the aid of Lateefa Sultan, I attempted to get her to accept this as her life. But you yourself know, Hammid, how restless she was. Then her second husband and his servant arrived to rescue her. I introduced them into the house as John Kira, a cousin, and his servant. I secretly instructed him in the way of Jewish life so that during the time he was here no one would suspect his real identity and mission.
'I had no choice but to help him. He is a favorite cousin of the Scots king, who is the old English queen's heir. The Scots king is very fond of his cousin, and is bound to complain to the English queen, who will write to her friend the Sultan Valide Safiye, who will speak to her son, the sultan.
'The whole thing would have become a public scandal. The sultan's best friend and vizier, holding against her will in carnal bondage the
'The woman, Incili, should never have been sent to Cicalazade Pasha. It was a vicious trick on the part of the vizier's sister, who is a jealous and cruel woman of bad repute.' She turned accusingly to the grand eunuch. 'You knew that, Hammid. Incili told you who she was, and begged you to have her ransomed. She could have made you a rich man. Instead, you used her to sate the never-satisfied appetite of your master in the hopes of furthering your own ambitions. Do you realize the embarrassment you could have caused the sultan and his government?'
Neatly she had shifted the blame from her own frail shoulders onto his fat ones. Eli Kira was open-mouthed in admiration. Ali Ziya was thoughtful.
'Incili is long gone,' said Esther Kira. 'Once again I have loyally served the House of Osman. When Cicalazade Pasha returns from his campaign, tell him that the lady Incili miscarried and died. She was not, by the way, really with child. It was a ruse she used to remain on the island so that her husband might rescue her. The eunuchs are dead and cannot talk. Your rowers can be sold off and replaced, and the oarmaster disposed of some way. No one else knows that Incili is gone. They will believe whatever you tell them.'
'The sultan knows,' said Ali Ziya.
'Tell him that the woman died, and that the eunuchs lied and hid themselves for fear of being blamed. Then tell him that everyone involved has been punished. It is not important to him, and he will forget.'
Ali Ziya nodded. 'You are right, Esther Kira. You know the imperial Ottoman well.'
'I should,' replied the old lady. 'I have been dealing with them successfully for almost a hundred years.'
The eunuchs stood up, as did Eli Kira. 'I apologize, Eli Kira, for this invasion of your home. It did appear as if a crime had been committed in which your family was involved. I hope you will not find it necessary to complain to the sultan.'
'No,' said the banker quickly. 'I understand it was just a terrible misunderstanding. You simply did your duty.'
The Aga Kislar looked at Esther Kira. 'You are a remarkable old woman,' he said dryly. Turning, he left the room, followed by Hammid and Eli Kira.
Alone in the main courtyard of the house, the aga turned to Hammid. 'Do as she suggested. If there is ever any question, I will back you up.'
'Do you believe her, Ali?'
'Yes-and no,' came the reply. The aga climbed into his litter, giving the signal for his departure. Returning to the Yeni Serai, Ali Ziya decided one thing. Esther Kira's influence with the imperial family must be discredited, and without a doubt she must die. Even in her old age she was far too astute, and very dangerous. Then too, she was a living link with a time when the Ottoman sultans were strong men who ruled alone, without the advice of women or eunuchs. Ali Ziya did not want to see that time return.
Chapter 58
THE coast of Thessaly stood dark in the early morning. Purple mountains speared the sunrise sky, snowcapped Olympus and Ossa towering above all. Between these two giants of the Pindus range spread the fertile plain of Thessaly, split by the Peneus River, which flowed into the Aegean Sea.
In that short time between the ebb and the flood tides, when the dark-green waters of the river mixed lazily with the turquoise waters of the sea, a small boat moved from the Aegean into the Peneus.
They had been anchored off this particular piece of coast all night waiting for the calm to get them safely into the river and the fioodtide that followed to sweep them up it. To the passing casual shoreline observer the boat contained four men and a woman. Obviously it was a family boat, a coastal trading vessel, heading upstream to Larissa to sell its cargo.
Within the boat the occupants heaved a collective sigh of relief. Another stage of their journey was over, and thus far it had been unbelievably simple. From the moment they had cast off from the Island of a Thousand Flowers, the skies had remained benevolent and the seas cooperative. They had sped down the Sea of Marmara past the island of the same name where imperial Ottoman slaves quarried marble for the sultan's export trade. Onward through the Dardanelles, and across the Aegean, Cat could not remember them seeing more than two other boats. They had stopped only once, at the island of Lemnos, to take on fresh water.
After all the blue and gold of the sea, the river was a startling change. Cat was stunned by the rugged beauty surrounding her. Seated in the bow of the boat, her dark cloak wrapped about her, she did not know which way to look next. To her right, the precipices descended like the gods themselves from Mount Olympus and fell steeply to the river. Mount Ossa rose the highest on her left, rising fifteen hundred feet straight up from the floor of the valley.
The valley was lush, and there were beautiful horses grazing in the grassy meadows.
'Are they wild?' asked Cat, for she saw neither houses nor people.
'Nay,' Bothwell answered her. 'They are specially raised, and have been since earliest times. Now the Turks own the ranches, but we're not apt to see any people until we reach Larissa. The Turks are on the ranches, and in the cities, and this river passes through only two towns.'
The river began to narrow into a gorge. 'The Vale of Tempe,' he said, as their boat slipped into a close, greenlit world. 'Legend says that Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea, created it so he might have a beautiful bower in which to woo a daughter of the river god.'
Cat looked up at him, her green eyes reflecting the light of the vale. 'How beautiful! Did he win her love?'
'I dinna know, but 'tis a most romantic place for lovers. The vale is also connected to the sun god, Apollo. A maiden named Daphne fled here to escape his lecherous advances. Daphne was dedicated to Apollo's twin sister, the virgin moon goddess, Diana. Apollo was determined to have Daphne, and he cornered her here. She cried out to Diana to save her from shame, and the goddess obliged her handmaiden by turning the girl into a flowering laurel bush. Since then the Vale of Tempe is sacred to Apollo, and in ancient times the laurel for the victor's wreaths at the Pythian Games was gathered here.'
'Had you been Apollo and I Daphne, I would never have fled ye, Francis.'
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. The trip across the sea had turned her creamy skin a rich golden color, and her eyes appeared even greener than usual. Her rich honey-colored hair had been, in the Aegean, free of its bandanna and turban; and the sun had bleached it a pale gold. She was very lovely, and it had been months now since they had last made love. Unfortunately this was not the time, though the place would have been perfect. Ahead were the ruins of the Temple of Apollo, set high above the river within a grove of tall, ancient oaks. He would have enjoyed making love to her in that romantic setting.
Francis sighed, and catching her looking at him, grinned guiltily. She laughed softly. 'I regret it also, Bothwell,' she said, reading his thoughts.
'Yer a witch,' he chuckled.
'Nay. Just yer other half, Francis,' and she caught his big hand and pressed it to her lips.
'Will we get home safely, Bothwell?' she pleaded.
'We will get home safely, Cat. I promise you.'
The Vale of Tempe behind them, the plain of Thessaly spread itself out again in the glory of early summer, and
