A Love for All Time (48 page)

Aidan laughed, and it was a sound of genuine, if rueful amusement. “Would you be surprised, my lady Safiye, if I told you that a year ago at this time I was practically as innocent as the twelve-year-old maid you once were? My mother and sisters died when I was only ten, and from that time on my father kept me close to his side. We lived in the country, and my father never went to court. Then suddenly he was dead, and I found that he had entrusted the queen with not only my care, but with the task of finding me a husband as well which was something that he had neglected to do. I had not minded for I enjoyed being with my father, and found him the most interesting of men.

“But he was gone, and the queen, who is a wonderful woman, took me under her wing, and made a place for me amongst her maids of honor. It was she who matched me with my husband.”

“And you grew to love him,” said Safiye. “How fortunate that was for you, but now, Marjallah, that life is over. You are in the same position that I was sixteen years ago. Believe me when I tell you that to your husband you are now dead. It is what happens when a Christian woman is taken into the empire. To her family she is a dead woman. You cannot go back, and so it is best to face that, and make a new life with Prince Javid Khan.”

“It would not be that way with Conn and me,” Aidan protested. “It wouldn’t! Our love is a special love; a love that will always be.”

“Of course it will!” agreed Safiye, “but that love is finished, Marjallah. Think of it as you would a new year.

“Oh, my new friend, tonight you will be given to an attractive, and virile man. When he sees how lovely you are he will waste no time in taking you to his bed. If you loved your husband then you enjoyed the sweetness that two people make between them. Will you deny yourself that sweetness with the prince? By now your family has given you up for lost, and who knows that your husband is not already consoling himself with a new wife. You were not wed long, and men must have sons! That is a woman’s reality. Your husband has already made his new start. Now you must make yours. If you returned to your old world you would not be welcomed. You would be considered declassed. You would be called whore, or worse. If he loved you as you say he did, then your husband would want you to be happy as he is now undoubtedly happy.”

Aidan was devastated by the bas kadin’s words because she had understood exactly what the beautiful Venetian was saying to her. She felt drained of all emotion as she realized that Safiye was probably totally correct.
Never to see Conn again? Never to feel his touch, his kiss?
The thought pained her and her hand flew to her mouth, but not before a sharp moan escaped her lips. Dear sweet Jesu! How could she go on living? How could she even
be
without Conn? She had never truly known what happiness was until she had become his wife. Tears of anguish slid down her pale cheeks, and her entire being ached with the helpless reality of this new knowledge.

In a tender gesture Safiye Kadin put her arms about Aidan, and said, “I know, Marjallah, I know just how you feel. Weep, my new friend. Purge your sorrow now so that tonight when the prince sees you he will fall instantly in love with you, and you will receive him in joy!”

For several minutes Aidan sobbed her sorrow against the ample bosom of the bas kadin, but then as her tears began to abate she questioned herself. Slowly she was coming to accept the unpleasant reality of what everyone was telling her. Yet why did she still believe she could not survive without Conn? She had survived quite nicely her entire life until seven months ago without Conn. She loved him. She had loved him from the first moment that she had laid eyes upon him, but she was never going to see him again, and she had not a doubt that he would live on into a ripe old age. Why should not she?

He would mourn her, for she did not even now doubt the intensity of his love and devotion for her, but Safiye Kadin was right. Men must have sons. If anyone understood that Aidan certainly did based upon the history of her own family. At least the St. Michaels would go on, she thought with some satisfaction. Through Conn her family would survive, and her father’s dying wish would be granted although perhaps not in the way that he had wanted. She must resign herself to what was, and not what had been, or what might be.

Raising her head up she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and then said in a tremulous voice, “Tell me what you know of Javid Khan, my lady Safiye.”

Safiye heaved a mental sigh of relief. The crisis was over, and the Englishwoman would accept her fate. She would be grateful to the sultan’s bas kadin, and now that the empire was beginning to open its doors seriously to the English she would be a valuable friend to have. “He is said to be a handsome man, and a good one or else he would not have been sent as the ambassador from the Khanate of the Crimea. He is a Tartar, but I understand that his mother was a slave from Western Europe although I do not know where. You will find out soon enough. He will be a wonderful lord for you to have, Marjallah!”

There was actually little that Safiye could tell Aidan about Javid Khan, but the fact that his reputation appeared to be more good than bad was of some comfort to her. At least she had made a friend of the sultan’s favorite, and she already suspected that Safiye’s friendship could be important to her. Despite being confined within the walls of their harem, women here seemed to have a certain amount of power. She began to relax a little, enjoying the chatter of the bas kadin, the sweets they nibbled on as they talked, and Arslan, the large, long-haired white cat who had now settled himself quite comfortably in Aidan’s lap, and was purring contentedly as she stroked him.

It was this picture, the two young women, their heads together, giggling, that greeted the sultan valideh as she entered the favorite’s apartments. She had already learned from Sayeste of Safiye’s visit. What was the bas kadin up to? Nur-U-Banu wondered. Why did she want to interview Marjallah? Gliding into the room she smiled sweetly, and said, “What a pretty picture you make, my daughters. Ahh, Marjallah, you like cats. They are the beloved animal of the Prophet. My own Peri has just recently had a litter of three adorable kittens whose father, I suspect, is Safiye’s naughty, wandering Arslan. Would you like one? They are of an age to be separated from their mother. No! You shall have them all for Prince Javid’s palace will have no cats yet, and they are an excellent deterrent to the mice and rats.”

“Thank you, madame,” said Aidan softly. “I do love cats, and am most grateful to you for the gift.”

“I shall have to take Marjallah from you now, Safiye. We must choose just the right garments for her to wear tonight.”

“No, no, dear mother! There is no need for Marjallah to bother with the mistress of the wardrobe. We are of the same coloring, and I have recently had some lovely new garments made.”

“How generous of you, Safrye,” said the sultan valideh, “but alas, Marjallah is much taller than you are. I’m afraid that only the mistress of the wardrobe can properly outfit her.”

“Then I shall come with you, dear mother.”

Aidan’s head swiveled back and forth between the two women. Why on earth were they fighting over her like this? she wondered. It was all so damned silly.

“I shall value your exquisite taste,” said Nur-U-Banu silkily. “Come along, my dears,” and turning she swept from the room while they scrambled up quickly to follow exactly as the sultan valideh had intended.

The mistress of the wardrobe was most deferential to both the sultan’s mother, and the sultan’s kadin. She looked Aidan over with a critical eye, and then said, “Her coloring is so very like Safiye Kadin’s, that I would suggest greens.”

“No,” replied Nur-U-Banu. “I do not disagree, Latife, that green is a marvelous color for her, but for tonight let us choose something that will make her stand out even more when she is presented to the ambassador. Find me garments in shades of purple.”

Latife nodded. “You have the eye, madame!” she said admiringly and she hurried off to find the requested garments. Within a very few minutes she was back, her arms filled with a jumble of silks and satins. Laying the fabrics out across a divan she held up the first item for inspection, full silk gauze pantaloons in a wide stripe of deep lavender and cloth of gold. The ankle bands of the pantaloons were wide strips of cloth of gold embroidered in tiny seed pearls and pink crystals. The valideh nodded her approval. The second item presented was a short, sleeveless bodice of a lighter lavender silk edged in deep purple silk threads which were embroidered with seed pearls, pink crystals, and pieces of purple jade. Again the valideh nodded her approval, and so the final item, a pelisse, was held up for their inspection. It was of royal purple satin lined in lavender silk, and edged identically as the bodice. It had a frog closure of lavender-colored carved jade in the shape of a flower.

“Well, Safiye, what do you think?” Nur-U-Banu inquired.

“I would not have thought of it myself,” Safrye admitted admiringly. “You are right, my mother, it is perfect.”

The sultan valideh smiled, well-satisfied. There were still a few tricks she could teach her son’s bas kadin. She had no doubt that Safiye would soon be appearing before her lord and master in shades of purple. Then she looked at the English girl who had been silent through all of the exchange. “Do you like my choice, Marjallah? It is important that you be comfortable in your clothing tonight. First impressions are always so critical with men. Be truthful with me, my daughter. If you prefer the greens then you shall have them.” Her tone with Aidan was kindly.

“No, madame, I am satisfied to rely on your wisdom,” said Aidan, knowing that despite the valideh’s solicitous tone that she preferred to be agreed with. She, too, would be a useful friend, and then Aidan suddenly realized that she was beginning to think like these women. It was somewhat of a shock.

“Very well, Latife. See a slave brings these garments to the oda of Sayeste within the hour. You will also include a cap, slippers, and a girdle of gold.”

The mistress of the wardrobe bowed respectfully to the sultan’s mother, and without another word Nur-U-Banu turned, and left the room. To Aidan’s surprise Jinji was by her side.

“You are to return to the oda of Sayeste and rest before this evening, my lady,” he said.

Safiye gave Aidan a little hug. “Remember what I have told you, dear Marjallah, and do not be afraid. After all, Javid Khan is only a man.” And then she laughed mischievously. “I will come to see you when you are settled, my friend,” she said, and then she too turned, and hurried away.

Jinji led Aidan back through the winding corridors of the Yeni Serai to the oda of the lady Sayeste. I could never find my way around this vast palace, Aidan thought to herself. Arriving at the oda she was greeted by Sayeste, given a mattress, and shown where to place it upon the floor. There were already five other girls in the room resting, but none of them paid any attention to Aidan. They were not interested in being friendly.

“You must rest,” said Sayeste, “and then we will have our supper. There is time to sleep if you so wish.”

Aidan did want to sleep for if she didn’t then she would begin to think, and she knew that thinking of what had happened to her, thinking of her handsome Conn, thinking of what Safiye had said to her, would only make her want to weep again. She had led such a sheltered life, she thought, not quite able yet to turn off her mind. Were women like her, enslaved in Barbary, really considered lost by their families? If she told her tale to the prince, and he returned her to England, would Conn indeed repudiate her? Would he really believe that she had escaped her apparent fate, unscathed ? Given the reputation, deserved or otherwise, of the Turks, would she believe such a thing if it happened to one of her friends? She wasn’t certain, and that doubt began to convince her that perhaps Safiye Kadin was correct. She was as good as dead to Conn, and their family.

It was a frightening and serious thought, and if it were true then her entire life up until this day was gone. She would be like a baby, ignorant, unsure, and learning everything anew. Yet she could not quite relinquish her memories no matter what they said.
Conn!
She called out to him in her mind.
I am not dead! I’m not!
She shifted restlessly upon her pallet. I am going to get hysterical again if I do not stop this, she thought. She drew a deep breath, and then several others. Gradually she began to feel in control of herself once more. Safiye is right, she decided. I am here, and I must make the best of this situation. Tired now, for it had been such a long day, she allowed her heavy eyelids to close, and within minutes she had fallen into a deep and healing sleep.

T
he sultan’s reception to welcome Prince Javid Khan, the ambassador from the Khanate of the Crimea, was held that evening in the sultan’s private garden which opened directly off his quarters. Although it was night, the large garden was well lit by torches and lanterns that had been strung across the fountains and paths, and in the trees. The garden was carefully and beautifully landscaped, its paths of pristine white marble chips raked smooth. At the end of the garden nearest the palace there was an open lawn where a large baldachin had been fashioned from wood, carved and gilded to look like the canopy was actually pure gold. Beneath it was a large divan of crimson satin embroidered with golden stars upon which sat Sultan Murad and his honored guest.