Free The Harem Midwife by Roberta Rich

over the harem wall for young men to find. And likely these bored young females would do exactly that. Who could blame them? Wouldn’t Hannah do exactly the same thing in their place?
    “Where is your family?” Leah asked.
    “My husband and son are here. The rest of my family live in the ghetto in Venice.” Hannah had a few cousins and a younger brother, Samuel, all of whom she missed. Her sister Jessica had died tragically before Hannah left Venice, under circumstances Hannah could barely bring herself to think of.
    “You are better off than me,” said Leah in a small voice. She peered at Hannah from behind the gauzy curtain. Her beautiful face was in need of a good scrubbing. “What do you miss the most about Venice?”
    Everything
, Hannah thought but didn’t say. Isaac claimed that with the passage of time, her vivid imagination had transformed Venice from a city of fetid canals and Jew-haters to an earthly Babylon. Hannah noticed the girl’s posture had relaxed, though she made no move to leave the promontory of her window ledge.
    “The ghetto is what I miss. The smell of cooking—sardines in brine, baby artichokes fried in garlic, warm bread and pudding. Here in Constantinople all I smell isthe reek of sheeps’ entrails, the cloying stink of overripe persimmons, and beef tripe rotting on the butchers’ tables—” She caught herself. This kind of talk would not assist the girl. “I have been cursed with an oversensitive nose. The smells here are no worse than the ghetto at home, just different. When I was a child, my father used to tease me by saying that had Jews been allowed such an occupation, I would have made an excellent perfumer. He was right, but I am happy to be what I am—a midwife.”
    “You are a kind woman.”
    And you, dear heart, could use some kindness, Hannah thought. You have suffered more than most women twice your age and yet, look at you. Not bowed, not broken, feisty as an alley cat.
    “Leah, you cannot control your life any more than you can control the tides. When you flail and thrash and growl and grumble, when you struggle against the inevitable, you will drown. But, if you let go and float, you will be borne aloft. Allow me to help you.”
    Hannah heard the exhalation of long-held breath. She climbed onto the stool and softly touched one of the girl’s ankles, pressing her thumb on the knob of the delicate bone. As she did so, she said, still speaking in Hebrew, “No one here will harm you if you obey. Come down before the eunuchs arrive. They will not be as gentle as I will.”
    Now that she was closer to the girl, Hannah could see her heart-shaped face and trembling mouth. Through the worn material of her shift, Hannah noticed her delicate clavicles. The girl was far too thin, her belly distended frommalnutrition. Her skin was stretched as tightly over her kneecaps as hide on drums.
    “Come down,” Hannah said. “Even a mountain lion must eat. I have a peach in my bag.”
    Hannah released the girl’s ankle and held out her arms, listening for sounds of further throat clearing or, worse, the whoosh of a knife slicing through the air. There was only silence. Hannah stood on tiptoes. The girl bent over slightly, and Hannah took her hand and squeezed it.
    “Be a good girl now.”
    There was a flash of iron and the knife hit the tile floor and skittered against the wall.
    Leah eased herself to the rim of the window ledge and held out her arms. Hannah swung her down and set her on the floor. She weighed more than Matteo but not by much.
    Then Hannah took the white peach from her bag and held it out to Leah. The girl snatched it, sniffed it, and then began to take huge bites, letting the juice trickle down her chin.
    “From my garden,” said Hannah. “The first of the season.”
    They heard the sound of the door bolt being drawn back and Mustafa entered, flanked by two eunuchs in blue turbans.
    “They will not be necessary, Mustafa. Leah is tranquil, as you can see for