Lost Love Found (47 page)

“I wed late, and my husband was killed in an accident less than a month after our marriage,” Valentina explained. “There was no time for children.”

“You have not married again?” Shohannah questioned.

“I am bethrothed to my cousin, Lord Burke, who travels with me, and we will be wed when we return to England,” Valentina replied.

“Ah! Then there will be children, for they are God’s blessing upon a man and a woman. The Bible says so,” Shohannah replied. “I am with child once more, as is Sarai and also Haghar.”

“And maybe me, too!” the fourteen-year-old Sabra said excitedly. “My link with the moon is now five weeks broken. My Lev is a splendid lover.”

“Your Lev is a noisy lover!” teased Shohannah. “We can usually hear him all over the house when he mounts you.”

The other women giggled. Sabra spoke up spiritedly, “It is to be hoped then that he encourages his brothers by his own good example,” she said.

“All but Asher, who is too busy in his countinghouse.” Haghar laughed.

“Asher has done well by me.” Ruth chuckled. “I have no complaints. But, of course, another baby would please me.”

“I did not know that you were expecting a child,” Valentina said shyly to Sarai.

“I carry low”—the young woman smiled—“and then, too, the voluminous clothes we wear disguises the condition well. My child is due toward the end of June.”

“Is it another son or a daughter you desire?”

“A healthy child, may it be Yahweh’s will,” came the reply. “A man can never have too many sons, yet another daughter would be nice. Dov and Aaron have each other despite the three years between them, but my Tamar has no one.”

“What will you call your child?” Valentina was genuinely interested.

“If Yahweh honors us with another son, he will be called Ruben. If it is a daughter, then she will be named Raphaela. I would name my child in honor of Simon’s aunt Rachael. She never married, but stayed home and looked after Esther. She died two years ago, trying to save Simon’s mother from some mysterious illness that she then caught and perished from herself.

“Simon’s mother, Maryam, was never strong. She gave her husband five sons and three daughters, but she was always considered delicate. Several years ago, the vizier, Cicalazade Pasha, took a second wife, with the permission of his first wife, the princess Lateefa. The woman disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and the vizier’s head eunuch, a bestial slug of a creature, ran whining to his best friend, the sultan’s Aga Kisler, in an attempt to absolve himself of his own negligence. He took it into his head that the woman had escaped and that Esther was involved. It was quite terrifying to have our peaceful home suddenly invaded by the sultan’s janissaries.

“They herded the family into a room, then they began to threaten us. Esther, of course, stood firm, for she was innocent of any wrongdoing and she would not be bullied. But Maryam was frightened beyond all reason and began babbling that Simon’s father, Eli, should confess and tell all. There was, of course, nothing to tell, but those two powerful eunuchs pounced on poor Maryam like ducks on a hapless waterbug. First they pretended to be taking David and Lev away for service in the corps of janissaries, despite the fact that Father Eli had paid the head tax exempting them. Then they threatened in the most explicit of terms to take our husbands’ eldest sister, Debra, who was on the eve of her wedding to Mortecai ben Levi, our cousin, and present Debra to the sultan for his harem. Maryam was almost prostrate at this point, and even Father Eli had begun to shout.

“Then suddenly, Esther demanded that the room be cleared but for the aga and the vizier’s head eunuch. That strange trio remained together for almost an hour, then the aga and the head eunuch and the janissaries left our house, never to return. What happened during that hour, Esther would never say. All she would tell us was that the matter had been taken care of to the satisfaction of the aga, Ali Ziya, and Hammid, the vizier’s eunuch. We suspect she paid a huge bribe to those two manless men. After that, however, Maryam was never the same. She died a year later, taking poor Rachael with her.”

Valentina was fascinated by the story. “It is like a legend or a myth,” she said, “and Esther Kira is the heroine.”

Her companions laughed at the thought of their elderly matriarch being a heroine, and all of the women departed from the baths in good humor.

“You will dine with us, of course,” said Sarai as she left Valentina in her apartment. “Leah, my servant, will come for you.”

The children dined by themselves, as did the men. The women of the household and their favored servants ate together in their own dining room in the women’s quarters. The meal was simple but tasty, and there was a generous amount of food. There was a lamb that had been roasted with small green onions; a whole red-eyed mullet poached in white wine; small game birds stuffed with fruit and roasted golden; a large bowl of saffron rice; and flat, unleavened bread. There were olives in brine, tiny pickled onions and cucumbers, spicy hot radishes. A rich, heavy, sweet wine was served with the meal.

The dishes were cleared away, the main course having been almost entirely consumed, and a second course was served. This consisted of plates of delicate gazelle horns: tiny, hollow curved pastries stuffed with a mixture of chopped almonds and dates and soaked in honey. There were flaky pastries filled with peaches and apricots that had been glazed with egg and honey. There were green figs that had been stewed in a mixture of honey and white wine. There were sugared almonds and dates, and a large bowl of apricots, cherries, oranges, and peaches. Turkish coffee was served, the elderly female coffee maker grinding beans for each cup individually. Valentina had never tasted coffee, and she wrinkled her nose at her first taste of the boiling-hot, bitter brew.

The easy chatter that had filled the baths now filled the dining room. Old Esther presided pridefully over her brood of women, her great- and great-great-grandchildren. Looking about the room, Valentina was very much reminded of her own family, so far away.

“Valentina is to see the valide in three days’ time,” Esther announced suddenly, smiling at her guest’s look of surprise.

“Your messenger has returned?”

“Yes, Valentina, he returned from the Yeni Serai only just before the evening meal. Safiye is pleased to receive you.” Esther clapped her hands and told the attending servant, “Go to my quarters and request of Yakob the gift the Valide has sent to our guest.”

“The valide has sent me a gift?” Valentina was astonished.

Esther Kira smiled knowingly. “Safiye has exquisite manners, my child. You are the daughter of her old friend. She desires to be remembered kindly by both you and your mother. Then, too, your family’s trading company, though small, is wealthy and has a certain amount of power, which Safiye admires. Remember, I did tell you that Safiye loves both gold and power.”

Valentina nodded slowly. “You also said she is wicked and venal, yet you remain her friend, Esther Kira. Why?”

The old woman smiled wisely. “Because I remember her when she was not that way and because she needs my friendship. My continuing friendship with the powerful women of the Ottoman family helps in the continuation of my own family’s good fortune. As long as Yahweh wills that I remain upon this earth, then I would be of value to my family. Soon, however, I think I will leave them. I have never known anyone who lived as long as I have lived.”

The women laughed softly at Esther’s remark, but Sarai said, “The Angel of Death has forgotten all about you, Esther, and when his anxious assistant brings it to his attention, the Angel of Death declares it is an error on his assistant’s part, that you could not possibly still remain on this earth. Until the angel is willing to admit his mistake, you will remain with us, Esther.”

“No, child, it is not so. The Angel of Death never forgets about anyone. My time is soon. I feel it in my bones.”

A chill settled on the room suddenly, and in an attempt to dispell it, Valentina said, “Tell me more about the Valide, Esther.”

“Safiye,” the old lady began. “Her name means purity. She is of the Baffo family of Venice. When she was but twelve, she was on her way from Venice to join her parents on the island of Corfu, where her father was governor. Her ship was captured by Turkish pirates, and Safiye was brought to Istanbul to be sold in the women’s slave market. The sultan’s Aga Kisler saw her there and purchased her for the harem. She was trained to catch the sultan’s eye. Indeed, when her time came, she did. Murad fell in love with her to the exclusion of all others, and she with him.

“She was an innocent then. Sweet and trusting and giving. She bore Sultan Murad his first son, Mehmed, who is the current sultan. She had no other sons after that, yet Murad continued to adore her, much to his mother, Nur-U-Banu’s annoyance. The Valide Nur-U-Banu feared that Safiye’s influence would outstrip hers, which she would not tolerate. In those days, Safiye looked on Nur-U-Banu as a mother and relied on her to protect her relationship with Murad. She soon learned that, in the harem, to place one’s faith in another woman is to invite disaster.

“Nur-U-Banu worried, rightly, that the succession was endangered by Murad’s having only one male heir. She plotted with the Aga Kisler, and together the two of them combed the slave markets of Istanbul seeking the most perfect, the most exquisite virgins that they might present to Murad in order to tempt him away from Safiye’s bed. They subtly placed within his mind the idea that one son was simply not enough, that Safiye was being selfish in attempting to hold Murad’s entire love when, after twelve years, she had given him but one male heir.

“Their clever ploys worked, for, by that time, Murad’s full Ottoman nature was beginning to assert itself. He found it impossible to resist the bevy of beauties being dangled before him. Safiye was no longer a fresh, young girl of thirteen. She was a woman in her late twenties and the lure of nubile, perfumed flesh proved too hard for Murad to resist. He succumbed with vigor and open delight to the variety of pleasures being paraded before him, and the more he tasted of this variety, the more he craved. He was a most sensual man. Perhaps overly so. At first, Safiye was heartbroken. Then, upon learning the extent of Nur-U-Banu’s involvement in this plot to remove Murad from her bed, she became enraged.

“There was nothing poor Safiye could really do to avenge herself on Murad’s mother. Nur-U-Banu had the power, and in order to retain her position as Murad’s absolute favorite, Safiye was forced to swallow her pride and accept her lord’s other women. Though she rarely allowed Murad to see that side of her nature, Safiye became an embittered woman. She is not a stupid woman, and she very quickly realized that if she lost Murad’s favor, her son might lose his father’s favor as well. For Mehmed’s sake, she accepted what she had to, knowing that one day when her son became the sultan, it would be Safiye who would be the Valide, the most powerful woman in the empire.

“If Safiye has any regrets, I think it is that Nur-U-Banu did not live to have her position usurped. Safiye has often said she would have enjoyed sending Murad’s mother to the Eski Serai to live out a lonely, powerless old age.

“Nur-U-Banu died four years after your mother escaped drowning. It was sudden and quite unexpected, for she had not been ill. There were rumors of poison, but Murad did not believe them, and neither did I. There was no truth to the rumors. Though Safiye fought with Nur-U-Banu continually, with occasional truces, they both quite frankly enjoyed the rivalry between them. It was exciting. It gave them something to live for, which is important for women in a harem, without men.

“With Nur-U-Banu gone, Safiye, as Bas Kadin, the mother of the heir, became the most important and powerful woman in the empire. There were other sons born to Murad, but Mehmed was almost a man at that point and only his death could prevent Safiye from reaching her goal. She became ruthless in her desire to see her son the sultan. The boy’s violent temper had gotten him into many difficulties and only his position as heir had absolved him. Murad, in an attempt to cure his son of that temper, sent him to govern a distant province in the hope that the rigors of running a government would give the boy a better outlet for his energies and a focus for his intellect. Safiye, of course, objected, fearing that, away from her influence, the boy would become independent. She also feared that he might be assassinated. She sent along an army of food-tasters and bodyguards to protect Mehmed.

“Mehmed, for all his strangeness, loves his mother deeply. Safiye wrote to him regularly, keeping him abreast of all the gossip and passing on to him advice and information. He answered every one of his mother’s letters with news of his own life. He asked her questions and solicited her opinions on everything. The bond forged between them was not broken by their separation, and Safiye began to look forward to Murad’s death, that her son might rule.

“The younger women of the harem were becoming bolder in their defiance of Safiye. They believed that, having the sultan’s favor and his children was enough to allow serious consideration of their sons ruling instead of Mehmed. Safiye, who, in younger days, might have become publicly enraged by this, remained as silent as a cat waiting to pounce and bided her time patiently. Murad was still her best friend. He valued and respected her publicly and privately. She knew that Murad was not well. Though few had seen it, the sultan was subject to fainting fits during the last two years of his life. He was also finding it increasingly difficult to pass his water. He died in January of 1595, seven and a half years ago.”

Here, Esther Kira paused for a few moments and sipped at her wine thirstily. Her audience was spellbound, even the members of the household for whom the story was an old, familiar one. The matriarch knew how to weave a tale.

“Murad’s death was kept secret for seven days,” she began again, “while Safiye’s messengers hurried to fetch Mehmed back to Istanbul. All of Murad’s servants who had been with him when he died were quietly and quickly strangled. The other servants were sent secretly to the Eski Serai without explanation. If they knew why they were leaving, they were wise enough to remain silent in order to preserve their lives. Safiye, with a steath I would not have believed possible, waited patiently, behaving as if nothing unusual had happened, as if it were just a normal week. The business of the empire was temporarily suspended while Sultan Murad ‘recovered’ from a bad winter’s cold. No one suspected that Murad was dead, not even the unfortunate mothers of his other sons.