The Kadin - Bertrice Small [164]
She could see that her words had stung him. Torn between his great pride at being the sultan and the pride of being her son, he pondered her words. She knew she would win. Like a flea, she had bitten at his most tender spot his ego, and only her removal would now salve his wound.
He patted the cushions by his side, and she sat down. “How can this scheme of yours be arranged?” he asked.
“Thank you, my son.” She caressed his cheek, but he turned away. Sighing, she spoke. “In a day or two, I shall become ill. I shall vomit my food and complain of pains. The doctor will come, and though he will find nothing wrong, my very position as valideh will force him to make a public diagnosis. I shall hover for several days between life and death. You, professing great concern, will visit me each evening.
“Finally I shall claim that the Angel of Death hovers near me and demand that my coffin be brought By this time the doctor will be diagnosing my imminent demise.
“On the evening of the eleventh day, I shall call for my family to be brought to me for a final farewell.” She stopped, then chuckled. “How I look forward to seeing Khurrem’s face! I shall be hard put not to laugh. That night I shall die. You must give orders beforehand for the coffin to be sealed. Only Marian and Ruth will attend me at the end. They will announce my death.
“Just before dawn, three old women in peasant black will depart the serai through a secret gate in my private park. No one will see them, but if anyone should, who would question their presence?”
“Three?” asked Suleiman.
“I am taking Marian and Ruth with me. Marian is English and has been with me since before you were born. Her husband was an Englishman and was secretary to your father for many years. You remember him. Their daughter, Ruth, has never seen her native land. I cannot leave them behind. To those who ask, merely say it was my dying wish that they be freed and returned to their own country.”
“How will you live, my mother? I cannot have you dependent upon your brother’s charity.”
“Secretly deposit with the House of Kira the sum of twenty-five thousand gold dinars. Each year add an additional five hundred. The money will be credited to my account in Edinburgh and administered by the Kiras. As for my jewels, aside from a few parting gifts, I shall take them with me. To any who ask, say you buried them with the valideh.”
He nodded. “You have thought this out carefully, my mother. You must really want to return to your native land.”
“Suleiman, I was born a Scot, and I shall die one. But I have lived my life as a Turk, and I do not regret one moment of it If Allah gave me the choice of reliving my time as I chose, I would choose the same path again.”
He leaned across the table and took her hands in his. Gray-green eyes met green-gold ones, and he would have spoken had she not forestalled him. “No, my lion. My mind is made up. When you come to my apartments again, say nothing of this. Khurrem has placed two spies among my servants. This evening I had them removed, but I shall not be so fortunate again.”
She rose and led him to the door. “Let this be our private farewell, my son. I have loved you from the moment you were conceived. All I have done has been for you. May Allah guard and guide you in the days and years to come. Always know my thoughts and prayers are with you.”
Her slender fingers reached up and touched his face. They moved lightly from his forehead, across his eyes and nose, and down his cheeks to his short, perfumed black beard. Then, pulling his head down, she kissed him gently on the forehead.
Two days later, the harem was mildly distressed to learn that their healthy valideh had taken ill. The doctor’s diagnosis was “a mild digestive ailment” The valideh would be well in a few days’ time. But when several days had passed and her condition