A Love for All Time (45 page)

Aidan longed to peep between the curtains, and see where she was going. She could hear the sounds of the city all about her, but the gauze was heavy enough to blur the sights without. There was a variety of smells beginning with the waterfront which reeked of the sea and of the strong odor of fish. These scents lessened, and as they moved farther away from the docks, others began to take their place. There was the smell of cooking oil, and ripening fruits, of leather being tanned, and flowers. The sound of voices was a cacophonous blend of unintelligible noise, but gradually as they entered the area near the Yeni Serai the noise lessened. Then suddenly the litter was placed firmly upon the ground, the draperies were drawn open, and Jinji reached in to hand Aidan out.

“Follow me,” said Omar, and he hurried off across the courtyard without even looking to see if they were behind him. He simply assumed that they were. Aidan barely had time to look around her, but Jinji did manage to whisper to her before they entered the building, “Do you see the gardeners there, my lady? Innocent-looking aren’t they, but they are really the sultan’s executioners.”

Aidan shivered. Executioners! It was a frightening thought. She increased her speed behind Jinji and Omar as they entered a two-storied building, and moved down a cool dim corridor. They came to a carved door before which stood two tall, muscled black men with rather fierce-looking curved swords. Omar moved past them, opening the door, and then stepping back to allow Aidan entry into the room beyond. As her eyes became used to the darkened room she saw sitting before her on a low dais a small spare old man. He motioned her forward impatiently.

“Do you understand Turkish?” he demanded in a high and reedy voice.

“I am learning, my lord,” she said slowly. “If you do not speak too quickly I think that I can understand you. I speak French.”

“Then so will I for now,” said the man. He was richly dressed in a heavy brocaded gown of red and black trimmed in dark fur, and upon his head he wore a turban of cloth of gold with a ruby. “Remove your feridje. Help her, Omar. Do not stand there basking in your own self-importance.”

Omar hurried to do the man’s bidding, quickly removing her veil, and then undoing the long enveloping cape, and carrying it away.

“I am Ilban Bey,” said the little man. “I am the agha kislar of the Sultan Murad’s household. Among my duties is the care of the women who live here. You speak French. Are you French?”

“No, my lord, I am English.”

“The English! An interesting people ruled by a woman of all things! We are only beginning to deal formally with the English.”

“I am an intimate of the queen’s,” said Aidan, stretching the truth slightly. “I was one of her maids of honor. I am a married woman who was stolen from her home and husband. My family can and will pay a large ransom for me.”

“So,” said Ilban Bey, “you are of the noble class? That is good. We have women from all lands and of all classes from the highest to the lowest. I like noblewomen, however, for I find them more intelligent. They comprehend a situation more clearly.” His sharp dark eyes peered out of his brown face, looking her over carefully. “Now,” he said, “remove your clothing for me so I may see just how greatly the dey has honored my master.”

Aidan gasped. “Remove my clothing?”

He nodded. “Would you like your eunuch to help you?” His hand signaled to Jinji.

He scampered forward, his expressive eyes pleading with Aidan not to cause a scene. She shrugged, and sighed softly. What good would it do her to complain and struggle? Ilban Bey wanted to see her without her clothes, and so he would. She nodded to Jinji to begin, holding out her arms so he might more easily remove the slash-skirted dress while she removed the shawl that was tied artfully about her hips. Jinji worked swiftly, and Aidan quickly stood nude before the agha kislar of Sultan Murad’s household. The eunuch undid the heavy braid of her hair, and fluffing it with his hands spread her copper-colored tresses over her shoulders. Then falling to his knees he touched his head to the floor saying, “It is done, my lord.”

A faint smile touched the lips of Ilban Bey. If there was one thing he recognized it was ambition. Then he brought his thoughts back to the woman who stood before him. She was big for a woman, taller than most women and even some men, yet she was nicely proportioned. Rising he came off his dais to look more closely. His hand smoothed over her skin as if he were examining a high-strung mare. She shivered when he cupped one of her breasts impersonally, and fingered the nipple which to her intense embarrassment puckered slightly. A flush spread across her cheeks, but Ilban Bey fixed her with a look, and said,

“Your breasts are the most beautiful that I have ever seen, and they are quite sensitive I can see. That is a marvelous thing in a woman. What are you called?”

“I am Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss,” she said in a level voice. It was amazing, her mind reasoned, what a woman could bear under the most trying of circumstances.

“No,” he said quietly. “You are Marjallah, which means ‘A Gift from the Sea’; and you will answer from now on to the name of Marjallah. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said low.

He could see the distress and the confusion in her eyes. She was obviously a woman of spirit, but in this very different situation for her she was not certain just what to do. She chose to be obedient under the circumstances, until she might consider her position. It was the wise choice, but it disturbed him. She was a lovely woman with her flawless body, and her gorgeous hair, but if there was one thing that the sultan did not need at this time it was another woman influencing him. There were already four women doing that, and it was causing difficulty. This was not the time for the dey to have sent an intelligent woman to the sultan. Intelligent women were ambitious women as a rule. Ilban Bey wished that they might indeed ransom this beauty back to her family. Alas, however, the dey could not be insulted, and besides it was not his decision. He must consult the sultan valideh, Nur-U-Banu, the sultan’s mother, on this matter.

“Dress yourself, Marjallah,” he said to her, and then to Omar, “The lady Marjallah is to be housed in the oda of the lady Sayeste for the time being.” Then to Aidan again, “Lady Sayeste speaks the tongue of the Franks, and she will help you to adjust to your new life, Marjallah. She is kind, and you may trust her.”

Dressed again Aidan was led with Jinji from the room. The agha kislar waited but a few minutes, and then he left his quarters, and walking through the palace gardens followed a path that led to the small, separate palace of the sultan valideh, Nur-U-Banu, which was located amid beautiful gardens near the seraglio point. Murad’s mother preferred her own home to the women’s quarters of the Yeni Serai.

He found her seated by a pool of water lilies watching the goldfish swimming back and forth. She was a beautiful woman, a Circassian by birth and of medium height. Her golden hair was yet bright, but her figure was somewhat fuller than it had been in her youth when she was the favorite of the late sultan, Selim II. She raised her blue eyes to him as he approached, but remained seated.

“Good afternoon, Ilban Bey,” she said in a slightly deeper voice than one might have expected from so delicate-looking a woman.

“Good afternoon, gracious lady. I come to lay a problem at your dainty feet.”

“Then be seated, Ilban Bey. You have my permission to speak.”

He settled himself next to her on the edge of the pool. “The Dey of Algiers sent a shipload of gifts to his majesty which arrived just today.”

“I know,” she said. “I understand that there are two pairs of salukis amongst the tribute. I should so like a pair of those dogs, but then so does my son’s favorite, Safiye Kadin.”

“Did you know that among these gifts was also a woman, my lady valideh?”

“Murad is always being sent women,” said Nur-U-Banu.

“Beautiful women, fluffy kittens of girls, wide-eyed virgins are what usually pass through the gates of the harem, but this is different. The dey has sent the sultan an Englishwoman, stolen from her family. She has the most perfect form I have ever seen on any woman, and hair like polished copper. Her face is pretty, although she is certainly no great beauty, but she is intelligent, my lady valideh. Far too intelligent to remain merely a plaything of your son should he favor her, and I do not believe he can see her, and not desire her. She is truly lovely.”

“What you are saying to me, Ilban Bey, is that we must rid ourselves of this female.”

“Yes, my gracious lady.”

“You do not think we could use her against Safiye Kadin?”

“You could use her, gracious lady, but although I believe she would attract the sultan, I do not believe she would give her loyalty to anyone but Murad. Safiye would fight with her, and she would defend herself. She would resent you if you tried to influence her, and then she, too, would be an enemy. Better we used mindless beauties to thwart Safiye Kadin, and this woman is not stupid.”

“Then we must remove her from the harem, Ilban Bey. Let me think this through. Surely we can find a use for her. We cannot return her to her family for the dey would be mightily offended. We need to find a way that will make use of her without involving her with my son, and at the same time doing honor to the dey who sent her to Murad.” Her smooth brow furrowed in thought for several minutes during which time Ilban Bey sat quietly by the sultan valideh’s side, and waited for her decision in the matter. Finally Nur-U-Banu said, “We shall make a gift of her to someone whom my son wishes to honor, but who, Ilban Bey? Who?”

“Prince Javid Khan, my gracious lady. He is the perfect choice.”

The sultan valideh clapped her hands. “Of course, Ilban Bey! Of course! It is the perfect choice. My son is giving a reception tonight to welcome Javid Khan, and he can present the woman to him then as a token of his esteem. Where did you place the woman?”

“With the lady Sayeste’s oda.”

“Very good! There is no chance of Murad’s seeing her by chance before tonight. I will, however, suggest to my son that such a gift be readied for the prince, and I shall offer to choose the woman myself.”

Ilban Bey arose. “I shall see that Marjallah is prepared carefully tonight.”

The sultan valideh was pleased. “Marjallah? Is that her name?”

“I took the liberty of naming her as the dey had not.”

“
A Gift from the Sea.
How clever of you, Ilban Bey, but then that is why you are my son’s agha kislar, because you are clever.”

“And loyal to my gracious mistress,” Ilban Bey said.

Nur-U-Banu laughed. “But first clever, my old friend. First and foremost, clever.”

“Who is clever, dear mother Nur-U-Banu?”

Ilban Bey and the sultan valideh turned to see Murad’s bas kadin, Safiye, with a group of her handmaidens.

Nur-U-Banu smiled coolly. “How quietly you move, Safiye. Like a cat, I think. How is my grandson?”

“He is well,” came the short answer. The bas kadin was mother of Sultan Murad’s only son, and heir, Prince Memhet. “Now tell me who is clever?” Safiye would not be denied her curiosity.

“Ilban Bey is clever,” said the valideh.

“Because he has run to you with news of another potential rival for me, dear mother Nur-U-Banu? Perhaps the dey’s red-haired slavewoman will hold my Murad’s interest for a short time, but when will you admit to yourself that he will never forsake me? It is me that your son loves!
Me!
”

The sultan valideh looked coldly at the bas kadin. “You are mistaken, Safiye, as you frequently are,” she said. “Since I do not want you feeding on your groundless fears all day, however, let me assure you that your supposition is incorrect. Ilban Bey has come to inform me that he thought the dey’s gift would make an excellent gift for my son to give to Prince Javid Khan tonight. I am just on my way to see the girl. Will you come with me? I think it would be refreshing for my son to see his mother, and his favorite at one accord for a change, don’t you?”

Safiye was somewhat taken aback. “You are giving this woman away?”

“She is not mine to give away, Safiye, she is my son’s. I am going to suggest, however, that as his harem is full to overflowing that perhaps this lady would make a charming present for our new ambassador from the Khanate of the Crimea. Don’t you agree?”

Surprised as she was Safiye’s wits were not so muddled that she didn’t see the advantage of ridding herself of a potential rival. Every woman who entered the harem was a personal threat to her, and to her influence. As it was she had to share Murad’s attention with three serious rivals: his mother; his sister, Fahrusha Sultan; and the woman, Janfeda, who although she did not share his bed, nonetheless had considerable influence with him for they were of all things,
friends
! “I think that a gift of that nature would be perfect for Prince Javid Khan,” Safiye agreed with her mother-in-law. “Yes, I should very much like to go with you, and see her.”

The sultan valideh smiled, but there was no warmth in the gesture. “Come along then, Safiye, but send your maidens away for I do not want the entire harem apprised of our business.”

The two women in the company of Ilban Bey found their way back into the Yeni Serai, and moving along a dark corridor came to a small room which they entered. Ilban Bey removed three plugs from a wall, and then he and his companions each putting an eye to the little openings looked through into the next room. Inside it there were seven women, one older, and obviously the leader, the other six in her charge. The older woman, a handsome creature with dark hair, and white, white skin, was richly garbed in cherry-pink trousers, a light pink gauze blouse, and a slash-skirted dress of pink and silver brocade. She was seated upon a divan, and even now was speaking, although they could not hear her, to a young woman who stood before her.

The valideh scrutinized Aidan carefully. She obviously liked what she saw for a small smile flitted across her face, and she said, “The prince should be quite pleased, and impressed with such a gift. She is not beautiful in a classical sense, but she is a lovely woman, and the fact she is not virgin is a good thing for I am told that Javid Khan is a man of sophisticated tastes.” She looked at Safiye, and said wickedly, “You are fortunate, my daughter, that I have not chosen to use Marjallah against you, for I truly believe that she might be the one woman who could take my son from you permanently.” Then Nur-U-Banu laughed.