Siege (20 page)

‘You are hurt!’ Sitt Hatun cried, as she noticed that Anna’s clothes were covered with blood.

‘It is not mine, My Lady.’

‘That man you killed …’ Sitt Hatun said. ‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’

Anna shrugged. ‘My parents died when I was young, and I had to fend for myself.’

It was a cold spring night, and the two of them huddled together in the prow of the boat, looking back on the sprawling imperial palace, the white stone walls lit by hundreds of winking torches. ‘The next time we see those walls,’ Sitt Hatun swore softly, ‘we shall enter in glory, and Gülbehar shall tremble in fear.’

They had been on the river no more than a few minutes when Isa began to row for the shore. He docked the boat at a small pier in Manisa’s river port. Then, once they were out of the boat, he pushed it back out into the river, letting it drift away. ‘Come, we haven’t much time,’ he told them and led them into the dark, narrow streets of the city. Their short trip ended at the gate of an innocuous white house in the merchant’s district. Isa unlocked
the gate and led them through a small courtyard and into the home. They emerged into a round common room with several more passageways branching off from it. A low table sat in the middle of the room, lit by candles and set with food and drink. Halil, wearing a green satin robe with swirling patterns in gold, was seated on a cushion beside the table. It was the first time that Sitt Hatun had seen him in person. He was tall and spare, with long delicate fingers that had clearly never seen battle. His olive-skinned face was thin, but still relatively smooth despite his forty-eight years. He wore a well-trimmed moustache that curved downward into a tiny grey-flecked beard. He might have been called handsome but for the jagged scar stretching down from his right temple to his jaw, and his unnerving eyes. Large and palest grey, they were cold and unblinking, like the eyes of a dead man.

Halil rose and bowed as Sitt Hatun entered. ‘Welcome, sultana,’ he said. His smile – thin lips stretched back over sharp teeth – made him look like a wolf at hunt. ‘I am so glad that you arrived safely. Your servant can make herself comfortable in there.’ He gestured to a side passage. Anna squeezed Sitt Hatun’s hand and left. Halil turned to Isa. ‘Isa, you may go,’ he said, and Isa retreated quietly. Halil gestured for Sitt Hatun to be seated at the table. ‘Some refreshments for you? You must be famished after your adventures.’

Sitt Hatun shook her head. She was nervous, and her stomach rebelled at the sight of food. ‘Excellent,’ Halil said. ‘We have little time to spare anyway. The assassins will be looking for you, and you had best be gone before sunrise. Come, follow me.’ He took a candle and led her down a side passage to a small room that was dominated by a large, canopied bed. He set the candle on a table beside the bed, and then untied his robe and allowed it to slip to the floor. He was entirely naked, thin and lacking in muscle. He gestured for her to undress, but Sitt Hatun did not move. ‘You understand the particulars of our agreement?’ Halil asked.

‘I do,’ Sitt Hatun said. She chided herself for her squeamishness. Any sacrifice was worth making if it meant that her child
would be heir to the throne. She could then deal with Gülbehar as she saw fit. Keeping that in mind, Sitt Hatun turned her back to Halil and methodically undressed. When she was naked, she stepped carefully past Halil and blew out the candle. The room went black.

Sitt Hatun suppressed a shudder of disgust as she felt Halil’s cold hand on her shoulder. ‘Do what must be done,’ she whispered.

MAY 1450: MANISA

Sitt Hatun reached Manisa at dusk, eight days after her night with Halil. Halil had entrusted her and Anna to a Greek eunuch named Erzinjan, who had taken them on a merchant ship down the Maritza river and across the Aegean. Their voyage had been blessed with perfect weather, but it was a tense journey. Sitt Hatun had no illusions as to her ability to elude the assassins. If Mehmed did not protect her in Manisa, then they would find her and kill her.

That is, if Mehmed did not kill her first. Sitt Hatun was not sure that Mehmed would protect her, even after she told him of Gülbehar’s infidelity. The news might well drive him over the edge. After all, now that she had fled the harem she had no protection, no rights. All she had was the
kumru kalp
, sewn into the folds of her silk caftan. Sitt Hatun prayed to Allah that it would be enough.

Veiled to avoid prying eyes, Sitt Hatun and Anna made their way through the sun-baked streets of Manisa to the palace. Sitt Hatun led Anna around to the side, where a small door protected by eunuch guards gave servants access to the harem complex. She walked straight to one of the guards. ‘We wish to present ourselves to the stewardess of the harem,’ she told him. ‘We desire to serve the sultan.’

The guard examined them both closely. ‘Let me see your faces,’ he said at last.

Sitt Hatun shook her head. ‘We show our faces to no man, only to the stewardess.’

‘Very well,’ the guard grumbled. ‘Wait here.’

Sitt Hatun and Anna stood in the shade of the palace wall as the sun inched across the sky and their patch of shade shrank to nothing. Finally, the stewardess appeared. She was an older woman, but still striking despite the faint wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and the grey in her long black hair. As stewardess of the harem, it was her task to recruit and train the women who would serve the sultan. ‘These are the ones?’ she asked the guard, who nodded. ‘Come with me,’ she told Sitt Hatun and Anna.

They followed her down a short passage and into a round room, where the stewardess stopped and turned to face them. ‘This is as far as you go until I get a good look at you,’ she said. ‘Take off your veils.’ Sitt Hatun removed her veil, and the stewardess gasped. ‘Sultana! What are you doing here?’

‘Quiet,’ Sitt Hatun ordered as she replaced her veil. ‘I do not wish my presence to be known by any but the sultan Mehmed. You will tell him that I have arrived yourself. But first, prepare a bath for me and my servant in a private room. And bring me new clothes. I wish to refresh myself before I see the sultan.’

‘Yes, Sultana,’ the stewardess said. She led Sitt Hatun and Anna to a large chamber with a steaming bath set into the floor. Sitt Hatun undressed and lowered herself into the water, where Anna gently washed away the grime from her travels. Sitt Hatun dressed with care, slipping into a revealing gold silk robe, which looked as if it could fall off at a mere thought, and a matching veil. Yet, when the stewardess of the harem led her into Mehmed’s reading-room, he did not even glance up from the book he held before him. Only when she had removed her veil and settled on the floor across from him did Mehmed look at her. ‘Why have you come here, wife?’ he began abruptly. ‘Is it at my father’s bidding?’

She shook her head. ‘He does not know that I am here.’ Mehmed set his book aside, his eyebrows raised. Sitt Hatun was glad to have surprised him; she had the advantage. ‘I have come on my own. I bring news of your father.’

‘Indeed?’ Mehmed replied. ‘The news must be quite important.
You know what the punishment is for leaving the harem without the consent of the sultan?’

‘I know, My Lord.’ The punishment was death, just as it was death for those who entered the harem uninvited. ‘But
you
are the sultan, My Lord. It is for you to decide my fate. Once you have heard my message, you will understand that I have only done a wife’s duty in coming to warn you.’

‘Warn me?’ Mehmed asked. ‘My father would not dare to move against me. I am the heir to the throne.’

‘No, My Lord,’ Sitt Hatun agreed. ‘He would never raise his hand against his son. But he might place his hands upon his son’s favourite wife.’

Mehmed’s eyes narrowed. ‘Careful, woman,’ he said, his voice hard and dangerous. ‘I will have your tongue if you speak false of Gülbehar.’

Sitt Hatun felt the blood drain from her face, but she did not hesitate. ‘I do not speak false, husband. I have seen your father in the bedchamber of Gülbehar with my own eyes. But I do not expect you to believe me, though I swear four times by Allah. I have brought proof.’ She took the
kumru kalp
from her robes and placed it before Mehmed.

Mehmed’s jaw tightened when he saw the ruby. He picked it up and his hand clenched white-knuckled around the stone. Mehmed stood suddenly, and Sitt Hatun feared that he might strike her. But instead he strode to his writing desk and placed the
kumru kalp
there. When he returned, his features were calm once more.

‘You are sure that my father does not know you are here?’ Mehmed asked. ‘He does not know that you have brought me the
kumru kalp
?’

‘Nobody knows,’ Sitt Hatun told him. ‘Only your stewardess of the harem.’

‘Good, then we shall keep it that way. You will stay in seclusion so long as you are here, served only by your maidservant and the stewardess.’ Sitt Hatun nodded. ‘You have performed a great
service,’ Mehmed continued. ‘You have my thanks, Sitt Hatun. How may I repay your loyalty?’

‘I have only done my duty as a wife, My Lord,’ Sitt Hatun replied. ‘And I only ask for my due as your wife.’

Mehmed studied her for a long time while Sitt Hatun sat breathless. Finally, he nodded his head. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Come.’ Mehmed took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains of Mehmed’s bed, highlighting the sleeping face of Sitt Hatun. She looked peaceful, a faint smile curling her lips. Gazing on her, Mehmed almost felt sorry for his long-neglected wife. Almost. For although he had enjoyed making love to Sitt Hatun, he already regretted lying with her. He had done so not just to reward her, but out of anger and spite, directed both at his father and at Gülbehar. He had allowed his passions to rule him, and he knew that there would be a price to pay. But there were other things on Mehmed’s mind as he rose from bed and padded across the soft carpet to his study. He picked up the
kumru kalp
by its golden chain and then hung it around his neck. He would wear the gem as a reminder of Gülbehar’s betrayal, a reminder never to trust his heart again.

There was little doubt in Mehmed’s mind that Sitt Hatun’s accusation was true. The
kumru kalp
never left Murad’s neck. It was one of his greatest treasures, a jewel that was said to have been worn by the Roman Empress Anna Comnena herself. Murad had seized it when he conquered Edirne and wore it always as a reminder of his greatest victory. He would never have given it to Sitt Hatun, much less to a mere
gedikli
. Only one woman could have led him to part with it: Gülbehar. Mehmed knew all too well the wild passions that she could spark. Besides, Sitt Hatun’s story only confirmed a hundred suspicions of Mehmed’s own. So this, he thought, was why his father had been so eager to send him away, why he had objected so strongly to Mehmed’s relationship with Gülbehar, why he had insisted that she stay in Edirne. Anger flared up inside Mehmed, and he gripped the gem
so tightly that its sharp edges cut into his hand. The old fool; did he really think that he could steal Mehmed’s own
kadin
? It was time that he taught his ageing father a lesson. It was time that he resumed his rightful place on the throne of the Ottoman Empire.

Mehmed moved from behind his desk to the cabinet on the wall. He opened it and removed the Koran. It fell open in his hands, and Mehmed read: ‘
Believers, vengeance is decreed for you in bloodshed: a free man for a free man, a slave for a slave, and a female for a female
.’ Surely a god that counselled a man for a man would also approve of a sultan for a sultana.

Mehmed placed the Koran aside and pressed the hidden latch that revealed the cabinet’s secret compartment. He slipped on a pair of tight leather gloves and then removed the box that Isa had brought him. He opened the box and took out the vial of poison. The liquid inside was slightly viscous, pale amber in the moonlight. Mehmed still did not know who had sent the poison, but he would deal with that detail later. For now, it only mattered what the poison could do. He would have his vengeance.

Chapter 10

MAY AND JUNE 1450: CONSTANTINOPLE

T
he ringing of church bells reached Sofia faintly as she strode through the palace to Constantine’s private audience chambers. The sombre tolling marked the end of mourning for the Empress-Mother Helena. Sofia wished that Helena were with her now, to stand by her as she faced Constantine. She had been expecting his summons since she returned to Constantinople the day before, and she dreaded what he would tell her. Was she still to be married, or would she be free?

Sofia entered the audience chamber to find Constantine seated on his throne, a neutral expression on his face. In his right hand he grasped a crumpled copy of the pope’s decree. Sofia curtsied before him, and he bid her rise.

‘Welcome home, Princess Sofia,’ Constantine said. ‘I have asked you here to discuss your mission to Italy. Leontarsis has told me that you were very much involved in the negotiations with the pope. Is this true?’

Sofia nodded. ‘Forgive me, My Lord, but Leontarsis is a clumsy politician. I thought that I might be more effective.’

‘Leontarsis was my appointed ambassador,’ Constantine said, his voice rising.

‘Even so, I was nearly successful,’ Sofia protested. ‘And I believe that we can still turn the situation to our advantage, if you only …’

Constantine gestured for her to be silent. ‘Your involvement
has already led to this!’ he roared, holding up the pope’s decree. ‘I promised my mother on her death-bed that I would enact union, but how can I now? Tell me: how can I!’ Then, recovering himself, he continued in an even tone. ‘You were sent to Italy to be seen, not heard, Sofia. I had hoped that Leontarsis would find you a husband who could offer us military support, but even that hope is gone.’

How could he reprimand her after all that she had done in Italy? Sofia bit back her anger. ‘I did my best to serve you faithfully, My Lord.’

‘You serve me best, Sofia, by playing the role of a princess, not a politician. You are lucky that Megadux Notaras is still willing to marry you. I have spoken to him about a date this summer. Until that time, you will do as I say. You are a lady, Sofia. You must behave like one. There will be no more swordplay and no more politicking. If you wish to study, then learn something pleasing: how to sing or play an instrument.’