5. A suitor's pursuit.
Constantinople, August 1538.
Fresh news arrived today of Sultan Suleiman's military campaign in Moldavia. The reports say the campaign is progressing well, with the sultan's army achieving a succession of minor victories over the forces of the Moldavian ruler, Peter IV Rareş. The Moldavians have apparently retreated behind their fortifications and are now under siege. Popular belief in Constantinople is that the war is nearing its conclusion, and the sultan's campaign will achieve its aims before the summer is over.
I've lived on the frontier with Moldavia for nearly all of my life. I know from experience that such glowing military reports are rarely as good as they seem. I've travelled through parts of Moldavia and seen the strong fortifications standing before the sultan's army. I rejoice in the news of the sultan's victories, but know he still faces considerable obstacles. The Moldavians only need to hold out until the winter snows arrive and the sultan will be forced to abandon his campaign.
The oath I gave Mihrimah and her mother to protect Mihrimah with my life has made me the subject of gossip and jokes throughout the harem. There was no chance of keeping my oath secret from the rest of the harem. Stories and rumours are spreading throughout the harem about how Mihrimah and I met. Nearly all of them are completely untrue. I've heeded Mihrimah's orders and I've outwardly ignored the snide remarks and taunting which some of the girls in the main harem make at my expense. Inwardly, some of the barbs leave me feeling angry and insecure. It's hard for me to resist wanting to take revenge on a couple of the more outspoken girls, but at least it helps me to identify which of the girls are a real threat. For the most part, the girls causing me trouble are relatively harmless. While I'm under Mihrimah's protection, only a girl with a death wish would risk violence. An unprovoked physical attack on me would be regarded as an assault on Mihrimah, resulting in the immediate execution of the offender. Nevertheless I'm careful while I'm walking along the deserted harem corridors at night.
Ayşe and Nira are my closest friends in the harem. They may believe me to be a fool for swearing to protect Mihrimah with my life, but they defend me against any harem girl who makes mischief at my expense. So far I've not been called on to do anything more dangerous than serve as one of Mihrimah's body slaves. I know, however, that the situation could change without warning.
With Sultan Suleiman away on his campaign in Moldavia, the running of the Ottoman Empire is left in the hands of the Grand Vizier, Ayas Mehmed Pasha. When I lived in Chilia, my father spoke of Mehmed Pasha with respect, although I believe father always preferred dealing with his predecessor, Pargali Ibrahim Pasha. But Pargali's ambitions and arrogance proved to be his downfall. Even his decades of close friendship with Sultan Suleiman couldn't protect Pargali from a traitor's death two years ago. It's a cautionary reminder to me about my developing friendship with Mihrimah. It can never be a friendship of equals, and I mustn't forget where the real power lies.
Mihrimah is now of a marriageable age and it's no secret that her mother, Hürrem, is considering likely candidates for a son-in-law. So far Mihrimah has objected to every candidate her mother has proposed. Not that I can blame Mihrimah. The youngest candidate to date is more than twice her age. Unfortunately it's a battle Mihrimah cannot win. The choice of her husband will be a political decision, supposedly for the sole purpose of strengthening the Ottoman dynasty's hold on power over it's diverse empire. However, I'm not so naïve about the murky world of Ottoman politics to fail to notice that all of the candidates are currently in government positions able to promote Hürrem's interests over those of Mahidevran Sultan.
Hürrem's matchmaking attempts to interest Mihrimah in one of her many suitors means that Mihrimah is required to make frequent visits into the city and beyond. Although she never travels outside the palace without an escort of Janissary guards, there are places and times where the presence of her male guards are inappropriate. In such cases, they are often standing guard just outside whichever room we are in. But sometimes the layout of the building means they are stationed further away. That's when I'm expected to fill the role of Mihrimah's secret bodyguard. Not that I carry any form of weapon, and the pretty clothing I'm expected to wear on these occasions isn't conducive to fighting a would-be assassin.
Mihrimah takes at least two of her maids with her when she visits people in the city. At first I thought Nisa and Ayşe would be jealous of me, since I'm always being summoned to attend. But I soon realise these visits aren't as exciting as they may first appear ... at least for a maid. Ayşe, Nisa and I usually spend most of the time standing in the corner of the room waiting patiently for the visit to end. It's not so bad in places shaded from the heat of the summer sun, but in others we risk being overcome by the heat.
Today we are visiting a new suitor for Mihrimah's hand in marriage. This one is a pasha who divorced his wife late last year. I'm surprised Hürrem and Mihrimah are even considering helping his blatant move for greater political power. Even meeting with Mihrimah today will provide him with some political gain.
One of the older women from the harem accompanies us to act as Mihrimah's chaperone. Traditionally the prospective bride and groom would not meet face to face before the wedding, with marriage negotiations handled by intermediaries. Mihrimah, however, insists on meeting her suitors in person, and Hürrem has reluctantly agreed.
The pasha's house is set deep in the countryside, about two hours coach ride from the palace. The house is old and rambling, and we are obliged to leave the Janissary guards some distance from the room our host guides us towards. When we pass through two iron reinforced doors, I realise that we have been escorted into the pasha's personal harem. It's an unusual place to hold a first meeting with a prospective bride, but not outside socially accepted practise. The harem consists of several connected rooms and seems to be home to about fifteen women and girls, all of whom are much younger than the pasha. Most of the women move into one of the other rooms when we arrive, and a curtain is drawn across to hide us from their view. Three girls about my age remain in the room and stand against one of the walls. Ayşe and I initially stand behind Mihrimah until she accepts the pasha's invitation to sit. We then move to stand next to the three girls.
"You have a remarkably large and well maintained harem for someone who lives so far from the city," remarks Mihrimah.
"Do you think so?" replies the pasha. "I've always believed that a man in my position should be able to enjoy the finer things in life. Like Sultan Suleiman, I have accumulated a plentiful supply of female company."
Mihrimah does a much better job than Ayşe at hiding her disbelief at the pasha's words. The man is talking to a princess of the Ottoman dynasty, not some backstreet brothel keeper. Surely the pasha must realise the likely consequences of his rudeness. I have an uneasy sense of danger, even though there is no visible threat. I glance towards the strong doors to the harem through which we entered. They have been closed, blocking any possible escape ... or rescue attempt by the Janissaries. Of course, they could have been closed simply to provide privacy ... but privacy from whom?
Ayşe brings her emotions under control and she resumes her silent pose. Her momentary lapse has distracted the pasha's three girls, and it allows me to change position so that I can reach Mihirimah quickly should the need arise. One of the pasha's girls tries to block my move but I quickly step to one side to retain my better position. The girl's subtle but deliberate move only heightens my sense of alarm. And yet I cannot see any obvious threat.
"If amusing yourself in a large harem are your interests, then why are you seeking my hand in marriage?" asks Mihrimah pointedly. "I'm not some concubine who you can sequester in your home. I have duties to perform on behalf of the Ottoman dynasty, and you cannot deny me my freedom of movement."
"I agree," concedes the pasha. "But nevertheless I am seeking your hand in marriage. We can reside in my city house if this place isn't to your liking."
The man must be a complete idiot if he thinks his proposal will meet with Mihrimah's approval. The discussions end shortly afterwards and it's only with the greatest of reluctance that Mihrimah accepts the pasha's offer of refreshments before we set out on our return journey to Constantinople. My feeling of unease remains and I deliberately stay close to Mihrimah. If Mihrimah senses my concern then she doesn't outwardly show it. My sense of duty means I miss out on the snacks provided for Ayşe and the pasha's three girls.
An hour later our party is assembled once more and we leave the pasha's house bound for Constantinople. We haven't travelled very far before Ayşe starts swaying as though she's about to pass out. A quick look into her eyes tells me that she's been drugged. It's not long before the chaperone and most of the Janissary guards succumb to the same ailment. Mihrimah and I remain unaffected, and fortunately so do three of the guards. We are forced to stop and tend to the sick.
"I'll send a man back to the pasha's house to summon a medic," says one of the unaffected guards.
"No," I reply, speaking out of turn. "The food the pasha provided was drugged. He is a party to whatever trickery is in play. We can't expect any help from him."
The guard looks to Mihrimah for orders, and she contemplates my unsolicited advice before agreeing with my assessment of the situation. It only takes a few moments to confirm that, apart from Mihrimah, those of us still standing didn't eat any of the offered food. In Mihrimah's case, she ate the same food as the pasha. While he might be willing to sacrifice three of his harem girls to the ruse, he's not likely to deliberately poison himself.
"We must do something," says Mihrimah. "They may die without medical help."
"I don't think so," I reply. "I've seen these symptoms before. A few hours of nausea and drowsiness are likely to be the worst they will suffer."
"Then why drug us at all?" asks Mihrimah.
"To disable us for long enough so that you can be captured and the rest of us killed. The pasha intends to kidnap you, my Sultana. We must get you to safety."
To the guards credit, they had already contemplated such an ambush, and two of them had readied their weapons and taken up positions to defend Mihrimah. The sound of several horses approaching from the direction of the house tells us we don't have much time.
We could stand and fight, but against a larger force we would stand little chance of holding them off. The senior guard orders Mihrimah into the coach with the comatose chaperone and Ayşe. Two of the guards stand on the running boards either side of the coach, so as to protect those inside from arrows. The third guard climbs onto the coach driver's seat, pushing the semi-conscious driver onto the coach roof. I'm all but ignored in the rush, and the coach doesn't wait for me. I mount one of the horses standing around its fallen rider. I grab the reigns of a couple of stray mounts as well and set off after the coach.
I soon catch up to the coach and it won't be long before our pursuers do so as well. It would have been better to have abandoned the coach and for all of us to take mounts instead. It was an unfortunate error by the guard, probably due to his failure to realise that Mihrimah is able to ride a horse. At least it means Ayşe, the chaperone and coach driver aren't abandoned to the fate of the stricken guards.
The sound of pursuit isn't far behind us by the time we reach the ford. Our success so far is probably due to our pursuers stopping to deal with those we were forced to abandon. I hope the guards haven't been killed, but I fear that may have been their fate.
The chances of the coach outrunning our pursuers are very slim. The senior guard must have realised this by the time the coach is across the ford. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem able to come up with a better plan.
"Let my Sultana and one other mount these horses and we'll travel downstream until we are clear of pursuit," I call. "The rest of you continue along the road as far as you can."
It's a risky plan but better than the one we are following. Mihrimah decides she's in favour of my suggestion and she orders the guards to comply. The third horse is taken by Ayşe, who has fortunately regained consciousness. The senior guard wants to send one of his men with us instead of Ayşe, but one extra guard isn't going to save us if we are caught. It is far better for the coach to be defended to the best of our ability in order to delay any pursuit of our pursuers' true prey.
We don't waste any more time than strictly necessary. Our pursuers can't be more than a couple of minutes behind us. We don't immediately turn away from the others, so as to leave tracks in the muddy road around the river suggesting we are all together. Once we reach harder ground, Mihrimah, Ayşe and I turn off the road and head into the woods. The coach stops long enough for the guards to disguise our tracks near the road.
It's a frightening gallop through untamed territory, even though Constantinople is little more than an hour's ride away. Our plan succeeds, however, and we finally reach the safety of a village. A message is delivered to the palace and a full regiment of Janissaries sent to retrieve us. The pasha must have realised his plot had failed when his men overtook our coach. We'll never know whether he then came looking for us, or whether he fled straight away. Either way his house and harem have been confiscated and a sizeable price placed on the pasha's head.
As for me, I'm just glad the three of us made it safely back to the Imperial Harem. However, I wish Ayşe would stop telling the other girls how I commanded a squad of Janissaries and effectively saved Mihrimah's life. Mihrimah herself is more circumspect in her show of appreciation, but I'm now the proud owner of a beautiful gold bracelet.