“I will come with you,” Diya al Din said. “I was not aware there was a spy hole there, ladies. How did you know it?”
Shahdi smiled mischievously, but did not answer him.
The three hurried to the prince’s apartments and secreted themselves so they might listen. They could see the messenger pacing back and forth as he waited for Prince Amir. When the recipient of the message entered the chamber, the messenger bowed and slipped down upon one knee, holding out the rolled parchment to Amir. He took it, opened it, read it, and then said, “How long did it take you to come from Istanbul?”
“Two days, Highness. I rode hard,” was the reply.
“Do you know if the sultan still lives?” Amir asked.
The messenger shook his head. “He was not in Istanbul, Highness, but had crossed over to Bursa and begun his spring campaign.”
“Then who sent you?” Amir wanted to know.
“I do not know, Highness. I was simply dispatched from the palace,” was the reply.
“This is not good. Not good at all,” Diya al Din murmured softly.
“Hush!”Maysun hissed at the eunuch.
Realizing that the messenger was just that, and knew nothing more, the prince sent him to the kitchens to be fed. There was no reply necessary to the information he had just received. “Go and eat. Rest the night before returning to Istanbul,” he told the man.
The messenger arose, bowed, and went off. Amir read once again the parchment he had received. Azura slipped from an alcove where she had been standing and went to her husband. She looked up at him questioningly, a gentle hand on his arm.
“Go and find the others,” he instructed her, “and tell Diya al Din to gather the household. I will speak with them all.”
While he spoke, those hidden at the spy hole hurried off to be where they should be. Azura came into the harem and called to her two companions. “I know no more than you do,” she said. “Come, and let us learn what the message brought to our husband said.”
“What message?” Shahdi asked innocently.
Azura laughed. “Do not dissemble with me, Shahdi. I found that spy hole weeks ago. Florentine homes tend to have them, and I recognized the difference in the texture of the wall,” she told them. “And I heard you. Even using his softest voice, Diya al Din is recognizable. How did you know the spy hole was there?”
Maysun chuckled at the chagrined look on Shahdi’s face, but said nothing.
“There was nothing to do all those years our husband was away. I know this little palace inside and out. Probably better than anyone,” Shahdi admitted.
Together the three women joined their husband and the gathered household in the salon used for visitors.
“I have received a message from Istanbul,” Amir began. “The sultan had only just begun his spring campaign when he took seriously ill. I cannot tell you if he yet lives, or has passed into the next life. My uncle, Prince Bayezit, was with him. I expect we will hear something further in the coming days.”
A low moaning arose from the house slaves, and even the two chief eunuchs looked distressed by what they had just heard.
“There is nothing to fear,” Prince Amir assured them. “Go now about your duties. Diya al Din, see that a watch is set on the road both day and night. I want no more surprise visitors.” He turned to his women. “Come,” he said and left the room, returning with them to the harem quarters, where he sat down in the women’s dayroom, inviting them to join him. He would elucidate further in private with them.
Maysun told the slaves to bring mint tea and sweet cakes. When they had, she dismissed them, asking Agata to make certain they went. Shahdi took Amir’s small turban from his head while Azura settled the pillows about and around him. The refreshments came and finally Amir spoke to them.
“If he dies there will be a struggle for the succession,” he told them. “My uncle will win, for while my father is the better tactician, the Janissaries are on my uncle’s side. He knows how to delegate authority far better than my father, who is too modern a man and looks to the West. My uncle, while forward-thinking, is a traditionalist. The Janissaries prefer tradition, like campaigning in the spring.”
“You will have to tread lightly,” Maysun warned.
“What if your uncle sends his gardeners to you?” Shahdi asked.
“I do not believe he will, since I have no intention of supporting my father,” Amir replied. “Bayezit is a fair man and he knows me well.”
“He has three living sons,” Maysun reminded Amir.
“From three different mothers, and of the three only my cousin Selim is suited to rule. Ahmed enjoys life too much, and Korkut is a scholar.”
“Selim is the youngest,” Shahdi noted.
