by Anne Herries
lord. I bring bad news…’
Suleiman felt chiled. He had spent two days fasting and
praying, but since the remarkable recovery of the friend his
physicians had given up as lost, his thoughts had been uneasy,
though he did not know why.
‘Tel me at once!’
‘The concubine Fatima tried to poison the lady Eleanor,’
Hasar said. ‘The concubines’ pet monkey ate the poisoned fruit
and died—but Lady Eleanor chalenged Fatima and the
concubine attacked your lady and wounded her with a knife.’
‘Eleanor has been wounded—badly?’ Ice was creeping
through Suleiman’s veins as he saw the answer in the eunuch’s
eyes. ‘What has been done for her—where is the wound?’
‘In her upper arm,’ Hasar replied. ‘The physician visits her
every day and the women tend her—but she has a fever and…’
‘Go on,’ Suleiman said fiercely as the eunuch faltered. ‘Has
‘Go on,’ Suleiman said fiercely as the eunuch faltered. ‘Has
the wound become infected?’
‘They say it is gathering putrid flesh…’ Hasar gasped as he
saw the flash of anger mixed with pain in his master’s eyes. ‘I
know nothing of these things, my lord. I thought you should
know…’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Two days ago…’
‘For two days no one told me?’
‘You were at prayer, my lord. We dared not intrude upon
your vigil.’
Suleiman raised his clenched fist as if he would strike the
eunuch, then turned away with a gasp of anguish and frustration.
What good would it do to take his anger out on the unfortunate
messenger? It could not change what had happened—and the
man had done only as he had been told. Suleiman had left orders
that he was not to be disturbed for anything—but he had not
expected this!
Yet he should have done. What a blind, stupid fool he was!
Eleanor had come to him straight from Karin’s bedside with a
request that Fatima should be sent away. He ought to have
known that something lay behind such a request. Eleanor was
not jealous of the other woman, she had no need to be. He
should have realised that she was trying to protect herself and the
others from Fatima’s spite.
Had he not been so concerned for his friend, he might have
realised her request was urgent. But his mind had been attuned
to the vigil he had vowed to keep—and because he had done
to the vigil he had vowed to keep—and because he had done
nothing, she was like to die of her wounds. His grief tore through
him, striking him to the heart so that he was gripped with a
terrible agony and hardly knew how to stand upright. Had he
been alone, he might have given way to his grief, but pride kept
him from shedding unmanly tears. Instead, his heart shed tears of
blood.
‘I shal come to her at once,’ he said to Hasar. He glanced at
the eunuch who was shivering, clearly expecting to be punished.
‘You are not to blame. What has been done with Fatima?’
‘She is in the punishment cels—awaiting your order, my
lord.’
‘Leave her for the moment,’ Suleiman said. ‘Give her only
bread and water—and she is to see no one until I decide what to
do with her.’
Fatima’s punishment could wait—for the moment al he could
think of was Eleanor. That she should have been harmed—and
by a woman he ought to have sent away days ago—festered in
Suleiman’s mind like a poisoned thorn. It was his fault, his
stupidity in being lenient towards the beautiful woman who had
once pleased him, that had brought Eleanor to this!
If she should die! Suleiman hardly dared to alow the thought
into his mind. She had been like a bright flame in the sky,
bringing him closer to happiness than he had ever been in his life.
He had thought to find content with her in this palace that had
seemed like a prison before her coming; her smiles had soothed
his restless nature; her anger had amused and sometimes burned
him—and her spirit had delighted him.
him—and her spirit had delighted him.
As he walked towards the hals of the harem, a place that he
had seldom visited, preferring to have his women brought to him,
Suleiman’s thoughts were gathering darkness. Until Eleanor’s
coming, he had sought a woman’s company only for sensual
pleasure—but she had changed him, teaching him the joy of
companionship with a woman…something he had never
expected to know after his mother’s death.
To find such treasure only to lose it was to taste paradise only
to be cast back into the fires of hel. He felt as if a thousand
demons tore at his flesh, their talons piercing him until his agony
was like to drive him mad. How could he bear it if she should
die?
He heard the startled gasps as he strode into the harem
unannounced, the women fluttering like jewel-bright birds as if a
cat had got amongst them. He was annoyed that his presence
should cause such a fluster, yet dismissed it in an instant. Why
should they not fear him when they knew only that he was their
master and could punish them for the slightest misdemeanour?
He had never troubled himself to make them like or understand
him, never spent time in discovering what made them happy. It
had been enough that they were kept in comfort, awaiting his
pleasure.
One of the women came to meet him. She seemed not to fear
him, for she looked him in the eyes. ‘You have come to see the
lady Eleanor, my lord. Anastasia is with her now and is about to
change her bandages. If you wil wait but a moment…’
change her bandages. If you wil wait but a moment…’
‘And you are?’
‘Elizabetta, my lord. I have danced and sung for you.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Suleiman said. ‘You have been nursing
my lady?’
‘Yes, with others—but we have not Anastasia’s skil. She
was angry when she came back and found Eleanor so il. She is
making changes and I am sure my lady wil soon be much
recovered.’
‘Pray do not delay me,’ Suleiman said. ‘I must see her.’
He walked past Elizabetta, the other women watching him
fearfuly from a distance as he entered Eleanor’s apartments.
Suleiman was shocked as he saw Eleanor’s hair damp with
sweat, her face flushed and heated from the fever that had her in
its grip. Anastasia had just finished sponging her body with cool
water, and, after covering her with a sheet, turned to look at him.
He stood staring at Eleanor, his dark eyes tormented by fear.
‘She wil be more comfortable in a moment, my lord,’
Anastasia comforted him. They have kept her too warm—but
they did not know what they did was wrong. You must not
punish them. We al love Eleanor, because she has been so kind
to us. No one else would seek to harm her.’
‘What makes any of you think I blame you for this?’
‘We have been told t
hat we may al be punished if she dies,’
Rosamunde said from behind him. ‘We have done our best for
her, my lord—but none of us had any true skil in nursing.’
Suleiman nodded, eyes narrowing. This was yet another of his
harem he hardly recognised. A lovely woman, but one that left
harem he hardly recognised. A lovely woman, but one that left
him untouched—what was she doing here, wasting her youth?
‘How is my lady?’ he asked as he turned back to Anastasia.
‘Can you save her? Wil she die of her wounds?’
Anastasia smiled and shook her head. ‘She is nowhere near
as il as the Janissary you summoned me to nurse—she has a
fever and her wound must be lanced again to let out a little pus,
but she wil live, my lord. Had I been here sooner, she would not
have been drugged—it is the drugs that have robbed her of her
senses and frightened everyone else. Once they are no longer
holding her mind prisoner, she wil know us again.’
Suleiman controled his desire to shout his relief aloud. ‘Why
have you so much knowledge when the physicians seem to have
so little?’
Anastasia smiled and shook her head. ‘That is not true, my
lord. The physician has closed the wound more skilfuly than I
could—but he was not wise to keep her so heavily drugged.
And the others did not understand the importance of making sure
she was cool. Now that I am here we shal soon reduce the
fever.’
‘How can I repay you for al that you have done?’
‘You have already repaid me by giving me the freedom to
serve others. I am a simple woman, my lord. I was born to serve
and I have al that I need.’
‘You have not been unhappy here?’
‘Only a little, sometimes—when Fatima was unkind to one of
us.’
‘Yes, Fatima.’ Suleiman nodded, his expression hardening as
‘Yes, Fatima.’ Suleiman nodded, his expression hardening as
he recaled that she was responsible for Eleanor lying here
injured. ‘You wil send me word of my lady—good or bad?’
‘Do not fear, my lord. Eleanor wil soon recover her health.
She is young and strong and the fever wil soon pass.’
Suleiman nodded, and then he walked to the bed and bent to
kiss Eleanor’s brow. She stirred, moaned a little and whispered
something he could not quite catch.
‘Rest, my darling,’ he said in a voice so low that no one else
could hear. ‘I—I need you.’
Suleiman’s shoulders squared as he left the bedside. He had
work to do—things that had been neglected these past two
days. As he emerged from Eleanor’s apartment, the other
women fel back and looked at him uncertainly. He lifted his
hand to gain their attention, and then spoke to them in a voice
devoid of emotion.
‘You have none of you anything to fear from me,’ he said.
‘Only those who have harmed my lady shal be punished. Karin
wil come to you soon. She wil ask you for the truth of this affair.
When I have al the facts before me, the guilty shal be punished
as the law demands. I shal take no petty revenge. Karin wil
discuss other things with you—you may speak to her freely
without fear. That is my sworn word.’
The silence continued for several minutes after he had left,
until curiosity at last forced them to ask, ‘What did he mean?
What must we confess to Karin?’
Only Marisa held her silence. She remembered what Eleanor
Only Marisa held her silence. She remembered what Eleanor
had told her and kept her promise not to reveal anything until
Karin was wel enough to give them the news herself.
Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered. She was aware of feeling very
tired, and her arm was painful. She moaned and opened her
eyes, looking up into Karin’s anxious face.
‘So at last you are come to yourself again. You foolish,
foolish child,’ Karin said, her tone sounding relieved rather than
scolding. ‘Did I not warn you to be careful?’
‘Water…’ Eleanor pleaded. She was becoming more
conscious of the pain in her arm and her mouth felt dry. ‘What
happened to me?’
‘Fatima sent you poisoned fruit. You chalenged her and she
stabbed you in the arm. Thankfuly, you must have taken her by
surprise for the knife was not contaminated with poison—as it
wel might have been.’
‘Oh, yes…’ Eleanor sighed. She vaguely remembered
something but her mind was stil hazy. Rosamunde brought her
water and she sipped it gratefuly. ‘Thank you. What time is it?’
‘It is morning,’ Karin replied. ‘You have had a fever, Eleanor.
It is five days now since this happened.’
‘Five days…’ She struggled to sit up, but found she was too
weak and fel back against the pilows. ‘What of my lord’s
friend…he was near to dying?’
‘He is much better,’ Anastasia said, bending over her to lay a
hand on her forehead. ‘Ah, so are you, my lady. The fever has
hand on her forehead. ‘Ah, so are you, my lady. The fever has
gone and you wil mend now.’
‘You have been nursing me?’
‘Since my return three days ago. My other patient does wel;
I have but this minute returned from seeing him.’
‘Thank you…al of you.’ Eleanor sighed and closed her eyes
once more.
She woke again that evening, feeling better. Rosamunde was
sitting with her now and smiled at her.
‘Are you hungry, my lady? Anastasia said that we should give
you a little nourishing broth if you woke. Morna wil prepare it
for you—though none here would seek to harm you now.’
‘Fatima?’ Eleanor whispered.
‘Gone, my lady. We shal not see her again.’
Eleanor nodded, satisfied. Suleiman had sent her home as
he’d promised. She need not concern herself further.
‘Has Karin gone? She was here earlier. I meant to ask if she
had recovered from her sickness?’
‘Karin is wel,’ Rosamunde replied. ‘She has spent the last
few days talking to everyone. We have been promised nothing
yet—but it seems we may be given our freedom should we wish
it. Anastasia has already been granted hers, but she chooses to
remain here—though she is alowed to go where she pleases
within certain areas of the palace. She has not been out yet, but
Karin said that a eunuch wil take her to the city markets if she
desires it.’
desires it.’
Eleanor nodded. It seemed that Suleiman was keeping al his
promises. She was too tired to inquire further for the moment.
She did not ask and was not told that her lord had come three
times to visit her while she was in the grip of the fever.
Rosamunde went on, ‘I think I shal stay—if you want me, my
lady. I have nothing to return to now. My life is here…’
‘Yes, yes, please stay,’ Eleanor said and smiled at her. ‘If
Morna would fetch me something, I think I might try to eat a
little…’
‘You must eat,’ Rosamunde agreed. ‘We have al
been so
worried for you, my lady.’
Eleanor closed her eyes once more as Rosamunde went
away to order the food. She stil felt desperately tired, but the
drugging heaviness was gradualy fading. Soon she would begin
to feel more like herself.
She ought to ask something, but she could not control her
thoughts, could not remember what she wanted to know. Al she
desired was to rest and be wel again and then… She was not
sure what would happen then. Suleiman had said that they must
observe the customs. Of course she could not expect him to visit
her—why should he? A sigh of regret issued from her lips.
If he loved her he would have come—but he merely desired
her. He was marrying her because he thought her best fitted from
amongst the concubines to bear his sons. She had no choice.
She must obey, because he was her master.
‘Do you bring me news of my lady?’ Suleiman asked eagerly
as Karin came in answer to his request. ‘You said that she had
taken food and was able to sit up and talk to her friends—there
has been no relapse?’
‘Eleanor improves with every hour,’ Karin replied, smiling at
the way his eyes seemed to darken and glow at the mention of
his intended bride. ‘She insisted on getting out of bed, and with
help has been sitting in the gardens this morning.’
‘Is she wel enough to be out of bed so soon? It is barely
eight days since I saw her lying in a fever.’
‘She is very strong, my lord.’ Karin frowned, hesitated, then
decided she must speak. ‘Her arm is healing wel and it seems
she wil be able to use it normaly once the soreness has gone—
but I fear there wil be a scar.’
Suleiman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you hesitate to tel me
this? Do you imagine that I care for such details? My lady is
alive. I thank Alah for her life—a scar means less than nothing.’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord. I had not realised…quite what
she means to you.’
‘And you wil keep your new-found knowledge to yourself,
Karin,’ he replied with a rueful smile. ‘I would not have Eleanor
know—yet.’
‘Ah…’ Karin nodded, smiling now herself. ‘I believe the lady
Eleanor can sometimes be a little headstrong, my lord.’
‘Yes.’ His mouth quirked at the memory of various instances
of her stubbornness. ‘That is very true, Karin. Now, to other
matters—you have questioned the concubines? They are al
