Chapter
11
“
G
ood morning, my lord. It is time for you to arise. I have brought the morning meal,” Baba Hassan said, his smooth brown face impassive.
Caynan Reis rolled onto his back, and his blue eyes opened lazily. “Thank you, Baba Hassan,” he said. “Must we get up now?” Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over, and kissed India awake.
“It is the general audience today, my lord,” the chief eunuch reminded his master. “I could, of course, say you were ill, but that would cause consternation, I fear. Shall I escort you to the bath?”
“That is my task, Baba Hassan,” India said, sitting up, and totally unabashed by her complete nudity.
“Your duties have changed, my precious,” the dey told her with a smile, and then he kissed the tip of her nose.
“But I enjoy bathing you, my lord Caynan,” she told him.
“So be it,” he answered, and together they arose from their bed, walking hand in hand from the chamber toward the dey’s bath.
A broad smile split the chief eunuch’s face. This was very good. They were caught in the throes of love. Then his smile faded as quickly as it had come. But would India cooperate with them to aid the dey in avoiding treason? The English were very independent, but then they were loyal to their monarch, too. Still, the girl was no fool. But if they explained everything carefully to her, she could not fail to see the wisdom in their plan of action and convince the dey of it as well. He hurried off to the harem to speak with Azura.
His associate, however, had her hands full, and when he entered the fountain court of the haremlik. he was immediately surrounded by the dey’s women, all chattering at him at once.
“Be silent!”
he thundered at them, and they stepped back, momentarily frightened.
“You see what I must put up with,” Azura murmured.
“What has happened to the dey,” the dark-haired Samara boldly demanded.
“Oh, Baba Hassan! Please tell us if our master is all right?” the beautiful blond Mirmah pleaded, her blue eyes teary.
“The dey is in excellent health and spirits this morning, ladies,” the chief eunuch reassured them.
“But he did not send for one of us last night,” the flame-haired Sarai exclaimed. “He always has one of us to warm his bed.”
“He was not alone,” Baba Hassan replied.
“The English girl?”
Samara spoke the words with loathing.
“Oh, not the English girl,” blond Deva half whispered. “She is so beautiful.”
“I will scratch her eyes out!” Samara snarled.
“Attempt it, and you will find yourself in the open slave market within the hour,” Azura replied sternly. “How spoiled you have all become! Your duty is to please our master, and if India gives him pleasure, then you should be glad for him. I will not tolerate jealousy in this harem, and neither will Caynan Reis. Resign yourselves to what was meant to be. Or would you prefer to provide entertainment for the janissaries?” She turned away from them, saying, “Come, Baba Hassan, we have business to discuss.” Leading him to her own quarters, she asked, “Have you eaten yet? Come, and sit with me. Where is the dey?”
“I awoke them myself,” the chief eunuch said. “I brought the morning meal, but India insisted on bathing her lord herself as she has been doing these past several months. Last night I told you that he loved her, but this morning I tell you that she loves him as well. This is just as we hoped, but now, my dear Azura, we must make certain that India follows
our
plan else we all find ourselves in jeopardy from the irrational and foolish behavior of the janissaries.”
“I will go to the dey myself, and see what plans he has for India,” Azura said. “I am certain that now he will no longer expect her to serve him as a body slave. I shall bring a beautiful kaftan for her to wear today. If she is to become his favorite, then she must have her own apartment, and everything that goes with such an honor. We have been friends since her arrival. Now I shall build upon that friendship. She is an intelligent girl, and can be brought to see reason. If she loves him as you believe, Baba Hassan, she will want to protect him from all harm. Melon?” She offered him a plate, and together they ate their morning meal, all the while planning how to protect the dey and El Sinut from chaos. When they had finished, Azura went to the main wardrobe for the harem and chose an exquisite turquoise-blue silk kaftan, embroidered with gold thread butterflies and creamy pearls, as well as several pale gold veils for India’s head, and to shield her beautiful face should she go from the harem today.
Hurrying through the palace, Azura entered the dey’s apartments, greeting her lord with a smile and displaying the finery. “I thought, perhaps, my lord, that you would want India garbed somewhat differently today. I have brought these garments for your approval.”
“What think you, my precious?” Caynan Reis asked India.
“They are lovely, my lord. If it pleases you, I will wear them, but please let me come with you to the general audience. I love watching you judge and settle disputes. I will be happy to ply my fan today that you not become overheated.”
“Nay, you will sit by my throne,” he said. “Someone else will ply the fan. Now go and put on your new clothing for me while I speak with Azura,” the dey commanded her, and India, taking the garments from the older woman, hurried into the bedchamber. “I want you and Baba Hassan in the audience chamber today, as well as the ladies of the harem. Seat them behind a carved screen so they may see, but not be seen,” he told her.
“Is this a special occasion I have somehow overlooked?” Azura asked.
He laughed, and the sound was so happy and carefree that she was surprised, for she had never heard him make such a noise in all the years they had known each other. “I am going to marry her,” the dey said. “Do not feign amazement, you lovely creature,” he teased Azura. “You and Baba Hassan have dangled her before me since the day she arrived. You wanted this to happen, and while I believed you both mad, it would seem you know me better than I know myself.”
“It is a man’s nature to want love, and be loved in return, my lord,” Azura answered him diffidently.
“Hah!” he chuckled. “You plotted the entire matter.”
“My lord.” India had come forth from the bedchamber.
Caynan Reis’s deep blue eyes widened with approval. “Allah!” he exclaimed. “How exquisite you are, my precious love.”
“Then you are pleased?” She smiled happily, then turned to Azura. “Thank you, my lady, for making such a fine choice.”
Azura nodded in reply, and then said to the dey, “You will, of course, want the lady India to have her own apartment, my lord?”
“Aye. Have the empty rooms next to mine prepared for her,” he instructed the mistress of the harem.
“But, my lord, those rooms are not within the harem,” Azura reminded him, a trifle amazed by his instructions.
“The harem is for my concubines,” he answered her. “The rooms near me are for my wife. I do not want my bride far from my side. While India will rule my house, and bear my children, you, my dear Azura, will continue to be the mistress of the harem. This is my wish.”
“Yes, my lord,” the older woman answered him. Allah! He
really
was in love with her. She bowed politely, and backed from the dey’s apartments, hurrying to find Baba Hassan so she might tell him of all that had transpired and prepare the harem for their outing. She did not, however, tell her charges of the dey’s decision to marry. That must be his little surprise. The concubines would, of course, be distressed by the news, but she would reassure them that their place within the dey’s household was a secure one. He would not, for the time being, want their company as frequently as he had in the past, but they would come to accept the new arrangement. Any who caused difficulties would be sold away, and replaced.
While Azura was content that Caynan Reis take a wife and have children, the beautiful India must not be allowed to have such influence over her husband that he perhaps ignore his faithful servants. Eventually there must be a second wife, or at least a favored concubine to engage the dey’s interest. India, however, could be the only woman allowed to give the dey sons lest El Sinut be subjected to the same sort of internecine warfare afflicting the Sublime Porte, where the sultan’s women warred with each other, ambitious for their sons. It was just this sort of thing that had weakened the empire, leaving it vulnerable to factions like the greedy, power-hungry janissaries, who were even now plotting treason. For now, though, India would serve their purpose while making Caynan Reis the happiest of men, the mistress of the harem concluded.
“Come, ladies,” she said, reentering the harem. “You are to dress in your finest garments, and be allowed to sit in the audience hall today, and watch our master in judgment over his subjects.”
With cries of pleasure the harem women rushed to find the most flattering clothing that they could; rummaging through their jewel boxes; calling to their personal slaves for their cosmetics and perfumes. Azura oversaw it all, a secret smile upon her beautiful face, watching as Samara chose flame-colored garments, the equally dark-haired Leah, a deep rose. Red-haired Sarai was resplendent in green and gold, and the four blondes exaggerated their delicate coloring in the palest of pastels: pink, sky blue, peach, and apple green. And when the seven women were dressed with matching veils covering their bejeweled hair and their pretty faces, Azura escorted them from the harem to the audience hall.
Before them the chief eunuch went, clearing a path through the waiting populace, all of whom were fascinated to be given even the slightest glimpse of the dey’s harem women as they hurried through the corridor, heads bowed, eyes lowered, and heavily veiled. Baba Hassan led the women into the vaulted chamber with its green-and white mottled pillars, and settled them behind a carved wooden screen facing the dey’s throne, and set to one side. There, small chairs had been arranged in such a manner that each woman could gain a good view of the proceedings no matter where she was seated.
Samara silently counted the seats. There were but eight. Just enough for the harem, and the lady Azura. She smiled, well pleased. “Obviously the English girl does not merit the privileges we have been given,” she announced smugly to her companions. “She cannot have pleased him.”
“Remember,” Deva remarked archly, “that she is merely his body slave.”
“Exactly!” Samara crowed. “Her status remains lowly while ours is a favored one.”
“I think she did please him,” the blond Laylu replied.
“Look!”
Azura bit her lip so as not to laugh as the seven pairs of eyes turned toward the dais, where even now Caynan Reis was standing. By his side stood India, her metallic gold veils glittering splendidly in the morning light as the hall grew silent with expectation. The girl’s head was lowered just enough to be modest without being servile.
The dey spoke. “Today I bring you good news,” he began. “I am the happiest of men, for I have decided to take a wife. I shall ask the chief iman to marry me to this woman before the sun has set this day.” He took India’s hand, leading her forward, saying, “Behold, she who has brought me the greatest joy I have ever known.”
Then, to Azura’s surprise, India knelt before the dey, kissing the hem of his bejeweled coat and finally flattening herself at his feet. The hall erupted into cheers even as Caynan Reis raised the girl up, his arm about her protectively. Then he brought her to a small satin stool set on his right hand, and seated her before taking his own throne. Baba Hassan looked toward the carved screen, and Azura knew the look was for her alone. It plainly said what Azura had known all along. India was strong of character. Indeed, she had played this hand beautifully, giving the dey the public respect he must have as the sultan’s governor, while cleverly endearing herself to him further. It was obvious that the girl had decided where her fate lay.
“Well, well,” Sarai said softly. “I should have never thought resistance was the way to our lord’s heart.” She shrugged fatalistically.
“Do not despair,” Nila murmured. “One wife is always followed by a second. We will have our chance when our lord grows tired of the English girl’s waspishness.”
“That performance she just put on hardly smacks of pettishness,” Samara observed, wiser than the others. “She is clever. Far cleverer than I would have given her credit for, the little bitch!”
“Let us give her a chance,” Mirmah said to them, and Leah nodded in agreement. “We do not really know her. Now she will come to live in the harem with us, and it is possible we may become friends. After all, she is to be the master’s first wife, and the first wife always has the most influence.”
“Not always,”
Samara replied.
Azura held her peace, signaling them to silence now that the audiences had begun. They would find out soon enough that India was not to be housed in the harem with them, which would, of course, cause further jealousy. Samara was an obvious troublemaker, and she would also have to watch Nila and Sarai. Mirmah, however, had possibilities that Azura had never before observed. She would mention them to Baba Hassan, and they would keep Mirmah in mind for a possible second wife. She could prove to be the perfect counterbalance to the strong-willed India. Mirmah was a Circassian, bred for the harem and taught to please a master in a variety of ways.