for the Crown. But then again, it was not right—not moral—to leave her an unwilling slave. There had to be a way, subtle but radical, to save her.
“I am not certain of the best way to offer my aid to you.” Perestu’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “I will, of course, instruct the concubines to speak openly to you, but can make no promises that they will be forthcoming.”
I did not much believe her. She was the valide sultan; surely the concubines would do whatever she told them. “If you could perhaps start by telling me everything possible about Ceyden,” I said. “Was she a favorite of the sultan’s?”
“No, no.” She led me to a low sofa built along the outside wall of a charming room, stars painted on the ceiling. “Ceyden was not someone I thought fit for the sultan.”
“And what of his opinion?”
“Men’s opinions are oft en not worth considering.”
I could not help but laugh at this. “Does he know you feel this way?”
“I make sure of it,” she said. “For a very long time, the girl was not happy here. As a child, she was skittish and unpredictable. I understand this is to be explained by the violent manner in which she was taken from her parents, but we knew nothing of that until Sir Richard told her story after the murder. I am sorry for what she suffered, of course, but her inability to rise above it confirms I was correct about the flaws deep in her character.”
“She saw her mother murdered and was then kidnapped.”
“Yes. And was then taken extremely good care of and brought to the most spectacular palace to be found on earth. She was pampered, doted on, educated, given every luxury.”
“Did she have any memory of what she’d been through?”
“Not at all. We think she was around five when she came to us—a gift from a noble family. They’d bought her from traders, I suppose, and had her in their household for at least two years. It is not unheard of to present the sultan with such a girl—it is an honor. She didn’t speak English until Bezime taught her, and if I remember, she had a difficult time of it. It was strange—she seemed to have an affinity for languages, but English always troubled her. She all but refused to speak it.”
I pressed my lips together hard, thinking of the little girl pulled away from her dying mother. “Surely that was because she remembered something of her past?”
“She was a proud girl and knew she hadn’t mastered the language. It came as no surprise that she would avoid showcasing a weakness.”
“Did she come to find a comfortable place here?”
“Eventually. As she got older, she began to enjoy the politics of the harem, and she did everything in her power to catch the notice of my son.”
“Was she successful?”
“She was an accomplished artist, though a terrible musician. She could speak French fluently—something the sultan finds enchanting—and wrote maudlin poetry.”
“Did he favor her at all?” I asked.
“He might have come to. But I kept her from him. The sultan cannot risk having children like her. It would threaten the very empire.”
I opened my mouth to protest, having read scores of stories about the cages, as they were called, in which the crown princes grew up, not allowed to learn anything that might make them competent rulers—competence would threaten the sultan, compromise his political stability. This was a dynasty in which rulers for centuries had murdered their own brothers upon ascending to the throne in an attempt to secure their own positions. The immature behavior of a traumatized child paled in comparison.
“You are skeptical, I see,” she said.
“I admit to feeling that it stretches credulity, but I’ve no reason to doubt your veracity.”
“It is essential the sultan know that he can depend upon my judgment. I have in front of me scores of girls when you include the slaves in the harem as well as the wives and concubines. I choose for him the best. Ceyden was not that. You may not agree with my decision, but your opinion of the matter is irrelevant.”
“Quite right. Please do not think I am questioning your actions.” Alienating her would not benefit me in the least. “Did Ceyden know her situation was hopeless?”
Perestu shrugged. “I did not deliberately hide my feelings from her. But her persistence knew no bounds. The day she died she brought me a scarf embroidered with the most intricate detail I’ve ever seen—flowers and birds all in gold and silver thread against a red background. I collect such things.”
“Did you feel she was insincere in her affection for you?”
“Affection? Her generosity was entirely self-serving, but there was a charm about her, a certain naïveté. She did not understand the art of bribery.”
“Did she try to influence anyone else?”
“She had a friendship with Jemal that grew too close.”
“I met him at Topkapı. Does he work at both palaces?”
“He was sent to Topkapı because of Ceyden. As I said, they’d become too close.”
“Who forced him to move?”
“I am valide sultan,” she said, smiling. “No one in the harem balks at my orders. It is as if they are law.”
“Why did Ceyden’s friendship with Jemal concern you?”
“Because I didn’t trust either of them.” I opened my mouth to ask why, but she did not let me speak. “And for now that is all there is to be said on the topic. It does not, I assure you, have any bearing on the matter at hand.”
“Did Ceyden make any other attempts to circumvent you?”
“There would be no point.”
“The sultan never makes a selection on his own?”
“He could, of course, but petty amusement is far from his top priority. He has an empire to run, Lady Emily. He already has children and their mothers to contend with.”
I tried to squelch the judgment rising through me. Children and their mothers, yet still in need of petty amusement? For a moment, I wished I could return to my romanticized view of the harem. Candor, I decided, was my only option. “Perestu, forgive me. This is all so very foreign. I cannot imagine sharing my husband.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Only a few months.”
“A short time, and you are very young. But this is not relevant.”
“I suppose not. I’m only trying to better understand Ceyden’s situation.”
“The harem is a world of its own. She wanted to climb to the top of it. I would not let her.”
“Are you glad she’s dead?”
“Her existence made no difference to me. It was, occasionally, amusing to watch her unschooled attempts at seduction.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t close to the sultan?”
“No, only to Jemal. She loved him.”
“But the eunuchs...” I was now full in territory that repelled, fascinated, and confused me.
“Are not true men,” she finished for me. “Quite right, but some of them are men enough.”
A thousand questions leapt to my lips, but I could not bring myself to ask a single one. “I didn’t—”
“You are unused to this sort of openness. Such subjects are not forbidden to women here, Lady Emily. Ceyden was not entirely incapable of using her charms, limited though they were, to her advantage.”
“Could Jemal wield influence with the sultan?”
“He would like to think he can influence me.”
“Is he right?”
“Sometimes,” she said.
“Who was watching Roxelana and me in the park? One of the guards?”
“We’ve covered quite enough for today.” She gave me a narrow smile and left the room.
I spent the rest of the afternoon interviewing slaves and concubines, many of them stunning Circassians, the
