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Forward

For centuries in the Caucasus, mothers sang a lullaby over their daughters' cradles beginning: 'Live among diamonds and splendour as the wife of the Sultan'. In their eagerness to follow such advice, some girls offered themselves, for nothing, to visiting slave-dealers. Their goal was the Imperial Harem in Constantinople. In the spring of 1520, a group of girls find themselves on their way to the Imperial Harem, very much against their own wishes.

1: Arrival

1-1. The harem

"You are not allowed to die," says the burly sailor. "You are the sultan's slave. You may only die if he orders your death."

His words are addressed to Alexandra, but they make me sit up with a jolt. It's a firm reminder of my ... our ... predicament. Alexandra and I are locked in the hold of a small merchant ship with a dozen other girls. We have been at sea for two days and we've no idea how much longer our journey will take.

Less than a month ago, our lives had been so different. So carefree. That was before the Crimean Tartars came into our towns and villages. Their frequent raids into Polish territory had previously been confined to the borderlands. Well away from where we lived. Besides the Tartars had never raided towns as large as the one where I lived. We had all grown up listening to cautionary tales of the Tartars' lust for loot and slaves. Their reputation for ruthlessness and brutality is notorious. The stories both scared and excited us. After all, they were just stories. Stories our parents told us to make us behave.

Despite the tales of death and kidnapping, both Alexandra and I had always thought we were safe. We lived a long way from the Crimea. The local garrison would surely deter any attack. That false sense of security was shared by everyone where we lived. It's an error for which our parents, and many other innocents, have now paid for with their lives. Alexandra and I could easily have been cut down next to our murdered families, but the Tartars obviously thought two pretty girls in their mid teens would fetch a handsome price in the flesh markets of the Crimea. Enough to justify the trouble of hauling us hundreds of miles to their slave markets.

And so it proved. Two weeks later, Alexandra and I, along with thirty other captured women and children from the same raid, were placed on the auction block in the Black Sea port of Kaffa, and sold. The degrading process was mercifully short, although none of us liked being examined as though we were so much prime meat. At the time I had no idea who had purchased Alexandra and I, and we had already learned that asking questions earned us a beating. For nearly a week we were kept in a large cage, shackled to the dozen other girls who are now our travelling companions. Only after we are all marched onto this ship did we learn that we had been purchased by the Crimean Khan, and that we are being sent as a gift to the new Ottoman sultan in Constantinople. A gift to prove the Khan's fealty to the new ruler of the ever expanding Ottoman Empire.

To my surprise, some of the girls think we are fortunate. Compared to some of the alternative fates for a young slave girl, I suppose we might be considered lucky. But I don't feel lucky. Alexandra is still beside herself with grief. She keeps trying to refuse to eat, in the hope that she'll quickly join her family in the afterlife. But her subterfuge is invariably discovered. It's just such an attempt which angers the man overseeing us in the ship's hold. That's when the sailor makes it clear that we no longer have any control over our lives. We are slaves. Our entire existence belongs to a powerful man we may never meet.

Our journey by sea provides sufficient time for curiosity to overcome our mood of despair. Some of the girls have heard stories about the palace harem. Even if only some of the stories are true, the prospect of living in the sultan's palace seems better than the numerous less savoury alternatives which could have befallen us. Fortunately Alexandra seems to have lost her obsession with dying. At least for now. Instead she vows to make life as difficult as possible for our new lord and master.

It is mid afternoon when the ship docks in Constantinople. We are told to wash and we are given clean clothes. The new clothes are little more than gauzy wraps, although they do a good enough job at hiding our feminine features. A simple belt made of the same material is all that keeps the wrap in place. Despite the wrap's apparent flimsiness, it at least protects our modesty. The wraps are much better than our own clothes, which are so filthy and torn that they are beyond saving. After a thorough inspection by the ship's captain we disembark and are marched in single file through the busy streets. No chains or other restraints this time. It's so different from when we were in Kaffa. The crowds clear a path for us as soon as they see the red-coated guards escorting us. In these crowds it would be easy to escape into the bustling side streets. But where would a young girl go in this city? None of us speak the local language and a fleeing girl dressed only in a flimsy wrap would probably end up in a worse situation than the one she fled. The lack of restraints probably means our guards know an escape attempt would be futile.

After a while we are marched through a large stone gate and into a different world. I've never seen anything so grand. The open space before us can only be the palace grounds of the sultan of the mighty Ottoman Empire. Our destination is not the grand building occupying the middle of the grounds. Instead we are taken towards a smaller building built to one side of the main buildings. Our route passes though another building, which we soon realise houses the kitchens. We can hear a lot of activity, and we can smell cooking from the rooms either side of the narrow passageway we are following. My stomach starts to rumble at the smell of all the food. None of us have had a decent meal since we were captured.

Once through the kitchens we are marched across an enclosed courtyard and towards the building beyond. We stop in front of two huge doors where we are met by three men in blue robes and a woman wearing a dark red costume. The guards leave us in the care of the blue-robed men, who promptly take us inside the building and down some stone stairs into a narrow underground chamber. Without being told, we line up against one wall. There, the woman in red addresses us in our native tongue.

"I am Nigar Kalfa. I help administer this harem. I am here to settle you into your new life in the Imperial Harem. Obey those in authority and you will find life here moderately comfortable and pleasant; cause trouble and you will regret the day you were born. These men are Agas. They are here to protect you and keep order inside the harem. You will obey them as though the sultan himself is speaking."

At Nigar Kalfa's words I can't help look at Alexandra. I have only known Alexandra for three weeks but I already know obedience isn't one of her strong points. The look in her eyes confirms my fear that she is going to cause trouble … and soon.

"Before you are admitted into the harem itself you must be thoroughly cleaned and inspected for infections and disease. The doctor will also verify that you are virgins. Now, undress and then go into that room. You will be provided with new clothes once you have been to the baths."

Several girls, including Alexandra, show a hint of defiance and refuse to obey Nigar Kalfa's order. I don't know what they hope to achieve. I admired Alexandra's strength and determination when we were in the hold of the ship. But there is a right time and place to show defiance, and this is neither the time nor the place. There is no prospect of escape, and angering our new overseers will only result in our being punished. I've tasted the lash enough times since our capture to not want a repeat.

"Undress quickly," orders Nigar Kalfa. "If you don't, then Sümbul Aga will punish you in front of the whole harem."

Nigar Kalfa's threat breaks the resolve of the most of the hesitant girls, and they undress. Alexandra still refuses. We all wait to see what will happen next.

"Do you not understand my words?" asks Nigar Kalfa of Alexandra. "What is your name?"

Alexandra ignores her and folds her arms. But her actions only confirm that she understands Nigar Kalfa's words. This isn't going to end well. Any minute now there will be raised voices and violence.

"Do you think you are the first rebellious slave to enter this harem?" says Nigar Kalfa calmly. "Do you really believe you will be able to defy the rules indefinitely. Many have tried; none have succeeded."

She turns away from Alexandra and addresses the rest of us. "Follow me," she says. Although I undressed as commanded, I hold back with Alexandra as the other girls follow Nigar Kalfa into the room beyond. Since our capture Alexandra is the only person I think of as a friend. I won't desert her now despite my fear of the consequences.

"What are you trying to do, Alexandra?" I ask, once we are alone.

"They killed our families. I will not bow down to them. If they want to throw me into their deepest dungeon, then fine. I have no reason left to live."

"These people didn't kill our families. Our families were killed by the Tartars. If you must blame someone, then blame the Tartars. Vent your anger on them."

"How?" sighs Alexandra.

"I don't know," I reply. "At the moment we are powerless. But who knows what opportunities the future may bring. We are in the palace of the most powerful person in the world."

"What are you still doing here?" interrupts Nigar Kalfa, who has returned to where we are standing.

"What is your name?" she asks, looking at me.

"Maria, mistress," I reply. I don't have Alexandra's courage to openly defy these people.

"Well, Maria, you don't address me as mistress. Like you, I am a slave. You call me by my name, Nigar Kalfa. Now, why are you still here?"

"I was trying to comfort my friend, Nigar Kalfa" I reply.

"And what is your friend's name?" asks Nigar Kalfa.

"Alexandra," replies Alexandra before I can answer.