Selim.
When he was born she had not been sure who the father was, yet by the time he was grown and it should have been plain to everyone, Çehangir had come along to cast doubt on everything. Who would have believed the Lord of Life could have sired a hunchback cripple? So then why not a fat, pasty-faced and surly youth with no real talent except for nursing slights?
He was no ghazi, and no Sultan, just as Suleiman's mother had said.
It was obvious to her which of her boys would succeed if there was a contest for the throne between them, which one should have her blessings and her encouragement. Bayezid would make a fine Sultan, if it came to it, almost as good as Mustapha.
And then another idea presented itself in all its panoramic and glorious perversity and she laughed aloud.
Chapter 23
The Bosphorus, off Çamlica.
They escaped the hot August night on the slick still waters of the Bosphorus. A black and gold caïque was always in readiness for them at Seraglio Point and Suleiman sailed into the Horn with Hürrem, accompanied only by three deaf-mute bostanji to man the tiller and oars. They drifted with the current a stone's throw from the shore. Torches burned at prow and stern.
There was a cabin at the stern hung with black velvet curtains to assure their privacy. Hürrem peered out, saw the dark cedar-grown cemeteries of Çamlica slide past in the darkness.
Suleiman seemed once again preoccupied. He had changed so much since Ibrahim's death. He seldom laughed anymore. He had dismissed all the musicians from the seraglio and had their instruments burned. He never even asked her to play for him now; he said the music of the viol reminded him too much of Ibrahim.
He had learned to punish himself in small ways. He sent his favourite green and white Chinese porcelain back to the treasure house at Yedikule and ate instead from earthenware. He had drunk not one drop of wine since his Vizier's death.
He spent more time now with his architect than he did with her. 'I have consulted with Sinan,' he said, predictably. 'He has drawn some plans I would like you to see.'
'You are going to build a mosque in my honour?'
'It is not holy to joke that way.'
'I am sorry, My lord. I thought you liked me to be a little wicked sometimes.'
'This is a serious matter and requires your attention. I have asked him to design a new palace on the ruins of the old Eski Saraya.'
What is this obsession with building, she thought. Once he was merely the Sultan by God-given right; but since Ibrahim he has found this need to justify himself.
'I would like you to study his plans and give them your approval.'
Hürrem pouted. 'Is it so terrible for you, having me here in the palace?'
'You know that is not the case. There is simply no room for the Harem at the Topkapi. It is impossible.'
'Of course there is room. Why not have Sinan put his talents to use in the Fourth Court? A man could gallop through there all day and not reach Seraglio Point.'
'A wild exaggeration. Besides, there are other considerations.'
'Tell me them.'
'Considerations of state.'
'It all sounds so pompous.'
'The Harem simply cannot be part of the royal palace. It has always been separate.'
'It is a large harem, my Lord. Do you still hunger for the other girls?'
'Of course not.'
'Then perhaps if you no longer require them, you could order the Kislar Aghasi to find them husbands. Then it would be only me and my household that you would need house here.'
'What you are asking is unthinkable. Sinan has been commissioned. There is an end to it.'
Hürrem realized she had gone too far. She should not push him. She had not really expected that he would agree. She nuzzled closer, resting her head on his chest. There were better ways to get what she wanted. 'I am sorry of I gave you offense, my Lord. It is just that I would so hate to be parted from you again.'
'Hürrem sometimes you forget yourself.'
She nestled closer. 'Do you love me, my Sultan?'
'I love you
When he was born she had not been sure who the father was, yet by the time he was grown and it should have been plain to everyone, Çehangir had come along to cast doubt on everything. Who would have believed the Lord of Life could have sired a hunchback cripple? So then why not a fat, pasty-faced and surly youth with no real talent except for nursing slights?
He was no ghazi, and no Sultan, just as Suleiman's mother had said.
It was obvious to her which of her boys would succeed if there was a contest for the throne between them, which one should have her blessings and her encouragement. Bayezid would make a fine Sultan, if it came to it, almost as good as Mustapha.
And then another idea presented itself in all its panoramic and glorious perversity and she laughed aloud.
Chapter 23
The Bosphorus, off Çamlica.
They escaped the hot August night on the slick still waters of the Bosphorus. A black and gold caïque was always in readiness for them at Seraglio Point and Suleiman sailed into the Horn with Hürrem, accompanied only by three deaf-mute bostanji to man the tiller and oars. They drifted with the current a stone's throw from the shore. Torches burned at prow and stern.
There was a cabin at the stern hung with black velvet curtains to assure their privacy. Hürrem peered out, saw the dark cedar-grown cemeteries of Çamlica slide past in the darkness.
Suleiman seemed once again preoccupied. He had changed so much since Ibrahim's death. He seldom laughed anymore. He had dismissed all the musicians from the seraglio and had their instruments burned. He never even asked her to play for him now; he said the music of the viol reminded him too much of Ibrahim.
He had learned to punish himself in small ways. He sent his favourite green and white Chinese porcelain back to the treasure house at Yedikule and ate instead from earthenware. He had drunk not one drop of wine since his Vizier's death.
He spent more time now with his architect than he did with her. 'I have consulted with Sinan,' he said, predictably. 'He has drawn some plans I would like you to see.'
'You are going to build a mosque in my honour?'
'It is not holy to joke that way.'
'I am sorry, My lord. I thought you liked me to be a little wicked sometimes.'
'This is a serious matter and requires your attention. I have asked him to design a new palace on the ruins of the old Eski Saraya.'
What is this obsession with building, she thought. Once he was merely the Sultan by God-given right; but since Ibrahim he has found this need to justify himself.
'I would like you to study his plans and give them your approval.'
Hürrem pouted. 'Is it so terrible for you, having me here in the palace?'
'You know that is not the case. There is simply no room for the Harem at the Topkapi. It is impossible.'
'Of course there is room. Why not have Sinan put his talents to use in the Fourth Court? A man could gallop through there all day and not reach Seraglio Point.'
'A wild exaggeration. Besides, there are other considerations.'
'Tell me them.'
'Considerations of state.'
'It all sounds so pompous.'
'The Harem simply cannot be part of the royal palace. It has always been separate.'
'It is a large harem, my Lord. Do you still hunger for the other girls?'
'Of course not.'
'Then perhaps if you no longer require them, you could order the Kislar Aghasi to find them husbands. Then it would be only me and my household that you would need house here.'
'What you are asking is unthinkable. Sinan has been commissioned. There is an end to it.'
Hürrem realized she had gone too far. She should not push him. She had not really expected that he would agree. She nuzzled closer, resting her head on his chest. There were better ways to get what she wanted. 'I am sorry of I gave you offense, my Lord. It is just that I would so hate to be parted from you again.'
'Hürrem sometimes you forget yourself.'
She nestled closer. 'Do you love me, my Sultan?'
'I love you
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