The Kadin - Bertrice Small [113]
Word came that Shah Ismail had left the city of Ispahan, and with his army was coming out to meet the Turks. Selim was delighted, as it gave him the opportunity to choose the battleground. The decisive battle was set in the valley of Chaldiran, high in the mountains of eastern Anatolia.
At the western end of the valley, the Turks set up camp—row upon orderly row of little yellow tents for the soldiers, several large cook tents and hospital tents, and, at the camp’s center, the green-and-gold-striped pavilion of the sultan. Selim’s quarters actually comprised several tents set upon a carefully constructed, tiered platform. There was a small command tent where the sultan met and conferred with his captains. Another tent was used for cooking meals. A third housed the royal infants and their nurses, and a fourth, the sultan and his wives. This last was quite large and was divided into several rooms—a public reception salon, a private salon, and sleeping quarters for the sultan and his family. The furnishings were quite elegant and rich. Thick carpets covered the wood flooring. There were low, round tables of ebony banded with mother-of-pearl, and tables of highly polished copper inlaid with blue mosaic Fine brass lamps burned softly over the pure jeweled colors of the plump silk cushions. The sultan’s sleeping quarters were the most Spartan in the pavilion. His bedchamber contained a couch, a gilded leather trunk, a small writing desk, and a chair.
Cyra and Zuleika had each furnished her separate quarters luxuriously with sheer hangings, rich velvets, multicolored silks, and thick furs. Their sleeping couches were gilded wood, their lamps, which burned fragrant oils, were made of pure silver encrusted with precious gems. Opening off their rooms was an entrance leading outdoors and down a curtained way to a natural rock pool where they might bathe in privacy.
The pavilion was quite comfortable, considering the situation and the lack of slaves. Each night after he had dined with his sons and officers, the sultan would retire to the private salon and the comfort of his kadins. Sometimes the young princes would join them, and it would become a warm and familiar family evening.
On nights when the encampment lay quietly in sleep, Selim would come to Cyra’s room and slip beneath the soft white fur coverlet into the warmth of her arms. Zuleika, with her fierce desire for vengeance, was not a fit companion for her lord now. As always in times of crisis, the sultan turned to his bas-kadin. Her slim body comforted him, and he was able to forget for a time the empire, the coming battle, and the fierce pain in his belly. Often, after the delicious physical contact that so delighted them both, they would he facing each other and talk.
How the Ottoman officials would have gaped in amazement if they could have seen and heard their great lord speak to this mere woman of such varied matters as his future plans for conquest, a new variety of peach tree he had heard of that he must have for the orchards of the Eski Serai, the building he was planning to erect in the gardens of the Yeni Serai to house the treasures he was collecting, and the fate of his children.
Selim knew that whatever he said to Cyra remained with her and her alone. She was one of the few people he trusted completely. He knew that his interests were hers, and even after their many years together, her tact, wisdom, loyalty, and sense of justice—which he found equal to his—still pleased him.
The pain in his belly had eased to a dull steadiness that he was able to bear. Morning would come soon, and with it the battle that would be fought between him and the Shiite upstart, Shah Ismail. At sunset the previous evening he had seen a fiery sword in the sky pointing east His soldiers had become very excited, and the mullahs had cried that it