A Love for All Time (66 page)

“Yes,” said Aidan, “but then he fled the justice of his father and his family. They could not find him although they searched. You must let me write to the Great Khan of the Crimea, and tell him what has happened.”

“Do not trouble yourself, dear child,” said the valideh. “The Great Khan will be informed, but by the sultan, his overlord. There is one happy thing I have to tell you, however. Your serving woman was found safe amongst the Tartars. She will be returned to you as soon as our Janissaries reach Istanbul.”

A cry of joy burst forth from Iris and Fern who had been seated discreetly in the room awaiting their mistress’ orders. “Thank God,” said Aidan fervently.

“Praise Allah,” corrected the valideh gently.

“What will now happen to my people and me ?” Aidan asked.

Nur-U-Banu hesitated a moment, and then she said, “It is the custom of our country that as Javid Khan was an ambassador, and therefore here at the sultan’s request, and consequently under imperial Ottoman protection, that the sultan take his widow into his harem as one of his wives.”

“No!”
Aidan’s voice was sharp, and she looked horrified.

“Dear child, it is an honor that my son chooses you,” said the valideh patiently.

“I do not wish it!” Aidan cried. “Please understand, dear madame. It is not that I am ungrateful, but as I am a free woman now, I should far prefer to return to my own homeland. There is no legal reason for me not to do so.”

“My dear Marjallah, have we not discussed this before? You cannot possibly return to your homeland. You know how you would be received, and what if your husband has remarried? You have been gone almost a year. How awful for your poor first husband to have you appear upon his doorstep now. What if his new bride were with child? I know the Christian faith. He would be forced to reinstate you as his wife, but he would not want you, nor could he possibly bring himself to cohabit with you as a man and a wife. His new bride’s child, his heir, would be considered a bastard babe. Could you really do that to a man you claim to have loved? Could you do that to some innocent girl, and her equally innocent child, your husband’s only heir? I do not think you could.

“Dear Marjallah, I know how painful the death of your beloved Javid Khan, has been for you. I realize that his loss makes you remember the life you had before you came to us, but that life with Javid Khan is dead. You must begin anew, and my son, Murad, has admired you from the moment he saw you. Safiye and I rejoice to have you here with us. We all only want to make you happy.”

“Safiye is not known for her love of her husband’s other women,” said Aidan bluntly. “I should rather be a servant in your house, or even be sold in the slave markets of the city than lose one of the few friends I have here.”

“Safiye is delighted that in your sorrow there is a flame of hope, Marjallah. I swear to you that she will welcome you as a sister, and not an enemy.” The valideh turned and said to Jinji, “Go to the bas kadin, and say that the sultan valideh wished to see her here in the apartment of the lady Marjallah.” She turned back again to Aidan. “In the time of Sultan Selim I his four kadins were close friends who loved and supported one another. Safiye’s attitude toward my son’s other women is actually all Murad’s fault. Both were quite young when they fell in love, and Murad would look at no other female but Safiye for too many years. Then when he finally realized the danger of having but one child, and began to take other women, have other children, she naturally became jealous. Certainly you can understand that?

“The other women of the harem then aligned themselves against Safiye for they were jealous of her position, and of her very healthy son, Memhet, who is his father’s heir. It is, of course, entirely out of hand now, but what can I do? I cannot force them to like each other. You, however, are a different matter. You and Safiye have been friends since your arrival here. Nothing will change, I promise you, and Safiye will reassure you of that herself.”

The words were scarcely out of the valideh’s mouth when Safiye arrived. She looked particularly beautiful this morning, and Nur-U-Banu was again struck by the difference between the two women. There was a lushness about her son’s favorite, a glow. Poor Marjallah on the other hand was pale and woebegone. Safiye instantly saw the differences, and was immediately sympathetic to her friend, and once again curious as to what it was about Marjallah that fascinated Murad so very much that he must possess her.

“Marjallah! Dear friend!” Safiye sat next to Aidan and put an arm about her. “I am so very sorry about Javid, but still that cruel tragedy has brought you back to us.”

“The lady valideh tells me that as the sultan was responsible for the safety of his ambassadors, it is custom that he take me for one of his wives. Is it so?”

“Yes,” said Safiye without hesitation, “and I am so happy that we will be sisters. You will be so good for my lord Murad, unlike those silly and foolish creatures he usually chooses. Is it really a wonder that I despise them? You, however, are a different matter. You are my friend, and I am glad we can continue to be so.”

“I don’t want this, Safiye. I really don’t want this. Could not the sultan simply allow me his protection? Why must I be one of his women?”

“Oh, Marjallah! You must not be afraid of my lord Murad! Besides if he did not take you for one of his own, Javid Khan’s family might insist you be sent to them. Surely you don’t want to go to the Crimea? It is a terribly uncivilized place. Why until the last hundred years the Tartars roamed the steppes, and lived in tents! You cannot speak their language, and as Javid Khan’s widow you would be under their control. They could marry you off to anyone they chose, even someone in a land more distant than theirs. Oh, Marjallah! You cannot leave me! You are the only
real
friend that I have!” wailed Safiye.

“Safiye, I don’t want to forfeit our friendship, I truly don’t, but I do not want to be one of the sultan’s women. How can I go to his bed with my beloved Javid barely in his grave? I shudder to even contemplate it!”

Safiye misunderstood Aidan’s reasoning, and thinking to comfort her friend she said, “Murad is the most marvelous lover any woman could have, Marjallah. He is so wonderfully masterful, and in his arms you will die a thousand sweet deaths!”

Aidan sighed. “Safiye, were you a virgin when you came to Sultan Murad’s bed?” Safiye nodded. “You have never known any other man! I have, and am therefore in a better position to judge a man’s prowess in passion. That, however, is not my objection. I simply do not want to be forced into another relationship so quickly. It is indecent!”

Her logic made both the valideh and the bas kadin uncomfortable for secretly both women agreed with her. Both knew that what Murad was doing was not only indecent, but insulting as well to the memory of Javid Khan, and to the honor of his wife. Still both knew that once Murad set his mind to something there was little that could deter him from his chosen whim. Safiye looked to Nur-U-Banu for help. It was, she thought, after all the valideh’s obligation first.

“Dear child, dear child! How wonderfully delicate are your feminine sensibilities, but you are much too harsh. I would not call Murad’s decision indecent, but rather proper devotion to custom. By making you his wife immediately he does the memory of Javid Khan honor for his actions say that he accepts the responsibility of what has happened, painful and as personally embarrassing as it may be to him, and to his government. For such a terrible event to occur in my son’s empire, so close to his capital city, is deeply shameful. What must other governments think when they hear of it? Still his treatment of you, Javid Khan’s widow, shows that he is an honorable man. Do not deny my son that, dear child, I beg of you!”

“When do I become the sultan’s?” Aidan demanded irritably. Her head still hurt, and both Nur-U-Banu and Safiye were making her feel ungrateful for Murad’s wonderful generosity simply because she did not want to be his new wife.

“It is tradition that a new woman go to him on Friday,” said the valideh.

“This Friday?”
Aidan looked positively horrified.

“I realize it is soon,” said the valideh, “but there must be no delay in Murad’s accepting you. You must understand that, dear child.”

“Am I allowed no time to mourn the good man who loved me?” said Aidan.

“Of course you will mourn him, Marjallah. I suspect that you will mourn him for many weeks, but the prince would comprehend both your position, and the sultan’s. He was a man who understood the stern obligations of one’s duty.”

My God, thought Aidan, she makes it all seem so correct, and I know that it is not! The sultan lusts after me, and I could see it when he came to our palace several days ago. She shuddered. I don’t want to belong to him. I don’t! I should rather be dead!

“Marjallah,” Safiye said softly, “my lord Murad will understand your sorrow. He will be kind. I have never known him to be unkind to a woman.”

Aidan looked up at Nur-U-Banu and at Safiye. They were both beautiful women. Extremely beautiful women. She couldn’t remember seeing a female in this palace who wasn’t lovely. Even the servant women were. She had never been a woman to hide from the truth. She was not beautiful. Pretty, perhaps. But not beautiful, and certainly not even pretty in grief. Although she had no mirror to see herself in she knew that her nose was red, and her face puffy with her crying. Neither the sultan valideh nor the bas kadin, Aidan wagered silently to herself, would ever look so unattractive in sorrow. They probably looked better! There were women like that.

She was not about to accept this fate meekly. Drawing a deep breath she said, “I do not understand why the sultan wants me, and please, I beg of you, do not prattle to me of his obligations. I am no beauty, and well I know it. There are several hundred women in this harem, and more gorgeous maidens arriving every day. I doubt the sultan has seen even half of the women who are brought here for his pleasure. Why must he have me? Can he not fulfill his duty simply by respecting my grief, and sheltering me until he finds another man whom he wishes to honor with a wife?”

Both Nur-U-Banu and Safiye were at a loss to refute Aidan’s arguments for she spoke with logic, and neither woman was so stupid that she did not understand. Again Safiye looked to the valideh for it really was her place to handle this matter.

“I cannot disagree with what you say, Marjallah,” said Nur-U-Banu. “Were you an ordinary wife what you suggest is probably just what my son would do. You, however, were a gift from the dey in Algiers. You were wife to one of his most useful and powerful allies. To pass you on to some other man as if you were merely a well-bred animal would be unthinkable. No, dear girl, Murad honors the memory of Javid Khan and his people by taking you for his own.” She turned herself, and facing Aidan took her face between her hands. “That is the way it
must
be, Marjallah. I know that you understand me when I tell you that.”

“Yes, madame, I understand you,” Aidan replied, but she was unable to keep the mutinous tone from her voice. It was useless speaking with the sultan’s mother and his favorite. They would, of course, take his side of the matter. Perhaps the sultan would understand better. After all the power was really with him. She could not ask to see him now for they would never allow such a thing, but on Friday night when she was brought to him she would tell him of her feelings, and perhaps if he were the sensitive man his women seemed to think he was, he would understand her position and her feelings, and release her. She was, after all, a free woman. Had not Javid gone to the kadi and had her papers of manumission drawn up? They all knew it for Javid Khan had spoken of it often. Tartars, he said, did not marry slaves. Their wives were free women.

Nur-U-Banu smiled at Aidan now. “It is settled then, my child. On Friday night you will go to my son, and I know you will find joy with him.”

“Yes,” said Safiye encouragingly, “and you and I shall be sisters together. It shall be with us as it is with Janfeda and our mother valideh.”

Aidan wanted to scream. Javid Khan was barely gone, and the sultan was planning his seduction with a boldness that astounded her. It was obvious that he felt no shame in his actions. The idea of death flirted with her consciousness once again. Something within her did not quite believe Nur-U-Banu and Safiye when they said her road home to England was closed. She could not believe that Conn had replaced her in either his heart or his bed. Not yet. Conn was not a man who gave himself lightly. She was not a slave anymore. She was free to go home, wasn’t she? If she could only get a message to the English ambassador, William Harborne, who had arrived in Turkey last summer. Perhaps Esther Kira would smuggle a message out for her. If she could not go home, she preferred death to belonging to the sultan.

During the next few days, however, she had no opportunity to speak with Esther. Her movements were kept restricted, and she was allowed no freedom but for her own and Nur-U-Banu’s apartments, and the valideh’s planted courtyard. Such confinement made her extremely edgy for she was not used to it. Her diet was a rich one, and the sultan’s mother virtually stood over her to be certain that she ate every mouthful upon her plate.

“You are too thin,” the valideh said with a smile. “We must put a bit more flesh upon your bones.”

Aidan had no knowledge of the fact that her diet had been specifically tailored by the agha kislar, Ilban Bey, who was the sultan valideh’s ally. Her meals were filled with foods believed to be conducive to increasing passion, and they were laced as well with herbs and drugs to increase her sensitivity and increase her awareness. She was also bathed twice daily and massaged with creams and lotions to refine her beautiful skin even more. It seemed to Aidan that she spent her entire time in either eating, sleeping, or washing. I can’t live like this, she thought. I will go mad with the boredom!