By sunrise the next glorious morning, I was restless. Restless and amused. If Ahmet had indeed witnessed my crime, my head would have been served on a platter for breakfast at the Topkapi palace by now. I would learn later that I had misread the signs.
Due to my insomnious inability to sleep when my mind was reveling in delightful confusion, I decided to take a walk. The white, snow-filled streets of Konstantiniyye remained undisturbed except for a few civilians clearing the snow from the paths. The blank canvas of snow was particularly helpful in times like this when I needed answers. The quiet would help me think. But it did not. And instead, I found myself following the booming voice of the local herald.
"Tüm vatandaşların dikkat (attention to all citizens)!" he yelled, "Inside information from the beloved Sultan Bayezid's royal officials state that the Grand Vizier, Hadim Ali Pasha was discreetly murdered in the presence of his most dear companions and foreign guests last night."
A small crowd of people had gathered in front of the wooden stand, shivering in the cold. They listened quietly and when required, murmured a low "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raa jioon (truly to Allah (S.A) we belong and truly, to Him we shall return)".
"As of this hour, no witnesses have come forward with any information on who committed this act of brutality and the motive remains unknown. Citizens are required to report to the Janissary headquarters if any information is found. The reward is 6,000 akçe".
A smile crept upon my lips. I wished every citizen the very best of luck in finding Hadim Ali Pasha's killer. You must understand how adrenalizing it felt. All the citizens standing around me were painstakingly unaware that their mystery murderer could smell their fear and see each and every hair rising on their neck, mere feet away from them. My short walk had enlightened me and put my mind at rest, only for a short while.
On approaching my ev (house), I found a parchment folded neatly and stabbed on my door with an arrow. My name was printed beautifully in bold, black ink. I tore the letter off hastily and once I had escaped the blustery, early morning winds, I resumed my previous position on the bed.
The letter read:
"Dear lady Lysistrata, I am not ashamed to admit I must be blunt with my advances. You must do the honour of joining me for tonight's evening meal at the palace. We have much to discuss. If you fail to attend, I can assure you that you will be found soon enough, if not with unnecessary force which I do not wish to inflict. I hope to see you after the sun sets.
With regards,
Şehzade Ahmet"
The word 'advances' suggested Prince Ahmet had more on his mind than a simple dinner with an air of common courtesy. But his later sentences implied otherwise; the words were significantly more threatening. He had witnessed my damnable actions and still here I was...in the comfort of my home, living in luxury...living...alive. If it was a deal he wished to strike, it would have to be a convincing one. After all, we are all born selfish and to survive, we must embrace that part of ourselves; I lived for myself only and would go to desperate lengths to preserve it.
Restlessness exercised its exasperating power over my body again- the remainder of my morning had been unproductive. No new contract appeared at my doorstep that I could have carried out before the dinner invitation. Even Damat did not come running to me begging desperately to help with a financial situation. Was Ahmet aware of the vizier's involvement in all this? Perhaps 'involvement' was an exaggeration - he was merely a bystander...he had a rubbernecker's gaze in all of this, nothing more. I was the aggressor here. I was the murderer. And then all of a sudden, I felt fear. Fear I hadn't felt since becoming this calculated killer - genuine fear for another human being. I was scared Ahmet had gotten to Damat, the only friend I had in this world. But he too lived in the Palace and would probably be entangled in the murder enquiries along with the other countless viziers in the Sultan's company...that is, if he wasn't dead. A moment of terror passed and I was able to shake off my worries. I was Lysistrata. I disbanded armies of men. I did not have time to waste my thoughts on trivial matters.
Instead, I chose to occupy my hours leading up to the dinner by immersing myself in philosophical law and poetry from Aristophanes and Plato to Yunus Emre and Molla Shemseddin Fenari. My walls were lined with rows of big, leather-bound volumes of literature; a shocking surprise to anyone who rarely entered my premises. I failed to understand the reason behind the surprised gasps. Why so surprised? Logically, a pre-meditated killer would need to have enough knowledge of the outside world to kill its inhabitants, no?
The sky began to darken later on. It was time to make myself presentable for the Şehzade. I chose a crimson, floor-length gown against my better judgement. I had never worn this before but decided that the royal prince deserved to see a glimpse of beautifully intricate, floral appliques on the bodice. That was to be my personal theme of the evening - a delicate rose, not yet blossomed in sexual growth. Of course, that was a facade to hide my nimble fingers which would, in a matter of time, entwine around Ahmet's vulnerable heart and tug it out hungrily.