SERAGLIO

by Colin Falconer

  'I shall give him what guidance I can.'

  'Good. My mistress will be most relieved to hear that.'

  After he had left, the sheyhülislam produced his tespi beads and murmured prayers of thanks and supplication. God was good, God was great. But to bring his teaching to the people and to build great mosques took money. For the greater glory of the divine a man must sometimes bend his soul a little to the winds of time.

  Chapter 44

  Stamboul

  But the sheyhülislam was not the only one to receive a visit from Abbas that day. How did I ever manage when I kept the Sultan's harem as well? he thought. Now the girls are all long gone and there are still barely hours enough in my day.

  'Sirhane,' he said. 'It has been a long time.'

  'Kislar Aghasi,' she said. She kept herself covered now, even though he had seen her naked more times than her own mother.

  He threw back the hood of his ferijde. 'I received your message,' he said. 'What is you want with me?'

  'Gülbehar sent me.'

  'I had anticipated that.' He looked around the room, the gilded ceiling, the glazed floral tiles on the walls, the pink shadow of the Aya Sofia looming through the fretted wooden grills that covered the windows. 'So this is the palace of the Abdul Sahine Pasha.'

  'He is equerry to the shahzade now.'

  'He grows in wealth and fortune.'

  'Is it good fortune to live in the house of a condemned man, Kislar Aghasi?'

  Abbas shrugged. 'There is nothing I can do about it.'

  'Gülbehar said that there is. She says I can offer you anything - anything.'

  'She is generous. In that case - what about my manhood. That is my asking price for any favour. I will not settle for less.'

  'Abbas …'

  'I have amassed wealth and power beyond any dream I had when I was a youth. But it is all useless to me. Do you understand? So what is it that Rose of Spring thinks she can offer me? And what is it that she believes I can do for her?'

  Sirhane lowered her eyes. 'Does Suleiman know of Julia?' she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  The room started to spin. Was there nothing left to believe in? 'You were her friend.'

  'You know what is at stake.'

  'What is it in this whole world that is worth doing what you have just suggested? I was the one who told you about her. I understand that you would betray me, but would you betray your best friend also?'

  'Very soon a woman will die. Perhaps Hürrem, perhaps Julia. You decide.'

  'Hürrem?'

  'You are the only one who can save us from her now.'

  'Hürrem is dust. Like every tyrant she will have her day and then she will die. You would sully your very soul just for these brief moments you have here on earth?'

  'It is a good bargain, Abbas. The death of a witch for the life of the woman you once loved.'

  'She told you?'

  'She told me everything, about how you courted her secretly in Venice, how you wanted her to escape with you to Spain. She still loves you, Abbas. She said you were the bravest man in the world.'

  'And you would still betray her to that witch? I thought you loved her.'

  'We all love ourselves more, Abbas.'

  'They have cut off my manhood but they did not cut out my heart. For the first time in many a year there is someone I feel sorry for. You make me want to vomit.'

  He wished he could see her face. The chador shook. Was she trembling or weeping? 'Do it or she dies, Abbas. Spare me your pretty speech.'

  Abbas signalled to his pages to help him rise. He spat at her feet. 'Very well, I will do it,' he said and left.

  ***

  She looks radiant, Abbas thought. She never looks as young and as lovely as when she is planning an execution. It rejuvenates her. The green velvet taplock had been pinned at a jaunty angle on her head and she wore a kaftan of pistachio velvet bordered with ermine. Pearls glistened in the insteps of her ship-ship.

  So this is my day to die, Abbas thought. Well, I have delayed it long enough. Now that it is decided I feel curiously free, even light-headed. I am glad you are happy also, My Lady. I should have hated to have cut out your little black heart when you were as sick of the world as I am.

  'Have you done as I asked?' she said.

  'I have spoken to the mufti, as you commanded. He is fully aware of what is required of him.'

  'My good, faithful Abbas.'

  'As you say, My Lady.'

  'And what shall be your reward?'

  Oh so you are going to toy with me. I had hoped you would. I have had twenty five years of impotence. Tonight I shall be a man again. 'What reward should you like to honour me with, My Lady?'

  'Your pick of the Harem perhaps?'

  Abbas smiled, acknowledging her mordant wit. 'My lady is too kind.'

  Perhaps she divined the change in him for her eyes were suddenly hard. 'You look pleased with yourself, Abbas. Perhaps you would like to share the joke with your mistress?'

  Abbas took a step towards her and his hand strayed to the jewelled dagger in the sash at his waist. Hürrem lowered her eyes, understanding his intention immediately. The guards positioned around the room were too far away, too somnolent at this routine audience, to save her now.

  He smiled. As soon as she screams, he thought, I will do it.

  But Hürrem did not scream. 'Ah my Abbas. At last.' She seemed almost … excited.

  'I have waited for this moment for so long,' he whispered.

  'And what has stopped you?'

  What has stopped me? The answer is simple. Julia. But also, I am afraid to die. Not afraid of pain - God knows I have known enough of that - and not even in love with any part of my life. I am just afraid of what is after this. I believe it does not end here, but how will God judge all I have done?

  'Are you not afraid for Julia Gonzaga?' she said.

  Abbas felt his fist tighten on the warm ivory. Do it now! Something screamed inside him. Do it now before the witch finds a way to weaken your resolve. 'Julia?'

  'On my death there is a letter I have placed in safe keeping, to be delivered to my Sultan. He will be most disappointed to discover that she still lives in Pera and is perhaps the source of rumours about his failings in the Harem.'

  Abbas felt the palace crashing about his shoulders. He froze. What if it was true? He was trapped. He could not kill her and he could not withdraw.

  Hürrem laughed. 'I would swear that your black face has almost gone quite pale!'

  Abbas swayed on his feet. Use the dagger on yourself, he thought.

  'You think I am going to punish you?' she said.

  Her eyes were aglow with pleasure. What kind of a woman was this? 'I shall kill myself first,' he said.

  'My dear Abbas, why would you do that?'

  'You have tormented me for the last time!'

  She leaned closer. 'Take your hand away from that crude instrument. Do you think I am angry because you want to kill me? Of course you do! It's only natural. Besides half Stamboul wants me dead. But you have just proved to me that no matter how much you hate me you could never harm me. It makes you the most trusted and obedient servant that I have.'

  Do it anyway, the voice inside him screamed. Do it!

  Abbas slumped to his knees. 'I am so weak,' he said.

  'Yes,' she said, 'but so very useful!'

  Topkapi Saraya

  'I have a problem that I seek your advice on. A case was brought to me in the Divan that has perplexed me greatly. I have decided to come to you for your ruling under the holy laws of the Qu'ran.'

  Suleiman paused to collect his thoughts.

  'A merchant of good position has three sons. One of them, the eldest, he favours above all the others. He has always trusted him with good salary and good favour. When he dies, the business and all his wealth will be his. However one day he discovers that his son is plotting to kill him and take over his business. He cannot wait for his own father to die. The merchant has discovered all th
ese things beyond doubt. What should that merchant do, and what sentence should lawfully be pronounced under the Sheri'at?'

  Abu Sa'ad did not blink. 'The Qu'ran is clear in such matters. The servant must die.'

  Suleiman gave a long sigh. 'And if that servant's name was Mustapha, the shahzade?'

  'Death,' Abu Sa'ad said.

  Two days later Suleiman mounted his horse by the fountain in the Third Court and left his palace with his household regiments, bound for the east. Orders had already been sent to the Agas at Amasya to bring their troops south for the march on Erzerum. Another chaush was sent with further orders for Bayezid to come from Manisa and administer government at the Topkapi in his absence.

  Suleiman knew he must hurry to reassert his authority over the army. But first he must talk to Selim.

  Chapter 45

  Konia

  The city stood in a vast and dusty wheat bowl on the Anatolian steppe, a mecca to the Osmanlis, for it was home to the monastery that contained the bones of Jalal -ud-din Rumi, the founder of the dervish order. It was also the governmental seat of Karamania, where Selim was apprenticed as second prince in succession to throne.

  Suleiman had heard rumours, whispered in the corridors of the palace and the bedesten of the city, that Hürrem's oldest son was a drunkard. The lumpish awkward youth had now become a figure of fun.

  Now, as he looked into his son's face, he knew the rumours were true. His complexion was inflamed from too much wine, the broken capillaries on his cheeks and nose like a crimson spider web. Suleiman closed his eyes and thought, for the hundredth time: this cannot be the future of the Osmanlis! Can I really give up Mustapha for this?

  Selim did not notice Suleiman's mood. He was engaged in his own personal diatribe. ' … of course Mustapha hates me, should he come to the throne I have no doubt his first act will be to send his bostanji to murder me. Can you imagine what it is like to live like this? I have no friend in all the world but you.'

  You whine like a peasant, Suleiman thought. 'You have heard the calumny against Mustapha?'

  'I do not doubt a word of it.,'

  Of course not, Suleiman thought. But then, yours is scarcely an objective point of view. 'We shall settle this at Aktepe. I have a question for you: if I were to hand Mustapha to the bostanji, you would be next to bear the yoke of the Osmanlis. Do you think you can bear such a burden, Selim?'

  Selim beamed. 'I am your son! I was born to it.' But the smile soon vanished. 'But if I am next, why did you give Manisa to Bayezid?'

  'It was expedient to do so.'

  'If I am to be shahzade I should be there.'

  God help me in my sorrow! He is like a recalcitrant child! 'All is not settled yet. We are talking of Mustapha's life here. I am only asking whether you think you can bear my burdens. I have not promised them to you.'

  Selim grew sulky. 'Yes, father.'

  He could hardly credit that this was a son of his, named after the rampaging warrior that was his own father. Yet he supposed he himself was not the butcher his own father had been. Why should we think our children will become shadows of ourselves?

  Perhaps it was his own fault for not paying him enough attention when he was a child. He had dedicated the future to Mustapha, and now it was too late to undo what had already been done. Selim had grown without direction and was lost to him.

  'So what are you going to do?' Selim asked him.

  'I don't know,' Suleiman sighed. 'I really don't know.'

  Pera

  Julia could barely contain her impatience. She watched from the window as the coach clattered to a halt in the courtyard and a figure in a purple ferijde stepped out and hurried inside. It was so long since she had seen her. She was trembling like a girl.

  Hyacinth escorted Sirhane into the room. As soon as they were alone Julia threw her arms around her and hugged her until Sirhane protested and pulled away to catch her breath.

  Julia tore the cazeta from her face. 'Take this off, I have to see you.'

  Sirhane tore off her ferijde, then took her hand and led her to the divan. 'I have missed you so,' she whispered.

  'Look at you! You still defy the years, Julia.'

  If only I could say the same, Julia thought. You look so gaunt and tired. There were dark circles under Sirhane's eyes. 'Are you well?' she asked her.

  'A little tired from the journey, that is all.'

  'It's been so long. When your messenger came I could not believe that you were really here in Stamboul.'

  Sirhane smiled weakly. "It is a long way from Amasya.'

  'Tell me all your news! What brings you here?'

  'Abdul sent me away. There has been trouble.'

  'Trouble? Is he all right?'

  'Yes but … he felt it was too dangerous for me to stay. There has been so much trouble.'

  'Are things really that bad?'

  'You have not heard?'

  'Only what Ludovici tells me. He says that Mustapha tried to make an alliance with Shahn Tamasp.'

  'That was Rüstem's doing. But now there is much worse. The Yeniçeris tried to murder the Grand Vizier in his camp on the Green River. Everyone blames Mustapha.'

  'Murder Rüstem?'

  'He escaped of course and now the Sultan thinks Mustapha wants to take away his throne, as his own father did. What can we do? My husband is loyal to the shahzade. If there should be a war …'

  'War? Is there anything we can do? If you need to hide …'

  'Hide from the Sultan? When he is king of half the world?' Sirhane threw her arms around her neck and wept. 'I am so sorry.'

  'What for?'

  But Sirhane did not answer her. Julia felt her trembling. Her crying seemed to go on forever, but finally Sirhane pulled away. 'I would never hurt you,' she said.

  'I know that.'

  Sirhane caressed her cheek. 'Just remember that, please. I would never really hurt you.'

  'I don't understand. Sirhane, you must tell me what has happened. There something else, isn't there?'

  Sirhane shook her head. 'Just hold me,' she said. 'I'll tell you later. Not now.'

  ***

  But Sirhane did not tell her. Instead they went together to the hammam and bathed, like the old days. But it was not like the old days; in the Harem Sirhane was always talking, always laughing, and she responded to Julia's merest touch. Today she was remote, lost inside her own head, and the muscles in her neck and shoulders were taut as bowstrings.

  'You are so tense,' Julia said.

  'Of course. Do you wonder at it?'

  Julia poured a little more sandalwood oil onto her hands and rubbed it into her neck and shoulders.

  'How is Ludovici?' Sirhane asked her, breaking a long silence.

  'He prospers.'

  'Is he still as attentive as he always was?'

  'Yes, he has never grown tired of me, though I wonder that he has not sent me away long ago. Lately I have even felt …'

  'Felt what?'

  'I have grown fond of him.'

  'Well that is natural. I feel the same way for my husband.'

  'He still treats you well?'

  'He has another wife now, an Armenian. She is eighteen and very beautiful. She was selected for him at the last devshirme.'

  Julia did not know what to say.

  'He still comes to my bed once a week. But of course he spends most of his nights with her. I miss him then. I never thought I would. Do you ever miss Ludovici when he is away?'

  'I miss you,' Julia said.

  'Perhaps you should learn to love him more than you do.' Sirhane twisted around. 'You are right, I am too tense. Come, I will attend to you instead.'

  Julia ached for Sirhane's touch but when she oiled her, she did it with the reserve of a gediçli. Finally Julia took her hand and brought it to her breast. But Sirhane pushed her away and whispered, 'Not yet.'

  Instead they went back to the bath and lounged in the water, Sirhane filling the silence with idle chatter about life in Amasya and inconsequentia
l memories of her life in the Harem. And it was all forced, and false. Suddenly they were strangers and Julia had no idea what was now between them or why.

  Finally they ran out of things to say to each other and Sirhane said she must go. As she was leaving Julia took her by the arm. 'You still have not told me the real reason you came to Stamboul. Please, don't go like this. There was a time we had no secrets from each other.'

  Sirhane summoned a smile. 'I told you, I am worried about what is happening in Amasya. Don't you understand, Julia? By the time the first snows arrive I could be a widow, exiled to the Persian border. What do you want me to do, laugh about it?' Sirhane pulled away and put on her ferijde.

  'Will come again?'

  'Of course.' Sirhane kissed her lightly on the lips and then pulled the cazeta over her face. 'Goodbye Julia,' she said and there was a dreadful finality to it.

  Anatolia

  Suleiman rejoined his army on the plains at Aktepe.

  The Yeniçeris were silent as he rode among them. Yet how you cheer Mustapha, he thought. He posted the seven horsetails standard outside the royal tent and sent for his chaush, told him to ride to the fortress and summon Mustapha to his presence at once.

  Then he waited, prowling the tent, cornered and afraid.

  Chapter 46

  'For pity's sake you must not go!'

  Mustapha took his mother's hand. She snatched it away, angry at this condescension.

  'The Sultan commands my presence. If I refuse he will take it as rebellion.'

  'And if you go he will accuse you of it anyway and who will there be to protect you?'

  'It is my chance to speak up against the lies said against me.'

  'If he wanted answers, why did he not come here and ask you himself? Why did he go first to Konia?'

  'I don't know. I will ask him.'

  Gülbehar jumped to her feet, turning away to hide the tears of frustration that came all too readily these days. 'Let them accuse you of what they want! There is no proof!'