writing desk and placed the kumru kalp there. When he returned, his features were calm once more.
'You are sure that my father does not know you are here?' Mehmed asked. 'He does not know that you have brought me the kumru kalp?'
'Nobody knows,' Sitt Hatun told him. 'Only your stewardess of the harem.'
'Good, then we shall keep it that way. You will stay in seclusion so long as you are here, served only by your maidservant and the stewardess.' Sitt Hatun nodded. 'You have performed a great service,' Mehmed continued. 'You have my thanks, Sitt Hatun. How may I repay your loyalty?'
'I have only done my duty as a wife, My Lord,' Sitt Hatun replied. 'And I only ask for my due as your wife.'
Mehmed studied her for a long time while Sitt Hatun sat breathless. Finally, he nodded his head. 'Very well,' he said. 'Come.' Mehmed took her hand and led her into the bedroom. Moonlight filtered through the curtains of Mehmed's bed, highlighting the sleeping face of Sitt Hatun. She looked peaceful, a faint smile curling her lips. Gazing on her, Mehmed almost felt sorry for his long-neglected wife. Almost. For although he had enjoyed making love to Sitt Hatun, he already regretted lying with her. He had done so not just to reward her, but out of anger and spite, directed both at his father and at Gulbehar. He had allowed his passions to rule him, and he knew that there would be a price to pay. But there were other things on Mehmed's mind as he rose from bed and padded across the soft carpet to his study. He picked up the kumru kalp by its golden chain and then hung it around his neck. He would wear the gem as a reminder of Gulbehar's betrayal, a reminder never to trust his heart again.
There was little doubt in Mehmed's mind that Sitt Hatun's accusation was true. The kumru kalp never left Murad's neck. It was one of his greatest treasures, a jewel that was said to have been worn by the Roman Empress Anna Comnena herself. Murad had seized it when he conquered Edirne and wore it always as a reminder of his greatest victory. He would never have given it to Sitt Hatun, much less to a mere gedikli. Only one woman could have led him to part with it: Gulbehar. Mehmed knew all too well the wild passions that she could spark. Besides, Sitt Hatun's story only confirmed a hundred suspicions of Mehmed's own. So this, he thought, was why his father had been so eager to send him away, why he had objected so strongly to Mehmed's relationship with Gulbehar, why he had insisted that she stay in Edirne. Anger flared up inside Mehmed, and he gripped the gem so tightly that its sharp edges cut into his hand. The old fool; did he really think that he could steal Mehmed's own kadin? It was time that he taught his ageing father a lesson. It was time that he resumed his rightful place on the throne of the Ottoman Empire.
Mehmed moved from behind his desk to the cabinet on the wall. He opened it and removed the Koran. It fell open in his hands, and Mehmed read: 'Believers, vengeance is decreed for you in bloodshed: a free man for a free man, a slave for a slave, and a female for a female.' Surely a god that counselled a man for a man would also approve of a sultan for a sultana.
Mehmed placed the Koran aside and pressed the hidden latch that revealed the cabinet's secret compartment. He slipped on a pair of tight leather gloves and then removed the box that Isa had brought him. He opened the box and took out the vial of poison. The liquid inside was slightly viscous, pale amber in the moonlight. Mehmed still did not know who had sent the poison, but he would deal with that detail later. For now, it only mattered what the poison could do. He would have his vengeance.
Chapter 10
MAY AND JUNE 1450: CONSTANTINOPLE
The ringing of church bells reached Sofia faintly as she strode through the palace to Constantine's private audience chambers. The sombre tolling marked the end of mourning for the Empress-Mother Helena. Sofia wished that Helena were with her now, to stand by her as she faced Constantine. She had been expecting his summons since she returned to Constantinople the day before, and she dreaded what he would tell her. Was she still to be married, or would she be free?
Sofia entered the audience chamber to find Constantine seated on his throne, a neutral expression on his face. In his right hand he grasped a crumpled copy of the pope's decree. Sofia curtsied before him, and he bid her rise.
'Welcome home, Princess Sofia,' Constantine said. 'I have asked you here to discuss your mission to Italy. Leontarsis has told me that you were very much involved in the negotiations with the pope. Is this true?'
Sofia nodded. 'Forgive me, My Lord, but Leontarsis is a clumsy politician. I thought that I might be more effective.'
'Leontarsis was my appointed ambassador,' Constantine said, his voice rising.
'Even so, I was nearly successful,' Sofia protested. 'And I believe that we can still turn the situation to our advantage, if you only…'
Constantine gestured for her to be silent. 'Your involvement has already led to this!' he roared, holding up the pope's decree. 'I promised my mother on her death-bed that I would enact union, but how can I now? Tell me: how can I!' Then, recovering himself, he continued in an even tone. 'You were sent to Italy to be seen, not heard, Sofia. I had hoped that Leontarsis would find you a husband who could offer us military support, but even that hope is gone.'
How could he reprimand her after all that she had done in Italy? Sofia bit back her anger. 'I did my best to serve you faithfully, My Lord.'
'You serve me best, Sofia, by playing the role of a princess, not a politician. You are lucky that Megadux Notaras is still willing to marry you. I have spoken to him about a date this summer. Until that time, you will do as I say. You are a lady, Sofia. You must behave like one. There will be no more swordplay and no more politicking. If you wish to study, then learn something pleasing: how to sing or play an instrument.'
'Yes, My Lord,' she said in a dead voice.
Constantine frowned. 'I understand that you expressed a wish to visit Father Neophytus, the empress- mother's confessor.' Sofia nodded. 'You have my permission to visit him at the Haghia Sofia. I will send an escort of guardsmen to take you.'
'Thank you, My Lord,' Sofia said. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. She curtsied once more and departed. She was to be married after all. With Helena gone, there was no one left to prevent it. Sofia went to visit Neophytus at the Haghia Sofia on a wet, dreary spring morning that matched the sad spectacle of the once great church, the sight of which always saddened her. It was magnificent even now, but its glory had faded. Although the western facade had been kept in decent repair, the statuary on the side walls was crumbling, and many of the windows that lined the walls of the nave and encircled the building's grand domes were broken. Inside the narthex, the decay was even more obvious. Huge chandeliers bare of candles hovered overhead, suspended from a distant ceiling that was lost in the gloom. Candles were a luxury that had been spared for some time now. The rush torches that had replaced them stood in brackets on the walls, guttering in the draughts from the broken windows above and adding their sooty smoke to the general gloom. The only sound other than the crackling of the torches was the loud drip of water from the high ceiling. The church seemed deserted.
One of the guardsmen who had escorted her to the church stepped forward and rang a small brass bell that hung on the far wall. The loud clanging reverberated off the narrow walls before being swallowed up again by the heavy silence. Sofia heard the sound of approaching footsteps — sandals slapping against smooth stone. At the distant southern end of the narthex a door opened, and a pinpoint of light appeared amidst the gloom. The light came closer, resolving itself into a candle held by a tonsured acolyte in monk's robes.
The acolyte, who looked no older than thirteen, bowed when he saw Sofia. 'My Lady,' he said in a cracking voice. 'How may I help you?'
'I am the Princess Sofia. I have come to see Father Neophytus.'
'Princess Sofia!' the boy squeaked, and then continued in a lower voice. 'Father Neophytus is not expecting you. He is…'
'I apologize for not requesting a formal meeting, but I do not expect a special reception,' Sofia said. 'I merely wish to speak to Father Neophytus regarding the empress-mother. Take me to him.'
'Y-yes, of course,' the boy stuttered. 'Follow me.' Sofia wondered why he seemed so nervous. He was probably unused to women and awed by royalty. He led her through one of the doors and into the nave, with its
