Chapter 15 #2
“And the least interested in either ruling or fighting, as is well known by all,” he told her.
“I am not considered fit to rule. My mother learned the way of the harem quickly, and knew how to help a son survive. All who are important are aware that Prince Jem’s son is a disappointment to him, giving his unquestioned loyalty to the sultan first, and preferring to dabble in carpets and antiquities, not warfare and power.
I have been called the un-Ottoman,” he said with a small smile.
It was then that Azura spoke up. “You cannot know what your uncle will do, my lord, no matter his past friendship with you. You must be on your guard, at least for the interim. We need to plan an escape should we have no other choice.”
They looked at her, surprised.
“Do you understand the situation, then, Azura?” Shahdi asked her.
“I am Florentine,” Azura answered her. “Deception is in our blood where matters of survival or profit are concerned. I understand very well what is happening. I did not defy my family to become Amir’s wife only to lose him.” She turned to him. “We must prepare for whatever is to happen, my lord.”
“The Moonlight Serai is not a castle. It is a pleasure palace, and as such it provides us no real defenses, as a castle might,” he explained to her.
“Then we should go,” Azura said.
“No,” he responded. “To flee would be to proclaim I was guilty of some crime. I will not do that. I will trust in my uncle’s goodwill.
Someone in my grandfather’s palace sent to warn me of the changes that might take place.
I will remain and show my loyalty to the new sultan, whoever he may be—if indeed my grandfather is dead. ”
Still, he made certain that Diya al Din posted slaves on the hills to give them advance warning of any visitors.
They heard nothing for the next few weeks. Spring moved into early summer.
Finally, late one June morning, the watchers on the hills surrounding the Moonlight Serai began signaling from one to another and finally to the little palace itself that a large party of riders was approaching.
Amir sent word to his wives, and then they waited—Amir in his own quarters, the three women in theirs.
“It will be the Janissaries,” Maysun said, and Shahdi nodded.
“Why are you so afraid of these Janissaries?” Azura asked. “You speak of them as if they were the devil’s own soldiers.”
“They are!” Shahdi replied.
“The Janissaries are the young sons of Christians taken in war,” Maysun explained.
“They are then cosseted and cared for with great kindness, converted to Islam, and finally trained in the fiercest warfare and taught total loyalty to the sultan. Whomever the Janissaries follow will be sultan. If truth be told, the Conqueror preferred Jem among his sons because of his warlike proclivities, despite the fact that the prince was always rebelling against his father. But the Janissaries lean towards Bayezit, for he embodies the old traditions of the Ottomans. It is likely the Janissaries approaching this palace have been sent by Bayezit to either ascertain our husband’s position in the succession or kill us all. ”
For this she had fled Florence, fled Venice, given up her family? To die at the hands of strangers in some stupid war over a succession? Azura felt fear filling her. Angrily she forced it back down. “We are not going to die,” she said.
“No,” Shahdi replied. “With luck, after we are all raped, we’ll be given to some officer or sold to add coinage to the Janissaries’ already fat coffers.”
Maysun gave a little sob.
“Stop it, both of you!” Azura said. “No one is going to die today. What a pair of silly ewe sheep you two are. I am going to the spy hole in our husband’s apartment to learn what is happening.
Don’t tell Ali Farid if you can find him.
I expect he has hidden himself away by now. Agata, come with me!”
The two women hurried from the harem apartments, making their way quickly to Prince Amir’s quarters.
The corridors of the little palace were empty and quiet, for all but the bravest among the slaves would have hidden themselves by now.
Quietly Azura and Agata secreted themselves within the narrow confines of the spy hole.
Amir was pacing his antechamber with slow, measured steps.
He was dressed soberly in a dark blue silk robe trimmed with silver embroidery.
His head was covered by a small matching turban.
Azura worried that he might look too regal.
They heard the sound of booted feet in the corridor.
Agata reached out to clutch at her mistress’s sleeve.
Azura stared intently through the spy hole, her eyes meeting those of Amir.
He knew she was there. The large double doors to the prince’s apartment were flung open by two frightened slaves who nonetheless had remained.
Diya al Din was with them. He was ashen in color but he too had stayed.
“My lord prince,” the head eunuch spoke. “You have visitors.”
A Janissary captain stepped forward. He bowed respectfully. “Prince Amir, I am Captain Mahmud, sent by your uncle, Sultan Bayezit,” he began.
“Is my grandfather dead?” Amir asked the captain.
“The Conqueror died on the fourth of May at the hour of afternoon prayer,” Captain Mahmud said.
Amir briefly closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer. When he opened his eyes again he looked directly at the Janissary. “How may I serve the sultan?” he asked the man before him.
“I have no instructions other than to deliver my message to you, Highness,” was the reply. Captain Mahmud understood the delicate position of this Ottoman prince.
The prince turned briefly to Diya al Din. “See that the captain’s men are well fed, and their horses taken care of,” Amir instructed the head of his household staff.
The eunuch bowed. “At once, my prince,” he replied.
Amir now turned his attention back to the Janissary. “I am grateful that my uncle thought to send me word,” he said.
Captain Mahmud’s lips twitched with amusement but he answered politely, “And I am grateful for your hospitality, as my men will be. We will, however, begin our return to the capital as soon as they have eaten and the horses have been taken care of by your slaves.”
“My wives will be relieved,” Amir responded with a grin. “The approach of your troop frightened them.”
“I hope the children were not afraid,” Captain Mahmud said.
“There are no children,” Amir replied. “But come and join me in some refreshment.” He clapped his hands, and to his relief his slaves hurried in with sweet, cold fruit sherbets and a light meal of roasted chicken, saffron rice, and warm flat bread with a dish of yogurt mixed with dill and cucumbers for dipping.
The two men sat companionably upon the cushions about a small ebony-and-ivory-inlaid table.
“Women with children tend to give all their attention to their offspring,” Captain Mahmud noted. “Women without children give all their attention to their lord and master. That is a good thing, eh, Highness?” And he chuckled.
Amir nodded. “I must admit my wives spoil me terribly, and I feel no lack at being childless,” he said.
Then he leaned forward, dipping a piece of bread in the sauce, putting it in his mouth, and chewing it thoughtfully.
“Tell me what is happening, Captain. I cannot believe my father has taken my uncle’s decision either lightly or easily. ”
Captain Mahmud put a piece of chicken in his mouth and scooped up some rice. “No,” he said, then swallowed. “Your uncle managed to reach Istanbul first, where we had already taken control of the city for him.”
“My grandfather’s Grand Vizier favored my father,” Amir remarked.
“We executed him before the new sultan arrived in the city, and also intercepted and executed his emissaries to Prince Jem,” Captain Mahmud said.
All but one, Amir thought, realizing now who had sent the messenger to him warning him of the changes to come. “And my father?” he asked.
“Is rousing the Turcoman tribes to fight for supremacy in this quarrel,” the Janissary captain said. “I must admit to admiring Prince Jem’s fiery spirit, Highness, but he will not prevail.”
“No,” Amir said, “he will not. Does my uncle wish me to return to Istanbul with you?”
“No, no, that is not necessary, Highness. You are content here in your little palace, and the sultan knows he has your complete and total loyalty,” Captain Mahmud replied, smiling toothily.
“Indeed, the sultan does have my complete loyalty,” Amir responded.
“Then there is nothing more to say,” Captain Mahmud answered.
As he had ceased eating, a slave brought a bowl of rose water and a linen napkin for his hands.
The Janissary washed the grease and other food residue from his fingers, and dried them.
Amir did the same. Then both men rose as Diya al Din came to tell his master that the Janissary troop had been fed and their mounts cared for, and were now ready to depart.
“Let me escort you to your horse,” Amir said.
“Please convey to my uncle, the sultan, my grateful thanks for sending me word of what is transpiring. He has honored my house.” The prince bowed to Captain Mahmud, who bowed in return before mounting his animal.
Amir stood politely as the Janissary troop, in their distinctive red and green uniforms upon their brown horses, wheeled about and galloped off.
“Make certain they go,” the prince instructed his head eunuch.
“Send to the watchers on the hillsides to be certain. Tell them they are to remain at their posts until I instruct them otherwise.”
“At once, Highness,” Diya al Din said.
“Then gather the slaves so I may tell them what they should know,” Amir told the eunuch before returning back into his home and going to the harem quarters, where his women awaited him anxiously.
Azura came immediately to him, and his arms wrapped about her briefly. “I listened,” she said.