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Authors: Roberta Rich

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Thrillers

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BOOK: The Harem Midwife
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“Was she beautiful, you ask, Your Highness?” Ezster repeated. “Is there a heroine in the world who was not thought more beautiful after leaving this earthly world for the next? There are no plain heroines or homely heroes.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the girls.

Ezster held up a finger upon which she wore a ring set with a citrine—not a valuable stone, but one that brought the bearer good luck. Hannah hoped it would work today. Ezster went on to tell the story of the beautiful maiden, but Hannah was too anxious to pay close attention. Before she knew it, Ezster had begun another tale.

“Now for a story about one of our illustrious neighbours from Araby. We have seen such types many times traversing the city in their caravans,” she said. Then, remembering these girls had never been permitted to leave the harem, she added, “Or you would have seen if you had ever shopped in the markets.” They all waited while Ezster swallowed a piece of
lokum
. “An Arab and his camel were crossing the desert with a cargo of spices,” she began, dusting powdered sugar off her hands. “The Arab pitched his tent one cold night and went to sleep. The camel put his nose inside the tent and said, ‘Master, it is so cold outside that icicles are forming in my nostrils. May I please keep my nose in your tent tonight?’ The Arab agreed and went back to sleep.

“A short while later, he heard a voice say, ‘Beloved Master, my forelegs are numb from cold. Can I put them in the tent as well?’ The Arab agreed and went back to
sleep. A dark shape pushed through the tent flap, and, bending its head low, nuzzled him with soft lips.”

Ezster paused long enough in her recitation to accept from a servant a bowl of beet soup, fragrant with ginger and cumin. “In the middle of the night,” she said, “the camel once again awakened the Arab. ‘Good sir, my hind legs are frozen. Can I place them in the tent?’ The Arab agreed. With a grunt, the camel collapsed next to him, squeezing the Arab so vigorously that the Arab was forced through the flap of the tent and pushed into the desert. For the rest of the night, the poor man froze outside.”

Everyone laughed—everyone, that is, except Hannah. It was as though Ezster were speaking directly to her about Grazia, warning her that Grazia would shove her out of her own house and take possession of everything Hannah had ever cherished—Isaac, Matteo, her livelihood.

Ezster took a taste of soup and smacked her lips. Every eye in the room was upon her. After patting her mouth with a cloth, she continued. “The Arab rose with difficulty the next morning because he was stiff from sleeping out in the cold all night. He prepared a soup of dried lamb in a watery broth. The camel started to plead, ‘Kind sir, just a taste. I have been having terrible dreams and crave the solace of some of your fine soup.’

“The Arab, furious with the beast, picked up the pot of soup and hurled it at the camel, covering him from head to chest in the boiling liquid.” Ezster rose from her cushioned stool and approached the Valide’s divan. Pulling back her arm, Ezster tipped her bowl of beet soup over
the Valide’s gown. The Valide leapt to her feet. “‘There!’ the camel-driver shouted. ‘Have the only thing I have left and then leave me in peace. It is better to starve alone than to be harassed by such a creature!’”

The bodice of the Valide’s lovely robe had turned a shocking red. “What have you done?” she screamed.

Hannah gave a cry, ran over to the Valide, and, with a cloth from a nearby table, began to mop at the stains. The Valide pushed her away and signalled for Mustafa.

Ezster, looking as though she were about to burst into tears, said, “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I do not know what possessed me. I was caught up in the story.” She was performing her role as the shamed storyteller perfectly. Her hands, usually never still, lay as motionless as a pair of dead doves.

The Valide stood stock-still, her mouth compressed into such a grim line that her lips disappeared. The women around her grabbed cloths and began rubbing her kaftan, which only made the stains grow larger. While everyone was thoroughly distracted, Hannah nodded in the direction of Leah, who slipped away from the Valide and toward the hamam.

The red stain on her bodice made the Valide look as though she had been stabbed. She glared at Ezster. “I have had enough for one day. Leave this instant. You shall return another day with better stories, and a new white gown to replace this one that you have ruined.” She turned and left the room, Mustafa following in her wake.

No one looked at Ezster. The odalisques moved uneasily
away from her. Many drifted to the hamam, where they commenced bathing. Through the archways and pillars, Hannah could see a few moving in twos and threes toward the private dressing rooms that ringed the pool, supported by a slave on each arm to keep them from falling off their pattens.

Seeming to recover herself, Ezster called out, “Tova! Where are you, my daughter? We must be going.”

A pregnant figure dressed in a brightly striped
pelisse
—yellow, pink, and green—emerged from the area near the hamam, eyes downcast, a veil covering her face. The girl walked over to Ezster, picked up the empty sack by her feet and slung it over her shoulder.

Ezster reached for her cane. The girl then took Ezster by the elbow and the pair made their way to the door. No one gave them a second look. To do so would be disloyal to the Valide.

Arm in arm they walked, the pregnant girl and Ezster, through the hamam to the gardens. Hannah allowed them a head-start and then followed several paces behind. Once in the garden, the two women proceeded to an orange tree, where Fikret’s reins had been tossed over a branch. The pregnant woman took Fikret by the bridle. The donkey jerked its head and gave a little buck at her touch. Ezster offered him a turnip from her bag and slapped his hindquarters, sending up puffs of dust. Two eunuchs, decorative swords tucked in their sashes, led the women past the Sultan’s menagerie toward the First Courtyard, never once daring to meet their eyes.

Hannah followed from a distance as they marched along, moving through the rose gardens and past the marble
fountain jetting rainbows of water into the air. For a moment, the women and the donkey resembled an exquisite Persian miniature. Finally, they disappeared through the gate.

What a performance! By the time the muezzin issued the cry for evening prayers, they would all be together at the
hoca
’s stall in the market, ready to make their way home.

Hannah returned to the reception room to gather her belongings. Mustafa, back from escorting the Valide to her apartments, unlocked the harem gate for Hannah. “Such a terrible thing. The Valide is so upset,” he said. “But she will recover. In a few weeks, the harem ladies will clamour for Ezster and the Valide will welcome her again.”

Hannah felt a stab of guilt. Ezster was indeed a true and loyal friend to sacrifice several weeks’ earnings for the sake of Hannah and a girl she did not know.

“Shall we have tea?”

Hannah put her hand on Mustafa’s arm. “I am too upset.” That much at least was true. “May we have tea another time?”

“Of course,” Mustafa replied. “But let me send you home in a carriage, Hannah. It is unwise for you to be wandering about on your own.”

“A walk will do me good.”

Mustafa raised an eyebrow.

“I need fresh air,” Hannah said, wrapping her
yaşmak
around her face, leaving only her eyes uncovered.

“Peace be with you, then.”

“Goodbye, Mustafa. Let us forget this afternoon as soon as we can.”

A few minutes later, having exited the palace, Hannah was walking along Seraglio Point. She smelled the breezes coming off the Bosporus. As she neared the markets, the fragrance of flower blossoms turned to the smell of fish. Cobblestones bit through her sandals, horse and camel dung clung to the hem of her skirts. She felt faint at the stench of the wool-makers street lined with rancid sheep fleeces spread out on airing racks to dry in the sun.

No matter. Everything was going according to plan. Kübra had been bribed with a garnet ring to lie about Leah’s sudden disappearance. She would say that the girl, overcome by melancholy for her murdered family and convinced she was carrying a princess and not a prince, had flung herself from the highest palace walls. There would be no way to verify her story since Leah’s body would be dashed on the rocks below. Robbers would strip her body of its silk clothing and jewels, then toss her into the sea.

Hannah hurried through the spice market, her skirts brushing against the glass bottles filled with wriggling leeches, powdered toadstools, and ginger soaked in the urine of pregnant camels—cures for fever, catarrh, and madness. She dodged piles of merchandise—copper cook pots, pottery dishes, wooden spoons. The gnarled, beseeching hands of beggars plucked at her, and she was overwhelmed at the sight of mothers with babies more dead than alive, and lepers missing fingers and toes. She emptied her pockets of small coins, knowing that even if she managed to sleep tonight, these scenes of human misery would haunt her dreams.

Through a series of intricate twists and turns, she reached the
hoca
’s stall. The old woman was bent on her rush mat, telling a young woman’s fortune. Pieces of molten lead simmered in a pot of boiling water. The old woman scooped them out with a ladle and tossed them in a pot of cold water. They sizzled. Steam rose. The lead hardened into twisted pieces. From these shapes, the old woman could divine the future of the young woman who squatted before her—whether her husband would be unfaithful, how many sons she would bear, and how she could cure the persistent sty in her eye. The old woman peered up at Hannah, grinned, and gestured by pinching two fingers together to signify that she should wait a moment so that she too could have her fortune told.

Hannah looked around, allowing her eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light. Young tea boys rushed by, serving from brass trays; merchants shouted out the virtues of their wares. From the minaret of a nearby mosque came the keening of the muezzin, calling the faithful to evening prayer. Fear began to rise in Hannah. She had not felt so frightened since she was a child and fell into the Rio de la Sensa in Venice, nearly drowning before a gondolier fished her out. She searched the area around the
hoca
’s stall, only to be greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Ezster, Tova, and Leah were nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER 19
Constantinople

SHOULD HANNAH WAIT?
She did not know how long she’d been standing there, the panic engulfing her. Where were Leah, Ezster, and Tova? The sun was sinking low in the sky. Isaac would wonder where she was. The merchants were packing up their wares and closing their stalls. Stray dogs gathered around the food vendors, eager for the scraps that the proprietors tossed them at the end of the day.

Finally, Hannah heard the clip-clop of hooves and Fikret with Tova on his back came into view. Leah and Ezster followed.

“I was so worried!” Hannah said, as soon as they were within earshot. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine,” said Ezster. “Just fine. Tova bribed one of the eunuchs to unlock the gate when we were leaving, but once in the First Courtyard, she slipped on a patch of mud and twisted her ankle.”

Hannah, concerned, said, “Are you really fine?” She reached over to touch Tova’s prominent belly.

“Yes, Hannah,” Tova said. “All is well.”

Hannah was greatly relieved. In the grand scheme of things, a twisted ankle was nothing. These three women were standing before her, all of them alive.

“Once we were outside the gate, Leah was waiting for us,” said Ezster. “A eunuch heard Tova’s cries of pain and sprang forward to help. I intercepted him and took Tova’s arm, and Leah took the other. Together we hoisted Tova onto Fikret. It did not take long for the eunuch to become suspicious. I gave him my day’s earnings so he’d forget the sight of two pregnant women dressed in identical striped kaftans.”

Both women were still dressed in matching garments. Tova said, “Leah planned to change into her own kaftan someplace out of the way. But with my little mishap, she didn’t have an opportunity.”

“I’m so glad you are all right, all of you,” Hannah said. “But we must get out of here before we are noticed.”

Leah had been very quiet throughout this exchange. Now, she looked at the women and spoke. “Before you go,” she said, “I want to say how wonderful I think the three of you are and how grateful I am for your help.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she pushed her veil higher on her face to hide them. “You have saved my life. And the life of my unborn child.”

“And mine,” said Hannah.

Leah took Hannah’s and Ezster’s hands and kissed them. Then she reached up to Fikret’s neck and patted Tova’s hand. Not knowing what else to do, Leah bowed her head and stood still before them. Only then did Hannah realize Leah had no idea what was to happen next.

“Leah, you are coming with me. To my house. We will keep you there until your confinement.”

Leah looked up at Hannah. Clearly, she did not know what to say. All she could manage was a sincere “Thank you, Hannah.”

BOOK: The Harem Midwife
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