The Kadin - Bertrice Small [96]
Selim stood to one side comforting the weeping Sarina, who after one look at her gardens had burst into tears. “There, my Sarina, do not spoil your beautiful topaz eyes with tears.” He bent and brushed some earth aside with his hand. “See? Green shoots. Your gardens will grow again.”
She sobbed harder. “Those are weeds! Will you never learn to tell the difference?”
Selim kissed the tip of her nose. “Good,” he chuckled. “Your tongue is still sharp! You will recover.”
“Oh, forgive me, my lord! Two days ago the blue hyacinths perfumed the air with their fragrance. The paper-white narcissus and the yellow daffodils danced in the breeze. In the greenhouse I had several pots of your favorite tulips that I was forcing to adorn your quarters when you returned. For seventeen years I have worked to make our gardens places of perfect beauty and tranquillity, and in one night it has all been destroyed—destroyed by that bitch, whose only accomplishments have been to produce an idiot son and create chaos and death in her wake!”
“Hush, love, you will distress the sultan. He is already much vexed by Besma’s evil.”
But Bajazet had heard the impetuous Sanaa’s words, and the resolution to deal harshly with his kadin, weakened by his relief at finding Selim’s family safe, renewed itself. The Spanish woman was right—Besma created chaos in her never-ending lust for power.
He stayed the night with his son and his family, but at the first hint of dawn he was up and on his way to Constantinople. He left with the promise to send workmen and materials to rebuild the Moonlight Serai His mind was clear, thanks to a pleasant night spent in the company of Lady Refet, and his heart was hardened with the resolve of what he must do.
When the sultan reentered his capital, he went directly to his palace. The agha kislar came at once to his quarters.
“Is all well?”
“I have failed you, my lord,” said the agha sadly. “Prince Ahmed fled the palace last night”
“How?”
“He had had an escape tunnel secretly constructed from his quarters to the outer wall. We did not know about it as his pretty boys did it and they are unbribable. My spy could not reach me until it was too late.”
“And Besma Kadin?”
“She awaits your pleasure, my lord”
“Have her brought to me, and I wish you to remain also. I do not blame you for the prince’s escape. I shall hunt him down myself. He cannot have been ignorant of his mother’s treachery.”
“My lord the family of Prince Selim?”
“All safe. I shall tell you afterward”
A lesser eunuch advised Besma Kadin of the sultan’s wish to see her. She made him wait while she put the finishing touches on her toilette, then followed him through the palace to the sultan’s quarters.
At fifty-seven she was still a handsome woman. A Syrian by birth, Besma had rich blue-black hair that was now silver, and her smooth olive skin was just beginning to wrinkle, but her black eyes were still sharp and lively.
She had dressed carefully in bright cerise trousers and a long-sleeved, slash-skirted dress of dark-blue silk. A large gold belt covered with sapphires and pearls girdled her hips. Over this she wore a heavy cerise satin sleeveless robe trimmed with ermine and embroidered with diamonds. Her hair was wound in a coronet of braids about her head and covered with a small pink gauze veil.
As she walked down the tiled corridors, she was calmly ready to accept her fate. By now, Bajazet would have learned of the demise of Selim’s family. He would be very angry and suspicious, but she had been very careful. There was nothing to connect her with the deed, since she had used hired mercenaries, who by now would be well on their way to Persia, No, there was no way—or no one who could accuse her of the deed. Even if the sultan did suspect her, he could prove nothing, but he would be greatly enraged and would probably punish her by exiling her from court
She laughed softly to herself. For years she had wanted to get away from him, and now she would. She would, of course, have her own palace,