“He is obsessed with Marjallah,” the valideh complained to Esther Kira. “No other woman will do now. At least it is not as bad as it was with Safiye for Marjallah despises the sultan. She will not use him so shamefully to her own ends as did the bas kadin use my son.”
“Not now, perhaps,” replied Esther Kira. “She has yet to accept my lord Murad, but once she recovers from her depression, and realizes she has no other choice but to give herself body and soul to his majesty, what do you think will happen, my dear friend? I can tell you! She is intelligent, and she will strive to have a child, a son if possible. Having borne that son will she be satisfied to see him destroyed by any of his elder brothers? She will not! She will fight for her son as would any natural mother. She will buy and she will win allies against Safiye who is not particularly liked among the other women of the harem. She may even win Sultan Murad away from Safiye entirely which I know will not displease you, but think, my dear friend! Think of at what price!
“If Marjallah gains the sultan’s love at Safiye’s expense, she will influence him to choose her son over Safiye’s. There will be war in the harem, war in the divan, and even war within the empire as these two princesses fight for possession of the mantle of Defender of the Faith. The Janissaries will become involved, and who knows which way they will swing. Both the black eunuchs and the white eunuchs will take sides, and we both know they never take the same side. Did not Javid Khan free Marjallah? What a pity the sultan does not simply let her return to her homeland.”
Esther Kira’s words gave Nur-U-Banu food for thought. The old woman had ever been a good friend of the royal family, and so the sultan valideh never even considered the possibility that she had a motive other than the Ottoman welfare. Nur-U-Banu thought of how she had discouraged Marjallah from even attempting to return to her homeland, and she felt guilty, but what else could she do? She loved her son, and Murad had been determined to have the woman. She sighed. For once she was at a loss to find a simple solution to a problem, and as each day passed Murad became more enamored of the woman who disdained him so.
She was now a raging fever in his blood. Murad had allowed Aidan four days to recover herself, and then he had called for her again. Learning from his first experience with her he had decided to change his tactics. Harshly forcing her to his will was not the answer. She was far too strong-willed a woman, and he knew that she really would die rather than give him too easy a victory. He intended to win her over, but at the same time he intended that she should understand that he was the master.
It was the sultan’s habit to spend the morning attending to the business of his empire, and among the creative and intellectual men of his court. His afternoons, however, were always spent in the harem. Murad had given orders that the opiates being used to control the lady Marjallah be discontinued. He wanted her fully cognizant and clearheaded when they met, and he anxiously awaited her arrival, smiling welcomingly as she was escorted into the room by the agha kislar. She wore a beautiful gold embroidered caftan of peach-colored silk, and her marvelous hair was loose about her shoulders. There were faintly purple smudges of shadows about her gray eyes, and she was unsmiling.
The sultan took her hand saying, “I have missed you, my exquisite Marjallah. Each day without your sweet presence has been like a year. Each night without you, a century.”
“The night I spent with you seemed more like a thousand years in hell, my lord,” she answered him coldly.
Murad waved Ilban Bey from the room even as the agha opened his mouth to reprimand Marjallah. Then the sultan looked deeply into her eyes, and said, “I am going to say to you something I have rarely said to anyone in my lifetime, Marjallah. I am sorry, my exquisite one. I am not used to being defied by anyone, and you angered me very much the other night. Angered me so greatly that I foolishly sought to cruelly force you to my desires. In doing so I hurt and frightened you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I will say no more on it. We will begin anew, but one thing you must understand about me is that I am your master, and I will not abdicate that part of myself to any woman. You will obey me as do all my women. I will try, however, never to ask of you that which will hurt you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord,” she answered him tonelessly.
“Good,” he said, “and from now on, Marjallah, each time you enter this bedchamber you will remove your garments. I have already told you that you have the most flawless, and the most beautiful body I have ever seen on any woman. I want to enjoy that beauty whenever we are together like this.”
Aidan unbuttoned the pearl buttons that fastened her caftan, and then drew the garment over her head, tossing the silk onto a chair. “As my lord wishes,” she said.
He smiled. “Very good.” Reaching into his pocket he drew forth a small pouch of black silk, and opening it poured into his hand two little silver balls. “Have you ever seen anything like these?” he asked her.
“No, my lord. What are they?”
“They’re to give you pleasure, my exquisite one. They will give your passionate nature a fine edge whenever you are with me. The balls are hollow. Inside one is a tiny drop of mercury. Inside the other a minute little tongue of silver. Lie back upon the bed, and allow me to place them within your sweet passage. Then you will see what happens. ”
Aidan was beyond caring. Normally she would have questioned such a thing, but now it didn’t matter if she lived or died, and so she didn’t care what he did to her. Obediently she lay upon the bed, opening her legs to him. Carefully Murad inserted the two little silver balls inside her, gently pushing them into position. Just touching her in so intimate a manner aroused him, but he successfully fought back his own lust, and drew her back up from her prone position. “Now,” he said, “walk about the bedchamber, and tell me what you feel.”
She walked away from him, but scarcely had she gone a few steps than she began to feel as she did just before the marvelous melting feeling that always accompanied her passion with both Conn and Javid Khan. Startled she stopped, but then believing she had only imagined such a thing she then continued on across the large room. The feeling had not been imagined! Standing on her feet she found herself shuddering with passion.
“Oh God!” she exclaimed surprised, and then she turned to look at the sultan. “What have you done to me?”
“Only given you pleasure,” he said softly, and then he said in an ordinary conversational tone, “Do you play chess, Marjallah?”
She nodded.
Murad called the ever-present black eunuchs, and the chess table was brought. Perhaps, thought Aidan, sitting down would ease the terrible, but wonderful feelings of desire which hinted of greater fulfillment with her every movement. They played, and Aidan played badly for she could not escape the building hunger within her. The sultan watched her, the amusement in his eyes veiled, for he did not want to offend her knowing as he did that he was far from winning her over.
Finally Aidan could stand no more, and unthinking she leapt from her chair. Her eyes were filled with tears. “Please,” she pleaded with him, “please take them out! I am dying from desire!”
“Taking them out,” he said “will not give you the surcease that you need. Only I can do that, Marjallah. If you will agree to yield to me willingly then I shall remove them. ”
“And if I do not?” she whispered defiantly.
He smiled pleasantly. “Then they remain, my exquisite one. Shall we play another game? We seem to have reached an impasse with this one.”
“Does it make no difference to you that I despise you?” she asked him. “What kind of man are you?” She felt suddenly very angry.
“I am a powerful man, and no, it makes no difference to me at all that you despise me. You will not always despise me. One day you will find that you are in love with me for love is the other side of hate.” He stood up, and imperiously offered her a hand. “Come!” he said, and he led her across the room to the huge, canopied bed.
Each step they took was an agony to her. She had to get those damned little balls removed! She had to have relief! She could bear no more, and when they had reached the bed a whimper escaped her lips.
“Well,” said the sultan. “The decision is yours, Marjallah, and whatever it is you decide I will abide by it, but remember that until you yield to me, the balls remain in the sweet darkness of your tight little passage.”
“Take them out!” Her voice was almost a scream.
“You will give yourself to me willingly?”
“Yes!” She was beginning to tremble, her legs buckling beneath her. If those devilish little silver spheres banged together inside her helpless body one more time, she was going to go totally mad!
“Lie back, Marjallah, and I will remove them,” he said to her. Carefully, so as not to jostle the tiny instruments of her torture any further, Aidan lay back upon the bed, and opened her legs to him. The sultan knelt, but seeing her tempting pink flesh was unable to stop himself from leaning forward, and tonguing her with slow, sensuous strokes. Her body jerked in surprise, and she screamed as passion knifed her sharply. Realizing the cruelty he was inflicting upon her, Murad reached into her aching body with his slender fingers, and withdrew the tiny silver balls, one at a time. Then he kissed her swollen and throbbing little bud.
“Forgive me, exquisite one,” he said raising his head from her. “I did not intend to cause you further pain, but I could not resist that which was so sweetly offered to me.” The sultan stood up, and slowly drew off his own comfortable, loose chamber robe of plum-colored silk. Settling himself contentedly in the center of the huge bed he said to her, “It is the custom for a woman coming to me for the first time to enter my bed from the foot, and crawl up to me. You did not follow the custom the last time you were with me. It would please me if you would do so now. When you have shown me your new and properly pleasing obedience, Marjallah, then will I relieve your magnificent body of the excruciating agony it is now suffering. You will obtain no real relief from your distress until I give it.” There was no menace in his words, no threatening or bullying tone. His bland voice merely offered her plain fact.
Aidan’s pride warred with her aching body. In that moment she would have killed him had she the means, but her pain finally won the battle she fought, and sliding from her place on the edge of the great bed she stumbled to its foot, and facedown, upon her belly, crawled up the emerald-green silk coverlet to crouch at his feet.
The sultan purred with approval. “Verrrry good, exquisite one! Now I give you leave to come farther, and you may kiss my feet and my legs as you move forward.”
One part of her was totally and utterly shocked by her easy acquiescence, but the other part of her reminded her that only when she had pleased him fully would he give her relief from the painful tension that racked her hapless body. The quicker she obeyed him, the sooner would she be free of her agony. Mindlessly Aidan straddled the sultan, and began kissing first his feet, and then she moved up his long, slim legs pressing feathery kisses alternately upon each limb. When she came abreast of his groin he reached down with a hand, and lifting his heavy, long manhood he held it out to her. Aidan shuddered, and raising her head looked pleadingly at him. Murad’s eyes bore mercilessly into her silently commanding her. Tears spilling from her eyes down her cheeks she bowed her head, and took him in her mouth.
The sultan leaned back against the soft pile of pillows, and sighed with pleasure, his languid dark eyes partly closed in a half-ecstasy. Reaching out his hand he tangled his fingers in her thick, coppery hair, and kneading at her scalp encouraged her onward. “Use your tongue beneath the edge of the knob, Marjallah,” he said, his voice thick. “Ahhh, Allah! Your mouth was made for such work!” he shuddered. “Enough, now, exquisite one, lest you unman me too soon. Come, and give me your lips.”
She released her hold upon him, and he drew her up to take her mouth in a fiery kiss. He ran his lips along hers kissing and licking at them, and then he said, “Open your sweet mouth to receive my tongue, fair slave,” and she obeyed him, sucking vigorously upon his tongue as she had only moments before performed upon his manhood. One arm about her waist, his other hand began to play with her large breasts. Squeezing them lovingly he then pinched the nipples hard, sending a bolt of desire into her very core where she already ached with more hunger than she had ever believed a woman could.
Tearing her head away from his she whimpered, “Please, my lord! Please give me relief!”
“How impatient you are, exquisite one,” he scolded her gently. “Have I not warned you that I am the master? It is the master who decides the time, not the slave. What a hard lesson that seems to be for you to learn.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” she begged him. Dear God, why would he not give her release? Had he not promised it her? The burning, throbbing, aching pain seemed to grow within her vitals with each passing minute.
Murad could see the panic in her eyes, and realizing the total power he held over the object of his desire aroused him even more than she herself already had. “Of course I forgive you,” he began soothingly, “but it would not be right if I did not punish you, Marjallah. It is most important that you learn perfect obedience. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, my lord,” she answered him, her voice shaking. What would he do to her now?
The sultan called one of the black eunuchs to him, and whispered something to the man while Aidan, having been put gently to one side sat downcast. The eunuch hurried out of the room, and they sat in silence, the sultan contemplating her beauty of form, Aidan now feeling ignored, and her pain building once more as he scorned to soothe her with his touch. She tried to focus her glance upon the room itself.
The last time she had been in it it had been night, and she had hardly been interested in the decor of the place. Now she tried to take her mind from her fear and her pain by concentrating on something else. They had come down the Golden Road into the Sultan’s Hall where a door upon the far wall opened into the sultan’s apartment. In her months in Turkey Aidan had gained a small knowledge of tiles having had to see to the repair of the fountains, and several other places in Javid Khan’s palace. The walls of the sultan’s bedchamber were lined with fine Iznik tiles done in a floral pattern. The lower range of tiles was all of the same coloring. Blues and reds upon a white background with borders in which the deep, rich red predominated. The upper and lower sections of the wall were divided by a frieze of dark blue tiles upon which were written in white lettering verses from the Koran. The most beautiful tiles in the room, however, were those above the fireplace surrounding the cone-shaped bronze chimneypiece. On that curvaceous panel were sprays of tiny plum blossoms stretching upward upon a deep blue background.