The khislar halted before a side staircase and looked back at Sarah, who hastened to catch up with him. She could feel the stares, hear the escalating chatter behind her as she climbed the steps and followed him into a private chamber at the end of the upper hall.
A young girl was reclining on a divan in a room as ornately furnished as the lower floor, reading a book. She jumped to her feet and the slim volume slid to the rug when she saw Sarah.
She was exquisite, her shining black hair falling loosely to her waist, her huge doe’s eyes as dark as onyx and fringed with heavy lashes. She was wearing pink silk harem trousers with a full sleeved, amethyst blouse and had a wide silver sash encircling her tiny waist. Heavy pearls dangled from her ears and hung from a silver choker about her slender throat. A matching cap of silver mesh was thickly embroidered with seed pearls and perched rakishly on her small, neat head.
She startled Sarah by seizing her hand, kissing it and then holding it to her brow.
“My English teacher!” she said, beaming. “I am Roxalena. I am so happy to have you here. Tessekur ederim.”
“You are welcome, Princess,” Sarah replied. “I am very happy to be here.”
Roxalena made a gesture dismissing the khislar, who set down Sarah’s bag, bowed and left the room.
“My English is most very bad, please to excuse it,” Roxalena said, leading Sarah to the divan she had vacated and indicating that Sarah should sit. Roxalena then curled up like a cat next to her. “How are you calling yourself?”
“My name is Sarah.”
“And you are from the US of America, my father’s mapmaker has been showing me this place on his charts. It is very far?”
“Yes, very far.”
“And are all the women there dressed like you?”
“Most of them, yes.”
“But these are ugly clothes!” Roxalena said, with a sweeping motion of her hand. “Why do you wish to look like an old brown hen?”
Sarah smiled, thinking that the princess’ English was much better than she professed.
“I assure you, your highness, that this outfit is the latest fashion in my country.”
“And your yellow hair, that is common too?”
“Common enough.”
“And is it always bound up so?” she said, twirling her finger to indicate Sarah’s bun.
“Usually, your highness.”
“Bah!” Roxalena said. “I will give you some of my fine things and you will be looking most beautiful very soon, hair let down, most very pretty. And my father is the highness, not me. You have no highnesses in the US of America, true?”
“True.”
“And the women walk about the streets unveiled and run the government?” Roxalena said eagerly.
Sarah laughed. “Well, we don’t wear veils, and we are campaigning for the vote...”
“Vote?
“I’ll explain it all in due time, your...Roxalena.”
Roxalena nodded happily. “How long have you been in the Empire?” she asked.
“For several weeks.”
“And you had a sea journey to get here?”
“Yes, from New York to Paris. Then I took the train from Paris to Constantinople.”
“I am longing most sincerely to see Paris, France,” Roxalena said, sighing. “I have many books, but old ones mostly, in Turkish. They have pictures, but it’s not the same, is it?”
“No, it’s not the same.”
Roxalena looked around the gorgeous room, as if surveying the walls of a prison. “I will never see Paris,” she mournfully.
“Maybe you will.”
Roxalena shook her head. “It is written on my forehead that I will live out my life here.” She seized Sarah’s hand again. “That is why you are so important, you must be my eyes and ears, my window on the world. First, I must learn better English to read your books.”
“Princess, your English is excellent.”
“But I cannot read, I can only speak! It is most important that I learn your letters and the writing.”
“I can teach you that.”
“But will there be enough time before you go?” Roxalena said anxiously.
“We will work hard,” Sarah replied, smiling.
Roxalena clapped her hands delightedly. They were interrupted by a loud burst of girlish laughter from the first floor.
“What is that?” Sarah asked.
Roxalena put her finger to her lips and grabbed Sarah’s wrist with her free hand. She led Sarah out to the balcony and they both looked down into the open courtyard. The young women splashing gaily in the marble pool spied them and suddenly erupted into more giggles, covering their mouths.
“Silly asses,” Roxalena muttered wryly.
Sarah stared at her, trying not to grin. She wasn’t sure what she had expected of the imperial princess, but Roxalena was not it.
“Why are you annoyed with them?” Sarah asked, nodding toward the girls.
“Annoyed?”
“You just said they were silly.”
Roxalena shrugged. “They have heard today that Kalid Shah will be paying my father a visit on the Feast of the Flowers. They are plotting what to wear and how to act to catch his eye.”
“Is that the Pasha of Bursa?”
“You know of him? I was almost pledged to him but I told my father I would not marry him, that if he sent the betrothal ring I would take the almond poison and kill myself.”
“Why?” Sarah asked, aghast.
“I have met Kalid and there was no fire in his eyes at the prospect of our marriage. I will not go to a man who does not want me.”
Good for you, Sarah thought. Unfortunately, the rest of Roxalena’s countrywomen did not have her latitude to refuse.
“These silly girls,” Roxalena said, waving toward the bathing pool, “all hope that he will single one of them out and ask the Sultan to take her back to Bursa. Kalid has no kadin and, it is said, no favorite now.”
“Is that unusual?”
Roxalena rolled her eyes. “He thinks he is unusual, guzdar...”
Sarah raised her brows inquiringly.
“Special,” Roxalena said.
Several black eunuchs, their ebony hair covered with turbans, walked below them and began clearing away the food from the tables.
“Are there no white eunuchs in the harem?” Sarah asked.
“No, they attend upon my father in the selamlik, where he meets with his male visitors,” Roxalena replied.
As they watched the women in the pool one of the girls put her arm around her companion’s shoulder and bent to kiss her neck. The recipient of the kiss tilted her head back and then slipped her hand inside her friend’s blouse, caressing her breast. They whispered together for a moment and then climbed out of the pool. They ran, hand in hand, into an adjoining room.
Sarah looked away, embarrassed, but Roxalena merely shrugged.
“Often they are not chosen by the Sultan for a long time,” she said simply. “They make do with each other. And still others become addicted to the poppy and spend their days in opium dreams.”
Sarah listened in silence. She was not surprised to learn that harem life, seemingly so indolent, had its dark side.
Both women turned as the khislar appeared behind them and said something to Roxalena.
The Princess smiled at Sarah.
“My father wishes to meet you,” she said, obviously pleased. “To be summoned by the Sultan so soon, it is a very great honor. Come, we must make ready to see him. And after that we will have my very first English writing lesson!”
Chapter 2
“Tell her to take off her clothes,” Kosem said.
The slave trader translated the order into Greek, and the girl obediently shrugged off the robe she wore. The folds of cotton fell to the floor as the girl stood with downcast eyes, her naked beauty revealed to the world.
“Well, Kalid,” Kosem said, “isn’t she lovely?”
Kalid Shah glanced at his gr
andmother, then at the unfortunate young woman. Her hair, coated with butter to make it shine, was plaited elaborately, glowing like onyx in the lamplight. Small, perfect breasts jutted forward from her slender form, and a concave belly led down to a thick pubic bush curling densely between her long graceful legs.
“From Thessaly,” Kosem said with satisfaction, nodding at the slaver. “What do you think?”
“Very pretty, grandmother,” Kalid said.
“Very pretty? I pay thirteen hundred kurush for this girl and all you can say is ‘very pretty’?”
“I didn’t ask you to buy her,” Kalid said.
“Take her away,” Kosem said to the trader, who spat a harsh syllable and the girl scurried from the room. The trader bowed his way out. Kosem waited until they were both gone before she said to her grandson, “Kalid, I am old and likely to die soon.”
“You’ll outlive me,” Kalid replied, smiling.
“I want to see your son before I go. I want to know that your father’s name will live on.”
“Grandmother, we’ve had this conversation before.”
“And I’m not getting any younger.”
Kalid sighed.
“Yes, I know,” the old lady said sarcastically, “none of these girls is good enough for you.”
“I never said that.”
“You wouldn’t have the Princess Sultana!”
“Roxalena refused me.”
“She refused you because you obviously had no interest in her! You weren’t even polite enough to pretend.”
“She doesn’t want me and I don’t want her.”
“Want, what is this ‘want’? An idea for children! Do you think I ‘wanted’ your grandfather when I came to him? This grows with time. It is enough that you are man and woman, young enough to produce children, and your families wish the alliance.”
Kalid’s mouth tightened. “Talk to Roxalena, old woman, she was no happier about the match than I was.”
“She’s the Sultan’s daughter, do you think she would have a reluctant man forced upon her? She’s the toast of the empire! A chance to marry into the Sultan’s family and you throw it away. Masshallah, son of my son, you are a fool.”
Kalid took a sip of his boza, not bothering to reply.
The old lady leaned forward eagerly. “Kalid, get married. Marry anybody, this girl you have seen tonight or another one like her, so you can produce a legitimate heir. Then you can have other wives or as many courtesans as you want. Is it so much, to ask you to do this one thing for me before I pass from this world?”
“Grandmother, you are not passing anywhere.”
“There are rumors that you do not marry because you are useless with women and cannot father a son,” Kosem said craftily.
Kalid shot her a disgusted glance. This was beyond ridiculous, even for her.
“If your father were still alive he would order you to marry!” Kosem burst out, changing tactics again.
“My father is dead, and you are boring me,” Kalid said. “Watch your tongue, old woman, or you will wind up restricted to the harem with nothing to say.”
Kosem eyed him narrowly; his tolerance for his grandmother was legendary and she could get away with telling him things no one else would dare mention.
“You think I don’t know where you have gotten these ideas,” Kosem said flatly.
Kalid met her eyes, then looked away.
“Your English mother filled your head with English fairy tales, then died and left me to deal with the consequences!” Kosem added in a strong voice, shaking her finger at him.
“Enough!” Kalid said, rising. “Go to bed.”
Kosem didn’t move.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Kalid said softly.
The old lady gathered herself up with great dignity and stalked from the room, her head held high.
Kalid smiled to himself at her theatrics, then his smile faded as he considered what she had said.
She was right about one thing.
He didn’t want any woman in his kingdom, and he was beginning to wonder if he ever would.
“Bah! I cannot say it!” Roxalena threw the book on the floor.
“It’s a soft g, Roxalena, it’s pronounced like a j,” Sarah said patiently, retrieving the book from the carpet and opening it again to the page they had been reading.
“Then why not use the j?” Roxalena demanded. “Hard g and soft g, hard c which is really a k, and soft c, which is really an s-this is all so confusing!”
“I don’t know why there are two pronunciations for the same letter, I didn’t invent the language. English evolved over a long period of time and borrowed from many other languages in the process...” Sarah stopped when she saw that Roxalena was staring at her.
“Never mind,” Sarah said, closing the book. “I think you have had enough for today.” Both women looked toward the door as a eunuch entered the room and bowed low before Roxalena.
“Your clothes are here!” Roxalena said delightedly, taking the package from the servant and waving him away. She ripped open the package and held up a gauzy blouse of sapphire blue with a matching wisp of a silken veil.
“What do you think?” she asked eagerly.
“I am supposed to wear that for Kalid Shah’s visit tonight?” Sarah asked incredulously.
“Certainly.”
“It’s transparent!”
“It’s just the right color, I chose it especially to flatter your eyes. And with it,” she held up a pair of linen trousers, embroidered with silver thread. “And these shoes.” She held out a pair of kid slippers with upturned toes, also decorated with silver.
“Where did you get these things?” Sarah asked, watching her.
“I ordered them from my tirewoman. And you will wear my sapphire and pearl earrings, with my diamond necklace and the girdle of opals and pearls.”
“Roxalena, I couldn’t possibly...” Sarah began.
Roxalena held up her hand. “You would embarrass me in front of my father’s pasha?” she inquired archly.
“Of course not, but all of this is unnecessary.”
“You must be suitably dressed or Kalid Shah will think the house of Sultan Hammid has fallen on hard times and he might perhaps be inspired to rebel.”
“I see,” Sarah said, smiling. “I could cause a revolution if I don’t wear those clothes.”
“Who knows?” Roxalena replied, grinning impishly. Her smile vanished abruptly as she placed the shoes at her side on the divan and a folded piece of paper fell out of one of them. She snatched it up and held it to her bosom protectively.
“What’s that?” Sarah asked.
“It’s for me,” Roxalena said hastily, looking out into the hall to make sure she was not observed.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“It’s best you know nothing of this,” Roxalena said soberly. “Such information could be dangerous.”
“It’s from Osman Bey, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, and the expression on Roxalena’s face told her she was right.
“How could you know?” Roxalena whispered, growing pale.
“I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Sarah replied. “You’re meeting him in secret, aren’t you?”
Roxalena hesitated, then nodded.
“I thought he seemed particularly attentive to you at the bathing outing the other day. But why conceal your relationship? He’s the captain of your father’s halberdiers, that’s an important position. Aren’t you allowed to talk to him?”
“He’s a commoner,” Roxalena said sadly. “I must marry one of the nobility, a liaison with such a one as Osman is forbidden. If it were discovered Osman would be put to death.”
“And he’s willing to take such a risk?” Sarah gasped.
“We both are,” Roxalena replied, meeting her gaze. “You must say nothing of this to anyone.”
“I won’t, but...”
Roxalena motioned for silence as they heard running footsteps coming c
loser and the women calling to one another excitedly.
“What is it?” asked Sarah, who could not understand their garbled cries.
“Kalid Shah is arriving. His caravan is on the road leading up to the main gate. We can see it from over there.”
They both hurried to the window she indicated and knelt on the silk cushioned seat before it. The view from the second story harem quarters looked out over the red tiled roofs of the other wings. In the distance, raising a cloud a dust, they could see a procession of horses and wagons making stately progress toward the palace.
“Which one is he?” Sarah asked, craning her neck.
“Kalid?”
“Yes.”
Roxalena peered over her shoulder. “At the head of the column, on the white horse draped with gold hangings. The two men riding just behind him are supposed to be his guards.”
“Supposed to be?”
“He won’t let them do their job, he thinks he can take care of himself. He only consents to have them with him to humor the valide pashana, his grandmother. The old lady is superstitious and since she’s the only family he has left...” Roxalena shrugged.
“He’s arrogant, then.”
Roxalena snorted.
Sarah chuckled.
“Why do you laugh?”
“Arrogance is a trait that seems in abundant supply around here,” Sarah commented.
Roxalena took a second to register what had been said, then grinned delightedly.
“I suppose you have no arrogant men in the U.S. of America?” she teased.
“Quite a few,” Sarah admitted. She stared down at the robed figure riding at the head of the moving column.
“He seems taller than everybody else,” she said thoughtfully.
“He is. When he visits my father the Sultan always invites Kalid to sit very quickly so that Kalid does not tower over him.” Roxalena covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.
Shirza, Roxalena’s personal servant and hairdresser, appeared in the doorway and bowed gracefully.
“Will your Majesty be requiring my services soon?” she asked.
“Yes, yes. It is time for us to dress, my father will ask the women to attend upon him after he has dined and conversed with Kalid in private. Go and fetch what you need, and send Alev for my jewel box.”
The Panther and The Pearl Page 3
