Adora

by Bertrice Small

  The woman bowed out of her mistress’s presence and delivered the message to the chief eunuch. She was about to return when his voice stopped her.

  “What is your name, woman?”

  “Iris, master.” Her head was bowed.

  “Do you deal well with your mistress?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Does she confide in you?”

  “Confide what, master?” Iris pretended stupidity.

  “Anything. Little secrets? Girlish dreams and hopes?”

  Iris raised her eyes and looked directly at the eunuch. “Master,” she said quietly, “my little mistress has been cloistered here since her childhood. The only one she ever sees is the elderly priest who is her spiritual advisor. She leaves the convent but rarely. What possible secrets could she have? She confides in no one since she has no one. The palace slaves sent to serve the princess are rotated on a three-month basis, which hardly gives her time to make friends. Most serve her only once, but I have been asked to come back several times.”

  “Why?” He observed her from beneath his hooded eyelids.

  “Because I would advance myself, master. I was not always a slave.”

  “I will appoint you chief waiting-woman to Princess Theadora. In return, you will keep me fully informed about her life. She will go to the sultan soon. Now tell me, when was her last show of blood?”

  The woman thought, then said, “Almost two weeks ago, master.”

  “Exactly how many days from the first showing of blood, Iris?”

  “Twelve, master.”

  The eunuch frowned. “She must go today else we will be forced to wait another month,” said the chief white eunuch almost to himself. “Pack nothing for your mistress. All will be provided.”

  “She is scholarly, master. She will want her books. She is not idle, like other women.”

  The eunuch looked surprised. But he was not an unkind man. “Very well, Iris, I will see that the princess’s books are sent to the palace. But not today. We barely have time to do what must be done.” He reached into his voluminous robes and, drawing out two packets, thrust them at her. “Give your mistress the powders in the blue packet before you leave here. She is to have the other one at sunset.”

  “Please, master,” said Iris boldly, “what are they? I would not harm her.”

  “The powders are drugs to relax her and prepare her virgin body for her husband’s attentions this night. But you are presumptuous, Iris! Do not ask questions of me or I will withdraw your appointment.”

  The door to the antechamber opened and Theadora entered. The eunuch quickly scrutinized her with a practiced eye. He was pleased. Her stature was regal. She was slimmer than his master liked, but the high, full, cone-shaped breasts more than made up for that. She had clear, fair skin and amethyst-colored eyes…or were they violet? The shining dark hair hung to her hips. She even had well-formed white teeth. These were all signs of excellent physical and mental health.

  The eunuch bowed politely. “I am Ali Yahya, Your Royal Highness. You are the most blessed of women, my princess. Your lord husband—Sultan Orkhan, son of the sultan of the Ghazis; Ghazi, son of Ghazi; Marquis of the Hero of the World—has chosen this night to be your night of nights. Your marriage, celebrated when you were but a child, will be consummated this night. May Allah bless you, and may you be fruitful with my master’s seed.”

  Theadora looked at him, blankly, for a moment. Then she turned deathly pale and crumpled to the floor. The eunuch looked down on her still form. She was very lovely. The sultan would be quite pleased. “Virgin vapors,” he pronounced to Iris who was kneeling by the girl, patting her wrists. “I will send a litter for you in one hour. Be ready.”

  When Theadora came to herself she found her shoulders supported by Iris’ strong arm. A cup of wine was being forced between her lips. “Drink, my princess, and do not be afraid. Ali Yahya has appointed me your chief waiting woman. I will not leave you, and no matter what that fat slug may think, I will be loyal to you alone! Drink, my baby. It will help.”

  Theadora gulped at the wine, her mind whirling. What had suddenly possessed the sultan? Could he have found out about Prince Murad? No! It was not possible. Why then?

  “When are we to go to the palace?” she asked.

  “The litter comes in less than an hour.”

  Oh, sweet Jesu! There was no time to send for Murad and, once at the palace, she dare not communicate with him. Oh, God! This was to be her punishment. If she had not committed adultery in fact, she had certainly committed it in her heart and now God was punishing her. To be wife to an old man while loving his son! They would live within the same palace, possibly even see each other, and never be able to speak! Theadora began to weep violently.

  Not understanding the true nature of her mistress’s grief, Iris tried to comfort her. “Do not weep, my baby. It was bound to come, and all women must accept their fate. I would, of course, wish that you had a younger husband, but they do say the sultan is still very potent—and a good lover.” Seeing that Theadora’s eyes were shut in her agony, Iris slipped the contents of the first packet into the wine. Then she watched as the girl drained it, unaware that it was drugged.

  There was no time left. The nuns were in the courtyard, crowding about her to bid her Godspeed, farewell. “If you can help the Christian captives and slaves, Highness,” said Mother Marie Josepha, “please do. Their lot is so bad, and it is your duty. We stand ready here to aid you in all your charitable endeavors.”

  Theadora nodded dumbly and allowed them to help her into the large litter. Iris climbed in after her, drawing the curtains shut, and they were away. The slavewoman looked at the pale girl opposite her. The princess said nothing, made no sound at all, yet the tears continued to pour down her cheeks. Iris was worried.

  She had been a slave for only five years, but her knowledge of the world was greater than most. These were not the tears of a frightened bride. They were the tears of a brokenhearted woman. But what had she to be broken-hearted about? Iris knew that Theadora did not wish to become a nun, so that was not it. There was only one other possibility, and it was so farfetched as to be absurd. Still…looking back over the princess’s behavior during these last two months, Iris began to understand many things.

  Iris took a deep breath. What she was about to do was very dangerous. She had no proof and, cornered, the princess could instantly order her death. Iris leaned forward and said, very quietly, “If we are to talk, Highness, it must be now. Once we are in the palace we will be constantly spied upon, not only by the chief eunuch’s underlings, but by those in the pay of the sultan’s other two wives—and God only knows how many of his favorites. They will all seek to discredit you in an effort to advance themselves. If you would unburden yourself and tell me what troubles you, it must be now. Please, Highness. I wish to remain your friend, and it is obvious to me that you weep for a man.”

  The violet eyes that raised themselves to hers were so filled with raw pain that Iris nearly wept herself. “I will tell you,” said Theadora, “for I must tell someone, or I will go mad. If you betray me you would be doing me a kindness for I would as soon be dead now.” And slowly the tender little story came out, haltingly, until there was nothing left to say.

  Iris sighed. It would not be easy, but having allowed her mistress to shift some of the burden to her own shoulders, she could now concentrate on preparing the girl for what was to come.

  “I will try to speak with the prince myself,” she promised Theadora, and was rewarded by a smile that lit the girl’s whole being. “But, my lady, you must accept the fact that you are the sultan’s wife. Tonight he will consummate that marriage, and you must accept that as fact also.”

  “I thought he had forgotten me, Iris. Never since he brought me to St. Catherine’s has he even acknowledged my existence. Why now?”

  “I do not know, my princess, but I think the answers we seek are to be found at the sultan’s palace. A word of warning, however, my
princess. You are so innocent, and do not know the wicked ways of people. At the palace you must trust no one but me. When we wish to speak privately we must do so out of doors only. There are listeners everywhere.”

  “You have been in the palace, Iris. What is it like? Will I have privacy, or do all the women live together?”

  “One section of the palace is set aside for the women, but the wives and the favorites have their own apartments and rooms within this section. The chief eunuch appointed me your waiting woman, but you will be assigned other slaves and eunuchs. Your rank demands it.”

  “Can we trust them, Iris?”

  “No! They will all be spies for someone or other. But we will tolerate them for now, until we can choose our own people. Do not fear, my princess, I will protect you.”

  The litter stopped, the curtains were drawn back, and Ali Yahya was handing Theadora out into a tiled courtyard. “Please to follow me, Your Highness,” he said. They followed him through a maze of corridors until he stopped before a single carved door and, opening it, led them into a small room. “Your bedroom is through there, princess.”

  Iris looked unbelievingly about her. These two small rooms for her mistress? She said a quick silent prayer that she would live to see the next day, and rounded on the chief eunuch. “Is my mistress some slavegirl that you insult her in this fashion? These rooms are not fit for a dog let alone an emperor’s daughter! Two tiny rooms with two barred windows overlooking an inner courtyard? Where is her garden? Where are her servants?”

  “Your mistress has not yet found favor with my master.”

  “My mistress does not have to find favor with your master,” answered Iris boldly. “She is the emperor’s daughter! Why, her servants at St. Catherine’s were better housed than this! How the sultan will enjoy his wedding night when his bride complains of her apartments, I do not know.”

  Ali Yahya looked uncomfortable. He did not believe that there was any chance of this inexperienced girl pleasing his very experienced, jaded master. Still, it could happen. And if it did…

  “You fill the position I assigned to you most admirable, Iris,” he said sourly. “This is but a place for your mistress to rest. It was imperative that we bring her to the palace today, but her apartments could not be made ready in time. In another hour they will be fit to receive the princess. I will send a girl with something to eat, and by then all will be perfect,” he concluded, and gathering the shreds of his dignity about him, he departed quickly.

  “Humph,” sniffed Iris. “The only snake wriggled out of that one fast enough.”

  “It does not matter,” said Theadora softly.

  “Yes it does! Whatever happens, my child, you must never forget that you are Theadora Cantacuzene, Emperor John’s daughter. Hold your head up in this place, my lady, else you will be overcome by your inferiors.”

  Within the hour they were brought to a spacious suite containing six large, airy rooms and its own beautiful walled garden with several tiled fountains and a view of the mountains. “My lady is well pleased,” said Iris loftily, noting the dozen slavegirls and two black eunuchs.

  Ali Yahya nodded. “Take your lady to the mistress of baths immediately. It will take the rest of the afternoon to prepare her for tonight.”

  Usually the harem baths were noisy and full of chattering women. This afternoon, however, the women of the sultan’s house were being entertained by an elderly Egyptian magician. The bath mistress greeted Theadora briskly and before the startled princess knew what was happening she found herself completely stripped and her nude body subjected to a most thorough inspection. Her most intimate parts were squeezed, pulled apart, prodded, even smelled for signs of disease. Theadora blushed to the roots of her hair and felt a helpless sense of outraged shame.

  Finally satisfied, the bath mistress stepped back. “Your body is flawless and healthy, Highness. You are as fresh as a new rose. I am relieved, for the sultan dislikes blemish of any kind. We can proceed now.”

  Theadora had the urge to laugh. They were all so seriously concerned about her pleasing the sultan, yet she herself didn’t care. All she wanted was to be back at St. Catherine’s convent, preparing to meet Murad in the orchard. Murad! Murad! She silently intoned his name over and over as the women spread a pink paste smelling of almonds over the haired areas of her body.

  Unknown to Theadora, the men’s baths were on the other side of the harem baths. And while she stood, quietly submitting, Orkhan’s favorite sons, Suleiman and Murad, sat companionably talking within the hot room.

  “What is there to the rumor that John Cantacuzene seeks our aid against his son-in-law?” asked Murad.

  “It’s true,” Suleiman assured him. “That’s why the maidenhead of the Princess Theadora will be breached tonight.”

  Murad felt a wave of dizziness assail him. Unknowing, his brother continued. “The old man might have left the girl in her convent, but her father insisted that all the terms of the marriage contract be fulfilled. Our father couldn’t resist the final third of the little Byzantine’s dowry. That includes Tyzmpe, and I am going to be sent to command the fort. Want to come along?”

  “Is the princess here yet?” Murad hoped he sounded casual.

  “Yes. She’s a pretty piece, though a bit too pale to suit my taste. I caught a glimpse of her when she arrived this afternoon. Probably scared, poor little girl. Well, by morning she’ll be well-tamed. Our father may be old, but he can still leave a woman begging for more. May we be as potent as long, eh brother?”

  “Yes, yes,” said Murad absently, his whole heart going out to Theadora, his dove, his precious little love.

  Suleiman chattered on. “The lady Anastatia says that the little princess probably put her father up to improving her position. She says all the Cantacuzenes are ambitious.”

  “I’ve had enough steam,” said Murad, rising. Walking out into the tepidarium, he grabbed a basin and vomited into it. “Damned fish must have been tainted,” he muttered, shoving the basin into a slave’s hands. After rinsing his mouth with mint water, he donned his clothes and found his way to his mother’s apartments.

  To his immense surprise Anastatia was with Nilufer. “Is it true?” he demanded brusquely. “Is the old satyr taking the Byzantine girl to his bed tonight?”

  “Yes,” said Nilufer. She was a handsome woman in her mid-forties. Her wheat-colored hair still shone with golden lights, and her amber eyes were bright and wise. “Anastatia and I were just discussing this very unusual turn of events and how to meet them.”

  “The girl is ambitious,” said Ibrahim’s mother.

  “She is just like all the Cantacuzenes—greedy and venal. I should know. Is not the emperor my cousin? The girl obviously became bored in her convent and complained to her father. But after Orkhan’s had at her, she may wish she was back there.” Anastatia laughed cruelly.

  Murad stared hard at this woman who had always been their enemy. She was ten years his mother’s senior, petite with steel grey hair, and the coldest blue eyes he’d ever seen. “What makes you two allies after all these years?”

  “Your father’s new wife,” said Anastatia honestly.

  “He married her years ago, and it didn’t bother you then. Nor did you and my mother become bosom friends over the matter.”

  “But tonight he takes her to his bed. If she proves fertile and bears him a son—” She looked levelly at him.

  “He would scarcely name an infant his heir over Suleiman or me, both grown men. Not at his age,” snapped Murad. “I hope, Mother, that you will have no part in a campaign of unkindness against this poor child. She will need friends here.” He angrily left the room.

  Allah! She was here! Within this very palace, and he could do nothing. Whatever his mother and Anastatia said about Theadora’s ambition, he knew it was untrue. He knew her. They did not. How frightened she must be, poor child, and shortly she would be delivered up to that oversexed old man. He felt the nausea gripping his guts again. He had to get a
way from the palace. He could not remain here this night, knowing that her innocence was being violated on the altar of greed.

  Suddenly, a heavily-veiled older woman glided out from the shadows. “The princess wants you to know that though this situation is not of her making, she will do her duty as she has been taught,” said the woman. And then she was gone.

  He almost cried aloud at the swiftly retreating figure. Then Prince Murad made determinedly for the stables and called for his horse. He mounted, rode through the palace gates and headed the animal into the autumn mountains.

  Chapter Four

  Theadora had never been so clean in her entire life. She had thought they would scrub her skin away. Except for her eyebrows, lashes, and long tresses, she was completely denuded of hair. Her fingernails and toenails had been pared to the quick. Allah forbid she offend her lord and master by scratching—even inadvertently—his royal person! Her long, straight, mahogany-colored hair shone with its lovely gold lights. Her skin glowed with good health. The soles of her feet and the palms of her hands were tinted pink with henna.

  But the amethyst eyes were worried, frightened. She did not understand all this haste, and when she tried to question Ali Yahya, he looked troubled, then brushed her question aside. “Princess, you have been married several years. Now that you have reached physical maturity the sultan wishes you to grace his bed. There is nothing odd in that.”

  She was, he could tell, not satisfied by the answer. He felt more uncomfortable than ever, for he suddenly realized that she was innocent of deceit. She simply did not wish to bed with the sultan. He was sure that, had her father not insisted on this, the girl would have remained quietly at St. Catherine’s. The realization made what he must do even harder for Ali Yahya.

  Precisely four hours after sunset Ali Yahya, accompanied by the lady Anastatia and the lady Nilufer, arrived at Theadora’s apartments to escort her to her destiny. The two older women, each dressed magnificently in silk garments heavy with gold embroidery and jeweled work, were a somewhat startling contrast to the young girl in her plain white silk robe.