The Kadin Page 9

  “You are exquisite,” she said to Cyra. “You will outshine every other female at the reception.”

  “You’re sure the colors are right?” asked the girl “We spent hours yesterday choosing them.”

  Lady Refet nodded approvingly. She knew who had bribed the mistress of the wardrobe to allow her girls to choose their costumes a day early. That lady owed her position to Hadji Bey and was completely loyal to him. “Look at yourselves, my little birds. You are all lovely.”

  They gazed at each other again. Cyra wore sheer, pale-green silk pantaloons with a matching bodice that was shot through with golden threads and fringed with small pieces of jade; a wide gold girdle encrusted with jade rested upon her hips. Her red-gold hair had been brushed until it glistened. Held back by a simple gold clasp with a pearl tassle, it fell straight down her back. On her feet were green-and-gold brocade slippers. Lady Refet slipped a matching green pelisse lined with gold-colored satin about her shoulders.

  Zuleika wore lavender silk pantaloons and a matching bodice trimmed in purple velvet A beautifully worked girdle of gold and amethysts, brocade slippers, and a purple silk pelisse lined with lavender velvet completed her costume. Her blue-black hair, pulled severely back from her face to best show off her delicate Oriental features, was braided with lilac-colored ribbons and pearls.

  Firousi’s pantaloons and matching silver-threaded bodice were turquoise, to match her eyes. Her girdle was heavy silver set with rare Persian lapis. On her feet she wore turned-up brocade slippers, and about her shoulders a turquoise-blue pelisse lined with creamy satin. Her silvery-blond hair fell in luscious curls about her plump pink shoulders.

  Lady Refet handed each girl a little tassled cap—cloth of gold for Cyra and Zuleika, cloth of silver for Firousi. “Hadji Bey will be very pleased,” she said, smiling. “Now sit quietly while I inspect my other girls.” She moved among the others, bestowing a word of praise on a costume here, the suggestion of a bit more red on the cheeks there, a comforting pat to a frightened girl.

  A eunuch came to call them. It was time for the reception. The gediklis formed two straight lines.

  “Now, remember,” said Lady Refet speaking softly to her special charges, “separate as soon as you reach the Great Hall. Do not be seen together. Firousi, when the maidens begin to approach the sultan and the prince, be among the first You, Zuleika, wait until half the girls have passed, and you, Cyra, be in the last group.”

  Bajazet’s royal residence had been the former home of the Byzantine emperors, and the Turks called it the Eski Serai, or “Old Palace,” to distinguish it from the Yeni Serai, or “New Palace,” which had been begun by the sultan’s father, Mohammed the Conqueror. The Yeni Serai was used by the Ottoman ruler for state functions, and also for privacy when he wished to escape his household. No women were allowed to live there.

  Entering the Great Hall, Cyra caught her breath at its loveliness. It was domed in gold leaf; its walls shone with blue-and-gold mosaic tile; the floor was made of great blocks of pure, cream-colored marble. Although it was autumn, large jewel-studded porcelain pots containing small palms, roses, azaleas, and tulips filled the room. Decorative cages of canaries and nightingales hung everywhere. Musicians, carefully hidden behind carved screens, played softly. Moving discreetly through the crowd, slaves passed small cakes, sherbets, candied fruits, and nuts.

  Then, suddenly, the great gilded door was flung open, and there came a cry: “Behold our great sultan, Bajazet, a loyal defender of Allah upon this earth.” The sultan and his retinue, consisting of his three veiled kadins, their attendants, and Prince Selim, entered. The sultan and the prince settled themselves on the raised dais. The kadins were placed nearby.

  Bajazet lifted his hand and spoke. “Because of the love I bore my late bas-kadin, Kiusem, the ‘Peerless One,’ I have recalled our son, Selim, from Magnesia. His new duties will be to govern a nearby Crimean province, and in honor of his twenty-fifth birthday, I have given him leave to choose six maidens from among my gediklis. These are my gift to him. Those who are chosen will be his own forever. Let the virgins pass before my son.”

  The ceremony began, and slowly, one by one, each girl paraded before the sultan and his son, her arms folded across her chest in the traditional pose. Some were aloof, some frightened, some giggled, and some smiled knowingly. The women of Bajazet’s harem had been culled from the four corners of the world and their reputation for beauty was well earned. As she stopped before the sultan, each was divested of her pelisse by a slave, who draped it again over her shoulders after her presentation.

  Cyra watched all of this from a quiet corner of the hall Gazing at Prince Selim, she got her first good look at the man who would be her master. He was tall and slender, with his mother’s fair skin and light eyes. His hair, dark and slightly curling, was visible beneath his small white turban. His face, which was smooth-shaven, wore a grave look, but his lips occasionally twitched in a half smile of amusement at the carefully staged pageant going on before him. Next to him stood a slave holding a silver tray upon which rested six embroidered white silk handkerchiefs.

  When Firousi, who was the third girl presented, stopped before the throne, Prince Selim motioned to the slave, who stepped from the dais and presented her with one of the silks. A murmur of approval hummed through the hall.

  The second girl chosen was a Spaniard with warm olive skin, topaz-colored eyes, and tumbling chestnut hair. Her name was Sarina. She took her place at the foot of the dais, casting a sulky look at Firousi.

  Selim’s third choice was a tiny maiden from the plains of India, Amara. Her dark-brown eyes lowered shyly as she was handed the silken square. A rosy blush suffused her creamy brown cheek as the prince smiled at her.

  Zuleika was the fourth choice. The sultan motioned to Hadji Bey.

  “I have not seen that girl before,” he said. “Nor that glorious silver-blond my son chose first.”

  “They are new, my lord. You know the harem is constantly being restocked. This is the first time in several months you have had a reception and the opportunity to see all your maidens.”

  More girls passed the dais, but two silk squares remained on the tray. Then Cyra appeared before the potentate and his son. Gracefully she glided to the foot of the throne, her proud head held high. The slave removed the pelisse. The sultan leaned forward, his tongue passing quickly over his sensuous lips. The chatter among the kadins ceased, their eyes narrowing at this potential rival.

  For the fifth time Selim nodded at the tray-bearing slave, and a moment later Cyra pressed the silk to her forehead and to her lips as she took her place with the others.

  “Another new girl, Hadji Bey?” inquired the sultan.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “How long has she been in my harem?”

  “Four months, my lord.”

  “And why have I not seen her before?”

  “She resisted us strongly, my lord. We could not properly train her until recently.”

  “I see,” said Bajazet, a slightly petulant tone entering his voice. “So I must sit here and watch my son skim off the cream of my harem. Perhaps I have been too hasty.”

  “Surely not hasty, my lord; but, rather, generous. Believe me, these girls are but semiprecious stones compared to the jewels I have hidden for you—maidens who are not here this night” He smiled knowingly at the sultan.

  The sultan chuckled. “You have always looked after my interests, Hadji Bey. Forgive your ruler for doubting you.”

  The agha nodded graciously as the remaining silk handkerchief was given to a lovely golden-blond from northern Greece with deep sapphire eyes and marble-white skin. Her name was Iris.

  “You have chosen well, my son,” said Bajazet in a tone implying that perhaps Selim had chosen too well. The loss of the red-haired girl still rankled slightly. “Let the foreign and local representatives present their gifts to my son.”

  Hadji Bey motioned to Selim’s new harem to sit by him on the dais. Fuss
ily he arranged them so that when he finally stepped back and clapped his hands to signal, Cyra, Zuleika, and Firousi were seated closest to the prince.

  Once again the slaves swung wide the great doors to the hall, admitting a large and colorful procession. First came the gifts from foreign nations. Egypt sent a dinner service for twelve—hammered gold plates with matching jewel-studded goblets. From the Mongol khan a marvelous coal-black stallion and two beautiful mares. One Indian ruler sent a gold belt two inches wide, studded with sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. Another prince of India sent two pygmy elephants. From Persia came several bolts of various-colored silks, the finest in the world. The Venetian Levant sent a flawless crystal vase, four feet in height filled with pale pink pearls, each one perfect and identical in size.

  Next came gifts from every part of the vast Ottoman Empire. One by one they were laid before the dais—beautifully woven rugs, silken bags containing rare tulip bulbs, cages of exotic birds, half a dozen Pygmy eunuchs, a choir of castrated Christian boys prized for their singing voices, the newest telescope, carved from a piece of ivory and banded in silver. This last gift, from Magnesia, the prince’s former province, particularly pleased Selim, who was an avid student of astronomy.

  As the pile of gifts grew higher and wider, Cyra watched the kadin Besma, mother of Prince Ahmed. Though she sat quietly, her face expressionless, her eyes flashed pure hatred at Selim and envy of the vast honor being paid this younger son of her lord and master.

  Cyra debated with herself for a moment, and then, when the ceremony of the gifts was over and attention was diverted by the dancing girls, she reached up unobtrusively and touched the prince’s hand. Startled, he looked down.

  “Forgive the liberty taken by this humble slave, my lord. May I speak?”

  He nodded.

  “Please notice the lady Besma. The surface of the pond is smooth, but beneath, the currents are deadly. Would it not be wise to oil those troubled waters?”

  “My slave is as wise as she is lovely,” replied Selim. “It shall be done.”

  When the entertainment was over and Bajazet started to signal an end to the evening, Selim rose and prostrated himself before his father.

  “Yes, my son?”

  “My lord father, I can never repay your kindness to me nor your great nobility in honoring your word to my mother, but I can try.” Reaching into a satin bag, he withdrew a sapphire the size of a hen’s egg, a gift from the caliph of Baghdad. “Please accept this trifle, my lord, although it cannot possibly repay you for your generosity to me.”

  Pleased with the gesture, the sultan took the jewel.

  “And,” continued the prince, “for the pearls of my father’s harem …” He reached into the Venetian vase and, removing two handfuls of the pink pearls, presented them to the third and fourth of his father’s wives. He then turned to face Besma. “And, for the rarest jewel in all the seraglio, an opal from the mines of Solomon, Its fire and beauty cannot begin to match yours, and its size”—which was that of a plum—“is surely smaller than your heart. For your son, my beloved brother Ahmed, my choirboys to sooth and entertain him.”

  From behind her thin veil Besma looked as if she had swallowed a small hedgehog. “For myself, my son, and my husband’s kadins, I thank Prince Selim,” she said sourly.

  “Well done, my son,” said the sultan. “Well done!” Raising his jeweled hand, he signaled the end of the evening and departed the Great Hall, followed by his kadins and their attendants. The gediklis, forming into two lines, then filed out.

  The Great Hall stood empty save for Prince Selim, his new harem, and Hadji Bey, who bustled forward, a broad smile upon his face.

  “Come, my lord Selim. I have arranged your apartments for this night Tomorrow after morning prayers, you and your household will depart the Eski Serai”

  “Where am I to go? No word has been given to me save that I will govern the Crimean province within two days’ ride of the city.”

  “Years ago, my prince, your father gave your mother a small palace overlooking the Black Sea. It is now yours. The lady Refet will accompany you as chaperone to your harem.”

  “May Allah bless you, old friend,” replied the prince. “My aunt will be safe now. My father’s kadins hate her because of her loyalty to me.”

  “I know,” said the agha gravely. “Already there have been two attempts on her life.”

  “What?”

  “Do not be angered, my lord. I tell you this but to warn you to be constantly vigilant But come, the walls have ears. We will talk later.” He turned to the waiting girls. “Follow me, my ladies. The hour is late.”

  Leaving the blue-and-gold hall, they trailed Hadji Bey through the winding corridors to a large apartment where they were greeted by Lady Refet The few possessions they owned had been packed and transferred to their temporary quarters, and their nightclothes had already been laid out.

  “I suggest, ladies, that you retire now. We leave early,” said Lady Refet.

  “But what if the prince should want one of us tonight?” asked Sarina.

  “He will not,” replied Lady Refet.

  “How can you know that?” persisted the girl.

  “Sarina, it is obvious to me that in your excitement at being chosen by Prince Selim, you have forgotten your manners. Your status in this world has not changed. You are still a slave—a mere gediklis—and so you shall remain unless one day you manage to please my nephew. I find that highly unlikely unless your behavior improves. Turkish gentlemen deplore rude women and usually end up bowstringing them.”

  Sarina had the good grace to flush at this well-deserved rebuke. Mumbling an apology, she made ready for bed. Lady Refet stopped by each girl’s couch to chat a minute and make her feel at ease. Then, seeing that all was well, she signaled a slave to dim the lamps, and left the room.

  “Allow no one except the agha or myself to enter here,” she instructed the guards at the door. “Your fives will be forfeit should you disobey.”

  She entered the apartment next to the one housing the girls. Prince Selim and Hadji Bey greeted her.

  “It is safe to talk here,” said the eunuch.

  “Praise Allah!” replied the good lady. “I shall be glad to leave the Eski Serai.” Turning to her nephew, she said, “Dearest boy, how can I thank you?”

  “I am ashamed to say it is Hadji Bey’s doing, aunt. I never even thought of it.”

  “I merely arranged that which I knew Your Highness would want were he not so involved with other matters.”

  “I become more amazed each day by your ability to ‘arrange’ matters,” replied the prince wryly. “Now, what of the girls you chose for me? Why those three?”

  “Each is suited to be a kadin, my lord. At your mother’s request I left Constantinople late last year to seek three exceptional wives for you. We wanted girls uninvolved with the harem system, who, knowing their future ahead of time, would give you their complete loyalty. Firousi is from the Caucasus. I purchased her in Damascus. Zuleika is from Cathay. I found her in Baghdad. Cyra comes from a country called Scotland. It is north of England. I bought her in Candia. It is for her that our hopes are highest She is endowed with that rare combination of intelligence and beauty, and has a budding wisdom, which, guided properly, will one day make her invaluable. Still, she remains completely feminine. I can only hope she will please you.”

  “I was treated to some of that wisdom this night It was she who suggested I present gifts to Besma.”

  Hadji Bey and Lady Refet smiled at each other. “The small bird learns to fly quickly,” observed the chief eunuch.

  “She also has magnificent eyes,” said the prince. “Green eyes like hers are rare. They are so clear, and there are small flecks of black and gold in them. Something like leaves in a pond.”

  “Then you are pleased with my choices, my lord?”

  “Yes, but I think my father was not I hope you have something equally lovely for him, lest he take my harem back.
Firousi is magnificent and Zuleika exquisite. You must truly be blessed by the stars to have succeeded with this coup. What do you think of my choices?”

  “The Greek and Indian girls are lovely. They are simple and placid and will be a comfort to you. However, I would rather you had chosen someone other than the Spanish girl She is quick-tempered and sharp-tongued. She may have a tendency toward troublemaking.”

  “Alas, that is true,” said Lady Refet “She attempted to question my authority this evening.”

  “We shall keep a close watch on her,” replied Hadji Bey. “Now, to the business at hand. You already know that your mother planned for you to succeed your father. Finding you perfect wives to help you and moving you closer to the capital were merely part of her plan.”

  “Yes, I know the plan, Hadji Bey. But you know that the succession goes to the eldest living male in our family. Ahmed is my father’s heir.”

  “Your father’s heir was your older brother.”

  “Mustafa died at two of a chill.”

  “He became violently ill after visiting Besma one afternoon. The sweets he returned with and offered your mother were suspect The child suffered horribly and by morning was dead. Your mother was ill for several days. However, when she recovered, she was quite prostrate with grief. I was newly agha then, but I suspected poison from the start I took the remaining candies and fed them to a dog. He died. When I told your mother, her grief became hatred toward Besma, who was now mother of the heir.”

  “Why did my mother not expose Besma?”

  “She did, but your father would not listen. After some months of solitude to recover from her agony, she appeared before your father again and, still being his favorite, was welcomed back. You were born of that reunion. Fortunately for Besma, your father now had two sons—one by his third kadin, Safiye—and the witch knew her Ahmed would be safe since your mother couldn’t discreetly dispose of two children. However, your mother had determined from before your conception that you would take Mustafa’s place.