hours of their “training.”
Yet, in spite of being in the midst of the
restricted life of the harem, Penny still found it difficult to
imagine that these women would never see the outside world except
through a latticed window. They would never go shopping in the
Grand Bazaar, never see a play they did not perform themselves.
They would not know the thrill of riding a ship under full sail,
the wind blowing their hair. They would not dance and flirt or have
the opportunity to choose a mate. They would never be seen by any
male other than the Sultan and their eunuch guards.
With no society but their own, the sultan’s
women were forced to improvise. Their amusements ranged from
fortune-telling to childish games. Some told stories, others wrote
poetry. Almost all enjoyed the lush gardens with gilded gazebos,
ponds with colorful fish, the sounds of nightingales, canaries, and
doves, overlaid by the cries and squawks of parrots, macaws, and
peacocks. And many liked to peer out the latticed windows facing
the Bosphorus, watching ships come and go, the only sign there was
a life outside the seraglio. Still others, having long since given
up hope of becoming a wife, or even a favorite of the Sultan,
settled onto their cushions, a hookah their only comfort, dreaming
away the days of their confinement. Still others, Penny discovered,
even more thoroughly shocked than by her lessons in how to please
the Sultan, found pleasure with the eunuchs or with each other.
She would never adapt, Penny vowed. Never
accept this was to be her home for the rest of her life. There had
to be something more for her. There simply had to be.
Jason. Dearest
Jason . Somehow, during her time of trial, this young
man Penny scarcely knew became an intimate friend. Her dream lover,
who would surely rescue her from her terrible fate.
He would, he would. She knew he would.
~ * ~
Chapter Eight
The bundle woman was quite certain. She had
seen the English miss in the Grand Bazaar. How could she not notice
such a fair young virgin? And, yes, young master, the new odalisque
in the Sultan’s seraglio was the same girl, there was no doubt. The
Jewish woman, obviously sympathetic, also imparted a second bit of
helpful information. A custom that, to his credit, took Jason
Lisbourne aback only for a moment. If what the woman told him was
true, there might yet be a way out of this coil. Both the bundle
woman and Faik left the villa of Lord Lyndon much pleased by the
gold in their purses, with promise of far more to come if the
woman’s information proved true.
But even for the British Ambassador who had
managed to get approval from the Ottoman Empire to remove the
marble friezes from the Parthenon in Greece, an appointment with
the Grand Vizier was not easily granted. Particularly, when neither
the Grand Vizier nor his Magnificence, Sultan Selim, wished to hear
what Lord Elgin undoubtedly wished to say. But the day came when
excuses waned and the matter could no longer be postponed. Lord
Elgin and Lord Lyndon were granted an audience in the royal throne
room.
Jason noticed, with interest, that the Sultan
was wearing what was likely his most impressive sleeveless robe,
heavy scarlet silk edged in ermine, worn over a garment of gold
brocade. Lord Lyndon also noted that in a room full of men with
colorful robes and full black beards, he and Lord Elgin appeared
oddly bare in their shaven faces and tight English jackets and
fitted breeches. But there was no way they could blend in, after
all. They were here to ask the unthinkable—the removal of a female
from the Sultan’s seraglio.
Lord Elgin stepped forward, bowed low before
the Sultan, the only man seated in this vast room of Ottoman
dignitaries and guards. The Scottish lord’s petition was simple. He
desired the return of Miss Penelope Blayne, a young Englishwoman
who had, quite by accident, he was certain, become part of the
Sultan’s harem. Miss Blayne’s relatives, represented by
Yet, in spite of being in the midst of the
restricted life of the harem, Penny still found it difficult to
imagine that these women would never see the outside world except
through a latticed window. They would never go shopping in the
Grand Bazaar, never see a play they did not perform themselves.
They would not know the thrill of riding a ship under full sail,
the wind blowing their hair. They would not dance and flirt or have
the opportunity to choose a mate. They would never be seen by any
male other than the Sultan and their eunuch guards.
With no society but their own, the sultan’s
women were forced to improvise. Their amusements ranged from
fortune-telling to childish games. Some told stories, others wrote
poetry. Almost all enjoyed the lush gardens with gilded gazebos,
ponds with colorful fish, the sounds of nightingales, canaries, and
doves, overlaid by the cries and squawks of parrots, macaws, and
peacocks. And many liked to peer out the latticed windows facing
the Bosphorus, watching ships come and go, the only sign there was
a life outside the seraglio. Still others, having long since given
up hope of becoming a wife, or even a favorite of the Sultan,
settled onto their cushions, a hookah their only comfort, dreaming
away the days of their confinement. Still others, Penny discovered,
even more thoroughly shocked than by her lessons in how to please
the Sultan, found pleasure with the eunuchs or with each other.
She would never adapt, Penny vowed. Never
accept this was to be her home for the rest of her life. There had
to be something more for her. There simply had to be.
Jason. Dearest
Jason . Somehow, during her time of trial, this young
man Penny scarcely knew became an intimate friend. Her dream lover,
who would surely rescue her from her terrible fate.
He would, he would. She knew he would.
~ * ~
Chapter Eight
The bundle woman was quite certain. She had
seen the English miss in the Grand Bazaar. How could she not notice
such a fair young virgin? And, yes, young master, the new odalisque
in the Sultan’s seraglio was the same girl, there was no doubt. The
Jewish woman, obviously sympathetic, also imparted a second bit of
helpful information. A custom that, to his credit, took Jason
Lisbourne aback only for a moment. If what the woman told him was
true, there might yet be a way out of this coil. Both the bundle
woman and Faik left the villa of Lord Lyndon much pleased by the
gold in their purses, with promise of far more to come if the
woman’s information proved true.
But even for the British Ambassador who had
managed to get approval from the Ottoman Empire to remove the
marble friezes from the Parthenon in Greece, an appointment with
the Grand Vizier was not easily granted. Particularly, when neither
the Grand Vizier nor his Magnificence, Sultan Selim, wished to hear
what Lord Elgin undoubtedly wished to say. But the day came when
excuses waned and the matter could no longer be postponed. Lord
Elgin and Lord Lyndon were granted an audience in the royal throne
room.
Jason noticed, with interest, that the Sultan
was wearing what was likely his most impressive sleeveless robe,
heavy scarlet silk edged in ermine, worn over a garment of gold
brocade. Lord Lyndon also noted that in a room full of men with
colorful robes and full black beards, he and Lord Elgin appeared
oddly bare in their shaven faces and tight English jackets and
fitted breeches. But there was no way they could blend in, after
all. They were here to ask the unthinkable—the removal of a female
from the Sultan’s seraglio.
Lord Elgin stepped forward, bowed low before
the Sultan, the only man seated in this vast room of Ottoman
dignitaries and guards. The Scottish lord’s petition was simple. He
desired the return of Miss Penelope Blayne, a young Englishwoman
who had, quite by accident, he was certain, become part of the
Sultan’s harem. Miss Blayne’s relatives, represented by
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