A Love for All Time (62 page)

“And do you soil your beautiful hands with the dirt of this land, fair Marjallah?” He had stopped, and was now holding up her hands for his inspection. They were lovely hands, slender with long fingers, soft and white perfectly shaped nails. Casually he kissed her fingertips, and then lowering her hands moved on again.

“I enjoy working in my gardens, your majesty,” she replied, deliberately forcing her voice to remain cool and totally impersonal. His bold action had both frightened her somewhat, and shocked her for she felt that by his actions the sultan was disloyal to Safiye. She would never get used to a world where a man took his pleasure of as many women as suited him.

They had passed through now into what Aidan considered the main part of the garden, and here was planted bed upon bed of tulips. Graceful goblets that swayed in the gentle breeze, their colors ranged from white and cream to pink, red, scarlet, crimson, gold, and deep blue-purple. There were exquisite water-lily tulips from Turkestan, and from the fabled city of Samarkand there were glorious brilliant scarlet blossoms. Planted in groups of both solid and contrasting colors they sprang from beds that were both round and rectangular in shape, some encircling the newly repaired fountains and pools some of which had pink water lilies just coming into bloom, and were now home to schools of large, fat goldfish. At the corner of some of the flowerbeds were yellow azaleas native to the region just across the Bosporus, and therefore quite comfortable in Aidan’s garden.

There were other plants growing in the gardens, but none was yet in bloom. As the season progressed there would be roses of many varieties, bougainvillea, lilies, and sultan’s balsam as well as two flowers of the night-blooming species, sweet nicotiana and moonflowers. There were, however, blooming even now with her bulbs almond and peach trees whose feathery blossoms stood in delicate contrast to the sturdy dark green pines and cypresses.

Aidan and the prince now led their guests to a pavilion that had been set up at the end of the garden. It offered both a view of the deep blue sea beyond, and of the glorious garden itself. An awning made of cloth of gold, and grass-green silk had been placed over the wooden pavilion to protect its inhabitants from the heat of the midday sun; and it was furnished with a thick wool carpet in soft blue and gold spread over the flooring of the platform upon which had been placed two divans, one for the sultan, and the other for his mother. Stools with red velvet pillows had been provided for Safiye, Fahrusha Sultan, and the lady Janfeda while the rest of the ladies were forced to make do, positioning themselves about the sultan’s divan on plump silk cushions in jeweled colors.

The sultan invited Javid Khan to share his divan while inviting Aidan to sit upon a cushion on the rug between them. Refreshments were then served consisting of several different kinds of sherbets, some flavored with strawberries, lemon, or orange, others flavored with rose or violet. There was an abundance of fresh fruits, oranges already sectioned, and peeled free of their delicate white membrane; wild, sweet strawberries of dark red hue; green figs; early golden peaches and apricots as well as bunches of fat purple grapes that had been brought from the orchards of the Holy Land; and a golden platter upon which had been arranged plump dates, each stuffed with an almond. A selection of delightful pastries, flaky layers of dough filled with chopped nuts and honey, gazelle horns, treats made with sesame and honey, and delicate almond cakes, completed the repast.

When the sweet feast had been finished, and Aidan’s slaves had passed around fragrant moist towels to all the guests so that they might wipe the stickiness from their hands and faces, the entertainment began. There was an amusing gypsy family with their troupe of performing dogs that had the sultan roaring with laughter. He so much enjoyed them that he took a large, virtually flawless diamond from his finger, and presented it to the patriarch of the family, a proud mustachioed man who accepted the tribute as graciously as it was given. Next came an elderly Indian who placing several deep, round baskets before the pavilion then seated himself behind them, and began to play upon a pipe. As the reedy tune filled the air there came from the baskets—one at a time—the tune changing ever so slightly as each basket’s inhabitant took his cue—large, hooded snakes that Javid Khan told the assembled gathering were called cobras, and were native to the snake charmer’s land. The rather frightening reptiles writhed and bobbed seemingly in time to their master’s music. Aidan was not sorry to see the finish to the snake charmer’s performance.

In the trees about the pavilion there had been placed silver and gold cages of singing birds who now went wild as a young girl appeared to entertain the assembled guests with a flock of doves and pigeons that she had trained to fly in various formations according to her whistled signals. The conclusion of her recital was a spectacular exhibition in which the birds first flew in a wide circle above the gardens, and then descended in a line to position themselves upon their mistress’ outstretched arms. The spectators clapped wildly, and the sultan valideh rewarded the girl with a necklace of semiprecious gemstones.

The conclusion of the entertainment was provided by a troupe of very sensual and exotic dancing girls who traveled about the sultan’s empire with their master, who was a Syrian. It was a great honor for them to dance before Murad, and they strove to give him their best performance. The sultan was enchanted enough to consider buying the troupe for his own amusement, but he was prevented from his folly by his mother who hissed at him, “Would you make yourself a laughingstock? You already have too many dancing girls, and if you want more then leave it to Ilban Bey to see to it. Do not lower yourself to bargain like a common merchant ! You are the Grand Turk, my lion!”

Murad compressed his lips in a tight line, and nodded. “You are right, mother. I was but carried away by the moment, and the deep and great pleasure this day has given me.” He turned to Javid Khan. “I do not know when I have enjoyed myself so much, my friend. Your hospitality and that of your lovely wife has warmed my heart.” He sighed effusively. “It is rare that I can allow myself the privilege of behaving like an ordinary man. Today has meant much to me.”

Similar thanks were forthcoming from Nur-U-Banu. “Dearest Marjallah, I am so relieved to see you happy and obviously content. I well remember the agony of first captivity, but then we are not really captives, are we? It is the way of nature that a woman be subservient to her lord. Thank you for a lovely day.”

Safiye took Aidan’s hands in her own. “I am so glad,” she said softly, “that we are friends. You know my difficulties, but now I have you to rely upon, and you, Marjallah, have me. Remember that.”

Fahrusha Sultan and the lady Janfeda took their leave of their hostess politely as did the other ladies of the harem who had accompanied their master to Javid Khan’s palace. Then like a troupe of pastel-colored butterflies they fluttered across the lawn and down to the waiting caïques. The sultan, however, had remained behind, and now taking Aidan’s hand in his once more he raised it to his lips, turning it to kiss her palm. His dark eyes locked hypnotically onto hers.

“You have pleased me, Marjallah,” he said quietly. “Your perfect demeanor and your clever wit have brought honor upon my house because you were my gift to Javid Khan. I will think carefully of the best way to reward you for your behavior.

“I am already rewarded by your majesty’s presence, and his gracious words,” Aidan replied all the while stifling the urge to pull her hand back and wipe his kiss from her skin. Murad frightened her with his intensity.

“You are perfection,” he said, “and in a few days’ time I will send you a gift to match your spirit. Farewell, Marjallah!” Then he was gone, striding away down the quay, and only when he had gone did she shudder with repugnance.

Her husband’s arm went tightly about her shoulders. He had seen the sultan’s leave-taking of his wife, and Javid Khan’s anger had burned hot that Marjallah must be forced to stand uncomplaining while Murad had salivated over her. “I agree with the sultan in one thing,” he said. “You have a magnificent and incomparable spirit, my jewel. I will not, however, allow you to be insulted like that again. In a little over three months’ time my father’s tribute will arrive from the Crimea. I will write to my father to send a new ambassador to the Sublime Porte so that we may return home then.”

“Oh, Javid, do you really want to? Will it not displease your father that you leave this post he has honored you with only after a year’s time?” Her face was a mask of concern for him, and it didn’t occur to Aidan that she wasn’t even afraid of leaving Istanbul for a place that would be more distant from England.

His arm still about her as they walked back into the gardens, he said, “The Khanate of the Crimea has never before sent a resident ambassador to Istanbul. The Ottoman is our overlord, and each year we have sent our tribute to him in late summer, but Murad wanted an ambassador. My father chose to ignore his request, politely, of course, but nonetheless he ignored it. When my brother Temur murdered my family those long months ago, my melancholy was so great that my mother persuaded my father to honor the sultan’s desire for an ambassador, and to send me. It was done to remove me from the scene of my greatest happiness, and my greatest sorrow. Now, however, I have found new and even greater happiness with you, my precious jewel. As long as we are together I shall lack for nothing.

“You will like my homeland! Although the upland plains that comprise most of our lands are cold and windy in the winter, and hot and dry in the summer season, my home is along the coast where it is mild and healthful. The lands along that southeast coastal strip are very fertile. The orchards and the vineyards are numerous. The variety of fruits in the marketplaces is amazing to behold. There are cherries, and peaches, figs, apricots, apples, pomegranates, pears, and grapes. I had an entire orchard of almond trees, and on the steppes I grazed a great herd of horses. Praise Allah that Temur was so busy indulging in his blood lust that he did not destroy my orchards although he burned my home and my stables, but not before he ran off my stock. He behaved exactly like our rather fierce ancestors. He always took great delight in the fact that he was named after the great Tartar warlord, Timur, descendant of the mighty Genghis Khan, grandson of the famed Kublai Khan.”

“Why did you not revenge yourself upon him, my lord Javid? Why did you not kill him?” This was something that had been disturbing Aidan for some time now.

“I am a Muslim, Marjallah, and I like to think that if I am not a very devout man, at least I am a good Muslim. The Koran, our holy book, forbids the taking of a brother’s life. Temur is not just my brother though, he is my twin. We shared the same womb at the same time. We were birthed together. Despite his bestiality I cannot kill him for to do so would be to kill off a part of me, a part of our mother who has suffered deeply the actions of one of her sons, our father who has always been a wise and fair man. Destroying Temur would have given me but momentary satisfaction. It would not, however, have brought back my wives and family.

“Temur and I seem to be like night and day. He has ever flouted our laws, our religion, our ways. Each day he lives he is punished now for his actions have cut him off from his own family, his people, and this for a Tartar is the worst punishment of all. His name has been struck from our history, and it is as if he never existed at all. It is a living death, Marjallah.”

She nodded. “I understand,” she said, “and now I even feel a little sorry for your brother. There is no way he can right the wrong that he has committed. He will never see his own wives and his son again. How terrible, my lord Javid! What devils have ever driven him that he would perpetrate such folly not only upon you, his twin, but upon himself?”

Javid Khan stopped, and tipped her face up to his. Looking down on her, his eyes brimming with love he said, “This is why I adore you, my wife. You have a heart that could understand the devil himself!”

Blushing prettily at his extravagant compliment Aidan hid her face against his shoulder. “You make me sound so good,” she said, “and I am not! If I could get my hands upon your brother I should make him suffer for all the pain he has caused you!”

The prince laughed heartily. “Ahh,” he said, “I think that you must have a little Tartar blood in your veins, my jewel! How very fierce you sound, and what is more I believe that you would do exactly as you threaten.”

“I would!” She looked back up at him, her gray eyes stormy.

“We are going home to the Crimea,” he said firmly. “I will send my father word, and I shall rebuild us a new palace, but not upon the site of the old one lest the ghosts of the slain trouble us. I will take you home, my darling wife, and we will become settled old married folk.”

“Who shall raise almonds, and children,” she teased him.

“Sons,” he corrected her.

“And daughters, too,” she insisted.

“Only,” he said, “if they are pretty and as clever as their mother.”

Aidan smiled up at Javid Khan. “I promise,” she said solemnly.