The Kadin - Bertrice Small [75]
The twins giggled and, hiding their flowerlike faces behind their hands, peeked at him through their tiny fingers. Reaching his three kadins, he put the little girls down. “They grow more like their seductive mother every day.” Firousi blushed prettily.
The prince turned to his oldest son. “Suleiman, find your aunt Sarina and tell her I desire her presence. Then return to your studies.” The boy bowed to his father and hurried off, feeling self-important “Marian!” Cyra’s slave appeared magically. “Take the children inside and tell their tutors they are to stay there.”
The woman quickly complied. Selim was a good master, but he had been known to react harshly when not obeyed promptly.
Sarina joined the women, and, turning to them, Selim spoke.
“Word has just reached me that Besma has finally attained her first goal. My half-brother Ahmed has been returned to Constantinople, and the sultan has promised not to send him away again. He has been given a portion of the palace for his own court and twelve of father’s loveliest gediklis.”
“Twelve!” exclaimed Cyra.
“A small slap at me, my dove. As a younger son, I was honored by receiving six maidens, but as heir, Ahmed has received twice the number.”
“Allah help them,” murmured Zuleika.
“Yes, my flower of the Orient. They will need Allah’s help, but we have a more serious problem. Prince Ahmed will be arriving tomorrow night for a short visit while the workmen finish the renovation of his part of the Eski Serai.”
“What mischief is this?” demanded Cyra.
“Besma’s, I’ll wager. I believe she hopes to arouse my brother’s jealousy against me by showing him our way of life and my six fine sons—all of whom by law will supersede any sons Ahmed may sire.”
“What shall we do, my lord?”
“We shall do nothing, Cyra. We shall behave as we always do. Ahmed has been envious of me since I was a child. Once he took from me a toy my father had given me, even though he was well past the age for such things. He will be jealous of my women and my sons without their doing or saying a thing. Simply stay as much out of his way as possible. When you must be in his company, be cordial, no more.”
They nodded in agreement with him
“Will he be given the freedom of the palace, my lord?”
“Except the harem, Cyra.”
“Suleiman and Mohammed have their own quarters now, my lord. Might he not seek to harm them? His ways with small boys are well known.”
“It will be all right, my love. I have already instructed Arslan to guard your son and Firousi’s. The household guard will be extra vigilant during my brother’s stay.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You will have a great deal to do between now and tomorrow, my ladies. See that the household is prepared, and wear your loveliest costumes.”
Bowing, they left him musing in the late-afternoon sun.
“The pot begins to boil,” Selim muttered to himself. “With Allah’s help I’ll prove the better cook. Enjoy my hospitality while you can, my brother. We shall meet on the battlefield yet”
The following day the heir-apparent arrived at Selim’s palace. Outwardly the relationship between the two princes was cordial. Though Besma had poured a constant stream of poison about Selim into her son’s ear, Ahmed was not stupid. Selim had never exhibited any ambition or open hostility toward his older brother, and when Ahmed was away from his mother, he found he liked his younger brother. Selim, for his part, went out of his way to make Ahmed comfortable and secure.
On Ahmed’s first evening, the domed and colonnaded dining hall of the Moonlight Serai was brightly lit Brass braziers, their charcoal heat glowing bright red, took the chill off the late September night In a corner a group of musicians accompanied a lithe dancing girl who weaved and undulated across the marble floor. Seated on soft cushions at a low table, Prince Selim entertained his older half-brother. With them was Lady Refet for her years and her position afforded her this honor and respect.
The dancing girl finished her efforts, bowed, and ran from the room. Well-trained slaves removed the last dishes