Bianca

by Small Bertrice

  Still, he made certain that Diya al Din posted slaves on the hills to give them advance warning of any visitors.

  They heard nothing for the next few weeks. Spring moved into early summer.

  Finally, late one June morning, the watchers on the hills surrounding the Moonlight Serai began signaling from one to another and finally to the little palace itself that a large party of riders was approaching. Amir sent word to his wives, and then they waited—Amir in his own quarters, the three women in theirs.

  “It will be the Janissaries,” Maysun said, and Shahdi nodded.

  “Why are you so afraid of these Janissaries?” Azura asked. “You speak of them as if they were the devil’s own soldiers.”

  “They are!” Shahdi replied.

  “The Janissaries are the young sons of Christians taken in war,” Maysun explained. “They are then cosseted and cared for with great kindness, converted to Islam, and finally trained in the fiercest warfare and taught total loyalty to the sultan. Whomever the Janissaries follow will be sultan. If truth be told, the Conqueror preferred Jem among his sons because of his warlike proclivities, despite the fact that the prince was always rebelling against his father. But the Janissaries lean towards Bayezit, for he embodies the old traditions of the Ottomans. It is likely the Janissaries approaching this palace have been sent by Bayezit to either ascertain our husband’s position in the succession or kill us all.”

  For this she had fled Florence, fled Venice, given up her family? To die at the hands of strangers in some stupid war over a succession? Azura felt fear filling her. Angrily she forced it back down. “We are not going to die,” she said.

  “No,” Shahdi replied. “With luck, after we are all raped, we’ll be given to some officer or sold to add coinage to the Janissaries’ already fat coffers.”

  Maysun gave a little sob.

  “Stop it, both of you!” Azura said. “No one is going to die today. What a pair of silly ewe sheep you two are. I am going to the spy hole in our husband’s apartment to learn what is happening. Don’t tell Ali Farid if you can find him. I expect he has hidden himself away by now. Agata, come with me!”

  The two women hurried from the harem apartments, making their way quickly to Prince Amir’s quarters. The corridors of the little palace were empty and quiet, for all but the bravest among the slaves would have hidden themselves by now. Quietly Azura and Agata secreted themselves within the narrow confines of the spy hole. Amir was pacing his antechamber with slow, measured steps. He was dressed soberly in a dark blue silk robe trimmed with silver embroidery. His head was covered by a small matching turban. Azura worried that he might look too regal.

  They heard the sound of booted feet in the corridor. Agata reached out to clutch at her mistress’s sleeve. Azura stared intently through the spy hole, her eyes meeting those of Amir. He knew she was there. The large double doors to the prince’s apartment were flung open by two frightened slaves who nonetheless had remained. Diya al Din was with them. He was ashen in color but he too had stayed.

  “My lord prince,” the head eunuch spoke. “You have visitors.”

  A Janissary captain stepped forward. He bowed respectfully. “Prince Amir, I am Captain Mahmud, sent by your uncle, Sultan Bayezit,” he began.

  “Is my grandfather dead?” Amir asked the captain.

  “The Conqueror died on the fourth of May at the hour of afternoon prayer,” Captain Mahmud said.

  Amir briefly closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer. When he opened his eyes again he looked directly at the Janissary. “How may I serve the sultan?” he asked the man before him.

  “I have no instructions other than to deliver my message to you, Highness,” was the reply. Captain Mahmud understood the delicate position of this Ottoman prince.

  The prince turned briefly to Diya al Din. “See that the captain’s men are well fed, and their horses taken care of,” Amir instructed the head of his household staff.

  The eunuch bowed. “At once, my prince,” he replied.

  Amir now turned his attention back to the Janissary. “I am grateful that my uncle thought to send me word,” he said.

  Captain Mahmud’s lips twitched with amusement but he answered politely, “And I am grateful for your hospitality, as my men will be. We will, however, begin our return to the capital as soon as they have eaten and the horses have been taken care of by your slaves.”

  “My wives will be relieved,” Amir responded with a grin. “The approach of your troop frightened them.”

  “I hope the children were not afraid,” Captain Mahmud said.

  “There are no children,” Amir replied. “But come and join me in some refreshment.” He clapped his hands, and to his relief his slaves hurried in with sweet, cold fruit sherbets and a light meal of roasted chicken, saffron rice, and warm flat bread with a dish of yogurt mixed with dill and cucumbers for dipping.

  The two men sat companionably upon the cushions about a small ebony-and-ivory-inlaid table.

  “Women with children tend to give all their attention to their offspring,” Captain Mahmud noted. “Women without children give all their attention to their lord and master. That is a good thing, eh, Highness?” And he chuckled.

  Amir nodded. “I must admit my wives spoil me terribly, and I feel no lack at being childless,” he said. Then he leaned forward, dipping a piece of bread in the sauce, putting it in his mouth, and chewing it thoughtfully. “Tell me what is happening, Captain. I cannot believe my father has taken my uncle’s decision either lightly or easily.”

  Captain Mahmud put a piece of chicken in his mouth and scooped up some rice. “No,” he said, then swallowed. “Your uncle managed to reach Istanbul first, where we had already taken control of the city for him.”

  “My grandfather’s Grand Vizier favored my father,” Amir remarked.

  “We executed him before the new sultan arrived in the city, and also intercepted and executed his emissaries to Prince Jem,” Captain Mahmud said.

  All but one, Amir thought, realizing now who had sent the messenger to him warning him of the changes to come. “And my father?” he asked.

  “Is rousing the Turcoman tribes to fight for supremacy in this quarrel,” the Janissary captain said. “I must admit to admiring Prince Jem’s fiery spirit, Highness, but he will not prevail.”

  “No,” Amir said, “he will not. Does my uncle wish me to return to Istanbul with you?”

  “No, no, that is not necessary, Highness. You are content here in your little palace, and the sultan knows he has your complete and total loyalty,” Captain Mahmud replied, smiling toothily.

  “Indeed, the sultan does have my complete loyalty,” Amir responded.

  “Then there is nothing more to say,” Captain Mahmud answered.

  As he had ceased eating, a slave brought a bowl of rose water and a linen napkin for his hands. The Janissary washed the grease and other food residue from his fingers, and dried them. Amir did the same. Then both men rose as Diya al Din came to tell his master that the Janissary troop had been fed and their mounts cared for, and were now ready to depart.

  “Let me escort you to your horse,” Amir said. “Please convey to my uncle, the sultan, my grateful thanks for sending me word of what is transpiring. He has honored my house.” The prince bowed to Captain Mahmud, who bowed in return before mounting his animal. Amir stood politely as the Janissary troop, in their distinctive red and green uniforms upon their brown horses, wheeled about and galloped off. “Make certain they go,” the prince instructed his head eunuch. “Send to the watchers on the hillsides to be certain. Tell them they are to remain at their posts until I instruct them otherwise.”

  “At once, Highness,” Diya al Din said.

  “Then gather the slaves so I may tell them what they should know,” Amir told the eunuch before returning back into his home and going to the harem quarters, where his women awaited him anxiously.

  Azura came immediately to him, and his arms wrapped about her bri
efly. “I listened,” she said.

  “I know,” he answered, then drew her down onto the cushions with the others. “Sultan Mehmet is no more,” he told them. “My uncle has seized the throne, and is now Sultan Bayezit. My father is already fighting him, but I believe we are safe. My uncle knows I will not join my father. I have no soldiers or adherents to trouble the sultan. There are no heirs of my body. I am no threat to Bayezit.”

  “Then why did he find it necessary to send a full troop of Janissaries to tell you of your grandfather’s passing?” the suspicious Shahdi wanted to know.

  “My uncle was displaying his newfound power,” Amir replied with a chuckle. “He knows my home is not defendable. He was showing me his authority over us.”

  “Are the Janissaries really gone?” Azura asked.

  “I believe so, but the watchers on our hills will tell us if they have not returned. From now on I shall keep a watch so that we will not be taken unawares.”

  “What will happen if your father does not cease his strife?” Maysun wanted to know. “Will the sultan punish us?”

  “My uncle is a patient man, more like his grandfather Sultan Murad,” Amir answered his first wife. He could see his women were frightened by this new turn of events, and it disturbed him that they should be so. “The sultan will find a way to quiet my father’s ambitions,” he assured them.

  But Prince Jem was a determined man. Where Bayezit was more serious, patient, and contemplative, his brother was a more romantic figure, a brilliant soldier, and oddly an extremely talented poet. Bayezit held to the great traditions of the Ottoman, which was why the Janissaries favored him so greatly. Jem, however, looked to Western Europe and change. The Janissaries did not want change.

  Jem raised a force of Turcoman warriors and captured the city of Bursa, declaring himself sultan. He reigned supreme for almost three weeks. He offered to split the empire with Bayezit. Jem would rule in Asia and Bayezit in Europe. The sultan in Istanbul instead appointed the great Janissary hero, Gedik Ahmed Pasha, to lead his troops against Prince Jem. Bayezit was the first of the Ottoman sultans not to lead his own soldiers, but to instead send a competent commander. Twice, Jem was defeated, but Gedik Pasha could not capture him, and Jem was finally driven into exile.

  But even in exile, he agitated resentments against his brother. Amir’s trading vessels brought him word of his father’s travels as he escaped. Jem moved through Jerusalem to Cairo, where he sought sanctuary with the Mamluk sultan, Kait Bey. He made a holy pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, then returned to Ottoman territory to once more attempt to wrest the throne from his brother. This time, however, his army deserted him before the gates of the city of Angora. Jem fled south to the Cilicia and the Mediterranean.

  Still, the sultan tried to appease his brother, offering him a generous income. “The empire is a bride that cannot be shared between two rivals,” he told Jem. Bayezit was saddened when his sibling, refusing to understand, sought refuge with the Knights Hospitaliers on the island of Rhodes. Of course he was received with honor, the Christians delighted to have the sultan’s brother in their midst to use as a pawn. The sultan then signed a treaty with the order’s Grand Master paying the knights forty-five thousand pieces of gold each year Prince Jem remained in their care.

  Word of all of this filtered back to Prince Amir in bits and pieces. It came via his own trading ship captains, who were instructed to learn all they could of Prince Jem’s activities. Amir did not intend being taken unawares if he could avoid it. He was not of a mind to suffer for his father’s rebellions. His uncle was being very patient, but eventually the sultan would lose his patience. He had done everything to pacify his brother, but Jem refused to be mollified.

  But to Amir’s relief, his uncle did not seem to consider his nephew culpable for his father’s actions. Captain Mahmud’s Janissary troop had gone back to Istanbul. Life at the Moonlight Serai took on a regular and almost placid pace. The prince’s trading vessels came and went regularly. The seasons came and went. Azura often thought how surprised her mother would be to learn of the quiet life her daughter now lived. She wondered if Francesca had managed to capture Enzo’s heart; how her younger sisters were growing up. Did they ever think of her? Or was Orianna so angered at having been foiled in her plans for the daughter she had named Bianca that her name was never spoken in the palazzo of the Pietro d’Angelos?

  And then one day she was surprised in a way she had not expected. Her husband came to her after speaking with one of his vessel captains. He carried a sealed letter, which he handed to her. Azura took it from him, a questioning look upon her face.

  “What is this?” she asked him.

  “Someone has written to you,” he answered. “It was given to one of my captains in Bursa, beloved. Open it.”

  Azura broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes widened at the familiar hand. “It is from my brother Marco,” she told him as she quickly scanned the missive. “He would come and see me, Amir.”

  She saw the prince’s face tighten with suppressed anger, and quickly said, “I do not need to see him, Amir. We will ignore this.” She slowly folded the parchment.

  “I wonder what he was doing in Bursa,” she said, almost to herself.

  “The Silk Road comes to an end in Bursa. He was undoubtedly there on your father’s business,” Amir told her.

  “But how did he know how to find me?” Azura wondered.

  “He undoubtedly learned of my ships, and sought out any of my captains in that port,” the prince reasoned. “That was very clever of him.”

  “I never thought Marco particularly clever,” Azura said drily.

  “Do you want to see him?” Amir asked her.

  “I do,” she admitted, “but if it disturbs you, I will not. Perhaps it is better to let sleeping dogs lie, my lord.”

  “No!” he replied, swallowing his pride and his anger that Azura’s family was again attempting to interfere in their lives. “Your family is curious, and will once more attempt to lure you back to them. Let him come! I will not release you, beloved. I will not!”

  Now Azura laughed, and slid her arms about his neck, her body pressing against his. “I don’t want to go back, Amir, my dearest love. I am simply curious about why Marco has chosen this moment to contact me, although he is undoubtedly curious about this life I live with you. I held him responsible for my marriage to Rovere. I believe he wants to see if I am happy with you. If you would have him come, then let it be according to your word. I am content to abide by it.” She kissed him a long, sweet kiss.

  Wrapping his arms about her, he enjoyed the kiss. How long had they been together now? Almost three years, and he was as happy now as the day he had brought her to the Moonlight Serai. No, happier, he reconsidered. “He may come, but he must sleep on the ship that brings him. I’ll tell my captain.” He kissed her a long, hard kiss.

  How vulnerable he is, Azura suddenly thought, enjoying his possession. “Of course, my dearest lord.”

  “He will not meet the others,” Amir said.

  “Certainly not!” Azura responded, shocked. She had come to have certain Turkish sensibilities. A man’s harem was sacrosanct.

  “And you will visit with each other in the salon used for visitors,” Amir told her.

  “Perhaps the garden as well,” she suggested.

  “If your companion wives do not wish to walk,” he added.

  “You are most generous, my lord,” she said.

  “You are making fun of me,” he accused her.

  “This is my older brother who wishes to visit, Amir, not a former suitor,” she replied, laughing softly.

  “Any other man who attempted to visit you who is not my uncle or my father would find himself with his throat slit,” the prince told her seriously.

  “Then I shall certainly tell Marco not to reveal the location of my home to anyone else, my lord,” she said. “I should not want the blood of innocents on my hands.”

  “Azura, this is
serious,” he said. “It is unusual for the family of a woman such as yourself to come visiting under such circumstances. I don’t want to allow your brother here, but I can see it means a great deal to you. I will always strive to please you, beloved.” He sighed. “You know how much I love you.”

  “Loving me does not mean just possessing me, Amir,” she said, gently chiding him. “You must trust me, for I would never betray you in any way. I have an opportunity to do what so many women who are brought to the empire do not. I can tell my family I am well, and gloriously happy with you. Happier than I have ever been in all of my life. Being your wife suits me even if I must share you with Maysun and Shahdi. That is what I would tell my brother so he may tell our family. Let there be no doubts about how I feel. I love you, my lord Amir. Only death will part us.”

  “I am a jealous fool,” he declared.

  “You are,” she agreed, “and I am flattered by it, but I shall see Marco and reassure him of my happiness. Whether he agrees with me or not, he will tell our family what I have said.”

  Marco Pietro d’Angelo was brought across the Sea of Marmara and through the Strait of the Bosphorus into the Black Sea. When the ship anchored just off the north coast he could just see the white marble of the palace on the green hills above. He was rowed ashore, and met by a tall, handsome, fair-skinned man with deep blue eyes and dark hair who didn’t look foreign at all.

  “I am Amir ibn Jem,” the prince said, introducing himself. “Welcome to my home.”

  Marco bowed in spite of himself. The man before him had presence and dignity. “I am Marco Pietro d’Angelo, Bianca’s older brother,” he responded. “I must assume you have brought me here so I may see my sister.”

  “Come!” the prince said, not bothering to answer his visitor’s question. “We must climb this hill to get to the palace where your sister awaits you.”

  The prince climbed easily and quickly, but Marco, not used to physical exercise, was slower. By the time they reached the top of the hill he was puffing and out of breath.