They were heedless of hardships of any kind. Their duty was to serve the sultan alone and to depend on him personally, to dedicate their lives to his military service. Like monks, they were forbidden to marry or to own property. For all this, they were paid on a scale higher than any other military unit in any army.

The great religious sheikh, Haji Bektash, gave the Janissaries his blessing and presented them with their standard. It was the crescent moon and the double-bladed sword of Osman emblazoned on scarlet silk. Predicting the Janissaries’ future, the elderly sheikh said, “Your visage shall be bright and shining, its arm strong, its sword keen, its arrow sharp-pointed. You will be victorious in every battle and will never return except in triumph.” He then presented the new force with their white-felt caps, each of which was adorned with a wooden spoon instead of a pom-pom.

The spoon, along with a big stew pot, symbolized the higher standard of living of the Janissaries compared with other military units. The titles of their officers were taken from the kitchen. First Maker of Soup, First Cook, First Carrier of Water. The great black pot was not to be used only for cooking. In later centuries the pot was turned over and drummed upon when the elite corps was displeased with the sultan. It was also used to measure the Janissaries’ share of booty.

In western Europe there arose great indignation that the Turks would impose on their Christian subjects what in effect amounted to a blood tax. It was immoral to tear young boys from their families, forcing them to follow an alien religion and to serve a barbaric master.

Murad laughed at the outcry. His Christian counterparts were often far crueler to their Muslim or, for that matter, their Christian captives. His new contingent amounted to fewer than five hundred fighting men and perhaps that same number of young trainees. He had larger units of hired Christian mercenaries now fighting against their fellow Christians in the Balkans! At no time were his armies without large numbers of Christians fighting for him against other Christians. The Corp of Janissaries would grow, but eventually the Christian peasants would embrace Islam rather than lose their sturdy sons who were needed to help work the land.

Murad and his people were now faced with an enormous challenge. The Ottomans were a nomadic people who had come out of the dawn of time to wander the steppes of non-Muslim central Asia. As they had moved westward they had assimilated other cultures, had even been enslaved and converted to Islam under the Abbasid caliphate. In Baghdad they had been trained as soldiers and administrators, raised far above the common domestic slave. Hence they felt neither shame nor fear of slavery as did the Christians. The power of the Ottomans grew until they overthrew their masters and replaced them with a slave dynasty of their own. Still, they were nomads. And again they moved west, conquering everything in their path.

Now, however, they had begun to think of settling down. Now they must become rulers of men rather than shepherds of sheep. Other nomadic groups had tried and failed: the Avars, the Huns, the Mongols.

The mistake these others had made had been in believing that by leaving the conquered on their own land to remain economically productive they would cooperate with their conquerers. The conquered did not cooperate. They instead became unproductive parasites. This resulted in the rapid decline and fall of most nomad empires.

The Ottomans were not going to be flim-flammed by a wily peasantry. Already they had evolved the practice of training human watchdogs to keep their human cattle obedient and their enemies at bay. The enslaved Janissaries were the beginning. Now there rose a vast civil service made up of superior slaves loyal to the sultan alone. The Christian subjects of the sultan found their lives being administered by men who were almost all Christians. Those who did not produce, from the level of the peasantry on upward, were quickly replaced. And Murad was free to pursue his military conquests and enjoy his growing family.

Though he kept a harem and was not averse to using other women, his tendency was to remain relatively monogamous. He was true to Adora. She did not begrudge him his other women, provided his interest in the harem remained mild.

Five months after Bajazet’s birth, Murad’s seed again took root in the fertile soil of Adora’s womb. And when their son was but two months past his first birthday he was joined in his nursery by twin brothers, Osman and Orkhan. The sultan was jubilant. He had three healthy sons! Surely Allah had showered him with blessings.

Thrice-secure, Adora sought out Ali Yahya and asked to be free from pregnancy for a time. The master of the sultan’s household agreed with the princess that to retain Murad’s interest now she must again become more the lover and less the mother. As her sons were all outrageously strong and healthy, he saw no reason for her to bear children until she wanted to.

To amuse her lord, Adora learned the sensual oriental dances currently being done by a troupe of Egyptian dancers who were performing in the city. Each day she practiced with her teacher, Leila, a full-breasted, full-hipped woman with almond-shaped gold eyes. After a few weeks, Leila said, “You could earn your living at this, Highness, and have not one, but half a dozen sultans at your feet.”

Theadora laughed. “I desire no one but my lord Murad, Leila. For him alone will I dance.”

“He should be honored, Highness, for never have I seen anyone perform with such grace, such passion. How well you feel the music! Dance for him tomorrow as you have danced today and it is he who will be your slave! You will rouse his desire as no woman ever has! I can teach you no more.”

Theadora was pleased. On the morrow Murad would return from two months at the front, and Adora had planned his homecoming in meticulous detail. When he arrived at the nearly completed Island Serai she greeted him lovingly, her three sons about her like chicks about a hen, the twins just barely able to stand. This reminded him, should he chance to have forgotten, of her position in his life.

The children were taken by their nurses and Adora escorted her lord to his own quarters and helped remove his travel-stained garments. “Your bath awaits you, my lord,” she said. “I have prepared an evening which I hope will please you. I have a small surprise.”

Before he could answer, she was gone. And he found himself in his bath, attended by six of the most exquisite, nubile young girls he had ever seen, all completely naked. They went calmly about the job of washing and shaving him. He was gently patted dry with fluffy towels and then massaged with sweet oils. His natural lust began to exhibit itself in a delicious tingling. But, before he could take advantage of the delights around him, the skillful fingers of the pretty masseuse put him to sleep.

An hour later he awakened, delightfully refreshed, to find a fully garbed older woman offering him a tiny cup of hot sweet coffee. He gulped it down. Standing up, he was quickly surrounded by slaves who anointed his body with musk and then dressed him in a deep-blue velvet robe embroidered at the hem, wrists, and collar in silver thread, turquoises and pearls. The robe was closed with silver frogs over turquoise buttons. It was lined inside in alternating bands of silk and soft fur. The effect on his naked skin was sensuous and delightful. His slippers were of lambskin, dyed blue to match his robe and lined with lambswool. A gold chain with a jeweled medallion was put over his neck. Several rings-a large baroque pearl, a sapphire, and a turquoise-were slipped on his fingers.

The older woman who had given him the coffee seemed to be supervising, and when he was dressed she said, “If my lord will follow me, his meal and the entertainment await him.”

“Where is the Lady Theadora?”

“She will join you eventually, master. In the meantime she asks that you eat and pleasure yourself as it pleases you, my lord.”

The woman led him into his salon where a low table had been set up. He seated himself amid the brightly colored cushions and was immediately joined by two beautiful girls. One speared raw oysters and placed them in his waiting mouth. The other carefully touched the side of his mouth with a linen napkin, stopping the juices before they ran.

Never had any Ottoman been served in such a luxurious manner. These were Byzantine customs, and Murad decided he liked them very much. The girls who served him were nude from the waist up, and their pink silk trousers were so sheer that nothing was left to imagination. Both were blue-eyed blondes. Their hair had been braided into single thick braids, their heads topped with thin gold chains. A single teardrop pearl lay in the center of each of their foreheads.

A tass kebab followed the oysters: tender chunks of baby lamb with cooked onion and love apples on a bed of rice pilaf. Now the other girl fed him while the first girl plied the napkin. She mopped the juices of the meal up with pieces of soft, flat bread which she then fed him. Honeyed yogurt and coffee ended his meal. Murad was enjoying himself hugely. He was clean, warm, relaxed, and well fed. He was beginning to feel quite mellow.

The dishes were cleared away and the entertainment began. Sprawled back amid the pillows, each arm cradling a girl, he chuckled as a group of small dogs was put through their paces by their elderly trainer. He very much enjoyed the three female jugglers who also did acrobatics.

Then, from behind a carved screen, music began. Six maidens in red and gold skirts and blouses began to dance for him.

They danced well, but suddenly the tempo of the music shifted subtly and the six girls disappeared. One veiled dancer appeared, swathed in black, silver, and gold silks. She clicked her brass finger tals in a challenge to the hidden musicians. Slowly and sensually, the woman’s body weaved to the music. The sultan realized, as the woman discarded the first silk, that she was about to do the dance of the veils.

The first veil had covered her hair which was in itself a long, dark, shining veil. The second and third veils bared her back and then her breasts. Snowy, coral-tipped cones of firm flesh moved provocatively as she danced.

The sultan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the twin temptations and he leaned forward, completely unaware that his hands were hungrily kneading a breast belonging to each of his companions. As the dancer excited him further he felt his manhood rising hard and throbbing beneath his luxurious robe. He cruelly pinched the nipples of the breasts, but the young slavegirls dared not cry out for fear of displeasing their master.

The music became more insinuating, and the dancer writhed her beautiful body in an obvious imitation of aroused passion. Beneath the shimmering veils that were falling one by one, her legs were becoming visible.

As his desire mounted, he wondered who she was and why she had never danced for him before. She must be new in the harem. Was the face as fair as the body? Releasing his two companions from his cruel grasp and sitting cross-legged, he allowed his hunger to take complete possession of him. The two maidens were dismissed with a wave of his hand, and he was alone with the mysterious dancer.

The music began to mount in intensity. The dancer whirled, the remaining silks billowing out like the petals of a flower about its stem. The woman moved nearer, teasingly brushing him with the nipples of her full breasts. He could feel the heat of her lovely body, and smell her scent. It was hauntingly familiar. Her eyes above the black veil glittered like jewels in the flickering lamplight and he reached for her. With a low laugh, she eluded him.

His black eyes narrowed dangerously, but then his mouth twisted in a smile. He would let her finish her performance. But then… The woman’s lush body weaved the taunting final movements of the dance. Suddenly all the remaining veils but the one that hid her face were gone. She stood proudly naked above him for a moment before sinking to the floor in a gesture of submission.

He rose, his whole body throbbing with lust. Walking over to the dancer, he raised her and tore the dark veil from her face.

“Adora!” His ragged voice was incredulous.

“Did I please you, my lord?”

He pushed her to the cushions and, tearing his robe open, flung himself on her. Her warm hands caught at his aching organ, and guided it home. He drove deep, his hands beneath her buttocks, kneading them. “Bitch! Sweet! Tempting! Little! Bitch!” he murmured, thrusting into her again and again.