her embroidery frame, stitching a pastoral scene. The slaves cleared the meal away and then disappeared into their own small quarters. Iris trimmed the lamps which were swaying precariously from their chains. Glancing over at Halil, Theadora saw that the boy had fallen asleep. She nodded to Iris who gathered the child up and tucked him into his bed.
“Only an innocent could sleep in this storm,” the older woman noted. “Me? I am terrified, but I suppose if it’s my fate to feed the fishes, I won’t escape it.” She plumped herself down on her mistress’s bed and began calmly to mend one of the little prince’s silk shirts.
Theadora silently continued with her embroidery. It was not particularly comforting to know that Iris was as frightened as she was-but, remembering her late mother’s words about the difference between the ruling class and the rest of the world, she again called on the deep reserve of discipline that was her heritage. She was Theadora Cantacuzene, a princess of Byzantium. She was Theadora Cantacuzene, the sultan’s wife. She must be strong for the sake of her little son and for her slaves who were, after all, not just her property, but her responsibility as well.
She glanced instinctively toward the small bowed window as the ship gave a particularly violent lurch, and, for one terrifying moment, she felt as if her heart had stopped. There was so much water she was not sure that the ship had not sunk. Then, like a bobbing cork, the ship rose again on the angry white crest of the waves. As she regained her breath, she realized her finger was throbbing. Looking down, she saw that she had pricked it with her needle. A bright red drop of blood lay for a moment upon the white linen before soaking into the embroidery. She made an irritated sound and, picking up the carafe of fresh water near her, dribbled some of it on the stain. By rubbing vigorously she managed to remove the blood. She then put her injured finger into her mouth and sucked on it.
She discovered that she was shaking, and it suddenly occurred to Theadora that she did not want to die. She was just twenty, which was really not all that old-and, except for those few brief hours in the convent garden with Prince Murad, she had never really known any happiness. And what of her son? He had known only seven years.
The ship was pitching wildly now, and Iris moaned. Her face had taken on a sickly green tinge, and Theadora shoved a basin at the woman just in time.
When Iris had finished, Theadora took the basin and hurried out of the cabin with it in deliberate defiance of the captain’s orders. She was not, she thought grimly, going to spend the rest of the storm locked in a cabin that reeked of vomit. That would be sure to prolong Iris’ illness and possibly weaken her own fluttering stomach.
By hugging the passageway she was able to reach the exit. Standing in the hatchway, she flung the entire basin out into the storm, watching with amazement as the wild wind caught the brass vessel and held it aloft as though deciding whether it wanted it or not. After a moment, it plunged into the boiling sea. There was something so wonderfully alive about the storm that for a moment Theadora paused where she was, and her fear temporarily gone, she laughed aloud at the fierceness and the beauty of it.
Making her way back to her cabin, she found that poor Iris had fallen asleep on her narrow couch. Theadora sat again at her embroidery. She had worked for several hours when she suddenly became aware that the sea was once again calm. She rose and stretched her cramped limbs. A knock sent her quickly to the door where the captain waited, looking very tired.
“Are you all right, Highness?”
“Yes, Captain Hassan. We are all fine.”
“I came to warn you that the storm is not yet over.”
“But the sea is as calm as a fishpond.”
“Yes, my lady, it is. We call it the ‘eye’ of the storm. A center of calm in the midst of turbulence. When we reach the other side of that calm, may Allah preserve us. Please continue to remain in your cabin.”
“How long will the calm last?”
“Perhaps half an hour, my lady.”
“Then I will, with your permission, come up on deck for a few minutes, captain. My son and my servants are sleeping, but I confess that I am restless.”
“Of course, Highness. I will escort you myself.”
She closed the door quietly and, taking his arm, walked out onto the wet deck. The heavy air was still, and it appeared as if they sailed into an ink pot. Above and around them, the sky and the sea were a flat black. But then the captain pointed ahead, and in the strange half-light Theadora could see the water some distance ahead of them, roiling a foaming white
“The other side of the storm, Highness. There is no escaping it.”
“It is magnificent, Captain Hassan! Will we survive its savagery?”
“As Allah wills it, my lady,” replied the captain fatalistically, shrugging his shoulders.
They stood at the rail for some minutes. Then, sensing the captain’s impatience, Theadora said, “I will return to my quarters.” Inside again she bent over her son and kissed him gently. So deep was his slumber that he did not even stir. Iris lay on her back, snoring gently.
She could feel the ship beginning to pitch again as they approached the other side of the storm. Theadora sat quietly with her hands folded tightly and prayed silently for the safety of the vessel and all who sailed on it. Never, since leaving St. Catherine’s, had she immersed herself so deeply in prayer.
Suddenly, as the ship lurched sickeningly, there came a tremendous crash that rocked the ship to its foundations, and above the roar Theadora heard shouting. Then the little bowed window of the cabin blew in, spraying glass and water across the floor.
She leapt to her feet and stood helplessly for a moment as the rain and sea spray soaked her. Iris tumbled from her couch, half awake and screaming. “Allah preserve us! We’re sinking! We’re sinking!”
Theadora whirled about and yanked the slave woman to her feet, slapping her as hard as she could. “Be quiet, you foolish woman! We are not sinking! The storm has blown the window in and that is all.”
Over the roar of the wind and the rain and the sea they heard a frantic knocking at the cabin door. The princess yanked the door open and a sailor fell into the room. “Captain’s compliments, Your Highness,” he panted. “I’m to check for any damage. I’ll see that window is boarded over at once.”
“What was that tremendous crash?” demanded Theadora.
The sailor was back on his feet now, and he hesitated before answering. Then, shrugging, he said, “We lost the main mast, my lady, but the storm is almost done with us now, and we’re near dawn.” Then he hurried out.
“Wake the slaves, Iris, and have them clean up this mess so the sailors can make their repairs quickly.” She turned to see Halil sitting straight up in his bed, his eyes wide. “Are we sinking, Mother?”
“No, my lamb,” she forced a laugh. “The last of the storm blew out the window, and gave us all a good fright. That is all.”
Within minutes the repairs had been made to the window. The remaining pieces of glass were carefully removed from the frame and replaced with boards and a curtain. The storm had subsided.
Venturing out onto the deck, Theadora was shocked at the damage. The main mast was indeed gone and so was most of another of the three masts. The sails, or what remained of them, were mere shreds fluttering in the breeze. It was obvious that they would have to rely on the galley slaves for movement. She wondered how those poor souls had survived the night and made a mental note to check for Christians among the rowers so she might buy their freedom. It had been her policy since becoming a mother to buy the freedom of whatever enslaved Christians she came upon. She sent them to freedom in Constantinople.
She turned when she heard the captain’s voice at her side. “Your people are all right, Highness?”
“Yes, thank you. We were warm and dry most of the night. How did the ship’s crew fare?”
“We lost four rowers, and two of my sailors were washed overboard. That damned overseer! Your pardon, Highness. The overseer was told to unchain the galley slaves when the storm hit. He disobeyed orders, and the four we lost were drowned at their benches. As soon as we clean up this mess, the overseer will be brought up for punishment. It will not be a pretty sight, my lady. I advise you to go below.”
“I will, captain, but I am so delighted to be alive to see this dawn that I would stay on deck a while longer.”
The captain grinned with delight. “Your highness will forgive me if I say you are a very brave young woman. I am very proud to sail with you.” Then, flushing at his own boldness, he turned and hurried away.
