The Kadin - Bertrice Small [137]
The following morning, Selim made it a point to greet both Sarina and Firousi publicly, and with a great show of affection. Later in the day, slaves were seen entering the golden court laden with gifts. The sultan was wise enough not to go off on a military campaign leaving the status of his two lesser wives in doubt He wanted no problems in his household.
Cyra spent a frantic day. Her apartment must be cleaner than clean. The gold, silver, copper, and brass accessories and ornaments must shine, the tile floors sparkle. Refreshments needed to be selected—small, hot pastries filled with lamb and kasha, glazed honey cakes, apricot sherbet and sweet hot coffee—all Selim’s favorites.
Speaking to the various oda mistresses, Cyra selected four of the most beautiful and talented musicians the harem had to offer to soothe and entertain her lord with their melodies.
Then off to her bath to be scrubbed plucked, massaged, and perfumed An hour’s nap to refresh her, and having been dressed in the sultan’s favorite peacock-blue, she was ready to greet Selim.
Their evening began pleasantly enough. The musicians played well and pleased the sultan. The light late supper was enjoyable to him. Finally, the slaves dismissed the lamps trimmed to burn low, Selim and Cyra retired to her bedchamber, where he attempted to claim his conjugal rights. He failed and promptly became angry.
Cyra, who had been expecting this problem, threw herself into his arms, sobbing piteously, “Alas! I have grown too old to please you, my dearest Selim. Would that Allah had struck me down before I lived to see this day. Forgive me, my lord! Forgive me for the sake of the five children I have borne you!”
Selim knew she lied. Her beauty and body, even at forty years of age, would have aroused a marble statue. But her performance and her attempt to save his ego and take the entire blame pleased him and helped to restore his sense of proportion.
“I forgive you, you exquisite liar,” he growled.
She looked up at him, her green eyes clear and tearless.
“Don’t you even have the decency to shed a real tear or two?” he grumbled.
She twinkled at him, “My love, I could not be so hypocritical.” Then, sensing the worst was over, she spoke again. “If I may presume on our twenty-seven years together, my lord?” He nodded. “It is this illness that has rendered you feeble. When you are well again, there will will be no problem. How can I accuse you—or how can you accuse me—when we have spent so many nights together in an ecstasy of love, a love that has borne the precious fruit of five children? We are no longer youth and maiden, and though I look forward to the night that you return to me well and strong as of old, can we not this night—the night before you leave us again—simply enjoy the warmth of just being together?”
In reply, he held her hard against his chest “Now I know why I chose you first those long years ago. You and only you have always had the talent to put me at my ease, and the wisdom to speak honestly to me. Praise Allah that He saw fit to present me with such a treasure as you, my beloved Cyra.”
Raising her up, he gently kissed her sweet lips and settled into her arms. For some time, their voices whispered silkenly through the room as they talked together as had always been their habit Then he fell asleep against her breasts.
In the darkness of the chamber, she heard his even breathing, and, knowing he finally slept Cyra allowed herself the privilege of tears. Silently they ran down her cheeks. She wept neither for him nor for herself, but because she knew instinctively that this would be the last night they would ever spend together. Tomorrow he would leave for Rhodes, and she felt that he would not return. The Celt in her knew that he would soon die.
Where had all the years gone? Was it not only yesterday that she had come to him a cool but frightened virgin? She could see his even white teeth flashing against his sun-bronzed skin as she first tasted the pleasures of womanhood, his relief and delight at the birth of Suleiman and all the