The Kadin - Bertrice Small [91]
“Now, listen to me, all of you,” spoke Captain Riza from the center of the main cave. “We are in mortal danger and will be safe only if you remain silent You may speak softly now, but when I give the signal, there is to be complete silence. Only those in charge may speak then, and if I hear one voice I should not I will rip the tongue from the offending one’s head Do you understand me?” His moustache bristled, and heads nodded
The torches cast a rosy glow on the sand-colored walls of the cave. The frightened group spoke in hushed whispers as the excitement of their escape and the horrible reality of their situation had its full impact on them. Each had the same thought—somewhere out in the night was a band of violent men intent on murder. They did not want to die—at least not now. And certainly not in this manner.
Prince Suleiman stood in a corner digging a spear into the ground His young face was strained and angry. He didn’t want to be penned in this rock fortress. He wanted to be outside avenging himself on those who wanted to attack him and his family. It had taken several sharp words from his mother to get him to enter the shelter; and despite the fact that Captain Riza had taken the time to explain the logic of the situation to him, his young heart seethed with anger. Suleiman took his position as Prince Selim’s eldest son and heir very seriously.
A hand fell on his shoulder. “I know, Suleiman, I want to be out there, too.” It was Mohammed, his favorite brother. The closeness of these two was amazing. Only four months separated them in age, and only four months distinguished between the heir and the second son. Yet never had the younger resented the older. “Hammed the Happy” was what the slaves called him, and he truly was. Where Suleiman was dark-haired, Mohammed was tawny. Suleiman’s gray-green eyes crackled with authority, but he was a somewhat shy young man. Mohammed’s dark-blue eyes sparkled with laughter, and all would have admitted that he was the extrovert of the family. An imperial Ottoman prince by birth, but somehow more touchable and nearer to the common man than the rest of his kin.
Selim’s children had grown up as no children of the Ottoman family ever had or ever would again. So strong was the bond of friendship among the prince’s four kadins, and so well had the first three kept the vow made that night in Candia eighteen years before, that nothing would ever separate them.
Suleiman was the heir. Never had anyone questioned it. The nine boys and four girls had grown from babyhood genuinely loving one another. They protected, fought, and teased each other as average children in any large family. They understood that they were princes and princesses of a great line, but they always acknowledged that Suleiman was the heir. In fact, they were proud of it One day their oldest brother would be sultan, and when he was, he would do away with the barbaric custom of killing off all other potential heirs. It simply never occurred to any of the brothers that they might do away with Suleiman and steal the throne for themselves.
Their insularity from Constantinople and their grandfather’s court had protected them, and they would retain this attitude as long as they lived.
“Captain”—the voice of the tower observer cut through the cave—“they’re coming!”
“Silence, all of you,” roared Captain Riza as he ran up the steps. Peering into the darkness, the captain saw the lighted palace and was then able to pick out the shadowy figures of men and horses about it. Selim’s four kadins joined him. They could hear the savage shouts of the men, their words carrying through the clear night air.
“There’s no one here! The palace is empty!”
“It can’t be! They must be hiding!”
“Look for a cellar beneath the palace. Search the grounds!”
“Captain, the farm animals are all gone!”
“Then burn the barns! Burn everything! We must find them. They cannot have gone far.”
“Maybe they were warned and fled by boat!”
“No, captain, the