The Kadin

by Bertrice Small

  “Zuleika?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good! This is a dangerous task I have set you, and your silence is the key to its success. Discuss it with no one, not even among yourselves. I cannot stress that enough. The seraglio is filled with slaves whose only task is to listen and report all that is said among the maidens. The merest hint of my plans, and you could easily end up in a weighted sack tossed into the sea.

  “Go to your cabin now and rest, for tomorrow evening we reach Constantinople. From this moment on, I am the agha kislar, not your special friend, but fear not my daughters, I will be watching you and guarding your lives.”

  They left him, and for a moment he stood quietly. Then, going to a chest by his couch, he lifted up a black velvet bag. Slipping out a shallow, seamless crystal bowl, he set it on the table and poured some fresh water into it. He sat down and gazed deeply into the still water. For several minutes he contemplated the visions that came to him in the water. A smile played across his lips.

  “It will go well,” he whispered softly to himself. “Praise Allah! It will go well!”

  At the moment Hadji Bey was gazing into his crystal bowl, Pietro di San Lorenzo was landing at Arcobaleno. Delayed by a fierce storm, he had not thought to see land again. He went directly to the pink villa of the earl of Glenkirk. The earl was devastated by his news.

  “Was there nothing you could do?” he asked.

  “My lord, I thought I had her safe. I jumped the caliph of Baghdad’s bid by five thousand pieces of gold. Abdul ben Abdul was raising his gavel to finalize the sale when that devil Hadji Bey bid thirty thousand. I protested his bid. I even tried to raise the money from among the other buyers, but there was none who would dare defy the sultan of the Ottoman Empire. All sales must be cash.”

  “Perhaps the sultan would ransom her,” suggested the earl.

  “There is no chance, my lord. It was not just any eunuch who bought your daughter. It was Hadji Bey, the agha kislar himself. He is the most powerful man, aside from the sultan, in Bajazet’s household.

  “This man rarely leaves Constantinople. He is not a buyer of slave girls, yet the gossip is that he has been out of Constantinople for several months. He is reported to have bought a maid of Cathay in Baghdad and an exquisite blond in Damascus. He almost killed himself to get to the sale in Candia. Your daughter and these other girls are obviously meant for something special. There is simply no hope of ransom.”

  Six weeks later, a heartbroken Patrick Leslie, his son, Adam, and Mary MacKay returned to Scotland. When the king had the temerity to suggest another diplomatic post, the earl exploded.

  “I have given you three years of my life, and lost my only daughter in your service, James Stuart! You’ll not get more from me! I return to Glenkirk and never will you see my face again!”

  Rudolfo di San Lorenzo mourned his loss but three months. Then, the negotiations being settled, he married Princess Marie-Hélène of Toulouse.

  PART II

  Cyra

  1493–1494

  9

  SULTAN BAJAZET’S THIRD SON, Selim, was a tall and slender young man with his mother’s fair skin and gray eyes. His hair was dark and slightly wavy. His face, which generally wore a grave expression, was smooth-shaven, with high cheekbones, a slim but prominent nose, and thin, yet full, lips.

  Because it was expected that he would never inherit the throne of his father, little attention had been paid to him since his birth. This suited his mother who, remembering the murder of her first son, desired that she and her child be as inconspicuous as possible.

  With the permission of Selim’s grandfather, Sultan Mohammed, Kiusem and her child lived in the most remote section of the Eski Serai—outside the women’s quarters—in the Tulip Court They were discreetly but fiercely protected by a troop of the agha kislar’s militant and trusted mute eunuchs, and attended by a dozen fanatically loyal slaves. They rarely left their court, and the young Selim grew up in an atmosphere of cautious watchfulness.

  This life had its effect on the young child. He rarely smiled and was never given to outbursts of boisterous play or laughter as other children were. By the time he was three, he had matured so rapidly in mind that he spoke not like an infant barely out of leading strings but like a boy of seven or eight He was wary of strangers, though few ever visited the Tulip Court

  Although neither his mother nor his nurses were aware of it he frequently slipped out of his quarters to visit his father’s stables or to play quietly alone in the sultan’s gardens. He was always careful not to be noticed, for although no one had told him, he instinctively understood that his life depended on his discretion.

  One day when he was six, he sat amid the branches of a tree in the imperial gardens and discovered to his surprise that he had two half-brothers. He had never seen another boy in his whole life and was very tempted to climb down and join them, but a small voice in his head warned him not to, so he remained where he was. He later learned the other boys’ identities from his half-sisters, Leila and Aiyshe, his aunt Refet’s twin daughters. They were the only children who came to play within his mother’s house.

  The older boy was ten-year-old Prince Ahmed, his father’s assumed heir. He was no taller than Selim, and fat, with olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair. His round, petulant face was marked with acne, and his manner was arrogant. He never hesitated to beat any member of his retinue who did not immediately respond to his commands, and Selim did not regret his decision to remain hidden.

  The younger boy was taller, with wavy, dark-brown hair and large blue eyes. He was solemn of manner and gravely courteous to all who served him. This was eight-year-old Prince Korkut He was so royal a young boy that even Prince Ahmed was polite when they met—which was as infrequently as Prince Korkut could manage without seeming rude.

  For over a year Selim sat in his tree and observed his brothers—each playing separately within his own retinue—for imperial princes had their own households. Why, Selim wondered, are they allowed the freedom of my grandfather’s garden, but I am not? If he spoke to his mother on this matter, she would learn of his ventures into the main part of the palace, and he would be guarded more closely than ever. Then one day as he sat in his tree, he heard a voice.

  “Why do you always hide within the branches of this tree?”

  Startled, Selim answered, ‘I do not want to be seen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my mother wishes it”

  “Who is your mother?”

  “Kiusem Kadin.”

  “Ah! You are my brother Selim!”

  Selim peered between the branches, and a smile lit his face. “And you are my brother Korkut, son of Safiye Kadin.”

  The boy beneath the tree laughed. “You are correct, little brother, and since you cannot come down, I shall come up.”

  So began the friendship between the two princes. Selim, confessing his adventures to his horrified mother, finally won her consent to allow Korkut within the Tulip Court.

  To Kiusem’s delight, Prince Korkut was an excellent influence on Selim. The older boy, like his father, was a scholar, and encouraged his younger half-brother, an indifferent student, to pursue his studies more diligently. The finest minds in the Ottoman Empire were discreetly brought to the Eski Serai to teach the boys. Selim, once he applied himself, discovered he enjoyed his studies. He was not brilliant, like his father and Korkut, but he was quite intelligent.

  When Selim was twelve, his grandfather, Sultan Mohammed the Conqueror, died, and his father put on the sword of Ayub and ascended the throne. When Selim was fourteen, Sultan Bajazet sent the boy and his mother to the city of Magnesia. There Selim learned the arts of ruling, and governed the city and its surrounding province for his father.

  Kiusem’s archenemy, Besma, had attempted to prevent the sultan from giving Selim this responsibility, claiming that Bajazet’s youngest son was an idiot and Magnesia would suffer. The Ottoman ruler thought that his second wife was merely
being vicious. He did not realize that the few occasions Besma had seen Selim had been carefully staged by Hadji Bey to make Selim appear a dunce. This was all part of the wily agha’s plan to make Kiusem’s son appear harmless and ineffectual.

  In Magnesia Selim was free to be himself, for Besma was so convinced he was useless that she sent no spies to watch him. Here the sultan’s youngest son grew from hesitant and shy adolescence to strong and sure manhood. The scholars had taught him well, and he governed fairly, with scrupulous respect for the laws of the empire and the Muslim faith.

  Hadji Bey had taught him well, also. Slowly and carefully he gathered underground support for himself and his cause. A piece of luck brought him loyalty from the Crimean Tartars when he saved the life of a visiting high chieftain. The grateful man returned home full of praise for Selim and sent him as a gift two troops of Tartar horsemen to be his personal bodyguard.

  He was now a man, and although he had been kept free of romantic entanglements longer than most Turkish princes, Hadji Bey and Kiusem decided the time had come for their serious young charge to learn the ways of women. Selim was seventeen and so well aware of his position that he did not think it odd when his mother and the agha explained to him that there must be no children as yet

  “Women and children at this time will make you vulnerable to Besma’s treachery. When we have strengthened your position with the sultan and chosen the right maidens, then Selim—and only then—may you have sons,” said the agha. “In the meantime, should you desire a woman, you have but to ask, and the most beautiful and skilled of maidens will be brought to you. They are sterile, of course, so you need not fear.”

  The prince trusted both his mother and Hadji Bey implicity, and so he obeyed. And in the capital, Besma, at first terrified by Selim’s appetite for women, chuckled with satisfaction as the time went by and no children appeared. Unaware that the maidens Selim bedded were sterile, she rejoiced to her own son, Ahmed, “Your brother’s seed is like sea water. Nothing grows in it!”

  The years passed, and shortly before Selim reached his twenty-fourth birthday, Kiusem fell ill. The agha was informed and hurried to Magnesia from Constantinople.

  Seeing Kiusem shocked the agha. She was clearly dying, and she did not deny it

  “I know, old friend. My time grows short”

  Tears sprang to his eyes, and he took her small white hand in his own slender brown one. Faintly she squeezed it “We must act now, Hadji Bey. You must obtain the sultan’s promise that Selim will be honored on his twenty-fifth birthday with the governorship of the Crimean province nearest Constantinople. And the girls, Hadji Bey. Bajazet must allow my son the pick of the maidens. No Ottoman has ever honored a son so. It will impress the people and secure my son’s future and safety. Besma will not dare to harm him if he stands high in the sultan’s esteem.”

  “It will be as you wish, my dearest lady. I will not fail you.”

  “The special ones—have you obtained them yet? They must be ready.”

  “I have not found them, my lady. I must go myself.”

  She looked worried. “There will be questions. You are the agha, not a buyer of slaves.”

  “It is because I am the agha that no one will question my actions. They may think—I cannot stop that—but no one except the sultan himself may question me, and he will not, as he trusts me above all men.”

  “Selim must be told everything now,” she said.

  “I will do it myself, my lady. The prince must comprehend the seriousness of our undertaking. He is sometimes inclined to rashness, but from now on, he must act with extra caution and extreme self-discipline.”

  The prince was called into the agha’s presence and greeted his old friend warmly. When steaming cups of coffee had been brought and the servants dismissed, the agha spoke. Selim listened quietly, his handsome face grave, as the agha outlined the plan that he and Kiusem had conceived even before the prince’s birth.

  Ahmed must not succeed his father. He was, unfortunately, too influenced by his mother, poorly educated, and depraved. Turkey could not support such a sultan.

  As for Prince Korkut, he was a good man but more a scholarly recluse than a future sultan. He was not a soldier and had no interest in women. Should he, Allah forbid, succeed his father, he would not last a month. Fortunately Prince Korkut had informed the agha that he did not wish to be sultan. He would, he said meaningfully, support the “right” man.

  Now the field was clear for Selim, said the agha. The first part of the plan was to keep him isolated and safe during his youth, to see that he was superbly educated and then given the governorship of Magnesia—the same province his father had ruled in his youth.

  Step two of the plan called for Selim’s governorship to be transferred to the Crimean province nearest Constantinople. Using Bajazet’s love for Kiusem, this had already been accomplished. Selim would leave Magnesia shortly before his twenty-fifth birthday to visit his father in the capital, and depart the day after for his new post.

  In case of emergency he would be a day’s hard ride from the city, and, more important, the sultan would have easy access to his son.

  This brought Hadji Bey to step three. Kiusem’s archrival, Besma, had never stopped her campaign to discredit Bajazet’s youngest son in order to advance the cause of her own offspring. She dared not compare the two princes’ morals, for Ahmed’s degenerate behavior was an open scandal. His mother, in hopes of ruling through her son one day, had, in order to keep him under her thumb, directed his sexual appetites in twisted directions.

  She could not compare Ahmed and Selim in the field of governorship, for the province of Magnesia was peaceful, fruitful, and well-run. Ahmed’s domain in the east on the Persian border was a constant source of trouble.

  Her only hope had been to keep Selim from his father, to fill the sultan’s ear with what poison she could, and hope for Bajazet’s death and Ahmed’s succession before the sultan learned the truth.

  Besma’s desires had suited Kiusem and the agha, for the result was that Selim enjoyed unprecedented freedom. Now, however, the time had come for the sultan to know what kind of a man his younger son had become. Moving him nearer to the capital would help to accomplish this. Setting him up with a bevy of lovely maidens from his father’s own harem would impress upon the people Bajazet’s regard for him

  Later, when sons were born, Selim’s position would be solidified—especially since Hadji Bey was quite certain that Prince Ahmed’s preference for young boys negated his chances for having sons. The agha was sure that once the sultan realized what a fine and capable man Selim was, the succession would be changed.

  Selim absorbed the agha’s words carefully. He did not tell his friend that from the time he was old enough to understand, it had been his intention to replace his dead brother on the throne of their father one day. He knew his brothers much better than they knew themselves, and he was neither a hedonistic seeker of personal pleasures like Ahmed, nor a monkish lover of learning like Korkut There had been only one man he had admired in his life, and that man had been his grandfather.

  He had been almost thirteen when the conqueror had died, and he remembered the old man vividly. Mohammed had lived in the Yeni Serai, where he could keep an eye on the construction going on about his new palace. One day he had ordered his grandsons to be brought to him. Both Ahmed and Korkut arrived with retinues befitting their imperial state, but the seven-year-old Selim came with just one attendant

  Mohammed raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. There had been wrestlers for entertainment and Ahmed boasted that he could beat any of them. The old sultan said nothing but eyed the overweight braggart with intense dislike. After that only Selim was invited to the Yeni Serai When Selim asked his grandfather why, the old man replied with an honesty that surprised even himself.

  “Only you, Selim, are worthy to learn what I have to teach.”

  “What is that grandfather?”

  “I will teach you to be a warrior—the
greatest warrior ever known. From now on, you will be taught the art of fighting by my own chosen men. Twice each week we will meet secretly, for I do not wish Besma to know of this, and you will show me what you have learned. I myself will teach you the tactics that won me so many battles—and the greatest prize of all, this jewel of a city. When I die, Turkey need not fear for her future, for you will help to protect it.”

  Six years later, Selim attended Mohammed on his deathbed. The last words spoken by Mohammed had been spoken harshly, and only Selim had heard them.

  “You—you must follow my successor!”

  Selim remembered those words. They burned In his mind like hot coals and reaffirmed his secret desire to rule. The agha’s words today pleased him, though he showed no emotion other than agreement to his plans. It was a dangerous and painfully patient game he was being asked to play, but he would enjoy it The logic and skill of tactics had always intrigued him.

  “You smile, my son,” said the agha.

  “I am thinking of the image I must create.” He laughed. “Good Prince Selim! The perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect husband and father. Allah, Hadji Bey! You ask a great deal of a rough soldier. What happens if I do not like the maidens I choose from my father’s harem? A pretty face is not a guarantee of a man’s happiness.”

  The agha smiled “When you choose, I promise you that at least three of the maidens will be to your taste. I go to seek them myself.”

  “So you think you know my tastes?”

  “Beauty, intelligence, warmth, independence, and perhaps a touch of mystery.”

  “Find me one woman with all those traits, Hadji Bey, and I shall be a happy man.”

  “I shall, my prince, and you shall.”

  On Selim’s twenty-fifth birthday, and at the sultan’s order, the entire empire from the Balkans to the borders of Persia, celebrated. Selim had arrived in Constantinople just a week before, and at his father’s order been housed in an apartment in the Yeni Serai.