Bianca

by Small Bertrice

  “The Russians call this city Tsarigrad, which means ‘Caesar’s City,’” Amir told her. “The Northmen who come call it Mickle Garth, which means ‘Mighty Town.’”

  “It’s amazing to behold, my lord,” she told him. “Will we live here?”

  “No. I will want my grandfather to know we have returned safely, but then we must make a three-day trip to my home. As I have told you, it is on the Black Sea. We will continue on this vessel, and while we are here you will remain aboard. It is unlikely the sultan will want to see you, beloved. If asked, he must appear ignorant of your and my actions. Venice is an important trading partner for us.”

  “Men!” Agata snorted when he had gone. “I will wager the doge sent no one after you, mistress. Christian and infidel will cry religion when it suits them to do so, but neither will permit any interference between them with regards to their trade.”

  Azura laughed. “You are correct,” she agreed, but as she spoke she was watching Amir as he left the ship and mounted a great white stallion that had been brought for him to ride from the docks to his grandfather’s palace. A coal black man, bare-chested and garbed in cloth-of-gold pantaloons, held the beast, which was beautifully caparisoned in a fine red leather saddle and a bridle of silver. There were six Janissaries who surrounded her prince as soon as he was mounted, and they rode off.

  Azura watched him go, thinking that in three more days they would be at the palazzo she would now call home. No, not palazzo. Serai. The Moonlight Serai. Amir had been teaching her Turkish, and although she had never before spoken any language but her own, she found she was picking it up surprisingly easily. It would allow her to speak with his other two wives, which was important to making friendships with them.

  Agata was not having as easy a time, however. “It twists my tongue,” she complained, but she nonetheless struggled on, discovering to her surprise that she understood more of the language when it was spoken than she herself could speak. That, she realized, could prove useful to her and to her mistress. If the new household into which they were being fitted thought she could not understand them, Agata could learn more information that might help them. She explained this to her mistress.

  “That is very clever, Agata,” Azura told her. “Amir tells me that his two wives are ready and eager to welcome me, but I am no fool. I cannot be certain of that until I know them. Their servants will talk in front of you, and you will be able to keep me informed. I shall be the third wife, Amir says, but first in his heart.”

  “These infidels are permitted four wives, I have learned,” Agata said. “I do not deny he loves you, mistress, but you will have to work hard to keep his favor.”

  Azura nodded. “I know,” she said. “I have said nothing before, but I knew this before I decided to come with him, Agata. I knew back at Luce Stellare that if I followed him, I would have to share him with the others. But I have loved him almost from the first moment we met. I should rather have part of him than none of him.”

  “You are a rare woman indeed, mistress,” Agata said sincerely.

  “Or a fool,” Azura said with a wry smile. “Still, I am happier with him than I have ever been with another.”

  Yes, she was, but these past weeks at sea, bereft of his passion, a passion she had been denied for so long now, had been difficult. Why was it that people believed women could not have the same longings as men? She ached all over from the lack of his touch, and the few kisses that they had managed to steal since they had been reunited had made her need only worsen. And now she must share his passion with two other women! Yet even such thoughts could not disturb the newly named Azura’s happiness. She had made her choice and there was no going back.

  Sultan Mehmet greeted his grandson warmly. “From your smile I am led to believe you have attained your heart’s desire, Amir,” he said.

  “I have,” the prince answered, bowing low before his grandfather and ruler.

  “And how much trouble did you cause in Venice to attain it?” the sultan asked.

  “Has their representative complained?” Amir countered.

  “No,” the sultan answered. He signaled a slave to bring refreshments, indicating that he wished his grandson to remain for a time.

  “Let me tell you a tale of adventure,” Amir said, and when his grandfather nodded, he began. “Once there was a prince so desperately in love with a beautiful lady that he would do whatever he had to do to make the lady his own.” Amir then went on to tell the sultan of how, unbeknownst to the prince, his lady love and her sister had switched places on her fateful wedding day. He related the comedy of how the wrong girl had therefore been kidnapped and brought to the prince’s vessel. How upon discovering the ruse, the prince had had to return the wrong maiden and fetch his lady. How they had then escaped Venice, undoubtedly leaving behind chaos and scandal for the two families involved. He used no names, so even the attending slaves, who got caught up in the story, could not possibly claim that the prince in the tale was Amir.

  Sultan Mehmet roared with laughter as he considered Amir’s eagerness to be reunited with his lover, only to discover it was her younger sister. He was admiring that the girl had kept her wits about her despite her fright, and helped Amir straighten out the whole situation. “So in Venice no one knows it was the younger girl who would have wed the man she loved, and not his lady love? An adroit plot, my boy. You have claimed a clever woman for yourself. I can only hope she will get on with Maysun and Shahdi. Nothing is worse for a man than a quarrelsome harem.”

  “My wives are pleasant and easygoing women,” Amir said. “They will welcome Azura into our home.”

  “You have named her Azura?” the sultan asked.

  “For her eyes, Grandfather. Her eyes are the most amazing shade of aquamarine,” Amir explained.

  The sultan smiled a slight smile. His grandson was indeed a man in love. It was fortunate for them both that he had not inherited his father’s disobedient nature. Mehmet knew he could thank the English kadin who had been his son, Jem’s, favorite for that.

  She was a wise girl that they had named Zayna, meaning “beauty,” who had quickly learned the ways of the harem. She had carefully protected her only son, teaching him utmost obedience to the sultan. By the time she died, when Amir was yet a boy, he had learned his lessons well. Amir was the only one among his male sons and grandsons that the great sultan trusted not to betray him.

  The sultan’s own sons were always quarreling. His eldest son Bayezit’s sons were as ambitious as their father, each having different mothers aspiring to see their own son rule one day. But Jem’s only son had wisely taken himself from the midst of it all once he was old enough to make such a decision. He had become a merchant prince living in Florence, sending back bits and pieces of information and gossip to his grandfather from time to time.

  He had disappointed his own father in doing so. Now Amir was back within the bounds of Mehmet’s empire. Would he really be content to be a country gentleman with his women, his dogs, and his horses? But then he would also have his three trading vessels, and his interest in them had always been very strong.

  “My lord grandfather.”

  The sultan’s thoughts were interrupted. He focused his dark eyes upon Amir.

  “My lord, I would ask a boon of you. I would have Azura come to the Moonlight Serai as my legal wife. Will you represent her before your personal imam so this may be done today?”

  “Of course!” the sultan said enthusiastically. “You do this lady great honor, Amir.” Then he called for his imam to come to them. A scribe joined them in order to write up the papers that would make the woman known as Azura legally married to the Ottoman prince known as Amir ibn Jem. Under the law, it was not been necessary for Azura to be present at such an event. When it was done, the imam prayed for the health of the sultan and his empire before Amir departed back to his ship carrying the legal parchments declaring Azura to be his wife.

  He found her and Agata in the large cabin of the vessel
eating their main meal of the day. While Azura bemoaned the lack of that wonderful Florentine invention, the fork, she seemed content enough to use her fingers now, picking up small pieces of roasted lamb with two fingers and scooping the saffroned rice up with three in a spoonlike motion. He joined them, seating himself cross-legged at the head of the small table.

  “You found your grandfather well, my lord?” she asked him politely as she ceased eating herself and prepared him a plate of food with Agata’s help.

  “Very well, and pleased enough with me to have his own imam and scribe see to the legalities of our union, beloved. You are now officially my wife,” he told her.

  “Do I not get to come to my own wedding?” Azura asked him, sounding slightly annoyed. “Remember that you swore I should not have to give up my own faith, Amir.”

  “You do not,” he said.

  “Then we must have a priest of my faith bless this union,” she told him.

  “You will not find a priest in all of the empire who would bless such a union, beloved,” he told her honestly. “You must be content to know that within the laws of my grandfather’s empire you are now considered my legal wife, Azura.” He drew the parchment he had carried from the palace out of his robes. Unrolling it, he held it out to her. “There is the sultan’s signature on this document. He acted for you as your parental guardian. He did you a great honor.”

  The old Bianca rose briefly, but she forced her away, allowing the woman she now was, and must be, to speak for her. She had chosen this life freely. She had gladly walked away from everything she had been born into so she might be with this man. “Was it a nice wedding?” she asked him mischievously. If she was already damned to a fiery hell for this marriage, her words were not going to make it any worse for her with God.

  “It was simple and quick,” he said, reaching out to grasp her hand and squeeze it. He was not a fool. He knew how much this acceptance cost her, but that she was willing to endure it only proved her great love for him. He kissed the hand in his.

  “Shall I leave you, mistress?” Agata asked. The servingwoman could feel the tears pricking at her own eyelids. The love between these two people was overwhelming.

  “No.” The prince answered for them both. “I had best go topside and give orders for our departure.” He scrambled to his feet and left them.

  “How very much he loves you,” Agata said.

  “I know,” Azura responded. “I know.”

  Their ship sailed from its dock on the Golden Horn and made its way through the narrow straits of the Bosphorus. On either side of them, beautiful green hills edged the water. Finally they exited the straits into the Black Sea. Their route kept them within sight of the shoreline, for this sea could be fickle. The storms that came up quickly were apt to be very dangerous and deadly. Then, on the third morning, Agata awakened Azura excitedly. “Come! Come and see,” she said to her mistress. “We have anchored, and Moonlight Serai is within sight! It is like a pristine white jewel in the green hills, mistress! It is beautiful. In all of Florence or Venice, I have never seen anything so beautiful!”

  Azura arose from her bed and came to look. “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed, gazing out at the small palace that would soon be her home. It was set upon a high cliff above the sea. There would be outbuildings, of course, and gardens, for Amir loved gardens. She didn’t think any place that he called home would be without gardens. She was eager to see all of it. “Let us quickly dress,” she said to Agata.

  The cabin door opened and Amir came in. “Ahh,” he said, pleased, “you are awake and can view your new home, beloved.”

  “When may we go ashore?” she asked him excitedly.

  “Shortly,” he told her. “I must go and see that the messenger I sent from Istanbul arrived safely and that all is in readiness for you.”

  “A messenger?” Azura said, curious.

  “A pigeon,” he told her. “It is how I communicate with my grandfather or my women when necessary, or my captains communicate with me when their vessels arrive in port after a voyage. It is very convenient.”

  “Oh, look!” Agata cried. “A flag has just been raised from the rooftop of the Serai, my lord. It is green and has a crescent moon upon it.”

  “We are being welcomed,” Amir said with a smile. “Obviously my message was received by my head eunuch, Diya al Din. He manages my household as a majordomo would serve a noble house in Venice or Florence. The eunuch serving as guardian of my harem is called Ali Farid.”

  “Have you other women in your harem besides your first two wives?” Agata inquired of the prince boldly. It was a query she knew her mistress wanted to ask but would not. Agata also understood that once they left this vessel her ability to ask such candid questions would be severely curtailed.

  Amir looked amused by the question. “I have no need for a harem filled with quarreling women,” he told them both. “There are none I need or wish to impress. The only other females in my household are servingwomen. Perhaps your mistress has not told you, Agata, but my first two wives were taken at my lord grandfather, the sultan’s, request to honor the political allies from whose families these women came. Their positions are to be respected, but it is your mistress who has my whole heart.

  “Now do not dare to question me again, woman. Though you are not a slave, you are a servant in my household and subject to the same rules and customs as all the others who serve me. Such boldness will disturb the eunuchs. Do you understand me?” He looked directly at her, his blue eyes grave.

  “Yes, my lord prince,” Agata replied, bowing from the waist as her mistress had recently taught her was the polite action to go with any response to him, be it yes or no. “Forgive my boldness. It will not happen again.”

  His mouth twitched but he managed not to laugh. This sort of adjustment was going to be very difficult for the outspoken Florentine woman, but Amir knew she would try hard for the sake of her mistress.

  “If we have been welcomed, my dear lord, then are we free to go ashore?” Azura asked him, smiling. “I will admit I am eager to take a bath, for certainly I am rank after our many days at sea.”

  “Get dressed and put on your pelisses,” he told them as he left them. “I will go now and make certain the boat is ready to take us ashore.”

  Shortly after he had gone, the two women, cloaked and veiled, joined him upon the deck. They were settled into a boat, which was then lowered from the vessel into the choppy sea. Despite the sunlight dancing upon the water, Azura could comprehend how the Black Sea had gained its name. She had never before seen waters so dark and forbidding. She thought of the bright blue and blue-green waters of the Adriatic, the Mediterranean, and the Aegean seas through which they had traveled. Even the little sea of Marmara had a far friendlier look than these waters. Both women were relieved to have their transport rowed quickly to the rocky shore, where a party of people awaited their arrival.

  “My lord prince, welcome home!” A tall, thin black man stepped forward, bowing.

  “Thank you, Diya al Din,” Amir said. “The lady with me is my new wife, Azura, and her servant, who is called Agata. Know that Azura has my full love and trust, old friend. I have waited long to find and claim her.”

  “I am happy to hear it, my lord prince,” Diya al Din said. Then he turned to Azura, and bowing, bade her welcome to the Moonlight Serai.

  A litter had been brought down from the little palace, for the climb up was considered too strenuous for a woman. Both Azura and Agata were ensconced and carried up by the four bearers, who didn’t seem in the least winded. They went at a trot through a magnificent garden now giving way to autumn, then into the palace itself. When they finally set the litter back down, its curtains were drawn open by a light-skinned eunuch, who helped them out. They found themselves facing another tall, coal black man. This eunuch, however, was larger boned than the elegant Diya al Din.

  “I am Ali Farid, master of the prince’s harem.” He introduced himself in a high-pitched voice. �
�I welcome the lady Azura to the Moonlight Serai. Be advised that you will answer to me in all that you do, and your servingwoman as well. I will not allow disobedience among the women for whom I am responsible. As my master’s third wife, you are the least among them. Now follow me, and I will take you to your quarters.”

  Agata looked as if she were going to explode like a Chinese firework, but a warning look from her mistress aided her in keeping silent.

  Ali Farid led them from the hallway where the litter had been set down and through a set of large double doors opening into a large tiled room empty of furniture.

  “Here we allow the local women to come so they may display their goods for your inspection. You may purchase what pleases you,” he said, explaining the purpose of the chamber. “I will pay for your purchases.” Turning right, he led them through a smaller paneled door into a little anteroom, and then through another paneled door into a square salon. It was furnished with low tables, lamps, and a rainbow of multicolored pillows. At the salon’s far end was a wall of lead-paned windows. Beyond it, a wonderful garden looked out onto the sea.

  “I have never before seen such a marvelous display of windows!” Azura said aloud. “It is beautiful, Ali Farid, as is this entire chamber.”

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed, pleased by the compliment. It seemed as if the prince’s third wife was an amenable woman. “This corridor,” he said, pointing to his left, “leads to the harem baths. Perhaps the lady Azura and her servant would enjoy a bath shortly,” he said, sniffing delicately.

  “Indeed, yes!” Azura told him, and she laughed. “Even I find the scent lingering about me rank after all those days at sea, Ali Farid.”

  “If I have offended, I beg the lady Azura’s pardon,” the head harem eunuch said.

  “Nay, I fear ’tis I who have offended,” Azura told him.