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Ottoman Page 49

by Christopher Nicole


  My God, Harry thought: nothing has changed.

  “Padishah,” he said, “I am sure you concern yourself needlessly. Are you not happily reconciled with the Grand Vizier?”

  “Do not speak to me of that man,” Suleiman whispered.

  “But I see him…”

  “Stepping forth at the head of my people with all the arrogance of a sultan himself? Indeed you have seen that, Hawk Pasha. That is no less than he considers himself. Do you know that he boasts that he is wealthier than I? Do you know that he has built himself a palace, here in Istanbul, which is greater than the Seraglio? That he boasts it was his genius which won the war with Persia?”

  “You went to Persia,” Harry said, striving to understand.

  “To settle with him, yes. And what did I find? That he had suborned more than half my army — that they looked to him rather than to me. I had no choice but to dissemble. We returned here together after the Persians sued for peace, and I awarded him such a triumph as has not been seen since the days of imperial Rome. But, even so, I became daily more aware of his threat to my position. I even sent messages to Tunis, for you and Khair-ed-din to return to my rescue. By the time they reached that unhappy city your fleet had already been defeated.”

  “Dispersed by a storm, Padishah,” Harry corrected.

  “It is no matter. Your fleet was no more. For all I knew, you were no more.”

  “But I am back now, Padishah.”

  “Yes. Now listen to me, Hawk Pasha. I will release Khair-ed-din from arrest, and between you both you will build another fleet, against the Genoese. You will recruit a vast force in men, too. But you will not leave Constantinople until I give the word. Is that understood?”

  Harry understood too well. The Sultan planned civil war against his own Vizier. But he knew that Suleiman’s suspicions were ill-founded — that they were inspired only by the ambitions of Roxelana.

  *

  There was much to be done. Harry went straight away to Khair-ed-din’s palace and dismissed the royal guards.

  “Harry!” Barbarossa embraced him. “I had heard you were returned, and I told myself: my next visitor will be either Harry Hawkwood or my executioner. Or have you come in both guises?”

  “I have come to put you to work, old friend,” Harry told him. “We have much to regain.”

  Barbarossa clapped him on the shoulder. “And we will, by Allah!” Then he grew serious. “I am sorry about your wives, about Yana.”

  “You lost yours, too. And your fleet — what happened?”

  “I have never known weather like that, it was so unexpected. I have seen sudden storms in the Gulf of Lyons, those they call mistrals, but not so far south. Next time I will know what to do.”

  “Tell me about Tughluk.”

  Barbarossa sighed. “He was talented, that boy. I had given him command of a galley. It just disappeared, Harry, with all its crew. Water must have entered the oar-ports. It was the most terrible storm I have ever known.”

  “Dragut?”

  “He survived. He is here in Constantinople.”

  “That is something.”

  “But as for the women… I doubt I loved any as well as you loved that Russian girl.” He gave a great shout of laughter. “You should entreat your friend the Padishah to give you Roxelana in her place.”

  “Heaven forbid,” Harry said.

  He accompanied Barbarossa down to the shipyards and they began to consider plans for bigger and better galleys than any ever seen before, capable of riding the worst of Mediterranean storms as well as fighting Andrea Doria’s ships.

  “And of braving the Atlantic waves?” Barbarossa asked.

  “That is something we will tackle when we have dealt with Doria,” Harry promised him. “You have never seen such lands just waiting to be stripped bare.”

  He sent Diniz, whom he could trust absolutely, to arrange a private meeting with the Grand Vizier.

  And then he returned to the Hawk Palace.

  *

  “You look a different man,” Aimée said. “But you must be exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted,” he acknowledged. “And perhaps I even feel a different man.”

  “The Sultan has forgiven your defeat?”

  “It was no defeat, Aunt — but the Sultan has given me a new fleet.”

  She sighed. “When next you return, I shall be dead.”

  “It will take at least a year to build our new fleet — and besides you will live for ever. But now I have my bride to attend.”

  “Harry…” She caught his hand. “She is only a child.”

  “Why, fifteen, surely. Tressilia was no older. Neither was Yana. And you have told me you yourself were to be married to my uncle when you were but fourteen.”

  Aimée bit her lip. “That was a long time ago. And, with respect, Harry, Tressilia was a half-Turk, Yana a savage. This is a young lady.” She gave a wistful smile. “They are more sheltered in their upbringing than any you have known.”

  Harry frowned at her. “You have told her what is to happen to her?”

  “Have you been gone six months? A year? What am I supposed to have said to her in just a few hours? I have told her that, no matter what happens, you are a kind and gentle man at heart.”

  “I shall endeavour to be so.”

  “Use her gently, I beg of you. You may find you have a treasure.”

  *

  Harry strode up the stairs to his own chamber. He had not slept on this divan for two years. The last time had been with Yana in his arms.

  The slave girls bowed before him as they opened the doors. Felicity stood before the open windows, looking down at the Golden Horn and the bustle of the shipping. Undoubtedly she had seen him returning from the ferry.

  Now she turned. Aimée had dressed her in Turkish harem garb, and Harry caught his breath. Here was none of the voluptuousness of Yana which had been so irresistible; but in its place there was a virginal purity and a slenderness that was no less compelling.

  The golden curls had been vigorously brushed, and tumbled in ordered confusion around her shoulders; a pale blue fez rested awkwardly on her crown. The pale blue bolero had been pulled across her naked breasts, as far as it would extend and was now held in position by both her hands, revealing only a sliver of white flesh between. There was more white flesh below: the flatness of her girl-belly. The pantaloons, also in pale blue, allowed no more than the outline of her legs to be seen. But there was a darkness at the groin: she was a woman.

  They stared at each other, then he waved away the servants, who closed the doors behind them.

  As he moved towards her she began to curtsy. The fez slipped from her head, and she could not resist a giggle as she attempted to straighten it.

  “I have been practising,” she gasped, her cheeks scarlet.

  She then realised she had released the bolero, and hastily grabbed for it again. But Harry’s hands were there first, pushing the cloth right back to her shoulders.

  Her breasts were those of a young girl, little pointed mounds, but the more delicious for that. He touched the nipples, and watched them stiffen as a shudder ran the whole length of her body.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  She licked her lips. “I am fifteen, master.”

  He took the bolero off to expose her glowing white skin. If the wind and the sun had darkened her face, there was no mark on the rest of her body.

  He released the cord of her pantaloons and let them drop about her ankles. Again slenderness, hips as smooth as silk, buttocks firm as hillocks.

  Be gentle with her, Aimée had begged; but it had also been a warning.

  He put one arm round her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her from the floor. She reached her arm round his neck, and with a wriggle of her feet, kicked off her shoes and the trailing pantaloons.

  He wanted to shout for joy. She knew what was going to happen to her, and she was not afraid.

  But he would have to use her
as a Christian, he knew. This first time, at least.

  He laid her on the bed and stretched out beside her, kissing her mouth for the first time since in that dramatic escape from England’s shore. Her breath was sweet, her tongue surprised — and then eager.

  As he played with her breasts again, her eyes grew wide. Then he stroked her between the legs, and she began to breathe deeply.

  He dared not lie on top of so slender a form. Instead he knelt between her legs and lifted her small buttocks for the entry. Her gaze remained fixed on his, her mouth sagging. It closed with the gasp of pain as he thrust, then opened again. Her eyes did not close at all.

  Still grasping her buttocks, he remained kneeling until his passion was spent. Then he let her slide down his thighs.

  “I will teach you the art of love,” he promised her.

  She was still breathing deeply, her cheeks suffused with colour.

  “I will be pleased to learn, master,” she said quietly.

  *

  The meeting with Ibrahim appeared a normal procedure. Hawkwood was obliged to visit the Grand Vizier to obtain his signature on the vast amount of money he proposed to spend.

  Harry studied his friend. Ibrahim did not look as if he had anything on his mind.

  Harry glanced left and right, to check there was no one within earshot. He spread his list on the table between them. “Pretend to study that, and listen very carefully.”

  Ibrahim raised his eyebrows, but did as Hawkwood asked.

  “Do you remember what we discussed, oh, five or six years ago concerning Roxelana and her influence over the Sultan?”

  “Yes. I was a trifle apprehensive then, I suppose.”

  “And now you are not?”

  “That was some six years ago, and I am still Grand Vizier — still Suleiman’s closest confidant.”

  “You are his deepest enemy, so far as he is concerned.”

  Ibrahim frowned at him.

  But Harry continued, and told him of Suleiman’s fears.

  “But that is absurd,” Ibrahim protested. “I could not stop the Janissaries coupling my name with his in Persia…and, after all, I had won some victories before he appeared.”

  “That is the point. He envies your success, at every level. Even Suleiman, for all his splendour, is no more than a man. You should not splash your wealth and power around the way you do.”

  “Because I have built myself a couple of new palaces, am I a traitor? I tell you, Harry, I find this very difficult to believe.”

  “Disbelieve it at your peril.”

  “So what would you have me do? Lead a revolt and become the traitor Suleiman thinks I am? That would be a fine end to twenty years of intimacy.”

  “I would not have you lead a revolt,” Harry said. “Indeed, if you did, I would oppose you myself. But, if I were you, I would beg to be relieved of the duty of Grand Vizier, and then retire.”

  “And would that not make the Sultan more suspicious than ever? No, no, I will start to look about me and listen more. I thank you for the warning. If it is Roxelana who truly seeks to bring me down, then forewarned is forearmed. She is merely a concubine. I am the Grand Vizier.”

  Harry sighed, but there was nothing more he could do.

  *

  The next few months proved happy ones. Harry sometimes wondered if the profession of shipwright was not the one for which he had truly been designed by kismet. He spent much of every day in the docks, watching his new ships come to life. Often Barbarossa and Dragut were with him, and the three discussed the strategy they would employ against the Genoese when at last ready to put to sea.

  But he spent as much time as possible at home, for he now had an over-riding reason.

  He had not supposed he would ever be able to replace Yana, the Russian girl, but night by night Felicity became more and more important to him. Making love to her was a delight. She had to be taught everything, yet she learned with the utmost enthusiasm. He did not know if she mourned her life in England; if she did she gave no sign of it. She appeared to be totally happy, and he wished her to remain so. He watched her grow, mentally and physically day by day…and then more quickly as she became pregnant.

  “Sixteen is a trifle young to become a mother,” Aimée said anxiously. She calculated that Felicity would give birth some time the following summer.

  But the fleet was actually ready to sail by mid-March of 1536, and so Hawkwood reported to Suleiman.

  “That is splendid news,” the Sultan said. “I will hold a grand review of your troops so have them march up here to the palace. Bring with you Khair-ed-din and Dragut, and all your captains. All of your faithful captains.”

  Harry bowed in assent.

  *

  It was the end of the month when Suleiman and his pashas were ready to inspect the men of the new Ottoman navy. While Dragut led the parade, Barbarossa and Hawk Pasha accompanied the Sultan himself as he walked through the ranks of sailors and marines.

  “You will now avenge Tunis,” he told them. “You will bring great honour to your name and mine, to the names of Hawk Pasha and Khair-ed-din Pasha. And now you will feast at my expense.”

  The men, several thousand of them, gave a mighty cheer.

  Harry walked beside Ibrahim as the pashas returned to the Porte. There Suleiman seated himself on his divan, and looked around at his ministers and generals and admirals.

  “It is good,” he said. “But let me be more pleased, still.”

  Four eunuchs who had been waiting to one side stepped forward. Before any man in the room could move, two of them grasped Ibrahim’s arms while the others wrapped a bowstring round his neck and pulled tight.

  The Grand Vizier could do nothing more than gasp, and then he was dead.

  16

  The Assassin

  Ibrahim lay on the floor of the Porte, his assassins kneeling beside him. For several seconds no one in the room moved. Harry could only gaze down at the lifeless body almost at his feet.

  Suleiman stood up. “He was a traitor who sought to suborn my power. Announce his execution to the people. Tell them that the Grand Vizier’s stolen wealth will be divided amongst them. Khair-ed-din, see to your men.”

  Khair-ed-din understood the situation perfectly. He hurried into the courtyard.

  Suleiman gazed from face to face. “He was a Greek,” he said. “It was my mistake to raise him so high. His successor will be a Turk, and I will announce his name shortly.” He gazed at Harry. “Come with me, Hawk Pasha.”

  Slowly Harry moved forward. The eunuchs were dragging Ibrahim’s corpse away.

  Suleiman entered his private office and sat at his huge desk.

  “I did what had to be done, Harry.”

  “With respect, O Padishah, did he not deserve at least a formal accusation? An opportunity to defend himself?”

  “He has had that opportunity for the past five years, ever since I first began to suspect his treachery. He has never once approached me and sought to make his peace with me. He has treated me with contempt. Worse, he has divided my people. I must be seen to be Sultan, supreme above everyone within my domains. I meant what I said when I ordered his wealth to be divided amongst the poor. I have also ordered his family destroyed, as a warning to other would-be rivals to my power. Now, there is an end to it.”

  Do you really believe that? Harry wondered. Or is it all a matter of where Roxelana turns her Medusa-gaze next? He found his heartbeat quickening.

  She had begun by eliminating the most powerful subject in the empire. Now surely she would seek out the next most obviously powerful man — and did she not also have a personal grudge against Harry, since he had been unable to save her sister from a horrible death?

  And she had ordered Ibrahim’s entire family to be destroyed.

  “I understand your grief, Harry,” Suleiman continued. “I also grieve. He was a friend to both of us, and a man of considerable talent — but no man is greater than the state. Harry…there is no man I would rather h
ave take Ibrahim’s place than you.”

  “Padishah,” Harry began uneasily.

  “But it cannot be,” Suleiman added.

  Harry sighed with relief.

  “I meant what I have said to my pashas: the new Grand Vizier must be one of them.”

  “That is as it should be, Padishah. Besides, I am a simple soldier and sailor. I crave only your permission to take my fleet to sea and seek out the Genoese.”

  Suleiman nodded. “I give you that permission — for one campaign. Restore the glory of my name in the Mediterranean, Hawk Pasha, and then return here. I will seat you on my right hand, as my general-in-chief of both land and sea. Together we will campaign — as my father did with yours — and together we will take Vienna.”

  Harry bowed.

  ***

  He told Barbarossa to prepare the fleet for sea. The seamen had not after all been needed to overawe the Janissaries, who had accepted the death of the Grand Vizier with indifference. But Harry himself could have told the Sultan that would be the case; for the conspiracy’ had all been in Suleiman’s mind, planted there by that Russian witch from the steppes.

  Now it was time for haste before she started plotting mischief again. He hurried home to Hawk Palace.

  Aimée had already heard the news, and the official pronouncement that Ibrahim had been discovered plotting a rebellion.

  “How incredibly foolish can one be?” she asked wonderingly. “He had everything — and just to throw it away.”

  As Harry told her the truth of the matter, she listened to him with an ashen face.

  “If that is true,” she said when he had finished, “then no man is safe here.”

  “And no woman, either, if she can be used to hit at the man. Aunt, my fleet sails within twenty-four hours. I wish you and Felicity to be on it.”

  “Go to sea after all these years? I doubt I can do that. And Felicity with your child in her belly? You cannot take the risk, Harry.”

  “Nor can I take the risk of leaving you here. I swear to you that where that woman sends her fingers seeking, all is lost. Ibrahim’s entire household is now destroyed.”

 

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