The Kadin - Bertrice Small [89]
Tying their horses, they slipped stealthily through the woods to within a few feet of the soldiers. There were at least a hundred of them mingling in a small clearing. They were garbed in black, with no identifying badges of service.
“How much longer must we wait here, captain?” asked one of the men impatiently.
“Until two hours after sunset” replied a large, evil-looking brute. “The moon won’t rise until after midnight, and by then the Moonlight Serai will be a smoldering ruin.”
“And its inhabitants?” asked the first man.
“The men can have the women, but kill them when they’re through. As for Prince Selim’s children and the slaves, kill them at once. Those are Besma Kadin’s orders. It must appear that Tartars have done this deed.”
The three young princes stared at one another in horror, then, regaining their senses, slipped back through the woods and quickly clambered up the hill to their horses.
“Abdullah, take Murad and warn the family. Go by way of the beach and, in Allah’s name, hurry! The sun is near to setting.” He mounted his own horse.
“But, Kasim,” quavered Abdullah, “where are you going?”
“To Constantinople. To tell father. If I ride all night, I can reach him by tomorrow morning. Go now!” Wheeling his horse, he galloped off.
Abdullah and Murad quickly scrambled onto their mounts and forcing them down a narrow cliffside path, gained the beach. The dying sun glowed red across the waters as the two boys pushed their animals to the limits of their endurance. They soon reached the Moonlight Serai. The horses stumbled up the path and raced across the gardens.
Cyra had been sitting in the dawn kiosk, enjoying the beautiful peace of early evening. Seeing the horses racing up the cliff path, she ran through her miniature glen to the palace, reaching it just as the boys did. “What on earth has possessed you two!” she shouted at the culprits. “First you run off from your tutors, and then you tear up the gardens with your horses. Allah help you both when your Aunt Sarina sees her tulip beds.”
“Captain Riza,” gasped Abdullah, sliding off his horse. “Get Captain Riza, Aunt Cyra! Hurry!”
Cyra saw the urgency and fear in the youngster’s face and immediately dispatched a slave. Within minutes, the captain of Selim’s palace guard appeared. Abdullah quickly told him what they had seen and heard. Cyra blanched, but the captain’s face darkened with rage and he exploded in a rash of oaths. “That mangy bitch,” he roared. “She’s waited years to attempt this piece of treachery!”
“Can we hold them off?” asked Cyra.
“Not a chance, my lady kadin. I have only twenty-five men here. I allowed twenty-five to go home for the spring planting, and the prince took the other hundred with him to the capital. You’ll have to flee, and Allah protect the slaves!”
“No! I will not leave those who have been loyal to us to suffer certain death. They must be protected.”
“Madam,” replied Captain Riza, shrugging helplessly, “the situation is hopeless. You must think of the children.”
“Mother,” piped little Murad, “why can’t we all hide in the Jinn’s Cave. Father fitted it for an emergency.”
“Of course!” cried Cyra. “It is the perfect answer! I have allowed fear to paralyze my wits. Besma’s assassins will never find us there!”
Captain Riza looked puzzled. “The Jinn’s Cave?”
“Yes, good captain. A large group of caves beneath the cliffs on the beach. Selim thinks it was used by pirates many years ago. It is hidden by brush, and its entrance is blocked by a bidden door. Once inside, that door can be set so that even if an intruder unknowingly touches the control, it cannot be opened from the outside.