“Two days, Highness. I rode hard,” was the reply.
“Do you know if the sultan still lives?” Amir asked.
The messenger shook his head. “He was not in Istanbul, Highness, but had crossed over to Bursa and begun his spring campaign.”
“Then who sent you?” Amir wanted to know.
“I do not know, Highness. I was simply dispatched from the palace,” was the reply.
“This is not good. Not good at all,” Diya al Din murmured softly.
“Hush!” Maysun hissed at the eunuch.
Realizing that the messenger was just that, and knew nothing more, the prince sent him to the kitchens to be fed. There was no reply necessary to the information he had just received. “Go and eat. Rest the night before returning to Istanbul,” he told the man.
The messenger arose, bowed, and went off. Amir read once again the parchment he had received. Azura slipped from an alcove where she had been standing and went to her husband. She looked up at him questioningly, a gentle hand on his arm.
“Go and find the others,” he instructed her, “and tell Diya al Din to gather the household. I will speak with them all.”
While he spoke, those hidden at the spy hole hurried off to be where they should be. Azura came into the harem and called to her two companions. “I know no more than you do,” she said. “Come, and let us learn what the message brought to our husband said.”
“What message?” Shahdi asked innocently.
Azura laughed. “Do not dissemble with me, Shahdi. I found that spy hole weeks ago. Florentine homes tend to have them, and I recognized the difference in the texture of the wall,” she told them. “And I heard you. Even using his softest voice, Diya al Din is recognizable. How did you know the spy hole was there?”
Maysun chuckled at the chagrined look on Shahdi’s face, but said nothing.
“There was nothing to do all those years our husband was away. I know this little palace inside and out. Probably better than anyone,” Shahdi admitted.
Together the three women joined their husband and the gathered household in the salon used for visitors.
“I have received a message from Istanbul,” Amir began. “The sultan had only just begun his spring campaign when he took seriously ill. I cannot tell you if he yet lives, or has passed into the next life. My uncle, Prince Bayezit, was with him. I expect we will hear something further in the coming days.”
A low moaning arose from the house slaves, and even the two chief eunuchs looked distressed by what they had just heard.
“There is nothing to fear,” Prince Amir assured them. “Go now about your duties. Diya al Din, see that a watch is set on the road both day and night. I want no more surprise visitors.” He turned to his women. “Come,” he said and left the room, returning with them to the harem quarters, where he sat down in the women’s dayroom, inviting them to join him. He would elucidate further in private with them.
Maysun told the slaves to bring mint tea and sweet cakes. When they had, she dismissed them, asking Agata to make certain they went. Shahdi took Amir’s small turban from his head while Azura settled the pillows about and around him. The refreshments came and finally Amir spoke to them.
“If he dies there will be a struggle for the succession,” he told them. “My uncle will win, for while my father is the better tactician, the Janissaries are on my uncle’s side. He knows how to delegate authority far better than my father, who is too modern a man and looks to the West. My uncle, while forward-thinking, is a traditionalist. The Janissaries prefer tradition, like campaigning in the spring.”
“You will have to tread lightly,” Maysun warned.
“What if your uncle sends his gardeners to you?” Shahdi asked.
“I do not believe he will, since I have no intention of supporting my father,” Amir replied. “Bayezit is a fair man and he knows me well.”
“He has three living sons,” Maysun reminded Amir.
“From three different mothers, and of the three only my cousin Selim is suited to rule. Ahmed enjoys life too much, and Korkut is a scholar.”
“Selim is the youngest,” Shahdi noted.
“If my grandfather has died, it is my uncle who will rule. His sons will have to wait their turn,” Amir said, “and Selim will be vigilant, I am certain.”
“You are the eldest of Mehmet’s grandsons,” Maysun pointed out.
“And the least interested in either ruling or fighting, as is well known by all,” he told her. “I am not considered fit to rule. My mother learned the way of the harem quickly, and knew how to help a son survive. All who are important are aware that Prince Jem’s son is a disappointment to him, giving his unquestioned loyalty to the sultan first, and preferring to dabble in carpets and antiquities, not warfare and power. I have been called the un-Ottoman,” he said with a small smile.
It was then that Azura spoke up. “You cannot know what your uncle will do, my lord, no matter his past friendship with you. You must be on your guard, at least for the interim. We need to plan an escape should we have no other choice.”
They looked at her, surprised.
“Do you understand the situation, then, Azura?” Shahdi asked her.
“I am Florentine,” Azura answered her. “Deception is in our blood where matters of survival or profit are concerned. I understand very well what is happening. I did not defy my family to become Amir’s wife only to lose him.” She turned to him. “We must prepare for whatever is to happen, my lord.”
“The Moonlight Serai is not a castle. It is a pleasure palace, and as such it provides us no real defenses, as a castle might,” he explained to her.
“Then we should go,” Azura said.
“No,” he responded. “To flee would be to proclaim I was guilty of some crime. I will not do that. I will trust in my uncle’s goodwill. Someone in my grandfather’s palace sent to warn me of the changes that might take place. I will remain and show my loyalty to the new sultan, whoever he may be—if indeed my grandfather is dead.”
Still, he made certain that Diya al Din posted slaves on the hills to give them advance warning of any visitors.
They heard nothing for the next few weeks. Spring moved into early summer.
Finally, late one June morning, the watchers on the hills surrounding the Moonlight Serai began signaling from one to another and finally to the little palace itself that a large party of riders was approaching. Amir sent word to his wives, and then they waited—Amir in his own quarters, the three women in theirs.
“It will be the Janissaries,” Maysun said, and Shahdi nodded.
“Why are you so afraid of these Janissaries?” Azura asked. “You speak of them as if they were the devil’s own soldiers.”
“They are!” Shahdi replied.
“The Janissaries are the young sons of Christians taken in war,” Maysun explained. “They are then cosseted and cared for with great kindness, converted to Islam, and finally trained in the fiercest warfare and taught total loyalty to the sultan. Whomever the Janissaries follow will be sultan. If truth be told, the Conqueror preferred Jem among his sons because of his warlike proclivities, despite the fact that the prince was always rebelling against his father. But the Janissaries lean towards Bayezit, for he embodies the old traditions of the Ottomans. It is likely the Janissaries approaching this palace have been sent by Bayezit to either ascertain our husband’s position in the succession or kill us all.”
For this she had fled Florence, fled Venice, given up her family? To die at the hands of strangers in some stupid war over a succession? Azura felt fear filling her. Angrily she forced it back down. “We are not going to die,” she said.
“No,” Shahdi replied. “With luck, after we are all raped, we’ll be given to some officer or sold to add coinage to the Janissaries’ already fat coffers.”
Maysun gave a little sob.
“Stop it, both of you!” Azura said. “No one is going to die today. What a pair of silly ewe sheep you two are. I am going to the spy hole in our husband’s apartment to learn what is happening. Don’t tell Ali Farid if you can find him. I expect he has hidden himself away by now. Agata, come with me!”
The two women hurried from the harem apartments, making their way quickly to Prince Amir’s quarters. The corridors of the little palace were empty and quiet, for all but the bravest among the slaves would have hidden themselves by now. Quietly Azura and Agata secreted themselves within the narrow confines of the spy hole. Amir was pacing his antechamber with slow, measured steps. He was dressed soberly in a dark blue silk robe trimmed with silver embroidery. His head was covered by a small matching turban. Azura worried that he might look too regal.
They heard the sound of booted feet in the corridor. Agata reached out to clutch at her mistress’s sleeve. Azura stared intently through the spy hole, her eyes meeting those of Amir. He knew she was there. The large double doors to the prince’s apartment were flung open by two frightened slaves who nonetheless had remained. Diya al Din was with them. He was ashen in color but he too had stayed.
“My lord prince,” the head eunuch spoke. “You have visitors.”
A Janissary captain stepped forward. He bowed respectfully. “Prince Amir, I am Captain Mahmud, sent by your uncle, Sultan Bayezit,” he began.
“Is my grandfather dead?” Amir asked the captain.
“The Conqueror died on the fourth of May at the hour of afternoon prayer,” Captain Mahmud said.
Amir briefly closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer. When he opened his eyes again he looked directly at the Janissary. “How may I serve the sultan?” he asked the man before him.
“I have no instructions other than to deliver my message to you, Highness,” was the reply. Captain Mahmud understood the delicate position of this Ottoman prince.
The prince turned briefly to Diya al Din. “See that the captain’s men are well fed, and their horses taken care of,” Amir instructed the head of his household staff.
The eunuch bowed. “At once, my prince,” he replied.
Amir now turned his attention back to the Janissary. “I am grateful that my uncle thought to send me word,” he said.
Captain Mahmud’s lips twitched with amusement but he answered politely, “And I am grateful for your hospitality, as my men will be. We will, however, begin our return to the capital as soon as they have eaten and the horses have been taken care of by your slaves.”
“My wives will be relieved,” Amir responded with a grin. “The approach of your troop frightened them.”
“I hope the children were not afraid,” Captain Mahmud said.
“There are no children,” Amir replied. “But come and join me in some refreshment.” He clapped his hands, and to his relief his slaves hurried in with sweet, cold fruit sherbets and a light meal of roasted chicken, saffron rice, and warm flat bread with a dish of yogurt mixed with dill and cucumbers for dipping.
The two men sat companionably upon the cushions about a small ebony-and-ivory-inlaid table.
“Women with children tend to give all their attention to their offspring,” Captain Mahmud noted. “Women without children give all their attention to their lord and master. That is a good thing, eh, Highness?” And he chuckled.
Amir nodded. “I must admit my wives spoil me terribly, and I feel no lack at being childless,” he said. Then he leaned forward, dipping a piece of bread in the sauce, putting it in his mouth, and chewing it thoughtfully. “Tell me what is happening, Captain. I cannot believe my father has taken my uncle’s decision either lightly or easily.”
Captain Mahmud put a piece of chicken in his mouth and scooped up some rice. “No,” he said, then swallowed. “Your uncle managed to reach Istanbul first, where we had already taken control of the city for him.”
“My grandfather’s Grand Vizier favored my father,” Amir remarked.
“We executed him before the new sultan arrived in the city, and also intercepted and executed his emissaries to Prince Jem,” Captain Mahmud said.
All but one, Amir thought, realizing now who had sent the messenger to him warning him of the changes to come. “And my father?” he asked.
“Is rousing the Turcoman tribes to fight for supremacy in this quarrel,” the Janissary captain said. “I must admit to admiring Prince Jem’s fiery spirit, Highness, but he will not prevail.”
“No,” Amir said, “he will not. Does my uncle wish me to return to Istanbul with you?”
“No, no, that is not necessary, Highness. You are content here in your little palace, and the sultan knows he has your complete and total loyalty,” Captain Mahmud replied, smiling toothily.
“Indeed, the sultan does have my complete loyalty,” Amir responded.
“Then there is nothing more to say,” Captain Mahmud answered.
As he had ceased eating, a slave brought a bowl of rose water and a linen napkin for his hands. The Janissary washed the grease and other food residue from his fingers, and dried them. Amir did the same. Then both men rose as Diya al Din came to tell his master that the Janissary troop had been fed and their mounts cared for, and were now ready to depart.
“Let me escort you to your horse,” Amir said. “Please convey to my uncle, the sultan, my grateful thanks for sending me word of what is transpiring. He has honored my house.” The prince bowed to Captain Mahmud, who bowed in return before mounting his animal. Amir stood politely as the Janissary troop, in their distinctive red and green uniforms upon their brown horses, wheeled about and galloped off. “Make certain they go,” the prince instructed his head eunuch. “Send to the watchers on the hillsides to be certain. Tell them they are to remain at their posts until I instruct them otherwise.”
“At once, Highness,” Diya al Din said.
“Then gather the slaves so I may tell them what they should know,” Amir told the eunuch before returning back into his home and going to the harem quarters, where his women awaited him anxiously.
Azura came immediately to him, and his arms wrapped about her briefly. “I listened,” she said.
“I know,” he answered, then drew her down onto the cushions with the others. “Sultan Mehmet is no more,” he told them. “My uncle has seized the throne, and is now Sultan Bayezit. My father is already fighting him, but I believe we are safe. My uncle knows I will not join my father. I have no soldiers or adherents to trouble the sultan. There are no heirs of my body. I am no threat to Bayezit.”
“Then why did he find it necessary to send a full troop of Janissaries to tell you of your grandfather’s passing?” the suspicious Shahdi wanted to know.
“My uncle was displaying his newfound power,” Amir replied with a chuckle. “He knows my home is not defendable. He was showing me his authority over us.”
“Are the Janissaries really gone?” Azura asked.
“I believe so, but the watchers on our hills will tell us if they have not returned. From now on I shall keep a watch so that we will not be taken unawares.”
“What will happen if your father does not cease his strife?” Maysun wanted to know. “Will the sultan punish us?”
“My uncle is a patient man, more like his grandfather Sultan Murad,” Amir answered his first wife. He could see his women were frightened by this new turn of events, and it disturbed him that they should be so. “The sultan will find a way to quiet my father’s ambitions,” he assured them.
But Prince Jem was a determined man. Where Bayezit was more serious, patient, and contemplative, his brother was a more romantic figure, a brilliant soldier, and oddly an extremely talented poet. Bayezit held to the great traditions of the Ottoman, which was why the Janissaries favored him so greatly. Jem, however, looked
to Western Europe and change. The Janissaries did not want change.
Jem raised a force of Turcoman warriors and captured the city of Bursa, declaring himself sultan. He reigned supreme for almost three weeks. He offered to split the empire with Bayezit. Jem would rule in Asia and Bayezit in Europe. The sultan in Istanbul instead appointed the great Janissary hero, Gedik Ahmed Pasha, to lead his troops against Prince Jem. Bayezit was the first of the Ottoman sultans not to lead his own soldiers, but to instead send a competent commander. Twice, Jem was defeated, but Gedik Pasha could not capture him, and Jem was finally driven into exile.
But even in exile, he agitated resentments against his brother. Amir’s trading vessels brought him word of his father’s travels as he escaped. Jem moved through Jerusalem to Cairo, where he sought sanctuary with the Mamluk sultan, Kait Bey. He made a holy pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, then returned to Ottoman territory to once more attempt to wrest the throne from his brother. This time, however, his army deserted him before the gates of the city of Angora. Jem fled south to the Cilicia and the Mediterranean.
Still, the sultan tried to appease his brother, offering him a generous income. “The empire is a bride that cannot be shared between two rivals,” he told Jem. Bayezit was saddened when his sibling, refusing to understand, sought refuge with the Knights Hospitaliers on the island of Rhodes. Of course he was received with honor, the Christians delighted to have the sultan’s brother in their midst to use as a pawn. The sultan then signed a treaty with the order’s Grand Master paying the knights forty-five thousand pieces of gold each year Prince Jem remained in their care.
Word of all of this filtered back to Prince Amir in bits and pieces. It came via his own trading ship captains, who were instructed to learn all they could of Prince Jem’s activities. Amir did not intend being taken unawares if he could avoid it. He was not of a mind to suffer for his father’s rebellions. His uncle was being very patient, but eventually the sultan would lose his patience. He had done everything to pacify his brother, but Jem refused to be mollified.
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