The Kadin - Bertrice Small [122]
“Dismissing him? You had his head lopped off—which was just a bit ungrateful, considering how well he ran the government while you were in Persia.”
“Perhaps, my sweet, but when I returned, the late vizier was loath to relinquish his power. I forgave him, but he continued to try to usurp my power. He had to be punished. Beheading him seemed the quickest solution. Now I discover this old man that I replaced him with is a doddering fool!”
“Ali Akbar has served the government well over the years. Retire him honorably, my lord. You have had five grand viziers since you took up the sword of Ayub. Four have been beheaded. This old man’s only fault is his many years. Do not overlook the many good services he has performed. Already the people speak openly in the streets of your harshness.”
“What do they say?”
“I will tell you only if you will grant me forgiveness beforehand.”
“It is granted.”
“A most popular curse these days among our people is ‘May you be vizier to Sultan Selim!’”
He grimaced. “I will retire Ali Akbar with honors, but whom shall I choose to replace rum?”
“Piri Pasha,” she answered.
“Not another old man! Never! Piri Pasha was in Constantinople when my grandfather, the conqueror, captured iL He has seen more than sixty winters.”
“Piri Pasha is no Ali Akbar. He is an administrative genius. He is a man without vices, has no delusions of power, and has always put his duty to the government above everything—even his personal life. You need him, especially since you plan to go to Egypt”
“Will you come with me?”
“No, my love. Not unless you command it On campaign you are a different person, not the Selim I know and love. My lord is the poet the father, the gentleman—not the stern sultan and fierce soldier. The soldier has little need of my softness. I can be of no use to you if I go with you to Egypt but here in Constantinople I am your eyes and ears. Who can tell you the truth as I do?”
He kissed her lightly. “And what will you do besides be my eyes and ears?”
“Why, see to the harem and the children. Nilufer will be thirteen come spring, and there are things I would teach her that her tutors cannot. My little Karim has not yet reached the age where he can do without his mother, though he grows more each day.”
“He is so like you, beloved. Of all my sons he is the least like a Turk, but we shall change that as he grows older. Has he not already accompanied his father on one campaign?”
“If he grows older,” she said softly.
Selim, however, did not hear her, for his mind had turned from Cyra to the second step in his plan to become the head of all Islam. He would shortly take his army out again, and this time his objectives would be the holy cities of Mecca and Medina; then on to Egypt and his “rescue” of the caliph. He would take Cyra’s advice and appoint Piri Pasha as grand vizier. Her instinct about people was always good. Free from worry on the home front he could concentrate on the campaign.
Knowing how secure he felt Cyra let him go without telling him about Hadji Bey.
The agha kislar was dying, and all the residents of the Eski Serai knew it, and wept There was no one in the harem from the humblest slave girl to the bas-kadin who did not love and honor this wise old man. Hadji Bey had served the House of Osman since the age of nine. He was now seventy-one years of age. He had lived through the reigns of Mohammed the Conqueror, Bajazet and Selim I, and had hoped to see Suleiman rule. Now he knew that Allah had not wished it so, and he sent for Cyra.
For the first time in all her years in Turkey, she entered the apartments of the grand eunuch. She was surprised to find them so simply furnished, for the agha’s taste in clothing had always been elegant if a trifle flamboyant.
The bedchamber was dimly lit and the curtains drawn. Hadji Bey lay on his couch. Unlike the average eunuch, he had never become fat and now his lean body seemed to have shrunk beneath the coverlets. An attendant set a stool by the agha.
Seating herself, Cyra told the slave, “Disturb us only in case of emergency.” The