The Kadin - Bertrice Small [149]
Suleiman now had time to spend with Gulbehar and their son. Of late, Cyra had noticed his eyes were more for little Mustafa than for his kadin. With delight she realized that the time had come when her son might be tempted by a female other than the soft and foolish Gulbehar. Khurrem began to be seen more in the valideh’s company.
Then one day, while visiting his mother, Suleiman laughed so hard at an amusing song sung by the petite Russian that tears rolled down his cheeks. At a barely perceptible sign from the valideh, the girl handed her lord an embroidered silk handerchief so that he might wipe his eyes. Afterward, he noticed the lovely design on the cloth, and Cyra said, “Khurrem made it She is wondrously clever with her needle.”
“You will make all my handkerchiefs from now on, Khurrem,” said Suleiman graciously.
Cyra was delighted. Her protégé had been noticed. A small compliment true—but recognition, nevertheless. In the next few weeks Khurrem could be seen among the maidens who sometimes accompanied the sultan on his walks through the palace grounds. The valideh warned the girl, “Be modest at all times. Your beauty cannot fail to speak for you. I know my son. Already he is intrigued by you. If you are clever, he will want to know more.”
Then came an evening when Suleiman, feeling moody, asked that Khurrem be sent to sing her merry songs to him. She remained in the sultan’s quarters for almost three hours, and those who attended the sultan whispered it was more than the girl’s singing that attracted him. There was now no doubt—Khurrem was “in the eye” of the sultan.
She was immediately elevated to the rank of guzdeh and given a small apartment of her own, consisting of a small anteroom and a bedchamber. A personal slave was assigned to care for her needs.
Cyra was jubilant, but Marian warned, “Beware, my dearest lady. That little cat has long, sharp claws.”
Cyra paid little heed to her old slave’s words, but instead began to plan for the night when Khurrem would be called to her lord’s couch. It could not be for at least several weeks, she knew. It would be bad manners for the sultan to appear overeager, and then, too, the court astrologer had to be consulted.
Remembering her own happy bridal night, the valideh decided that Suleiman’s and Khurrem’s would be as happy as hers and Selim’s had been. Determined that Khurrem should be the first to replace Gulbehar in her son’s affections, she spared no effort
Each day the Russian guzdeh was bathed in rosewater and massaged with precious oils distilled from wild flowers. Her hands and feet were creamed until they were soft and whiter than white. There was not a square centimeter of Khurrem’s skin that did not make silk seem rough in comparison.
Her diet was carefully supervised by the valideh herself. The new guzdeh must walk in Cyra Hafise’s private park two hours each day to keep her young muscles firm and supple.
The weeks went by, and then one afternoon Khurrem burst into the valideh’s apartment waving a yellow silk handkerchief and crying, “It has come, madam! The summons has come! I am called to my lord’s couch Friday—tomorrow night!”
It was a bad moment Gulbehar had chosen that same afternoon to visit with her mother-in-law. The young bas-kadin was furious and hysterical by turns.
“I hate her! I hope she dies in childbirth!”
“But why? You do not even know her,” replied the valideh.
“I do not trust her.”
“Nonsense!” snapped Cyra. “You are jealous. It is that simple, and I will not stand for it! On Friday after noonday prayers, you will, as your position demands, escort Khurrem to the bridal bath,”
Gulbehar raised her tear-stained face to Cyra. “You have been