Shadow of God (21 page)

His quarters were at the center of a perimeter guarded by the Janissaries. There were plush carpets and
kilims
covering the ground, and the walls of the tent hung with artwork brought along from the
Hazine.
There were fountains and gardens, as well as an outdoor throne set under the shade of a large tree. The orientation of the Sultan’s
serai
was such that Suleiman could watch both the sunrise and sunset from his chair outside the tent. He and Ibrahim had spent the hours talking together of the old days; of the period in their life together when there was ample time for reading and music and hunting. Ibrahim always had writing materials handy with which to take down his master’s dictation, in case the Sultan decided to write a poem.

When they arrived back at the camp on the day of the falcon hunt, Suleiman sent for lunch to be served outside under a tree. Ibrahim retrieved his viol, and quietly played old Greek tunes in
the shade. Neither spoke. Both seemed to be longing for the simpler days. While his friend played, Suleiman still wondered uneasily to himself about what secrets the young Sipahi would learn about Ibrahim.

They were finishing a lunch of cold yogurt and dried fruit when a servant arrived. Suleiman signaled for the servant to speak.

“Majesty,” he signed in Ixarette, while kneeling before Suleiman. “Your mother, the
Sultan Valideh
, has arrived. She has asked that you visit her in her tent when it is convenient.”

Suleiman nodded.

The servant went on. “And, Majesty, the Lady Gülbehar has also arrived, and she, too, wishes an audience.”

Suleiman raised his eyebrows and glanced at Ibrahim. Ibrahim merely shrugged. The servant was dismissed, leaving the two men alone once again.

“Well, a visit from the
Sultan Valideh
and the
Kadin
, Gülbehar. Quite a day this will be. I’m glad we had the hunt this morning, Ibrahim, for the rest of the day will not be so restful. Why do you suppose we are graced with such visits as these?”

“I’m not certain, Majesty.”

“Yes, well, I’ll go see my mother first. The
Kadin
can wait.”

Ibrahim rose as Suleiman left his place and walked between the rows of Janissaries toward the tents reserved for the harem.

He kept to the crimson carpeted path between the privacy wall, which was hung with row upon row of priceless tapestries. At the entry to the harem, Suleiman was met by the Chief Black Eunuch, who bowed low at the Sultan’s approach. Suleiman acknowledged the eunuch with a slight nod of the head and continued toward the harem’s entrance. There were six Janissaries guarding the doorway. They saluted as to a fellow officer, then bowed as to their Sultan. Suleiman passed into the court of the harem and made his way directly to his mother’s apartment. Several of her servants scurried ahead of the Sultan to announce his arrival.

Hafiza was sitting upon several cushions placed on the carpet. She was dressed in a satin jacket, and her hair was being set by servants with several clasps of jewels. At Suleiman’s entrance, the
maids dropped to the floor, then quickly rushed backwards from the room.

When they were alone, Hafiza turned to her only son and lowered her head in a small bow. She reached out her hand, which Suleiman took and touched to his own forehead. Then the two embraced and touched each other’s cheek in a gentle kiss.

“Ah, Mother. What are you doing in Edirne? I thought you were going to remain in the City.”

“We were all so jealous that you should see the coming of autumn here on the Maritza River, while we sweltered in the last days of the summer. So, here we are.”

“And who exactly are
we
? ”

“Gülbehar is here with me. And enough of the harem to attend to our needs…and yours, if you so desire.”

“And how many exactly would that be?”

“Not quite a hundred, my son. That should do, I think.”

Suleiman laughed at his mother’s extravagance. A hundred women in the harem meant twice that many in servants and cooks and guards. But, he could not say anything to reprimand his mother. He never would.

“And Gülbehar, how is she?”

“She is waiting to see you. She’ll tell you herself. Your son, Mustapha, stayed back at the Palace. He has been sniffling again, and we thought the trip might be dangerous for him, with the air changing and the winds starting to blow here. Not good for children to have too many changes in climate.”

“Yes, Mother. I miss him, though. Perhaps we’ll go back to the City a few days early so that I can see him. It’s been a bit too long for me. And when we go to Rhodes, it may be very long indeed before I can see him again.”

Hafiza frowned, but said nothing. She was not in favor of still another military campaign, still more Turkish lives lost in battle. But, she kept silent because she knew that her son was intent upon dislodging the Infidels from their island. And, since the Shadow of God would be constantly protected by his Household Janissaries, he would never be in any real danger. It was one thing for the leaders
of the knights to fight alongside their men, but certainly not the Sultan.

Suleiman started to sit down, but Hafiza shooed him away like a badly behaved child. She waved both hands in a gesture of dismissal, something no one else in the Empire could do.

“No. No. No,” she said waving both hands. “Go to Gülbehar, and be with her. I think she has a present for you.”

“A present?” His eyes lit up like a little boy. “What could that be?”

“You’ll have to go to her and see for yourself.”

Suleiman smiled and hugged his mother again. He bent and kissed her on the top of her head, happy to smell the familiar rose fragrance that he had known since he was a little boy, a fragrance that meant home.

As he entered Gülbehar’s quarters, Suleiman was struck at how excited he had become at the surprise appearance of his family. He was a little sad that Mustapha was not there, but in his heart he knew that this would give him more time alone with Gülbehar. Unlike his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, Suleiman did not make many visits to the harem.

Suleiman walked quickly into Gülbehar’s room to find her sitting quietly on the
divan.
Clearly, she had been waiting for his arrival; her maids were nowhere to be seen. She was dressed in a fine silk robe, her hair done up in jewels, perfumed in a scent totally different from that of Hafiza. As Suleiman crossed the carpet to her, Gülbehar slipped to her knees and pressed her head to the floor. Suleiman took her hand and led her back to the
divan,
where he sat next to her. She remained silent, but never took her eyes off his. He was happy to see a look of intense joy and love in her eyes.

Before bidding her to rise, Suleiman took a moment to look at his First Lady
.
She was tall for Circassian, and more slender than most of the women in the harem. Her light willowy hair and fresh clear skin had brought her the nickname, Flower of Spring
.
Suleiman smiled at the sight of her and touched her gently on the top of her soft hair. As she rose, he could smell her perfume permeate the air around him.

Gülbehar let go of his hand and reached down to pick up a packet from the carpet. It was flat and wrapped in crimson velvet, stitched in gold edging. She handed it to Suleiman and said, “I found this for you, Majesty. I hope it will make you safe.” She lowered her eyes and waited for him to open it.

Suleiman smiled, and admired this woman who would find a gift for a man who owned nearly all there was to own in the world. What could she have possibly found that he didn’t already have?

He undid the package and dropped the wrapping to the floor. Inside was a white cotton pullover vest with short sleet sleeves. It was freshly pressed and completely free from wrinkles. On the vest was painted a pattern of small squares in black ink. Hundreds of them, both front and back, each with an Arabic symbol or words inside. The entire front and back of the vest was covered in this writing. Even the sides under the arms were inscribed with letters and words.

Suleiman held it up to the light. It was thin and fragile looking, and though he could read the letters, he had never seen anything quite like it before.

“What is this, Gülbehar? What have you found for me?”

Gülbehar laughed and took it from him. She held it by both shoulders and presented the front to him. “It’s a medicinal shirt, Majesty. I got it from a holy man who told me that he had a dream in which the Prophet—may His soul rest eternally in peace—came to him and gave him directions for making this shirt. He recited sacred names and words that will protect you. He says it will even turn away bullets and arrows. It is truly magical, my Lord. You must wear it when you next go into battle.”

Suleiman took the shirt and held it up to his chest. “It will fit nicely under my robes and even my armor. I will wear it whenever I go to war. And for this wonderful gift, I thank you. And I thank the Prophet, may his soul rest in peace, for sending the holy man this dream.”

He put the shirt aside on the
divan
and took Gülbehar’s hand in his. “Who but you could find such a gift for me? Thank you. And, what of Mustapha?”

“He is well, my Lord. He walks and he runs away from his guards at every chance. He tries to hide from them, and they pretend they can’t find him. He is a love and of course he misses seeing his father, but I feared bringing him here to you. He is still just a baby, and may become sick on such a trip. Better that he stay at the Palace for now.”

“Yes, the
Sultan Valideh
told me. But, I am pleased you are here, and we’ll all be back in the City before long anyway. Have your dinner, and I will send for you later. You will spend the night with me. It’s been too long.” Suleiman kissed Gülbehar’s cheeks and rose to leave.

As soon as he was gone, Gülbehar’s maids rushed into the room and began preparing her for her night with the Sultan. She would be bathed and perfumed. Hairs would be plucked and scraped and dark brown kohl applied to her eyelids. She would wear a sheer silk gown sewn with gold, a gift Suleiman had given her after her last night in his bed. Pearls would be woven into her hair.

After all the preparations, she would remain in her tent, sitting on the
divan
with her maids in attendance, quietly awaiting the summons from her Sultan.

Abdullah entered the Privy Chamber of the Sultan. He pressed his head against the floor, then rose as Suleiman bid him to speak.

“You have been gone for four weeks, young man. I hope you have news for me that will put this matter to rest. ”

“I hope so, too, Majesty. I followed the Captain of the Inner House as you instructed me, for four nights over as many weeks. He never did actually catch me, though on one night he looked in my direction for a very long time. I think he would have fought with me, but he feared for the safety of the man with him.”

“What man? You get ahead of yourself. Start from the beginning.”

And so the young Sipahi collected himself, and told the story of each of the nights in detail; how Ibrahim always found the same derelict man sleeping in different parts of the city; how he would bathe and clothe him; how he would buy him food and shelter; and how he would sometimes stay the night with him.

Suleiman stirred uneasily. “And? The man? Did you find out who he is?”

“I did, Majesty. On the last visit, I took it upon myself to get very close and listen to them talk. It was the very last night, and I followed them into a poor restaurant in a shabby part of the city. They sat at a table near the window, and I crouched beneath the outside sill all through their supper. I could not hear all of what they said. At first there was only talk of the sea. It soon became apparent that the man had been a sailor. From Greece, I think.”

Suleiman raised his bushy eyebrows. “How did you know he was from Greece?”

“Because, Majesty, though they spoke mostly in Turkish, the old man had a heavy Greek accent. I heard him talk of his days at sea, and how he wished he could sail away from here. Then he would talk in a language unfamiliar to me, but I think it was Greek. I have learned a few words of Greek when I was at your schools, and it sounded thus to me.”