The Drowning Guard: A Novel of the Ottoman Empire

by Linda Lafferty

  “This is where my association with Emerald began. He was one of the many young eunuchs who supervised and served us. I knew he also served regularly in the men’s hamam, serving my father, brothers, and cousins. I took a chance and asked him.

  “ ‘Emerald. I must ask you a favor.’

  “ ‘Your desire is my command,’ he replied.

  “He was an ambitious man from the start and my father’s favor towards me had ignited his interest.

  “ ‘I want you to request a private audience for me with my father.’

  “He raised his eyebrows and his thick lips parted. ‘How am I to do this?’

  “ ‘When you are attending my father in the harem, you will ask him gently if he would consider it. Tell him—tell him there is a secret that I cannot share in front of my mother. He will respect that, I should think, and it will make him curious.’

  “Emerald nodded, though his face showed great doubt. ‘And if he should judge me impertinent?’

  “ ‘You will simply say that you were forced to do so by my royal hand, his favorite daughter! He will absolve you of all.’

  “The eunuch nodded again, but he looked at me still in doubt. ‘Sultaness—I shall carry out your order, but you may learn a difficult lesson.’

  “ ‘What is that?’

  “ ‘A father’s love may be unconditional, but a Sultan’s is not.’

  “With that he bowed, asking permission to leave.

  “Despite Emerald’s warning, he did deliver the message to my father in the hamam. At first, the Sultan’s annoyance was clear and Emerald feared for his head. But then the Sultan decided he was delighted that I was coming to him for what he supposed was advice.

  “ ‘She would have made a stately prince,’ he told the Vizier, in front of the eunuch. ‘She knows what gossips the women of the Serail are, and comes to me for wisdom. Had she been born a male, she would have governed this Empire with an iron fist.’

  “So there was great confusion and disappointment when the Sultan heard my request.

  “I was far too big to crawl up in his lap now. I stood straight and bowed low, as I had been taught by my mother.

  “ ‘Speak, my daughter,’ he said. ‘You have been granted your private audience.’

  “ ‘But the Solaks,’ I complained. ‘And the Great Vizier. I requested to speak to you in private.’

  “ ‘How little you know!’ he roared laughing. He gestured to his Great Vizier who nodded to indulge him, though I could see that the Vizier was not happy about my presence in the throne room, reserved for men only. ‘Speak, Esma!’ my father commanded. ‘I am very busy today with ambassadors from France and Russia. I cannot make them wait much longer without risking war.’

  “ ‘I want you to free Sophie, my Sultan father,’ I blurted out.

  “ ‘What?’

  “ ‘If not free her, I want you to give her to me as my handmaiden.’

  “My father drew a great breath, and for a few seconds I thought he would fail to expel it. He finally smiled and looked at me as he always did. To him I was a charming, precocious child. Merely a girl, like a pretty charm on a bracelet.

  “His eyes looked old but delighted to find innocence in my own.

  “ ‘Haven’t I given you enough gifts, daughter?’ he asked, his voice soft. ‘Sophie is part of my harem, Esma. You must not ask me for that which I cannot grant.’

  “ ‘She is my friend,’ I told him. ‘And she is terrified of this place.’

  “ ‘Then we must make her feel at ease. You women in the harem should comfort her for I only want harmony in the Serail. I shall talk to your mother about this.’

  “This was the last thing I wanted.

  “ ‘But you are the Sultan! It is within your power to release Sophie! I beg of you, reconsider. I could buy her from you, father!’

  “I was thirteen years old and, despite Emerald’s warning, I had mistaken the Sultan for a father who would indulge me everything. What I learned that day was that my father had granted my indulgences only to please himself. He had given me a palace and parties and fine clothes because it gave him pleasure.

  “To lose a beautiful virgin in his harem would give him no pleasure at all.

  “ ‘Esma, it is time you grew up. My daughter, a harem is not something I barter with, not even with my own blood. By Mohammed’s word, I have pledged to care for these women. No harm shall come to Sophie. She will be well cared for and one day have the riches and prestige your mother now enjoys. Her future is immensely better than it ever would have been in the wild regions of the North. Now you must run along, back to the Serail. Emerald, escort the Esma Sultan back to her apartments.’

  “That night Sophie was moved from our apartments to the Valide’s wing.

  “ ‘It will be better this way,’ said my mother, trying to comfort me.

  “I looked into her clear, blue eyes and saw a shadow pass over their depths. I knew she was lying. But I knew, she too had come to love Sophie, despite her efforts to distance herself.

  “A week later, a special feast was celebrated in the Serail. I was to be seated on the right of my father, along with all the other royal princesses and Valide. My brother Mahmud and cousin Selim sat at his left.

  “Several women from the harem played the old Turkish music that is rarely heard today. Their fingers on the sitar were graceful and their music full of emotion, bringing tears to the eyes of many who listened.

  “Next there were dancers. It was rumored that my father preferred the lascivious dancing of young boys to that of his harem, but I was to learn that my father liked both sexes, and, despite his advanced age, was eager for new conquests. He was a Sultan who loved arts, dance, music—anything that expressed grace.

  “The old Valide Sultan, my grandmother and mother of the Sultan, supervised the dancers. She had impeccable standards. It was she who chose the silks and bodices they would wear and sniffed the perfumes to find the most sensuous. She attended the dance practices daily and had harsh words for any girl who did not put forth her best effort.

  “The girls had practiced hour upon hour. The best could undulate their breasts at the same time they performed rhythmic pulsations with their bellies, even while curling and unfurling their hips.

  “I was shocked to see what Sophie had learned. Despite her slight girlish body, she had mastered the Turkish dance with a style all her own, which astonished us all.

  “Perhaps it was because her hips were still slight that she could angle and pivot them, canting them this way and that with an innocence that the bigger girls couldn’t. Her bodice was stuffed with cotton gauze, draped discreetly with silk, for her breasts were no bigger than walnuts.

  “She was meant to show her fine promise tonight for the years to come when she became a woman.

  “The most lascivious dancer was a Circassian beauty named Rushdah with violet eyes and high firm breasts. She was eighteen and danced with a knowing look, clear and direct, even over her yasmak. At the end of the dance, she saucily removed it in front of the Sultan, keeping his eye until she was ushered out of the room.

  “The Valide watched her dancers with pride, sliding a glance towards her son every now and again. It was her job to ensure that there be as many heirs as possible for the throne. She noticed how my little brother, Mahmud, eyed Sophie, who so recently had been a playmate—before his circumcision.

  “The Valide Sultan laughed with delight at his interest, for she had been demanding of Sophie and was happy to see this little peasant girl would some day turn into a beautiful woman with the graces of a worthy concubine or even a wife.

  “Still, Mahmud was only a boy, and third in line for the throne. First was his cousin Selim and then his half brother Mustafa. It was highly unlikely that young Mahmud would ever reside permanently at Tokapi and enjoy such a fabulous harem.

  “Both the Valide and I were wrong that night. She was wrong about Mahmud and I was wrong about my father
and his love.

  “ ‘Hatice! Come to me, my daughter,’ cried the Sultan, though she was not really his daughter; she was my cousin, sister to Selim. ‘It is your turn to play my favorite.’

  “I stood stunned, my hands heavy at my side. I could neither lift them to my mouth nor could I disguise my expression of astonishment and horror. Was I not his favorite, always? Yet this was my cousin and my father had always treated his nieces and nephews with indulgences, even if Selim was housed in the Topkapi Cage most of the time. Even my father who dearly loved his dead brother’s son, could not willingly invite a rebellion, so he kept his nephew secure in his prison except for special events. He knew how to rule his Empire and he knew how to control his family—just as he was now teaching me a lesson in the meaning of love and power.

  “ ‘Esma, close your mouth this instant. You look the fool,’ whispered my mother.

  “ ‘Come, Hatice. Sit at my side,’ said my father. ‘We will watch another dance. You and I shall pick the best of the dancers, my dear.’

  “Hatice was a silly girl and the unprecedented praise went to her head. What she did not think about was that the decision she made would decide the destiny of the concubines and the Sultan’s favor. She thought of it only as a game and an event that would bring her pleasure.

  “She would decide which dancer would sleep in his bed.

  “The dance kadin clapped her hands and reassembled the dancers. Within seconds, the music resumed and the dancers whirled across the floor. Hatice, clapped her hands along with the music, and my father nodded his head.

  “ ‘Come closer, dancers,’ he said, for aged as he was, his eyes had grown weak. ‘Let me see your graceful moves at closer proximity.’

  “The dancers pressed close to him, so that he could examine the sinews of their bodies and see the beads of sweat on their abdomens. The Circassian woman, Rushdah, flexed her muscles and with a quick jerk of her hip, flicked perspiration into my father’s face. Her impertinence was rewarded by a slow smile, as the Sultan took his white handkerchief and slowly drew it across his face, lingering on his lips.

  “He dropped the kerchief at her feet, signaling his desire for her to visit his bed that night.

  “Hatice looked up in dismay. ‘Was I not to decide a beautiful dancer, Uncle?’ she asked, her voice shrill with disappointment.

  “ ‘Forgive me, daughter. I forgot my promise.’ He waved for his servant to provide him another handkerchief. He handed it to my foolish cousin.

  “ ‘It is true, I have kept you from your pleasure of choosing. You shall double my pleasure!’ laughed my father, and he nodded to the young princes, Selim and little Mahmud, that this was how a royal Sultan behaved.

  “She received it with great enthusiasm and looked about the room at the dozen or more dancers. To be favored by the Sultan was the most fervent wish of a member of a harem; to be ignored for very long could mean banishment from Topkapi and an unknown destiny.

  “I could see each one of the young women widen their eyes in supplication to the Princess. Please, please, their eyes whispered so loud that it seemed there was a chant as loud as the muezzin’s from the minaret. Fortunes and futures could be decided if the Sultan enjoyed their company in his bed. If not favored, sooner or later the girls would become more menial servants, doing laundry or merely serving food for the rest of their lives.

  “Hatice threw the handkerchief far into the room. It fell on the back row of dancers, at Sophie’s feet.

  “ ‘She is the best, father,’ said my cousin. ‘None of the others has the grace of our Sophie.’

  “There was a murmur within the harem and the Head Eunuch struck his staff twice on the ground to silence the women.

  “The Sultan nodded. ‘I will listen to the wisdom of the Princess Hatice. Sophie, pick up the handkerchief, my child.’

  “Sophie remained still as stone, looking at the piece of white cloth as if it were a venomous serpent.

  “ ‘Do as you are told,’ commanded the Valide, vexed at the girl’s hesitation.

  “Sophie bent down and picked up the handkerchief with trembling hands. She tucked it into her bodice, cloth against rustling cloth. She ventured a look at me, furtive and horrified.

  “I stood aghast, my heart beating in my throat and temples. My mother motioned me to remain quiet and for the first time in my life, I did as I was told.

  “ ‘No, father,’ I whispered to myself, for I could do nothing. ‘Not her.’

  “In my dreams, I saved her. I rescued Sophie, before my father could touch her and I brought her, still a child virgin, to this very palace, where she and others like her would be protected from probing hands of unwelcomed men. But these were just a child’s dreams and I was forced to grow up very quickly after that night.

  “My mother stroked my arm and tried to smile, though she, too, was touched with emotion and thought Sophie, at age ten, to be far too young to entertain my father.

  “The reaction in the Serail was mixed. The women, especially the older ones, had seen all sorts of behavior in their years at the harem and the decision was only a momentary diversion.

  “ ‘Sophie’s hips are too small to give a man pleasure, and her breasts are like rosebuds. He shall grow impatient with her.’

  “ ‘The Sultan will appreciate this. He takes young boys no older than Sophie as lovers. A small breast and slim hips will please him.’

  “ ‘She has not started her menses. He should let this closed bud bloom and then enjoy her nectar.’

  “ ‘Still the sainted Aisha, wife of the Prophet, was betrothed at age six. Mohammed took her to his bed when she was nine. If this is right by the one who gave us the Koran and God’s word, it is example enough for the Sultan. Who has the right to criticize the Prophet?’

  “My mother started to answer, then pressed her lips tight. Her eyes sought Nakshidil’s. Some silent message was communicated between the two, though neither spoke a word.

  “And so the talk drifted on until I could hear no more. I remained alone in my royal apartments, in the bed where my adopted sister normally slept with me. Late that night, as I lay crying on my cushions, Emerald knocked at my door.

  “ ‘Your Royal Highness, I bring you this,’ he said. ‘I come at great risk under the order of the Prince Mahmud and am asked to bring your reply.’

  “I admitted Emerald into my apartments and opened the folded and sealed Italian paper with the stamp of the Ottoman prince.”

  My Dear Sister,

  I, too, am horrified at Sophie’s destiny, as is my mother who calls the Sultan’s decision barbarous. She will not be comforted by the story of Aisha, and says that what the Prophet did does not excuse our father.

  She pronounced such blasphemy that I dare not write of it in fear that my mother will be executed as an infidel. She, unlike the others in the Serail, still harbors her pagan faith, though she knows so many passages of the Koran and says her prayers five times a day and in all other ways, acts as a faithful servant to Islam. She is so educated in so many matters, but childlike in her devotion to the infidel’s creed.

  I have heard of your pleas to our father and think of your courage. I know Sophie is a sister to you. My mother has shared a secret sura with me, one we were forbidden to read in our Koran studies. She refers to it as the “Forgotten Verse of Women” although it is from Mohammed’s mouth—she says that Mohammed loved the goodness of women as much as men’s and it was his ambitious followers who destroyed the balance between male and female. These words trouble me just as much as her devotion to Mary, for surely she will go to hell.

  “These are the exalted Females, and verily their intercession is to be hoped for.” She has embroidered this verse onto the handkerchief I enclose and begs you to give it to Sophie.

  I cannot deny her anything. I love her with all my heart.

  Your adoring brother,

  Mahmud

  “I knew that Mahmud was secretly in love with Sophie.
His young heart ached with love and he was wretched, thinking of his father touching the object of his devotion. Yet, there was nothing he could do.

  “My brother would be cursed with his obsession for Sophie for the rest of his life.

  “I woke up the next morning with the songbirds singing in the trees next to my window. The air seemed soft with spring and I thought perhaps my father would hear my reason in his sleep and consent to allow Sophie to mature and delay her appearance in his bed.

  “But as I approached the hamam, I immediately saw that I was mistaken. Sophie was conveyed by the Valide herself, who would supervise the day-long ritual of bathing, depilation, and henna tattooing that was compulsory before a visit to the Sultan’s bedchamber. Her face was painted and her eyebrows were extended over her nose to look as if they met in the middle, as is the style of beauty in the Serail.

  “As Sophie was being bathed, the Valide spoke to my mother.

  “ ‘This is an indulgence on my son’s part,’ she complained. ‘Let me sit there next to you, for my aged legs bother me. I’m far too old for this nonsense.’

  “The Valide lowered herself slowly to the marble bench while the servant girls served iced lemon-barley water to the two ladies.

  “ ‘I was thirteen when the Sultan’s father first took me to his bed. But this was different. I had already had my fourth menses. Sophie is just ten and not yet a woman.

  “ ‘This is a waste of my son’s seed. The girl cannot conceive a child! It is merely an indulgence,’ she repeated. ‘Haven’t I been a good mother in procuring the most beautiful women of the Empire? Why does he choose this yearling to take to his bed?

  “ ‘What spills on the sheets could have been better used on one of the older girls. This girl steals my son’s virility and my grandchildren!’

  “The old woman rubbed her aching hands.

  “ ‘Have you spoken to Sophie about her expected conduct tonight?’ asked my mother.

  “ ‘No. I ask that you perform that task. I fear I might frighten her with talk of her duties in the bedroom. You and Esma are family to her, it will be better for you to tell her. Please remember to tell her not to touch the scar on the side of his right thigh. It still pains him from time to time. Ah, but here I am telling you something that you know better than I! You see, I really am too old to oversee my son’s harem.’