Siege (23 page)

‘No, you will not recover, Father.’

‘And why is that?’

Mehmed pulled the
kumru kalp
out from under his caftan, and Murad’s eyes locked upon the jewel. Mehmed leaned closer to his father. ‘I know what you have done,’ Mehmed whispered. ‘And I have taken my revenge. You have been poisoned. The drug acts slowly, but it is fatal.’

Murad’s eyes opened wide, and Mehmed was pleased to think that he had been able to surprise his father, at least this once. ‘It is you,’ Murad said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘I have been killed by my own son.’

‘No, Father. You poisoned yourself the day you took Gülbehar to bed.’ Murad’s eyes were even wider now, practically bulging out of his head, but he did not speak. ‘Did you think that you could lie with Gülbehar without my knowledge?’ Mehmed demanded. ‘With my own favourite?’

Still, Murad did not reply, and Mehmed realized that it was not surprise, but an attack of apoplexy that had distorted his father’s features. Murad’s jaws were clenched now and his lips trembling. Spittle had collected at the corners of his mouth, and the veins at his temples were bulging. His body began to convulse, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Mehmed drew back from his father’s contorted body and waited until Murad had ceased his shaking and lay still. Then, Mehmed rose and called loudly: ‘A doctor! Bring the sultan’s doctor, quickly!’ The doctor put his head to Murad’s chest and then looked to Mehmed. When he spoke, he only confirmed what Mehmed knew to be true.

‘He is dead,’ he told Mehmed. ‘You are the sultan now, My Lord.’

Two weeks later, Mehmed was girded for the second time in his life with the great sword in the mosque of Eyub and proclaimed Mehmed Khan II, Seventh Sovereign of the House of Osman, Khan of Khans, Grand Sultan of Anatolia and Rumelia, Emperor of the Two Cities of Adrianople and Brusa, Lord of the Two Lands and the Two Seas. Afterwards, he rode to the palace for his first official audience as sultan. Before making his entrance, he paused and watched his subjects through a curtain. Emirs, beys and pashas from every corner of the empire stood in the grand hall of the palace, waiting to pay homage to him and to take his measure. To Mehmed’s right, Murad’s ministers stood wringing
their hands; to his left, Murad and Mehmed’s wives stood veiled and quiet. A dozen janissaries surrounded the imperial divan, separating it from the mass of people. Mehmed took one last look and then stepped through the curtain and into the hall. At once, the assembled men and women fell silent. The only noise was the whisper of silk as the crowd filling the hall bowed low before their new sultan.

Mehmed’s heart beat violently, but he kept his head held high and his pace measured as he walked to the imperial divan, knowing that hundreds of pairs of eyes were watching his every step. He wore a white turban and robes of rose-red silk decorated with intricate patterns in gold. His black beard had been cut short, and he looked in every respect the sultan as he reclined upon the divan, propping himself up on his left elbow. Mehmed knew that many in the audience had not seen him since the last time he took the throne, seven years ago as a beardless child of twelve. He would show them all that he was no longer a child. He would show them that he knew how to rule as a sultan must.

He motioned for the crowd to rise and then turned first to his father’s ministers. ‘You may take your usual places,’ he told them, motioning for them to be seated. Their collective sigh of relief was almost audible as they sat on a row of cushions, each cushion indicating their respective place as minister within the sultan’s
divan
. They need not have worried. They had served his father well, and Mehmed had need of their experience. He would allow them to prove their loyalty. And, if any proved unfaithful, then Mehmed’s spies would inform him, and the traitors would be beheaded. Mehmed doubted that more than one minister would conspire against him. A beheading was a most instructive example.

Next, Mehmed named the viziers of the empire, calling them before the throne one by one. As they were called, each man stepped forward in turn and bowed low. ‘Halil Pasha, Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire,’ Mehmed began, confirming Halil in his place. Mehmed still resented Halil’s role in calling Murad back to the throne years ago, but there was no doubting the
grand vizier’s usefulness. To moderate Halil’s influence, Mehmed named two of his rivals, Saruja Pasha and Zaganos Pasha, as assistant viziers. Finally, he confirmed as Chief Eunuch and Assistant Vizier Shehab ed-Din, his one remaining confidant from his earlier brief rule.

Mehmed turned now to the women of the harem and beckoned them to step forward. Sitt Hatun came first, offering her condolences for his father’s death and congratulating him on his ascendance to the throne. Gülbehar followed, and Mehmed had to concentrate to keep the impassive face of a sultan when greeting her. After his own wives, came the widows of Murad: first his newest wife, the childless Christian Mara of Serbia, whom Mehmed ordered sent back to her father; and then Hadije, Murad’s favourite and the mother of his youngest son. She was young, younger even than Mehmed, and she cried as she spoke, her voice trembling and broken. Mehmed wondered if the tears were for her deceased husband, or if she already knew the fate of her son. For even as he accepted Hadije’s condolences and compliments, Mehmed’s servants were in the harem, drowning her young son Ahmet in his bath. Mehmed bore the boy no hatred, but he was a possible rival for the throne, and as such, had to die.

Finally, Mehmed turned to the mass of nobles in the hall. ‘Emirs, beys, pashas – lords of the empire, you have my thanks for your presence here today,’ he began. ‘You served my father well, and I too will have need of your service soon enough. For I swear to you now on the holy Koran that as your sultan, I will not rest until the city of Constantinople falls before me. There will be riches and glory for all who fight beside me. Together, we will grind to dust those who have defied us for far too long. Together, we shall conquer for ourselves a new capital for a new, golden age!’

Murmurs of approval ran through the crowd. A few voices, then dozens, and finally all the hundreds present joined together to shout again and again: ‘Hail Mehmed, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire!’

Sitt Hatun sat in the harem garden, enjoying the sunshine on an unseasonably warm late winter day. Anna was with her and between them lay Sitt Hatun’s one-month-old son, Selim. Sitt Hatun cooed at the child, who giggled back. She could still hardly believe that less than a year earlier she had left Edirne as an outcast, fleeing for her life. Now she was an
ikbal
– mother to a male heir. No matter that Sitt Hatun did not know if Selim’s father was Mehmed or Halil. Selim was hers, and one day he would be sultan.

Loud shouting echoed down from Gülbehar’s apartments above the garden, and Sitt Hatun smiled. Gülbehar was not dealing with her fall from favour well, and her distress was another source of contentment for Sitt Hatun. Just now, Gülbehar was screaming furiously, and Sitt Hatun could make out a few words here and there: ‘Incompetence! Spoiled brat!’ and then a climactic, ‘Get out, all of you!’ There was a series of slamming doors, and then silence.

A moment later, one of Gülbehar’s
odalisques
appeared in the garden, carrying a bawling Bayezid. The
odalisque
looked Russian: a pale girl, no older than fourteen, with dark auburn hair. She went to a row of evergreen bushes not far from Sitt Hatun and sat behind them. After a moment, Bayezid’s crying stopped and was replaced by the muffled sobbing of the Russian girl. Sitt Hatun felt for the girl, and for Bayezid, who bore the brunt of Gülbehar’s disappointment. Perhaps by befriending them, Sitt Hatun reflected, she could help both them and herself. It would be useful to have allies in Gülbehar’s household.

Sitt Hatun motioned for her servants to remain where they were, then rose and went to the
odalisque
, who looked away as she wiped at her tears. Bayezid was nearby, huddled in a small space between two bushes. Sitt Hatun sat down on the grass near the nurse. Bayezid peeked out furtively. He was a precious child, with the fair skin and light hair of his mother and the distinctive nose of his father. His left cheek was bruised bluish-black.

‘Hello, young prince,’ Sitt Hatun said.

‘Hello,’ the boy replied.

‘You are not to speak to him,’ the boy’s nurse warned Sitt Hatun. She glanced towards Gülbehar’s apartments. ‘I should not be seen with you. Please go!’

Sitt Hatun remained seated. ‘Gülbehar does not treat you well, does she?’ Sitt Hatun asked. She reached out and gently touched the nurse’s arm. ‘You or the boy?’

The nurse turned away, fresh tears in her eyes. ‘I am her servant. I cannot speak ill of her. I should not speak to you at all. My Lady says you are dangerous.’

‘Do I look dangerous?’ Sitt Hatun asked softly. The young nurse shook her head. ‘I am a mother, too,’ Sitt Hatun told her. ‘It pains me to see young Bayezid suffer.’

‘My Lady says that if Selim becomes sultan, you will send men to kill Bayezid.’

‘That is nonsense,’ Sitt Hatun assured the girl. Bayezid would indeed probably be killed when Selim took the throne, but Sitt Hatun would have little to do with it. ‘I swear to you that I will never harm the child. Not everyone in the harem is as heartless as Gülbehar.’

‘She is a monster,’ the girl spat with surprising vehemence. ‘She hits Bayezid and treats her servants even worse. I can live with the beatings, but Bayezid is only a child.’ A door slammed in Gülbehar’s apartments, and the Russian girl froze. ‘You must go,’ she whispered. ‘I must not be seen with you.’

‘I understand,’ Sitt Hatun told her. ‘But first, tell me: what is your name, girl?’

‘Kacha, My Lady.’

‘I know how hard it must be for you, Kacha. If you ever have need of a friend, then my quarters are always open to you. Bayezid will be welcome, too. The boy should have a place where he feels safe from his mother.’

‘But how, My Lady?’ Kacha asked. ‘Gülbehar would never allow it.’

‘She need never know. There is a secret passage that connects
your apartments to mine. Tell me, which room is Bayezid’s?’ Kacha pointed to a window above them. ‘That is perfect,’ Sitt Hatun said. ‘Here is what you must do. Go to the wall of his room away from the window. The wall is decorated with animals carved from wood. Find the lion and press its head. A door will open.’ Kacha nodded. ‘Be sure to close the door behind you, so that you are not followed. The passage will be dark. Follow it until you come to a flight of stairs. They will take you down to the harem kitchen. Cross the kitchen and take the central passage on the far wall. It leads directly to my bedroom. Knock like this when you reach the end.’ Sitt Hatun mimed two knocks, a pause, and then three knocks.

‘I understand,’ Kacha said. ‘Thank you, My Lady.’

‘It is nothing. You may be a slave here, but that does not mean that you should not be treated with kindness.’ Sitt Hatun squeezed Kacha’s shoulder, then rose and returned to Selim and Anna. A moment later, Gülbehar stormed into the garden.

‘Kacha! What are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘Bring Bayezid here at once!’ Gülbehar gave Sitt Hatun a venomous look and then turned and strode away, followed by Kacha with Bayezid. Sitt Hatun gathered up Selim and also left.

She entered her apartments to find Halil’s secretary, Davarnza, waiting for her. He produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to Sitt Hatun. It was a note from Halil. He was coming to the harem to meet with her, tonight.

Sitt Hatun sat on her bed, watching the full moon reflect off the Maritza river as it flowed past the palace. She had sent her servants to their quarters hours earlier, keeping only Anna by her side. They sat waiting for Halil, and Sitt Hatun thought back to that other night when they had sat together in the dark, waiting for Isa to come and rescue them. She thought of Cicek’s death and of her night with Halil. She shuddered as she remembered the cold touch of his hand.

There was a quiet knocking on the hidden door that led to the servants’ walkway and down into the harem kitchen. Two knocks,
and that was all. Anna rose and opened the door. Halil stepped through into the chamber. He was wrapped in women’s clothing and his face was veiled, but Sitt Hatun recognized him immediately from his pale-grey eyes.

‘Good evening, Sitt Hatun,’ Halil said in his smooth, oily voice as he removed the veil. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me. We have much to talk about.’ He nodded towards Anna. ‘I would prefer to speak in private.’

‘I have no secrets from her,’ Sitt Hatun said. ‘Say what you have come to say, Halil, and be gone.’

‘Straight to business: a trait I remember all too well from our last encounter,’ Halil said. ‘Very well then. I wish to discuss our son’s future. You know that Mehmed is preparing to besiege Constantinople. Warfare is a dangerous business, and if the sultan were to die, then the succession would be disputed between Bayezid and our Selim. I am sure you realize that if Bayezid were to become sultan, then our precious child would be murdered.’

‘But Gülbehar is out of favour, and you are the grand vizier,’ Sitt Hatun said. ‘Surely it would be Selim who takes the throne.’

‘Yes, but I cannot be sure. We would be more secure if there were no disputed succession, if Bayezid were removed beforehand.’

‘You mean murdered,’ Sitt Hatun accused. ‘He is only a boy.’

‘But he is a dangerous boy. And after all, when Selim becomes sultan, Bayezid will be killed anyway as a matter of course. Why not act now? It would be an easy enough matter for you or your servants. I could provide you with certain poisons that would make it painless.’

Sitt Hatun thought of young Bayezid, his trusting golden eyes, and shook her head. ‘No, I will not have any part in the child’s death, and I want no more of your plotting, Halil.’ She would deal with Bayezid in her own way. ‘We had an agreement, and that agreement is over,’ Sitt Hatun continued. ‘I have done my part. I will have nothing more to do with this intrigue, or with you.’ She turned her back to him. ‘You may go now.’