Spinoza, Cardozo, and Mendoza. They looked down on the Ashkenazim like Hannah and Isaac, whom they thought boorish and fashioned from coarser clay than themselves.
Hannah took another mouthful of her sherbet. The palace chefs perfumed sherbets with jasmine, attar of roses, bergamot, and cloves, all of which were designed to impart fragrance to the secretions of the odalisques’ private parts. If she and Isaac coupled tonight, would he notice? In her nervousness, a tiny giggle almost escaped her lips.
“Hannah, you have not answered me,” said the Valide. “What is your opinion of Osmanlica? We are fellow Venetians. You can speak frankly.”
True, they were both from Venice, but barriers of social class and religion made it odd to refer to the two of them as “fellow Venetians.” Perhaps the wide expanse of sea and nostalgia for the familiar conferred on them a familiarity they could never attain in Venice.
Hannah took a deep breath. “You and I, Your Highness, slip naturally into Venetian with the gratitude of bathers slipping into the Sweet Waters of Asia on a humid August night.”
The Valide smiled.
“Besides,” Hannah added, “as anyone will tell you, I am a poor linguist. Yesterday in the market I asked for six aubergines and the vendor handed me a bunch of radishes.”
Valide Nurbanu laughed. “I think this is your way of saying you detest Osmanlica and all those who have the misfortune to speak it?”
The Valide might have lived among the Ottomans most of her life but she had not lost the directness of speech that Venetians were famous for.
Hannah said, “I cannot walk abroad in your city as I did in Venice without either my husband or one of the workers in our workshop to accompany me. But hidden in a carriage, I may come and go as I please.”
A look of incredulity passed over the Valide’s face. “Such liberty compared to those of us in the harem! But who would wish for it? Not I.”
Her Highness had no need to leave the harem for either companionship or intelligence. Ezster had told Hannah that the Valide had a network of spies as intricate as the gold mesh holding her hair in place. Nothing escaped the Valide’s notice, from the menstrual rhythms of the girls of the harem to the number of chickens roasted in the palace ovens, to the Grand Vizier’s military campaign against the Safavids in Persia.
The Valide gestured to Kübra to replenish her sherbet. “I find it fascinating to hear other points of view. Tell me more about yourself, Hannah.”
Hannah revealed details about her family, their business, the neighbourhood in which they lived. Encouraged by Nurbanu’s interest, Hannah had the boldness to speak of Isaac’s silk workshop, where he fashioned billowy silk tents in which the rich enjoyed picnics. Hannah described his tents as so delicate that the slightest wind made them billow and dance, deceiving the picnickers into thinking there was a strong breeze blowing off the Bosporus even when there was not so much as a puff of air. Hannah did not mention to Her Highness the glut of silk in the market nor the unsold bolts in the warehouse.
“Another reason for my happiness here is that I can use my skills as a midwife without being branded a witch.”
“And yet,” said the Valide, “our palace cradles are still empty.” She took a sip of sherbet, then replaced the gold-rimmed glass on Kübra’s tray. “It is not a happy state of affairs.”
“It is fortunate that Safiye was able to bear Mehmet, may his health continue to improve, and her little Ayşe.”
“You are well aware”—the Valide paused, touching her lips with a napkin—“that I was … unable to attend Safiye’s confinement.”
Unwilling
was what the Valide meant. It surprised Hannah that Nurbanu would bring this up; it had happened so long ago. “My daughter-in-law was in a great deal of pain, I imagine.” The Valide made the words
I imagine
sound like
I hope
.
“There were difficulties. Her labour
Hannah took another mouthful of her sherbet. The palace chefs perfumed sherbets with jasmine, attar of roses, bergamot, and cloves, all of which were designed to impart fragrance to the secretions of the odalisques’ private parts. If she and Isaac coupled tonight, would he notice? In her nervousness, a tiny giggle almost escaped her lips.
“Hannah, you have not answered me,” said the Valide. “What is your opinion of Osmanlica? We are fellow Venetians. You can speak frankly.”
True, they were both from Venice, but barriers of social class and religion made it odd to refer to the two of them as “fellow Venetians.” Perhaps the wide expanse of sea and nostalgia for the familiar conferred on them a familiarity they could never attain in Venice.
Hannah took a deep breath. “You and I, Your Highness, slip naturally into Venetian with the gratitude of bathers slipping into the Sweet Waters of Asia on a humid August night.”
The Valide smiled.
“Besides,” Hannah added, “as anyone will tell you, I am a poor linguist. Yesterday in the market I asked for six aubergines and the vendor handed me a bunch of radishes.”
Valide Nurbanu laughed. “I think this is your way of saying you detest Osmanlica and all those who have the misfortune to speak it?”
The Valide might have lived among the Ottomans most of her life but she had not lost the directness of speech that Venetians were famous for.
Hannah said, “I cannot walk abroad in your city as I did in Venice without either my husband or one of the workers in our workshop to accompany me. But hidden in a carriage, I may come and go as I please.”
A look of incredulity passed over the Valide’s face. “Such liberty compared to those of us in the harem! But who would wish for it? Not I.”
Her Highness had no need to leave the harem for either companionship or intelligence. Ezster had told Hannah that the Valide had a network of spies as intricate as the gold mesh holding her hair in place. Nothing escaped the Valide’s notice, from the menstrual rhythms of the girls of the harem to the number of chickens roasted in the palace ovens, to the Grand Vizier’s military campaign against the Safavids in Persia.
The Valide gestured to Kübra to replenish her sherbet. “I find it fascinating to hear other points of view. Tell me more about yourself, Hannah.”
Hannah revealed details about her family, their business, the neighbourhood in which they lived. Encouraged by Nurbanu’s interest, Hannah had the boldness to speak of Isaac’s silk workshop, where he fashioned billowy silk tents in which the rich enjoyed picnics. Hannah described his tents as so delicate that the slightest wind made them billow and dance, deceiving the picnickers into thinking there was a strong breeze blowing off the Bosporus even when there was not so much as a puff of air. Hannah did not mention to Her Highness the glut of silk in the market nor the unsold bolts in the warehouse.
“Another reason for my happiness here is that I can use my skills as a midwife without being branded a witch.”
“And yet,” said the Valide, “our palace cradles are still empty.” She took a sip of sherbet, then replaced the gold-rimmed glass on Kübra’s tray. “It is not a happy state of affairs.”
“It is fortunate that Safiye was able to bear Mehmet, may his health continue to improve, and her little Ayşe.”
“You are well aware”—the Valide paused, touching her lips with a napkin—“that I was … unable to attend Safiye’s confinement.”
Unwilling
was what the Valide meant. It surprised Hannah that Nurbanu would bring this up; it had happened so long ago. “My daughter-in-law was in a great deal of pain, I imagine.” The Valide made the words
I imagine
sound like
I hope
.
“There were difficulties. Her labour
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