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attachment to Gülbehar, it was his mother.
    'They all cherish the opportunity to serve their master as best they can.'
    'Of course they do!' She knew that, she had been a slave girl once, before Selim had thrown his handkerchief across her shoulder. 'Are any of them a match for Gülbehar?'
    'They all think they are,' the Kapi Aga said with a tight smile. Normally he would have allowed himself many such small jokes in the course of an audience, but it was hard to relax this morning.
    The Valide looked through the window and across the gleaming cupolas of the Harem. She tapped the fingers of her left hand against her thumb as if she was silently calculating figures in her head. 'I shall talk to the Lord of Life,' she said. 'Thank you for bringing this subject to my attention.'
    The Kapi Aga wanted to scream: 'Wait, I haven't said it all yet!' but he knew when he had been dismissed. He bowed and backed towards the door.
    'One other thing.'
    'Yes, Highness?'
    'Do you have any particular girl in mind?'
    He tried to hide his relief. He had thought she might not ask him. 'There is one girl I think might turn our Lord's head from the Rose of Spring. She has the sort of quick mind and lively nature he may find more than pleasing.'
    'Her name?'
    'Hürrem, Highness. Her name is Hürrem.'
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    The Qur'an decreed: 'Virtue is at the feet of the mother.' Whenever Suleiman came to the Eski Saraya, it was required by custom and by religion that he visit his mother first. He had always enjoyed his mother's company so this was one burden of office that did not sit heavy with him.
    Hafise Sultan sat on the terrace in a flowered brocade kaftan, the spring sunshine sparkling on the dusting of baroque pearl and garnets in her hair. She seemed to enjoy these useless baubles more than real gems. It was an endearing vanity.
    'Mother.' Suleiman kissed her hand and raised it to her forehead. He sat on the divan beside her, holding her hand in both of his. One of her handmaids hurried to fetch sherbets and rosewater.
    'You are well?'
    'I feel the chill more than I once did. At my age you look forward to spring.'
    'You are not so old.'
    'I am a grandmother,' she said. 'At least - I have one grandson. I suppose that is the same thing.'
    Suleiman threw back his head and laughed. 'So that's what's wrong. You are so transparent.'
    'I am saddened at how lightly you treat an old woman's fears.' Hafise pulled her hand away and chose a fig from the bowl of fruit in front of her. 'And what of the conqueror of Rhodes? Where does the Divan urge you to strike next?'
    'You will hear no war drums this year. All my generals are still licking their wounds. It will be some time before they are ready to stretch their claws again.'
    'And what about you?'
    He sighed. 'The thought of another campaign sickens me to my soul.'
    'A Sultan who refuses to carry the banner of Muhammad into battle shall not remain a Sultan for long. The Yeniçeris will see to that.'
    'You do not need remind me of my duty, to them or to God. But for this season at least I have had enough of war.'
    Hafise chose another fig with care, sifting for the right words with equal delicacy. 'A Sultan's duty lies not only on the battlefield.'
    So, here was the real business; her first words to him that morning should have warned him. They were to talk of Gülbehar again. 'The Osmanlis have an heir,' he said.
    'And what if he sickens? A Sultan should have many sons.'
    'So they can murder each other when I am dead?' Suleiman thought about his father, Selim - Selim the Grim, they had called him. He had deposed his own father with the support of the Yeniçeris , then poisoned him on his way to exile. He then murdered his two brothers and eight nephews so his sultanate could not be challenged. He had murdered Suleiman's own brothers so that he would not be burdened with the same grisly business. Did he doubt that he would have had the stomach for it? Suleiman himself had not had a moment's ease