The Aviary Gate (24 page)

‘Handan?'

‘Surely you have heard of Handan?'

‘No, Haseki Sultan.'

‘She was the Sultan's chief concubine before me. He has other bedfellows, of course, but she was more than that to him: she was his companion. As I am. The Sultan – the Padishah—' she stopped, and searched the horizon again, as if it were an effort for her to speak of these things, ‘he is a lonely man sometimes. You must remember that.'

‘What happened to her? To Handan.'

‘She has a son, Prince Ahmet, who still lives in the palace with the other princes, but Handan herself, well, no one sees her now, she who was once raised so high above us all.' Gulay looked sadly out to sea. ‘They say she stays in her room. That she has lost the will to live.'

‘But why?'

Gulay turned to Celia again, and for a moment her expression changed into something more. ‘What's your name,
kadin?
'

‘My name is Kaya.'

‘No, no, dear lady, I know that of course! I mean your real name, the name you had before you came here.'

‘It was – it is – Celia.'

‘Well then, Celia,' the Haseki took Celia's hand between her own, ‘I am forgetting that you have not been here as long as most of us have. The Valide hates Handan because she became too powerful. Not only was she the Sultan's favourite, but she had given birth to a son. A son who might be – who still could be – the next sultan.' She stroked Celia's hand softly. ‘As both the mother of a son and a favourite, her stipend became very great, second only to that of the Valide herself. The Sultan also gave her many gifts – jewels and gold. Soon she began to notice the power these things gave her. Handan had grown powerful, but not wise.

‘With her considerable wealth she could now afford to give many gifts, but she grew careless about who saw her do it. Many women in the harem, even senior ones loyal to the Valide, began to court her. If the Sultan were to name Handan's son as his successor, you could see them thinking, then she would be the next Valide. And you could see Handan thinking the same thing too. Gradually a palace faction grew up about her, everyone felt it.' As if the subject still made her nervous, Gulay glanced over her shoulder, towards the palace. ‘You don't need me to tell you what it can be like here. It became a very dangerous situation.'

‘For Safiye Sultan?'

‘For the Valide?' The Haseki laughed, squeezing Celia's hand. The little golden discs sewn into her cap made a glassy sound in the breeze. ‘No, dear lady. Not for the Valide, for Handan of course. Safiye Sultan doesn't mind who sleeps in her son's bed, but she'll never give up her power, not ever. When she was Haseki, in the days of the old Sultan, they say she fought tooth and nail with the Valide Nurbanu. But it's the Valide who always holds the trump cards,' she lowered her eyes, ‘so they say.'

There was a pause, and then Celia said, ‘But you have a son, too, Haseki Sultan.'

‘Yes, I do. He has an equal claim to be the next sultan. And I must do everything I can to protect him. You see, I saw what they did to Handan …' She bent forwards until her lips were just inches away from Celia's own. Celia could smell her skin and hair, perfumed with jasmine and myrrh. ‘Remember this,
kadin
: to be the Haseki is no protection from
them
.'

‘What do you mean, them?' Celia put her hand to her stomach; the familiar pain had returned in her side, just below her ribs.

‘The Valide has spies everywhere, both in and outside the palace, even in the most unexpected places. She has spent a whole lifetime accumulating them. A web – a web of loyalties, of people who will do her business for her. Like that old jewess, her
kira
—'

‘You mean Esperanza Malchi?'

‘That's right: Malchi. You know her?'

‘She came to my room only this morning.' Celia shifted nervously on the cushions. ‘I don't think she realised I was there.'

Should she confide to the Haseki what had happened? Surely she was the last person in the harem who would ever help her, and yet she seemed so earnest, so vulnerable. Surely she could trust her?

In the end it was Gulay herself who spoke. ‘And she left some coloured sand?'

‘Yes,' Celia whispered, staring at her, ‘but how did you know? What does it mean?'

‘Don't look so anxious; it's unlikely to be anything that can harm you – not yet anyway.'

Not yet
? Celia's heart bounded in her chest.

‘My friend Annetta was there too. She thinks it's some kind of spell.'

‘A spell!' the Haseki exclaimed. Then she smiled charmingly. ‘I know she looks like a witch, but no. Probably just a charm against the Evil Eye – look, like this one.' She lifted up her wrist to show Celia a fine silver bracelet, from which hung several little discs of blue glass. ‘We wear these for good luck. For protection. Don't you see, they need you – for the moment. Malchi is the creature of the Valide, she wouldn't dare do anything to harm you. But one thing's for sure,' she gave Celia another of her searching looks, ‘you must be very careful. They're watching you already.'

The Haseki drew back against her cushions again, as though the effort of talking had tired her out.

‘Is that what you wanted to tell me?'

Gulay shook her head. ‘Esperanza's not the one you need to watch out for,' she went on, speaking quickly now, ‘there are others, others who are far more dangerous. Handan knew it, too. Have you ever heard talk of the Nightingales?'

Celia shook her head.

‘The Nightingales of Manisa. Three slaves, with beautiful singing voices, who were given to the old Sultan Murad by his cousin, Princess Humashah. They were famous in their day. One became his Haseki—'

‘The Valide.'

‘Another became the Chief Black Eunuch.'

‘Hassan Aga? But they say he's going to die …'

‘And the third—' The Haseki leant towards Celia as if to whisper in her ear, but then, just as suddenly, she drew away again in alarm. ‘What's that?' She turned to look behind her.

Celia listened, but all she could hear, from a distant part of the gardens, was the sound of workmen, the sound of their hammers carrying faintly on the afternoon breeze. ‘It was nothing. Just those workmen, perhaps.'

‘Yes, look, they're coming.' Gulay picked up her fan and began to wave it in front of her, shielding her face from view. ‘My servants – they are returning.' She seemed very nervous suddenly, smoothing down her robe with anxious fingers. ‘I thought we would have longer,' she whispered to Celia from behind her fan, ‘but the Valide doesn't allow them to leave me for too long.'

And as she spoke Celia saw that the Haseki's servants were indeed now coming towards them. They brought trays of fruit arranged in frosted pyramids and cups of iced sherbet which they placed on a low table inside the kiosk. Although they served the Haseki with all the deference that was owed to her, the atmosphere, Celia thought, seemed tense. One servant girl in particular kept glancing at Gulay with an expression Celia could not read. To their evident reluctance, at the Haseki's insistence they served Celia first. Only afterwards did she eat herself, Celia noticed, and then only sparsely, and from the same foods that Celia had first taken.

The presence of the other women made further conversation impossible. The two sat silently whilst their attendants moved around them. The shadows in the garden had begun to lengthen, and the cypress trees sent cool shadows over the little pavilion.

Celia looked at the woman sitting next to her, and realised what it was that the Valide must fear in her: beneath that gentle exterior was something else, some other quality that, despite her fear, made Celia's heart soar. From time to time she detected an expression that was neither soft nor shy, an expression of pure intelligence. If you are my friend, my guide, she thought, then perhaps, after all, I can survive.

But under the watchful eye of the servants, all ease was gone now. Soon the Haseki gave the signal for Celia to take her leave.

‘Until we meet again, Kaya Kadin,' she said. ‘There is much that we have to talk about still.' A look of understanding passed between them.

As the attendants backed away, Celia seized her chance.

‘But why me, Haseki Sultan?' she murmured, in a voice she hoped could not be overheard. ‘I don't understand why they are watching me.'

‘Because of the sugar ship, of course,' came the reply. ‘Didn't you know? It was sent by the English.'

In the silence that followed, Celia could see the waters of the Sea of Marmara sparkle like beaten silver in the distance

‘Ask your friend Annetta, she knows,' the Haseki said, ‘she was here, in this kiosk, with the Valide, on the day the English ship arrived, two weeks ago now.'

‘The English ship?' Celia whispered.

‘Yes, indeed. The English embassy ship. The one that has brought the great gift for the Sultan. The one they have been waiting for these last four years. Listen!' And there came again, still more faintly now, the sound of the workmen hammering. ‘There they are now at the gate.'

‘The gate?'

‘But of course. They're setting the gift up at the Aviary Gate.'

‘You knew!'

‘Yes.'

‘You
knew
! And you didn't think to tell me?'

‘You know why not.'

Annetta stood before Celia in the Courtyard of the Favourites. Now that Celia was considered a
kadin
, a lady in the palace hierarchy, it was against etiquette for Annetta to sit unless asked to do so; and Celia, in her anger, kept her standing. It was nearly dusk now. In the fading light she could see that Annetta did not look well; her skin had a greasy pallor to it, like old cheese.

‘You know we agreed, no looking back. Please, Celia, give me the sign to sit.'

‘No – I think I'd like you to remain as you are.'

An expression of surprise flitted across Annetta's face, but she remained standing. ‘What good would it have done?'

‘And after everything I told you?' Celia's lips were white, fear almost forgotten in the heat of her anger. ‘Don't you think I might have been the judge of that?'

Annetta lowered her eyes and did not reply.

‘An English ship arrived here two weeks ago. An English
embassy
ship. Paul might have been on it. He might be here, right now. Don't you see – how that changes everything?'

Annetta looked up with dull eyes. ‘But don't you see, it doesn't change a thing.' The words came out slowly, almost thickly. ‘We agreed, remember? No going back.'

But anger had made Celia bold. ‘That's what you always told me, but I don't remember ever agreeing to it. Even if I had, this would have changed everything. It
does
change everything.'

‘Don't be a fool, if anyone ever finds out it will ruin us, can't you see?' Annetta was pleading with her now. ‘There's no way out of here. You are our best chance of survival – perhaps our only chance. You could become one of the Sultan's concubines, perhaps even the Haseki …'

‘You're not thinking about me at all, are you? All you've ever really cared about is yourself – how to save your own miserable skin.'

‘Very well, if it makes you happy I'll admit it.' Annetta put her hand to her throat, as if to loosen the buttons there. ‘My star is linked with yours, of course it is. But I've helped you too, you know, or have you forgotten? Two is better than one. How many times … oh, never mind!' She shook her head wearily. ‘Have you stopped to ask yourself
why
the Haseki is telling you all these things?' She looked at Celia, beseeching now. ‘Why is she trying to drive us apart?'

‘Oh, stuff and nonsense,' Celia said sharply, ‘you've done that very successfully all by yourself. She was trying to help me, that's all. She's got no idea of the significance of any of this, why should she?'

‘If you say so. But believe me,' she gave a tired shrug, ‘you don't want to draw attention to your connection with the English ship, not now, not after what's happened to Hassan Aga.'

‘I think I've worked that out for myself, thank you,' Celia said bitterly.

‘Please, I was trying to protect you, that's all.'

Although the evening was cool, Celia could see that Annetta was sweating; tiny droplets stood out on her brow and the top of her lip.

‘Please, goose, I need to sit down.' Annetta swayed slightly to one side.

‘Sit then.' Softening, Celia gave her the signal. ‘But don't call me goose.'

Holding one hand to her side, just beneath her ribs, Annetta sat down. Celia regarded her friend. ‘You aren't well.'

Not a question, a statement.

‘No. I have a pain, just here, since this morning.' Annetta pressed her hand to her ribs.

‘Me too,' Celia said, unsympathetically. ‘Probably just indigestion, that's all.'

‘Indigestion!' Annetta moaned. ‘It's that witch, Malchi, she's put the Evil Eye on us, I know it.'

‘She's not a witch.' Celia said calmly. ‘The sand was a charm, for good luck.'

Annetta looked at her sceptically. ‘Who told you that?'

‘The Haseki.'

‘Not her again.' Annetta's voice was sour. ‘And have you asked yourself why she wants to ingratiate herself with you all of a sudden?'

‘You wouldn't understand.'

The two sat crossly together side by side, not speaking.

It was nearly dark now. Small groups of girls, some merry, some silent, were making their way back inside. Their figures, Celia thought to herself, were like the black paper silhouettes the pedlars in London used to sell in fairgrounds and on feast days. In the gardens only the white roses in the flower beds could be seen now, their heads glowing with an eerie phosphorescence. High overhead the bats swooped, threading their way though the dying light.