Chapter 15 #3
“I know,” he answered, then drew her down onto the cushions with the others.
“Sultan Mehmet is no more,” he told them.
“My uncle has seized the throne, and is now Sultan Bayezit. My father is already fighting him, but I believe we are safe. My uncle knows I will not join my father. I have no soldiers or adherents to trouble the sultan. There are no heirs of my body. I am no threat to Bayezit.”
“Then why did he find it necessary to send a full troop of Janissaries to tell you of your grandfather’s passing?” the suspicious Shahdi wanted to know.
“My uncle was displaying his newfound power,” Amir replied with a chuckle. “He knows my home is not defendable. He was showing me his authority over us.”
“Are the Janissaries really gone?” Azura asked.
“I believe so, but the watchers on our hills will tell us if they have not returned. From now on I shall keep a watch so that we will not be taken unawares.”
“What will happen if your father does not cease his strife?” Maysun wanted to know. “Will the sultan punish us?”
“My uncle is a patient man, more like his grandfather Sultan Murad,” Amir answered his first wife. He could see his women were frightened by this new turn of events, and it disturbed him that they should be so. “The sultan will find a way to quiet my father’s ambitions,” he assured them.
But Prince Jem was a determined man. Where Bayezit was more serious, patient, and contemplative, his brother was a more romantic figure, a brilliant soldier, and oddly an extremely talented poet.
Bayezit held to the great traditions of the Ottoman, which was why the Janissaries favored him so greatly.
Jem, however, looked to Western Europe and change. The Janissaries did not want change.
Jem raised a force of Turcoman warriors and captured the city of Bursa, declaring himself sultan.
He reigned supreme for almost three weeks.
He offered to split the empire with Bayezit.
Jem would rule in Asia and Bayezit in Europe.
The sultan in Istanbul instead appointed the great Janissary hero, Gedik Ahmed Pasha, to lead his troops against Prince Jem.
Bayezit was the first of the Ottoman sultans not to lead his own soldiers, but to instead send a competent commander.
Twice, Jem was defeated, but Gedik Pasha could not capture him, and Jem was finally driven into exile.
But even in exile, he agitated resentments against his brother.
Amir’s trading vessels brought him word of his father’s travels as he escaped.
Jem moved through Jerusalem to Cairo, where he sought sanctuary with the Mamluk sultan, Kait Bey.
He made a holy pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, then returned to Ottoman territory to once more attempt to wrest the throne from his brother.
This time, however, his army deserted him before the gates of the city of Angora.
Jem fled south to the Cilicia and the Mediterranean.
Still, the sultan tried to appease his brother, offering him a generous income.
“The empire is a bride that cannot be shared between two rivals,” he told Jem.
Bayezit was saddened when his sibling, refusing to understand, sought refuge with the Knights Hospitaliers on the island of Rhodes.
Of course he was received with honor, the Christians delighted to have the sultan’s brother in their midst to use as a pawn.
The sultan then signed a treaty with the order’s Grand Master paying the knights forty-five thousand pieces of gold each year Prince Jem remained in their care.
Word of all of this filtered back to Prince Amir in bits and pieces.
It came via his own trading ship captains, who were instructed to learn all they could of Prince Jem’s activities.
Amir did not intend being taken unawares if he could avoid it.
He was not of a mind to suffer for his father’s rebellions.
His uncle was being very patient, but eventually the sultan would lose his patience.
He had done everything to pacify his brother, but Jem refused to be mollified.
But to Amir’s relief, his uncle did not seem to consider his nephew culpable for his father’s actions.
Captain Mahmud’s Janissary troop had gone back to Istanbul.
Life at the Moonlight Serai took on a regular and almost placid pace.
The prince’s trading vessels came and went regularly.
The seasons came and went. Azura often thought how surprised her mother would be to learn of the quiet life her daughter now lived.
She wondered if Francesca had managed to capture Enzo’s heart; how her younger sisters were growing up.
Did they ever think of her? Or was Orianna so angered at having been foiled in her plans for the daughter she had named Bianca that her name was never spoken in the palazzo of the Pietro d’Angelos?
And then one day she was surprised in a way she had not expected. Her husband came to her after speaking with one of his vessel captains. He carried a sealed letter, which he handed to her. Azura took it from him, a questioning look upon her face.
“What is this?” she asked him.
“Someone has written to you,” he answered. “It was given to one of my captains in Bursa, beloved. Open it.”
Azura broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes widened at the familiar hand. “It is from my brother Marco,” she told him as she quickly scanned the missive. “He would come and see me, Amir.”
She saw the prince’s face tighten with suppressed anger, and quickly said, “I do not need to see him, Amir. We will ignore this.” She slowly folded the parchment.
“I wonder what he was doing in Bursa,” she said, almost to herself.
“The Silk Road comes to an end in Bursa. He was undoubtedly there on your father’s business,” Amir told her.
“But how did he know how to find me?” Azura wondered.
“He undoubtedly learned of my ships, and sought out any of my captains in that port,” the prince reasoned. “That was very clever of him.”
“I never thought Marco particularly clever,” Azura said drily.
“Do you want to see him?” Amir asked her.
“I do,” she admitted, “but if it disturbs you, I will not. Perhaps it is better to let sleeping dogs lie, my lord.”
“No!” he replied, swallowing his pride and his anger that Azura’s family was again attempting to interfere in their lives. “Your family is curious, and will once more attempt to lure you back to them. Let him come! I will not release you, beloved. I will not!”
Now Azura laughed, and slid her arms about his neck, her body pressing against his.
“I don’t want to go back, Amir, my dearest love.
I am simply curious about why Marco has chosen this moment to contact me, although he is undoubtedly curious about this life I live with you.
I held him responsible for my marriage to Rovere.
I believe he wants to see if I am happy with you.
If you would have him come, then let it be according to your word.
I am content to abide by it.” She kissed him a long, sweet kiss.
Wrapping his arms about her, he enjoyed the kiss.
How long had they been together now? Almost three years, and he was as happy now as the day he had brought her to the Moonlight Serai.
No, happier, he reconsidered. “He may come, but he must sleep on the ship that brings him. I’ll tell my captain. ” He kissed her a long, hard kiss.
How vulnerable he is, Azura suddenly thought, enjoying his possession. “Of course, my dearest lord.”
“He will not meet the others,” Amir said.
“Certainly not!” Azura responded, shocked. She had come to have certain Turkish sensibilities. A man’s harem was sacrosanct.
“And you will visit with each other in the salon used for visitors,” Amir told her.
“Perhaps the garden as well,” she suggested.
“If your companion wives do not wish to walk,” he added.
“You are most generous, my lord,” she said.
“You are making fun of me,” he accused her.
“This is my older brother who wishes to visit, Amir, not a former suitor,” she replied, laughing softly.
“Any other man who attempted to visit you who is not my uncle or my father would find himself with his throat slit,” the prince told her seriously.
“Then I shall certainly tell Marco not to reveal the location of my home to anyone else, my lord,” she said. “I should not want the blood of innocents on my hands.”
“Azura, this is serious,” he said. “It is unusual for the family of a woman such as yourself to come visiting under such circumstances. I don’t want to allow your brother here, but I can see it means a great deal to you.
I will always strive to please you, beloved.
” He sighed. “You know how much I love you.”
“Loving me does not mean just possessing me, Amir,” she said, gently chiding him.
“You must trust me, for I would never betray you in any way. I have an opportunity to do what so many women who are brought to the empire do not. I can tell my family I am well, and gloriously happy with you. Happier than I have ever been in all of my life. Being your wife suits me even if I must share you with Maysun and Shahdi. That is what I would tell my brother so he may tell our family. Let there be no doubts about how I feel. I love you, my lord Amir. Only death will part us.”
“I am a jealous fool,” he declared.
“You are,” she agreed, “and I am flattered by it, but I shall see Marco and reassure him of my happiness. Whether he agrees with me or not, he will tell our family what I have said.”
Marco Pietro d’Angelo was brought across the Sea of Marmara and through the Strait of the Bosphorus into the Black Sea.
When the ship anchored just off the north coast he could just see the white marble of the palace on the green hills above.
He was rowed ashore, and met by a tall, handsome, fair-skinned man with deep blue eyes and dark hair who didn’t look foreign at all.
“I am Amir ibn Jem,” the prince said, introducing himself. “Welcome to my home.”
Marco bowed in spite of himself. The man before him had presence and dignity. “I am Marco Pietro d’Angelo, Bianca’s older brother,” he responded. “I must assume you have brought me here so I may see my sister.”
“Come!” the prince said, not bothering to answer his visitor’s question. “We must climb this hill to get to the palace where your sister awaits you.”
The prince climbed easily and quickly, but Marco, not used to physical exercise, was slower. By the time they reached the top of the hill he was puffing and out of breath.
Amir smiled wickedly to himself. Azura’s brother would have to climb that hill each time he came to see her. He would be quickly gone. “Your sister awaits you in the garden, Marco Pietro d’Angelo,” the prince told his winded guest. Then he pointed.
Marco looked in the direction the prince pointed. He saw a veiled female figure dressed in a violet silk robe standing quietly. “Bianca?” He walked forward, and when he reached her Marco recognized his sister’s beautiful eyes above the sheer veil.
Azura lowered the delicate silk covering her face. “Marco,” she said, smiling at him. Then, leaning forward, she kissed him on both cheeks and, taking his hand, invited him to sit with her. “Why have you come?” she asked him. “You have distressed my husband by your actions.”
“Your husband? You are married?” He looked surprised.
“Under the laws of this land, yes, I am Prince Amir’s third wife,” Azura said quietly. “Did you believe I had been kidnapped and forced into carnal slavery?” She laughed. “I’m sure Mother spread such a rumor, for to admit that her daughter loved an infidel would have been beyond her.”
“They said you screamed and struggled when you were taken from your bridal vessel,” Marco told her. “It created a great to-do in Venice, and a scandal when the doge refused to intervene with the sultan.”
“It was not me who was taken from that flower-bedecked gondola,” Azura said.
“It was Francesca. She was in love with Enzo, and I knew Amir was coming for me. So we conspired to switch places that day.” She then went on to explain to her brother how when Amir discovered that the veiled bride was not Bianca he had with Francesca’s aid returned to their grandfather’s palazzo so they might again switch places.
“Did Francesca finally capture Enzo’s heart? ” Azura asked her brother.
“No. He was married three months later to an Orsini. A widow who had produced two sons for her late husband,” Marco told her.
“Ahh, poor Francesca,” Azura said sympathetically. “Is she married yet? I’m sure another husband was found for her.”
“Grandfather sent her back to Florence. He said he was too old to have to contend with young marriageable girls any longer. He claimed that both you and Francesca have disgraced the Venier name. Mother was furious, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, I can indeed imagine,” Azura said. “Are the others well? And our father?”
“All thrive,” Marco told her.
“I am glad,” Azura said. Then she arose. “You may come and see me again tomorrow, Marco. And you will tell me then why you have sought me out.” Turning, she left him standing surprised by her departure.
A slave was at his elbow. “I am to escort you down to the beach, sir,” he said to Marco.
“You will be taken back to the vessel, and my master says you are to return tomorrow at this same hour.” He led the guest from the prince’s garden and back down the steep incline to the shore, where a small boat was already waiting to return Marco to the anchored ship.
Marco Pietro d’Angelo was disappointed. There were so many questions he had for Bianca, but she had controlled the conversation. Still, he had been told he might return. He would ask his questions then, and this time he would get his answers.