Free SERAGLIO by Colin Falconer Page A

not afraid because you were there to protect me.'
    'I cannot always be there. We must all face death alone some time.'
    No, he could not mean it! I am your Vizier, Suleiman! Your Seraskier, your friend! I have eaten at your table, slept in your tent through endless campaigns! 'The only thing I fear is the way death comes. You swore to me once that you would never condemn me. I could not bear the dishonour of dying that way.'
    'I remember my oath, and I will never break it.'
    Ibrahim stared at him in confusion. What then? What is he planning? 'My Lord, I am just a man, and I have made many mistakes. There is something I must confess-'
    Suleiman put up his hand to still him. 'You do not have to plead your case with me Ibrahim.'
    'But my lord-'
    'There is no need to say more. I am tired. We will talk again tomorrow.'
     
    ***
     
    Suleiman rose to his feet. His head felt like lead. The drugged wine had affected him more than it seemed to have affected Ibrahim. He just wanted to sleep, longed only for this ordeal to be over.
    'The pages will prepare your bed. Sleep well, my friend.'
    Ibrahim rose to embrace him. 'Sleep well, my Lord.'
    Suleiman embraced him, then pushed him away and went into his private chamber, locking the door behind him.
     
    ***
     
    Hürrem rose from the bed and hurried over to him. He was gray. I must not let him change his mind, she thought.
    She was naked except for rose damask trousers and a single pearl fastened around her waist. He did not even seem to notice.
    I will make him notice, she thought. I will make him drunk with wine and drunk with me and when he has had a surfeit of both, he will sleep. When he wakes it will all be over.
    'My Lord …'
    'He all but begged me for his life.'
    She laid her head on his chest.
    'I cannot stand this! Hold me little russelana .'
    She took him over to the bed. 'Drink this,' she whispered, and offered him a goblet of wine.
    'It will help me sleep?'
    You should be unconscious already! she thought. He took the goblet and swallowed it in one draught. He allowed her to undress him then, something she had never let him do before. He sat on the bed, head bowed, and then she laid him down.
    She lay on top of him, her small breasts brushing his chest. She wriggled against him. He did not respond. She kissed his chest, his belly, his …
    He twisted away from her and sat up. He made for the door.
    'My Lord!'
    'I cannot …'
    She thought he would break then, even tried to throw open the door, then remembered it was locked. He sank to his haunches, his hands across his stomach as if he had been stabbed. Hürrem refilled the goblet with more of the drugged wine and hurried across the room with it. She held the cup to his lips and he gulped it with the desperation of a man dying of thirst. 'Do not let it happen while I am awake, russelana . I must not break my oath! Let it not happen while I am awake!'
    She cradled his head between her breasts, cooing to him as if he were a baby. 'Sleep, my Lord. Sleep …'
    After a while she felt his head grow heavy. She lay on the floor beside him and held him while he twitched and muttered in his sleep. She prayed for the bostanji to hurry up and do their work.

Chapter 19
     
    Ibrahim paced the room, ignoring the bed the pages had made up for him, fighting the heaviness in his limbs and the numbing tiredness that had all but overwhelmed him. He walked into the wall. The wine! Suleiman had drugged him!
    No, he would not do that! Never!
    He must stay awake. He would not let them find him sleeping. He must stay awake! He was Ibrahim, Vizier to the Magnificent. He could not die at the Sultan's hand. He had his prince's word, his oath before God.
    So why had the pages locked the door behind them?
    He felt dizzy and leaned against the wall. If I sit down I will sleep. It must have been the wine! This cannot be happening.
    He heard footsteps in the corridor outside and a noise that sounded like the yelp of a dog. The deaf-mutes! The bostanji ! A