Lost Love Found (64 page)

“You will not really be safe until you have left Istanbul, my lady,” Sabra said wisely. “The vizier is a bold man.”

“Has my departure been arranged, Sabra?” Valentina asked, while wondering,
Will Padraic be there waiting for me?

“Tonight, my lady. It was considered too dangerous to take you to the ship in daylight. Two women, even garbed anonymously as we are, would attract attention mounting the gangway of a foreign vessel. You will be transported under cover of darkness to your ship. The gentlemen of your party are there now, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Old Esther did not think it wise for them to come to the house or to be seen escorting a litter to the waterfront, even at night.”

“Surely I will be missed before nightfall, Sabra. I cannot go back! I
will not
go back!” Valentina declared passionately, a note of hysteria in her voice.

“It is almost sunset now. Remember, it is mid-autumn. Your foolish Shakir is far too involved at the moment to think clearly. The women of the harem will not concern themselves with your whereabouts. They will assume you are somewhere they are not. Grand Eunuch Hammid, having spent a stimulating afternoon battling his good friend and rival, Ali Ziya, for the pick of the especially beautiful slave girls sold today at Kara Ali’s slave market, will accept the invitation of the slave merchant to take supper with him. Like the vizier, who is now at the Yeni Serai, Hammid will not return to the vizier’s palace until late. By then it will be long past dark and you will be safely at sea. Your ship is prepared to sail the moment you arrive.

“The vizier,” Sabra reminded Valentina, “cannot make a public outcry about your disappearance, or he will be punished for kidnapping you in the first place—
and
for lying to the sultan about it. When Cicalazade Pasha does finally learn that the English ships have sailed, he will know for certain that you are gone. He will be forced to accept the situation.”

“I worry that I have placed your family in jeopardy, Sabra,” Valentina said feelingly. “The vizier is no fool. He will realize that I have been aided by someone here in Istanbul. The suspicion will fall on the Kiras, particularly in light of the fact that the peddler women who came to the harem were Jews.”

“The vizier will not dare complain to anyone, not with his own crimes in mind,” Sabra said. “Besides, the Kiras have been in favor with the Ottoman sultans too long to lose it now, particularly over such a matter as this. Indeed, your kidnapping might have caused trouble between our ruler and your queen.”

Sabra, the wife of Lev Kira, spoke with the assurance of youth. Life had not taught Sabra that what is today, may not necessarily be tomorrow.

Even as Sabra was speaking, decisions were being made in the council chamber of the sultan that would change the smooth course of her young life forever.

“Then it is agreed,” Sultan Mehmed said to his council. “The Jews are to be our scapegoats. But will the people believe it? Will it make them cease rioting?”

“If I may speak, my lord sultan.” An elderly mullah who had been on the council in the sultan’s father’s time rose to his feet.

“Speak!” the sultan said.

“The people will believe the Jews are to blame for the debasement of the coinage because it is just the sort of thing that one might expect from Jews. They are a greedy, venal, and avaricious people, as their history has shown. Even the Christian West, with its teachings by the prophet Jesus that advises man to turn the other cheek and to love his neighbors, has not made its people love the Jews any more than we love the Jews.”

“Nonetheless,” a third vizier spoke up hastily, forgetting to obtain permission, “the Jews are very good citizens. They pay their taxes without question and contribute much of value to the economy of the empire. If this action you contemplate, my lord sultan, should spread to our other cities, there would be more harm done us than good.”

“We must have
someone
to blame for clipping the coinage,” the sultan insisted. “They say that my mother and I are responsible for it, and I will not have such rumors spread!”

“Blame only the Jews of Istanbul for the crime, my lord,” suggested the elderly mullah.

“The Jews of Istanbul, led in their perfidy by the Kiras!” the second vizier suggested excitedly. “The Kiras, with all their power and wealth, are greatly envied by other Jews. If we claim that the Kiras are responsible for the debasement of the coinage, the people will seek to bring them to justice. They will not blame all the Jews, only the Kira family. It will take their minds off their own problems and they will cease blaming you and our gracious valide for the currency problem. It will also allow you to confiscate the Kiras’ wealth for yourself, my lord! And their wealth is legendary, as you know.”

The speaker knew that the great debt he owed the Kiras was not a matter of public knowledge. Of late they had begun to press him, his loan now being two years overdue. If the sultan accepted his suggestion, his own large debt need never be paid! The sultan might even reward him for his advice, so he would profit doubly by his suggestion.

“To blame the Jews as a whole is one thing,” the third vizier said, “but to single out the Kira family is not honorable, my lord sultan. For almost one hundred years they have loyally, and without reservation, served the Ottomans. They have always been this empire’s most loyal subjects.”

“They have served my family to their own profit,” Mehmed said irritably. He liked the second vizier’s suggestion very much, particularly the part about confiscating the Kiras’ wealth for himself. “They claim to be exempted from taxes for all eternity by virtue of some favor they did my great-great-grandmother, the Valide Cyra Hafise, of loving memory. Who, however, can verify such a claim? For years they have been cheating our coffers of legal taxes on this pretext.”

“Their claim is a valid one, my lord.” The Grand Vizier Cicalazade Pasha spoke up. “The great Valide Cyra Hafise saw that it was put into the official records of the time. I have seen it myself.”

“Perhaps,” the sultan said, “but I still believe the Kira family presumes too much on their connection with my family. And we must have a believable scapegoat to appease the populace.”

He turned to the second vizier. “See to it that the rumors are properly spread, Hassan Bey. Then, when the riots are well under way, probably by tonight, I shall send you, Cica, with several troops of my finest janissaries, to stop the carnage. In that way the riots against the Jews will not spread beyond Balata, the people will be sated of their bloodlust, and the Kira wealth will be mine—a public punishment for their crime. This will show the people that I am a fair ruler who metes out justice even to those in my special favor.

“The coinage will be called in and struck to its proper weight … and if the same number of coins are not released back into circulation as were taken out, who will know? The people, believing I have listened to their complaints, will be happy. Is that not the function of good government? To make the people think they are happy?” He chuckled richly, then said, “Leave me now, all but Grand Vizier Cicalazade Pasha.”

The sultan’s ministers and advisers filed slowly from the room arguing the merits of their master’s decision. The third vizier, his days obviously numbered, was silent.

A page hurried forward to fill the goblets of the sultan and Cicalazade Pasha, then withdrew.

For close to an hour the sultan spoke with Cicalazade Pasha regarding the destruction of the ghetto and the Kira family’s fate. The sultan drained his cup twice, the vizier filling it for him. The royal goblet was filled a third time.

Mehmed drank deeply, but the vizier had merely touched his lips with the strong wine. Slamming his cup upon a low table, the sultan asked, “You have had her?”

“A few days ago, after I realized that gentle persuasion was not the answer to gaining the pleasures of Naksh’s lovely body,” replied his friend.

“And was she worth all your trouble, Cica?” The sultan’s look was avid.

The vizier smiled slowly. “She was the ripest and sweetest melon, which I split slowly with my lance. She dripped with honey, my lord. Her cries were music, and my back is scored with her sharp claws.”

“Allah! If only she was not my sister! I should have taken her for myself then, Cica! I envy you this delightful conquest.”

“I have not conquered her, my lord,” Cicalazade Pasha said. “She has given me nothing I have not taken by force. There is no tenderness in her, only defiance. I find it more stimulating than anything I have ever encountered. One thing, however. I should like her to truly understand the power of life and death that I hold over her. Here, perhaps, my lord, I might beg your help.”

“I will help you in whatever way you desire, Cica. Are you not my best friend?”

“If you will remember, my lord, the day you gave me permission to take Naksh from her English companions, I promised you that you might view me schooling my slave.”

“Aye,” the sultan said softly, his eyes glittering. “I remember.”

“You denied yourself the pleasure of her body because she is your sister and you would not commit incest, my lord. Yet there is a way you may take your pleasure of her without actually committing incest. By sharing Naksh’s favors with you, my lord, I demonstrate to her the great and terrible power I hold over her.
My
will, not hers! She is intelligent and will quickly see that I may do whatever I choose to do with her—even share her with another man!

“Her second maidenhead is intact, my lord sultan. Hammid will shortly begin to prepare her to receive a manhood there. Would it not give you pleasure to take that second maidenhead of Naksh’s, my lord? Would you not enjoy delving into her dark channel, to be the very first man to do so? Would you not enjoy her cries of anguish as she is forced to submit to the pillaging of her bottom, even, my lord, as I fill her sheath with my burning shaft?” The vizier’s voice was satiny soft.

The sultan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and the vizier could see that he was having difficulty breathing. In a moment, however, the dark eyes focused on Cicalazade again and Mehmed said in a hopeful yet disbelieving voice, “You would give me your favorite’s second virginity, Cica? We would take her together?”

“Were it not for you, my lord sultan, I should not have her at all” was the smooth reply.

“Am I to understand that for a night you and I will share the woman’s favors?”

“As long as I do not drive you to incest, my lord,” the vizier answered smoothly. “For your deeper longings, I shall set aside virgins to amuse you that night.”

A grin of delight split Sultan Mehmed’s face. “Excellent! Excellent!” he approved. “Never has a man had a better friend than you, my dear Cica! I am delighted to see you back in your old form again. It is Naksh who has done this for you. I shall see that she is suitably rewarded—after I have tasted of her favors. Do you remember the time we had the contest to see who could deflower the most virgins in one day?”

The vizier nodded. “I remember that you won, my lord,” he said with a chuckle.

The sultan stood up. “Come. Have the evening meal with me while we reminisce. Tell me more of Naksh. Does she have beautiful breasts, Cica?”

“They are like perfect marble fruits, my lord, and sweeter than any I have had before, even my adored Incili’s. Her skin is so fair that the slightest touch marks her. I find it thrilling to see in my fingermarks the evidence of my possession of her body.”

“You will be eager for her by this night’s end, but first you must see to your duties, Cica,” the sultan said in a bantering tone.

“I always do my duty, my lord, in or out of your service” came the retort, and the sultan laughed.

They were passing through a garden that offered a view of the city and suddenly the sultan pointed. “Look, Cica! Is that a fire in the city?”

The vizier peered into the darkness and saw the reddish glow. “Hassan Bey has done his work quickly,” he said. “That fire is in Balata. Perhaps I should go now.”

“No,” the sultan said. “I will give orders that two troops of janissaries be ready to leave within the hour, but the fire in Balata is a small one. The riots have just begun, my friend. Let the ghetto show a bit more flame before you go. There is time for something light to eat, Cica.”

Mehmed smiled. “I shall be a far richer man by morning, and the Kiras poorer. Kill them all, Cica! I do not want them haunting my dreams as my brothers have haunted my dreams all these years. I can still see their trusting little faces, although the eldest, Mamud, looked at me with knowledgeable eyes.
He knew!
I still see those eyes in my dreams!
Kill them all! Destroy them!
”

“This is the end,” Esther Kira said. Even within her apartment the smell of smoke was strong. “Somehow, nonetheless, we must get Lady Barrows to the docks. We are honor-bound to do so.”

“Grandmother! There is no chance of getting Lady Barrows safely away,” Eli Kira said excitedly. “She will die here with the rest of us!”

“Why do you assume you must die?” Valentina demanded, made furious by their fatalistic attitude. “You are the Kira family, in great favor with the royal family. The mob will not dare attack
your
home!”

Esther Kira held up her hand for silence, and the room quieted. “Listen to me, my child,” the old woman said patiently. “For months, the sultan and his mother have had slaves locked in the treasury clipping bits of metal from every coin that passed through. This devalued the currency to such an extent that a poor man could no longer afford to buy a loaf of bread or a bowl of tripe for his family. Such a thing is unheard of in Istanbul. What is worse is that no one had the power to stop it. Now the people have revolted, so a sacrificial scapegoat must be offered to them. The sultan has obviously decided that the Jews are a good scapegoat.”

“But you are the sultan’s friends,” Valentina protested.

“Aye,” Ester Kira said dryly, “and we are also the richest Jews in Balata—as evidenced by our great house, perched a top Balata’s greatest height. We might have survived this, as we have survived other such incidents in our history, had we been more discreet. But nothing would do but that my son, Solomon build a house at the very pinnacle of this great hill. Our neighbors and friends below will have hidden their wealth, and perhaps even themselves, in their cellars to wait out the mobs. Perhaps some of them will escape this attack, for there are always some who do. To think I escaped Adrianople over a hundred years ago, to end like this!” She shook her head sadly. In a moment, she continued. “The mobs will seek the richest and the easiest pickings, and we are perched like a glittering crown upon a fool’s head! We cannot hide. They will tear this house apart stone by stone in search of our legendary wealth.” She laughed sharply. “All they will find, however, is what you see, for the bulk of our wealth is spread throughout various countries to the west in our many banking houses. We Jews have never been safe in any land, and we have learned through necessity to be clever with our wealth, spreading it about so that our enemies can never take everything or completely destroy us.”