5-3. The sultan's bed

I quickly realise my mistake and tear my gaze away from Sultan Suleiman's eyes. I'll be on kitchen duty for a month if the Valide ever hears about my failure to keep to the traditional ritual. Fortunately the sultan doesn't seem to mind and I revert to the ritual by dropping to my knees in front of him and kissing the hem of his kaftan. My head remains bowed as I wait for his acknowledgement of my presence. This ritual is a sort of game. The sultan will now either instruct me to stand and share his company, or he will indicate I should leave by pushing me over with his foot. I wait nervously for his response, mindful that it was the Valide rather than the sultan who selected me to come here tonight.

"Come, Gülnihal," says Sultan Suleiman. "Join me over here. You must be hungry."

So far, so good. The sultan's invitation for me to sit and eat means he intends for me to stay for a while. I've avoided the two most embarrassing possible outcomes of this visit … being rejected outright, and only being used to slake the sultan's lust. In training we were told that the Valide expects a girl's visit to the sultan's bedchamber to last for at least an hour. If the duration of the visit is less than that, then the girl has failed in her duty. The girl will always be blamed for any failure, regardless of the circumstances. The whole ritual is unfair, but so are many other aspects of harem life.

I follow Sultan Suleiman to the low table already set with an assortment of foods for a light meal. I'm so busy admiring the beautifully laid out spread that I forget the correct ritual for this situation. I've no excuse for my lapse. I've practised the ritual plenty of times, but my mind goes blank just when it matters the most. I'm forced to improvise and in doing so I find myself sat on the same cushion as the sultan. Fortunately the cushion is large enough for both of us, but I know I've made a mistake in being so forward. He is following the correct ritual … I am not.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," I murmur. "In my excitement I forgot my place. I will move."

"No, Gülnihal," laughs Sultan Suleiman. "Stay where you are. There is room enough for us both. We are all slaves to palace rituals. It is refreshing when someone breaks with tradition."

"You are sultan, Your Majesty," I reply. "You can ignore or change tradition by a simple command."

"It is not as easy as that," replies the sultan in a more serious tone. "I rule a vast empire inhabited by people of different races, cultures and religions. There isn't even a single set of laws across my empire. Tradition is the glue which holds the empire together. Any sultan who goes against tradition faces an uphill battle from many quarters."

"But surely changing a tradition which is only applied within the confines of the palace isn't going to cause the empire to collapse."

"Not the empire. No. But can you imagine the chaos within the palace if there were no set rules for my harem to follow. A girl sent to my room would not know how to prepare, or what to do when she arrives."

"Is that important to you?" I ask. "Does every girl need to arrive in your room having prepared herself to your precise specifications?"

"They aren't my specifications. They were devised many years ago. My mother, and all the valides before her, have refined the rules over the years until they are what they are today."

"So, if I had arrived here without having freshly trimmed my toe nails, you would have been horrified and sent me away?"

"Ha, ha!" laughs Sultan Suleiman. "No. I have been looking forward to your company tonight so much that I think you could have arrived wearing a flour sack and I would have been just as happy to see you."

The sultan's comments take me by surprise. His words imply that it was his choice that I come to his room tonight. The Valide made me believe that she alone had selected me to walk the golden path tonight. I do my best to avoid blushing at Sultan Suleiman's admission, and I say the first thing that comes into my head.

"So you are saying my choice of dress is no better than a flour sack?"

I regret saying those words the moment they are out of my mouth. Sultan Suleiman goes quiet for a moment. To criticise the sultan is to risk his wrath … and his wrath could lead to my execution. I'm about to offer an apology for my hasty words when the sultan replies.

"Not at all, Gülnihal," he replies. "Your choice of dress demonstrates you innate good taste. I was merely implying that your true self cannot be hidden beneath a set of clothes. My words were ill-chosen and I apologise."

Now I am really confused. The sultan has apologised to me … his slave girl. There is nothing in my training that tells me what to do next. Which only proves that intimate encounters cannot follow a set script.

"It is I who should apologise for my outburst," I reply. "I am flattered that you desire my company, although I don't know what I have done to deserve your attention."

"No apology is necessary," replies the sultan. "Rest assured that you have come to my attention more than once. It is your courage which makes you stand out among the other girls of the harem."

"Courage?" I say in surprise. "I have never thought of myself as having courage."

"Ah, but you do. Any hatun can ask for an audience with the Valide, but very few do. When we met in the annex to my mother's suite you were willing to risk her anger by asking her to rescind her order regarding Hürrem. That deed alone requires a level of courage which few girls possess."

"A single act hardly makes me naturally courageous," I reply.

"Even now you display courage," says the sultan. "Few of the girls who come to my bedchamber for the first time are able to talk as we are talking now."

I don't know how to respond to his compliment. We have drifted a long way from the prescribed ritual. If we were following the script, we should be eating the food while Sultan Suleiman makes small talk. I reach for a titbit of food for the sake of doing something to steady my shaking hands. The sultan mirrors my actions, but instead of eating his chosen piece of food himself, he holds it in front of my mouth for me to eat. Without thinking I take a bite and hold the piece of food in my hand in front of his mouth. He carefully eats my offering and we both smile at our actions. We have departed so far from the traditional ritual that we are deep in uncharted waters.

Sitting so close to each other enables many more actions than could be achieved if we were sat facing each other. We repeat the act of feeding each other. This soon leads to more intimate touching … accidental on my part, but I suspect more deliberate on Sultan Suleiman's part. While my emotions urge me towards taking bolder actions, I must never forget the huge disparity in our social status. The sultan may appear willing to break with the traditional ritual, but he wouldn't hesitate to send me away if I overstep the mark.

The ritual requires that I now engage the sultan in conversation to show my suitability to be a potential mother of an Ottoman şehzade. But our actions mean that the opportunity for conversation is reduced to a minimum. Personally I don't mind this change. I don't know how the sultan feels about having executed several of the rebellious Janissary officers today, but I doubt anything I could say would make him feel any better.

The sultan's increasingly intimate attentions are arousing me into a state which I have never experienced before. I'm in danger of losing control of myself even though I know an inappropriate action from me could spell my doom. I don't remember when the sultan unfastened my dress. It doesn't fall off my shoulders at first, and I'm torn between shaking myself free of my dress, or waiting for the sultan to complete the job he has started. I decide to wait and let Sultan Suleiman take the lead.

I wish I could remember every detail of what happens next. Unfortunately, once I'm lost in the heady passion of the moment my usual self-control gives way to wild abandon. I vaguely remember being carried towards the huge bed. My clothes disappear without me noticing, but I think it is I who undresses the sultan. As for the rest, I honestly don't recall. Even that final act of intimacy whereupon I am deprived of my maidenhood is only a hazy memory. I couldn't even say how many times the sultan mounted me. The whole night is a steady repeat of sex followed by periods of sleep.

When the dawn light shows through the huge windows of the sultan's bedroom, I am still in a state of arousal. My wild abandon has given way to more practical sensations about the tender state of several parts of my body. The sultan is still fast asleep and he is lying across me. I can't move without waking him. I stay as still as I can while I make a mental inventory of my various aches and pains. None of my ailments are serious, but I suspect I'll be sporting a few bruises for a while.

Eventually the sultan awakes. He quickly makes the transition between deep sleep and being fully alert. He studies me carefully before moving off me. I take his action as an invitation for me to sit up and prepare to get dressed.

"Good morning, Gülnihal. You may return to the harem," says the sultan.

Sultan Suleiman is saying that he has finished with me, without giving me any indication whether he has been pleased with my company. I must wait until later to see of he sends any gifts to indicate his level of satisfaction with my company.

I quickly gather my clothes, which are scattered on the floor. I risk stopping long enough to slip on my dress, but I don't fasten it until I'm out of the room. I've probably left behind some of the jewellery the Valide had lent me, and I can only hope the sultan will see that those items are returned to the Valide. I find Fatma and Efsun waiting for me in the same small side room where Esme and I once waited for Hürrem. Together we return to the Old Palace and breakfast.

Needless to say I'm bombarded with questions when I return to the harem. I tolerate the usual teasing from the other girls. Hürrem doesn't make an appearance and I decide to wait until later before going to see her. She may claim indifference over my spending the night with Sultan Suleiman, but I know Hürrem well enough to recognise when she is lying. While I have thoroughly enjoyed my time with the sultan, I suspect my happiness may come with a heavy price on my friendship with Hürrem.

I finish breakfast and, at Nigar Kalfa's insistence, I go to the infirmary for a check-up. I'm sporting a number of cuts and bruises, and I'm sore in several places. My ailments aren't due to any maltreatment by the sultan, but more as the consequence of energetic play. The harem doctor gives me some ointment and soon discharges me.

"The Valide wishes to see you at once," says Daye Hatun as soon as I'm out of the infirmary. "Come with me."