Part 38 (1/2)
”Yes, valide. What do you want to talk about?”
The valide let her eyelids droop. ”What about? Oh, your future, my dear. And mine, too.”
Tulin stood respectfully at the foot of the divan. ”The Kislar aga is expecting us at Besiktas tomorrow, valide. Perhaps you should talk to him then?”
The valide c.o.c.ked her head. ”Tomorrow, is it? Tiens! Time flies so fast.”
”Yes, valide. Would you like a tisane, now?”
”No, thank you, my dear. I'm quite comfortable.” Her eyes roamed around the room she knew so well. ”I'm very comfortable, right here. You'll send for the Kislar aga, won't you?”
Tulin turned to the fire and put another log on the blaze.
”Tulin?”
”Yes, valide. Yes, I'll send for the Kislar aga, right away. Just let me light the lamps before I go.”
136.
THE outing had made everyone slightly hysterical. Many of the girls had seen more in one afternoon than they could quite take in. Crowds of men, for a start.
”Did you see the dragoon, by the bridge?”
”The man lolling in the window, showing his private parts!”
”Go on!”
”Never!”
”I told you to look, but by then he'd disappeared.”
”I only saw the sultan. So handsome, in the landau.”
”Oh, yes!” Their voices were shrill with agreement: everyone wished that they'd said it first.
”So handsome!”
”So imperial!”
Ibou, the Kislar aga, moved uneasily among the chatter. ”Has anyone seen Roxelana?”
”The little girl?”
”She's upstairs asleep, with all the kiddies.”
”Somebody pushed her over the side.”
”Watch what you say-young men dangling all over you, under the bridge! Whoo!”
”I told you, aga-somebody lifted her off the caique.”
”What?”
”I didn't really see. It was all dark under the bridge, after the suns.h.i.+ne.”
”That's right, aga. There was something funny under the bridge.”
”And Roxelana was gone?”
”How could I tell? She wasn't with us when we got into the carriages. Maybe she'd run on ahead. Children! In the carriage, I peeped!”
”You didn't!”
”You would!”
Ibou gave up, in despair. Everyone had their version. No one had been remotely interested in the child.
And yet no one had seen her all afternoon.
He was worrying about nothing, he thought to himself.
137.
YAs.h.i.+M stood listening to the sound of the muezzin calling the Friday prayer.
Only a fortnight, he thought, since he had gone to Friday mosque at Topkapi, to escape his awkwardness with the valide's handmaiden. The day, of course, that Hyacinth had died.