Free The Kadin by Bertrice Small Page B

favorite, Firousi. She never became a kadin, having had the misfortune to bear Bajazet twin daughters. They are now grown and married to government officials. Rather than retire to the Pavilion of Older Damsels, she became mistress of an oda. It is not a particularly distinguished one, for since Kiusem’s death, Besma has regained some of her power over the sultan. You will, however, be safe there, and out of Bajazet’s way if you obey me and the lady Refet She is a kind woman and has been apprised of our plans since the beginning.
    “The next four months will be a period of intensive study for you. Not only must you learn our language in that time, but you must learn our customs, some of our music, our dances, and, most important of all, the physical ways to please your master. It will not be easy for you, but I believe you are each extraordinary in your own special way. I know you can do it
    “Will you help me, Cyra!” She nodded.
    “Firousi?”
    “Yes, Hadji Bey.”
    “Zuleika?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good! This is a dangerous task I have set you, and your silence is the key to its success. Discuss it with no one, not even among yourselves. I cannot stress that enough. The seraglio is filled with slaves whose only task is to listen and report all that is said among the maidens. The merest hint of my plans, and you could easily end up in a weighted sack tossed into the sea.
    “Go to your cabin now and rest, for tomorrow evening we reach Constantinople. From this moment on, I am the agha kislar, not your special friend, but fear not my daughters, I will be watching you and guarding your lives.”
    They left him, and for a moment he stood quietly. Then, going to a chest by his couch, he lifted up a black velvet bag. Slipping out a shallow, seamless crystal bowl, he set it on the table and poured some fresh water into it. He sat down and gazed deeply into the still water. For several minutes he contemplated the visions that came to him in the water. A smile played across his lips.
    “It will go well,” he whispered softly to himself. “Praise Allah! It will go well!”
    At the moment Hadji Bey was gazing into his crystal bowl, Pietro di San Lorenzo was landing at Arcobaleno. Delayed by a fierce storm, he had not thought to see land again. He went directly to the pink villa of the earl of Glenkirk. The earl was devastated by his news.
    “Was there nothing you could do?” he asked.
    “My lord, I thought I had her safe. I jumped the caliph of Baghdad’s bid by five thousand pieces of gold. Abdul ben Abdul was raising his gavel to finalize the sale when that devil Hadji Bey bid thirty thousand. I protested his bid. I even tried to raise the money from among the other buyers, but there was none who would dare defy the sultan of the Ottoman Empire. All sales must be cash.”
    “Perhaps the sultan would ransom her,” suggested the earl.
    “There is no chance, my lord. It was not just any eunuch who bought your daughter. It was Hadji Bey, the agha kislar himself. He is the most powerful man, aside from the sultan, in Bajazet’s household.
    “This man rarely leaves Constantinople. He is not a buyer of slave girls, yet the gossip is that he has been out of Constantinople for several months. He is reported to have bought a maid of Cathay in Baghdad and an exquisite blond in Damascus. He almost killed himself to get to the sale in Candia. Your daughter and these other girls are obviously meant for something special. There is simply no hope of ransom.”
    Six weeks later, a heartbroken Patrick Leslie, his son, Adam, and Mary MacKay returned to Scotland. When the king had the temerity to suggest another diplomatic post, the earl exploded.
    “I have given you three years of my life, and lost my only daughter in your service, James Stuart! You’ll not get more from me! I return to Glenkirk and never will you see my face again!”
    Rudolfo di San Lorenzo mourned his loss but three months. Then, the negotiations being settled,