'Greetings, sister,' Gulbehar said. Her Turkish was laced with a strong Albanian accent, yet another thing that Sitt Hatun hated about her. 'It is such a lovely day. I thought that I would join you.' Gulbehar motioned to her servants, and they placed cushions on the ground near Sitt Hatun. Gulbehar sat, and two more servants stepped forward to fan her.
'I am pleased to see you,' Sitt Hatun lied. 'I have seen little of you since our husband left. You have not been feeling ill, I hope.'
'No, I have not been ill,' Gulbehar said and smiled to herself. What did that smile mean? Sitt Hatun wondered. 'Little Bayezid has kept me busy, that is all.'
The words were like a slap. Bayezid was Gulbehar's pride and joy, as well as her favourite tool for torturing Sitt Hatun. It was because of Bayezid that Gulbehar enjoyed the title of bas haseki — mother of the heir — and the privileges that went with it. It was because of Bayezid that Sitt Hatun was wife in name only.
'Yes, your son must be quite a handful,' Sitt Hatun said. 'Do the doctors still fear that he is an idiot?' Gulbehar flushed crimson. Bayezid had been dropped when he was still a newborn, and although he had shown no adverse effects, there was a persistent palace rumour that his wits were addled. It was a silly rumour, but it was the best that Sitt Hatun could do.
'No,' Gulbehar replied. 'He is well. In fact, he looks more like his father every day.' As if on cue, the unseen Bayezid began bawling, his loud cries descending from Gulbehar's quarters and echoing throughout the gardens. 'Such a strong voice, like his father's,' she said. 'I suppose that he should be seen to.'
Sitt Hatun nodded, hoping that she might soon be rid of Gulbehar. 'Yes, no doubt he cries for his mother.'
'No doubt,' Gulbehar agreed. She looked around, as if she were searching for something. 'But all of my servants are busy. No matter. You,' she called, pointing to Cicek. 'Bring me my child.' Sitt Hatun's eyes widened. To order another's servants was to take charge of them, but surely Gulbehar would not dare to steal away Sitt Hatun's favourite. Murad would never allow it.
Cicek did not move. 'Do you hear me, girl? Bring me my son,' Gulbehar repeated. Cicek looked to Sitt Hatun, who nodded and looked away as Cicek rose and left. 'You do not mind, do you, sister?' Gulbehar asked Sitt Hatun. 'I will send you a replacement tomorrow. Anyone you wish.'
But this was too much for Sitt Hatun. 'I do not need a replacement,' she spat back as she rose to her feet. 'The Sultan will not permit this.' Sitt Hatun hurried away to her apartments, struggling to hold back her tears. 'This cannot be,' she repeated to herself again and again. Murad will not allow it. He cannot.
But Murad did allow it. In response to Sitt Hatun's angry plea that Cicek be returned to her, he told her that harem politics were not his affair and ordered her to take one of Gulbehar's odalisques in exchange. Sitt Hatun stormed away, furious. She was too angry to even think about letting one of Gulbehar's women, no doubt a spy, into her household. She shut herself in her bedroom and took up her sitar, picking out a nursery song from her childhood in an effort to calm herself. But peace would not come, only fat tears that splashed silently on the finished wood of the sitar. She had no friends in her household now. She was alone.
Alone perhaps, but she was not weak. Sitt Hatun set the sitar aside and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. She could not afford to indulge in sorrow. She did not have the money or the servants that were showered on Gulbehar. But she had her wits, and she would have to use them. Gulbehar had taken Cicek, but perhaps Sitt Hatun could turn this to her own advantage. Cicek would always be faithful to her, and a spy in Gulbehar's household could prove useful. Very useful, if Sitt Hatun's growing suspicions concerning Gulbehar's sudden wealth proved accurate. Sitt Hatun thought once more of Gulbehar's strange half-smile. Perhaps she would now be able to solve the riddle behind that smile. A week passed before Sitt Hatun saw Cicek again. Returning from evening prayers in the harem mosque, she found Cicek in her bedroom, waiting for her. Sitt Hatun moved to embrace her, but Cicek motioned for her to stop.
'I must be quick, My Lady,' Cicek whispered. 'If Yilan learns that I have come to visit you, then there will be trouble for us both.' Sitt Hatun nodded. 'There is a girl outside waiting to speak to you, an odalisque from Gulbehar's household. She has asked for your protection in return for information about Gulbehar. She will not tell me her secret, but I believe that it is important. Will you speak to her?'
'Of course. But what of you?' Sitt Hatun asked. 'Does Yilan treat you well?'
'I have seen nothing of her,' Cicek replied, her voice tired. 'She has placed me among the lowest jariye. I spend my days embroidering and doing laundry. I am not allowed to wait on Gulbehar.' There were tears in Cicek's eyes, and Sitt Hatun could tell that she was sparing her the worst. 'I must go, My Lady.'
Sitt Hatun embraced Cicek, and they clung to one another. 'Thank you, my friend,' Sitt Hatun whispered. 'Now go, and may Allah protect you.'
Cicek left, and seconds later a Polish girl no older than fifteen entered. She wore the same scarlet and gold robes that Sitt Hatun had seen on Gulbehar's odalisques in the garden. This meant that she was a member of Gulbehar's inner household. The girl was beautiful, in her own way. She was long and thin, as if she had been stretched. Her slender arms ended in graceful fingers. Her neck was elongated, and her blonde hair hung nearly to her waist. Her wide eyes were blue, innocent and afraid. She bowed low when she saw Sitt Hatun and did not rise.
'Stand up, girl,' Sitt Hatun ordered, but gently. 'What is it that you have to tell me? Speak freely. You need fear no spies here.'
The girl remained silent, and Sitt Hatun feared she would not speak. But, then she opened her mouth, and the words gushed forth in a torrent. 'Please protect me, My Lady,' the girl began. 'Cicek has told me so many good things about you. She said that I could trust you. Still, I would not ask your protection, but I know that you hate Gulbehar. She would kill me if she knew I had come to you, but I will die anyway without your help. I will tell you my secret, but first, promise to protect me.'
'Protect you from what? From Gulbehar?' The girl nodded vigorously. 'And why should Gulbehar wish you any harm?' The servant girl blushed and lowered her eyes. 'Have you stolen from her?'
'Of course not, My Lady,' the girl protested. 'She is jealous of me.'
'Jealous? I see.' Sitt Hatun was not surprised to hear it. She had experienced Gulbehar's jealousy first hand. But if she was jealous, then it could only mean that this girl had come between Gulbehar and a lover. Who? Surely not Mehmed, far away in Manisa. Sitt Hatun suspected that she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from the girl. 'Do not fear,' Sitt Hatun told her. 'I will protect you. Now, tell me why Gulbehar would be jealous of an odalisque?'
'Because I am gozde,' the girl replied, blushing. To be gozde meant literally to be 'in the eye' of the sultan. It meant that Murad had taken note of the girl, and perhaps even ordered his haznedar to schedule a night with her.
'And how did you, a servant of Gulbehar, come to be gozde?'