The lady of a sultan, p.19
The Lady of a Sultan, page 19
“It was a unique diversion for me,” he replied as he moved to his seat to the right of the sultan. “Can’t say I was especially effective.”
“He shot as many birds as I did,” Ziyaeddin claimed as he knelt on the cushion at the end of the table.
“Like I said...,” the captain teased, the huge grin on his face making it apparent the two had enjoyed their outing. He turned his attention to Charlotte. “Your Grace, I need a moment to speak with you about our... our schedule.”
“Oh?” she responded as James assisted her to kneel.
“There is a storm approaching from the west. Given the direction of the winds, the tide, and the fair weather, I have decided we must depart for Syros tonight,” he murmured.
A moment of uncertainty had Charlotte darting a glance in the sultan’s direction. She was sure he knew of the change in the plans, but his impassive expression didn’t give away his thoughts on the matter. “But... I cannot be ready to leave that soon,” she argued. “Besides...” She turned first to David and then to James, wondering if they knew of the captain’s plans. Both had their attentions on their food and on Ertuğrul and Sevinc, with whom they seemed to have shared a private joke. “I have accepted His Highness’ invitation to stay for at least two more days,” she added. She stared at Ziyaeddin until he locked gazes with her. His silver eyes seemed to blaze under the midday sun, but she couldn’t discern if they did so in anger or lust or something else. “Unless of course, he has... changed his mind.” She almost said, “Grown bored with me.”
Ziyaeddin’s almost imperceptible shake of his head had Charlotte dipping hers. She had an opportunity right then and there to accept the offer of an early departure from the palace. A chance to continue on her holiday or return to England once they reached Syros.
Or stay two more nights.
She owed Ziyaeddin at least that much. She didn’t wish to risk angering him, nor have him thinking ill of her. The oddest sensation flitted in her chest at the thought of leaving him now.
“Captain, I shall find other means of traveling to Syros,” she said. “Of course, Lord James and Mr. Bennett-Jones—”
“Are welcome to stay here as long as they’d like,” Ziyaeddin stated.
At her mention of their names, the two young men looked up in confusion. “What’s this?” James asked in a whisper.
His gray brows furrowing slightly, Captain Popodopolos glanced between Charlotte and the sultan. “If you’re sure,” he said.
Feeling lighter than she had in days, Charlotte gave him a grin. “I am, Captain. Being here at the palace has been a rather auspicious start to my holiday, and I shouldn’t want it to end too early.” She said this last in a louder voice, intending for everyone at the table to hear it.
“Do I understand you correctly, Your Highness? You’re inviting us to stay?” David asked, hope in his voice.
“I am,” Ziyaeddin replied with a nod.
David exchanged a quick glance with Ertuğrul before he said, “I am honored, Your Highness, and I should like very much if I might continue my study of your palace. Of the plans for your new buildings,” he said with excitement.
“What about you, James?” Charlotte asked, well aware his gaze had settled on Sevinc.
“I... I would be happy to stay,” he replied. “Whilst on our hunt earlier today, I have discovered a number of Ancient Greek sites near here,” he said. “I should like to study them. After my tour of the palace, of course,” he added, his attention darting to Sevinc. “Or perhaps we could go this afternoon.”
Ziyaeddin spread out his arms, his manner entirely different from when they had taken their seats around the table. “Ah, it is settled then. Please, eat,” he said.
Charlotte’s gaze stayed on the sultan until he once again glanced in her direction. One of his brows furrowed in question.
She gave him a grin. “Thank you. And thank you for the gift.”
He straightened on his cushion as he acknowledged her with a nod, and then he resumed eating.
Buoyed by the fair weather and the good food, conversations resumed around the table in three languages until a servant appeared. He stood off to one side until Ziyaeddin finally waved him over.
They exchanged words in Turkish, but Charlotte could tell the sultan was annoyed by the news.
“I must return to the palace,” Ziyaeddin announced, the words said in a growl. “But please, continue eating, and do not stand up on my account.”
Charlotte angled her head to catch his attention as he was about to walk past her. “Is everything all right?” she asked in a whisper.
He leaned down, his lips close to her ear when he said, “I’ve an appointment with my... my minister of agriculture,” he whispered, briefly stumbling on the word for one of his cabinet members. “I will come for you for dinner.”
A frisson skittered down Charlotte’s spine. “I look forward to it, Your Highness.”
She watched him go, and when she was turning her attention back to her plate, she found Sevinc grinning in delight.
Although she blushed when she realized others had noticed the sultan’s attention on her, Charlotte returned Sevinc’s grin and resumed eating.
CHAPTER 24
YOUNG LOVE
Later that afternoon
As David and Ertuğrul set off for the workroom the latter had adopted as his office, Captain Popodopolos and the Greek sailors headed for the Son of Apollo. Only Charlotte, James, and Sevinc remained in the gardens.
During the luncheon, it had become evident to Charlotte that the two young people enjoyed one another’s company. They conversed easily about Ancient Greek artifacts, Roman ruins, and Egyptian pyramids.
“Perhaps Sevinc could take you on that tour of the palace now,” Charlotte suggested, deciding she would like the gardens to herself for a time. “Or mayhap to the Ancient Greek ruins near here.”
James regarded Sevinc for only a moment. “Could you?” he asked. “I understand there must be a chaperone,” he added, as if he expected Sevinc would beg off for that reason.
“It would be my honor, my lord,” she said happily.
Easily rising from his place at the table, James hurried to the other side to assist Sevinc to her feet. “Should I speak with your father? Or... or someone else?” he asked nervously.
She grinned at seeing his anxious manner. “One of the eunuchs will accompany us.”
James’ happy expression faltered for a moment. “Do you mean that barrel-chested man over there whose arms appear to be the size of a ham shank?”
Sevinc followed his line of sight and giggled. “Him, yes,” she said before turning her attention on Charlotte. “May we have your permission to leave the table, Your Grace?”
“You have it,” Charlotte replied. “However, my son must help me up first,” she added.
James held out a hand and easily lifted his mother from her cushion. “Do you wish me to escort you anywhere before we take our leave?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m going to remain in the gardens for a time,” she replied. “You go on.”
Sevinc curtsied and James bowed before he offered his arm to the young lady.
Glancing at it at first with confusion, Sevinc’s face suddenly brightened. “I have seen this done in England,” she murmured. She placed her arm on his, her shoulders lifting as her head dipped with her excitement.
The two walked though the gate and were met by the eunuch, whose dark expression had James halting.
“The sultan’s guest, Lord James, wishes to visit the site of the Greek ruins, and I have been instructed to guide him there,” Sevinc claimed in Turkish.
His brows furrowing, the eunuch regarded the two with suspicion for a moment before he loudly sighed in resignation and waved one beefy arm. “I will follow,” he replied, his voice higher than James would have expected of a man his size.
Sevinc provided directions for a few turns, but once they were off the palace grounds and on the path to the ruins, James knew the way from his time on the hunt earlier that morning.
“Is it true you shot more grouse than my father?” Sevinc asked.
James winced. “I did, but I tried not to,” he claimed. “I do not think the sultan’s mind was on the hunt, though,” he added. “He was...”
“Distracted?” Sevinc offered, when he seemed at a loss for words.
“Yes. I thought perhaps there was a matter of state that had him worried.”
Sevinc sighed. “He has been not himself of late,” she said, struggling with finding the English words to describe her father.
“Is something wrong?” James asked, worry evident in his voice.
“I think he feels his mortality,” she replied. “And he misses... constancy.” She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the right word.”
“Has something happened that has interrupted the constancy of the empire?” James asked, deciding he could reassure her by using the same verbiage.
“Other than the loss of more lands, no,” she replied.
“He does not seem anxious to go to war to keep them,” James murmured.
“He is not. And although owning more lands means more taxes can be collected, the costs of keeping those lands are sometimes higher than the taxes which are collected.”
“You cannot run a country at a deficit,” James agreed. “Just as my brother cannot run the Chichester dukedom at a loss. But I suppose others may not see it that way.”
“Exactly!” Sevinc said with excitement.
James blinked, rather glad he had said something she seemed to find profound. “I suppose running an empire is not much different than running a dukedom,” he hedged. “Although the scale is obviously much larger.”
Sevinc stared up at him in awe. “How is education handled on a dukedom?”
Chuckling, James said, “Well, tutors at first, then public school, then university,” he replied. “But the public school and the university are not run by the dukedom but rather by the state..., uh, by the country,” he explained. “Does the Ottoman Empire have a university?”
She shook her head. “Not yet, but my brother Ertuğrul has designed one based on the one in Paris.”
“Your brother…Ertuğrul. You seem to get along rather well with him, but am I understand you were not raised together?”
Sevinc dipped her head. “He is my twin—”
“Twin?” James interrupted. His eyes narrowed. “There is a resemblance.”
“We have the same eyes. I have been told they are the same as my mother’s were,” Sevinc said with a wan grin. She lowered her voice. “Since our real mother died, Ertuğrul and I were raised by different women in the harem. When we learned we had the same birthdays, it was easy to sort that we were twins, since my Father loved only our mother and no one else for over a year.”
“Why not just tell you?” James asked in confusion.
She shrugged. “I don’t know, and I’ve never asked. Ertuğrul said there must be a reason, but he is never in good stead with our father, so has never broached the subject.”
James furrowed a brow. “Ertuğrul is so knowledgable. So good at what he does… I cannot imagine why he wouldn’t be in good stead with the sultan.”
Sevinc once again dipped her head. “Our mother died the day after giving birth to us. I was the first, and then I think something must have gone wrong. Ertuğrul survived, but just barely,” she explained. “I cannot help but think Baba blames him for her death.”
Wincing, James shook his head. “Hardly fair to blame a babe,” he replied quietly. “Especially when he’s… what? Twenty years old?”
She nodded. “Twenty and the architect of several buildings,” she said proudly. “Baba has already decided that two universities shall be built here in the empire. One in Konya and one in Constantinople.”
“Will you be able to attend one of them?” James asked.
Inhaling to answer, Sevinc suddenly furrowed her dark brows. “Baba has not said,” she replied in a faraway voice.
“You would put all the male students to shame, Sultana Sevinc. You are the most clever woman I have ever met,” he claimed.
Sevinc stared up at him, her steps slowing. “Clever?” she repeated. “Is that...?”
“It’s a compliment, My Sultana,” he replied, hoping to set her mind at ease. His gaze swept the grounds before them. “We’re here,” he said, noticing a line of short columns that had at one time been the bases for much taller versions. “This must have been a temple,” he reasoned, as he led them along the phalanx of short marble cylinders.
“But for which god?” Sevinc asked, one of her brows arching.
James counted the column bases and began pacing out the length of the temple’s foundation. He turned to the right and frowned, seeing only one more column base in the distance. He led them to it, counting his exaggerated paces as he did so. Glancing to his right again, he spotted several that were in line with the first set of columns. Sevinc giggled as she struggled to keep up. “Do you count thirteen on the long sides?”
“Indeed,” James agreed, repeating his pacing for the last side. “I believe there were six on the short sides.” He finally came to a halt and said, “Which means this was likely a temple to Zeus.” He regarded her for a moment. “Did I get it right?”
Sevinc blinked and shrugged. “I do not know,” she replied with a grin. “That’s why I asked you.”
James laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, you minx,” he said before he realized the eunuch had nearly reached them, his expression suggesting James was about to suffer some sort of punishment for having touched the sultana.
He let her go and quickly stepped back, his hands in the air. “Apologies!” he called out.
“Durmak!” Sevinc shouted, holding up one hand in the direction of the eunuch.
The eunuch slowed his pace, his labored breaths loud. He said something in Turkish, but Sevinc shook her head. She said more to the servant, her manner suggesting annoyance. Reluctantly, the eunuch stepped back, but his murderous gaze remained squarely on James.
“Was that because I... because I hugged you?”
Sevinc nodded. “I did not mind... but touching a woman in Baba’s harem is not allowed,” she explained.
“Harem?” he repeated. “How are you—?”
“All of my sisters, our mothers, his sisters before they married, some of their mothers, the female servants, his other concubines... we are all members of his harem,” she explained.
James pulled his head back, which briefly made him appear as if he had a double chin. “Oh,” he finally said. Remembering the sultan’s behavior with his mother, he frowned. “Tell me, Sultana Sevinc. Is my mother part of his harem now?” he asked in a whisper.
Sevinc blinked. “He would like her to be,” she replied. “She would be his favorite. Has been his favorite. Ever since her arrival,” she admitted. “I think he has fallen in love with her.”
James swallowed. “Is she in love with him?”
Her head angling to one side, Sevinc winced. “She misses her family. She says she cannot stay away from England any longer, even though her holiday was supposed to last two years.” She straightened. “Tell me, my lord—”
“James. You can call me James,” he offered.
“James,” she repeated before a wan grin lifted her lips. “Are all women in England as vexing to their husbands as your mother is to my baba? With their... contradictions?”
Blinking, James couldn’t help the burble of laughter that suddenly erupted. “I suppose some are,” he hedged. “But my mother...” He paused and furrowed his brows. “I have never known her to contradict herself. She’s usually very steadfast. Knows exactly what she wants, and sees to it she gets it,” he explained. “Knows exactly what to do, as well. I suppose she’s had to be like that as a duchess. Decisive.”
The two meandered to another set of ruins. “She has told my father she must leave so she can resume her holiday. Then she told him she must return to England because she is needed there,” Sevinc explained. “She told me she had not expected to feel homesick when she left on her holiday, and that is why she wishes to return to England. She...”
Blinking, Sevinc hesitated in saying anything else, although she had been about to tell him what Charlotte had told her over tea. That the duchess was of the opinion the sultan would grow bored with her and turn his attentions to another concubine.
Rather than wait for that day to come, she supposed the duchess was merely guarding her heart. She was sure the woman was in love with her father. She had seen tears in her eyes when they spoke of him.
James scoffed. “She is a mother,” he stated, as if that’s what Sevinc had been about to say. “Of course she is of a mind to think my older brother and his wife need her, but...” He swallowed. “They really don’t. John’s wife Arabella is the daughter of a marquess, and well versed in the responsibilities of a duchess,” he explained. “And, yes, Arabella is due to have a babe by Christmastide, but my mother’s presence won’t be required. I’m quite sure Arabella’s mother will be there.”
“Then you would not mind if your mother stayed here?” Sevinc asked in a quiet voice. “When you resume your holiday?”
His gaze on a marble block, James thought about her query for a moment before he shook his head. “I would not,” he replied, but his expression appeared troubled.
“What is it, James?” she asked, her attention going to the marble block, thinking that perhaps he was bothered by something about it. “It’s Parian marble,” she said, a fingertip tracing one of the visible veins in the stone.
“I wonder how long your father intends to host David and me? I shouldn’t want to overstay our welcome—”
“We do not return to Constantinople for another month or more,” Sevinc interrupted. “Not until it’s too warm to stay here. I am quite sure you would be welcome until then, and maybe even at one of the palaces in Constantinople after that,” she claimed.
“One of the palaces?” he repeated. “How many are there?”
