The Legacy of Grazia dei Rossi (60 page)

“A letter arrived from the Grand Vizier denouncing you as a traitor. The Sultana has given her men orders to kill you.”

“That can’t be. The Sultan will never allow it. I am high in his favor.”

“Too late. These men will find you and kill you and bury you before the Sultan arrives. By this time tomorrow you will be dead.”

“Are you telling me that she has the power to do that?”

“She is the Regent. She rules in his absence. She believes you to be a threat to my father and she has sentenced you to die,” the princess explained.

“But she doesn’t trust the Grand Vizier. She knows him to be a liar. How can she put any faith in what he says?”

“She told me that when it comes to treason, you have to take your information where you find it.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“You had better believe it. By the time the Sultan grants you an audience you will have disappeared, and the rumor will be spread that you went down to the Galata stews to get in trouble and found it.”

“Are you certain of this?”

“What will it take to convince you?” She dug into her pocket, pulled out a satin bag, bunched up her skirt, and dumped the contents of the bag into her lap. “These are my grandmother’s famous pearls. They are matched perfectly so they will fetch more if you sell them as a set. But if you need to, you can sell them individually.”

“I can’t take your grandmother’s pearls.”

“You must.” Her tone was urgent. “A wanted man needs money to escape, money for food, money for bribes, money to settle somewhere. You are the love of my life. These pearls will save you. Besides” — she paused, bit her lip, and averted her eyes — “there is something I want from you in return.”

“Anything.”

“Listen carefully.” She leaned forward and fixed him with the full power of her gaze. “I want you to make love to me tonight. I want you to take my virginity.” Then she added almost in a whisper, “I cannot bear to have a stranger make me bleed.”

Every muscle, every bone, every sinew in his body was pressing him to take her in his arms. But he turned aside.

“Unless I do not please you.” She drew her cloak close around her body modestly. “Perhaps my body is not soft enough.”

To this he had no trouble making an immediate response. “Your body is perfection.”

“Then why waste time talking?”

“I am thinking of your honor,” he explained.

“My honor?” She took a deep breath and straightened her back proudly. “To bestow my hymen on the love of my life is honor enough for me.”

This was an aspect of her honor he had never thought of.

“But I cannot bear for you to be drowned in a sack to pay for a sin that I committed.” Even the thought made him shudder.

“I see. You are afraid that if you take my virginity my father will be obliged to kill me to wipe out the stain on my honor. Is that it?”

“I will not allow you to be killed — or even punished — on my account,” he replied.

“You are truly my knight,” she cooed as she reached over to run her fingers softly down his cheek. “But you keep forgetting, my paladin, that I am a harem girl. Remember, I spent my childhood in my grandmother’s
hamam
,
listening to the concubines chatter. I know all the harem tricks.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how to restore a perforated hymen at every rising of the new moon if need be.”

“You learned that in the harem?”

“All it takes is an amalgam of crushed
rezacahi
grapes and ground musk root,” she reported as casually as if she were passing on a recipe for pilaf. “A few dabs are enough to close off the passage, and the paste takes only takes ten minutes to harden into a perfect replica of the original membrane. Then — abracadabra! A newly minted virgin.”

“And what about the bloodied sheet?”

“Ah, yes, the bloody sheet.”

Now he could see lurking around the edges of her kohl-lined eyes traces of his mischievous playmate of old.

“For that I will need a small bladder of pig’s blood to hide under the pillow on the wedding night, and a pin to prick it at the certain moment. The next morning a bloodied sheet will be held up by the bridegroom to show his prowess and prove my virginity.” She paused thoughtfully. “Men want virgins. Women learn how to supply what men want.” She held out her arms, careless of the cloak sliding down her body. “So let us strike a bargain, my knight. I will restore the lost virginity and you will take care of the lovemaking. Agreed?”

Taking her face in his hands as she had done so often with him, he answered, “When love commands, the lover has no choice but to obey.”

Whereupon he set about dedicating his full attention to the task his old tutor had assigned him.

Given the relentless single-mindedness with which his fellow pages pursued their pleasure on their all-too-rare visits to the stews of the Galata docks, Danilo could hardly be counted their equal in lovemaking experience. His total sexual encounters to date were few in number. And even those had been undertaken more to prove his manhood to his comrades in the School for Pages than to satisfy his own desires.

As for his partner in the enterprise, in spite of whatever worldly information she had picked up in the fleshpots of the harem, Princess Saida herself was a virgin who lacked any practical experience. It could be said that the lovers entered into their adventure as a pair of innocents, having to find their path together in a strange and unfamiliar country. But mutual passion, longstanding trust, and above all a deep and abiding affection led the way.

Luckily, the Danilo who had proved himself a quick student of foreign languages proved an equally fast learner in the art of love. Each time he found himself making a move or uttering a word or touching a place that seemed to please his partner, he continued. If he sensed the slightest sign of discomfort or unease, he immediately left off. In short, as he gathered her in his arms and set about to make love to her, his agenda was based not on his own pleasure but on hers.

It was in that spirit that he began to explore every dimple, every curve, every bone in her perfect body. And he was rewarded by a rush of passionate kisses. But, held back by his fear of hurting or harming her, he found himself unable to summon up the power to break through the membrane that protected her virginity. Then suddenly he was aware of the feel of her hands on his body taking hold of his rigid member and guiding it slowly and carefully through the shoals and shallows of her virgin canal.

One sudden thrust was all it took to shatter the barrier. Then came her sharp cry. Was it pain or pleasure? Or a mixture of both?

Of course, there was blood. Fortunately their prior conversation had prepared Danilo for the sight of it, if not the warm ooze that seemed to suffuse his body.

And wound tightly around each other they now drifted into that warm sea of sensation where two pulsing hearts beat as one.

When at last they lay back exhausted in each other’s arms, no words passed between them. There was no need. Their bodies spoke for them. Every touch, every sigh, every soft caress spoke a language more intimate than words.

Then Saida broke the silence. “Before I go —”

“Not yet,” he begged.

“Yes, I must. It is time. But allow me one more moment.”

“It is yours.”

“I have dreamed of our last night together for a long time,” she began in a quiet voice. “Tonight as I was walking in the dark to meet you I prayed to Allah to make my dream come true. I vowed that if I was granted a single wish, I would live out the rest of my days as an obedient Muslim daughter and wife. All I asked in return was one night of perfect love. Tonight, with Allah’s blessing, you have made my dream come true and given me a gift that only the gods can bestow.”

“I have done nothing.”

She interrupted him gently. “Oh, but you have. Did you know that in ancient days the tribes kept a team of experts trained to deflower their virgins? And the deflowerers were well rewarded for their skill.”

“You’re teasing me again.”

“No, it’s true. My old
lala
told me.” But as she told her tale, he could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. What spirit! Her gallantry deserved something more than empty reassurances.

“I am not a man of words. But I do have a confession,” he offered. “I want to tell you something that I have never told anybody, not even my father.”

“Go on.”

“At my bar mitzvah the rabbis told me that coming of age was an initiation ritual, and that I was being inducted into the company of men. I was thirteen years old. I didn’t understand. My true initiation was tonight when I felt your warm blood on my skin, And now I can say to you what you have said to me so many times. You are the love of my life. No matter how many years we spend apart, even if we never see each other again, I am yours forever and you are mine.”

It was the longest speech he had ever made in his life, and for once it rendered the princess speechless. But all too soon the ever faithful, ever vigilant Narcissus broke into their embrace.

“You must let me go,” she whispered as she carefully disengaged herself from his arms. “If Hürrem wakes up early from her sleep and finds me gone, we are undone.”

Left to his own devices, Danilo would have waved off the slave and taken the consequences. But he was no match for the cool head behind the sorrowful eyes.

“Have you got his papers?” Saida inquired of the eunuch.

“Everything is in order, Princess. The
San Domenico
sails after the first prayer, and Captain Loredano is expecting us within the hour,” he replied.

“Sailing to where?” Danilo asked.

“To Italy, of course,” answered the princess. “To fulfill your destiny.”

Try as he might, Danilo could not hide his misery at the prospect of such a fate.

“You must take comfort knowing that you have given me my heart’s desire,” she counseled. “But remember” — she fixed him with a piercing stare — “I am the one condemned to a loveless life ever after. For you it is not the same. You will have other loves.”

When he opened his mouth to deny it, she placed her fingers tenderly over his lips. “I know you. You love glory. You love your horse.” She reached up through the straw to pat the horse’s flank. “It is a good question which of us you most regret leaving, me or Bucephalus.” Then she added, “So I have found a way to take care of Bucephalus for you after you have disappeared.” She smiled sweetly. “When you are gone, I will get my father to give the horse to me.” She paused for maximum effect. “As a wedding present.” She giggled like a naughty child. “That way Bucephalus and I can cry over you together. I will bring him carrots every day in my husband’s stable and we will talk about how much we miss you. I know he will be a great comfort to me.”

And then, with a fleeting smile, she twisted away and was gone. But before he had a chance to miss her, she was back with a final warning: “Under no circumstances can you leave the stables — or even think of returning to your father’s house — until Narcissus returns to spirit you away to the Galata dock. That is where the Italian galleon awaits you.”

“But I cannot leave without saying goodbye to my father.” On that, he was determined to stay firm.

“Have you not heard a word I’ve said? The Doctor’s House is surrounded by men with orders to shoot you on sight.”

“I can’t run away like a thief in the night.”

“If you will not do this for yourself, do it for your father. He cannot be thought of as having anything to do with your escape. I know the doctor. He is an honest man and a bad liar. What he knows, he cannot hide. If you told him where you were going, he would give us away while he was trying to protect you. His safety depends on his not knowing anything of our plan. He will be heartbroken. He may even go to my father for help in finding you. If he does, that will help to convince the Sultana and the Grand Vizier that he had no part in your escape, and he will be safe from them. For his sake make no effort to return to his house to say goodbye.”

“But —”

She cut him off firmly. “Maybe someday in the future the Grand Vizier will die — he certainly has it coming. But for now you need to keep yourself out of his reach. In Italy, you will be safe from him and all of us in this Byzantine court.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. Remember, my love, I am the daughter of a king. I was named for the prophet’s granddaughter. I have loyalties beyond my own desires.”

“But you have put yourself in mortal danger on my account.”

She gazed at him fondly. “I have done nothing to betray my father. My conscience is clear. And I have realized my heart’s desire. Now promise me you will not risk a trip to the Doctor’s House. It is bad enough for me to have to live the rest of my life with an absent lover. I don’t think I could manage it with a dead one.”

He promised. And she was gone.

60

MEMORIES

Danilo had given his word to Princess Saida not to leave the safety of the stable. But there were things in his father’s house that he would not — could not — leave behind. So as soon as he was certain the princess was out of sight, he crept cautiously out of the stable into the black night. Saida might be a girl brought up to know the ways of the harem, but he was a boy brought up to know the secret places of Topkapi Palace — places like the grape arbor in the garden of the Doctor’s House that would shield an interloper from detection as he crawled through a certain cellar window that was never locked.