The Legacy of Grazia dei Rossi (45 page)

Still, I do have my own small labors and disappointments, which at times threaten to overwhelm my spirit. To put it simply, my excursion along the Bosphorus with the two princesses was a failure. For reasons that will become obvious, I am using my new-found writing skills to make a private account to you of what happened. This is for your eyes only, sealed in wax with my signet by my own unsteady hand.

Early yesterday morning, our party set off from the Grand Vizier’s dock in the beautiful craft lent for the occasion by Admiral Lofti. The bright sun shining high in the sky and the Bosphorus shimmering in its rays seemed to be an omen that our little mission to find a palace for Princess Saida had Allah’s blessing. But as those palaces up for purchase passed before our eyes one by one, the more elegant they became, the deeper became the gloom that surrounded our sad Princess Saida.

The sortie came to its end when we disembarked on the island of Kinali to stretch our limbs and enjoy the beauties of nature untamed. As we picked our way through the brambles to the little ruined mosque hidden in the greenery, Princess Saida’s spirit seemed to lift. But the moment we heard the squeak of the gate that was swinging in the breeze, a change came over her. And when a little ruined mosque was revealed to our eyes, she burst into a torrent of uncontrollable weeping. Luckily the admiral was not present to witness this display.

Clearly, my words of encouragement to our precious Saida to ease off after a year of mourning have fallen on deaf ears. If we are to get this child married we will have to do it without her help. As long as duty keeps you so far away and for so long, the responsibility to guide this girl through her losses and on to a life of happiness and fulfillment falls to me. Trust me; I will not fail in my efforts to fulfill the duties of a mother to our reluctant daughter.

Signed and sealed with the Regent’s stamp by Sultana Hürrem.

From: Sultana Hürrem at Topkapi Palace

To: Sultan Suleiman, received at Hamedan

Date: October 16, 1534

Adored, worshiped, victorious Sultan:

Was ever a woman as fortunate as I am to play a part in celebrating the greatest victory the world has ever seen? Today there arrived from you a document that will enable me to make the expenditures needed to bring to life my dream of a double festival event in your capital that will astonish the world. Your generosity is not only abundant but is a tangible sign of your faith in me.

In fairness be it said that I could never live up to these heavy responsibilities without the help of our much loved daughter, Princess Saida, who sits beside me to record my words. I am still not prepared to relinquish her secretarial services completely. Even though she has tutored me faithfully to read my own correspondence and write my own letters, my new ability to write in my own hand lags far behind the volume of correspondence I am called upon to address. Without her I am still half speechless and half blind.

If my information is correct, by the time the courier carrying this letter in his pouch reaches you, you will be in Persia. That my far-off presence is even a small part of such a glorious achievement gives me the fortitude to carry on with my countless duties as your anointed Regent and the guardian of your children. It is my honor and my privilege.

Signed and stamped with the Regent’s seal by Sultana Hürrem.

Beneath the signature is the encrypted message:

Today came the dressmaker from the bazaar to measure the bridal party and the Sultana for wedding dresses. The Sultana and the bride’s maids bubbled with enthusiasm. The bride was silent.

From: Danilo del Medigo at Hamedan

To: Judah del Medigo at Topkapi Palace

Date: October 31, 1534

Dear Papa:

The fleeing king, Tahmasp, has left Hamedan without a trace. When he fled, the Persians either ate or burned or carried off every edible in the vicinity. Luckily we brought along our own supplies. But we are also burdened with tons of siege equipment that will be needed if the king of kings decides to make a stand against us at Baghdad. Officially, that fabled place has been handed over to us by its governor, but this is Kurdish territory and the Kurds are known to be undependable allies. Who knows what unpleasant surprises we will find when we cross into Iraq on the other side of the Zagros Mountains?

Meanwhile, here in Hamedan, the Grand Vizier prepares to split up our unwieldy army once again, this time for the crossing from Persia into Iraq. He will be heading the advance force to supervise transport of the heavy scaling equipment and artillery. When word comes back to us that he is safely across the Zagros Mountains and that the passes are clear of Persians, we will set off to rejoin him at the gates to Baghdad.

Tomorrow he will be gone, and those of us in the Sultan’s retinue will be left to enjoy a rest stop of several days here in Hamedan, the city known to the ancients as Ecbatana and the very center of the world of Alexander the Great. If ever I am to have a second chance to review the Sultan’s once-loved īskender, this is it. Hamedan is only a two-hour ride from the battlefield of Gaugamela, where Alexander fulfilled the Gordian prophecy to become lord of all Asia. Here in the surround of Ecbatana is the ground on which Alexander’s Persian war was won.

Hamedan is also the burial place of Hephaestion, Alexander’s boon companion, who sickened and died here on their journey home. This misfortune, the historians point out, marked the beginning of a spiral of adversity that led to the loss of Alexander’s own life within a year.

The junction of these two significant moments in the hero’s life — the high and the low — at one and the same place is almost enough to encourage a belief in some grand closing of a fateful circle by the gods, isn’t it? Just a thought, Papa.

So here we are in Hamedan, which the local Kurds still refer to as Ecbatana, and where they also speak of īskender as if he had passed by them in the street just yesterday. Time is a poor eraser of memory in these parts. When I mentioned this to Ahmed Pasha, he said that nomadic people, such as his own and the Sultan’s ancestors, tend to move forward with one eye on the past. He reminds me that nomads do not own property; hence they lack an attachment to a single homeland. And, being illiterate for the most part, they have no written record to share. All they have in common is their history passed down, mouth to ear, from one generation to the next.

“Stories of the past are their only heritage,” he explained to me. “With them, ancient victories are celebrated as if they happened last week and ancient betrayals are never forgotten. Any man who hopes to conquer Iraq or Persia ignores their tribal past at his peril.” More tomorrow.

Love,

D.

From: His proud consort, Sultana Hürrem at Topkapi Palace

To: Sultan Suleiman, Shadow of God on Earth, Emperor of the East and West, Padishah of All the Arab Lands, en route to a great victory over the heretic Tahmasp, received at Hamedan

Date: November 1, 1534

My fortune-favored Sultan:

I received a visit today from Vizier Rustem, my choice as a
damat
for our loved younger daughter, Mihrimah. He will make the perfect son-in-law — wise, settled, and bone-loyal to his Sultan. Now, we must proceed with haste to provide the same future for Saida, if for no other reason than her wedding must, of course, precede that of her younger sister.

I pause to indulge myself in a sigh of relief that the next task of staging a royal wedding will be easier when Princess Mihrimah’s wedding comes along. Even now she springs to life when I speak of her future. Like all young girls, she dreams of her palace and the jewels she will wear. And I am pleased to report that our choice for her husband, the esteemed Rustem Pasha, is already in consultation with me. After a meeting with the court astrologer I have set the date for a May wedding two years hence. Even two years is not too early to make a start on planning these grand occasions.

I long for your return. I pray for your safety. May Allah watch over you.

Signed and stamped with the Regent’s seal by Sultana Hürrem.

Beneath the signature, an encryption:

Not all young girls dream of palaces and jewels. A princess in a tower dreams of her rescue by a paladin on a white horse.

From: Danilo del Medigo at Hamedan

To: Judah del Medigo at Topkapi Palace

Date: November 2, 1534

Dear Papa:

Ibrahim Pasha finally set off this morning and with him went over half of our army and most of our guns. Already the camp has taken on a lighter air, almost as if we are on a holiday. Give the Grand Vizier his due. He is not lacking in courage or ability. I only wish he liked me a little more. But there is something about my very presence that gets his back up. At times I have the feeling that he sees me as a rival for the Sultan’s favor. But that is ridiculous, isn’t it? He and the Sultan are, after all, childhood friends, fellow campaigners, and, I am told, sometime bedmates. Maybe it is simply that I am a Jew and he hates all Jews.

In the hours since the Grand Vizier marched away, I have seen the Sultan wandering the compound looking as if he lost his best friend. Perhaps this is the time to reintroduce Alexander. We are only a short ride from Gaugamela. And here I sit, a ready and willing tour guide to distract the forlorn Sultan with that piece of ancient history. Time to brush up on Arrian just in case.

Love,

D.

Later:

Say what you like, Papa, miracles do happen. A few minutes ago, while I was rereading Arrian on Alexander’s triumph at Gaugamela — just in case — a brief note arrived to inform me that my presence was required to prepare for tomorrow’s visit to the battlefield at — yes — Gaugamela. How has this happened?

I know your opinion of what people call extra-sensory interlocution — it falls into the same pit as thaumaturgy, sorcery and alchemy. But among the many things you have taught me, Papa, is always to keep an open mind. Now I beg the same of you. Last night I had a thought that flew through the air into the mind of the Sultan. My proof? We are off to Gaugamela by dawn’s light to relive Alexander’s victory there.

“I will require a summary of the battle tomorrow when we reach the site,” the Sultan informed me, as if our last conversation on the subject had occurred the previous day, instead of the previous month. “So you must bring along any books we have in our library on Alexander’s battles. He was headed for Baghdad when Darius confronted him at Gaugamela, was he not?”