by Roberta Rich
There was no answer except a truthful one. Hannah was about to speak, but the Valide held up a hand to silence her.
“The child is mine, of course. I owned Leah; therefore, I own her child.” The Valide cradled the baby even closer.
Would the child be raised in the palace, taught to embroider and play the flute, or would she be executed? Hannah imagined both of their heads on the executioner’s block.
“She has grown very dear to me, Your Highness,” said Hannah. She had to suppress the urge to snatch the baby from the Valide and race out of the palace.
“So I gather from the way you gaze upon her.” The Valide lowered the child to her lap. “Convince me why I should not take her from you.”
Hannah paused, considering carefully. “The child is of no interest to anyone but me.”
“You acknowledge she is not my son’s child?”
“Yes, I do.” Hannah’s confession was tantamount to asking for her head to be impaled on a spike and displayed on the Example Stones.
“Since you have been forthright, I will be forthright with you,” the Valide said. “I knew before Leah was within the harem walls an hour that she was pregnant.”
Hannah could not believe her ears.
“Unfortunately, by that time the Sultan had already glimpsed her and could talk of nothing else. Imagine my dilemma. I was thrilled he had taken an interest in a female other than his wretched wife. I needed Leah to break Safiye’s spell. Once she did, he would be free to pursue other girls. But protocol demanded that Leah be confirmed a virgin. Mustafa had to record this proof in The Book of Couchings.”
The Valide rocked the baby on her lap. “Any of the palace midwives would have told me the truth about Leah. But I wanted someone with a soft heart, someone who would pity the girl. So I summoned you. I knew you would lie to protect her from being sold into a brothel. What I had not reckoned on was that you would arrange matters so that my son would think he had couched the girl when he had not.”
Hannah recalled the swish of a silk pelisse she had heard the night of the couching and the sound of a gasp coming from the balcony above the Sultan’s divan. At the time, Hannah had suspected it was Safiye and felt sorry for the Sultan’s wife having to witness such an event. But it had not been Safiye; it had been the Valide.
“You know Leah is dead?” asked Hannah.
The Valide looked at Hannah, bemused or angry—Hannah could not tell. “There is little that happens in the city that I do not know.” The Valide gave a little shrug. “Inventive little Leah did her job well even in doing nothing. My son is now as licentious as a goat. After the so-called couching with Leah, his royal chamber has been visited by many young women. Three odalisques are now pregnant. Soon, babies will be raining from the heavens, filling dozens of cradles.”
Hannah was confused. What need had the Valide for this child of Leah’s when soon she would have many grandsons and granddaughters? The Valide planted a kiss on the baby’s soft, pink cheek and passed her back to Hannah. There was a spot on the Valide’s blue kaftan where the baby had wet her. People had been executed for far less. When the Valide saw Hannah looking at the stain, she smiled.
“Never mind, it is good luck when a baby makes water on you.”
Nurbanu fixed her steady gaze on Hannah. “Very few of my subjects have ever lived after lying to me, but I intend to spare you. After all, you will never reveal the details of what you have done. In the end, your duplicity has served me well.”
Hannah was so relieved she wanted to do cartwheels on the cold tile floors or throw the white China porcelain vases of red tulips out the casement window. Of course she did neither. “Thank you, Your Highness. I will say nothing, ever. I am most grateful.”
Hannah did not want to spoil the moment, but she had to ask. “Did you know all along that Leah was staying with me?” The baby was getting hungry; she was growing restless in Hannah’s arms.
“Yes, but I told the Sultan that Safiye, in a jealous rage, ordered the girl’s death. I told him the deaf-mutes had killed her and that her body would never be found, nor would anyone be able to trace Leah’s death back to Safiye, so richly had she rewarded the killers. The knowledge made her repugnant to him.” The Valide showed her square, white teeth. “Life in the harem is so complex.”
“Indeed it is,” Hannah responded. Poor Safiye. “You are the very soul of benevolence,” she managed to say. Once the words were out of her mouth, she feared they sounded sardonic. But the Valide accepted the remark as a genuine compliment. Hannah rocked the baby, hoping she would not cry. There was no need to try the Valide’s patience further.
“I should not reward you when you lied to me, but as you have pointed out, I am the soul of kindness. I shall allow you to keep her. But no one must ever know she is Leah’s child.”
The relief Hannah felt at hearing these words made her voice catch. “Of course not,” she said. “I will say that she is a poor orphan, the child of a slave girl I found in the market and took pity on.”
“Good. I have a contact in the city, a fellow Venetian who brings me tidbits of news from time to time. I hear you require a hundred ducats to pay off a certain … debt.” The Valide stroked the white dog that had crawled back on her lap.
Hannah thought of Isaac. With a hundred ducats Grazia could take the money and leave on the next vessel bound for Rome.
“Tucked behind that vase of carnations is a velvet purse.” The Valide inclined her head toward a table beside Hannah. “Accept it with my gratitude,” she said.
How Venetian the Valide was in her subtlety, giving a gift indirectly so as not to embarrass the recipient. Hannah did not know what to say.
“Go on.”
With one hand, she reached out and took the pouch. It was heavy. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“I know you will use this money wisely. You may go.”
Hannah carefully moved the baby so she could tuck the purse into the pocket of her skirt. A sudden joy filled her. If she had been standing instead of seated, her knees would have given out. She looked at the Valide one last time and then tucked the baby under one arm and crawled backwards, awkwardly, from the room, the pouch of ducats clinking against her leg.
Just as she had struggled to rescue Isaac from the Knights of St. John in Malta so long ago, now she would save him again. And their marriage.
CHAPTER 22
District of Eminönü Constantinople
IT WAS ALREADY dark when Hannah returned home from the palace. She went straight upstairs. Isaac was seated upright in bed, his nightshirt opened at the neck. “Oh my God,” he said, jumping to his feet. “It’s so late and I thought the worst. I thought …” He took her and the baby in his arms, resting his chin on the top of Hannah’s head. “I thought …” he began again, but could not go on.
“I know,” said Hannah.
“I wasn’t even here to say goodbye when you left. You could have died alone thinking I didn’t care for you anymore.”
In the doorway, hesitant to move into the bedchamber, stood Möishe and Zephra, both smiling. Möishe said, “Your head is still attached to your shoulders, I see.” He could turn the grimmest subject into a joke.
Zephra entered and patted Hannah’s cheek. “I am so happy you are alive.”
Behind Möishe and Zephra, in the shadows, stood Grazia. She made no move to come into the bedroom, and from the look on her face she was not as happy as the others were to see Hannah and the baby.
“A joyous occasion,” she said finally, and then retreated downstairs.
Zephra and Möishe followed her.
“Such a lovely child,” Isaac said.
“The Valide gave her to me. I will raise her, if you agree.” A tone of defensiveness had crept into her voice.
“Hannah, I am sorry about the way things have been between us—so strained, so difficult. We will raise the child together. You and I.”
Hannah felt a stir of hope. She looked down at the baby, their baby. T
he tiny face, the rounded cheeks, the mouth like the bud of a rose. She looked so much like Leah, it broke Hannah’s heart. The Valide had almost certainly noticed the resemblance but had not mentioned it.
“And, Isaac, I have the money to repay Grazia.”
He turned to her, a puzzled look on his face.
“The Valide gave it to me.”
“Are you jesting?”
She passed him the baby and took the velvet purse from her pocket. She shook it so the coins jangled.
The look of pure happiness on Isaac’s face made Hannah regret her earlier suspicions.
“I do not know what to say.” Isaac laid the baby down in her cradle and gave it a slight push with his hand. “I was so afraid of losing you, Hannah. I saw us drifting further and further apart until there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it. I never wanted Grazia. All I wanted to do was placate her to buy us more time. I was trapped.”
Hannah began to see all of Isaac’s actions in a different light. He had not been fawning over Grazia after all, but was merely trying to keep her at bay.
“Shall we tell Grazia the news together?” Hannah asked, taking his hand.
They found her in the garden, tossing a ball to Matteo. Grazia had not been looking well of late. Her mouth was tight. She was not taking the usual care with her appearance. Today her dress was creased and her hair had been arranged in haste.
“We have your money,” Hannah announced without preamble. “Now you can sail home and remarry.”
Grazia stared at her and then at Isaac, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Aren’t you overjoyed?” Isaac asked, his arm around Hannah’s shoulder.
Hannah showed her the velvet pouch. Grazia took it, weighing it in her palm. She did not look like a woman who had just been handed a fortune.
“Where did you get this?” Grazia asked.
“It does not matter,” said Hannah.
“Aren’t you happy?” Isaac asked.
“Of course, I am overjoyed. It is just so unexpected.” But when she tried to smile, her lips remained closed and tight.
Matteo wrapped his arms around Grazia’s legs and buried his face in her skirts.
“I am happy, of course I am. It is just that I shall miss you all so terribly.” Grazia fondled Matteo’s ear. From the chicken coop in rear of the garden, the rooster crowed three hearty cock-a-doodle-doos.
“Isaac will ask the Rabbi to arrange for the divorce,” said Hannah.
Grazia took Hannah in an embrace. “Dear clever sister-in-law.” She kissed her on both cheeks. “I am so very pleased that you will remain Isaac’s wife.”
There was such a note of insincerity in Grazia’s voice that Hannah wondered why Grazia had bothered to say the words at all.
The following day, Hannah, Isaac, and Grazia went to the Rabbi’s study, where two other rabbis were present. Under the direction of Rabbi Yakov, Grazia untied from Isaac’s foot a sandal specially designed for the ritual divorce ceremony and hurled it across the room. She then spit on the ground in front of Isaac, declaring, “My brother-in-law refuses to raise unto his brother’s memory a name in Israel; he will not marry me.”
Isaac, as the ceremony demanded, responded, “I do not wish to take her.”
Hannah noted with relief the elation in his voice as he said the words.
Grazia continued at the urging of the Rabbi: “Marriage to you would be an abomination.” She said it without conviction, but Hannah didn’t care.
Then it was over.
They walked home together, Grazia lingering a few steps behind Hannah and Isaac. Isaac cradled Jessica in his arms. He brushed against Hannah from time to time and smiled at her, making jokes and teasing her.
“So I am to be deprived of the happiness of having two wives to scold me and order me about?” Grazia made no reply, not even a smile.
When they reached their house, his face took on the tender look it got when he was thinking of making love to her. She was glad she had been to the mikvah recently and so was ready to receive his love. She felt the old Isaac coming back to her, and she accepted him as easily as she might envelop herself in a cherished cloak.
That night was hot and so muggy that Isaac suggested they sleep under the stars. In the middle of their garden was a secluded space formed by arching willow trees and carpeted with moss. On summer nights when their bedchamber grew unbearably hot, they often slept there.
When Isaac made love to her, he let her reach her fulfillment first. When it was his turn, he called out her name. When Isaac had persuaded her to marry him, he had promised no one would ever love her as much as he would. Falling asleep beside her, holding her in his arms, Isaac had kept that promise. Thank you, God, Hannah prayed, for returning my husband to me.
At dawn, as they were waking up under the willow, Isaac said, “Good morning, dear wife.” He kissed her on the forehead and drew her closer. They made love again, tenderly, and later, still in each other’s arms, discussed their plans for the day ahead.
Isaac said, “Grazia wants to take Matteo to the parade to celebrate Prince Mehmet’s circumcision.”
Hannah wiggled out from under his arm and sat up. “The streets will be packed with thousands of people. What if he gets tired and has to be carried? What if he stumbles under the wheels of a cart? I think it is wiser if we all go.”
“But baby Jessica needs you here,” said Isaac. “And Möishe and I have work to do on the looms. Matteo will be thrilled to have Grazia all to himself before she takes her leave. It is only for a few hours.”
“I suppose you are right,” Hannah said with reluctance. She should not let her dislike of Grazia interfere with Matteo’s love for his aunt.
“It will be a spectacular event,” said Isaac. “This will be a day he remembers for the rest of his life.”
CHAPTER 23
IT WAS LATE afternoon and Hannah was chopping onions for a beef stew. Matteo and Grazia should have returned hours ago from the Parade of the Circumcision. Of course, Matteo would be enjoying the jugglers, the magicians, and the bears, but Hannah worried that Grazia would exhaust him. Grazia would let him drink too much sherbet and buy him dozens of sweetmeats, which he adored. Oh well. How often was a prince’s circumcision celebrated with a parade lasting fifty-three days?
The house seemed deserted without the boy’s exuberant cries. By this time in the afternoon he could be counted on to fling his bedsheet over his shoulders like a cloak and charge up and down the stairs. Other days, he would be in the garden practising walking his tightrope.
Before Hannah took the baby to Tova’s to be nursed, she must go to Grazia’s room to find Matteo’s old swaddling bands. Lately, a few ordinary items had gone missing. It must be the work of the djinns. This morning, it had been Matteo’s blanket. Matteo had been inconsolable and sobbed throughout breakfast. He flung himself from his chair, refusing to sit at the table or eat his bread until Grazia searched the house and came back with the blanket.
“Where was it?” Hannah had asked.
“Oh,” Grazia said, “in the garden.”
Odd. Hannah hadn’t seen it there, but no matter. Matteo was overjoyed to have it back and sat clutching it to his chest.
Now, Hannah held the baby upright, patting her back while she climbed the stairs to Grazia’s room. The sleeping mattress was neatly rolled up and put away. The cupboard doors were closed. The curtains were blowing through the open casement window.
Something was very wrong. The bottles and jars of creams and scents and oils that were always arranged on the low table under the window, Grazia’s precious blue enamelled box containing red powder—all gone. The room had been used by the previous owners as a storeroom for turbans. The walls were lined with niches. Grazia had used these for storing odds and ends—gloves and shoes and a hat. Now they were empty.
Hannah searched the closet for her suitcase, but all she found was dust.
“Isaac! Isaac!” she called. “Come, quickly.”
Moments later, she heard Isaac bounding up the stairs.
He came in, his hands and the front of his apron stained green from dye. “What is wrong?”
Hannah paced back and forth, holding the whimpering baby. “All of Grazia’s things are gone.”
Isaac surveyed the barren room and looked into the closet. “There must be a simple explanation.”
Hannah stared at Isaac, wanting to shake him. “Isaac, she has Matteo. All her clothing and personal effects are gone. Do you not understand? She has taken Matteo!”
“What? But … why?”
Why could not Isaac, who was so much wiser in the ways of the world than she, realize what had happened? “We have no time to waste!” Hannah’s voice was so loud that the baby began to cry, reaching a crescendo that made it impossible to hear what Isaac was saying.
Zephra came into the room. “Please take her to Tova for a feeding,” said Hannah. Jessica’s angry pink face nodded over the old servant’s shoulder as Zephra left the room.
“Isaac, we must look for him—and fast.”
“But there must be some expl—”
Hannah interrupted. “Isaac, no.” This was not a Talmudic debate about how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. Now was the time for action. A thought struck her. “This morning, when they left, Grazia insisted on taking Matteo’s blanket.” Hannah could not explain it, but there was something about Grazia’s insistence that had disturbed her. Matteo’s blanket—the only thing that linked him to his natural parents.
A look of alarm crossed Isaac’s face. Finally, he was beginning to see.
“We will find him. Don’t worry,” he said.
They hurried to the front door, where Isaac took his berete from the hook. Hannah slipped on her sandals. She called to Zephra to tell her they were going out, before remembering that she had already left with the baby for Tova’s house. Hannah wrenched open the front door and together they ran out.
“They must be heading through the crowds to the docks,” Hannah said.