The Kadin (32 page)

Suleiman hugged her warmly. “I know, little sister,” he said reassuringly. “You will have your own way, but tell me, for I die of curiosity, why did you set your heart on Ferhad Pasha? You don’t know him.”

“I saw him once,” answered the princess, “but,” she quickly added, “he did not see me. He was walking in our father’s garden. They stopped to talk, and I was hidden nearby in the rosebushes. He is very handsome—and brave, too. I thought it was wonderful how he sent you the rebel Ghazali’s head from Syria when you first became sultan.”

“Yes,” said her brother dryly, “a most courteous gift.”

So, the plans were set in motion for the wedding of the sultan’s fourth sister.

This was the first chance Suleiman had had since becoming sultan to show his hospitality, and the wedding was magnificent Throughout the entire empire, lawbreakers were pardoned. In all the major cities, government-sponsored feasts were held, and each girl of fifteen who chose to marry on the same day as Mihri-Chan was given a dowry of ten gold pieces, a bolt of fine cloth, and a small pearl necklace. To the wedding feast came officials, both high and low, of the Ottoman government—and, for the first time in Turkish history, distinguished Western European foreigners who resided in the city. Suleiman realized the advantages of having his wealth reported to Charles V, Francis I, and Henry VII by their nationals.

The wedding day was beautiful. The bride was radiant in her soft garments of willow-green silk, with a fortune in diamonds and pearls on her pelisse. The bridegroom, a tall, handsome man with an elegant clipped moustache, seemed happy and pleased—and well he might Not only had he had the luck to marry his sultan’s favorite sister, but Suleiman’s gift to him had been the position of third vizier, and he had been assigned the pashalik of Syria. After the five-day celebration, the bridal couple would sail east under the protection of Khair ad-Din’s fleet.

The ship that would carry them from Constantinople had been especially outfitted for the trip. Decorated with gold and silver leaf, its decks were enameled in bright colors. Great purple sails billowed from its silver masts, the tops of which flew green pennants. In the holds beneath the deck only a small area had been set aside for the hapless crew. The rest of the space bulged with wedding presents and Minn-Chan’s household goods. Only a minimum of slaves would travel with the third vizier and his bride. A separate ship would carry the bulk of their household servants.

Toward the stem of the ship, a spacious cabin had been constructed for the bridal pair. Of finest cedar, it was trimmed with gold and hung with silken curtains of crimson and sea-green. Jeweled lamps bobbed on solid silver chains hanging from the beams.

The sultan and the imperial family bade Mihri-Chan and Ferhad Pasha a private farewell in the Yeni Serai. The young princess was obviously blissfully happy, but Sarina Kadin was hard put to keep a cheerful face. Happy as she was for her daughter, she was saddened to have her only child going so far from Constantinople.

Then the yellow barge was ready, and, after a flurry of swift good-byes, they were gone—bobbing across the sparkling, deep-blue waters of the Bosporus to the waiting ship.

37

N
OW CAME A SHORT PERIOD
of relative stability and peace for Turkey. The Janissaries, sated for the time being with Belgrade and Rhodes, were silent Piri Pasha was honorably retired, and Ibrahim Pasha was named grand vizier, to the delight of both the valideh and her daughter, Nilufer. The graybeards, of course, grumbled at the sultan’s choice, and thought the Greek too young—but the sultan would be obeyed.

Suleiman now had time to spend with Gulbehar and their son. Of late, Cyra had noticed his eyes were more for little Mustafa than for his kadin. With delight she realized that the time had come when her son might be tempted by a female other than the soft and foolish Gulbehar. Khurrem began to be seen more in the valideh’s company.

Then one day, while visiting his mother, Suleiman laughed so hard at an amusing song sung by the petite Russian that tears rolled down his cheeks. At a barely perceptible sign from the valideh, the girl handed her lord an embroidered silk handerchief so that he might wipe his eyes. Afterward, he noticed the lovely design on the cloth, and Cyra said, “Khurrem made it She is wondrously clever with her needle.”

“You will make all my handkerchiefs from now on, Khurrem,” said Suleiman graciously.

Cyra was delighted. Her protégé had been noticed. A small compliment true—but recognition, nevertheless. In the next few weeks Khurrem could be seen among the maidens who sometimes accompanied the sultan on his walks through the palace grounds. The valideh warned the girl, “Be modest at all times. Your beauty cannot fail to speak for you. I know my son. Already he is intrigued by you. If you are clever, he will want to know more.”

Then came an evening when Suleiman, feeling moody, asked that Khurrem be sent to sing her merry songs to him. She remained in the sultan’s quarters for almost three hours, and those who attended the sultan whispered it was more than the girl’s singing that attracted him. There was now no doubt—Khurrem was “in the eye” of the sultan.

She was immediately elevated to the rank of guzdeh and given a small apartment of her own, consisting of a small anteroom and a bedchamber. A personal slave was assigned to care for her needs.

Cyra was jubilant, but Marian warned, “Beware, my dearest lady. That little cat has long, sharp claws.”

Cyra paid little heed to her old slave’s words, but instead began to plan for the night when Khurrem would be called to her lord’s couch. It could not be for at least several weeks, she knew. It would be bad manners for the sultan to appear overeager, and then, too, the court astrologer had to be consulted.

Remembering her own happy bridal night, the valideh decided that Suleiman’s and Khurrem’s would be as happy as hers and Selim’s had been. Determined that Khurrem should be the first to replace Gulbehar in her son’s affections, she spared no effort

Each day the Russian guzdeh was bathed in rosewater and massaged with precious oils distilled from wild flowers. Her hands and feet were creamed until they were soft and whiter than white. There was not a square centimeter of Khurrem’s skin that did not make silk seem rough in comparison.

Her diet was carefully supervised by the valideh herself. The new guzdeh must walk in Cyra Hafise’s private park two hours each day to keep her young muscles firm and supple.

The weeks went by, and then one afternoon Khurrem burst into the valideh’s apartment waving a yellow silk handkerchief and crying, “It has come, madam! The summons has come! I am called to my lord’s couch Friday—tomorrow night!”

It was a bad moment Gulbehar had chosen that same afternoon to visit with her mother-in-law. The young bas-kadin was furious and hysterical by turns.

“I hate her! I hope she dies in childbirth!”

“But why? You do not even know her,” replied the valideh.

“I do not trust her.”

“Nonsense!” snapped Cyra. “You are jealous. It is that simple, and I will not stand for it! On Friday after noonday prayers, you will, as your position demands, escort Khurrem to the bridal bath,”

Gulbehar raised her tear-stained face to Cyra. “You have been behind the Russian girl from the start. Do not deny it, for I know it is true. There will come a time when you will regret this intrigue. Khurrem is ambitious, and one day her ambition will reach out to destroy even you.”

Cyra was distressed. Despite the fact she considered Gulbehar a silly creature, she was fond of her and did not wish to see her upset. The following day, however, Cyra’s sympathy turned to annoyance when Gulbehar refused to leave her apartments, claiming illness.

Never had the valideh felt more angry. She had been openly and publicly defied by her son’s wife. As ruler of the harem, she could not allow it Her orders were swift Guards were posted about Gulbehar Kadin’s apartments until further notice. No one inside would be permitted to come or go, and, harshest of all, Prince Mustafa was removed from his mother’s care and placed in the custody of his grandmother.

Noon prayers over, the valideh’s servants hurried to dress their mistress in her most elegant clothes.

Cyra had chosen a magnificent velvet tunic dress the color of ripe apricots, its broad front panel embroidered in gold thread and topazes. Over this she wore a cloth-of-gold cloak fastened with an enormous emerald clasp. Her hair, fashioned as a coronet, was topped by an ornate gold crown studded with topazes, diamonds, and emeralds. From it flowed a golden gauze veil. Since Gulbehar would not escort Khurrem to the baths, Cyra would honor the new guzdeh by doing so.

The ceremonial route would take them past the bas-kadin’s windows, and the valideh had given orders that Gulbehar was to be made to stand and watch the festive procession. Having developed the habit of seeing out of the corners of her eyes while appearing to face straight ahead, she briefly viewed with annoyance her daughter-in-law’s puffy, tear-swollen face as they glided by.

That evening, Cyra rehearsed Khurrem a final time in the procedure for entering Suleiman’s bed. Khurrem laughed. “It’s so silly,” she said. “Are you going to tell me you entered Sultan Selim’s bed that way?”

The valideh secretly agreed with her pupil but replied tartly, “It is custom and a mark of respect If my son has one weakness, it is his strict observance of tradition. When you have entered the sultan’s bedchamber, make your obeisance. Show me.”

Khurrem flung herself gracefully to the floor, her golden head touching the rug.

“Excellent! Next the eunuch who accompanies you will remove your garments and depart When this has been done, go to the foot of the imperial couch. Take the coverlet in your hand—so—and place the corner of it first to your forehead, secondly to your lips. Only then may you enter the bed. Do so by crawling up from the foot until you are level with the sultan.”

“I shall do this only once,” said Khurrem. “In the future when I visit the sultan, I will not humble myself in such a debasing way.”

“
If
you go again, my dear. Unless you follow protocol and your manners are flawless, you will repel my son. You must fascinate him completely, or there will be no second time. Remember that when you are tempted to let your pride overrule your common sense. If you displease Suleiman, you will receive no help from me, and certainly Gulbehar will enjoy adding to your humiliation. Is this not the moment you dreamed of back in your barbarian village? Will you allow pride to destroy it? If you do, then I have greatly misjudged you, my daughter.”

Khurrem’s smoky-violet eyes filled with tears of distress, Cyra knew she had made her point The valideh cupped the girl’s heart-shaped face in her hands. “Do not weep, child. Conduct yourself as I have taught you, and you cannot fail to win my son.” She gently dabbed at the girl’s eyes with her own handkerchief. “Now return to your chamber. In two hours I shall come to escort you to your lord. I shall send Marian and Ruth to help you dress.”

Khurrem fell on her knees and, catching the valideh’s hand, kissed it fervently. “Go,” said Cyra, pulling her hand away. Allah in His Paradise, the girl made her feel old! Power was a marvelous toy, and she thoroughly enjoyed it, but at times like these a longing for the hills of her native land reared its head in a way she had never felt before.

At a few minutes to ten o’clock that evening, Cyra Hafise was leaving her apartments when there came a terrible wailing sound. The startled valideh sent a eunuch to discover the source of the appalling noise. He returned to say that Gulbehar, garbed in black, had locked herself in her bedchamber and was now weeping.

Cyra frowned angrily. “She should be beaten, but I suppose that would only worsen things.” She turned to the eunuch. “Break the door to Gulbehar’s bedchamber open, and bind and gag her.”

The eunuch nodded and hurried to carry out the valideh’s orders. He had been in the harem a long time and knew the customs surrounding the sultan’s romantic liaisons. Every door and window in the harem must be shut. Only the way from the favorite lady’s chamber to the sultan’s apartment was left open. Above all, there must be silence. Nothing must distract Suleiman and his chosen one from their pleasure.

Shortly afterward, Cyra entered Khurrem’s chamber and, drawing from her pocket a necklace of golden flowers studded with tiny pink diamond chips, fastened it about the surprised girl’s neck.

“Madam,” whispered Khurrem, “it is beautiful.”

“Its owner far outshines it” replied the valideh.

She stood while her charge was placed in the golden litter, and, escorting it to the doors of her son’s quarters, said to the Russian, “May you know only joy, my daughter.” The Utter entered, and the doors to the sultan’s suite closed.

Returning to her own quarters, Cyra stopped at Gulbehar’s apartments. The kadin’s attendants, huddled around the tiled corner stove, turned frightened faces to the sultan’s mother. The valideh entered the bedroom and stood for a minute, staring down at the younger woman.

“Cut her bonds,” she commanded the kadin’s eunuch, “and remove the gag.”

Gulbehar sat up and began to rub her wrists.

“Khurrem is now with her lord and master,” began the valideh.

Gulbehar shrieked wildly.

Cyra raised her hand and slapped the girl. “Be silent!” She turned to the eunuch. “Leave us. I will speak with Gulbehar Kadin alone.” She turned to the girl, “Control yourself! Khurrem is now a fact Face it!”

Gulbehar’s voice was low. “I am lost.”

Cyra was becoming more annoyed as the minutes slipped by. “You are still the sultan’s bas-kadin and mother of his heir,” she snapped. ‘This day you have behaved disgracefully, and you have failed in your duties. Khurrem is but the first of my son’s harem to grace his couch. There will be others, but no matter the number, it is your son who will follow my son—may Allah grant that be many years hence.”

“Ah, my mother,” replied Gulbehar sadly, “do you think I would have objected to my lord’s taking another woman to his couch if he had made the choice himself?”

“But he did make the choice. From his entire harem he singled out Khurrem,”

“No. You chose her. You placed her strategically, and trained her, and favored her. How little you know this man who is your son. For eleven years I have held him, and I knew be was bored with me, though his fondness for me would never diminish. Soon he would have chosen another maiden to share his bed, and I would have rejoiced that he found joy. But you have given him a viper. Khurrem is ambitious and cruel. She will never be satisfied with being merely the second kadin.”

“How can you say that Khurrem is cruel? Ambitious, I know, but certainly not cruel.”

“Your spies have obviously not told you of what your protégée did to the keeper of the linens. When Khurrem became a guzdeh, she had her eunuch force Cervi to kneel before her, and then she placed her foot upon the woman’s neck. This was not cruel?”

Cyra had not known of this incident but pretended she did. “A childish prank,” she said.

“Khurrem will try to destroy us all,” repeated Gulbehar.

“Bah! I am mistress here, and I promise you that she will not harm you or your little Mustafa.”

The morning following the Russian’s first visit to her lord, Cyra joined her pupil for coffee, and was thus there when the sultan’s gifts arrived. Wrapped in a handkerchief of gold-embroidered cloth with diamonds and rubies, they were outrageously extravagant. By tradition, Suleiman should have included among his gifts one bag of gold coins. He sent two. There was a sapphire the size of an apricot that hung from a thin gold chain, a necklace and earrings of deep-purple amethysts, a book of Persian love poems, a nightingale in a silver cage, and a small guitar covered in gold leaf and studded with pearls and turquoises.

Several weeks later, Khurrem announced to Cyra that she was with child. Remembering her conversation with Gulbehar, the sultan’s mother quietly increased her grandson’s bodyguards and added a food taster to his suite.

As for Suleiman, he was ecstatic over the prospect of becoming a father once again. Gulbehar’s barrenness had given rise to doubts he dared not voice even to himself. He had quickly fallen under Khurrem’s spell, and was so besotted with her that he forgot all else. During the months that followed, Suleiman would not take another maiden despite Khurrem’s condition. Nor did he visit Gulbehar at night, though he often visited her suite during the day.

Cyra was furious. “By introducing Khurrem into Suleiman’s bed, I was trying to keep him from being influenced by one woman, but he has only exchanged a soft, sweet fool for an ambitious beauty. Allah! what am I to do?”

“This is what comes of your meddling,” scolded Marian, “but you need not fear. As long as you live, Suleiman will heed you above all others.”

“That is small comfort, my friend. I would have him be a man as his father was. If he is influenced by his women, how long before he gives me only a mother’s respect but heeds not my words? I cannot let that happen!”

As Khurrem became swollen with her pregnancy and less attractive to the fastidious eye of the sultan, she begged Suleiman’s permission to withdraw to the lake kiosk. With Khurrem less available, the valideh firmly reasserted her influence with her son.