Thanks for those who read and reviewed the last one. This 'un is a bit graphic and not exactly fun packed, so trigger warnings for violence and death. Not, I hasten to add, Naomi or Emily...I have other plans for them and Kati. But other characters may be more vulnerable at some stage...just saying? Seismic events are about to be set in motion and not all of them are intentional.

Morning at the palace.

Yusuf the boy slave groaned when his stiff neck complained as he woke. An hours sleep had helped his exhaustion a tiny amount, but the cramped space under the kitchen shelf had made sure his neck tendons ached and the muscles cried out in protest as he clambered out. Already he could smell the fresh bread cooking in the huge ovens hauled up the hill to this temporary building to replace the burned out hulks in the original kitchens. The Sultan had ordered the main bakery in the city to replace his fire ruined ovens and there was real resentment in the town as the smaller bakers struggled to keep up with demand. But that was not Yusuf's problem. No...his problem was the burly red faced cook barrelling towards him right now with a look of fury on his face. Getting a beating from Ahmed or Beku, his immediate superiors, was a daily occurrence...one he bore with resigned fortitude. But Kemal the chief cook was quite another story. His beatings could break bones and crush unwary ribs. Yusuf managed by the skin of his teeth to avoid the swung ladle and scamper out of the kitchen, skipping nimbly around the army of servants already making their way into the room to serve breakfast to the palace elite.

He eventually skidded to a halt on the polished floors of the Viziers dining room just in time to see the tasters at work, The three large oval dishes he had laid out in the early hours were now crammed with fresh food. Squab chickens roasted over an open fire lay in delicious steaming rows on a long platter. Quails eggs, hard boiled and peeled, peppers both red and yellow, grapes, fresh bread and various other exotic treats lined the table. Yusuf hid behind a table cloth a few yards away, watching the serious faced men sampling food from each dish. They were meticulous and precise in their labour, being careful not to spoil the presentational glory of the dishes whilst making sure that no item was left unsampled. After all, their lives as well as the Viziers depended on it.

Satisfied that no poison was present, the men bowed to the Viziers senior aide and left the room. Only then did the two huge oak doors at the end of the room open to reveal the man himself in full court dress, fresh from his morning bath. At his sides were another two aides, bowing and scraping deferentially as their master regally proceeded to the table. He was helped onto the long heavily padded couch to one side where he settled like a beach master elephant seal, wheezing slightly but supremely comfortable in his domain. With their master at his table, the courtiers withdrew to the far side of the room to break their own fast. Perhaps their repast was a little less abundant, but not by much. Yusuf's mouth watered as the Vizier took a large chunk of roasted chicken and dipped it into a rich sauce before putting the whole thigh in his mouth. From his position under the table, hidden by the heavy cotton cloth, the boy could watch his masters gorge themselves. He knew that if he was patient, there would be tasty scraps to be stolen, before the kitchen slaves came to clear away. So he waited and watched.

The Vizier, chin greasy from the chicken fat, took a thick white napkin from a silver ring and shook it briefly before wiping his lips. Something must have irritated his nose, because as the cloth was pulled away from his mouth, he sneezed violently and had to wipe his nostrils irritably. Yusuf jumped at the loud snort, almost giving himself away. He gripped the sturdy leg under the table and forced himself to be still. A beating from Kemal would be the least of his worries if he was discovered now.

The Vizier worked his way steadily through several courses. Today was going to be a good day, he decided. The Sultana and Naomi had bowed to the inevitable and tomorrow, with less than four days to go until the announcement, he would be able to issue the order to prepare a private room in his harem for the princess to be taken to. Once there, even before the wedding itself, she would be his creature forever. A captive beauty waiting for her master to decide her fate. A fate he relished revealing to her, bit by crude bit.

He sprinkled salt and pepper liberally on his eggs and meat, stuffing both in his constantly chewing jaws as he contemplated his continued good luck. Once married to the princess, he would not only have a beautiful and compliant wife to rut with nightly, but an exquisite ornament to show off at state occasions. And being married into the royal family would secure his position at court for ever. Whatever the future held, his good fortune would be assured.

Just then there was a muffled commotion at the double doors. Kamal frowned...he always left strict orders that his meals were to be undisturbed by business matters...who was this to upset his routine?

He saw the anxious faces at the doors look his way...it seemed the visitor was important enough for him to be alerted. The Vizier sat up straighter and wiped his face again with the cotton cloth. And again a sneeze threatened to come up from his nose, but he pinched it hard and willed the spasm to pass, drawing a deep inward breath with the cloth pressed hard against his cheeks.

Such a little gesture...so mundane, but akin to signing his own death warrant with an extravagant flourish.

Just as well he had been alerted, because as the doors parted properly, he could see clearly the Sultans personal entourage coming in. Behind them, splendid in peacock blue and gold silk, Selim himself strode purposefully towards him. Now the Vizier was a man not used to sudden movements...his progress through the court and his own offices was always stately, more because of his girth than his status. But this morning, he summoned up a burst of energy and stumbled to his feet. Grand he might be but an unannounced visit from Selim II was always to be feared. The man might be generally cordial and avuncular to his Prime Minister normally, but it was a mood not to be taken for granted. The Sultan literally had the lives of his citizens, no matter how exalted, in the palm of his hand.

Kamals own servants rushed to his side, supporting him as he straightened, but he angrily brushed them aside. It was not wise to reveal too many frailties to the ruler in case he decided at some future date to 'retire' him.

Selim smiled as he got closer and the Viziers face relaxed a little. If this had been a less friendly visit, he would already be accompanied by the elite guard. But Selim was alone apart from his unctuous major domo.

"Sit my old friend" the Sultan said warmly "I was in the gardens when I caught the aroma of that roast bird you have on your table...I broke my fast an hour or two ago with plain bread and water...but you have tempted my stomach with your sumptuous meal?"

Kamal bowed deeply and wondered if there was a coded message in that short sentence. The Sultan was famous for his spartan tastes and perhaps there was a rebuke at his gluttony hidden inside the warm words. But when the stout minister straightened, there was no sign of sarcasm on his lords face. Maybe it was as simple as that?

"Lord...my table is yours of course..please...won't you sit and eat?"

The Sultan smiled and waved a hand in airy dismissal.

"Certainly not Kamal...a man should be permitted to eat his own breakfast in peace...but I will take a portion of that fowl and some salt...just to take the edge off my appetite...I have a meeting with the cursed Persians at noon...I will need all my wits about me to fence with that oily ambassador...such a devious man Vizier..wouldn't you agree?"

The Vizier would have agreed just about anything at that point. If this was just a flying visit, he could finish his breakfast in peace...he'd been planning on some salted eggs to finish.

"Highness...please...whatever you desire...I am honoured by your mere presence"

The Sultan smiled again...a little less warmly this time. A man did not become ruler of most of the civilised world without recognising empty flattery. He reached over and tore off a plump thigh from a roasted squab on the long dish in front of him and sprinkled it liberally with salt and pepper from the silver pots. His courtiers fussed for a second, taking far too many napkins from the table for their masters soon to be greasy fingers.

And then he was gone...waving farewell to Kamal over his shoulder. The Vizier had somewhat lost his appetite by then. In all the years he had worked and served the Sultan, this was the first unannounced visit Selim had ever made to the Viziers apartments. It troubled him, even though his face betrayed nothing of his concern. His expression remained poker like. But he managed three more sweet quails eggs all the same, sprinkled with the same liberal amount of seasoning that his master had used.

XXX

In the women's quarters, Naomi was surprised to see her mother up and around already. Usually, Gia was a later riser than her daughter. Neither the Sultana or her daughter had much of an appetite this fine morning. Naomi was still aching inside at the way time was slipping away from her and her beloved Emi. Just four days now and it seemed that the clock was speeding up, the closer the dreaded day got.

Gia was distracted for a different reason. If what Tomas had told her at dawn was correct, within two hours something dreadful was about to befall the Vizier. There was no turning back now...the deed was done...she just hoped the death toll for other unfortunates was low. Bad enough she had the fat Viziers demise on her conscience...the painful deaths of true innocents was hard to bear. So she had quietly locked herself in small anteroom before leaving her apartment and took out the small carved images of Zeus, Hera, Athena and Artemis she kept secret. She prayed for their individual protection and forgiveness for what was to happen later.

When she finally emerged into the daylight, she felt a little lighter at heart. No one could know what the gods would decide...but she put hers and Naomi's lives into their hands. When it mattered, the old beliefs were still stronger in her.

They strolled in the garden, watching the pale small petals fall from the fruit trees as more fruit ripened above. A beautiful, tranquil place indeed...but Gia knew things were about to change very soon. Emilia and Katerina joined them shortly after bathing. The Sultana wanted her little chicks close by when the grey fox of death entered their gilded hen house…

XXX

In the Viziers offices two hours later, things were still going to plan. He had summoned several trusted aides and issued instructions for the next stage of his scheme. Some to prepare the brides new quarters, some to begin writing proclamations for the provinces about the nuptials. He even had time to write a long and complicated letter to the King of Macedonia regarding some annoying border issue. Just as his stomach rumbled, reminding him that his breakfast had been somewhat curtailed by the unexpected arrival of his monarch...something else took his attention.

It began with a tiny reddish brown mark on his forearm. He stared at it for a second as he stretched to replace his quill pen in the amber holder. He had no recollection of colliding with anything? The mark was quite like a bruise. It did not hurt...at least not then and he would not have even noticed it if his brocade sleeve had not ridden up as he moved. Shrugging, he carried on working. Half an hour after that, his throat began to itch. Remembering the sneezing fit this morning he grumbled to himself...a chill was the last thing he needed. In less than a week he wanted to be fighting fit. The physician had already provided him with the elixir he had sought to make his wedding night memorable. The old man had smirked at him slyly when he passed the phial over.

"My lord...this potion is very effective...your manhood will be as an iron rod for two hours...like a stallion covering his first filly. But be careful only to take three drops in liquid...any more and you will not be able to sit comfortably for the rest of the day?"

Kamal had smirked too then. Just what he needed. His pretty little filly would whimper and moan pitifully as he mounted her over and over again.

"But there is another use for this mixture Minister...I have heard from the Egyptians that a tiny amount given in water to your chosen bed partner before intercourse will increase her desire tenfold too. That is if my lord wishes the girl to enjoy the union?"

Kamal shook his head and grunted in blunt dismissal. The feelings of the princess Naomi were irrelevant. Women were not supposed to enjoy sexual congress...it was a mans right only. Her nights with the pretty dark haired Emilia were already the talk of the servants quarters. The slave Fatima had described their activities in some detail. No...Naomi had enjoyed her youthful passion with the servant girl quite enough. Now she was only to be an obedient and submissive wife.

But with the itching in his nose increasing, he was angry. A chill was the last thing he desired this close to the engagement. He called for the physician again, but when the man arrived he could offer only advice about rest and hot drinks. No use at all. He dismissed the man with a crude oath.

But Kamals problems were only just beginning. His head began to ache abominably. The pressure over his eyes increased until he was forced to lie down on his day bed, body suddenly heavy and aching. If this was a chill, it was a severe one...he cursed his luck, which seemed to have abruptly changed for the worse.

Once again he yelled for the physician, who this time diagnosed a proper fever...probably brought on by overwork and excitement over the coming nuptials. The man was annoyingly vague about how long his recovery would take and the Vizier was on the verge of dismissing him again when his sleeve slipped up an arm again as the man took his pulse. The grey haired man stared at his arm wide eyed.

"My Lord...how long,,,how long have you had that lesion?" he said in a shocked voice.

Kamals heart thumped as he saw how pale the mans face was. He looked down himself at the small bruise he expected to see. But his own face paled when he found that the small reddish mark was now bright crimson and twice the size at least. Not only that but in the centre, surrounded by the irregular edges of the swelling, was a blackened and suppurating core. He had never seen anything like it in his life, and the physician was gradually edging away from him in a way that chilled him to the bone.

"My lord...how long?" the man repeated faintly, from two feet further away. The Viziers body trembled as shock overcame him. What was this abomination?

"A few hours...it was just a small bruise...what is happening to me, fool?"

The man swallowed and looked away nervously.

"I have only seen this once before Minister...in Arabia. It looks very much like..."

He stopped, unable to form the word.

"Like what?" The Vizier shouted, although his voice cracked at the end. Damn this aching throat...he needed water.

"Water man...I...I thirst" he said croakily. The fever which was quickly seizing him had taken over his whole body. He shook like a man immersed in a freezing pond, even though his body burned like a furnace. It was gradually dawning on Kamal that this was indeed very serious. This was no ordinary fever.

The physician passed him a cup of cold water, making sure that their fingers did not touch. Kamal gasped in thanks and swallowed the whole cup in two swallows.

A mistake. The cold liquid hit his churning stomach and was ejected straight back out again, all over the chest of the cringing doctor.

"What IS it man" Kamal gurgled, feeling the ache in his head gradually flood the rest of his body. He was burning up.

"It looks like...like...plague master?" the man choked, wiping his soaked front down with a cloth and staring at Kamal as if he was some sort of monster.

"Plague?" the Vizier said incredulously "..there is no plague in Constantinople...not for a generation?"

Just then, another servant alerted by the shouting ran into the room. Kamal's eyes were blurring and his stomach, irritated by the water, had begun to roll and surge. The mans eyes bulged as he too saw the blooming lesion on his masters arm. Plague might be absent from the city, but it had visited Constantinople many times in the past few hundred years...even the lowliest peasant was terrified of it returning.

"M...master?" the servant said in a trembling voice

Suddenly the Viziers gut spasmed violently. He doubled over and vomited greenish yellow liquid again and again over the expensive furnishings. His fat body jerked and arched like a bow. The physician and servant shrank back in horror. The symptoms he was exhibiting were not typical of plague, but as the man fell to the floor, still contorting, the doctor saw that the lesion on his arm was not the only one...there was one appearing on his back too. Not buboes as true plague would produce, no not them. They would have been under his arms in any case...this was something he had never seen before. It was attacking the Vizier at startling speed. The choking sounds had stopped now...but instead the portly minister was wheezing, face down as if he had terminal pneumonia. Unwilling to get any closer, the two men stood in shock as the symptoms shook their master. The physician was sure that whatever it was, it would be fatal. No one he had ever seen demonstrating such a violent reaction to fever had ever survived. Something had to be done...but what?

In the end, the decision was taken out of his hands. A palace guard, alerted by the noises coming from the Viziers chamber ran in, took one look at the writhing man and the two others staring at him in shock, then immediately ran out, calling out the rest of the guard. Whatever this dreadful thing was that had affected the Vizier, it must not leave this chamber. The Palace Guard was there primarily to protect the royal family after all.

XXX

In minutes, the Viziers chambers were sealed off by heavily armed men. No one was now allowed in or out, which alarmed the two men already inside greatly, but the captain of the guard was stone faced and adamant.

"You're a physician...treat your patient, man. The servant already in there with you can assist. This...whatever it is...must not be allowed to infect the palace...understand?"

It was already way too late for that, but no one knew it then.

XXX

Gia was trying to distract the girls with an anecdote about her teenage years, which because it was funny and simultaneously rather filthy, made Naomi cringe and the twins giggle loudly. The princess had always been embarrassed about Gia's propensity for risqué stories...her mothers uninhibited side was seldom revealed nowadays, but as Naomi grew up, she had been regaled with some real eye openers about the lifestyle the inhabitants of the Sultana's home island enjoyed.

But the story was rudely interrupted by a commotion in the building below the orchards. Men, some armed...all with worried faces, were to be seen running back and forth. The women stared anxiously down the slope at the activity. Loud shouts and the clink of weapons were not a good sign normally.

Just then Tomas appeared at the end of the avenue of blossoming trees. He signalled subtly with his hand to the Sultana, which transformed her face from one of wry amusement to icy resolve in a moment.

"Children" she said briskly "...the time for merriment is over. Things are happening today which are going to change your lives forever. Naomi...run to your rooms, daughter and collect a small black cloth bag which is under your bed. Nothing else mind...no clothing or other unnecessary trinkets. We have little time. Go girl...fetch the bag and come back here to me?"

Naomi knew instantly that the plan her mother had talked about for months was about to start. Sensibly, she didn't argue, but ran lightly down the avenue of trees towards the temporary royal apartments. Emilia and Katerina looked at each other in shock. They had no awareness of the plans Gia and Tomas had put into place, so they had little idea how to react.

"Girls...you do not need to fetch anything...you have little enough of value anyway and whatever you need for your long journey..." they stared at her blankly at that revelation, "...will be provided. Naomi will be back in a moment and I need you both to do exactly as Tomas and I say...understood?"

Kati opened her mouth to ask about Fatima...but the look in Gia's eyes was enough to stop the words forming. Whatever was happening now was obviously much bigger than her erotic dalliance with a slave girl, no matter how pleasant. She had a second or two to feel regret that she would not be sleeping with the sinuous Egyptian again before Naomi reappeared, holding a small cloth bag no bigger than a mans purse in her hand.

"Mother...there are palace guards everywhere...I barely made it back without being seen?..." she gasped, but Gia was already walking away, towards the waiting Tomas. The time for talking was over.

XXX

Tomas led them past some low plum trees and between two large flowering bushes. Pulling back some thick ivy, they could then see a dusty and overgrown door set into reddish brickwork. The building behind the door was similarly unused...it looked like a the sort of construction used by the gardeners to store tools.

And so it proved...as Tomas drew back the heavy door, Gia led the silent and scared girls into a dark space with scythes and shears stacked against one of the bare brick walls. He headed into the far corner of the cobweb strewn room and pulled back a sheet of dark material. One by one he took from the pile a succession of grey and stained robes, each with a hood. They smelled like the garden store, musty and damp, but the worried look on the adults faces was enough to silence any protests. Obediently, the three girls and Gia put the old robes on over their fine court clothing. Finally, the Nubian took four pairs of rough looking peasant sandals from the same place and indicated that they should discard their fine silk slippers for this footwear. Again without dissent, Gia and the girls obeyed. Her mothers words from before echoed in Naomi's ears. Do exactly as they say and all of them would be free of the gruesome Vizier for ever. Once dressed in the peasant garb, the girls waited as Tomas pushed the pairs of fancy slippers into a drum of black oil standing by the door. No one would discover them for weeks...plenty of time if they were lucky. Then the man rubbed his oily hands in the dirt floor and began to smear the mixture onto Gia's face. She allowed this liberty silently, which astonished Naomi...she had never, in all her sixteen years, seen the eunuch physically touch her mother. Even more astonishment followed as Gia replicated his actions with the girls one at a time.

"If we are to pass as peasants girls, a dirty face is a small price to pay. Those smooth and uncalloused hands are enough of a clue...no point in your pretty faces confirming the deceit?"

Then, without waiting for the girls to respond to their mother, the tall black man pushed aside a long rack of woven fruit baskets. The metal legs made a shrieking sound as he did, but he knew any guards would be many feet away...not near enough to hear the sound.

Behind the rack was another door, smaller by half than the outer one and even more dusty and cobwebbed. Gia helped him clear the lock and he then produced a small metal key, slipping it inside the brass lock and turning it. It squeaked alarmingly as he did and all four cringed at the possibility that it might snap in the pad lock, but it finally gave way. Pushing the door fully open, Tomas reached under the basket rack and pulled out a thick stake with bound cloth around one end. It smelled of oil and when Tomas flicked a spark from a flint he took from his pocket, it flared into life.

Ushering them inside, Tomas followed quickly, holding the lighted torch above his head. The corridor which stretched out in front of them was long but high enough for them to stand upright, even Tomas. He pushed the door firmly closed behind him, locking it and handing Gia the torch as he located, then put in place a sturdy crossbeam which obviously acted as a barricade against anyone following. They waited until Tomas had broken off the key in the lock before Gia handed him the spluttering torch back. Then he began to stride quickly down the long and winding corridor, which quickly started to drop downhill steeply. Within a few minutes, it was obvious to all that the corridor led right down, under the palace. For another few minutes Tomas led them silently. Then he stopped and waited for them to catch up.

"My ladies...we will shortly be at the bottom of this long disused tunnel. It leads to another door in the walls, which will take us to the water side. I have arranged for a barge to be waiting for us. With the things now happening in the palace having alerted the Imperial Guard, we will have to be very, very careful from now on. Unfriendly eyes and ears are all around. Just one curious glance is all it takes for us to be discovered. Then we will all be taken back to the palace in chains to be executed. There will be no forgiveness from your father Naomi for this crime. The Vizier is either dead or dying in agony at this very moment. We have a short while before confusion turns to realisation. When that happens, the whole palace will be looking for a missing queen and her daughter?"

Naomi shivered in fear. The Vizier dead? What in the gods names had her mother and Tomas done?

But she was clever enough not to ask right now. Emi and Kati trembled with the same fear beside her. As mere servant girls, they would be cruelly dispatched along with their mistress if the plot was uncovered too soon. Fear made them easy to cow.

Getting no objections, Tomas walked another ten steps then snuffed out the torch, leaving them in pitch darkness. But almost immediately light flooded the dank corridor as the outer door was pushed open.

They could hear the sound of the water as they emerged, blinking in the sunlight. Above them, the palace walls rose sheer a hundred feet or more...and right in front of them, moored against the bank, was a barge so filthy, so old, it seemed a miracle that it remained afloat. On board was a man similarly decrepit. His white, stained beard hung down to his belt and his stomach was so large, it rivalled even the Viziers paunch. But unlike the Vizier, his clothes were almost falling apart. Emi wrinkled her nose as the stench of old fish guts reached her nose. He reeked of it.

Gia saw the expression and rested her hand on the small twins shoulder.

"The vessel will do fine Emi...and the master too. We could hardly use the Royal Barge, now could we child?"

The comment even made Tomas smile… at least for a second. But then the grim expression he had worn since the orchard returned.

"Come my children" he said kindly "...Abdul is waiting...we have a long river journey before nightfall...and then onto a bigger vessel inshallah. The palace will be alive with rumours by now...best we are at sea before someone clever adds the numbers and comes up with the right total?"

The old man held out a grimy hand as they boarded, but none of them protested at the fresh dirt it left on their clean palms. As Gia had said, it seemed a small price to pay for freedom.

XXX

Two hours later, the old sailing barge was cutting steadily through thinning local boat traffic and the palace was becoming a distant blur on the horizon. Still hooded, the women and Tomas watched it disappear into the distance from the stern with varying degrees of hope in their hearts. Ahead lie the Bosphorus strait...then the huge Marmaris inland sea.

XXX

Back in the Topkapi, things were not quite as calm. The Vizier had by now subsided into a gurgling heap on the floor. The physician and reluctant servant had managed to roll him onto his back, then cover him with a light wall hanging which they had ripped from its holder. The man was purple faced and breathing shallowly, but they were grateful, both for him and themselves, that he appeared to have lost consciousness. They stood a few feet away, fearful of approaching closer while he still breathed. No one was in any doubt that the Vizier was already a dead man...it was just that his heart refused to accept it yet. Having scrupulously washed his hands several times after tearing off the water stained tunic top the Vizier had vomited over, the physician prayed he had kept the toxins off his skin, but unknown to him, tiny spores from the Viziers coughing had already entered his lungs. It would be a slower and more subtle infection that eventually killed him, but just as certain.

From the doorway, the captain of the guard shouted questions and demanded answers from the occupants of the death room. The Vizier was clearly beyond help, but the guard was concerned now about further contamination. Sealed, the room was as safe as he could make it, but he needed to know if anyone else had entered and left recently. Unfortunately, the physician did not know, although the nervous servant thought it had been some time since anyone else had disturbed the Viziers peace.

Again, unknown to the guard captain or anyone else at that time, the crime scene was not the Viziers office at all. Down in the room where the fat minister had breakfasted, the cutlery, dishes and linen had already been cleared away. Under the small table at the end of the room, a few chewed fowl bones were the only evidence that the slave boy Yusuf had managed to steal some scraps from the Viziers table after the room had emptied. In the wash rooms, servants had diligently scrubbed the plates and cutlery in hot water and soap. Most of the residual toxins were washed down the sinks and away into the sewers. But enough had survived to infect a dozen unknowing victims. It would be several hours until the first of them began to cough and sneeze...

But worse, much worse...above the Viziers apartments the Sultan himself was taking command of the quarantine exercise, sitting on his silken chair surrounded by his trusted aides plus a few chosen guards. His infection had been primary...straight from the pure toxic dust in the condiment pots. It was only an hour after Kamal collapsed that Selim began to shift uneasily in his seat, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. It was only then that his mind went back to the moment he had shared the Viziers breakfast. Cold dread filled his mind. Surely not…?

The palace resembled an overturned termite nest at that point. Hundreds of courtiers, officials, servants and slaves milled around, uncertain where safety lay. The area around the Viziers apartments was the only part deserted. The palace guard stood in rows at every entrance and exit, ensuring no one entered or left. Plague...or whatever dreadful variant of that ancient disease this was, ranked number one in peoples minds as the most implacable killer of men in the known world. If it truly was the black death, everyone had a tale to tell about previous outbreaks. Families handed the stories down through the generations. Children sat at their fathers feet and listened in horror as the chilling consequences of a serious outbreak were described. The whole city, within two hours of news of the Viziers collapse, was holding its breath...both literally and figuratively.

Ten miles away, still gently rolling as the tide tried to push the barge sideways against the pull of the unfurled sails, Naomi and Emilia sat in the stern of the old boat, clutching each other for comfort. Gia, Tomas and Kati had gone below to make coffee on the old mans galley stove. The vessel might be stinking and disgusting, but the fugitives would need something warm inside them and the stimulating effect of the dark liquid would raise their spirits a little...at least that was the hope.

Gia knew it was almost certain that their absence had been noted by now. She counted on the confusion and fear no doubt filling the palace giving them a few hours start. If the Sultan sent his trusted men to the women's chambers to escort them to 'safety' she thought it likely that, seeing the rooms empty and no belongings or clothes taken, they would report back that Tomas, her faithful retainer, had beaten them to it. Another hour or two added to their flight being noticed was valuable beyond price...if they were lucky.

In fact, their 'luck' was about to improve...although not for the reasons Gia pondered as the boat continued to head down the Bosphorus towards the mouth of the Marmaris sea. Once through the strait, they would hug the northern coast until they reached a small fishing village where Tomas had arranged for a fast north African dhow to meet them, Men from his village had promised...for gold as well as loyalty to their countryman... to transport the royal cargo onto its final destination. The Ottoman navy was large and well organised, but with literally thousands of identical trading vessels plying the inland sea, there was a good chance they could slip out of Marmaris and into the great Aegean Sea. Once in that vast expanse of water, they might just make it.

But back in the palace, something grim and implacable was coursing through unknowing veins. The Sultan was now certain that he had contracted something similar to the Vizier. Again, he cursed his impulse to snatch a morsel of food from the fat old fools breakfast table. The headache he had developed was deep and painful...but more worrying by far was the itchy rash on his neck. Taking a bejewelled looking-glass from his desk, he stared in horror at the red mark with its black centre. Selim was a clever man...a ruler of millions. He knew in his heart that the disease had claimed him. The story his palace guards had told him about Kamal's rapid decline into unconsciousness scared him almost witless. But knowing the turmoil that would ensue if he merely accepted his fate, he immediately sent for his sons. Murad, his eldest would succeed him if he truly was to meet his maker this day. But he was well aware given the turmoil and fratricide that occurred after his own ascension, that his other sons would be terrified of the consequences of him dying so abruptly. In normal times, his Vizier...the most powerful man in the caliphate apart from Selim...could be relied upon to see the succession through as smoothly as possible. But with Kamal on the verge of death himself, matters were far from normal.

As the fever began to rage higher in him, Selim insisted that his 6 sons attend him on the other side of a thin silk screen. He had no idea if plague was the thing that was afflicting him, but if the physicians were to be believed, if his sons did not breath the same air as him, they would not be infected too.

XXX

"What is to become of us, my angel" Emi asked, her pretty face smudged with the oily dirt Tomas had smeared on her earlier. Naomi smiled down at her beautiful lover. The dirt only managed to increase her beauty, the princess thought. Those deep brown eyes, worried as they were, still glowed with life. Her heart thumped as she considered just how close they had come to being parted for ever. In danger they might be and this perilous journey was far from over, but just by Emi slipping her small hand under her own, the prospect did not seem as fraught. Naomi knew that whatever happened now, would happen to both of them. Dying was still something she dreaded, but at least she had now tasted real love. The Vizier would never be her husband...not now.

"I don't know my love...but Tomas and mama have guided us well so far, have they not? We have a chance to escape what was planned for us. Kamal is dead or dying and we have a good head start. Mama told me when you were feeling unwell (seasickness had affected Emilia the most so far) that your family has been taken to safety too?"

Emilia's face showed her relief. With the drama of the past morning, she had guiltily realised only an hour ago that the palace investigators would be visiting her mama and papa very soon. She smiled.

"I have much to thank Tomas and the Sultana for...they have placed themselves in great danger to save you...and us. I will never be able to thank them. I have my beautiful princess...what more could a poor servant girl ask for?"

Naomi opened her mouth to ask what Emi meant by that, then noticed the glint in those dark eyes and the upturn of her pretty lips. She was being teased. But there was a serious point in that remark. Princess…?

"No more the princess darling Emilia. I am but a poor servant girl like you now? I peeked in the bag mama told me to fetch and there is certainly enough gold and jewellery in there to keep us in food and shelter for a good while...wherever we land. But no more rubies, silk sheets and scraping servants for me or mama. Now we'll have to learn to live like normal people?"

Emi looked up at her quizzically.

"Will that be hard for you my pri...my love?"

Naomi shook her head decisively.

"No...and it never was Emi...we cannot help what situation we are born into, but being a princess was never that important to me. Meeting you has taught me that money cannot buy the sort of happiness you give me. I love you with all my heart...and however long the gods grant us life, I want to spend every second of it with you. You are my princess Emi...the queen of my heart"

Tears formed in the eyes of her lover as she finished.

"I feel the same way Naomi, my love. It feels like I started living the moment we met. Everything before that is grey and distant. If our lives are to be short...it is enough that we have each other…?"

The two girls moved closer and wrapped possessive arms round each other as they watched the sun dropping towards the horizon. Gia was just coming up the galley steps and stopped with the coffee pot in her hand as she caught sight of them. A feeling of sudden happiness made tears come to her own eyes. Whatever the future held, her girls...Kati included...were together. It was more than she had dared hope for even yesterday

XXX

It was Tomas of course, who noticed. The sun was now a dim red line across the horizon. Stars twinkled above them like a million individual diamonds in the darkening skies. He watched the shoreline closely, hooded and seeming to an observer like he was slumbering. But the lights of the small hamlets along the rocky coast were definitely getting closer.

Which was wrong.

He had plotted this journey out himself in the great library, while his mistress sat with illustrated drawings of her home island. Plotted it and measured it meticulously. They should not be heading into shore for another two hours at least. Something was wrong. Without giving any indication that he was awake, he subtly slipped a two edged dagger into his palm. The master of this vessel had been well paid for his help. But there was always someone ready to reward more….

OK, long chapter. Hope you liked it. Not much Naomily in it I know, but patience...there will be lots of smutty roly poly later...hopefully.

BTW, the Sultan Selim II did die in 1574, but not from plague...or anthrax, which is actually the disease I used as the mysterious poison. Nasty stuff...usually 80% fatal if inhaled. The spores are long lived and easily transmitted. In the sixteenth century, there would have been no physician on earth who could treat it...or even offer palliative care. A truly horrible way to die. Perfect for the Vizier, yes? Nobody puts Naomi in the corner...right? (sorry Dirty Dancing fans!)