"Calm yourself, Red One! I brought a man here? Into Selim Pasha's harem? Do you think I desire close acquaintance with my Lord Pasha's torturer?"
"Stop lying, Ayhan! I know what is a dream and what's not."
"Do you? It's hard to tell sometimes, especially after meals full of the finest white poppy."
"Poppy? Why? That is medicine for pain." Aunt Teresina had told Caterina about the poppy plant and that it should be used sparingly, for great pain only, for the drug "fastens itself upon the user like a leech." All too soon, her Aunt had cautioned, an unending desire for larger and larger doses would overwhelm the life of the strongest willed person.
"Poppy is also for pleasure and for the sake of interesting dreams. You will become most familiar with it in the seraglio."
"Why are you giving me poppy? And why are you lying? Tell me right now why that traitor was here."
"Still giving orders? Perhaps I shall let Sulmah hurt you a little. He's been begging to for weeks. He promises he won't leave any marks."
"I'll stop eating."
Ayhan stared at Cat for a long moment and then heaved an exasperated sigh.
"You won't be able to starve yourself. Life is too strong in you. And why do you object to such a treat anyway? It makes time pass pleasantly."
"It enslaves."
"You are already enslaved. Foolish one! Enjoy the pleasures of your new life. The poppy will help you forget the past, the past you still weep for, that world you will never live in again. Besides, you have too many muscles. They make you too restless to settle down here properly. You need to sleep more, to gain weight. You are far too thin."
"I won't poison myself with poppy." It was, Cat knew, not the cleverest thing to say, but she couldn't stop herself.
"Such stubbornness! Such pride! Too much of the carrot and not enough of the stick, I think," Ayhan grumbled. "But I am ordered not to let the eunuchs amuse themselves with you. Your new Lord says," she added with gleeful menace, "he's looking forward to instructing you in submission himself."
"The Pasha?"
"The Pasha, indeed!" Ayhan sniffed. "No, skinny barbarian, praise Allah, you won't trouble me much longer."
"What?"
"A friend of the Pasha wants you and the Lady Mother fears ..."
"What? Someone else is to have me? Who?"
"You shall be given to Ban Nijaz. Now, are you any the wiser?" Ayhan had on a look which meant there was not another word on that subject to be got from her. Pleased that she had frightened Caterina, she turned on her heel and went out, locking the door.
The next afternoon, Ayhan unlocked the door and said, "Prepare yourself, Red Mare. You are to come with me and see what happens to women who do not please their men."
Ayhan's evil smirk did not bode well, and Caterina set about veiling herself, feeling the sharp prick of fear. She put on the yashmak, extinguishing the flame of her red hair beneath it and making certain she had brought the fabric tightly against the bridge of her nose. When Ayhan was giving instruction, she'd taught that if a woman showed her nose, it was the advertisement of a prostitute.
After she was ready Sulmah appeared and he and Ayhan accompanied her along corridors, unlocking doors that led in a direction she'd never traveled before. As they approached the stairs, she found herself walking among a crowd of veiled women of the seraglio. Most kept their eyes down, and Caterina could sense the tension. Beneath the scented bodies, she could also smell perspiration, and knew that the co-wives must have all been summoned to see whatever horror was planned.
As a slave held aside a curtain, and they entered into a latticed gallery overlooking a courtyard and began to settle onto cushions, carefully attentive to rank. Some of the women, despite their elaborate veiling, she thought she recognized from the baths. One pair, she'd often thought, with large, expressive dark eyes and harmonious pale foreheads, might have been sisters. Like bright birds, they all settled and sat unnaturally still, not a whisper to be heard among them. It seemed that they were all equally anxious, even the tall black kadin, who was seated first among them.
Finally, a door opened, a line of men entered the courtyard below. They too settled quietly, ranks of what appeared to Caterina to be gentlemen and house servants. Last of all came the Pasha, a burly middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard. She thought that even if he were stripped of all his attendants and all his silks and jewels, he could have yet passed for a prosperous German knight. There was assurance and power in his movements.
"Look upon the Master of this city and tremble." Ayhan leaned close to whisper. "And there are the Pasha's own eunuchs, who are men of great power." These men were white, and stood proudly with swords in their belts. They looked far more muscular and dangerous than the ordinary castrati. Ayhan had said that white eunuchs protected the Pasha and his sons. One of the gentlemen who had entered earlier—older, with a long lean presence, silver hair, sallow skin and a great hook nose—approached the Pasha and swept him a low bow. Caterina noted that he too was followed by eunuchs, and how his hands and turban glittered with jewels.
"Faik Pasha," Ayhan murmured. "A close friend of our Lord."
Next, four more eunuchs emerged from the corridors, black like Sulmah. Between each pair, pale arms tied with silken cords, walked a veiled woman. The odalisque who sat beside Caterina gasped as some formal proceeding conducted rapidly in their language began below. Caterina could catch a stray word here and there but not enough to make any sense of it.
At the end, one of the bound women was brusquely unveiled and pushed to her knees before the Pasha. While Caterina watched in horror, the largest black eunuch, the one who had examined her for imperfections on her first day, stepped forward and placed a silken cord around the woman's neck. Without any further preamble, he strangled her.
It seemed to take forever for the awful struggling, the white hands clawing to disengage the cord, to finally cease. When all movement stopped, her limp form was allowed to fall onto the colorful mosaics.
From the odalisque nearby a single sob escaped. When Cat turned to look at her, she saw a black teary streak running from one kohl lined eye.
Caterina had never witnessed an execution—not even a hanging in Passau. The whole scene was perfectly horrible, most especially the supreme passivity of the victim, whom she'd recognized as one of the gay beautiful strollers she'd watched daily in the courtyard.
"What—?"
"Later!" Ayhan delivered one of her cautions in the form of a fierce pinch.
The body was carried away by the same servants who had walked her in. The remaining eunuchs hauled the other woman onto her feet and up to the dais. Caterina tensed, fearing she was to witness another execution.
The captive now faced the reclining pashas. For a moment, Caterina wondered if Selim would strangle this one himself.
With a smile, as if nothing unpleasant had just happened, he drew the woman down to kneel before his friend, and unfastened her veil. Cat saw the woman's face, the pale flesh and translucent skin baby-like. She had often seen this handsome concubine walking arm-in-arm with the dead woman.
Faik Pasha put a hand under the woman's chin, turned her face from side to side. The kohl with which she had lined her gray eyes now ran down her cheeks. Pasha Selim turned and spoke to his friend. The words "gift" and "pleasure" were two that Cat recognized. Then two strange blacks, ones that Cat had never seen before, entered and threw a long black federage over the woman's clothes and led her away. Next, the two pashas rose. Arm in arm, they followed them out.
Cat thought this would end the awful ceremony, but then something unexpected happened. The curtain at the end of the gallery parted, revealing that kadins had been seated on the other side. From their midst, a tall woman appeared. On every side concubines and slaves knelt, foreheads to the floor.
"Down!" Ayhan hissed. "It is the Lady Mother!"
Although curious, Cat was too frightened not to obey. The alarm on every side was palpable.
*
* *
"Leave us at once!"
This was followed by more words Caterina did not understand, although she thought she heard the words "Ayhan" and the scornful "Red Mare." Ayhan put a restraining hand on her arm while, in a hiss of silks, the others crawled away backwards, slipping behind the far curtain.
From her position face down, Caterina heard the great lady rustle onto a low couch, the one which the black kadin had earlier occupied. To her great surprise she heard the woman speak in heavily accented German.
"You may sit and look at me." The Lady Mother struck Caterina's shoulder with a fan.
When she obeyed, a long fingered hand covered with jewels reached to draw the veil away from Caterina's face. Next, to her even greater surprise, the Lady Mother unveiled, revealing white teeth, a generous painted mouth, alabaster skin and moon-shaped black brows. Her forehead was decorated with a glittering band of gold coins and jewels; her black eyes flashed with an icy intelligence. The sight of that gorgeous skin and black eyes reminded Cat of a French noblewoman she'd once met in Passau.
"You are pretty, but far too tall."
"I, ah—thank-you, Lady Mother."
"You have so many freckles! That is not to the Pasha's taste."
Cat didn't know what to reply to that, so she humbly lowered her head.
"You also have too many muscles." The great lady glanced away to her attendants then laughed, and they obediently laughed with her, although they certainly had no idea what she'd said. "Ayhan says you are clever, but far too stubborn, and that is not a good—trait—in a woman. You saw today what happens to those who dare to put themselves before the will of their Lord and Master. Do you understand what happened here today, to the Odalisque Nukhat?"
"It was an execution, My Lady, a show of force."
"Not tactful, are you? Where you will go, the quality may be tolerated. As for the concubine Nukhat and the concubine Leyla, well—Ayhan will explain why one was mercifully allowed to live while the other paid the price for disobedience. Let it teach you the power of my son, who gives life or death as it pleases him. Now," she added after a pause, "you may kiss my robe and depart like the others."
"Am I not to stay here, Lady Mother?" It had suddenly occurred to Caterina that she might dare a question.
"Do you think, Red Jadi, that I would allow such as you to stay?" Abruptly, the older woman was angry. Her black eyes flashed. "Today two troublemakers have been dealt with, so why should a new one stay? You will be given, as Leyla was, to one who has a taste for the unusual—to a man who desires a red freckled woman as big as a horse. Now, GO!"
She threw her fan at Cat's head. Reflexively, Cat ducked. With Ayhan frantically tugging her, she crawled away as fast as she could, sliding at last beneath the curtain.
They scrambled to their feet and hurried away along the corridor and down the stairs. Ayhan pinched her arm and hissed, "Are you mad? You could be beaten for asking the Lady Mother a question! She asks and you answer! Otherwise, do not speak!"
"Ayhan, when am I to leave here?" It had occurred to her that any transfer would provide some chance for escape.
She had to know! And—what unusual tastes? The implied threat hung over her head like a sword.
"No! I know nothing! Now, be silent until we reach your room!"
* * *
"Is that how Muslims treat their wives?" She couldn't stop herself from speaking as soon as she and Ayhan cleared the door of her room. The image of the dying woman, so lovely, twisting, shuddering, contorted in the grip of those strong black hands filled her mind.
Ayhan stared for a moment and then laughed.
"Do you still understand nothing? Leyla was an odalisque, promoted to the Pasha's bed and the rank of concubine. Nekhut was only a slave, another odalisque, like you. The Lord does what he wants with slaves. He sells them, kills them, whatever is his pleasure. Leyla was infatuated with her slave and it offended our Pasha. Besides, that Nekhut was a troublemaker, creating jealousy with her viper tongue. Wherever there was quarreling among the wives or concubines, she was at the bottom of it. She was so beautiful and attentive; all the kadins wanted her." Ayhan paused, reflecting upon the cautionary tale she was about to deliver.
"Did she not—know her—place?" Cat had a pang of guilt remembering what she'd done to Josefa. Although I sometimes felt like it, I didn't go so far as to strangle her, she thought, but I acted judge and jury and exiled her from her family and her childhood home...
"When Pakize Kadin found she did not satisfy, she gave her, as a slight, to Leyla, who was a mere concubine. At first, Nekhut was content, but it never lasted with her. I even heard, although I could not believe it, that Leyla tried to avoid her turn in the Pasha's bed. Then, last week, Nekhut was caught trying to sell at brooch to one of the bundle women."
"For a brooch—she was strangled before her beloved friend?"
"More than a friend, foolish child. Listen to me! Leyla was fortunate that Faik Pasha liked what he saw when she was unveiled. "
"She is now his slave?"
"She was a slave here; she is a slave in Faik Pasha's house. Call yourself kadin, odalisque or concubine, there is no change, except in masters. It is said Faik Pasha indulges tastes for things which the Koran forbids, but it is not for me to express an opinion upon any great man."
"She just stood there—" Cat couldn't get it out of her head.
She would have fought them to her last breath!
"It was a quick death. In the Grand Seraglio, she would have been sewn in a sack and tossed into the Bosphorus for insulting her Lord and Master—her lady love with her! It was Kismet, written on her forehead from the day she was born. Nekhut accepted her death because she knew there was no escape, just—" Ayhan paused for effect, "as you have been delivered captive to the Lord Pasha. Accept your destiny, Red Mare. You can no more change it than you can turn back a wave of the sea."
Having made the point, Ayhan turned back to the door. Caterina, at her usual station, the single window that looked down onto the garden courtyard, felt tears rise. Not wanting her guardian to see, she looked away.
No weakness! Show no weakness!
Ayhan sighed with exasperation and with a final backward glance, knocked. Sulmah, eternally outside, opened. Suddenly, Cat knew she had not answered the most important question.
"Ayhan! What is "Jadi?"
Although she'd veiled herself, Cat knew by the way she turned that Ayhan had on one of her malevolent smiles.
"It means "witch," Red Mare. The Lady Mother believes you are a witch, although I have seen nothing—and believe me, I have watched. Why else do you think you are kept in a room by yourself like a kadin, instead of being kept in the common room of odalisques, sleeping and eating with the others? Just remember, with us as with you, the punishment for a witch is burning."
With that chilling pronouncement complete, she marched through the door. Sulmah, baring his sharp white teeth, grinned as he closed the door.
Chapter Nineteen
That night, despairing, Cat took the blade out, did the exercise and wondered if she had the strength to kill herself. She'd ended weeping in frustration at what she was beginning to believe was a fatal weakness. She just couldn't do it.
She thought, as she often did, of Goran, but this time not only of his unnecessary death and of her guilt. Now she remembered his training, his will to survive, his will to be a man other men feared—even as he was, with one leg. If she was to be given to this "Ban Nijaz" there would be a transfer, a moment when she would be outside this fortress, a time she would have to—somehow—escape or die trying.
* * *
A scrape of a key in the lock brought her rushing back to consciousness and she sat bolt upright. Her hand flew to the locket. Had the fatal moment arrived?
Was hers to be the life of a slave, to be broken, emptied of will, used?
But the open door revealed a slender erect figure, one that was all too familiar. A rolled rug was under his arm. He whispered
, "Keep silent!"
Caterina, hand on the locket, stared, wondering if she was again drugged. She had eaten very little but bread since she'd learned what sauces might contain.
Had she, perhaps, eaten enough to be seeing—this?
With a toss, Rossman unrolled the carpet.
"A rug the housekeeper rejected. I'm going to carry you inside of it. I'll put you in a cart and we'll drive away. Put on your slippers, and then let me roll you up."
"What kind of trick is this, traitor? Who let you in?"
"Hush. No trick, Lady. I swear. They had to trust me, or they'd never have given me the freedom I needed to send a message. Three days ride from this place, your husband will meet you."
Caterina's heart soared like a hunted bird. Nevertheless, she hesitated. In the last weeks she'd heard many, many stories of intrigue and betrayal.
"You're their man. You betrayed me. Is it your intention now to get me killed?"
"I have never served those pigs. I saved you, saved you from the soldiers, saved you from the marketplace, by convincing them to bring you here. Now come. I have paid the bribes. It's now or never."
"With what have you paid?" Catherina spoke the words while wondering, "Now what am I being talked into—Herr Rossmann or whoever you are today?"
"I have money here, in the street of the Jews."
"And you have used it for me?"
"Your husband and I are more than master and servant, Lady. We are friends."
It was a chance, a thin one, perhaps, but it was the first she'd seen in a terrifying month.
"In three days you will see your husband. This I promise. Now, put on your slippers and this." A feradge was tossed at her and a peremptory gesture was made towards the chamber pot which peeped out from under the bed. "And pee. I know women."
In the dim light of the night lamp, Cat found her slippers, then squatted and obediently tried to do as he said. After throwing the black cloak of the feradge over what she was wearing, she groped her way to the carpet. It was new, smelling of dye.
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