Early Friday afternoon Aidan found herself taking part in the customary bridal bath, a tradition for those chosen to share the sultan’s couch for the first time. Escorted by Nur-U-Banu and the bas kadin she led a procession consisting of every young woman in the harem to the baths. The sultan valideh and the kadins were attired in rich brocaded garments, but the rest of the women wore simple white silk robes, and each one carried a yellow tulip.
When they reached the baths Aidan was turned over to the head bath mistress by the valideh. The other women of the harem lined themselves about the room, standing against the walls, and sang a song that wished Aidan joy and good fortune in her chosen fate. At the conclusion of their melody the maidens of the harem flung their flowers at Aidan, and then turning as one they all trooped out. Nur-U-Banu kissed Aidan on the cheek, and then she and the kadins departed the room.
It seemed rather funny to Aidan that she was to be bathed again as if she had never been bathed at all over these last few days. There wasn’t a single superfluous hair upon her body but for her head yet they smeared her with the almond-smelling pink paste that removed hair, and she was surprised to see a fine down wash away. Her hair was washed as it had been washed at least once a day since her return to the Yeni Serai, and then it was rinsed with lemon juice to encourage its fiery highlights. Her fingernails and her toenails were pared and shaped, the toes much shorter lest she offend the Shadow of Allah by inadvertently scratching him. She flushed as she had flushed twice daily in the baths as she was laid upon her back upon a marble massage bench, and her private parts delicately bathed first with warm water, then a mild mixture of soap and water, and finally with a gentle rinse of warmed water again.
She was massaged over her entire body with fragrant lotion, and not an inch of her skin was left untouched. The supple hands of the masseuse kneaded her arms and her legs, dug into the muscles of her back, smoothed over her torso, and skillfully manipulated her breasts until the nipples stood hard and throbbed. She knew that she should be used to it by now, but such treatment, however pleasant, embarrassed her.
At last she was deemed fit for the sultan, and she was wrapped in a white silk robe, placed in a litter, and returned to her apartments to await the evening when she would be escorted by Ilban Bey to Murad. The heat of the baths, and the hour spent beneath the hands of the masseuse had exhausted her. She felt weak and helpless and depressed.
Marta hurried forward to help her from the litter. The serving woman had been returned unharmed two days prior, and she told Aidan and the others of what had happened after her mistress had departed for the city to fetch Esther Kira back. She had seen that the prince arose, and fetched him light refreshment, and had then helped him to dress. He had left her to go to the stables, and that was the last she had seen of him. She had been going about her usual morning duties, seeing to the bed, when the Tartars had burst into the harem. At first she believed she would be raped, and murdered, but instead she had been carried off, the only survivor of the raid, thrown rudely across the saddle of one of her captors. She had seen the courtyard filled with the decapitated bodies of the other servants, seen the piles of heads by the gate; and then fainted. When she regained consciousness she found herself seated before her captor on his galloping horse, and they had ridden without stopping until well after dark. When they had finally stopped it was to fix a meal and see to their horses. She knew now that she had been carried off so that they might take their pleasure of her at their leisure, and she was frightened. Fortunately the sultan’s Janissaries had ridden in to slay the Tartars before she might be harmed, and she had been rescued.
Both Aidan and Marta’s daughters had welcomed her back warmly. She was not dear familiar Mag, thought Aidan, but she was a loyal servant. Even now she gently aided her mistress to her couch saying, “You need some food in your stomach, my lady. You missed the midday meal and you look positively pale.”
Aidan said nothing. She knew that Marta was enormously relieved that they were safe in the Yeni Serai, and pleased that the sultan had chosen her mistress to grace his bed. Marta had liked the prince, but her practical peasant nature told her that Javid Khan was dead, and they had to live. “I could eat some fruit,” Aidan told the serving woman to be amenable.
The lady Marjallah’s wish was their command, and a platter of luscious fruits was instantly produced. Aidan ate an apricot, and then lay back, her eyes closed, feigning sleep so that they would not fuss at her to eat more. She was beginning to feel more and more like a prize brood animal, and it annoyed her. If only she had been enceinte with Javid Khan’s child then perhaps she might have escaped the sultan.
It disturbed her that since the loss of her baby almost a year ago that she had not conceived again, but then she questioned herself, had she really wanted to have a child by someone other than Conn? She had been forced to accept the situation in which she found herself, but even Javid Khan’s marriage with her had not, in her heart of hearts, been a real marriage. She had accepted it as she had accepted him, believing that she had no other choice for they were always telling her that she didn’t. Aidan hadn’t known what to expect for this whole world was foreign to her. The prince had been a good man, and because she knew that he had honored her by freeing her and making her his wife she had called him
husband.
He had said he loved her, and she had had no doubts that he did. The sultan, however, was a different matter.
She couldn’t be certain if the story the sultan’s mother told her about his obligations toward her was truth or simply a tale spun to gain her cooperation because Murad lusted after her. If it was truth then she wanted to free him of his obligation. The prince had made her a free woman, and come what may she wanted to return home. She did not want to remain in the Yeni Serai, a victim to the sultan’s passions. Yet here she was, pampered and perfumed, and awaiting the evening when she was to be brought to Murad. She didn’t know what to do other than tell him how she felt, and hope that he would release her. If he would not, Aidan thought, she would find a way to kill herself for she had no intention of remaining here the rest of her life.
Oh, Conn,
she thought,
I want to come home! I want to come home!
“Home,” Conn said quietly. “I want to bring my wife home. My sister’s bankers in London told me that you could help me, madame. If you cannot, then I shall find someone who can.”
Esther Kira sighed. “No one, my lord, can help you retrieve your wife. She is in the sultan’s harem. My nephew in London had no right to tell you that I could aid you.” Then her voice softened at the disappointment in his face, and she said, “If you had come just a few days ago, my lord, I might have considered helping you, but now I cannot. The success of my family is tightly entwined with that of the imperial Ottoman dynasty. To help you I should have to betray them, and I cannot do it, my lord. You English believe strongly in your honor, do you not? Well, I, too, have my honor.”
“If you would have been willing to aid me a few days ago, madame, why not now?” he demanded.
Esther Kira seated herself comfortably upon her divan, and called to her servants for coffee and little honey-sesame cakes. Then she set about to explain to Conn his wife’s history since her arrival in Istanbul. She finished by saying, “Now that the sultan desires her it is a different matter, but tell me, my lord. If you want your wife back why did you wait so long to come after her? She has been here for over eight months.”
“And we have been caught in Algiers ever since last September,” said Conn, and then he went on to explain to Esther Kira the sultan’s punishment against the countries of Europe who had fought against him with the Portuguese.
“Aiiii,” said the matriarch shaking her head, “it is as if the fates themselves have conspired against you. I am so sorry, my lord Bliss, but there is nothing I can do now to help you.”
“I cannot leave without her,” Conn said stubbornly. “I will not leave without her. She is the only woman that I have ever loved, will ever love!”
“It is strange,” said Esther Kira, “but she has that effect upon men. Prince Javid Khan adored her, even going as far as to free her from slavery, and make her his wife. And the sultan, whose harem is filled to overflowing with beauteous virgins, has coveted her ever since he saw her, and would have had her these months past but that his mother had convinced him to give the dey’s gift to Prince Javid Khan, sight unseen. When he saw her he greatly regretted it. It is strange for the lady Marjallah is not a beautiful woman, and the sultan is proud of the fact that his harem contains more beautiful women than any potentate’s on this earth.” She chuckled softly. “Beauty, however, fades, and if one has naught else to recommend oneself then what is left? Perhaps Sultan Murad is, at long last, growing sated with beauty, and seeks a woman of substance. Marjallah has great character.”
“Twice you have used the name Marjallah,” said Conn. “Who is Marjallah ?”
“Marjallah is the name your wife was given when she arrived here. You could not expect they would call her by her English name. Marjallah means
A Gift from the Sea,
and she did indeed come across the sea to us.”
“Esther Kira,” said Conn, “have pity on me. I do not ask you to break faith with the sultan and his family for I do indeed understand your position ; but Sultan Murad has a harem full of women, and I have but one wife. There must be some way in which you can help me.”
The old woman pursed her lips, and he could see that she was considering his words. Thoughtfully she looked at him. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, and she found it interesting that such an attractive man would be married to Marjallah. She had no doubt as to his sincerity for she had not survived so long in her world without the ability of being able to read a person’s character correctly. She could see the pain in his green eyes, hear the sorrow in his voice. He obviously loved his wife, and really did want her back. It did not seem to disturb him that she had cohabited with another man, or was in danger of finding herself in the sultan’s bed shortly. He wanted her back. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “perhaps there is a way,
but
I do not promise you, my lord. I only say perhaps. Do you understand me? It is but a slim chance, and only that.”
“Tell me ?” he begged her.
“No,” she answered him, “I must first consider how to go about it, and I do not want to share my thoughts with anyone. Would you understand me if I told you my luck is in not revealing my plans on anything I undertake to anyone until I am certain those plans will work?”
“Yes,” he said, “I understand that,” and for the first time he smiled, and Esther Kira thought again that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.
“Where are you staying, my lord?”
“You will be able to reach me at the palace of the English ambassador,” he said. “My wife was a ward of her majesty before we were wed, and the queen is very fond of Aidan. As she has an interest in this matter, her embassy is open to me.”
“If your queen is so concerned then why did she not approach the Sublime Porte herself?” demanded Esther Kira.
“I think you know the answer to that,” replied Conn. “It is important that England build its trade with the Levant to counter Spain’s hold over the new world. Trade is the lifeblood of my nation. As fond as Elizabeth Tudor is of Aidan she would not jeopardize the trading agreements of an entire nation for one person.”
Esther Kira nodded. “Be certain,” she warned him, “that both you, and those of your party are discreet in your dealing about the city. There is little that the sultan does not know about. There are spies everywhere. The sultan’s spies, his mother’s, those of his heir’s mother, his other favorites, the vizier’s, not to mention those of rival nations to your England. Trust no one, and draw no attention to yourselves lest the sultan learn the true nature of your business. I will contact you when I know if what I am considering is possible, or not possible. Perhaps you might even leave Istanbul for a short time to seek goods elsewhere. Sail across the Mamara, and go to Brusa for silk. It is not far, and it will look as if you have no real purpose here but that of trade. It will take me at least a week or more before I can know if my plans are workable.”
“We shall do it,” he agreed, for he thought that if he remained here in Istanbul he would be sorely tempted to storm the sultan’s great palace, and rescue his wife, and that was a foolish notion.
“Good!” said Esther Kira. “You show common sense, yet I know it cannot be easy for you. Now should anyone ask why you came to see me you will tell them that your family banks with mine.”
“Of course,” he said, “and it is the truth, isn’t it?”
She cackled a sharp bark of laughter. “So,” she said, “you have learned that the best deception is the truth, my lord? You are, I think, a dangerous man.”
“And you,” he answered her with a smile, “are no better, Esther Kira. You hide behind the reputation for weakness of your sex, but you are a tough old spider who sits firmly in the center of a strong web. You are totally in control.”
“I must be,” she said, suddenly serious, “for I am that most despised of creatures, both a woman and a Jewess.”
“Was not Jesus a Jew?” he said as he arose from the pillows.
She nodded slowly, and her eyes met his in a glance of total understanding. “You will hear from me, Lord Bliss,” she said.
“Thank you, madame,” he answered formally, “and farewell for now.”
She watched him go from the room, and the door closed behind him. He was a strong man for one so very young, and she had no doubt that should her plan not be possible, that he would somehow find a way of retrieving his wife even if it meant turning the Ottoman dynasty upside down. She liked him, and she was beginning to see why Marjallah had mourned him in her heart all these months. Poor Marjallah. Although she had been kept from the girl the past several days she had seen Safiye in her apartments, and learned that Javid Khan’s widow would be presented to the sultan for his pleasure this night. Would she yield, or would she fight her fate? Esther Kira was concerned for her young friend.