The Kadin - Bertrice Small [134]
“I will not forget mother.” He threw his arms about her. “Even if some of the boys at school brag about their puny families, I shall remain silent.”
“Good,” smiled his mother, “but fear not my son. You will not be entirely alone. Take this ring. My brother, Adam, gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. See the inscription inside? You speak my native tongue, Karim. Read it to me.”
Karim took the ring and read: “To my own dear sister, Janet from her brother, Adam.”
“Wear the ring always. Never part with it Show it to the abbot at Glenkirk Abbey—though one look at you, and he cannot fail to know you are a Leslie, He will, when he deems it wise, introduce you to your uncle Adam, and to your grandfather, if he still lives.”
Karim, his Ottoman and Highland blood now stirring with excitement at the thought of his dangerous impending adventure, announced, “I shall have to be disguised to leave the city, mother.”
“So you will,” she laughed, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking. “This will be dyed black, and your skin will be darkened to a nut-brown.”
“Will I look like a Moor?”
“I hope not but probably you will When you arrive in Scotland, Joseph will see that your hair and skin are restored to their normal colors. Now”—she spoke in his own tongue—“what is your name, boy?”
“Charles Leslie,” he answered in the same language.
“Where do you come from?”
“A land far to the east”
“What is its name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You must be a very stupid boy not to know the name of your native land.”
“I am not stupid. I fell from my horse on my way to Constantinople and injured my head. My memory is gone. I can remember only my name and that my country is in the East”
“Well done, my darling! Never, never change your story! Should your father and brother find out what I have done, I should be killed in a most terrible manner. My life is in your hands, Karim, as well as the lives of many others. It is a great responsibility to place on one so young, but then you are of the House of Osman and the House of Leslie. Both are breeders of brave men.”
The little boy gazed up at his beautiful mother. “I will never betray you, mother. Never!”
She gathered him into her arms, holding him close, savoring the incredible sweetness of him and feeling her own heart break. My youngest and dearest child, she thought I simply cannot let him go. I cannot! He is so little. What will become of him without his mother? There must be another way!
Then she saw Marian, her Ups set sternly, her brown eyes speaking the terrible truth of the matter. Her own green eyes closed, and, burying her face in her son’s soft neck, she saw the mute executioners, their black bodies oiled and glistening obscenely in the torchlight the bowstrings swinging evily in their strong hands.
Shuddering, she released Karim and, looking down at him, said, “You must not leave this room, my child, lest someone see you. Nor may you go near the windows. Ruth has brought some of your toys and will play with you.”
A day and a night passed. Late in the afternoon of the second day, Cyra went to the gate of the Tue Court and requested that Esther Kira and her famous herbs be sent for at once.
“She may enter in safety. Jews are known not to catch the plague. May Allah grant that her herbs work.”
“My lady, may I ask how the little prince fares?”
“I am afraid, good eunuch,” she replied softly.
By evening, when Esther Kira, with a wicker basket some three and a half feet in length strapped to her back, arrived at the Tile Court, the word was all over the serai that Prince Karim was dying.
“I knew I could trust that fat slug to chatter,” chuckled Cyra.
The night deepened, and as the moon set, the final touches were put on the little prince’s disguise. Dressed in simple but costly garments, he stood before his mother for a final inspection. “He does not look like the same boy,” she approved.
The others nodded. Suddenly Karim flung himself into his mother’s arms. “I don