a view of both land and sea. We will be safe there until our lord returns.”

“By the Prophet’s horse, this is a piece of luck.” Captain Riza turned to a slave. “Get the chief eunuch!” Then, to Cyra, “We will wait until dark. Then the entire household will go under cover of darkness into the caves. I will send two observers out to warn us when Besma’s murderers begin their move. With luck we can be hidden away long before they come.”

The sun hovered for a last moment above the sea, then plummeted over the horizon.

“Go, my lady kadin,” said Captain Riza. “Our time is short”

The darkness came quickly, and in the Moonlight Serai the slaves moved swiftly and calmly. Anber had explained the gravity of their situation, and although they were frightened they knew the family of Selim Khan—their family—would protect them.

In the kitchens the assigned slaves gathered all the food and supplies they would need Meanwhile, the house slaves hid what valuables they could, and in the children’s quarters, the nurses packed clothing for their young charges.

Finally, an hour after sunset a silent exodus began from the Moonlight Serai. Everyone carried a change of clothes, for Cyra feared that the assassins, finding their prey gone, would loot everything in sight The young princes and princesses carried or led their household pets. Cyra thought this responsibility would lessen their fears. The kadins and Lady Refet carried their jewels.

The Jinn’s Cave was actually several caves—a large main room, with two smaller rooms, one directly behind the other, opposite the entrance. A third, smaller cave stood to the left of the entrance.

The stone door was a miracle of balance. When shut it fit so closely in its opening that no one could find it Pressure in one corner would open the great door unless a large iron bar were jammed into a sunken stone cylinder inside the entrance.

Aside from its size, the cave had two other advantages. It had a source of fresh spring water which sprang from a rock and dripped into a time-smoothed basin. Its second advantage was a flight of natural stone steps that rose to an observation post where one could view both the sea and the surrounding countryside without being observed.

All this was as the young princes had found it Selim had oiled the mechanism that controlled the door, and installed metal torch holders in all the rooms. The boys had often heard their father say the cave would be an excellent hiding place, as no one could possibly find it Selim had also added that the cave’s original owners were most likely pirates of an earlier time who had used it to hide themselves and their booty from the authorities.

The princes had discovered it when Suleiman had thrown Omar’s ball too hard, and it had rolled through the bushes and bounced into the entrance of the cave. They had, to their disappointment, found no treasure, but the cave had given them many golden hours, and tonight it would give them the greatest treasure of all—their Uves.

Reaching it, they discovered that the farm slaves had transported the half dozen milk cows and all the goats and poultry from the farmyards into the farthest cave. Captain Riza’s men had brought the few remaining horses and hunting dogs. Fortunately, Prince Selim’s herds of cattle and sheep had already been taken to their mountain pastures for the summer.

The smaller side cave was assigned to the family and their attendants. Quilted cotton pallets were unrolled and the younger children put to bed, to be watched over faithfully by their nurses. The remainder of the women slaves were placed in the nearest of the back rooms, and, rank forgotten, they huddled together for comfort, while the male slaves and the eunuchs occupied the main cave.

The two soldiers assigned by Captain Riza to watch the intruders returned, followed by a third man who, using a wide rush broom, swept away all signs of foot and animal tracks. A final head count was taken, and then the great stone door was sealed shut from the inside. From the lookout post three pairs of eyes scanned the blackness.