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“I had thought we would be, and as long as my grandfather lived, I believe we were. The sultan’s heart is good towards me. He does not hold me responsible for my father’s misdeeds, but eventually his patience will be frayed. He has three
kadins
, and they are concerned with any who might threaten their own sons.”

“A
kadin
is the title given to the mother of the sultan’s sons. Is that correct?” Azura queried him. “Their position must give them a certain power.”

Amir nodded. “Yes, it does. Family is all-important to the Ottomans. All of their children are welcomed into this world, and cherished, but particularly sons. And when a sultan dies, his successor’s mother gains the stature of becoming Sultan Valideh. It is she who controls the harem along with the official known as the Agha Kislar,” he explained.

“How many
kadins
does your uncle have?” Azura asked.

“Three,” Amir told her, “and one of those three is a very dangerous woman. Her name is Besma. It is said that she engineered the death of my cousin Mustafa, who was my uncle’s eldest-born, the son of his
kadin
Kiusem. Nothing could be proved against Besma, however, and her son, Ahmed, my uncle’s second-born son, became the oldest. She is a very jealous woman, and too often my uncle gives in to her simply so she will cease her nagging. Fortunately his Agha Kislar, Hadji Bey, does not like
kadin
Besma. He favors the younger of Kiusem’s sons, Selim, and so his master’s difficult
kadin
is usually prevented these days from her mischief.”

“Yet she murdered a prince,” Azura noted.

“Never proved,” Amir reiterated. “When I learn who watches, we will know more,” he promised her.

But the watcher was clever. He obviously suspected he had been discovered.

Before Amir might ride out and surprise him, the watcher disappeared. Still curious, Amir considered going to Istanbul, but realized his appearance uninvited in the capital might offend his uncle. Instead he sent a message to the Agha Kislar with his own trusted Diya al Din. The head eunuch of the prince’s household had been trained with Hadji Bey.

Hadji Bey was surprised to see his old companion. It had been years since the two had met, for Diya al Din had served Prince Amir’s mother first. The prince’s eunuch waited for two days before the great Agha Kislar was able to see him, but Hadji Bey welcomed him warmly, expressing his regret that his old friend had been forced to wait.

Diya al Din waved the Agha Kislar’s concerns aside. “There is no emergency,” he said. “It was pleasant to wait, and be waited upon. I cannot recall the last time I was free of my duties as head eunuch of Prince Amir’s household.”

“Sit, sit,” the Agha invited.

Immediately slaves brought hot mint tea and small sweet pastries for the two men. For a brief time they sat together enjoying the refreshments.

“Now tell me why you have come,” Hadji Bey finally asked his guest. “You say it is no emergency, yet I suspect it may be important, else Prince Amir would not have sent you to me. How may I serve him?”

“Someone has been watching the Moonlight Serai,” Diya al Din said. “When my master sought to learn the identity of the watcher, he had fled. Do you know of this?”

“No,” the Agha Kislar said, “I do not, but
kadin
Besma has of late begun to lobby once again with the sultan over Prince Amir’s presence so close to Istanbul.” He clapped his hands together, and instantly a slave was by his side, leaning down to receive the Agha’s whispered instructions. The slave ran off, and Hadji Bey said, “We will shortly know if that troublesome woman is involved. I spend more of my time these days preventing her mischief than I should have to,” he grumbled. “If she is responsible for this, she has kept it secret, for I have several spies in her household and have heard nothing. Now, tell me of your prince’s child. Is it indeed a girl, or was that simply a ruse to keep the infant safe for the time being?”

“No, no!” Diya al Din exclaimed. “’Tis a little princess in truth. They have named her Atiya. She has dark hair like her parents, and fine bright blue eyes. Her mother is very beautiful, and the baby promises to be too.”

“She is doted upon?” Hadji Bey said with a smile.

Diya al Din chortled. “Oh yes!” he replied. “The prince’s first two wives are sterile, and you can imagine their delight over Princess Atiya. They have already made a true demanding little Ottoman of her. The lady Azura has scolded them about it, but then the baby will do something outrageous and they all laugh over her antics. As for my master, he is like all fathers of daughters. Besotted.”

The Agha Kislar listened, a smile upon his dark face, but he was gauging the truth of Diya al Din’s words. This eunuch was no less loyal to his own master than the Agha was to the sultan, but the more he listened, the more Hadji Bey was convinced that his guest spoke the truth. Prince Amir’s child was indeed a female. Not that he would not make absolutely certain eventually with his own spies. There would be time enough for that.

The Agha’s slave returned and murmured in his master’s ear before moving from the small comfortable chamber where the two eunuchs sat companionably.

“It is as I suspected,” Hadji Bey said, his tone edged with anger. “
Kadin
Besma spies upon Prince Amir’s household, though she could actually learn little if nothing from a distance. Is it possible there is a spy among your slaves? A new purchase, perhaps? Allah forgive me, but if there were a way of ridding my master of that damned woman, I would take it.”

“The household I manage is small,” Diya al Din said. “I have brought no new slaves into it for years. Still, I will investigate when I return and will report to you.”

“Then the stupid woman wastes her time,” the Agha Kislar said. “But why she would do so is of more concern to me. It will take some careful investigation on my part, and that will take time. Return to Prince Amir, and tell him what I have told you, Diya al Din. Your master has a friend in me. Should
kadin
Besma be plotting any mischief against him I will learn of it, and do my best to prevent it.”

“I am grateful for your friendship,” Diya al Din said, and he was. He left Istanbul and returned to the Moonlight Serai. He did not like harem politics. They were always dangerous. Praise Allah the women of his household were sensible females.

Chapter 18

T
he mother of Sultan Bayezit’s eldest living son, Ahmed, was a jealous woman. She had borne one son, and doted upon him to the exclusion of everything else. She was very beautiful, and she was fascinating. She had lover’s skills unlike any other of the sultan’s
kadins
. Bayezit was both repelled and fascinated by her, which was why she remained in his favor. He knew she was involved somehow in the death of his son Mustafa, but as no proof had been forthcoming he had no excuse to either accuse her or punish her, much to the sorrow of his other
kadins
, who must now fear for their sons.

The woman he loved best of his
kadins
, Mustafa’s mother, Kiusem, had been devastated by the loss of her child, but she had also given the sultan a second child, his youngest son, a boy named Selim. Besma was forever telling the sultan of Selim’s alleged faults and weaknesses while crying the accomplishments of her own offspring. Besma meant for Ahmed to follow his father on the throne. She planned to one day be Sultan Valideh, and rule through the son who ruled the empire. She would allow nothing to stand in her way, but for all her power she had made equally powerful enemies.

The return to Turkey of Prince Amir had not pleased her at all. Like Bayezit’s three surviving sons, this prince had a legitimate claim to the Ottoman throne, and he was a man. When she dared to question Bayezit about it after a particularly satisfying evening in his bed, he had told her that his nephew had been expelled from Florence.

“For what reason?” She pursued the matter intently. “What did he do that they would ask you to remove him? He cannot be very wise to have offended so greatly. He obviously grows more like his traitorous father every day. What a pity, for I know he was of great use to you there. But of course, like your brother, he thought only of himself, and not of his duty to his sultan,” Besma said. She would not allow another rival to threaten Ahmed.

“I believe it had to do with a lady,” the sultan had told her, beginning to be irritated by her shrill tone. “He became too involved with a woman from an important family, and they objected.”

“The Florentines are as debauched as Romans,” Besma responded, parroting what she had heard from harem gossip. “I do not believe your nephew was banished for his involvement with a woman. I think he is in league with the di Medici family, and means to have your throne with their aid. If not now, one day in the future. He plans to supplant your sons, my lord. We are all in danger from this prince. He is worse than his father, for he pretends loyalty and friendship. At least Prince Jem is honest in his desire to be sultan,” the
kadin
Besma said.

Her words disturbed Bayezit, but try as he might he could find no fault with his nephew. The sultan had given Amir the opportunity to throw in with his father by sending him to Rhodes, but Amir had shown not the slightest disloyalty. Captain Mahmud had reported his nephew’s every move. The sultan even had several spies in his brother’s house, thanks to his Agha Kislar. They had confirmed Amir’s strict allegiance to the sultan alone and his anger that his father could not be made to see reason. Bayezit was absolutely convinced that his nephew was faithful.

“Amir has no desire to rule,” he told his
kadin
. “Of that I am certain.”

“How certain will you be when he slays your sons, my lord? You must act now to prevent such a tragedy, such a miscarriage of justice,” the
kadin
Besma insisted.

“Woman! You are a viper at my breast,” the sultan accused her. “I will hear no more of this foolishness you prattle. The day is coming when I will have you sewn into a silk bag weighed down with stones, and order it sent to the bottom of the sea!” And he sent her from his bed. Her amorous skills were not worth listening to the constant stream of vitriol that poured forth from her mouth. He was no fool, and understood that her interest in Amir was not for him. It was for her son, Ahmed, whom she hoped would succeed him. She would do whatever she had to do to keep the path to his throne clear for her child.

After his eldest son’s untimely death, he thought Ahmed might one day be worthy, but Besma had spoiled his second son for such responsibility by indulging him in numerous vices that left him self-indulgent and lacking in self-discipline. His third son, Korkut, offspring of
kadin
Safiye, was a serious scholar and not the least bit interested in ruling. He was a young man who was monastic in all things, living simply and always surrounded by books. It was Bayezit’s youngest son, Selim, for whom the sultan had high hopes. Even now the boy governed the province delegated to him with a sure hand, and scrupulous attention to the law, which pleased Bayezit most of all.

He knew that eventually Besma would seek to remove Selim, as she was rumored to have removed his brother. For now, however, she had fixated all her attention upon his brother Jem’s son. He was sultan, and yet he was helpless to curtail her ambition. Short of having her strangled and sewn into a silk sack to be dropped into the Bosphorus, as he had previously threatened her, he must rely upon his Agha Kislar to keep Besma in check and Prince Amir safe. A snort of laughter escaped him. The world believed him to be all-powerful, invincible. Any man who truly believed he was such was a fool, and deserved whatever he got from life, Bayezit thought wryly.

The visit paid to Hadji Bey by Diya al Din, and the subsequent information he had received from the spies he had in
kadin
Besma’s household, had alerted the Agha Kislar to the need to protect Prince Amir and his household. It would not be easy, for women like Besma, who believed they were protecting their children, were like wild beasts. The Agha knew what needed to be done. First, however, he must convince the sultan that it was the best course to take. Prince Amir must leave Turkey again, and this time he could not return. His exile must be permanent. But where was he to go? That would be the largest problem they had to face. Could he remain within the sultan’s purview? Or would he have to return to Western Europe?

I must investigate further and think on it,
the Agha said to himself. The problem with Western Europe was that Amir could not take all three of his wives with him. And if he went alone, or took the wife of his heart that Diya al Din had spoken of, what would happen to the other two? Their families would eventually learn of it, and be insulted. They might join forces with the sultan’s enemies. And while not in love with his first and second wives, Prince Amir was fond of them. An equitable man, he would not cast them off or leave them again.

Florence, Rome, and Venice were all out of the question. France was no better. And beyond France? England. But the English were engaged in a civil war among their kings right now. It was hardly a safe place for an Ottoman prince with three wives. It was also unlikely that the English would allow such a guest to take up permanent residence in their realm, even if the sultan paid for his nephew’s refuge and peace.

Was there a place within his master’s realm for an Ottoman prince with a direct and strong claim to the throne? Some unimportant and distant location where they might secrete and settle Prince Amir and his family in safety? Some area that would not draw
kadin
Besma’s notice? What nameless and obscure locale was available to them for a man who had no desire to rule but simply wished to live quietly with his wives and child? And then it came to him.

El Dinut!
A small fiefdom on the North African coast whose current ruler, the dey, had actually been a friend and companion of the Conqueror himself. Loyal to Bayezit, he would, if asked by the sultan, give discreet sanctuary to Prince Amir and his family. It was unlikely that
kadin
Besma would ever know what had happened to the prince once he was gone, and they would see that something else took her attention, thus diverting her from further mischief.

Yes! El Dinut was certainly the answer to their problems. Its climate was agreeable and Prince Amir would be able to conduct his small trading venture from one of its easily accessible harbors. There would, of course, have to be a slight change in Prince Amir’s identity for extra security. His title would no longer be used. He would become simply Amir ibn Mehmet, a well-to-do merchant.

Hadji Bey spoke with the sultan, outlining his plan. The sultan approved, and gave his Agha Kislar permission to write to the dey of El Dinut in the sultan’s name. The letter was sent by a single messenger who traveled quickly, returning two months later with the dey’s answer. Haroun al Hakim, dey of El Dinut, would welcome Prince Amir gladly, he wrote. He remembered his old friend Sultan Mehmet speaking fondly of this particular grandson. And he would see that the presence of Prince Amir and his family was kept discreet. Hadji Bey shared this news with the sultan, who now reluctantly agreed it was time for his nephew to go.

Kadin
Besma had continued to lobby her lord about his nephew despite his refusal to pay attention to her concerns. She had even involved the other
kadins
, who might dislike her (and they did) but also considered another male heir one too many. While the other
kadins
did not really believe that Amir constituted a threat, there was always his father, Prince Jem, hovering like a bad smell in the background. An undercurrent of turmoil ran through the sultan’s harem, and Bayezit did not like it. If removing his nephew was what it would take to bring peace and order back to his household, he would do it.

Besma, however, had her own plans. It never occurred to her that there might be a way of removing Prince Amir other than violence. As one of the sultan’s favorites, she had amassed a great deal of her own wealth over the years. Now she planned to use some of that gold to solve the problem of Amir. The eunuch who served her personally, Taweel, was utterly devoted to her. Unusually tall, thin, and black as night in color, Taweel was Besma’s link to the world outside of the harem. He could come and go without question and with impunity, even if she could not. He was her eyes and ears.

Now, upon her order, he set out into the city to seek a man who was known by only the single name Sami. The name meant “all knowing.” It was said of Sami that whatever you wanted, desired, or needed, he knew where to find it, and for a price would obtain it for you. Besma wanted a troop of ruthless and murderous Tartars who would sweep down upon the Moonlight Serai, murdering its inhabitants and destroying the little palace. They would be well paid, half in advance, half upon the satisfactory completion of their task. They were free to carry off the women in the Moonlight Serai and take slaves, but the lord of the palace was to be slain without mercy.

“For proof of his death my mistress would have the gold signet ring he always wears on his right hand,” Taweel told Sami. “And the finger upon which he wears it as well. The ring could be stolen, but the finger will be the actual evidence that the task has been completed to my mistress’s satisfaction.”

The broker of all things possible considered the tall eunuch’s request, and then he said, “And am I apt to face a troop of Janissaries come to peel the skin from my bones if I find what it is you seek?” Sami demanded. “I know from whom you come, Taweel, and whom you serve. This is a dangerous business you propose.”

“But you will do it,” Taweel said, smiling, and his large white teeth were fearsome in his black face. “The commission you collect will be a fat one, my greedy friend.”

“It will be very costly,” Sami replied.
“Very, very costly.”

“She will pay,” Taweel responded. “Now find her the Tartars she wants, and send to me when you have them so I may personally come to give them their instructions.” The eunuch handed Sami a small bag of gold coins, which the purveyor of all things mentally weighed in his palm. “A small retainer for your services,” Taweel said, and then returned to the palace to report to his mistress the success of his mission.

“He will be discreet?” Besma asked her servant.

“His life and his livelihood both depend upon his discretion,” Taweel assured her. “But if you so desire, I can slit his throat once the mission had been accomplished, lady.”

“It is to be considered,” Besma responded. “And we might recoup some of my gold too. But then I might need him again one day, so perhaps I will let him live.”

Hadji Bey did not yet know of Besma’s intentions towards Prince Amir, for she had shared her thoughts only with her minion. The Agha had taken it upon himself to make a rare and secret visit outside of the palace, leaving quietly in the dark of night when even the most curious eyes and ears slept. He traveled in the company of only one man, Captain Mahmud, whom he knew the prince had come to trust. They traveled quickly.

Their arrival at the Moonlight Serai was greeted with great surprise by Diya al Din, who practically fell over his own silk slippers when a slave came to tell him of the Agha Kislar’s presence in the house. “My lord Agha!” he greeted his guest, and he bowed respectfully to the great man.

“I have come to speak privily with your master,” Hadji Bey said.

Diya al Din hesitated a moment. He didn’t know whether he should run and fetch the prince immediately or settle his two guests in the salon first. Finally he decided on the latter. “Come,” he told them, leading them into the charming light-filled chamber with its view of the gardens beyond the windows. “Let me make you comfortable before I go to fetch my lord Amir.” He signaled slaves to come with fruit sherbets and sweet cakes and a bowl of pistachio nuts even as he settled them. The Agha Kislar looked weary to Diya al Din’s sharp eye. How quickly had they traveled?

Satisfied that the guests were comfortable, Diya al Din ran for his master. He found him in his own small privy chamber planning the next year’s voyages of his three ships.

“My lord, my lord! The sultan’s great Agha Kislar has just arrived to speak with you!” the eunuch burst out, unable to keep the excitement from his own voice.

Amir jumped up. “Hadji Bey himself? Allah! What has happened? Where have you put him? Quickly! Quickly! Take me to him!” He swiftly followed Diya al Din to the salon where his guests waited. Seeing Captain Mahmud with the Agha, the prince’s eyes grew wary. “What has happened?” he asked them. “No, my lord Agha, do not get up. Stay seated and be comfortable.” He joined them. “Tell me my uncle is well.”