The Harem Midwife (21 page)

Cesca picked up the drawing. Hand over the blanket before they had come to an agreement? Did he take her for an im be cile? “The boy is deeply attached to it. To deprive him of it would cause his screams to be heard all the way to Büyükada.”

Foscari studied the brandy in his glass, then took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth, swirling and swilling and swallowing.

Cesca said, “I have given you what you wanted—proof that Matteo is the di Padovani heir. I want your word, Foscari, that if our scheme succeeds, I shall be rewarded. I want the di Padovani villa in Maser.”

Foscari choked. He rose and made a great performance of bending double and coughing. “You are mad!” he managed, before sitting back down in his chair. “Living with Israelites has not only made you greedy, it has given you thoughts above your station.”

This constant jibing of Jews. Cesca had never taken the slightest notice until she began to pass herself off as one. From the
lokum
sellers in the bazaar to the
simit
vendors, everyone had some insult to offer. “When it comes to money, Foscari, all of us—Jews or Christians—are of the same religion,” she said.

Foscari took another sip of brandy.

“You may be a marquis but you bargain as fiercely as a ten-s
cudi
whore. It is dealing with you that has forced me to be cunning,” said Cesca.

Foscari leaned forward, his silver nose riding up ever so slightly. “Tell me your plan for handing the boy over to me.”

Of course Cesca had thought it through and was prepared for this question. “I shall do it during the Circumcision Parade. The Sultan, as you know, has ordered a wonderful celebration. His only son, Mehmet, has recovered from
fever, so the event will take place soon. For fifty-three days, the entire city will pay him honour. Every guild will have a float, every soldier will be on the streets in full regalia. Confusion and chaos will reign. Thousands of people will travel from as far away as Edirne and Amasia to behold the splendour. It will be easy for me and the boy to get lost in the crowds. Before Hannah realizes the child is gone, he shall be on board the ship bound for Venice.”

“Brilliant. Of course, you will bring me the blanket and then sail with me and the boy. I cannot be expected to tend to a young child, and I can’t think of a more suitable role for you.”

Foscari thought her innocent as a cabbage. “Of course I will join you—eventually.” She remained silent for a long time. “And the estate?”

Foscari began tossing crumbs to the swans. Cesca rose to her feet, as if she were about to leave. Finally, Foscari surrendered.

“Fine, we have a deal, but under one condition: that you not complain to me when your grapes in the Maser estate rot on the vine and your newborn calves die from the scours. Your talents, my dear, are in the bedchamber, not in the fields. Let us finish our brandy and go into the house, where you can prove your talents to me once again.”

Cesca had not counted on his quick capitulation on the matter of the estate. Yes, she would hand over the boy to Foscari, but she would keep the blanket. Without this well-worn scrap of wool, Foscari had no evidence, just an adorable little red-haired trot who could be
anybody’s child. She would deal with Isaac and his estate. When that was sorted out, she would follow Foscari on the next ship to Venice, the blanket and her future snug in her valise.

MUCH HAD HAPPENED
since that night over a month ago in the Hall of the Sultan’s Divan—none of it good.

Isaac had not been able to borrow the money to pay Grazia. The price of silk continued to fall. Everyone and his dog had bolts for sale. Even the finest material went for half of what it had sold for last year. Hannah could have wept. Grazia had agreed to give them a little more time to come up with her ducats—until the Circumcision Parade for Mehmet, the Sultan’s son, which was only a few weeks away.

A fortnight ago, as Hannah was drinking her evening tea under the wisteria arbour, Ezster had knocked on the
back door. She would not come in but said that Leah needed to see Hannah as soon as possible.

“I should not be passing messages like this,” said Ezster. “The Valide would not like it. But, Hannah, Leah looked so worried. I pitied her. You must go to her.” Ezster held out a folded piece of paper. “She asked me to give you this.”

Hannah’s first thought was that she was astonished Leah, a simple peasant girl, could write. Hannah walked over to a candle and by twisting the parchment to and fro, managed to make out the few shakily written words, in Hebrew, the gist of which was that their ruse had succeeded and Leah was now “a girl in the eye of the Sultan.” But the message went on to say that Leah must get out of the palace before it was too late.

Too late for what? Was she worried she’d be called to the divan again?

Hannah tossed the note into the fire so that neither Isaac nor Grazia would find it. Leah did not understand that Hannah could not come and go from the Imperial Harem whenever she liked as Ezster did. Hannah had to wait to be sent for.

Tonight, at last, her patience was rewarded. Without warning, Suat and his royal carriage appeared in front of her house. She was being summoned by the Valide, who wished an immediate audience with Hannah. For what purpose? Suat grumbled that the Valide did not deign to give reasons. Was it too much for Hannah to hope that she might be rewarded for her help with the couching?

Imperial Palace

Constantinople

After the long carriage ride, Hannah found herself once more walking past the tall Janissaries guarding the Gate of Felicity. She entered the harem where Mustafa, gold quill in his black turban, was waiting. He smiled and gave her a hug, as was his custom.

“May I have a word with Leah before I see the Valide?”

“I will navigate the way to Leah’s splendid new apartments. No more humble dormitory for her.”

Hannah followed Mustafa’s comforting bulk as he explained that Leah was now so much in favour in the Imperial Harem that she had her own quarters complete with a separate kitchen, slave girls, and even a private garden.

“She is well?” Hannah asked.

“Never better,” said Mustafa, bowing and taking his leave in front of the open door of Leah’s apartment.

Dressed in a pair of fine silk trousers and a
pelisse
that reached her knees, Leah was standing at the window, an embroidery hoop in her hand. She raced over to embrace Hannah.

“I am happy to see you, Leah.” Hannah kissed the girl on the cheek. Leah looked well. Her green eyes glowed. Her body was rounder than when Hannah had first met her two months ago. Her face had lost the sharp angles, her jaw had softened. “Ezster brought me your message. I came as soon as I could.”

“You must help me, Hannah. You must transform me into a puff of smoke so I can drift out through the holes in the ceiling of the hamam and be free.”

“But whatever for?” Hannah made a sweeping gesture. “What of your marvellous new apartments?” But she felt like a hypocrite for her words of enthusiasm. To be a prisoner in this golden cage was not a life she would envy.

“It worked, you know. Your ruse. The opium. The egg,” Leah said.

“I am so happy for that,” said Hannah as she held the girl’s hand. She did not feel Leah relax. “But?” she asked, knowing Leah had more to say.

“Hannah, it was easy, as easy as slipping a pill down the throat of a child. I inserted the opium into the bite of apple, and I fed it to the Sultan. He was so transfixed, he hardly noticed the bitter taste. After Mustafa closed the curtains, the opium worked its magic. He was in a dreamlike trance, hardly aware I was there. I climbed on top of him, fully clothed, and wriggled back and forth to make the divan tremble.” She grimaced. “I did not forget your partridge egg filled with hen’s blood. When I reached the end of my performance, I cracked it open on the sheets and the Sultan in his daze was none the wiser. The coverlet was bloody, proof of my virginity when the curtains were opened the next morning.” Leah reached into the pocket of her trousers and took out her blue amulet, rubbed it against her cheek.

“You have accomplished a feat that other girls could not. I congratulate you.”

“I could not have done it without you, Hannah.” She kissed Hannah’s hand and pressed it to her forehead. “I was born into the harsh life of the mountains, raised on whatever is left over in the pot after the men have eaten. For my mother and grandmother and all the women before them, existence was work and pain. They survived using whatever resources they had. So have I.” Leah took a deep breath. “But Hannah, I must get out of this palace.”

“It is impossible,” Hannah said.

“There is something you don’t know.”

“If the Sultan calls you to his divan again, do not worry. You can repeat your performance. I have brought more opium.” Leah shook her head, waiting impatiently for Hannah to finish talking.

“I am with child.”

Hannah felt as though she had fallen from a great height and all of the air had been knocked from her. With child? “But you just said our ruse worked, that you didn’t have to—”

Leah grabbed Hannah’s hands in both of her own. “I was betrothed to Eliezer, the boy from the neighbouring village. He is the father of my child. He was murdered by the same savages who killed my family.” She stumbled against Hannah’s linen bag, making the birthing spoons clatter. “We loved each other. This child is the last of a long line of Jews from our part of the mountain.”

The image came to Hannah of holding Leah on the birthing stool, rubbing her back, wiping her brow, and finally cutting the birth cord of her child.

Leah pleaded, “Help me escape. I am in grave danger. I have to disappear fast before the truth becomes obvious.” Leah pointed to her belly and pulled the cloth of her
pelisse
tight. Hannah saw what would be abundantly clear to everyone in the palace if much more time passed—that the child Leah was carrying could not possibly be the Sultan’s because she was several months pregnant. It was only the narrowness of her pelvis and the loose clothing of the harem that had allowed her condition to pass unnoticed thus far.

“You knew from the first time we met that you were pregnant?”

“Yes,” Leah admitted.

Hannah thought back to Leah on the window ledge, her see-through shift, her distended belly—so, a pregnancy, not malnourishment.

“Hannah, I could not bear the thought of ending up in a brothel, giving birth to Eliezer’s son on a pile of rags, dying before I had a chance to give suck to the child.”

In the face of such a statement God Himself would be struck dumb. What was Hannah to do? She had a duty to help this girl and now her unborn child. But did she not also have a duty to protect herself and her own family?

“Let us think about what can be done.” Hannah sat down on the divan, feeling angry with Leah’s deception.

She willed herself to come up with a plan, and fast. But all she could think was that the child growing in Leah’s belly would be her death sentence, hers and Isaac’s.