Siege by Jack Hight

harem like a bird in a cage. He pitied her, but he would never lie with her, never allow Sitt Hatun to produce an heir. He would not give his father the satisfaction.
    ‘I will decide who is worthy of me, Father. Gülbehar is my kadin and will have a place of honour in the harem. I love her.’
    ‘Love?’ Murad scoffed. ‘You were not born to love, Mehmed. A sultan has no family, no friends, no lovers. You know that.’ Murad sighed. ‘Have this Gülbehar sent to me today. I wish to inspect her.’
    ‘Very well, Father.’
    ‘Good,’ Murad concluded. ‘Now, you have heard that the Greek emperor is dead?’
    Mehmed nodded. ‘With his death, Constantinople is vulnerable. I already have an army at my command. Let me lead it against the Greeks. I will win victory for you there just as I did at Kossova.’
    Murad smirked. ‘ Kizil Elma , the red apple. It is a great prize. When I was your age, I too longed to take it,’ he said. ‘But this apple is sour, I fear. I laid siege to the city for months, but I put not a single dent in those walls. To take Constantinople requires planning, years of preparation, a fleet to block their supply ships, a huge army.’
    Mehmed opened his mouth to protest, but his father held up a hand, silencing him. ‘Still, you are right,’ Murad continued. ‘If there is civil war amongst the Greeks, then we would be fools not to take advantage of it. Keep your army, Prince Mehmed. Drill the men. Show me that you know how to make soldiers as well as how to destroy them. If I am pleased with your progress, then perhaps I shall allow you to attack Constantinople.’
    Mehmed bowed at the waist, as low as he could while sitting. ‘Thank you, Father.’
    ‘Now, off to your wife,’ Murad ordered. ‘She has waited long for your return and must be eager to see her husband.’
    Sitt Hatun sat motionless amidst a profusion of silk cushions, waiting patiently while two jariye – female house slaves – applied her makeup, highlighting her dark, oval eyes and her small, full mouth. Sitt Hatun was accustomed to waiting. After her marriage to Mehmed, she had waited in vain, night after night, for him to lie with her. When Mehmed had been sent in shame to Manisa, she had waited for him to call her to him from Edirne. Then, she had waited for Mehmed to return from war in Kossova. Now, that wait was over.
    Mehmed would be joining her soon. Murad would make him spend his first night in Edirne in her bed. But while he might allow her to pleasure him, he would not fulfil his duty as her husband. Mehmed had made it clear from the first that he was not interested in giving her a son. At first, his rejection had confused SittHatun. Petite but with a curving figure, golden skin and slender limbs, Sitt Hatun drew envious stares from the other women of the harem, and before her marriage she had received her share of suitors. Even now, living in the harem where entry meant death for any man who was not a eunuch or of the royal family, there were men who had risked their very lives to make their interest in her known. Mehmed, however, was not interested. Sitt Hatun knew now that he preferred another type of beauty.
    From the window of her chamber, Sitt Hatun had watched Gülbehar enter the harem. Tall and blonde, with fair skin and high cheekbones, Gülbehar was everything that Sitt Hatun was not. She was a nobody, a slave girl whose father was not even a born Muslim. Yet Mehmed had chosen her as his favourite, and there were even rumours that Gülbehar was pregnant with his child. As bas haseki – mother of the heir – Gülbehar would be entitled to honours that Sitt Hatun would never receive. Sitt Hatun would be sultana in name only, just as she was now wife only in name. Unless she listened to Halil …
    ‘Wife,’ Mehmed called out, snapping her from her thoughts. He was there, in the entrance room to her chambers. Sitt Hatun waved her attendants away and moved to greet him, gliding through her chambers in a