Tasha Alexander - Tears of Pearl

“I suppose not. I’m only trying to better understand Ceyden’s situation.”

“The harem is a world of its own. She wanted to climb to the top of it. I would not let her.”

“Are you glad she’s dead?”

“Her existence made no difference to me. It was, occasionally, amusing to watch her unschooled attempts at seduction.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t close to the sultan?”

“No, only to Jemal. She loved him.”

“But the eunuchs...” I was now full in territory that repelled, fascinated, and confused me.

“Are not true men,” she finished for me. “Quite right, but some of them are men enough.”

A thousand questions leapt to my lips, but I could not bring myself to ask a single one. “I didn’t—”

“You are unused to this sort of openness. Such subjects are not forbidden to women here, Lady Emily. Ceyden was not entirely incapable of using her charms, limited though they were, to her advantage.”

“Could Jemal wield influence with the sultan?”

“He would like to think he can influence me.”

“Is he right?”

“Sometimes,” she said.

“Who was watching Roxelana and me in the park? One of the guards?”

“We’ve covered quite enough for today.” She gave me a narrow smile and left the room.

I spent the rest of the afternoon interviewing slaves and concubines, many of them stunning Circassians, the stuff of harem legend in Western tales. These women, brought from the Caucusus Mountains to be sold in Constantinople, were treasured for their beauty—pale, luminous skin, mesmerizing bright eyes, and lustrous hair, blond or dark. Everyone to whom I spoke agreed Ceyden had done whatever she could to gain Abdül Hamit’s notice, but her lack of success in doing so kept her from threatening the positions, or desired positions, of her compatriots. The similarities not only in substance but in verbiage of what they told me made it apparent that someone had coached them, and well. Only a handful of them spoke much English, so Perestu translated for the rest. I had no idea whether she accurately reported to me what they said.

“Jemal must be subjected to extensive questioning,” I said to Colin as we sat on the balcony outside our bedroom that evening. The view stretched nearly to Topkapı in the south, the hills of the city piling on top of one another as they rose from the Bosphorus. Houses and buildings formed a dense tapestry above the waterline, flat and peaked roofs obstructing all but more roofs behind them, as if each were vying for a superior view. Far to the north was the Black Sea, and a steady stream of ships—barges, feluccas, caïques, and yawls—moved towards it, well out of our sight. “As for the women, it’s all too well organized, too orchestrated. I can’t decide whether they’re hiding something or just afraid.”

“Afraid?” Colin asked.

“Whoever killed Ceyden could strike again. Perhaps the girls are afraid of drawing attention to themselves.”

“They’d be better served by allowing you to gather as much information as possible. How else will this man ever be stopped?”

“How can you be sure it’s a man?”

“It’s difficult to strangle someone,” Colin said. “More likely that a man would have the strength for it. I don’t know that a woman could do such a thing with her bare hands.”

“Hideous.” Not wanting to dwell on the details, I mentally flipped through the catalog of women to whom I’d spoken and determined that each was far too delicate to pull off the task. “So we need a man in the harem.”

“I’d say they could use several men in the harem.”

“You’re dreadful, and I’m going to ignore you.” I let my eyes rest on his just long enough to fill my head with all sorts of visions about which I could do nothing at the moment.

“What of the other women?” Colin asked. “Did Ceyden have any particular friends?”

“None who will admit to it.”

“They undoubtedly want to distance themselves from her, regardless. Avoid any guilt by association.”

“Guilt?” I asked. “Ceyden is the victim in all this.”

“True. But the status of these women depends entirely on their relationship with Perestu, and the sultan, if they’re lucky enough to have won his favor. The reputation of her friends may have been tarnished by Ceyden’s violent death.”

I frowned. “Yes, but why not admit the relationship to me? Surely Perestu already knows. She keeps careful track of everything that happens in the harem.”

“A harem that shelters no secrets?” He drew on his cigar. “I’d be thoroughly disappointed if I could bring myself to believe it even for an instant.”

“Did you learn anything of use today?”

“I went back to Çırağan and spoke to Murat. Excellent prison, the palace.”

“And is the former sultan discontented?” I asked.

“He did not seem so,” Colin said. “Spends much of his time listening to music and watching plays. Enjoys his children. The stress of ruling did not agree with him. That does not, however, mean that those around him would not prefer to take a more active role in the government.”

“Could they be plotting a coup?”

“It’s unlikely. The sultan has a spy in the household—the chief black eunuch in Murat’s harem. He’s as thorough a man as I’ve ever met and isn’t likely to miss something on that scale.”

“What about something smaller?” I asked. “A plan that looks on the surface like nothing more than standard harem politics?”

“The discontent I felt comes from the men around Murat.”

“You’ve not been in the harem.”

“No, but the chief eunuch was adamant about there being no trouble there, and I believe him. Those women stand no chance at advancement, and there’s surprisingly little intrigue other than petty gossip.”

“You’re certain?”

“I shall continue to press him for information, but my own efforts will be focused elsewhere in the palace.” He rolled the cigar between the tips of his fingers. “And what about you? Will you search for concubines who were close to Ceyden?”

“Enemies, my darling man, are even more fascinating than friends, don’t you think? I want to find out who despised her.” I rose from my chair and stood in front of him. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“Not that I can think of,” he said.

“The sun’s set. Shall we go inside?”

“The lights of Constantinople aren’t enough to amuse you?”

“I adore the lights,” I said. “But I much prefer you in the dark.”

“Her Excellency cannot see you now.” The smile on Jemal’s face as he met me at the arched doorway that stood at the entrance to the harem at Topkapı was undoubtedly meant to irritate. “You’re too early.”

“Which is precisely what I wanted,” I said, pulling down on the bottom of the jacket I wore, smoothing it over my fine wool corselet skirt. “I came now so as to have the opportunity to speak to you.”

“I’m sure we have very little to say to each other.”

“Tell me about your friendship with Ceyden.”

“We were the most casual sort of acquaintances,” he said. “And that only because our positions forced us to cross paths regularly.”

“Why, Jemal, must you make this difficult? I know that you were sent here to be kept away from her.”

“I was sent here because the sultan felt my talents better suited to Topkapı.”

“That’s not what Perestu told me.”

“She does not have quite so much power as she likes to think,” he said. “It’s presumptuous to assume she’d even know what my mission is here.”

“What is it?”

“Confidential.”

“And it has nothing to do with Ceyden?”

“If it did, why would I still be here after her death?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” I said. “Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

“I do not approve of what you are doing, Lady Emily. There is nothing to be gained. Ceyden is dead and cannot be helped.”

“Should she have no justice?”

“Sometimes justice brings only a worse pain.”

“So we should seek solace in lies and half-truths instead?” I asked.

“I cannot have you drawing attention to my mistress.”

“Does she have something to hide?”

“I suggested no such thing. I know only the risks of one’s actions being misinterpreted. Leave Bezime out of your game.”

“This isn’t a game, Jemal,” I said. “How could solving Ceyden’s murder threaten her?”

“Digging into any court controversy can threaten her. It’s not so long ago that the concubines of former sultans were drowned in the Bosphorus instead of being allowed a comfortable retirement.”

“Abdül Hamit would never do such a thing to a woman he looked on once almost as a mother.”

“But he stopped feeling that way for her, did he not? And why was that?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

He stood and began to pace in front of the doorway, the movement having a dizzying eff ect on me. “She is cut from all decisions, all events of importance. Is that not a precarious position?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “A lonely one, but not dangerous.”

“She was closer to Ceyden than anyone else, raised her like a daughter. Groomed her to please the sultan.”

“Only to have her efforts thwarted by Perestu.”

“Precisely.”

“But isn’t that typical court behavior? Are not all the concubines competing for favor? It’s hardly surprising that the valide sultan would refuse to aid the cause of the one woman who might have had the position she occupies. Perestu must know full well that the sultan could have named Bezime valide.”

“I have said too much. It would be best for us all if you would cease your questions.”

“Please—” A door in the corridor swung open, Bezime standing, arms crossed, on the other side.

“Go, Jemal,” she said. “I will handle this.”

The eunuch bowed deeply to her before disappearing. Bezime beckoned for me to come in, closing the door behind me with only the slightest click as the latch caught the edge of the frame.

“Come,” she said. “I will take you to where it is safe to speak.”

We wound our way through narrow corridors and series after series of connected rooms, until we were outside of the harem, in a courtyard. Then through an ornate gate, another courtyard, and into a tiled pavilion. She sat in the center of a low divan covered with buttery smooth crimson silk that ran the length of the wall and motioned for me to join her. Despite the sun streaking through the open windows, candles flickered in the tiled nooks that lined the walls, illuminating nothing but the space immediately around them.

“I must ask you about Jemal. He says—”

“I cannot speak of him right now.” Her voice was a shredded whisper. “I’m being threatened.”

“Th reatened?”

She did not reply, but removed a small package from the folds of her skirt. With gentle hands, she untied the frayed purple bow wrapped around it, letting the well-worn fabric fall away from the object it encased, a dark blue velvet bag. From within that, she took a thin white cord. “Bowstrings like this were for uncountable years used by the bostanji, the sultan’s most trusted guards and executioners. It was with these that anyone who threatened his throne—especially members of his family—was killed.”

“Who would send you such a thing?”

“It must have come from Yıldız,” she said, stretching the string in her hands, then laying it flat on the table in front of us. “No one elsewhere would presume to use such a thing.”

“When did you receive it?”

“Not twenty minutes ago.”

“Who at Yıldız would wish you harm?”

“That is no simple question to answer. Perestu, I suppose, is an obvious suspect.”

“How so?”

“I used to be valide sultan. Perhaps that threatens her.”

“Forgive me, but you’re not any longer—surely she feels her role is secure.”

“I’m still able to communicate directly with the sultan. She may not like that, particularly as she knows it is not difficult for a woman skilled in the mysterious arts to wield a certain amount of control over a man so full of fear.”

I sat silent, skeptical of her claim of control, particularly as she’d been sent to Topkapı as an elegant banishment.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked.

“What sort of official power did you have before coming here but after Perestu had been named valide sultan?”

“I had no title, if that’s what you mean. But it is unusual for any concubine to be allowed to stay in the harem after her sultan no longer rules. I had the respect of every resident of the palace.”