Gulbehar rose and helped Murad to tie the sash around his caftan. 'Mehmed is nothing,' she purred. 'You are the sultan, and you have another heir now — my son.'
The sound of approaching footsteps drew Sitt Hatun's attention from the room. She looked away from the spyhole and saw a light approaching down the passageway from the kitchen. She quickly retreated in the other direction, out into the garden. There was no place to hide, so she passed through it and into the reception room, where she came face to face with Murad. Immediately, Sitt Hatun bowed low, keeping her face to the floor. She backed away, but Murad gestured for her to stop.
'Stand up straight, girl,' he commanded. Sitt Hatun did as she was told. She could see a gleam in Murad's eyes. Was that recognition or simply desire? 'I haven't seen you here before,' Murad continued after looking Sitt Hatun up and down. 'Are you new to Gulbehar's court?'
Sitt Hatun nodded and mumbled in a basso profundo that she hoped adequately disguised her voice, 'I must attend to her, My Lord.' She moved to go, but Murad took her arm, holding her back.
'You certainly are in a hurry,' Murad laughed. 'You should not be so eager to escape the honour of the sultan's gaze.' He turned Sitt Hatun toward him, stroking her arm. 'Take your mask off, girl. Let me see your face.'
Sitt Hatun froze, her mind seeking desperately for some means of escape. She could call out, but what would be the use? She could not run, Murad was holding her arm. And now, he was touching her hair. His hand was playing with the knot that held her mask, slowly loosening it. A few seconds now and she would be revealed. Sitt Hatun closed her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.
'Murad!' It was Gulbehar, still nude and standing in the doorway to the reception room, her hands on her hips. Stepping past Sitt Hatun, she pressed herself against the sultan and purred into his ear: 'Leave my servant alone.' Murad released Sitt Hatun, and Gulbehar kissed him voraciously. Sitt Hatun slipped towards the exit.
'Stop!' Gulbehar snapped, and Sitt Hatun froze. Gulbehar's eyes narrowed as she examined Sitt Hatun. 'What is your name, girl?'
What could she say? She could not claim to be Anna. The deception would be too obvious. Only one other name came to her. 'Cicek, My Lady,' she said and bowed low, hiding her face.
'Be gone, girl,' Gulbehar ordered. 'There's work for you in the kitchen.' She paused, and then added: 'And take off those clothes. You are not an odalisque in my court!'
Sitt Hatun hurried to the harem kitchens. From there, she took a servant's passage that led to her own apartments. She collapsed on her bed, shaking as the fear that she had held inside spread throughout her body. After only a moment, though, she steeled herself, forcing herself to lie still. The danger had passed, and now was no time for weakness. What the girl Anna had told her was true. Gulbehar and Murad were lovers. Soon enough, she vowed, it would be Gulbehar who would have reason to fear. Sitt Hatun spent the next day dreaming of her revenge: how she would tell Mehmed; what Mehmed would do to Gulbehar; how she, Sitt Hatun, would mock her fallen rival. She dreamed, but she did not plan, not yet. After all, there was no hurry. She could not tell Mehmed until he returned from Manisa; there was no messenger that she would trust. And she had decided not to tell Halil. She did not need the vizier and his plan now that she had evidence of Gulbehar's infidelity. Sitt Hatun could look after herself.
That evening she sent a note to Gulbehar requesting that Anna be sent to serve her, and content with Gulbehar's reply that Anna would be sent over the next morning, Sitt Hatun lay down to sleep, looking forward to dreams of vengeance and glory. She awoke with a start at midnight to the sound of a long, terrified scream, cut suddenly short. It had been a woman's voice, and it was strangely familiar. Hearing it, Sitt Hatun's blood ran cold. She listened for a long time, but there was no further sound. Eventually she sank into a troubled sleep.
When she awoke the next morning the day was bright and fair, and the scream seemed distant and unreal — a nightmare better forgotten. Sitt Hatun allowed her odalisques to dress her, took a light breakfast of bread and olives, and then went down to the harem garden to read. She had hardly settled down when Anna arrived. From the moment that Sitt Hatun saw the girl's face, she knew that something was wrong. Anna bowed low. 'Gulbehar has sent me to serve you, My Lady. Do you find me to your liking?'
Sitt Hatun nodded. 'You shall have a place in my household. Come, we shall retire to my apartment, and I will show you where you are to live.' Once they reached Sitt Hatun's apartments, she took Anna aside in her private chamber. 'Tell me,' Sitt Hatun commanded, whispering so as not to be overheard, 'is something wrong?'
Anna nodded, her eyes downcast. 'Your friend, Cicek, is dead.'
'How? What happened?'
'Gulbehar accused Cicek of spying and thieving. Last night, men came and took her. She screamed for help, but they cut out her tongue. They tied her in a bag and threw her in the river.' Sitt Hatun could only nod her understanding as tears filled her eyes. Cicek had paid the price for her own foolishness. She dug her nails into her palms and clenched her jaw tight to prevent herself from sobbing.
'There is more,' Anna continued. 'Gulbehar is furious over the disappearance of the kumru kalp. She suspects that Cicek gave it to you, and that you know about her and Murad. You are in grave danger, My Lady. I know Gulbehar. She will not rest until you are dead.'
Chapter 7
JANUARY 1450: GENOA
The sun had long since set on a cold January day when Longo arrived at the palazzo of Signor Grimaldi to attend the feast being held in honour of the ambassadors from Constantinople. At the gate he dismounted and handed his horse over to William. He watched as the boy hurried off to the stables, no doubt eager to gamble away his few coins with the other squires. William disappeared into the stables, and Longo entered the grand hall of the palazzo Grimaldi.
An enormous chandelier bedecked with innumerable tiny crystals hung from the ceiling, its many flickering candles shedding a glittering light. Candelabras lined the walls, adding to the bright glow. A long table ran down the centre of the room, and around it sat the chiefs of the great families of Genoa. At the top of the table, Grimaldi sat beside his eldest son, Paolo, and they both nodded in greeting as Longo's eyes met theirs. The foot of the table was reserved for the Greek ambassadors, and it was still empty.
Longo spoke to a few men with whom he was on good terms and then took his seat beside his future father- in-law, Grimaldi. 'How are your vineyards?' Grimaldi's son Paolo asked, a trace of a smirk around his lips. Yesterday, someone had set fire to the dry winter vines in Longo's vineyards, forcing Longo to miss the council meeting called to discuss the Greeks' request for troops. Longo suspected that the fire had been set precisely to keep him absent.
'The fire damaged some of my newer nebbiolo plantings — a great blow,' Longo replied. He locked eyes with Paolo before continuing. 'But do not worry on my account, Paolo. I will find who set the fire soon enough, and they will answer for it. As they say, those who play with fire are apt to get burned.'
The moment of tension was interrupted by a blast of trumpets. The men around the table stood as the double doors leading to the hall from the palazzo were opened. The first ambassador to walk through was an elderly man, well preserved, with a long, white beard. 'Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis,' the herald announced.
Leontarsis moved into the hall, and following him, to Longo's great surprise, came the enchanting young woman he had met at the emperor's palace in Constantinople. 'Princess Sofia Dragases,' the herald intoned. She was elegantly dressed in a tight-waisted caftan of buttery-yellow silk and wore a thin golden tiara woven into her long black hair. What was she doing here? Longo wondered.
Leontarsis and Sofia sat, and the Genoese followed suit. Immediately, servants stepped forth carrying an enormous platter on which sat a whole roasted boar. A low buzz of conversation sprang up around the table. Longo half-listened to the talk around him, while keeping his eyes on Sofia at the far end of the table. Finally, after the last course had been served, the room quieted. The real purpose of the gathering had arrived.
Ludovico Fregoso, the Doge of Genoa, stood and raised his glass. 'To our honoured guests and to the prosperity of their fair city,' he toasted, and the assembled company drank.
Fregoso sat, and Leontarsis rose in turn. 'To our Genoese allies, we thank you for your friendship and
