The Kadin - Bertrice Small [93]
Young Kasim patted his father’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, father. I sent my brothers by way of the beach, and it was not yet sunset when I left.”
“How many soldiers were at the palace?”
“About twenty-five. Captain Riza let some go home for the spring planting.”
“Damn!” shoulted Selim. “Where could they all hide?”
“They probably sought refuge in the Jinn’s Cave,” said Kasim calmly. “It would be the best place, and no one knew about it except us.”
The agha kislar arrived. “My son, what has happened? Your slave practically dragged me here.” His eyes fell on the boy. “Kasim! Where did you come from?”
Selim quickly told Hadji Bey the boy’s news. The agha’s face became grave. “When my lord Bajazet hears of this, heads will roll. I had no warning of Besma’s plans. She must have contracted directly with someone outside the palace. The sultan has often allowed her to go into the city, but usually she confides her plans to someone. Besma Kadin has overplayed her hand this time. Do not worry, my sons. I feel that your family is safe. I shall send word to my servant Talat to watch for one of our winged messengers. If they are safe, they will send word. Come! We must go at once to the sultan and tell him of this treachery. I shall have guards placed outside both Prince Ahmed’s and Besma’s quarters so they may not escape their punishment”
The two princes followed the ageless agha kislar through the corridors of the palace to the sultan.
Sultan Bajazet having been awakened by Selim’s messenger, was awaiting them. The sultan was sixty-three now. His hair and full beard had turned white, and his dark-brown eyes were kindly. He had always been a peace-loving monarch, his interests being more artistic than warlike, and he had done much to further Ottoman culture but little to advance Ottoman power. Nevertheless, he was a strong man. And despite the fact he had lost Cilicia to the Egyptian Mamelukes, and Cyprus to Venice, he was greatly beloved by his people. His reign was one of peace and prosperity. Recently having lost a minor war to Venice, he had rebuilt both his army and his navy, though his people, knowing his aversion to war, wondered why he bothered.
His visitors found him in a loose yellow silk sleeping robe, a small enameled cup of hot, sweet coffee in his hand. “Kasim,” he smiled happily at his grandson.
“Tell him,” Selim said coldly to his son. “Tell him how that she-devil who dares to call herself his kadin, not being satisfied at murdering my brother, has contrived to murder my wives and all his other grandchildren.”
The sultan paled as he looked from the stricken face of his grandson to the angry face of his son.
“It may not be that tragic, my dear lord,” said the agha, trying to soothe the sultan.
“No!” snapped Selim. “Perhaps some escaped like Kasim!”
The sultan recovered himself. “You make serious charges, my son, but you tell me nothing. What has happened?”
Young Kasim repeated his story.
Selim cut in. “Most of my own personal soldiers are here with me, my father. Of those left at my serai, Captain Riza allowed half to go home for the spring planting. My family and slaves were virtually undefended. The bitch planned this well!”
“They may have hidden in the Jinn’s Cave,” said Kasim, who understood the shock his grandfather was experiencing, and wished to ease it “No one could find them there.”
“But we do not know!” added Selim impatiently. The sultan, who had listened to all of this with mounting anger in his heart turned to the agha. “Have guards posted at the suites of Besma Kadin and Prince Ahmed. They are not to leave their quarters. They are to be told nothing!”
“I have