The Kadin - Bertrice Small [146]
“I am told I embroider well” She drew a small square of silk from her bodice and gave it to the valideh. The little cloth was covered with pretty fruits and flowers, cleverly done animals, and castles.
Cyra nodded “I shall put you in the care of the keeper of the linen. You have much to learn, but if you trust me, you may well rise to a high position in your world You must be discreet and never draw attention to yourself. Obey the eunuchs and the women in charge. We shall find your talents and develop them until there is no girl in the harem who is as accomplished as you. Then possibly you may attract the sultan. Do you sing?”
“A bit.”
“A bit, my lady. Your manners are bad! However, you are not, I can see, a stupid girl, Roxelana. You will learn quickly, I am sure.”
‘To gain all that you promise, my lady, I will study hard!”
“I promise you nothing, child. I have said only that with work it is within the realm of the possible. Obey me, and at the proper time you will be brought to my son’s attention. If we move too soon and you displease him, there is no second chance. Do you understand me?”
The girl nodded.
“Good! Now, the first improvement we shall make is your name. Roxelana. Russalanie. It is not Turkish. From this moment on, you will answer to the name Khurrem. I have on several occasions watched you at my daughter’s home. You laugh easily and are cheerful and merry. Khurrem means the ‘Laughing One.’”
Khurrem smiled happily. “Thank you, my lady. I like it!”
Cyra leaned forward and peered through the curtains of the palanquin. They were approaching the palace. “One last thing,” she said. “I will show you no obvious mark of favor in the serai, but that does not mean I am not watching and encouraging you. Now sit back and be silent We are almost home.”
The bearers trotted their burden through the gates of the Eski Serai and went directly to the Garden Court. Once inside her apartments, Cyra sent for the keeper of the linen, a motherly woman in her early fifties. Rising as the lady entered, she held out her hands in greeting. “Ah, Cervi! How good it is to see you. I wanted to tell you how exquisite the undergarments your girls did for me were, but alas, I am so busy!” Opening a casket by her side, she paused for a moment and then casually lifted out a rope of creamy pearls with the faintest hint of pink in them and slipped them over the woman’s neck. “A small token. Sit down, and Ruth will bring us some coffee.”
The keeper of the linen, flustered and delighted at the same time, settled herself while happily fingering the pearls. Coffee was brought, and, pouring, the valideh handed her a tiny enameled cup. For a while they chatted idly, then Cyra asked, “How many girls are in your oda, Cervi?”
“Five, madam. Most of the maidens are not clever enough with a needle to suit me. Perhaps I am over-critical, though,” she apologized.
Cyra handed her the silken square that Khurrem had embroidered. “What do you think of this work?”
Cervi took the cloth and examined it carefully. “It is very good, madam. Very good indeed.”
Cyra called to Marian, “Send the slave Khurrem to me.” She turned back to Cervi. “If you feel the work is truly good, you may have this girl in your oda. There could possibly be bigger things in store for her, and you would certainly profit by having an oda that produced a favorite.”
Cervi nodded in agreement as the girl entered, bowed to her and the valideh, and stood quietly, her eyes lowered modestly, her hands folded.
“Ah,” smiled Cyra. “This is Khurrem. She is one of the Tartar captives brought in as tribute last year. She has been doing simple sewing at my daughter’s home, but when I saw how clever her embroidery was, I brought her back. Though she is clever with her needle, she is incredibly ignorant in all other ways. I think under your care she may become an accomplished maiden.”
Cervi knew she had no real choice. At least the girl was clever with her needle, and as the valideh had pointed out, there were distinct