The Kadin - Bertrice Small [160]
“Your pet is most charming,” chuckled Cyra, “but alas, my grandson, his table manners are terrible. Please remove him from my dining table, and I shall see that he is fed.”
Jahangir reached for his monkey, but the nimble little imp scrambled to the other side, where he stuffed a handful of pilaf into his mouth and promptly fell dead. The prince began to sob. “My monkey is dead! My monkey is dead!”
“No, he is not” replied the valideh firmly. “He is merely ill from overeating. Leave him with me, and I shall make him well again. Return with your nurse to your own quarters, and I shall bring you your monkey this afternoon.”
Jahangir’s dark eyes widened. ‘Truly, grandmother? You can really heal my monkey?”
“Yes, my child. Now go along like a good boy.”
The little prince dutifully trotted out after his nurse. Cyra turned to her chief eunuch. “Dispose of the monkey as you did the white eunuch. Then go to the marketplace and find me an identical monkey. The rest of you will keep silent about this matter.”
Fate had decided for her. She now knew what she must do, but first she would see her little brother. She laughed softly, remembering Adam as a child. But Allah! He would be forty-eight years of age now! What did he look like? she wondered. Why did he seek her after all these years? Tomorrow would answer all her questions.
39
UNLIKE THEIR COUNTERPARTS in Western Europe, the Jews of Constantinople were respected and equal members of the Ottoman community. The Kira family, though they could have afforded to live in a palace along the sea, preferred to remain in the old quarter where their ancestors had lived as far back as the Byzantine Empire.
When the sultan valideh Hafise arrived in her palanquin early in the afternoon, there was only a mild stirring among the neighbors. After all, was not Esther Kira a dear friend of the sultan’s mother? And hadn’t she visited the Kiras before? Cyra appreciated their sensible attitude. The one thing she had never really gotten used to in all her years in Turkey was the sumptuous pomp of this nation, and Suleiman was carrying the pomp to greater heights because of his love of a good show.
From the outside, the Kira house, though slightly larger, was like any other in the quarter. It was built of a light-colored brick, and the side facing the street was windowless, the only opening a large, brass-studded double door with a small iron grille on one side.
The closed palanquin was expected, and it was quickly waved through. The valideh stepped out and stood for a moment to accept the ceremonial greeting from the patriarch of the family. Then she was escorted into the women’s quarters of the house. Esther had taken every precaution. The area was deserted, the rest of the women in the house having gone to the public baths for an afternoon of happy gossiping.
“Go into my private salon, dear madam, I shall bring Lord Leslie to you, and then stand guard outside the door while you talk.”
Cyra thanked her and entered the room. Her heart was beating wildly. What in Allah’s name would she say to him? She had lain awake all last night planning the words, but suddenly they had all fled. She heard a step behind her. The door opened and closed. A deep, familiar voice spoke.
“Madam, I am Adam Leslie, earl of Glenkirk.” The language he used was French. Esther’s doing, she imagined.
Her back was to him, and she did not dare to turn and face him as yet She replied in French, “I am well aware of your identity, Lord Leslie, and have been somewhat informed of your circumstances by my good friend Esther Kira. I do not understand why it is you should seek an audience with me. However, I am an old woman, and undue curiosity is a prerogative of old age.”
“Thank you,” said Lord Leslie. “I shall try not to take a great deal of your time, my lady. I have been given