The Tournament (20 page)

‘Couldn’t you just
tell
me about them? Then I could know of them without having to see them.’

‘Not this time. There is no better lesson than seeing something with your own eyes.’

We had arrived back at the Hagia Sophia. The enormous throng of people still crowded around the mighty cathedral.

I said, ‘So what is your plan now?’

‘From what I have seen and heard so far,’ Mr Ascham said, ‘I am increasingly intrigued by Cardinal Cardoza and his embassy. That is where Cardinal Farnese was poisoned by a meal that came from Brunello’s kitchen. And the now-dead Brunello argued with Cardoza, who feuds with the whoremonger, Afridi. And now we hear from Afridi of most unholy gatherings that take place there at night. My plan, then, is to follow my own advice and see this embassy with my own eyes. I intend to observe the cardinal’s embassy under the cover of darkness, perhaps as soon as tonight, and see what goes on there.’

WE RETURNED TO THE
Hagia Sophia in time to see the final stages of the second match of the tournament: Vladimir of Muscovy versus Mustafa of Cairo. Like the first match, it was a rather one-sided contest.

The burly Muscovite won the match by four games to nil and when he mated the Egyptian in the fourth game, the young prince Ivan leapt up from his chair on the royal stage and punched the air with a cry of, ‘Good show, Vlad! Good show!’

A wooden placard bearing Vladimir’s name was placed in the second column of the draw. The Muscovite would face Zaman in the next round and all knew that it would be a fine match.

The sun set on Constantinople and the delighted crowd dispersed from the Hagia Sophia. As the distinguished guests staying at the palace filed out of the great cathedral and back through the palace gates, Mr Ascham held me aside so that they could pass us by.

‘What are we—’ I began, but then I realised.

He was looking at their shoes, searching for a wooden-soled left sandal with a nick in it. But he saw no such shoe among the many feet that went by.

The next day offered an abundance of chess: the remaining six matches of the first round would be played. To accommodate this, we’d been told, the single central playing stage would be converted into two playing stages.

Given the big day to follow, no formal dinner was held that evening and most delegations took supper in their rooms.

My teacher’s plan to furtively observe the cardinal’s quarters that night was also thwarted when he learned that, since Rome’s own player was playing the next day, Cardinal Cardoza had ordered all his guests to retire early that night, so as not to disturb Brother Raul.

‘The cardinal is, however, scheduled to host a reception for the Sultan in the Church’s embassy tomorrow evening,’ Mr Ascham said. ‘I might try to see what happens there after that.’

I myself was glad for the early night. The events in the slaughter room and the visit to the brothel had shaken me. I wasn’t sure what to make of them. On the one hand, I most certainly didn’t like seeing such things. But then, on the other, I didn’t want to be a naïve king’s daughter who knew nothing of the real world. That world might be unpleasant, it might even be dangerous, but it was
real
, and I found myself wanting to know about it, no matter how terrible its secrets might be. Having said that, after staying out so late the previous night, I was tired and another evening of grim investigation was not something I desired greatly, so I was happy for the reprieve.

It was still light when I dropped into my bed and quickly fell asleep.

I awoke later to find the world around me dark, the palace quiet and Elsie’s bed once again empty. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

A shuffling noise woke me. I opened my eyes to see Elsie treading softly across the room toward her bed. The first purple rays of dawn were creeping through the window shades.

‘Elsie!’ I whispered. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Oh, just to another delicious gathering with the Crown Prince and his friends,’ she said in a hushed but most excited voice. ‘This time it was in one of the ancient crypts underneath the Hagia Sophia, one that must have been built when the great mosque was a Christian church. Zubaida had learned that a gathering was taking place there this evening and bid me join her.’

She leapt to my side and, unbidden, launched into a description of her evening.

‘When I arrived at the rear entrance to the Hagia with Zubaida, we were each handed a mask and instructed to disrobe. Can you believe it, Bessie, masks and nakedness! How exciting! We then descended some stairs and entered the crypt. Normally, it would have been the most frightening and ghoulish place but the prince’s servants had decorated it with hundreds of candles that illuminated the old stone chamber in a rich warm glow.

‘Scattered around the crypt were perhaps two dozen young men and girls—including Crown Prince Selim himself—all of them naked but for their flimsy masks. Many sipped wine from gold goblets while others casually pleasured each other on the stone sarcophagi arrayed around the place, careless of any offence this may have caused the dead.

‘I felt a thrill: congress is a delight in itself, but congress in illicit places has an extra excitement to it. I shouldn’t tell you, Bessie, but I once allowed Mr Trelawney, the gardener at Hatfield, to take me in his workshed while his wife tilled the vegetable garden not twenty paces away.’

‘Elsie!’

‘Trust me, Bessie, a man will take it whenever he can get it, and, truly, the more risky the location, the greater the thrill—riding the gardener while looking out at his wife heightened my pleasure considerably.’

I could not speak. I had thought Mr Trelawney to be a decent and loyal husband. He went to church every Sunday.

Elsie went on. ‘Upon entering the crypt, I eyed the Crown Prince. He lounged on a marble coffin wearing a gold half-mask, drinking wine and conversing with one of his male friends while a slave girl stood behind him massaging his shoulders.

‘Zubaida said, “See that man Selim is talking to? He is Rahman, the prince’s closest friend since childhood. If you want to snare the prince, you must first impress Rahman.”

‘“I see,” I replied, striding around the crypt, ostensibly gazing at the bodies around me but in reality assessing this Rahman. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with long black hair that flopped down over his bronze half-faced mask.

‘I made three circuits of the crypt, sidling past Rahman and the prince each time, swivelling my naked hips as I went by. They noticed.

‘A short time later, leaning against a stone coffin, I threw a nod at Rahman, which brought him over to me. He arrived before me and said in Greek, “Good evening, I understand that you are a rose from England. I am Rahman—”

‘I pressed my finger gently to his lips, silencing him. Then I took him by the hand and led him into a side-crypt. Without uttering a single word, I sat him down on a stone seat and mounted him. Then I rode him, gently and sensually, until with the rhythm of my hips I brought him to a gasping climax.’

‘Goodness, Elsie . . .’ I said. ‘How could you be so forward? Would a man really like that?’

Elsie smiled knowingly. ‘Believe me, they like it, Bessie. You’ll learn. Once Rahman had caught his breath, I said most demurely, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Rahman. My name is Elsie and I do indeed hail from England.”

‘After that, we conversed most pleasantly for a short while before he returned to the prince’s side and engaged Selim in a conversation which included many glances in my direction.

‘I just nodded to them and the prince nodded back.’ Elsie shivered, giggling. ‘Oh, Bessie, I am getting closer to the prince.’

‘Elsie, what exactly do you hope to achieve by coupling with the Crown Prince?’

‘Bessie, you silly, silly girl! What do you
think
? But of course, you do not think of these things because you were born a princess. I was not so born. The only way I can become a princess is by seducing a prince, and the only way I can become a
queen
is by seducing and marrying a
Crown
Prince. What better way to win one than by satisfying his manly needs?’

I suddenly felt very young. I did not like being called a silly, silly girl.

But then I thought of my father’s long list of conquests. He must have bedded over two hundred women in his life and he certainly hadn’t intended to marry all of them. There was only one exception to this rule: my mother, Anne Boleyn. A most confident and prepossessing lady—some said devious—she had not succumbed to his charms until she was absolutely sure he would marry her. But even that had not saved her. Once they had been wed and she had treacherously given him a daughter, me, his wandering eye had found other willing girls and his interest in her waned till the day he had her head cut off.

‘Be careful, Elsie,’ I said, ‘the Crown Prince cannot marry every girl he plucks and it sounds to me like he and his friends have plucked many.’

Elsie sighed. ‘That’s easy for you to say, Bessie. But just think, if I were to marry Selim and become his queen and you were to become Queen of England, we would be queens together! What wonderful parties we could hold at our courts!’

‘Elsie,’ I said, ‘I have one brother and an elder sister who both precede me in the line of succession. By the sound of it, you are currently closer to sitting on a throne than I am.’

We talked a little more but soon Elsie, exhausted from her nocturnal adventures, nodded off. By this time, dawn had come fully and sounds could be heard from the other rooms of our lodgings.

The second day of the tournament was about to start.

WE ARRIVED AT THE
Hagia Sophia later that morning to find two chess stages erected before the royal stage and the eager masses crowding around them both. The Sultan sat up on his throne, equidistant from the two boards, able to watch whichever match took his fancy.

The first two matches to be played were the remaining two from the top half of the draw: Ali Hassan Rama of Medina versus Pablo Montoya of Castile; and Eduardo of Syracuse versus Brother Raul of the Papal States.

At one point during those two matches, my teacher went over to sit with Ignatius of Loyola. He recounted to me later the conversation they had:

‘Signor Ignatius, we have not met but my name is Ascham, from—’

‘Please, I know who you are, Mr Ascham. It is a privilege. I am told by our mutual friend Michelangelo that you are a man after my own heart: a lover of learning and teaching.’

‘I am indeed,’ my teacher replied. ‘Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some brief questions.’

‘Certainly.’

‘On the night of the opening banquet, just before the main meal, did you engage Cardinal Cardoza in a conversation?’

‘I did.’

‘He was leaving the courtyard, was he not?’

‘He was. He was returning to his embassy.’

‘Was it a lengthy discussion?’

‘Yes. And a passionate one, too. It was about the selling of indulgences by the Pope and his cardinals to the wealthy. I find it outrageous. Cardinal Cardoza does not.’

‘I see. May I also ask if you are staying at Cardinal Cardoza’s embassy while you are in attendance at this tournament?’

‘No!’ the Jesuit retorted sharply. ‘I most certainly am not. The selling of indulgences is not the only Church practice the cardinal and I disagree on. I am staying in more humble lodgings in the city, on my own.’

‘What of your player? Brother Raul?’

‘He is staying with the cardinal, against my advice,’ the Jesuit said darkly.

They spoke briefly of other matters, but then Brother Raul’s match reached a critical juncture and my teacher politely took his leave so that Ignatius could watch the match with his full attention.

In the end, the two matches were stirring contests that went to seven and six games respectively, with both the Spanish players winning. The second round would thus be most interesting: Spaniard would face Spaniard with one representing the Holy Roman Emperor, King Charles, and the other God himself.

I was very excited about the next session—the middle session of the day—for it would see the first appearance of our man, Mr Gilbert Giles. Earlier that morning, he had sat with Mr Ascham in our rooms discussing potential strategies. I watched, enthralled.