many days from the first showing of blood, Iris?”
“Twelve, master.”
The eunuch frowned. “She must go today else we will be forced to wait another month,” said the chief white eunuch almost to himself. “Pack nothing for your mistress. All will be provided.”
“She is scholarly, master. She will want her books. She is not idle, like other women.”
The eunuch looked surprised. But he was not an unkind man. “Very well, Iris, I will see that the princess’s books are sent to the palace. But not today. We barely have time to do what must be done.” He reached into his voluminous robes and, drawing out two packets, thrust them at her. “Give your mistress the powders in the blue packet before you leave here. She is to have the other one at sunset.”
“Please, master,” said Iris boldly, “what are they? I would not harm her.”
“The powders are drugs to relax her and prepare her virgin body for her husband’s attentions this night. But you are presumptuous, Iris! Do not ask questions of me or I will withdraw your appointment.”
The door to the antechamber opened and Theadora entered. The eunuch quickly scrutinized her with a practiced eye. He was pleased. Her stature was regal. She was slimmer than his master liked, but the high, full, cone-shaped breasts more than made up for that. She had clear, fair skin and amethyst-colored eyes…or were they violet? The shining dark hair hung to her hips. She even had well-formed white teeth. These were all signs of excellent physical and mental health.
The eunuch bowed politely. “I am Ali Yahya, Your Royal Highness. You are the most blessed of women, my princess. Your lord husband—Sultan Orkhan, son of the sultan of the Ghazis; Ghazi, son of Ghazi; Marquis of the Hero of the World—has chosen this night to be your night of nights. Your marriage, celebrated when you were but a child, will be consummated this night. May Allah bless you, and may you be fruitful with my master’s seed.”
Theadora looked at him, blankly, for a moment. Then she turned deathly pale and crumpled to the floor. The eunuch looked down on her still form. She was
very
lovely. The sultan would be quite pleased. “Virgin vapors,” he pronounced to Iris who was kneeling by the girl, patting her wrists. “I will send a litter for you in one hour. Be ready.”
When Theadora came to herself she found her shoulders supported by Iris’ strong arm. A cup of wine was being forced between her lips. “Drink, my princess, and do not be afraid. Ali Yahya has appointed me your chief waiting woman. I will not leave you, and no matter what that fat slug may think, I will be loyal to you alone! Drink, my baby. It will help.”
Theadora gulped at the wine, her mind whirling. What had suddenly possessed the sultan? Could he have found out about Prince Murad? No! It was not possible. Why then?
“When are we to go to the palace?” she asked.
“The litter comes in less than an hour.”
Oh, sweet Jesu! There was no time to send for Murad and, once at the palace, she dare not communicate with him. Oh, God! This was to be her punishment. If she had not committed adultery in fact, she had certainly committed it in her heart and now God was punishing her. To be wife to an old man while loving his son! They would live within the same palace, possibly even see each other, and never be able to speak! Theadora began to weep violently.
Not understanding the true nature of her mistress’s grief, Iris tried to comfort her. “Do not weep, my baby. It was bound to come, and all women must accept their fate. I would, of course, wish that you had a younger husband, but they do say the sultan is still very potent—and a good lover.” Seeing that Theadora’s eyes were shut in her agony, Iris slipped the contents of the first packet into the wine. Then she watched as the girl drained it, unaware that it was drugged.
There was no time left. The nuns were in the courtyard, crowding about her to bid her
“Twelve, master.”
The eunuch frowned. “She must go today else we will be forced to wait another month,” said the chief white eunuch almost to himself. “Pack nothing for your mistress. All will be provided.”
“She is scholarly, master. She will want her books. She is not idle, like other women.”
The eunuch looked surprised. But he was not an unkind man. “Very well, Iris, I will see that the princess’s books are sent to the palace. But not today. We barely have time to do what must be done.” He reached into his voluminous robes and, drawing out two packets, thrust them at her. “Give your mistress the powders in the blue packet before you leave here. She is to have the other one at sunset.”
“Please, master,” said Iris boldly, “what are they? I would not harm her.”
“The powders are drugs to relax her and prepare her virgin body for her husband’s attentions this night. But you are presumptuous, Iris! Do not ask questions of me or I will withdraw your appointment.”
The door to the antechamber opened and Theadora entered. The eunuch quickly scrutinized her with a practiced eye. He was pleased. Her stature was regal. She was slimmer than his master liked, but the high, full, cone-shaped breasts more than made up for that. She had clear, fair skin and amethyst-colored eyes…or were they violet? The shining dark hair hung to her hips. She even had well-formed white teeth. These were all signs of excellent physical and mental health.
The eunuch bowed politely. “I am Ali Yahya, Your Royal Highness. You are the most blessed of women, my princess. Your lord husband—Sultan Orkhan, son of the sultan of the Ghazis; Ghazi, son of Ghazi; Marquis of the Hero of the World—has chosen this night to be your night of nights. Your marriage, celebrated when you were but a child, will be consummated this night. May Allah bless you, and may you be fruitful with my master’s seed.”
Theadora looked at him, blankly, for a moment. Then she turned deathly pale and crumpled to the floor. The eunuch looked down on her still form. She was
very
lovely. The sultan would be quite pleased. “Virgin vapors,” he pronounced to Iris who was kneeling by the girl, patting her wrists. “I will send a litter for you in one hour. Be ready.”
When Theadora came to herself she found her shoulders supported by Iris’ strong arm. A cup of wine was being forced between her lips. “Drink, my princess, and do not be afraid. Ali Yahya has appointed me your chief waiting woman. I will not leave you, and no matter what that fat slug may think, I will be loyal to you alone! Drink, my baby. It will help.”
Theadora gulped at the wine, her mind whirling. What had suddenly possessed the sultan? Could he have found out about Prince Murad? No! It was not possible. Why then?
“When are we to go to the palace?” she asked.
“The litter comes in less than an hour.”
Oh, sweet Jesu! There was no time to send for Murad and, once at the palace, she dare not communicate with him. Oh, God! This was to be her punishment. If she had not committed adultery in fact, she had certainly committed it in her heart and now God was punishing her. To be wife to an old man while loving his son! They would live within the same palace, possibly even see each other, and never be able to speak! Theadora began to weep violently.
Not understanding the true nature of her mistress’s grief, Iris tried to comfort her. “Do not weep, my baby. It was bound to come, and all women must accept their fate. I would, of course, wish that you had a younger husband, but they do say the sultan is still very potent—and a good lover.” Seeing that Theadora’s eyes were shut in her agony, Iris slipped the contents of the first packet into the wine. Then she watched as the girl drained it, unaware that it was drugged.
There was no time left. The nuns were in the courtyard, crowding about her to bid her
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