The Kadin - Bertrice Small [127]
“It is from happiness,” murmured the bas-kadin.
“I know, my mother.”
They turned to the agha who, taking the princess’s right hand, placed it in Ibrahim’s right hand. Ibrahim then removed his bride’s veil and, giving her a kiss, whispered, “You certainly took your time growing up.”
“Isn’t it worth it?”
“We shall see,” said Ibrahim, leading her to their private dais.
“You are still a pig,” she replied, smiling happily up at him
“And you still have a spoiled-brat temper.”
“We shall be very happy,” said Nilufer.
“I think so,” grinned Ibrahim.
When the seven days of feasting and celebration were over, Ibrahim escorted his bride home to their palace. Selim’s good mood had vanished. A week of indulgence had wreaked havoc with his insides, and the pains in his belly, which could have been held at bay with medicines and a simple diet, returned three fold. He sent for Suleiman.
The prince’s mood was gay when he entered his father’s apartments, and unfortunately this merely increased Selim’s anger. Gesturing to his son to be seated, he got straight to business. “The reports I have received on you from Magnesia are bad.”
“Nonsense,” countered Suleiman. “Both the city and province are well run and prosperous.”
“Administered by Ibrahim, not you,” shot back the sultan. “You spend your time hunting and amusing yourself with Gulbehar. Considering the hours you spend with her, I should have at least one grandson by now. You have failed me.”
“How have I failed you? My province is in good order. What if that is more Ibrahim’s doing than mine? Have you not always told me to use to my best advantage the men around me? Ibrahim makes no decision that I have not personally passed on, and as for Gulbehar, it should please you to know she is with child.”
Selim sniffed. “You refused to come with me into Syria and Egypt If a Turk dismounts from a saddle to sit on a carpet he becomes nothing! Nothing!”
“Aha! Now we come to the real thorn that nettles you, my father. You are still angry because I refused to accompany you on your last campaign. How could I govern Magnesia and follow you at the same time?” (Secretly, Suleiman was remembering a message from his mother: “Do not go with your father into Egypt There is a plot to kill you and make Mohammed the heir.” Of course it had been Hammed, his favorite brother, who had been killed; and he had often wondered if there had really been a plot or if his wise mother was simply being clever again. He had never asked her.)
“Mohammed came with me, and yet he governed Erzurum,” said Selim
“Erzurum is the worst-run city in the empire, and do not speak to me of Hammed! If he had not followed you, he would be alive today, and I should not have lost my best friend!”
“Piri Pasha will infonn you if you are to return to Magnesia,” said Selim wearily.
“I a wait your orders, padishah.” He rose to leave.
“Suleiman!” The voice was sharp. “I have not given you permission to go. I want your opinion on a plan I have in mind. I am thinking about invading Rhodes. The Christians hold the fortress there, and it is too close to our borders. What do you think?”
“You are correct as always, father. If you want me, I’ll come with you.”
“No. I have kept you safe thus far. You have always been my choice as heir, Suleiman. If I lost you now, I would have to go on until one of your brothers grew up. I cannot fight my fate. I grow old with this disease, and weaken. Go, my son. Go back to Gulbehar. Did you know it was your mother who talked me out of that tasty morsel? Have I missed a great deal, my son?”
Suleiman smiled. “For me, Gulbehar is perfection, but for you, father, only my mother could be perfection. You have lost nothing, but you will gain a grandson in a few months’ time.”
The sultan looked at his eldest son for a long moment, then said, “You are not a great soldier yet,