The Kadin - Bertrice Small [36]
Bajazet lifted his hand and spoke. “Because of the love I bore my late bas-kadin, Kiusem, the ‘Peerless One,’ I have recalled our son, Selim, from Magnesia. His new duties will be to govern a nearby Crimean province, and in honor of his twenty-fifth birthday, I have given him leave to choose six maidens from among my gediklis. These are my gift to him. Those who are chosen will be his own forever. Let the virgins pass before my son.”
The ceremony began, and slowly, one by one, each girl paraded before the sultan and his son, her arms folded across her chest in the traditional pose. Some were aloof, some frightened, some giggled, and some smiled knowingly. The women of Bajazet’s harem had been culled from the four corners of the world and their reputation for beauty was well earned. As she stopped before the sultan, each was divested of her pelisse by a slave, who draped it again over her shoulders after her presentation.
Cyra watched all of this from a quiet corner of the hall Gazing at Prince Selim, she got her first good look at the man who would be her master. He was tall and slender, with his mother’s fair skin and light eyes. His hair, dark and slightly curling, was visible beneath his small white turban. His face, which was smooth-shaven, wore a grave look, but his lips occasionally twitched in a half smile of amusement at the carefully staged pageant going on before him. Next to him stood a slave holding a silver tray upon which rested six embroidered white silk handkerchiefs.
When Firousi, who was the third girl presented, stopped before the throne, Prince Selim motioned to the slave, who stepped from the dais and presented her with one of the silks. A murmur of approval hummed through the hall.
The second girl chosen was a Spaniard with warm olive skin, topaz-colored eyes, and tumbling chestnut hair. Her name was Sarina. She took her place at the foot of the dais, casting a sulky look at Firousi.
Selim’s third choice was a tiny maiden from the plains of India, Amara. Her dark-brown eyes lowered shyly as she was handed the silken square. A rosy blush suffused her creamy brown cheek as the prince smiled at her.
Zuleika was the fourth choice. The sultan motioned to Hadji Bey.
“I have not seen that girl before,” he said. “Nor that glorious silver-blond my son chose first.”
“They are new, my lord. You know the harem is constantly being restocked. This is the first time in several months you have had a reception and the opportunity to see all your maidens.”
More girls passed the dais, but two silk squares remained on the tray. Then Cyra appeared before the potentate and his son. Gracefully she glided to the foot of the throne, her proud head held high. The slave removed the pelisse. The sultan leaned forward, his tongue passing quickly over his sensuous lips. The chatter among the kadins ceased, their eyes narrowing at this potential rival.
For the fifth time Selim nodded at the tray-bearing slave, and a moment later Cyra pressed the silk to her forehead and to her lips as she took her place with the others.
“Another new girl, Hadji Bey?” inquired the sultan.
“Yes, my lord.”
“How long has she been in my harem?”
“Four months, my lord.”
“And why have I not seen her before?”
“She resisted us strongly, my lord. We could not properly train her until recently.”
“I see,” said Bajazet, a slightly petulant tone entering his voice. “So I must sit here and watch my son skim off the cream of my harem. Perhaps I have been too hasty.”
“Surely not hasty, my lord; but, rather, generous. Believe me, these girls are but semiprecious stones compared to the jewels I have hidden for you—maidens who are not here this night” He smiled knowingly at the sultan.
The sultan chuckled. “You have always looked after my interests, Hadji Bey.