The Kadin (12 page)

“Yet we have had several messengers from him in that time.”

“But how could he know he would choose me first?”

“He has known from the beginning, Cyra. I know that Europeans find it difficult to believe that an Oriental prince, surrounded as he is by many lovely maidens, could love honestly; but did you find your first visit to my nephew tonight a simple physical experience?”

“Oh, no,” cried the blushing girl. “It was beautiful, and pure, and—” She stopped, suddenly at a loss for words.

Lady Refet smiled gently. “Say no more,” she said, patting the girl’s hand. “Once I, too, felt the same way.” She flung open the doors at the end of the female sleeping quarters, and they entered the reception room of Cyra’s new suite.

The walls were tiled in a rich blue glaze decorated with a yellow geometric pattern. Directly facing them was a small fountain of polished, dark-red stone. At each end of the room was a door.

“The eunuchs guarding you are quartered there,” said Lady Refet, pointing to the left. “Your own female slaves will be here.” She motioned to the right

Beneath their feet the floor was of the same polished red marble as the fountain. On the fountain wall were two doors. One was small, the other a large double door of carved and gilded wood which opened into a charming salon.

Cyra gazed about her in delight The yellow walls were set with heavy wooden beams decorated with painted floral designs in reds, blues, greens, and golds. The paneled ceiling repeated the motif of the beams. The floor was a creamy marble.

In the center of the room stood a round fireplace tiled in red and yellow. Above it hung a highly polished, conically shaped copper hood. The fire, blazing merrily, warmed the salon and cast its sparkling reflection into the windows at the far end of the room. Small glass panes covered almost the entire wall and concealed a door that opened onto a colonnaded porch and out into a private walled garden that hung above the sea.

Walking into the chill of the early morning, Cyra looked about her. The garden had been perfectly laid out Narrow paths wandered among the flower beds. There were flowering trees and shrubs, now dormant with thickly covered buds awaiting the spring to come. There were firlike trees that reminded Cyra of her childhood Scots homeland. Moving along one of the paths, she came upon a pool with a little waterfall designed to appear as if nature had placed it there.

Suddenly the girl realized that the garden had been made to look like Glen Rae, a favorite childhood haunt of which she had often spoken to Lady Refet. Hot, silent tears splashed down her cheeks, and she quickly brushed them away.

“We thought to make you happy, my dear. If the memory is too painful, the garden will be changed.” She placed a motherly arm about the young woman.

“No, madam. Change nothing. I weep with discovery of the love that surrounds me. I have no regrets. The garden is lovely.”

“Very well, then come and see my nephew’s crowning touch, for he had a bit of Turkey placed in your Highland glen.” Leading her charge away from the pool, she pointed to the exquisite pale-pink marble kiosk at the far end of the garden. “Selim calls it the ‘dawn kiosk,’ because the first rays of the morning sun touch it and reflect the aurora colors on its dome. Do you like it?”

Wordlessly, Cyra nodded.

Lady Refet smiled. “There will be time to explore later, but now it is time for you to rest.”

They reentered the salon, and Cyra again silently admired her new riches—the thick, colorful rugs spread about the floors, the shining brass and copper lamps, the polished woods of the furniture, the rainbow silks and velvets of the cushions and draperies.

Lady Refet moved to a wall. “Here is a secret entry and exit to your bedchamber.” She gently pressed a barely visible raised carving on a beam. The wall slid open, and she stepped through, beckoning Cyra to follow her. “Tell no one of this and use it only in an emergency,” she counseled.

The bedchamber was a miniature of the salon. A large sleeping couch hung with green silk curtains and set on an elevated gilded platform dominated one wall. In the corner next to it was a tiled fireplace.

At a clap of her hands, two pretty slave girls appeared before Lady Refet “This is Fekriye, and this is Zala. They are yours,” she said.

The two girls bowed and, without a word, set about divesting Cyra of her garments and replacing them with her nightclothes.

“And now, my dear, I leave you to your dreams. I am sure they will be happy ones.” Kissing her nephew’s new ikbal on the forehead, she left the room.

“When shall we awaken you, my lady?” asked Zala.

“At the hour before midday,” replied the suddenly exhausted girl.

The two slaves bowed and left their mistress.

Cyra lay down on her couch, but she could not sleep. Restlessly, she shifted her position several times. She finally arose and, snatching a cloak from her wardrobe, walked out into the garden. The sky was awash with color, the sun just beginning to rise as she reached the kiosk. Here, alone with herself, she could try to sort out the thoughts that tumbled through her mind.

Prince Selim was in love with her. This much she was certain of, for no man other than one in love could have been so gentle with her. That she was young and inexperienced, she knew; but only a fool could have missed the hunger in his eyes. He was the master, and she the slave. Yet he had gone out of his way to please her. Would he be the same with the others? No, she decided, he would not He would expect them to behave as they had been taught in his father’s harem.

With a shock she realized the power that was potentially hers. She must tred lightly, for he was not a man to be ruled by a woman, no matter how deep his feelings. And unless she gave him a son before one of the others.… His influence was good only as long as he lived.

The others! She felt a stab of jealousy prick her. He could send for any one of the others at any time; and even if he did not right away, when she became pregnant he would not wait Selim Khan was a healthy and lusty young man, and Cyra was a realist.

“No, no, no,” she whispered fiercely, and then, remembering his kisses, his caresses, his hands gently exploring the secret places of her body, she flushed and grew warm. She wanted to go back to his bed and be loved, and then afterward sit facing him and talk.

Am I in love or am I simply a shameless wanton? she questioned herself. She did not know. Slowly she rose and walked back into her bedchamber. I must sleep, she thought. If I do not, I shall look like an ancient hag tonight. Oh, Allah, let the day go quickly.

14

T
HE SUMMONS CAME AT NOON
, and, with it, Selim’s gifts to his beloved in honor of their first night together—and as a token of his pleasure with her.

The little harem had gathered in Cyra’s new quarters. At first they were shy, but the new favorite, though aware of her exalted position, was the same Cyra they loved, and soon her chambers hummed with lively chatter and occasional bursts of giggles. Sherbets, fresh fruit, and coffee were being served when a slave entered and whispered something to Cyra.

“He may enter.” Turning to her friends, she said, “The prince’s messenger is here.”

The room became silent as the eunuch entered. Placing the traditional wrapped handkerchief in front of her, he said, “Most blessed and exalted of women, I bring you greeting from our lord, Prince Selim Khan. May he live a thousand years! He sends these tokens of his affection to you and asks that you join him at the tenth hour this evening.”

“Tell our gracious lord that his slave thanks him for his gifts. I shall obey his commands at the tenth hour this night,” she answered.

The eunuch bowed and left

She stared at the handkerchief. She had heard talk of Sultan Bajazet’s gifts in the Eski Serai. It was said that the more ornate the cloth, the higher the compliment The square was of the palest eggshell-blue, embroidered on all four sides with a two-inch border of gold thread, small seed pearls, coral, and turquoises. She touched it reverently.

“In Allah’s name,” Sarina’s voice cut through the quiet “open it before we die of curiosity.”

For once they all agreed with the prickly Spaniard. Cyra loosened the intricate folds, and the silk opened to reveal an exquisite Kashmiri shawl of soft spring green, a necklace and matching earrings of turquoise set in gold, a heart-shaped ruby ring, and several charming gold bracelets, carved with flowers, that Selim had made himself. Like all of Osman’s line, the prince had learned a trade. He was an extremely competent goldsmith.

Cyra was speechless at the generosity of it all but her companions exclaimed in delight.

Sensing her friend’s mood, Firousi spoke gently. “There is more, Cyra.”

“More?”

“The slave who accompanied the eunuch also left this.” She pointed to a large carved-ivory box at Cyra’s feet.

Opened, the box revealed the traditional bag of gold coins, two bolts of cloth—the first a peacock-blue silk, the second a sheer golden gauze—and, lastly, a dark-green leather case fitted with two gold brushes, half a dozen tortoise-shell and gold combs, a crystal box holding tortoise-shell hairpins set with pearls, four crystal scent bottles, and a carved gold mirror set with real Venetian glass.

“You have obviously found favor with the prince,” said Sarina archly, fingering the silk.

Lady Refet looked up from her embroidery.

“I do not know why he chose me first,” said Cyra. “I thought surely it would be you. You danced so beautifully last night. Or perhaps Firousi, who sang so well.”

“In Allah’s name,” snapped Sarina, “must you always be the diplomat? Of course I’m jealous of you, Cyra! All of us are, but you are the chosen one. I could have danced my feet off, and Firousi could have sung until she was hoarse as a crow, and still our Lord Selim would have seen no one except you. I accept that.” She laughed, “However, when you ripen with child, he will see one of us, and then you’ll be the jealous one!”

“I think you’re hateful and spiteful to spoil Cyra’s happiness,” cried Firousi.

“No,” replied Cyra. “She is simply reminding me of the truth. Each of you will be called to our lord’s couch eventually, and then you will know the happiness I know. This is our fate, and we must not allow petty jealousy to turn our quarters into a nest of intrigue like the sultan’s harem. This is a small household, but it must always be a happy one for our lord.”

Lady Refet bent again over her embroidery. Such wisdom in one so young, she thought Praise Allah—and Hadji Bey’s sharp eye!

“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.