CHAPTER TWO

'Our job is to make sure the guests are being entertained and are enjoying themselves,' Oksana stated as she walked up and down, her eyes fixed on each and every one of us. 'I want you all to make no mistakes. Make yourselves look reasonable and presentable. Prince Ahmet, Prince Selim and his son Prince Suleiman shall be attending this feast, we want to impress them! We want to show them that we are more than simple Romani roaming the lower district.'

Oksana spoke the truth, and her words triggered Mirela to exchange looks with her friend Odessa. The two of them were among a group of gypsies in the gardens of Topkapi Palace. They had been assembled here today to practice for the feast, which would be held tomorrow. Once Oksana had finished speaking, Odessa and Mirela approached each other and watched the others begin to take their positions.

'Selim will be here,' Odessa gasped as she glanced around the palace. 'Do you think he is in the palace now?'

'I do not know, Odessa,' Mirela sighed in response. 'I doubt you will not encounter him at the party.'

'You are so negative, Mirela.'

'I speak the truth. Do not expect for him to speak with you. Would you rather hear this from a friend or from a stranger?'

Odessa fell silent and looked up at the sky.

'Selim is old,' she muttered. 'Suleiman is handsome and talented.'

'You are not serious, are you?' Mirela laughed and her eyes met Odessa's; then she realised her friend was serious. Her smile disappeared from her face and she closed her eyes to control her laughter.

'Odessa, Mirela, would you prefer not to take part in the party at all?' Oksana snapped. Mirela's eyes shot open and stared at the middle-aged woman. She had been too busy controlling her laughter and hadn't noticed her approaching them. Mirela's gaze dropped and she bowed her head.

'Forgive us, Oksana,' she mumbled as she walked away to join the group. She felt the back of her head to make sure her bun had not fallen out before dancing with the others. Most of the dance routines they had been taught were twirling around occasionally moving and shaking their hips in a snake-like way.

Behind them were the groups of young men who breathed fire from their sticks and played instruments. Mirela heard the bells on her feet jingling as she tapped them on the ground.

The dancing Romani were unaware of Prince Suleiman's presence. He was on a balcony in the Topkapi Palace playing chess with his uncle Ahmet. Suleiman made a move and Ahmet cocked an eyebrow in response.

'What is that?' He asked, gesturing to the chess board with a foolish face expression.

'A move,' Suleiman replied with his eyes narrowed.

'I have never come across this 'move'.'

'I made it up.'

Ahmet chuckled at his nephew's words and stroked his chin. Suleiman remained silent, staring at his uncle and searching his eyes for a better reaction than the one he had just given.

'A little un fair to use a move your opponent does not know about, don't you think?' Ahmet asked, still smiling. He hoped to remove the cold stern look from Suleiman's face and replace it with a joyful radiant one. He did not succeed.

'Ah yes,' Suleiman commented as he held out his finger to his uncle, 'but you were not expecting it. A Sultan should surprise his enemy with unknown moves.'

Ahmet's thin lips curved into a smile. His head tilted slightly to the left as if to provoke his nephew. And that look; so bedevilling, so displeasing; surely designed to trigger Suleiman's emotions and make the young prince lash out? Just his gaze made Suleiman feel perturbed. Yet he looked so innocent, so aureoles at the same time. Suleiman was not easily fooled by his uncle's looks.

'Do you wish to become Sultan one day?' Ahmet asked as he moved his piece.

'That is a different matter to discuss,' Suleiman said in response to his question, eyeing the piece his uncle had just moved. 'Although I have no serious intentions to become Sultan. I am focused on educating myself as much as I can. It depends if my father is to become Sultan...then I believe I shall be the next.'

Suleiman made his move and looked up at Ahmet, searching for his reaction on his face.

'Yes,' Ahmet agreed as he made his move. 'Your talents have not gone un noticed; your grandfather is pleased with your work, is he not? He favours you out of us all.'

''Favour' is too much of a strong term, uncle. Perhaps 'likes' would describe how he feels about me,' said Suleiman with honesty in his eyes.

'I meant what I said, Suleiman. And deep inside you know it is the truth.'

Suleiman shot a glare at his uncle and watched him move his piece cautiously, oblivious to Suleiman's Queen nearby. He moved the Queen till it was in line with the King.

'Checkmate,' he mumbled and it took a while for Ahmet to realise he had nowhere to go.

'You win,' Ahmet said with a smile. 'I never liked this game much anyway.'

'Perhaps I can teach you to be better. If you are to be Sultan, you will need to be taught skill and efficiency,' was Suleiman's response as he lowered his gaze.

'Enough about Sultans,' Ahmet grumbled. 'Are you looking forward to the party?'

Suleiman's gaze turned to the dancing gypsies outside in the gardens. 'Of course, uncle.'

'Are you looking forward to seeing your father?' Ahmet asked as he called over some servants to tidy away the chess game.

'I do not know what I feel, uncle,' Suleiman sighed as he rested his elbows on the table.

'Tell me when you do, I have some business to discuss with Tarik.' Ahmet got to his feet and left silently, leaving his nephew glancing up at the clear blue skies. His attentions then turned to the dancing Romani outside. They were trying so hard to make sure that everything was perfect for the party, and Suleiman appreciated their efforts.

Later in the afternoon, Suleiman was passing through the corridors when he heard a conversation taking place between his uncle Ahmet and his father's trusted ally Tarik. He couldn't help but press his ear against the door and listen.

'You called for me, Ahmet,' Tarik greeted the Prince as he approached him.

'Indeed I did,' Ahmet spat. Suleiman could tell his uncle was angry, but what about?

'How can I be of service?' Tarik sounded so formal, he sounded to innocent to be in the wrong.

'Have you heard what the heralds say about me, Tarik? It is obvious they favour my brother, they want him to be Sultan. They used to favour me!'

'My apologies, Ahmet, but I do not see how I am connected to this situation?'

'I think you do, I think you are bribing the heralds and telling them to preach about how 'great' Selim is! You are his closest friend and most trusted ally after all.'

Tarik laughed in a bittersweet way at Ahmet's words. Ahmet twitched in frustration when he saw this.

'And why would I do that?' Tarik asked.

'Because you want him to be Sultan! But I tell you now, it is not the people's choice...it is my father's!' Ahmet shouted in Tarik's face.

'This is pathetic, I do not see why I have been summoned here.'

'What is it about me, Tarik? What is it about me which you hate so much? Why can't I be the next Sultan?'

Tarik took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

'Do you really want to know?' He asked.

'That is why I asked,' snapped Ahmet, with fury in his eyes.

'You are weak, Ahmet. Selim is strong. He will make a fine Sultan and shall be remembered for years to come, you will be a poor Sultan and shall be an embarrassment to Constantinople. I do not need to bribe heralds to tell the people of your weakness, they already know. And deep inside, so does your father.'

At first, Ahmet could not believe that Tarik had said that to him. He may be the general of the Constantinople army, leader of the janissaries; but he had no right to take to a Prince like that.

'Get. Out.' Ahmet hissed through clenched teeth.

Suleiman heard footsteps heading towards the door coming from inside the room and immediately pulled away. He quickly walked down the corridor and pretended to be oblivious to the situation. Had that conversation really just taken place? Suleiman had been witness to the truth; his uncle would do anything to be Sultan. Even if it involved making enemies with the general. What is Ahmet did become the Sultan? Would he remove Tarik from his position or worse? Questions like these buzzed around in Suleiman's head, and he knew he would never find out the answers until his grandfather made his decision.

Will Mirela be able to calm Suleiman down? Find out in the next chapter: The Party at Topkapi Palace!