following me from behind the bushes, but did not then know enough to be afraid.
Carrying the monkey and leading Prince Jehangir by the hand I followed the boys to Sultana Khurrem’s pavilion of many-colored tiles, thus committing all unawares the gravest possible offense. Mustafa, Muhammed, and Selim, all being over seven years old, lived with their
All that had happened so far seemed purely the result of chance, and only later did I learn that Prince Selim was an epileptic. During his childhood the attacks could be controlled and suppressed by means of sedatives. They did not become serious until as a youth he began to drink too much wine. The Sultan naturally wished to keep this terrible disorder secret, and that was why he sent me so hastily out of the garden; he feared that the excitement might bring on an attack. Prince Mustafa was born of the Circassian slave whom Suleiman had dismissed in favor of Khurrem. He was thus only half-brother to Jehangir, and it had evidently been the Sultan’s intention that Mustafa should take me to his own rooms; but Mustafa was generous hearted and of course thought it best for the monkey to be taken straight to its warm cage.
I did become exceedingly agitated, however, to hear a rippling laugh and see coming toward us an unveiled and richly dressed woman with a jeweled net over her hair. She put her arms about Prince Jehangir, and I at once flung myself to the ground, hiding my face in my hands. Yet I was as usual unable to master my curiosity, and stole a glance at her between my fingers, feeling that since in any case my punishment for entering the Sultana’s pavilion must be death, it could make little difference if I had a glimpse of the woman of whom so many tales were told and whom Christian princes overwhelmed with presents.
My first impression was disappointing, for I had expected a ravishing beauty. This was the woman who, alone among countless lovely maidens from all corners of the world, had received the Sultan’s handkerchief and for years after their wedding night had kept his favor. She was a fairly tall, plump woman, still young, but her face was unusually round and her nose anything but aristocratic. It was in her lively play of feature and continual laughter that her charm lay, though it seemed to me that her blue eyes had no part in that mirth. As she regarded the deeply bowing Mustafa over Jehangir’s head I saw in them a singular coldness.
Prince Mustafa explained that he had been commanded to bring me with him to tend the sick monkey and prepare a draught for it. My dog now rose smartly on his hind legs and stretched forth his nose toward the Sultana, in whom he plainly saw the dispenser of titbits. Prince Jehangir giggled, and at once the Sultana sent her women after sweetmeats, which she then gave the dog herself, laughing her silvery laugh. Meanwhile a cup of warm milk had been brought and I was able to induce the monkey to drink a little of it; but it would not leave me and kept one arm tightly round my neck while with the other it tried to coax the dog to come to it.
Sultana Khurrem now turned to me and asked in Turkish, “Who are you, and how can a eunuch have a beard? Can you really treat sick monkeys?”
I pressed my forehead to the ground before her, while the monkey sat on the back of my neck and tried to snatch off my turban.
“Sovereign lady,” I said, “I have not ventured so much as a glance at your radiant beauty. For the sake of my little dog and the sick monkey, protect me, for I’m no eunuch. Through no fault of mine I was brought to the gardens to coax the monkey down from the top of the plane tree, and I’ve not the least idea how I come to be in your presence, most lovely of all women in the world.”
She answered, laughing, “Lift your head and look at me, you simple man, now that you’re here. You’ve made my son Jehangir smile and he loves your dog. But the Kislar-Aga will no doubt receive the silken cord for his negligence, so you’ll die in good company. Prince Mustafa deserves punishment for his stupidity.”
In deep dejection I replied, “I welcome death, if it be Allah’s will. But allow me first to give my dog to Prince Jehangir, if he is fond of him. After my death there will be no one else to care for the poor beast. I will also prepare a draught for the monkey and relieve its suffering. I’m not aware of having in any way offended against yourself or the Lord of all Nations, for it was not of my own will or with evil intent that I entered your presence. Nor can your beauty put me in a state of impurity, for how could one of my lowly estate raise his eyes to you?”
The poor monkey, still sitting on the back of my neck, was now overcome by another fit of coughing. I had to sit up again and take her into my arms. She coughed so violently that froth tinged with blood appeared at the corners of her mouth and she could offer no resistance when I laid her on the soft cushion in the cage, which was warmed by a charcoal brazier. Rael, replete with sweetmeats, jumped into the cage too, and curled up beside the monkey, which put an arm about his neck and tugged his ears. Prince Jehangir crept from his mother’s arms, drew a cushion forward to the cage, and sat down cross legged to gaze with his big, sad eyes at his pet. I could see that he was a gentle boy, who would not ill treat my dog. I then rapidly recited the first sura and said, “Prince Jehangir, my dog is the cleverest dog in the world and has seen many countries. I bequeath him to you, since I am to meet the One who severs the bonds of friendship and silences the voice of happiness. Take care of Rael and be a good master to him, and Allah will surely reward you.”
I was convinced that by the merciless laws of the Seraglio I must die. But the princes cared nothing for my melancholy fate; they clapped their hands and began to make much of their grieving brother Jehangir, in the hope that they too might play with my dog. Sultana Khur- rem said, “Such an animal is no very becoming gift for the son of the Sultan; but he himself is not without blemish and perhaps the animal will be a comfort to him if the monkey dies-as I hope it will, for the smell of its cage pollutes the room. But I’m not hardhearted, and I will speak to the Sultan, if I should be so favored as to meet with him before the mutes have put the rope about your neck. But your entry into this pavilion without permission is so abominable a disgrace for the Kislar-Aga that he will hardly spare your life, and as the Sultan’s slave I am bound to obey the Kislar-Aga in all things.”
I knew enough of the laws of the Seraglio to realize that she was speaking the truth, and that without the Kislar-Aga’s mediation she had not the least chance of approaching the Sultan. Suleiman himself had to submit to that official’s complex ceremonial when wishing to visit the house where his slave women lived, and if one of these had dared to address him without leave it would have constituted an insult to the Sultan’s majesty. For the same reason Suleiman could not visit his favorite without previously making known his intention. He could send for his children, to walk with them in the gardens, but at such times all the women had, on pain of disfavor and dismissal, to stay within doors and out of sight. Only by this strict rule could the Sultan be at peace, for without it his women would have been constantly slinking after him in an attempt to win his favor.
Having reflected as coolly as I could upon my unenviable plight, I said, “I was commanded by the Sultan himself to tend the monkey, so I must now fetch the necessary remedies. Should anyone slay me while I’m on this errand he will be acting against the Sultan’s express command. I will go now; when-and if-I return, the Kislar-Aga may do with me as he pleases.”
The Sultana broke again into a cooing laugh, and this continual mirth began to make me strangely uneasy. She said, “Don’t think for a moment that you can escape. By looking into my face you have broken the strictest rule of the harem. For his own sake the Kislar-Aga will be forced to have you strangled as soon as he catches you, and even now, no doubt, is awaiting you eagerly at the Seraglio gates.”
Prince Mustafa cried excitedly, “This should be good sport! Let’s follow him and see what happens. My father the Sultan entrusted this man to my care, but if I can’t save his life I should at least like to watch him die. Although I’m the Sultan’s eldest son I have not seen many men die. Come, Muhammed!”
The smile faded from Sultana Khurrem’s lips and her eyes turned ice blue, as if the shadow of death had glided through the room. Perhaps danger had quickened my wits, for I understood at once that Mustafa, on ascending the throne after his father’s death, would have his brothers slain. It would be but in accordance with the law, for the gravest menace to the Ottoman Empire had ever been that of civil war between brothers. I had strayed into the gardens of death; what hope remained?
I believe only Prince Mustafa’s arrogant manner saved me, for, since it stung Khurrem to hear him boast of his age compared with that of his half-brother, she made it a point of honor to protect me. She said, therefore, “Mustafa and Muhammed, go at once and find the Kislar- Aga. Tell him to come here instantly on pain of my most severe displeasure.”
The princes were thus compelled to renounce the exciting game in which I was to be the bait. They tossed
