The Kadin Page 13

  “I hope Cyra does have a child soon. Then she will be bas-kadin,” said Firousi.

  “She will,” said Zuleika, looking directly at Sarina. ‘It will be a boy.”

  Sarina glared at the beautiful Chinese. “What will happen is Allah’s will, not yours, Zuleika.”

  “Nevertheless,” replied Zuleika, “I tell you that Cyra will bear a son before a year has passed. He will be born under the sign of the Lion, and, like the lion, he will be a warrior. Both Europe and Asia will tremble at the mention of his name. He will be a ruler of great wisdom, much beloved by his people.”

  “Zuleika,” chided Lady Refet “you must not tease Sarina.”

  “I am not teasing her, my lady. I have seen all this. I know.”

  “Where have you seen it, child?”

  Zuleika unhooked a thin gold chain from around her neck. Attached to the chain was a large opal in the shape of a teardrop. “My mother gave me this before I left China. She told me if I ever wished to see into the future, I should empty my mind of all thoughts and concentrate on the opal.”

  “Then,” challenged Sarina, “why didn’t you look into it and see what was to happen to you before you reached the shah?”

  “I did look, and I saw myself surrounded by luxury, and a man who loved me. I had never seen the shah, and naturally assumed it was he, but it was our Prince Selim. Last night when he called Cyra to his couch, I gazed into my opal. I see much happiness for Cyra, and I see her son who will be a great sultan.”

  “And what do you see for the rest of us?”

  “I have not looked, Sarina. My opal is not a toy to be played with lightly.”

  Sarina sniffed disbelievingly.

  “You show much maturity, my child,” said Lady Refet “And now, my young ladies, the afternoon lengthens, and you have not yet completed your daily tasks. Cyra will be excused today since I wish her to rest.”

  Reluctantly but obediently they arose, and Cyra and Lady Refet were left alone.

  “I cannot rest”

  “You must practice self-discipline, Cyra. As my nephew’s bas-kadin you will have many responsibilities. As the mother of a sultan you will be the ruler of all our women. You will have to do many things you don’t want to do, things that inconvenience you and seem foolish and wasteful of your time; but you will do them because you must This is self-discipline, and you must cultivate it”

  “You believe Zuleika? She just said those things to annoy Sarina.”

  “Yes, I do believe Zuleika. There are many unseen forces in our world that do not conform to one’s sense of logic, but nevertheless they are there. The power to see into the future is one of those things.”

  “It is witchcraft!”

  “It is a gift from God. You speak like an ignorant peasant! Do not your own people have this ability? The Celts and the Gaels are well known for their psychic powers. You yourself, I am sure, have it Have you never asked yourself why you did not struggle more against your captivity? You did not because some inner sense told you that this was your fate, and all would be well. Zuleika has simply cultivated her ability. You have not Her people understand these things, but yours, because of their Christian religion, have been taught to fear those things which are not within, and approved by, your strict faith. This is ignorance of the worst sort But have no fear, my dear. You become more Turkish each day, and soon these childish beliefs will fade. Now, go and rest I shall look in on you later.”

  Cyra rose and went to her bedroom. Lady Refet’s words puzzled her, and she pondered them. Absently, she allowed her slaves to remove her clothing, sponge her with warmed, perfumed water, and place a light robe about her. Dismissing them, she relaxed upon her couch, mulling the words of Selim’s aunt over in her mind.

  When the older woman peeked in several hours later, Cyra lay fast asleep, a look of peace upon her face.

  15

  THE 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 simp
ly 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

  LADY REFET 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.”