pestilence. He took a step backward and his sword slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the marble. His eyes were as wide as a horse bolting from a fire. He tried to say something and couldn't. A thread of saliva spilled from his bottom lip.
'You are thinking it's not possible? That's what she thought, too. But I promise you, Kapi Aga, you have defied their efforts to unman you.'
'Who are you? What do you want?'
'I'm Meylissa's friend.' She looked at the killiç lying on the marble. 'Pick it up,' she said, for no other reason than to test her advantage.
He bent to do as he was told. 'What do you want?'
'I want to help you.'
'I remember you now. You're the Russian girl. We bought you from the Tatars.'
She watched him with amusement; each question, each calculation was written there on his face as plain as if it was an illuminated page from the Qur'an.
'Who else knows?' he said.
'It would be so easy to toss us both in the Bosphorus in the middle of the night and be done with the whole thing. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? That's why we have told one other. Someone whose name you will never know.'
'I know you. The Kiaya calls you her little minx.'
'I am my own minx. I belong to no one.'
He sheathed his sword. He had the look of a trapped animal about him, cowed but still dangerous. 'So you want to help me?'
'I want to help Meylissa, but it will help you too. Or perhaps you do not wish my help. You could marry her and raise a family together.'
'Do not mock me!' He took a step towards her, bold again. 'How do I know this is true?'
'You do not. You might never know for certain until it is too late. One night the Sultan will appear in your quarters with two sacks. One for my friend Meylissa when they throw her in the Bosphorus. The other sack will be to collect the pieces of his former Kapi Aga after the bostanji -basha has finished cutting him into small pieces.'
'You're just a houri . What can you do?'
'I can eliminate your problem for you.'
'Eliminate?'
'Completely.'
'There is a witch in here who knows how to do this?'
'In return you will do something for me.'
'How do I know you are telling me the truth?'
'How can you be sure I'm not?'
He wanted to throttle her, that was plain, but that would not do him any good. He puffed out his cheeks and then, to her astonishment, stamped his foot. 'All right,' he said, at last. 'What is it you want? A better position? Clothes? Money?'
'You value your life so cheap?'
The sun was low in the sky now, and the minaret had turned blood-red. He should be reaching the sublime moment there in the shadows not bargaining with this impudent little slave girl. 'What is it you are after?'
'I want you to get me into the Sultan's bed.'
'What? But I cannot do that. It's impossible!'
'Then you must make it possible. Or else it is very possible indeed that the Sultan will discover your perfidy and have you hung on a hook and leave you to turn black in the sun. You know the punishment.'
'The Sultan never sleeps with any woman but Gülbehar, you know that! What you are asking is not in my power!'
For the first time Hürrem stopped smiling. 'Enjoy your death. I believe the bostanji-bashi will give you plenty of time to savour it.'
She walked away. The shadows crept across the garden and the Kapi Aga watched them come, frozen with terror.
Chapter 7
The Harem dated back to the time when the Osmanli Turks were no more than nomadic traders living on the wild plains of Anatolia and Azerbaijan. The idea of the Harem was borrowed from the Persians, as a convenience for warriors who were away from the tribe for long months at a time. When the Osmanlis gave up their nomadic lifestyle, creating a capital first at Bursa, then Stamboul, the Harem had become an institution in itself and a rigid hierarchy had evolved, with its own protocols and government.
The Harem was not governed by the Sultan, but by the Sultan's mother - the Sultan Valide. The Sultan was
'You are thinking it's not possible? That's what she thought, too. But I promise you, Kapi Aga, you have defied their efforts to unman you.'
'Who are you? What do you want?'
'I'm Meylissa's friend.' She looked at the killiç lying on the marble. 'Pick it up,' she said, for no other reason than to test her advantage.
He bent to do as he was told. 'What do you want?'
'I want to help you.'
'I remember you now. You're the Russian girl. We bought you from the Tatars.'
She watched him with amusement; each question, each calculation was written there on his face as plain as if it was an illuminated page from the Qur'an.
'Who else knows?' he said.
'It would be so easy to toss us both in the Bosphorus in the middle of the night and be done with the whole thing. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? That's why we have told one other. Someone whose name you will never know.'
'I know you. The Kiaya calls you her little minx.'
'I am my own minx. I belong to no one.'
He sheathed his sword. He had the look of a trapped animal about him, cowed but still dangerous. 'So you want to help me?'
'I want to help Meylissa, but it will help you too. Or perhaps you do not wish my help. You could marry her and raise a family together.'
'Do not mock me!' He took a step towards her, bold again. 'How do I know this is true?'
'You do not. You might never know for certain until it is too late. One night the Sultan will appear in your quarters with two sacks. One for my friend Meylissa when they throw her in the Bosphorus. The other sack will be to collect the pieces of his former Kapi Aga after the bostanji -basha has finished cutting him into small pieces.'
'You're just a houri . What can you do?'
'I can eliminate your problem for you.'
'Eliminate?'
'Completely.'
'There is a witch in here who knows how to do this?'
'In return you will do something for me.'
'How do I know you are telling me the truth?'
'How can you be sure I'm not?'
He wanted to throttle her, that was plain, but that would not do him any good. He puffed out his cheeks and then, to her astonishment, stamped his foot. 'All right,' he said, at last. 'What is it you want? A better position? Clothes? Money?'
'You value your life so cheap?'
The sun was low in the sky now, and the minaret had turned blood-red. He should be reaching the sublime moment there in the shadows not bargaining with this impudent little slave girl. 'What is it you are after?'
'I want you to get me into the Sultan's bed.'
'What? But I cannot do that. It's impossible!'
'Then you must make it possible. Or else it is very possible indeed that the Sultan will discover your perfidy and have you hung on a hook and leave you to turn black in the sun. You know the punishment.'
'The Sultan never sleeps with any woman but Gülbehar, you know that! What you are asking is not in my power!'
For the first time Hürrem stopped smiling. 'Enjoy your death. I believe the bostanji-bashi will give you plenty of time to savour it.'
She walked away. The shadows crept across the garden and the Kapi Aga watched them come, frozen with terror.
Chapter 7
The Harem dated back to the time when the Osmanli Turks were no more than nomadic traders living on the wild plains of Anatolia and Azerbaijan. The idea of the Harem was borrowed from the Persians, as a convenience for warriors who were away from the tribe for long months at a time. When the Osmanlis gave up their nomadic lifestyle, creating a capital first at Bursa, then Stamboul, the Harem had become an institution in itself and a rigid hierarchy had evolved, with its own protocols and government.
The Harem was not governed by the Sultan, but by the Sultan's mother - the Sultan Valide. The Sultan was
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