“You are very fortunate, my father,” said Murad stiffly, bowing slightly to Theadora. As he rose and raised his eyes to her she saw that they were cold and scornful. “Are you so sure it is a son my father has given you, princess?” His voice was mocking, and for a moment she thought she would faint.
She drew a deep breath to steady herself and said proudly, “The women of the Cantacuzene always breed strong sons for their husbands, Prince Murad.”
A scornful little smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I shall eagerly await the birth of my half brother, princess.”
Nilufer looked at her younger son, puzzled. Why on earth had he taken such a dislike to Theadora? She was such a sweet girl.
Later, as Theadora relived the incident, she grew angry and furiously threw several pieces of crockery to vent her temper. Her slaves, all carefully chosen by her in the open markets of Bursa, and trained in loyalty and obedience by Iris, were quite surprised. How could he be so cruel, wondered Theadora. Did he expect her to commit suicide because his father was suddenly reminded of her existence? Did he think she enjoyed the lust-filled hours she spent at Orkhan’s mercy? She sighed deeply. Men, she concluded, were but fools.
When her son was born she would devote her energies to him alone. She hoped her husband would leave her alone. She had recently taken to shopping the better slave marts with Iris for the most beautiful virgins available. She had trained the girls to perfection and then presented them to her husband. If she could keep his interests directed toward others, she might escape him. The thought of his hands on her again sent a shudder through her.
She had endured the hours with Orkhan only by pretending that he was Murad. Now she could no longer do that. It was obvious that Murad despised her. Alone in her bed, the slaves dismissed, she allowed herself the luxury of tears, but they were silent tears, for not even dear Iris must suspect her sadness.
The child in her womb kicked vigorously, and Adora placed protective hands over her belly. “You are awake much too late, Halil,” she scolded lovingly. “I suppose you’ll be a rowdy, noisy thing like my brother, Matthew, refusing to go to bed until you drop where you stand.” She smiled at her memory of Matthew. He was the only little boy she had ever known, and they had been together for only a few years. Her position had robbed her even of a childhood.
She gave a watery chuckle. Her baby was not yet born, but she knew for certain that it was a son. How she knew she did not understand, but she was as certain as if she held the child now.
The sultan had said that his son would be called Halil after the great Turkish general who had defeated the Byzantines. Adora had already accustomed herself to the name, and was amused by her husband’s clever slap at her father.
Halil, unlike many royal children, was going to have a childhood. She was determined on that score. He would play with other boys his age, ride, learn archery, and how to use a scimitar. Most important of all, he would have his mother. For she did not intend that he be taken from her to be raised by slaves. He might be an Ottoman prince, but with two much older brothers there was very little chance of his ever ruling, and she would not allow him to be taken away to his own court where he would be debauched by the eunuchs.
It was comforting to think of her baby, but it still did not erase from her mind the look in Murad’s eyes. How he hated her! The silent tears began to flow again. He would never, never know how often she had relived the precious moments they had spent together. He would never know that each time Orkhan kissed her she pretended it was Murad. Her memories had kept her alive, and kept her sane. In one cruel look he had torn those memories from her, and she did not know if she could ever forgive him. What right had he to judge her so harshly?
Two months later, on a hot June morning, the sultan’s youngest wife, Theadora, gave easy birth to a healthy son. One month later the gold balance of the princess’s dowry was paid, and the strategic fortress of Tzympe was deeded to Orkhan.
The sultan was delighted by his little Halil and visited him often. His desire for Theadora, however, had waned during the months of her pregnancy. There were so many beautiful women in the palace, all willing to be his bed partner. Theadora was safe from him now and, once again, she was alone.
PART II
Chapter Seven
Theadora was in a rage. “I have always encouraged Halil to pursue manly sports,” she exclaimed furiously, “but I warned him, Ali Yahya. And I warned that useless body slave of his-who will now receive ten lashes for disobeying me! I told them both that Halil was not yet to ride the stallion Prince Suleiman sent him. Halil is only six! He could have been killed!”
“He is Osman’s grandson, my lady Theadora, and Orkhan’s son. It is a wonder he was not born with spurs already attached to his little heels,” replied the eunuch.
Theadora laughed in spite of herself. Then, sobering, she said, “This is very serious, Ali Yahya. The doctor says Halil may always limp because of the fall. The leg is not healing properly, and it now appears to be a bit shorter than the other leg.”
“Perhaps it is better that way, my princess,” sighed Ali Yahya. “Now that your son is physically imperfect, he will be considered unfit to rule.”
She looked stunned and he was amazed. “How can it be that you have lived among us, my princess, in this palace, and you do not realize that the first thing any new sultan does is to order the execution of his rivals? In most cases, these are his brothers. But our laws do not permit the imperfect to inherit, so be grateful, my princess. Your son will now live a long life. Why do you think Prince Murad has had no children? He knows that his life, and that of any of his sons, are forfeit when Prince Suleiman inherits.”
Suleiman kill her little Halil? Impossible! He adored his little half brother. Spoiled him continually. But she remembered that Suleiman’s eyes could grow cold. She remembered the command in his voice and that he was always obeyed instantly. She also recalled something her father had said long ago, before she had become the sultan’s wife. He had said that the Turks made good mercenaries because they delighted in killing. He said they had no mercy and no pity.
She shuddered. God was, after all, looking after her. When Orkhan died she would be a dead sultan’s wife-a most unenviable position. Halil was all the family she had. And now he was no threat to anyone.
Her father had been deposed three years past, but unlike so many Byzantine emperors who had lost their lives along with their thrones, John Cantacuzene had retired to the monastery of Mistra, near Sparta. With him was her brother, Matthew, who had taken holy orders earlier.
Theadora’s older half sister, Sophia, had come to a violent end when her third husband had caught her with a lover and stabbed them both to death. Helena, now the undisputed empress of Byzantium, behaved as if Theadora barely existed. They might be sisters, but the sultan’s third wife was hardly on a social par with the holy Christian empress of Byzantium!
Theadora smarted under her sister’s contempt. Because Orkhan was almost seventy, Theadora had recently broached the subject with Helena of her possibly retiring to Constantinople when the sultan went to his reward. She had been cruelly rebuffed. Helena claimed that the daughter of the usurper, John Cantacuzene, would hardly be welcome in the city. The same, Helena added, might be said of Orkhan’s widow. The infidels were the greatest enemies of the Byzantines.
Helena conveniently forgot that she too was John Cantacuzene’s daughter. And she overlooked the fact that, had her little sister not been wed to the Ottoman, their father might not have been able to hold onto his throne long enough for Helena to become John Paleaologi’s wife, and empress. Helena was not particularly intelligent. She did not comprehend that what had once been the vast empire of Byzantium had now dwindled to a few sections of the Greek mainland, some cities along the Black Sea, and Constantinople.