The Kadin Read online

  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!”

  C
aptain 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.

  “Now, listen to me, all of you,” spoke Captain Riza from the center of the main cave. “We are in mortal danger and will be safe only if you remain silent You may speak softly now, but when I give the signal, there is to be complete silence. Only those in charge may speak then, and if I hear one voice I should not I will rip the tongue from the offending one’s head Do you understand me?” His moustache bristled, and heads nodded

  The torches cast a rosy glow on the sand-colored walls of the cave. The frightened group spoke in hushed whispers as the excitement of their escape and the horrible reality of their situation had its full impact on them. Each had the same thought—somewhere out in the night was a band of violent men intent on murder. They did not want to die—at least not now. And certainly not in this manner.

  Prince Suleiman stood in a corner digging a spear into the ground His young face was strained and angry. He didn’t want to be penned in this rock fortress. He wanted to be outside avenging himself on those who wanted to attack him and his family. It had taken several sharp words from his mother to get him to enter the shelter; and despite the fact that Captain Riza had taken the time to explain the logic of the situation to him, his young heart seethed with anger. Suleiman took his position as Prince Selim’s eldest son and heir very seriously.

  A hand fell on his shoulder. “I know, Suleiman, I want to be out there, too.” It was Mohammed, his favorite brother. The closeness of these two was amazing. Only four months separated them in age, and only four months distinguished between the heir and the second son. Yet never had the younger resented the older. “Hammed the Happy” was what the slaves called him, and he truly was. Where Suleiman was dark-haired, Mohammed was tawny. Suleiman’s gray-green eyes crackled with authority, but he was a somewhat shy young man. Mohammed’s dark-blue eyes sparkled with laughter, and all would have admitted that he was the extrovert of the family. An imperial Ottoman prince by birth, but somehow more touchable and nearer to the common man than the rest of his kin.

  Selim’s children had grown up as no children of the Ottoman family ever had or ever would again. So strong was the bond of friendship among the prince’s four kadins, and so well had the first three kept the vow made that night in Candia eighteen years before, that nothing would ever separate them.

  Suleiman was the heir. Never had anyone questioned it. The nine boys and four girls had grown from babyhood genuinely loving one another. They protected, fought, and teased each other as average children in any large family. They understood that they were princes and princesses of a great line, but they always acknowledged that Suleiman was the heir. In fact, they were proud of it One day their oldest brother would be sultan, and when he was, he would do away with the barbaric custom of killing off all other potential heirs. It simply never occurred to any of the brothers that they might do away with Suleiman and steal the throne for themselves.

  Their insularity from Constantinople and their grandfather’s court had protected them, and they would retain this attitude as long as they lived.

  “Captain”—the voice of the tower observer cut through the cave—“they’re coming!”

  “Silence, all of you,” roared Captain Riza as he ran up the steps. Peering into the darkness, the captain saw the lighted palace and was then able to pick out the shadowy figures of men and horses about it. Selim’s four kadins joined him. They could hear the savage shouts of the men, their words carrying through the clear night air.

  “There’s no one here! The palace is empty!”

  “It can’t be! They must be hiding!”

  “Look for a cellar beneath the palace. Search the grounds!”

&n
bsp; “Captain, the farm animals are all gone!”

  “Then burn the barns! Burn everything! We must find them. They cannot have gone far.”

  “Maybe they were warned and fled by boat!”

  “No, captain, the boats are here.”

  “You, there! Take ten men and go back and search that village we passed. These people love Selim. They’d hide his family. Find them!”

  Dark shapes raced across the estate. They poked and pried into every nook and cranny, trampling the gardens, smashing the statuary—and then a light appeared on the horizon.

  “Allah! They’re burning the village,” whispered Cyra.

  “Don’t worry, my lady kadin. We can rebuild, and the people have an instinct for survival. They have long since fled.”

  “Cyra,” sobbed Firousi, “they are burning our palace!”

  Through the night they watched in silence as the lovely white palace burned. The outer marble walls were not destoyed, but the interior, they knew, would be gutted.

  The gray dawn heralded the arrival of the spring rains. The day was as dark as their mood. Captain Riza sent two of his men, garbed like the intruders, out to spy. Returning several hours later, they informed Captain Riza that the hostile captain had determined that Prince Selim’s family had to be somewhere in the area, and had decided to camp on the palace grounds one more night to search further. His own spies had ascertained that the imperial wives and children had not fled to Constantinople, nor, for that matter, in any other direction. Several people caught in the village had been tortured but had revealed nothing.

  The Jinn’s Cave was naturally cool, and after a severe winter, coupled with the chill rains, it had not warmed up, but they could light no fires lest the escaping smoke betray them. As a result, they were cold and miserable. Most of the morning they huddled together in their quilts, torn between despair and the hope that young Prince Kasim had reached the capital and was now bringing help.

  In Constantinople it was midmorning when a weary young horseman arrived before the great gates of the Eski Serai. He dismounted and pounded on the large doors. The grizzled head of an old soldier popped from the guardhouse above.