The Panther and The Pearl (5 page)

“Where did you get these things?” Sarah asked, watching her.

“I ordered them from my tirewoman. And you will wear my sapphire and pearl earrings, with my diamond necklace and the girdle of opals and pearls.”

“Roxalena, I couldn’t possibly...” Sarah began.

Roxalena held up her hand. “You would embarrass me in front of my father’s pasha?” she inquired archly.

“Of course not, but all of this is unnecessary.”

“You must be suitably dressed or Kalid Shah will think the house of Sultan Hammid has fallen on hard times and he might perhaps be inspired to rebel.”

“I see,” Sarah said, smiling. “I could cause a revolution if I don’t wear those clothes.”

“Who knows?” Roxalena replied, grinning impishly. Her smile vanished abruptly as she placed the shoes at her side on the divan and a folded piece of paper fell out of one of them. She snatched it up and held it to her bosom protectively.

“What’s that?” Sarah asked.

“It’s for me,” Roxalena said hastily, looking out into the hall to make sure she was not observed.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“It’s best you know nothing of this,” Roxalena said soberly. “Such information could be dangerous.”

“It’s from Osman Bey, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, and the expression on Roxalena’s face told her she was right.

“How could you know?” Roxalena whispered, growing pale.

“I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Sarah replied. “You’re meeting him in secret, aren’t you?”

Roxalena hesitated, then nodded.

“I thought he seemed particularly attentive to you at the bathing outing the other day. But why conceal your relationship? He’s the captain of your father’s halberdiers, that’s an important position. Aren’t you allowed to talk to him?”

“He’s a commoner,” Roxalena said sadly. “I must marry one of the nobility, a liaison with such a one as Osman is forbidden. If it were discovered Osman would be put to death.”

“And he’s willing to take such a risk?” Sarah gasped.

“We both are,” Roxalena replied, meeting her gaze. “You must say nothing of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, but...”

Roxalena motioned for silence as they heard running footsteps coming closer and the women calling to one another excitedly.

“What is it?” asked Sarah, who could not understand their garbled cries.
 

“Kalid Shah is arriving. His caravan is on the road leading up to the main gate. We can see it from over there.”

They both hurried to the window she indicated and knelt on the silk cushioned seat before it. The view from the second story harem quarters looked out over the red tiled roofs of the other wings. In the distance, raising a cloud a dust, they could see a procession of horses and wagons making stately progress toward the palace.

“Which one is he?” Sarah asked, craning her neck.

“Kalid?”

“Yes.”

Roxalena peered over her shoulder. “At the head of the column, on the white horse draped with gold hangings. The two men riding just behind him are supposed to be his guards.”

“Supposed to be?”

“He won’t let them do their job, he thinks he can take care of himself. He only consents to have them with him to humor the valide pashana, his grandmother. The old lady is superstitious and since she’s the only family he has left...” Roxalena shrugged.

“He’s arrogant, then.”

Roxalena snorted.

Sarah chuckled.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Arrogance is a trait that seems in abundant supply around here,” Sarah commented.

Roxalena took a second to register what had been said, then grinned delightedly.

“I suppose you have no arrogant men in the U.S. of America?” she teased.

“Quite a few,” Sarah admitted. She stared down at the robed figure riding at the head of the moving column.

“He seems taller than everybody else,” she said thoughtfully.

“He is. When he visits my father the Sultan always invites Kalid to sit very quickly so that Kalid does not tower over him.” Roxalena covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

Shirza, Roxalena’s personal servant and hairdresser, appeared in the doorway and bowed gracefully.

“Will your Majesty be requiring my services soon?” she asked.

“Yes, yes. It is time for us to dress, my father will ask the women to attend upon him after he has dined and conversed with Kalid in private. Go and fetch what you need, and send Alev for my jewel box.”
 

Roxalena turned to Sarah and smiled.

“We must all be beautiful for my father’s guest,” she said.

Sarah surveyed herself in Roxalena’s standing pier glass and did not recognize the woman she saw. The material of the silk blouse she wore was so thin that her arms were visible through the sleeves, and its scoop neck revealed the tops of her breasts and the diamond pendant which hung about her neck. The full linen trousers, known as
shalwar
, nipped in at the waist and ankle and were fastened at the hips with Roxalena’s jeweled girdle. The misty blue veil covered but did not conceal her hair, and its accompanying drape hid her face except for her eyes, which glowed in complement to the fine materials and luxurious ornaments.

“
Seker
, yes?” Roxalena said from behind her, pleased.

The word meant sugar, and by reference sweet, or desirable.

“Roxalena, this ensemble is scandalous,” Sarah said softly.

“What means this, scandalous?” Roxalena asked.

Sarah sighed. How could she communicate the mores of Victorian society to this woman whose whole life had been a preparation for seduction, a training ground in the art of pleasing men? Roxalena would find her objections ridiculous, and Sarah had promised to abide by Ottoman customs if she came to Topkapi.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling slightly. “Thank you, I am grateful for your efforts and I’m happy that you’re pleased with the result.”

Roxalena beamed. “Now you must remember to keep your veil in place unless you are asked to remove it by my father. And you must not speak unless you are spoken to by one of the men, and keep your eyes downcast during the performance.”

“What performance?”

“The
chengis
, a group of women skilled in dance, have prepared a traditional entertainment for Kalid’s pleasure.”

“I don’t know, Roxalena, I’m sure I’m going to do something wrong,” Sarah said nervously.

“If you make a mistake I will shake my head, so, and you will stop, yes? Most likely you will not be required to do anything except watch the performance and then leave with the other women.”

“All right.”
 

Two eunuchs came to the door and folded their arms in a waiting stance.

“It is time,” Roxalena said.

Sarah took her place beside the princess and they walked out into the hall.

The marble floored
Hunkar Sofasi
(Hall of the Sultan) was almost empty as the harem women entered it. At one end was a raised platform under an ornamental canopy, or
baldachin
, with an elaborate throne for the Sultan and smaller gilt chairs for his kadins and guests. Before the throne was a silk carpet embroidered by tirewomen, with comfortable tasseled cushions arranged for the favorite concubines, and above it was a balcony where the
sazende,
musicians, were tuning their stringed instruments. Tapestries suspended from the ceiling wafted back and forth, acting like fans to stir the warm air.
 

Sarah had barely filed into the huge, columned room before cymbals clashed and the musicians began to play a slow, stately march. From the double doors at the rear, guarded by Osman Bey and his halberdiers, the Sultan advanced into the room, followed by his honored guest, his retainers, and his women. Sarah watched as Roxalena moved to take her place in the procession next to the first and second kadins, and then Sarah’s gaze fell on Kalid Shah. Thereafter she saw only him; it was as if everyone else in the vast chamber had disappeared.

He was dressed in a scarlet robe edged with gold, the hanging sleeves slashed to display tight fitting white silk armlets beneath them. The dagger at his waist was studded with diamonds and a white aigrette in his turban held a cluster of rubies, diamonds and pearls. He turned slightly, as if he sensed Sarah’s eyes on him, and she felt a shock as his imperious gaze met hers.

He had the darkest eyes she had ever seen, heavily marked by black brows and thick lashes, and tendrils of glossy black hair escaped his headdress at the sides to curl about his ears. His short sable beard framed red lips that parted as he looked at her, and for the long moments that they gazed at one another time seemed to stand still. Then the Sultan clapped his hands, Kalid looked back toward the dais, and the spell was broken.
 

Sarah looked around almost wildly, as if afraid that her thoughts were visible, disconcerted to find that her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She deliberately unclenched her fists as the Sultan took his seat and the others settled around him, the novice concubines leaning against the wall, as they were not permitted to sit in the presence of the Sultan. The kadins and Roxalena sat on his left, Kalid Shah on his right. Just before the Sultan clapped his hands again and the dancers scampered into the room, Sarah was sure that Kalid’s dark gaze swept the crowd and settled on her once more.

What transpired next was a blur. The musicians began to play a czardas, a fast, upbeat number that soon had the dancers whirling. They wore low necked muslin blouses, embroidered vests, and capacious skirts that opened like fans as they spun. There were twelve of them: the leader, ten dancers, and an apprentice. As one tune concluded it led into another, and a fine sheen of sweat soon appeared on their bodies as they leaped and capered to the music. When the Sultan became bored he signaled to the musicians, and the music changed to a slow, seductive number. The dancers filed to the side of the floor as the leader doffed her skirt and blouse and segued into a belly dance.

Sarah was hardly aware of the spectacle taking place; her eyes were fixed on Kalid Shah, who was watching the performance expressionlessly. When the dancers left they were succeeded by a band of gymnasts, and then by a magician, and it seemed an eternity before the women were dismissed and the men were left to their pipes. Sarah got a last glimpse of Kalid Shah as she filed out of the hall behind the eunuchs on her way back to the harem. He was leaning forward, saying something to the first kadin, who nodded and smiled.

Sarah had hardly returned to her apartment when Shirza bustled in after her, quite out of breath. She bowed hastily and then said, “My lady requests that you attend upon her immediately, Miss Sarah,” she said slowly in elementary Turkish, with explicatory gestures, so that Sarah could understand.

“Where is the princess?” Sarah asked, surprised.

“In the Sultan’s private audience chamber,” Shirza replied quietly, obviously impressed.

“But why does she want me to come there?” Sarah asked.

“I know not, miss. Your escort is waiting.”

Sarah stepped into the hall and two eunuchs fell into step beside her. They led her to a small, expensively furnished room off the great hall, and she stopped short on the threshold when she saw who was waiting for her there: The Sultan, Roxalena, and Kalid Shah.

“Come in, Sarah,” Roxalena said carefully, indicating with her eyes that Sarah was to proceed cautiously. Roxalena approached the Sultan, who was reclining on a divan, smoking, and made a low obeisance before him. When she looked up he nodded and smiled, saying something she could not follow.

“My father, Sultan Abdul Hammid IV, Lord of the Golden Crescent, Lion of the Desert, sends you greetings, Sarah Woolcott,” Roxalena translated into English, “and would present you to his Pasha of the District of Bursa, Kalid Shah.”

Her pulse racing, Sarah turned her gaze on the pasha. He regarded her intently, reclining on one elbow, his deep red robe open now to reveal a supple brown throat and an undershift of white silk. At close range he was even more impressive, his coloring more vivid, his presence impossible to ignore. Sarah bowed gracefully in his direction. He inclined his head.

The Sultan spoke again.

“My father instructs you to drop your veil,” Roxalena said.

Sarah looked at her sharply.

“It is the Sultan’s wish,” Roxalena added meaningfully.

Sarah swallowed hard, then loosened the clips which held the yashmak, the face piece, to her veil. It came away in her hand, revealing her features.

“And the rest,” Roxalena said, interpreting her father’s impatient gesture. Kalid Shah said nothing, merely watched as Sarah swept the veil from her head, uncovering her bound hair.

The Sultan murmured approvingly, puffing on his pipe.

“Why am I doing this?” Sarah asked Roxalena, who shook her head warningly.

Sarah subsided, remembering her instructions. She was not supposed to initiate conversation.

The Sultan regarded Sarah imperiously, annoyed by her question. Then he barked a further order, his benign mood dispelled.