EID MUBARAK: SULEYMAN THE MAGNIFICENT - KANUNI

The Precursor to globalism (and there is much that is positive and viable about it) was

Suleyman the Magnificent also known as Suleyman Kanuni - the Lawmaker.

He traveled to Mecca as a simple pilgrim with only his grand vazir and his wife disguised as a young male servant. It was not until he had left the city that the guardians of the Hegaz were handed thousands of gold ducats and a handwritten greeting with his gorgeous blue tugra.

Friends, that is how RESPECT is earned.

This is the splendid Suleimaniye Mosque in Istanbul. It was designed and built by Sinan the Great, a Greek/Serbian architect and engineer. Without a doubt, Sinan the Great was as prolific and multifaceted in his designs as Imhotep the Great, of Pharaonic times.

I think that the mathematical perfection as well as the religious and mystical wonder of the Suleimaniye Mosque render it one of the wonders of the Rennaisance and of the modern world.

That is the reason why I am displaying the Mosque, and Suleyman's portrait at this special time - the end of Eid, No Muslim Leader, nay, no Leader of any religious belief has ever succeeded in being loved by all three peoples of THE BOOK. Suleyman seems to be the first and last Ruler who united Muslims, Christians and Jews to live together in harmony within his Empire.

His Mother the Valide Sultana Hafsa was Russian. His father Sultan Selim (the Cruel) according to some prejudiced Western historians might possibly have been one eighth Turkish, since his mother was also a Russian from the Crimea.

Sultana Roxelana, Suleyman's consort was a full blooded Russian from Kiev.

The language of his elite Janissaries was Serbian.

The Ulema only spoke classical Arabic.

He trusted his Jewish physicians implicitly. Indeed,he had a formidable Jewish regiment which was composed of voluntary warriors as there was no conscription of Jews or Christians.

His Ambassador to the Venetian Republic - La Serenissima was the Sephardic Jewish banker Yussuf Nazy. The Sultana Roxelana was engaged in a proftable shipping venture with Graca Mendes Nazi, aunt of Yusuf.

Suleymans's Ambassador to Hungary was the Venetian Prince Ludovico Gritti, natural son of Doge Andrea Gritti.

"I only want to create one form of aristocracy - that of the brain," declared Suleyman the Magnificent.

EID MUBARAK

TO GOD THE MERCIFUL AND THE COMPASSIONATE.

For the benefit of those who might encounter some difficulty in deciphering my calligraphy I am rewriting the incomparable words of SULEYMAN THE MAGNIFICENT/SULEYMAN KANUNI. He always signed his letters, dispatches, and communiques in the following way:

I AM SULEYMAN

RULER OF THE WORLD

SLAVE OF GOD

GUARDIAN OF MECCA,MEDINA AND JERUSALEM

PROTECTOR OF ALL

MUSLIMS

CHRISTIANS

JUDEANS

Suleyman the Magnificent: Overview

Suleyman the Magnificent...Suleyman Kanuni...the Law Giver. greatest and noblest Ruler of the Sixteenth Century, or perhaps of any century up to the twentieth century, presents to the writer/producer the opportunity and challenge of a lifetime.

The writer/producer, through masterful dialogue, high action, vivid imagery, powerful scenes and superb interpreters, must show the compassion of Suleyman, his religious tolerance, his deep understanding of Man, and a code of ethics and morality capable of inspiring the spoiled, angry, embittered and desperate youth of today.

Under Suleyman the Magnificent, Muslim rule was an indirect democracy. Every office in the land but the Sultanate was open to all Muslims and converted Christians.

His determination to awe his people with Arms as well as Art led him to the very heights of both. This will be shown in my books and in the motion picture.

His defects appear more clearly in his relationships with his family than in government. This will lead to his greatest personal tragedies.

Loved and respected by his people, a feat difficult to accomplish, since Leaders are usually feared not loved. Under Suleyman the Muslims became the strongest people in Europe if not the world. The Ottoman government which predated globalism by 470 years had shown itself in many instances more competent in statesmanship, finance and diplomacy than its rivals in Europe or in Asia.

Suleyman the Magnificent is a spellbinding but difficult subject. A writer must try to be impartial.It is difficult even after almost five centuries not to fall under Suleyman's magnetism.

This writer has felt the events and the protagonists living passionate and dramatic moments with the empathy of one who has come to learn that even the belief in reason can sometimes be precarious.

While we are all fragments of darkness groping for the light, Suleyman the Magnificent radiated more Light than most of us..................That is important to the World's story.

Charles V - Emperor of the Hapsburgs

This is the Hapsburg Emperor Charles V of Austria and Charles I of Spain. The Hapsburgs were Suleyman's most persistent and powerful enemies in the West. His armies sacked Rome in 1525  inducing Pope Clement VII to appeal to Suleyman for aid. The communique was sent to La Serenissima, the Venetian Republic where Suleyman's Ambassador, Yusuf Nasi , a Jew represented all the political. diplomatic and financial affairs of the Ottoman Empire.

N. B. The illustration is by the author.

Suleyman the Magnificent

                                A Persian miniature of Suleyman and his Janissaries

Suleyman Playing Polo

Suleyman the Magnificent playing polo

Suleyman & Roxelana

Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent and his wife and consort, the Sultana Roxelana, formerly known as Hurrem of the Laughing Golden Eyes.

Suleyman Hunting

Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent as painted on a Persian miniature while on a hunt.

The Suleimaniye Mosque of Suleyman the Magnificent

                   The splendor of Suleyman's Mosque - the Suleimaniye Mosque built by Sinan the Gr                     Great, one of the world's greatest and most prolific architects. Sinan the Great was p                     Greek.   N. B. Drawing and illustration by the author.

                   

Suleyman's Emerald & Turquoise Quran

Sacred Writings of the Qur'an entirely covered in Emeralds, Sapphires, Turquoise and Gold.  This scroll used to hang in Suleyman's tent during his military campaigns.

Slave Market at time of Suleyman

The slave market during the epoch of Suleyman the Magnificent. The word slave originally came from the word for Slav - of the ethnic Slavs. This shows how much Suleyman dominated Eastern Europe during his reign.

Eunuch

A Eunuch as illustrated by Leon Bakst for the Ballet Russe of Sergei Diaghilev with the incomparable Nijinsky as its Star in the early part of the 20th century.Perhaps before the outbreak of the horrific World War I.

The Chief Black Eunuch, the third most powerful man in the Empire after Sultan Suleyman and the Grand Vizier.

The Chief Eunuch became Roxelana's confidante and ally. Suleyman was faithful to her but she was concerned about the succession since Mustafa, son of Gulbahar -  Rose of Spring was his first born son.

Suleyman the Magnificent: Birthday Celebrations - Part 3

Grand Sultan Bayazid ll advanced in great stealth towards the Great Hall. He gestured his Janissaries to silence. Imam Kemal Pasha whom he himself had created Pasha was reciting the holy prayers from the Qur’an.

That was thoughtful of my grandson Suleyman to invite me to his birthday celebration. No doubt Princess Hafsa is aware of it .She might even be the principal artificer. Never mind. My sons and grandsons presume to think on my behalf. They are convinced I am not interested in attending their natal days and that an invitation might bring on my irritation or worse. How little they know me! All of them are so preoccupied with outdoing and killing each other to realize that I am still THE Sultan. Selim has great powers because I have granted him those powers due to his intelligence and his military prowess. It breaks my heart that he has chosen to snub me on this day of all days.


Kumaruddin, one of his loyal Janissaries, a Serbian officer from Belgrade stood on his tiptoes for Bayazid was nearly two meters tall and whispered, "Your Majesty are we to wait here in the hallways and corridors until the Imams have said their prayers?”

“As quietly and as reverently as possible. And then our procession shall enter the Great Hall with trumpets blaring and flutes declaring our joy - the moment the Sufi youth Sut Karash has finished reciting his poem,” he replied.

Major Kamaruddin was fond of Sultan Bayazid. He felt a sense of awe just being next to him for Bayazid was the son of Mehmet the Conqueror. Yes! None other. The Sultan who had laid the siege on Constantinople for nearly a year and then blasted with well placed bombs a breach in its thick walls and entered the city as the Victor that he was and always would be. Now it was known as Istanbul, the Sublime Porte.

I remember the birth of Suleyman. It was Kamaruddin, then a courier who rode out from Trebzond to Istanbul to give me the news on behalf of Princess Hafsa. Our own Arab and Mongol astrologers, the Persians, the Judeans and even the Christian learned men had all agreed that his birth date showed an extraordinary confluence of planets; all in harmony towards each other.

“The Sufi is nearly finished. I entered his room and memorized his poem so that we would not err on the timing,” Kamaruddin told the Sultan who smiled and said nothing except pat his approval on his wrist.

“All 15 torches are lit? All golden trumpets as shiny as prisms? Baritone and bass singers from the Corps of Engineers ready? Are we prepared? The 191 men nodded.

“We are, Your Majesty,” Kamaruddin voiced their reply.

“Good. Follow me ten paces behind for 90 seconds and then form a loose protective circle around me. Remember to put on happy faces and relax all your fighting muscles. Allahu Akbar.”

The reigning Sultan Bayazid could not have chosen a better moment for making his splendid entrance. There was a pause in the tower, perhaps just a few seconds after Sud Karash’s poem and he had, so to speak penetrated that pause.

“Salam Aleikum to you all but most of all to my dear grandson Suleyman,” Sultan Bayazid’s mighty voice resonated through out.

All the guests in the tower and the staff in the Great Hall answered his greeting as loudly as they could and in the same spirit of happiness in which Bayazid ll had declared. “Aleikum Salam, Your Majesty.”

Bayazid ll only heard the lilting sound, which emanated from his most favored grandson. “Aleikum Salam to you Babba Bayazid! You came for my celebration. Oh! Thank you, dear Babba Bayazid,” exclaimed Suleyman leaping off the steps of the tower two at a time.

“Suleyman stop! My engineers have devised and perfected a net made of the lightest linen, which has eight times the tensile strength of iron. Men can jump into it unhurt from great heights when they would be otherwise trapped in a fire or outnumbered by their foes. This one is for you and for your men to use in martial practice. So…take a flying leap into the net. Keep in mind that it will make your body bounce so do not fight the direction in which you are pulled, follow it instead and you will be unhurt. In that way I shall embrace you much more quickly,” he urged his grandson in a voice, which could charm serpents.

Suleyman gazed down. At least 12 strong officers held up the net over their shoulders directly below him. He stepped on the railing, which stood just below his waist and let himself go into a free fall into nothing but air.

“Heee Ya!” he whooped as the magnetic forces pulled him down.

“I am not afraid for my son. Sultan Bayazid would never risk his life for anything in the world. He might do it on the battlefield; both he and Selim frequently place him in the thick of the fighting. On the other hand they are also where the struggle is most dangerous.

My father has outdone, outsmarted and outfoxed me yet again. I had no intentions of inviting him. How could I have overlooked the affection Suleyman feels for him? If he had displayed more attention towards me when I was a child I may not resent and hate him so much. To be fair, he has favored me as the leading Sultan among his thirty sons, so he has shown me some attention. Perhaps his love for Suleyman may also have influenced him in this decision? I won’t delve into it. I have power second only to him and in time I am planning to change that.

Suleyman did not cease whooping and cheering even as he landed and continued to bounce several times before the men lowered the net into the floor. “It’s wonderful Babba Bayazid. Ibrahim and my men and I could spend hours perfecting our balance on this,” he said running into his grandfather’s open arms.

"You gave one or more of these nets to Babba too haven’t you? Please don’t hurt his feelings any more than you have to," he pleaded on his father’s behalf.

“I gave your father twelve of these nets two months ago. Concentrate on acquiring skills and knowledge of yourself and others. You have no reason to be concerned for your parents. Now let us get on with your party.”

Sultan Bayazid lifted his head. Everyone was still standing in the tower waiting for his orders. “Stay please. I shall come to you.” With Suleyman by his side he slowly walked up the steps to the tower. He began addressing them in a confident and self-assured voice as he did so.

“Selim and Hafsa, my most happy greetings."

"Imam Kemal Pasha, Imam Malik, Master Mordechai, Fra Domenico and Sufi Sut Karash please receive my loftiest salutations. Thank you all for your warm participation in these celebrations."

"Ibrahim, I think you and the other young Turks will enjoy perfecting your balancing prowess on the net."

"Lady Maryam, you shall always have my most cordial sentiments."

"This is Lady Hurrem I presume? Welcome to Istanbul. I believe you will honor us with a song after the Princess Mother and the Sultan by my grace pronounce some memorable words on this occasion.”

Major Kamaruddin followed ten paces behind them. The 191 engineers, musicians and officers remained below in casual attention.

Sultan Selim simply said "A marvelous fifteenth birthday to you Suleyman my son. May God look favorably on all my prayers regarding you,” he said.

By the beard of the Prophet, I can’t think of anything more to say. That bastard, my Father, has the capacity to remove the wind out of my sails even without trying, he grumbled silently.

"Thank you Grand Sultan Bayazid for the time and the effort to honor us with your presence and assist at this all important occasion of our son’s 15th birthday. I am aware that many cultures and civilizations honor the day a boy and a girl turn fifteen,” declared Princess Hafsa unable to contain the emotion in her voice.

This is the very first time as far as I know, that a reigning Sultan has attended the celebrations of any of his too numerous to count grandsons. I know it was Suleyman who invited him, because my son confided this to me. The Sultan is happy beyond belief, unlike Selim who is almost foaming at the mouth. I think this is a bad omen, but Suleyman is aware of the conflict between father and son, she could not help quavering inwardly.

Suleyman wound his arms around his Grandfather and his Father. “I can’t believe I am having such a happy birthday with my Father and Grandfather next to me. But, Babba Bayazid you have not made any statement,” declared Suleyman gazing intently into his grandfather’s slate gray eyes.

“I have Habibi (my loved one in Arabic). My presence speaks volumes. The trumpets, kettledrums and flutes will presently declare it in a clear message. Now it is up to you to decipher it’s meaning,” he replied chuckling loudly.

“Strike up the band," commanded Major Kamaruddin. The trumpets played softly, then a solo flute trilled, and then padded hands struck the kettledrums. The chorus, which was composed of the finest singers and fighters in Sultan Bayazid’s army, began chanting. “Suley-Suleyman. Suley- Suleyman. Suley-Suleyman.”

“Why that is what I composed for Suleyman earlier this afternoon. I can’t believe my ears. It sounds majestic with all the instruments arranged just so and the chorus of fine male voices. How did they… "

"Suleyman’s the culprit," Lady Maryam informed Hurrem. “He liked it and sang a few bars to the Grand Sultan who found the melody lovely. He instructed Major Kamaruddin to incorporate it into the musical arrangement they had prepared for Suleyman.”

The composition was brief but much appreciated by Suleyman. This is a party not a concert, thought he.

Hurrem was handed a golden lyre. I thought I was to sing a Capella. I understand. The presence of the Grand Sultan Bayazid has changed the best-laid plans of the Princess Mother and of Suleyman. She begun to tune it but discovered that its tone was perfection. She quickly gazed at Suleyman who smiled in a conspiratorial way. Aha, he tuned it for me to save me the embarrassment of doing it in front of all this personages on the day of his birthday and mine. This is to be my Baptism of Fire so I must not allow myself to be rushed or distracted, she reflected coolly.


"In Istanbul the Sublime Porte there lives a young Prince destined for great things so the sages say,” she sang in a high and limpid voice.

“The young Prince is Suley-Suleyman. Suley-Suleyman. Suley-Suleyman”.

“God has given Suley-Suleyman a loving Mother.”

“God has favored Suley-Suleyman with a caring Father.”

“God has further granted Suley-Suleyman an affectionate Grandfather.”

“God continues to watch over Suley-Suleyman with the most spiritual men on this realm.”

From Hurrem, your newly found friend, I pray God gifts you a long and victorious life.”

Hard clapping, beating of the kettledrums, 15 torches held aloft by Sultan Bayazid’s officers. By means of special maneuvers, they spelt the name of Suleyman in Arabic using only the ends of their lit torches. More applause. Trumpets signaled a delightful event.

"It’s time to cut the cake. The first plate goes to my Grandfather, the second and third I offer at the same time to my Mother and Father, to show them that I love them both equally." That is not true. I love my Mother first and foremost. But my Father’s heart and mood are darkened by the presence of his father, the real Ruler of our Empire, who also happens to be my Grandfather. Why provoke his cruel streak needlessly? He ruminated win silence..

“The rest of you are welcome to cut as much or as little of it as you wish for yourselves. You can wash it all down with chilled rose water, a libation of scarlet oranges or lime water with mint leaves,” declared Suleyman.

“What is this strange looking eating utensil in gold beside the small spoon on the cake?’ asked Sultan Selim.

“Aah! That is known as a forchetta – fork. Catherine de Medici took it along as part of her dowry when she left Florence to marry King Henry of France. My Christian tutor Prince Ludovico Gritti brought it from Venice; he believes it might well be an invention of the great and unique Leonardo. (da Vinci) Princess Mother Hafsa chuckled and told the assembled guests.

“Well now, the French are always so conceited and full of themselves. Is it perhaps a way of coping with the inescapable fact that the Renaissance began in Florence, continued on to Rome and Venice, whilst they wallowed in their ignorance and love of luxury? Imagine this, a young Florentine gir, an upstart Medici.l swimming in gold florins, ducats and dinars has taught them the art of eating by introducing the fork into the court.”

“Hooray to Master Ludovico for bringing it to our attention. The affairs of the Ottoman state have kept him in Venice. We shall remember him without fail when it is time to make the toasts,” said Suleyman.

Sultan Bayazid cleared his throat. “Habibi, may I make an announcement while we are enjoying this cake which seems to have been made in Paradise?

"Certainly Babba Bayazid. You are our Ruler,” replied Suleyman.

“I have decided to mount a series of military campaigns against the Mamluks in Egypt and Syria. I have tasked my best and brightest son Selim to enlarge our Navy. He has suggested that it should be based in North Africa.”

Frenzied cheering took place.

Sultan Bayazid raised his richly embroidered robe heavily encrusted with lapis lazuli and coral gemstones. The cheering ceased.

“This will be a unique campaign for I would like to have all the religious clerics present here tonight to accompany me. As well, the Princes Selim and Jubal will have their own armies.

Again Jubal? I detest him, thought Selim. I never understood the reason why my cruel Mother loved him and my sisters and never loved me. I hope he dies! Sultan Selim wished with full awareness of what he was doing.

The Grand Sultan went on. ”Suleyman and the Princess Hafsa will be a most welcome addition to my retinue. As usual i am counting on Master Mordechai to continue as my personal physician. His daughter Lady Maryam  is respected and trusted by the women of our various entourages. thus she will look after all of them. One last point, Lady Hurrem can sing and play like an angel. She is therefore invited to join Princess Hafsa's staff. She will calm our savage hearts.”

The Hurrahs begun in earnest. “Mater, did you hear Babba Bayazid? We are to be part of his retinue. I remember the last campaign to Egypt. I was wounded in the shoulder by a Mamluk arrow. Thankfully it was only a flesh wound and the medicines of Master Mordechai induced healing faster.”

“Yes, I heard Suleyman. You must never talk about your wounds for I remember them all down to the last detail. God’s will be done.”

The Grand Sultan Bayazid gazed at his grandson and at the assembled guests. He was glad that he had chosen this day and this moment to announce the campaigns against the Mamluks and the Kaffirs. The army was restive and his sons too restless. The rigors of war and the constant dangers present in the battles would calm their rage towards each other. He was particularly thinking of Selim.

“We deploy in 14 days from tonight. I bid you all a good night. Suleyman may Allah bless and protect you on this and on every day of what I pray will be a long life,” he said enveloping him into his massive chest. '

"I am grateful for your thoughts and prayers Babba Bayazid."

The Grand Sultan disengaged himself from his grandson and approached Sultan Selim.

“Selim, my son, come to see me soonest. We need to discuss strategies and tactics,” he said taking him into his arms and hugging him.

“Consider it done Babba. Goodnight,” he replied making an effort to appear glad at the news. Sultan Bayazid greeted everyone in the tower taking care to bid a special leave for all the holy men and for Princess Mother Hafsa. He gave Lady Maryam and and Hurrem a huge smile. “Please continue the festivities. Salam Aleikum,” he said dashing down the wooden steps of the circular tower as if his imaginary (for the time being) pursuers would overtake him.

“Please continue with the celebrations. One’s youth must be enjoyed but not misspent,” he declared.

His well-disciplined Janissaries, Corps of Engineers, builders and the band of fighters and musicians lifted their right arms high in salute, there was a visible pause then their arms were slowly brought down over their chests and towards their hearts. They all swirled at the same time. They faced the massive bronze doors of the Great hall. They opened ranks. Sultan Bayazid walked alone and tall until he was out of the door. Soundlessly, the 191 men with 15 of them still carrying the 15 symbolic torches padded out of the Great hall one by one following their Serasker – Commander in Chief.

I hate my father. Selim bit his tongue. I dare not reprimand Suleyman for inviting him. This is Hafsa’s Villa. I will bring down her wrath as well as his. I cannot risk losing Suleyman’s love and Hafsa’s esteem. I will need to stifle my hatred if I wish for my plans to succeed. Stealth and cunning are needed. I calculate that in five years time at the latest, ideally three I shall devise a foolproof plan to depose my father.

Suleyman was in agony but his face was a mask of mirth. I have looked into my father’s heart. I will not allow any harm to befall my Grandfather, he vowed quietly. His friends and guests begun to dance and frolic.

“Come on Suleyman. Let us partake of the good food, the cake and the libations (albeit without alcohol) for tomorrow is another day,” Sut Karash urged him.

“I too must go, my son,” said Sultan Selim in a hoarse whisper. "Your grandfather is right. The evening belongs to you young people."

“Thank you Babba for everything. I love you,” Suleyman told him with simplicity.

“I love you too,” he replied unsure whether he truly meant it. He knew he cared for Suleyman and perhaps that was all that he was capable of.

“I’ll walk with you until we reach the courtyard.”

“No. No. Please enjoy your party. You truly deserve it. I must take leave of your Mother before anything else and then like your Grandfather, I shall bid all the religious men a heartfelt farewell.”

Hurrem had observed everything and locked it away in her heart. “Suleyman is doing what my father advised me to do. “Buon viso a cattiva sorte.” Put on a good face to an unpleasant or bad occurrence.

Suleyman watched his father and his entourage of Janissaries dressed in rich brocaded Bordeaux walk imperiously towards the bronze door.

“My son, whatever emotions are coursing through your veins, ignore them for tonight. The solace of sleep and the light of day will give you a different perspective,” affirmed his Mother who, clearly was preparing to leave soon with Lady Maryam and Hurrem. My mother is right as always. No one must know how I feel. The time is not yet right.

He held her in a long and affectionate embrace. “You know how much I care about you. I have always known that you loved no one more than I,” he murmured.

“All true Suleyman. Goodnight. I hope you will come for an intimate dinner the day after tomorrow.”

“Mater, your invitations are my command.”

She felt a less heavy weight upon her. Whenever he addressed her as Mater she knew his good mood had returned. Lady Maryam pecked him on the cheek and said, ”It was a very important 15th birthday party.”

He was beginning to feel more than friendship for Hurrem. Again, no one must be the wiser. Again, the time was not even close to what he and especially his Mother would define as ripe.

“Hurrem, I hope you enjoyed your first important fete in Istanbul. I promise you there will be many more. You dazzled everyone, especially me with your music. I am so happy that my Grandfather has decided to include you in my Mother’s entourage. I hope you are not too frightened by the prospect of being a part of a military campaign.”

“On the contrary there will be much to learn. I shall try not to worry too much about Princess Mother Hafsa and you. The campaign in Egypt and Syria will afford me the opportunity of practicing Arabic while in the field.”

In reality she was terrified at the idea of War. I tremble already at the gruesome fate of soldiers and of people, she thought. Hurrem walked beside Princess Hafsa. Her gelid hands sent stabs of pain through out her hands. Involuntarily she began to massage them. Princess Hafsa noticed but said nothing.

Suleyman observed his Mother and Hurren until they stepped through the threshold of the arched hallway. He sighed without realizing it. 

"With so much happening all at once, I forgot to give Hurrem the gold calligraphy set which I  ordered for myself. Never mind. I shall have another set made. Perhaps I shall stop by tomorrow to give it to her. Oh! I am spending the night at the harem with Gulbahar - Rose of Spring. That means that I shall be late for my visit to the harem. Music must always come before Lust. So be it.  And then he recalled the words of an Islamic Murshid.

”To serve one’s spirit so as to permit neither joy nor sorrow within, but to consider the inevitable as the appointment of destiny and to remain serene, there is the perfection of virtue.”

Suleyman the Magnificent: Birthday Celebration. Part 2

From afar she could see the glimmering flashes of light, which illuminated the Great Hall.

“Over a thousand beeswax candles and several hundred oil lamps have been lit for Prince Suleyman’s fete and to some extent yours as well,” murmured Lady Maryam.

There was a rhythmic hum of conversation emanating from the Great Hall.

The sounds are light hearted and gleeful. Nothing like the wild and raucous parties many Russians indulged in during celebratory holidays and holydays in Russia. The presence of corn alcohol and grape wines surely contributes to such wildness. Of course Islam forbids the use of alcohol. I think I prefer the happy sobriety of the Ottoman society, she mused.

She walked slowly and deliberately. I must not rush headlong into my destiny or as Princess Mother calls it “Kismet”. It will come to me the moment I enter the room. Her heart quickened. Hush, calm down and be at peace, she urged herself.

Lady Maryam stepped into the arch way massed with yellow and white tulips with Hurrem by her side. She squeezed her hand tightly and said through her teeth gazing straight ahead.

“Stand here with your head high, shoulders pushed back slightly, straight back and slowly count to five. Then and only then do we truly go past the tulip arches and let events unfold.”

The peripheral vision of Princess Mother Hafsa was as good as a Peregrine falcon. "My son, your Auntie, Lady Maryam with Lady Hurrem followed by her attendants has arrived. Let us greet them.”

“Indeed Mother. I shall be right behind you,” he replied. This is after all my Mother’s villa and she is hosting the birthday celebrations so I must always give her precedence, he thought.

Suleyman was elated to see Golden Laughing Eyes but somewhat disappointed that a gauzy veil shielded her countenance from everyone including himself. He could not help feeling the beautiful forces that issued forth from her yellow robed and veiled persona.

Perhaps she’ll sing a lively song or two if I ask her. It is my birthday after all. Oh! It’s also her natal day. I forgot to ask Mother if I may gave her a gift. I had better ask her before other things overtake me and the evening will have vanished.

Princess Mother Hafsa and Lady Maryam embrace affectionately. Hurrem observes that they call each other by their first names.

“Welcome Maryam. Thank you for bringing Hurrem with you. Come in Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira.”

Thank you Hafsa. This promises to be a special day for all of us, but in particularly for Suleyman and Hurrem.

“Auntie,” Suleyman bowed, took her proffered hand and touched her hand with his forehead.

“I wish you a mirthful Birthday, my dear Suleyman,” said she cheerily.

Hurrem followed suit and found the Prince repeating the ritual. Thank the Lord for the veil. He cannot see that I am flustered.

Suleyman took his mother aside and murmured into her ear."Have I your approval to remember Hurren's birthday today with a small memento?"

"I'm certain that it will leave her elated. May I ask what it is?"

"It's a calligraphy set in porcelain and lapis lazuli with the writing quills in gold."

"You are a thoughtful and sensitive young man as well as bright and brave warrior."

The Great Hall reminded her of the immense Cathedral in which her Papa /Baba had often preached. “Why ever not, both are of Byzantine origin. I think that nothing lasts forever. That saddens me. Be not sad Hurrem, not today of all days. You must only think golden thoughts and wishes.”

Masses of yellow and white tulips and roses garlanded and festooned the pillars and walls of the hall. Several round tables in gold tablecloths glistened from the gold embroidery and the yellow roses and tulips, which seemed as if they were locked in embrace.

“That is to symbolize Istanbul’s unique position as part of her body is in Europe and the rest lies in Asia,” explained Suleyman.

“Hurrem, take a look at the birthday cake that my chef from France has created for Suleyman. You will also have one though not as elaborate because the culinary staff literally did not have enough time. I promise you, next year you shall have an unforgettable birthday cake,” pronounced The Princess Mother.

She drew in her breath. The white and yellow cake was ten feet tall. Fifteen beeswax candles about a meter high stood atop a circular glass plate, which, gave the appearance of gliding over the cake. A gilded tower complete with golden steps surrounded it to its pinnacle. A lever lowered the tower as the cake shrunk in height.

“I thought this was to be an intimate family reunion,” whispered Hurrem.

“It is, Suleyman always shares his birthday cake with the rest of his military entourage and his pages," whispered back Princess Hafsa.

Four men who appeared to be in various stages of maturity formed a circle around Suleyman and talked softly among themselves.

"Who are those men? I think they are important," queried Hurrem.

“More lessons, my dear. I’ll begin with the youngest one. The tall young man with the dark gray woolen robe is studying to be a Sufi. He is Sut Karash, milk brother to Suleyman. The elegant man in the green caftan with the matching turban is Imam Malik, Suleyman’s Arabic tutor since he was four years old. Standing next to him is Suleyman’s physician Mordechai. He is my father and taught me everything there is to know about medicine. We are Judeans. My father and Imam Malik witnessed Suleyman’s birth from behind a screen. Thus, they have tutored him in the Qur’an and in the Torah respectively since he was a child. I was the midwife who delivered Suleyman. They are very devoted friends. Imam Kemal, who is turbaned in blue, is the most influential cleric in the Ulema – the religious Council. In keeping with the urbane nature of Suleyman Iman Kemal is a Kurd. He looks up to them and they hold their young Prince in high esteem. They all have the highest hopes for him,” replied Lady Maryam.

“That is the beauty of being veiled. I can study them to my heart’s content. I can feel their eagle eyes upon me, penetrating my invisible veils. Let them. I am not afraid. They are learned men like my father. I wonder if any of them will be my tutors?”

Princess Hafsa linked her fingers into Hurrem and said softly, ”you need to meet the Muslim Imams and the Judean teacher of Suleyman. You will begin your study of the Qur’an tomorrow in Arabic.”

“But Princess Mother, I don’t know what to say.”

“You are not expected to say anything today. Let them do all the talking and the asking. Don’t give them your hand. Just make a slight bow to each man, except for Imam Kemal in blue. He is Primus inter Pares in the Ulema. You must lower your head and keep it down longer. Cultivate him with your piety. Someday it might prove to be fruitful."

“I am in your hands my Princess Mother,” she murmured as she felt herself being gently led towards the holy men and Suleyman.

“Would you not say instead that you are in the hands of God, my lovely child?”

“Umm, at this precise moment I think that being in your resourceful and powerful hands suits me more,” she replied without the slightest hesitation.

Princess Hafsa smothered a hearty chuckle and cautioned her with a soft “shhhh.”

Hurrem did exactly as she was told. She bowed slightly towards Sut Karash, Suleyman’s peer and milk brother; kept her head down a few seconds longer as she faced Imam Malik and Master Mordechai. She honored Imam Kemal with an even longer one although it was barely noticed except by Sulkeyman and the Imam himself.

Imam Kemal was the first one to address her. “So you are the musician, singer and composer brought to us by Princess Hafsa. Music is closest to Godliness. Don’t you think so Golden Laughing Eyes?”

His attitude was simple and forthright with no artifice. She felt at peace in his presence. In fact the four pious and erudite men gave her a great sense of serenity.

“Yes Imam Kemal. I think that it the reason why the Prophet Mohammed asked the Ethiopian Bilal to call the people to prayer in musical chants, after he had learnt all the shuras and hadiths,” she replied, taking the utmost care to keep her voice as respectful and as mellifluous as possible.

A hint of a smile formed on his lips but he remained silent. No one else spoke. This did not render her uneasy or nervous.

“I love Silence. Music is full of pauses. Silence in this case might be more golden than gold. Who ever said human beings had to babble on continuously in conversation?"

"Hurrem is relaxed among us even in the midst of our silence, which in truth speaks volumes. If they are roses they will bloom," pondered Imam Kemal.

Jibril, the Officer of the Janissaries permanently assigned to Princess Hafsa’s Villa Krasivaya approached her. He made a point of greeting the Imams first.

“Salam Aleikum,” he said bowing his head almost to his chest.

“Aleikum Salam,” they replied with informal dignity.

And then he turned towards Princess Hafsa and did not attempt to hide the urgency in his voice.

“Princess Hafsa, Sultan Selim is on his way here. His estimated time of arrival is exactly 15 minutes from now,” he said in heavily accented Turkish, one of the Mongol-Ugric tongues.Officer Jibril was Serbian from Kosovo, a proud warrior of Islam first and second a dedicated Officer to Sultan Selim.

“Thank you Officer Jibril for the advance notice. We are ready to receive him. We realize Sultan Selim is a very busy man. Suleyman and I appreciate the fact that he has taken the time from his endless affairs of war and state to come today,” replied the Princess in almost flawless Turkish.

“Princess Hafsa, the Sultan himself has informed us of his forthcoming visit. It must be portentous,” said Imam Kemal who had always shown his respect and esteem for Princess Hafsa and the extraordinary way she had brought up Suleyman.

The pages ascended the round tower, which surrounded the immense birthday cake.

“Come on Ibrahim. Let us join them and help them light my candles,” exclaimed Suleyman.

It was only at that moment that Hurrem saw a tall, olive skinned young man not much older than Suleyman sprint from the far corner of the Great Hall to join him.

“Who is he and why does he have such a casual manner around Suleyman,” she murmured directly into the ear of Princess Hafsa.

“That is Ibrahim, my son’s best friend since the age of five. His parents are Greek fishermen. They now own dozens of fishing boats thanks to him. Ibrahim is highly intelligent and is endowed with an eye for detail like a Carthusian monk. He will make an extraordinary Administrator for Suleyman someday in the not too distant future,” replied Princess Hafsa.

Ibrahim is a formidable opportunist. I wonder how much he truly loves Prince Suleyman? Only time will tell us that. In the meantime I shall be outwardly friendly and charming but my inner voices warn me to remain ever vigilant regarding Ibrahim. I need not voice this opinion to the Princess Mother or least of all to Suleyman who loves him more than Ibrahim seems to love him. I am only 13 years old. I have often been wrong. So, we shall see as time goes by, reflected Hurrem.

“May I watch their preparations and maneuvers in the tower as the young men led by Suleyman and Ibrahim prepare to light the regal candles?”

“Certainly Hurrem. You shall meet Ibrahim later in the evening in case you are curious to know more about him first hand."

“I am very interested in learning all I can about all the individuals Prince Suleyman has surrounded himself with since his child hood. It will aid me in understanding him and as a consequence in understanding them so I can truly become his best friend.”

“Let’s watch what they are doing shall we," Princess Hafsa told her with a hug.

They filled all the steps, and then slowly and deliberately passed oil lit torches until the men at the top – Suleyman and Ibrahim among them, found themselves eyeball to eyeball with the tall candles. One by one they lit them.

“Hurrah! We did it in record time. Thank you Ibrahim. Thank you all. Now we must descend swiftly and stand at attention for my father’s arrival.”

Cheers greeted Suleyman when he touched the blue veined marble tiles and he acknowledged this by smiling at all those who stood around him.

The candles will all be shimmering by the time my Babba, (Sultan Selim) arrives with his select group of Janissaries,” grinned Suleyman.

Suddenly the roar of hundreds of horses riding to a rhythm of kettle drums on the cobble stoned street almost overpowered those inside the villa. They waited for the larger than life figure of the Sultan with conflicting emotions.

The Imams counseled him on religious matters.

“Unlike Suleyman the Sultan looked at life and war in clear terms of black and white, friends/allies or foes. One’s foes had to die. One’s friends received rich rewards,” considered Imam Malik as he sipped the last dregs of his strong Mokha coffee.

"My spies inform me that the Sultan has never attended any of his numerous sons’ birthdays, nor much less, gifted then with fine horses or remembered the days their mothers birthed them. I will not have much longer to wait for yet another confirmation of his preference for my son as the future Sultan of the Ottoman Empire."

The Healer Mordechai edged nearer to his closest friend, Imam Kemal. “Kemal, dearest friend, you and I witnessed the birth of Suleyman under the most positive auspices and confluence of our Kabbalistic calendar as well as your Islamic calendar. Yet I cannot help feeling apprehension for our Prince. The intrigues taking place in the harem and the jockeying for position among his half-brothers are infested with evil ambitions. The Law of Fratricide is a long tradition among the Mongols and we both know that the Sultan has no intentions of revoking the Law.”

“That is sadly correct my dearest Mordechai. Study keenly the other side of these sharp double-edged swords. Once upon a time, the Ottomans were Mongols. Today they are very far from their steppes and tundras. As we both did on that fateful November day 15 years ago, we gaze at our Suleyman with the same wonder which filled us then. Only more so, for our studies of the planets and the stars and of human nature reassures that the Sultan will find other ways to ensure the accession of Suleyman to the throne.”

‘If everything goes well… as a rule, nothing ever does. I am holding onto the prophesies in the Kabbalah and that alone tranquilizes me.”

“Sultan Selim has not persecuted the Sufi mystics unlike other Islamic Rulers in Iran and Arabia Felix; on the other hand the Sufis throughout Turkey and beyond have not received any assistance or support from him either. I suppose that is something to give thanks to Our Beloved,” (God the Creator) reflected Sut Karash, Suleyman’s milk brother.

Fra - Brother Domenico, the Franciscan friar who was a confidante of Princess Hafsa observed the many scenes unfolding before his eyes with a certain detachment. Like the Founder of his Order, Saint Francis of Assisi, he sought simplicity and did not fear poverty. “Never a beggar of the soul and spirit. Suleyman is rich in those qualities despite his flaire for opulence.”

“I am feeling a jumble of vibrations as we all stand and wait for the Sultan to make his entry. Fear is present at this moment but I also perceive joy and great expectations. Che sara, sara,” prayed Hurrem silently.

I have always found my father to be thoughtful, affectionate and generous towards me. Yet at the back of my mind, Sultan Selim the Cruel, which is the name he is known by allies, friends and enemies does strike a chord of awareness at how vulnerable I am to his decisions and even to his whims. There is still the nagging question of seven half- brothers before me inline for the throne. Really, it’s all in the hands of Allah. However, I will not make it easy for him or for any of my step-brothers to kill me, should it ever come to that, may God forbid it.

Still he braced himself for whatever would befall him. He admired Julius Caesar’s bravery and stoic nature in the face of impossible odds. He was not a gambler by nature, He would never say Iacta Alea Est. Let the dice fly. Well, at the very least, he hoped that he would never say it for it implied a recklessness and an undaunted bravery. He believed in the pursuit of God and Knowledge and some of the knowledge gleaned and discerned and perceived signified the correct information necessary in order to become a formidable General and Conqueror.

The Grand Stairs leading to the Great Hall reverberated the enveloping laughter of Sultan Selim and his Janissaries and Sipahis.

An elegant man who was closer to this side of tall, sporting a tan as deep as the color of chestnuts and thick arms that resembled gnarled roots of a baobab tree bounded into the hall. He stood erect, hazel eyes darting and nostrils flaring.

My father is a Predator, but even predators protect their young. His demeanor tells me that he has wonderful news to tell.

Whatever news Selim has to say it can only go my son’s way. I can tell.

"Come into my arms ravishing Hafsa, Om Suleyman (Arabic for Mother) and Confidante of the Sultan, “ he declared, sweeping her off her feet and clasping her against his royal blue robe.

In those rare moments in which Sultan Selim allowed himself human sentiments, Princess Hafsa considered it wise and prudent to remain speechless, smiling and pliant against his massive and hard frame.

He espied Suleyman standing close behind his mother. His son was majestic, serene and his grey blue eyes betrayed his happiness at seeing him, his father.

”He will develop into a beautiful specimen of manhood. He’ll be wiser and more compassionate than I ever was or will be. I was not gifted with a mother such as Hafsa. Mine spoiled me but did not teach me or form me as a man and leader. I can’t even be sure she loved me,” he mulled in painful recollection.

“Babba, We are honored. I am honored that you took the time to come to my mother’s Villa for my birthday celebrations.” His voice was crystalline and conveyed his pure joy. His demeanor was natural and spontaneous.

“There is nothing deceitful or cloying about Suleyman’s attitude,” considered Sultan Selim in silence.

And then he slowly disengaged himself from Princess Hafsa’s arms, placed her delicately on the marble tiles. Suleyman took a step forward and taking the initiative, clasped his father to his arms and kissed his twice on both cheeks. This display of affection moved Selim.

”The youth is not afraid of me. I can tell. He is truly possessed of a filial devotion towards me. I thank and praise Allah for this.”

Sultan Selim had a deep wound in his heart because his mother had never loved him though he would never, never tell. Princess Hafsa had filled i in partt with her loyalty and her genuine friendship and counsel. Suleyman had accomplished the rest with his enthusiasm and eagerness to spend as much time with his father as he could. They remained entwined in each other’s arms.

“Did you like the horses from Araby,” Sultan Selim asked in a horse whisper.

‘Babba, I was overwhelmed with all 50 of them. I chose the handsomest and brightest white stallion with the incredible flowing mane like Pegasus. I have named him Jamil, ( handsome in Arabic). I gave an ebony beauty to Ibrahim so that he would not feel left out and nurse resentments towards me,” he replied sotto voce with a slightly quivering voice.

“Good, my Son. Now let us enjoy the bounty which your mother, my Special Princess Hafsa has prepared for us.”

They parted. The stillness in the Great Hall was ponderous. Sultan Selim bowed and pierced the quietude with a thunderous voice injected with gaiety.

“Salam Aleikum!”

“Aleikum Salam!” they replied. Sultan Selim was in a jovial mood. Everything would proceed smoothly.

“Good. Now that we have dispensed with the religious greetings let us move on to more practical matters. That birthday cake is more tempting to me than a houri,” declared Sultan Selim in an amused tone of voice.

Indeed, the ten foot high cake with its candles one meter high shone like a pyramid of sweets in the Heavens.

"And well it should,” laughed Princess Hafsa. “I designed it and had the chef bake it layer by layer. It contains the most heavenly delicacies you and Suleyman are fond of.

“Imam Malik, Iman Kemal, Doctor Mordechai and Fra Domenico will you please accompany me, Om Suleyman and Suleyman on the steps leading up to the top? Once we are there, the rest of our honored guests can follow.”

He linked arms with Princess Hafsa and Suleyman.

“Hafsa , are you sure we are not going to come crashing down on our whatsis?”

Suleyman bit his tongue. “Babba, the Mater’s chef is as good as your engineers,” he retorted in silence. After all, the question was directed at my Mother, she was never at a loss for words. She will know just what to say,” he laughed inwardly.

‘You must be joking Selim.” He was smiling broadly.

“Of course I am, but one never knows. The best laid plans of mice and women…”

“Beloved, if this tower collapses it might kill us all but it will not make us look ridiculous,” she replied quickly.

“A point that I can appreciate. On that note, Suleyman and I will ascend with you to show you how much we trust you and the people you have always chosen to perform the most intricate and complicated tasks. Do you know that this revolving tower on wheels with its levers will make a superb war machine?”

The thought had come to her as the chef who used to be a surveyor and his assistants labored over the tower but she certainly was not going to reveal this to her husband in everything but the formalities.

“Is that so my Sultan?” she gave him a radiant smile and coquettishly tossed her veiled turban. “ I hope you will explain it to me in the not too distant future.”

“I see exactly what Babba means. Actually with minor adjustments we could make it even more lethal,’” opined Suleyman as their golden babouches touched the top step of the tower.

“Spoken like a true warrior,” said Sultan Selim.

A carved wrought iron railing, which reached up to Suleyman’s waist, surrounded the tower. Lying on a jeweled scabbard on the floor of the step was a long golden cake cutter.

It must have been commissioned by Mater expressly for this occasion.

”Thank you dearest Mater. You have thought of everything, don’t you agree Babba?”

“I most certainly do. My compliments Hafsa. You are the only woman I know who always surpasses herself. You never disappoint in any way.”

“May I do the honors," asked Suleyman directing his gaze first towards his Mother and then to his Father.

They held hands, nodded and smiled their assent. Suleyman lifted the golden cutter and kept it by his right side, blade down. He was waiting for all the guests to fill the tower.

The religious clerics, the Judean physician and the young Sufi slowly ascended the step on which stood Sultan Selim, Princess Hafsa and Suleyman. More embraces, hugs and words of affection were exchanged.

Folowing close behind them was Lady Maryam with Hurrem on her right and Ibrahim on her left.

“Not only must I thank Princess Hafsa every day of my life for carrying and giving me such a splendid son in every way, I thank Lady Maryam from the bottom of my heart for delivering such a strong and healthy boy with no complications for either one of them. We owe all this of course to the source, my trusted Doctor Mordechai who trained his daughter in all the knowledge possible and more of Medicine,” said Sultan Selim bending low to take her hand and raise it towards his heart and then to his forehead as a sign of respect.

“What is going on? Babba is full of unending compliments tonight!

And suddenly he fixed his eyes on Hurrem. ”I know about you, young Lady Hurrem of the Golden Laughing Eyes. Princess Hafsa has told me quite a lot.”

She decided that silence and a humble demeanor was the best reply. She bowed deeply and placed her right hand towards her heart, lips and forehead.

I am going to do exactly as I have seen Lady Maryam do.

The Sultan ran his eyes toward Ibrahim. “My how you have grown since the last time I saw you. I hope you and Suleyman perform your Mongol and Chinese martial arts every day. I am grateful for your true friendship towards my son. After all the two of you grew up together since early childhood.”

“No matter how gracious the Sultan is, he always puts me on the qui vive. I can’t explain it but he and Suleyman inspire me to take care and behave impeccably.”

Ibrahim gave him the Islamic warrior’s salute. Right hand elevated at a right angle to one’s body , much like the Roman Ave. Then the right arm was brought across the chest where one’s hand touched one’s heart. As this was done, he bowed and said "Sultan Selim.”

The attendants and slaves filled the steps and smiled their greetings towards their Sultan.

“I bid you a most cordial welcome. I know Princess Hafsa as well as Prince Suleyman is very fond of all of you. That means that you are, without exception under my protection.”

It was a feat to accomplish but every man and woman, attendant and slave knelt spontaneously and stood up as if they were one body.

Suleyman paused to admire the yellow and white cake with the white icing made of pure cream in the shape of tulips and roses. The candles cast a shadow on the vaulted ceiling and gave a golden glow to the cake.

“I think I shall create new traditions. First , Iman Kemal could pronounce a small prayer, followed by Physician Mordechai and then Fra Domenico in their respective faiths. I hope Sut Karash will not refuse to recite a poem. Last but not least my cup will overflow if Hurrem sings one of her songs a capella. My joy will be complete if my parents say a few words. For as long as they and I am alive I pray that this new customs be observed. Then and only then, as the 15 candles burn their light and fire towards the skies should we sing a song of felicitation. After which Ibrahim, Sut Karash, Hurrem and I should blow out the candles with the fervent wish that none of us is so maladroit as to fall into the cake,” affirmed Suleyman to wild and enthusiastic applause.

“The Princess and I can forgive all you young people anything so to speak, except drowning in a beautiful and extravagant birthday cake,” said the Sultan in a lightly mocking voice.

It was Suleyman’s irrepressive humor showing forth. The chef and his assistants had asked the blacksmiths at the Bazaar in Istanbul to fashion long candle snuffers in an amalgam of bronze and slack. They resembled the ones used to turn out the candles at the high altar in the Byzantine Cathedral of Haghia Sophia before the fall of Constantinople- now Istanbul. Mehmet the Conqueror, Suleyman’s great-grandfather had immediately converted the Cathedral into a Mosque.

The young people bent over with an almost uncontrollable laughter."The cake is composed of layers, said layers are of light birchwood. Thanks to the ingenuity of the Chef, we could not drown if we tried," retorted Suleyman.

"I could not agree with Prince Suleyman more. The worse that can happen to us if we're clumsy is to have our faces  caked in cream and pastry. That's preferable to mud," said Hurrem. 

“Listen she's right. So let’s be organized about this. Ibrahim and Sut Karash should each put out a total of eight candles. Since Hurrem and I share the same birthday I think it is only fair that I should take care of three candles and Hurrem four because I was taught that Ladies always come first.

“Hurrah Suleyman! Hurrem Hurrah,” exclaimed the Sultan.

That was the signal to begin the ceremonies. Imam kemal of the Ulema led the festive group in prayer

"Allahu Akbar! he intoned.

To be continued.

Suleyman the Magnificent: Birthday Celebration - Part 1

The Birthday Celebration

“Mater, Thank you again for being so thoughtful in introducing Lady Hurrem into my life. She is a joy to behold and to listen to. I think we spoke through the Music. We may even be friends already. I hope she attends the feast you have planned and prepared for me,” said a breathless Suleyman as he escorted his Mother to the Great Hall, which would be the scene of the celebratory events marking his 15th birthday.

“Indeed my son I have invited the Lady Hurrem. Her three companions will accompany her. I have asked Lady Maryam to escort her to the Great Hall. The Sultan himself has sent word that he will drop by after the dinner to watch you blow out your tall beeswax candles,” she confided.

“I can’t believe Father is coming. I wonder why?”

“Not for you to question Suleyman, only to take into account and reflect deeply,” replied his mother cryptically.

“Oh, one more thing, Could we hold a celebration for Lady Hurrem? I understand that she turns thirteen today. Is that not uncanny Mamushka? We share the same birthday. I hope it is not to much to ask of you at this late stage,” he gazed at his Mother with flushed cheeks.

“What you ask is very doable. Maryam and I have ensured that Hurrem of the Golden Laughing Eyes shall have a memorable birthday fete in Istanbul."

"Mater, you are generous and kind. I am proud to have you for a mother."

"My darling, we must not tarry and walk as fast as we can. You don’t want to be late for your guests. That would be rude. A future Sultan must always think of the welfare of others. He must always be punctual for all his appointments. Be they war campaigns, political negotiations or family reunions."

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I need to hurry through this corridors and hallway. To keep the Host and Hostess waiting is not only impolite but also imprudent, thought Golden Laughing Eyes.

"Remember to make an imperious entrance but do not overdo it. Your attendants will be right behind you. Lady Maryam will escort you to the Great Hall,” Princess Hafsa whispered into her delicately formed ears before departing on the arms of her son.

The paintings on the walls are so opulent in their Islamic simplicity I keep stopping to admire their intricate designs,’’ Hurrem spoke out loud.

She heard footsteps darting loudly through the corridors.

“Our Lady Hurrem! Where are you?”

Ah! That must be Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira. “I am (I think) just around this hall.”

They spotted her and sprinted towards her.

There you are. Please come quickly. We haven’t much time. You need to change into your party robe and select the jewels which the Princess Mother has gifted you on the occasion of your birthday,” said Zelfa with anxiety in her voice.

May God bless Princess Mother Hafsa. I am not worthy of such bounty. But then, who am I to wonder about the mysterious ways in which God works?

Hurrem gazed at her three attendants whom she hoped would be her friends for all time. “Fine, hold my hand Zelfa and Suheyla and let’s make a dash for my suite. Zahira, please lead the way. One, Two, Three, Go!”

Well, a girl will be a girl I suppose. I’m willing to wager that holding a marathon through the hallways of Hafsa’s villa was Hurrem’s idea, mused Lady Maryam as all four girls panted into view.

Hurrem stopped in her tracks but did not appear to be embarrassed.

"You see Lady Maryam; I think I may be late and running as fast as Atalanta was the only way to reach my destination."

“Now you are sweating and need to shower quickly, before the gold and white robe can be placed on your person,” she explained patiently.

A shower? What is that?

“Girls, please show Lady Hurrem the spouts in her bathroom which come from the fountains in our gardens.

Hurrem studied the porcelain spouts placed above her head and around the walls of a stall covered in lapis lazuli. She found herself devoid of clothes and gently pushed inside. And then her attendants/slaves turned gilded tulip circlets towards the right and she was sprayed with water, which, came from all directions

“Ooh, this feels like hundreds of droplets of rain are coming down upon me. It feels delicious. If it wasn’t for this splendid dinner party I could stay here all night,” she exclaimed.

“Not this time girl,” chuckled Maryam.

“I am well aware of that. It was just a rhetorical statement,” gurgled Hurrem with her eyes shut, as she let the water splash down on her still unripened girlish body.

I am more than ever convinced that Hurrem is going to turn out more than Hafsa or any of us has bargained for. Truth be told, she had not haggled with the Armenian merchant. Her Greek eunuch Demetrius who was her most trusted accountant had simply placed two huge sacks of gold in front of the slave trader’s greedy nose.

“Princess Hafsa is offering you the sum of 20 thousand gold florins for the young Russian girl and her father the Bishop. This time there will be no haggling. You are free of course to refuse the offer, in which case you must leave Istanbul and relinquish your license to sell slaves throughout the Ottoman Empire for ten years.”

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‘Tonight, I am going to be veiled throughout the duration of the fete. I think it’s rather mysterious. Besides I may as well grow accustomed to it.

“Let me see, which robe shall I choose? All are comely. This is a difficult task.

Lady Maryam and her attendants remained silent.

“Let us see what Hurrem comes up with. How marvelous to be thirteen years old again and the most pressing thought on your mind is which extravagant and luscious robe to adorn yourself with.”

She studied them all with care. One particular robe struck her. It seemed to speak to her. It was sun yellow entirely surrounded by hand-embroidered tulips in a lemon yellow.

“I shall wear this magnificent robe and no other. The matching veil will be breathtaking. I would like the Al-Amira on my head as a tall turban that will cover all of my hair. Which of you knows how to create one?”

I shall drape a most unusual turban for you,” said Lady Maryam.

“Shall we line your eyes with a little kahol?’ asked Zelfa.

“No thank you. It’s too soon to wear cosmetics. I would like to wear the gold pectoral with those flowers again which I have never seen in Russia.”

“They are called tulips. Prince Suleyman has financed a vast horticultural project to produce these large tulips. Originally they grew wild in Anatolia and Circassia as small flowers that caressed the slopes of the mountains. We are the only ones in the world to have developed tulips,” replied Lady Maryam. She could not hide the pride in her voice.

“I presume that tulips are white and yellow. By the time I am ready to be seen in scarlet I hope that Prince Suleyman’s experts will have developed tulips of that color.”

“That is correct Hurrem of the Golden Laughing Eyes, our breeders are very close to a breakthrough. Prince Suleyman is following their progress closely,” said Lady Maryam.

“Tulips it shall be. I pray that I will be granted an opportunity to see these tulips which so remind me of a chalice.” Hurrem declared still admiring the robe.

Zelfa placed a lacey support to hold her small breasts. Suheyla buttoned it down her back. Then Zahira slipped on a form fitting linen chemise, which came to her ankles. She stepped into her splendid yellow robe barefoot. Zelfa did the tiny buttons that matched the fabric while Suheyla worked on the top ones. Zahira brought forth a 7-centimeter belt intricately carved in golden tulips. She cinched this over Hurrem’s waist.

“I’ll place the turban that I have draped on your head. Keep your eyes on the full-length mirror. I think it’s very becoming. Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes and yes! “ cried out Hurrem in delight.

Zelfa placed gossamer socks on her feet and Suheyla inserted golden babouches decorated with golden tassels.

The gauzy veil was inserted inside her turban at her forehead and pinned with golden tulips; Her matching golden pectoral covered her neck and her breasts.

This is amazing. I can see 360 degrees in detail, but those gazing at me will only catch a glimpse of my good looks. Papa here I come. I am putting on the most beautiful face. It is so beautiful and solar that no veil on earth can stop Prince Suleyman from discerning what lies behind the veil.

Lady Maryam adjusted her own veil and straightened the five-pointed star of Turquoise she worn over her emerald green robe embroidered in blue roses.

Are we all ready to enter the Great hall, Hurrem, Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira?

Silence.

Ayy! I didn’t realize that they are waiting for me to reply.

“But of course my Lady Maryam. My compliments to you and to my three new friends for all the assistance you have given me.”

And then Laughing Golden Eyes took a long and deep breath.

Yes. I am ready to face the unknown. Let us not keep Kismet waiting any longer.”

Music of our Love - Part 2

From where she stood, she could see a narrow room covered with mirrors. She entered the room and studied the dazzling turquoise blue tiles of the rectangular washbasin. The sun blazed through the cut glass window. She liked her reflection on the mirror. Masses of long curly red locks adorned her tear-streaked face. She had never seen hair the color of Princess Hafsa’s Perhaps she used a substance? Well, she would find out soon enough.

“Ah! There you are” said an attractive woman, with a pleasant voice emanating from a green robe. From around her neck dangled an enormous five-pointed star, encrusted in turquoise.

“I am … I was Tatiana, but today, I think my old name no longer suits me. For the time being, Laughing Golden Eyes will do.“ She bowed her head gracefully and slightly, without hauteur, but with just the right amount of respect. ”You must be Lady Maryam.”

“I am she, and Laughing Golden Eyes suits you. In Turkish, it is Hurrem, not that any one of us is really fluent in it.” She took Hurrem by the hand. ”We must hurry. I assume along with your many talents you are a good rider?”

“I have bested many young men,” she replied, letting herself be led away

Maryam mused and chuckled within her, ”I think she is going to be more than any of us wished for. Princess Hafsa is wise in the ways of the world, especially the men’s universe. Being a woman, she is on to every feminine trick, as well.”

She displayed several gauzy veils for her to inspect. “You are thirteen. It is an Islamic custom for girls of that age to cover their face and hair with the veil. You will wear it among men who are strangers, except in the presence of your Prince- Suleyman, the Princess Mother, the Chief Black Eunuch, your father, Brother Dominic and all the girls and women inside the harem.”

“You left someone out of that list, yourself,” said Laughing Golden Eyes.

It had been deliberate on Maryam’s part. She was interested in knowing just how well the young girl listened while others spoke and how sensitive she was to those around her.

“Of course we shall see each other often. I shall be one of your teachers. I didn’t mean to take myself off the list,” she said.

“I should like that very much.”

Covering her face with a veil did not seem an excessive sacrifice to her. So long as she was free to continue her pursuit of music and knowledge, a silk veil over her face was perfectly acceptable. “Put on a good face,” she remembered her father’s last words.

“This is the bond of Hurrem, I shall and I will wear the veil. I hope someday, to have veils as opulent as the Princess Mother’s.”

Maryam’s robe was a deep burgundy, so she chose a frothy dark green one. Maryam showed her where the clips were to attach them properly.

“Once your eyes have been lined with Kachol, (kajal) they will jump out and devour most anyone.”

There stood a chestnut-maned Arabian mare, with the prettiest almond eyes she had ever seen. She ran her hands down her velvet neck. There was a hand-tooled saddle on her.

“What’s her name?”

Maryam replied, getting into her own Arabian horse effortlessly.

“That’s entirely up to you.”

Hurrem hesitated. She noticed it and reassured her she should first get on the saddle, try it on for size, and proceed on their journey through the streets of Istanbul, to the Palace in Pera, by the Bosporus. She could be thinking of it as they rode.

Never one to waver, Hurrem asked ”What’s the word in Arabic for beautiful?

“There must be hundreds of adjectives to describe beautiful. Arabic is an even richer language than Latin, and that is saying a great deal,” replied Maryam.

“Just tell me please, a word you know.”

“Jamila.“

“Jamila, it is. Thank you.” replied Hurrem. ”Come Jamila, show me a gallop!”

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A thousand thoughts ran over Hurrem’s mind, as she sat on a gilded chair, surrounded by musical instruments in silver.

“This will be your music room. You may play them as often and as late into the night as you wish … after you have done your lessons.”

These centered on a profound and daunting study of the Qur’an. She would commit all the shuras and hadiths of the Prophet Mohammed to memory. After she had mastered reading the Qur’an in Arabic, she could read the works of Ibn Batuta Ibn Khaldoun, and other names she could not remember just now.

The awe inspiring Arabic calligraphy was a must, as was Persian. In addition, to reading the works of the French Troubadours, she would take on Boccaccio, Petrarch and Dante, in the Tuscan dialect.

There would be endless court etiquette to learn. On top of all that, she had to learn Turkish, the language of the Turkic – Mongol tribe, the Othman – Ottoman, which had left the steppes of Central Asia a hundred years ago, to conquer all the Byzantine lands, especially Byzantium, now known as Turkey with its capital Istanbul (the former Constantinople).

“Listen carefully, Hurrem,” said the Princess Mother Hafsa.” Your most important duty will be as friend and companion to Prince Suleyman. Keep him amused, entertained, and charmed, play and sing together, ride together, and engage him in a duel at shahmat (chess). Do not let him win because you wish to please him. He’ll see through you and he’ll be disappointed. Challenge him enough so that he never loses his interest in you.”

“Never, never bed him nor allow him to kiss you or fondle you. Never show him your nakedness except that of your heart and mind. Remember, you are not his concubine. Your home is with me. You do not belong in the harem, although you are free to go into the harem as often as you wish and make friends with some of the odalisques. For the time being my motherly advice to you is to sty out of the harem.

Hurrem could smell the essence of pink roses on her skin. It wafted into her nostrils, intoxicating her. Her golden red hair was decorated with tiny scented white roses.

“These are all difficult tasks Princess Mother, but I shall endeavor to succeed.”

“I’m sure you will my dear child. I believe in your strong character and morality. Now let’s see…” she said gesturing jeweled hands and armlets towards a movable armoire of gilded wood. It was entirely hand decorated in blue colored bulbuls-nightingales. Three giggling slave girls glided it on wheels and stopped in front of Princess Mother. They slid the armoire open with graceful gestures.

“Let’s see,” she repeated, “what ensemble would you like to wear?”

“I would like to try the white robe embroidered in silver thread,” she glanced at the Princess Mother to gauge her reaction.

“A wise choice,” she replied, ”White symbolizes light.”

“And purity Princess Mother Hafsa,” she murmured.

“I am certain that the colors will not be lost on Suleyman,” reflected Princess Hamsa.

“Have you seen first blood yet?”

“Oh no. It will come when I’m ready,” she smiled, showing off her three dimples, one on each cheek and another one on her chin.

“The slave girls are your dressers and assistants. Be kind and patient with them. I do not tolerate mistreatment of any sort, not even rudeness. Ah, here’s Lady Maryam, my best friend.”

Both young women hugged affectionately. Princess Hamsa spoke to Hurrem.

“You remember her this morning at my house near the slave merchants?” Tatiana nodded. “She may have informed you that she will be your teacher and confidante. I am now confirming it,” said Princess Hamsa.

“I think the Lady Maryam will be an inspiring teacher,” replied Laughing Golden Eyes.

Princess Hafsa seemed pleased. “We shall meet again later in the day. Remember, you and I must always converse in Russian, is that clear?”

Without waiting for a reply, she whirled and strode imperiously down the wide halls of her palace so quickly that Tatiana stopped breathing for a few seconds.

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“Take a deep breath, Hurrem, the girl of the Golden Laughing Eyes who used to be Tatiana not so long ago,” said Lady Maryam. “We are rather pressed for time and there is much to do. Follow me.”

So the gilded armoire stuffed with gowns and robes one more beautiful than the other was to be for her exclusive use. “ I don’t know what to think I’m so excited.”

She lost herself in a maze of thoughts and emotions and did not pay attention to the corridors and halls they traversed. Soon, she found herself inside a large yellow room that reminded her of a prism. She gasped. Every window refracted light in a different way because the colors of the stained glass designs created those patterns and illuminations.

Lady Maryam smiled and spoke first. “Before you take in your surroundings, and examine your suite of rooms, I would like you to get to know your slaves.

The tallest blonde in the emerald green robe is the eldest at twenty. She is Zelfa. She comes from Circassia.

Suheyla, the dark-haired girl in orange is Persian. She will teach you how to play Shahmat (chess) and become a skillful player.

Zahira is the other blonde with her hair in plaits. She is Serbian and no one knows gems and minerals better than she.

All the girls will familiarize you with your surroundings and your toilette. I must go and assist with the preparations for the celebrations and receptions which will take place until well into the night.”

Lady Maryam hugged Hurrem and planted a light kiss atop her mass of golden-red hair. “ Be of good cheer. You are in good hands,” she murmured.

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Hurrem observed that her three slave girls entered the gilt and blue tiled bathroom with her.

“Ah that will not do. I am not going to undress in the presence of any one, not even women. I am quite capable of washing and cleansing myself,” she mused

“Please don’t take offense Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira. I am used to doing all my ablutions by myself.”

They smiled with compassion and told her.” We understand your modesty Golden Laughing Eyes.”

She is only thirteen, a virgin and inviolate. We are not here to give her a hard time, on the contrary. We are here to look after her wellbeing.

“Allow us to show you a few things like how your bath pool works and how to regulate the flow of warm water and the degree of heat you wish for your bath.”

“You need to know how to use the steam room properly, you where to find your bathrobes and towels and the use of the different herbs for your hair and body.”

I must not be churlish to the … towards my slaves. I consider them more my helpers and friends, as Cleopatra with her handmaidens. Let them show me everything and then I can be alone and feel comfortable with my thoughts. “You are right of course, how silly of me. Please show me everything I need to know,” Tatiana replied by way of an apology.

All four entered the magnificent bathroom, which in Arabic is called a hammam. Tatiana gasped once again. Porcelain tiles of blue tulips tiles tinged with white covered the ceiling and the walls. The floor was a contrast in white tulips with a shade of blue. The washbowl was an iridescent blue and its two porcelain spigots seemed to have been crafted by a master for they seemed like real tulips. Tatiana took a closer look at the washbowl and the tulip spigots with specks of gold to numerous to count.

"They remind me of the dark blue heavens with all the stars blazing,” stated Tatiana excitedly.

“It’s lapis lazuli,” said Zahira.

“This semi-precious gem is mined in Central Asia close to the …

“I know, the Russian steppes.” Tatiana interrupted Zelfa.

The pool, which she presumed to be her bath, was also in the same lapis lazuli. Garlands of jasmine surrounded its edge. Seven wide steps led down to the pool that was devoid of water at the moment.

“It must come up to my shoulders!” exclaimed Tatiana.

“The ancient Romans had pools like these. The former occupants of this Villa were Byzantines but clearly influenced by things Roman,” explained Suheyla.

“Who would not be if they had any sense of civility? In Russia we had huge metal round tubs. The servants poured warm water from big pots that boiled in the fireplace. Papa always said Cleanliness was next to Godliness. I spent at least an hour or more every day on that tub. This will be heaven,” Tatiana declared.

She swirled around in delight and then asked perplexed.” But where are the windows. I shall surely suffocate with all that steamy water.”

Her slaves showed her that three large windows had been embedded into the tiled walls. When you opened them, sunshine streamed through the latticed windows.

An armoire of carved wrought iron shaped like leaves gave it a light and airy feeling. Through the leaves she espied what she took to be her bathrobes and towels.

Two matching wrought iron tables held blue and green porcelain and ceramic bowls and bottles shaped like butterflies that surprised and delighted her.

“These contain essential oils like bergamot from Sicily, camellia from China, camphor from Yemen and olive oil from Tuscany. The Princess Mother observed that you do not decorate your face with either henna or cosmetics, nor do you line your eyes. She likes that. You are a natural beauty after all,” explained Zelfa whom Tatiana deduced to be the eldest among the three.

“It would make me ever so happy if you Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira would prepare my bath and my hammam every day. Please lay out my bathrobe and my intimate apparel and the oils for my skin. I would like to use fresh lemons on my face every day and infused camomille on my hair. Then and only then shall I remain alone with my thoughts. What do you think?” she asked, gazing into the eyes of all three slaves.

From the expressions that emanated from their eyes and their faces, Tatiana knew she had struck the right chord.

“It is a clever compromise. Everyone will be happy with the arrangement. The Princess Hafsa in particular since she has chosen Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira with meticulous care for their loyalty, integrity and the quality of their education. Yes! They will make good companions. I will learn a great deal from them.

Oh! Ah! I’ve never felt water so warm and caressing. It comes up to my shoulders. The water soothes my sore body. It’s pure bliss. The pool is wide enough to allow me to float. Let me see if I can do it. Yes! I am doing it. I am floating. I could stay in this position forever.

She surrendered to the torpor that was slowly traversing her body from her toes to her ankles then slowly towards her knees and then her belly.

Suddenly the vision of Princess Mother Hafsa and her firm admonitions jolted her.

“You will be Suleyman’s best female friend and companion. Let there be no carnal relationship between you. He must not touch you or caress you in a way that you and your father and I would consider lustful. Never use your body to entice my son. Enchant him with your songs and your music. Delight him with the Russian dances of dexterity and grace. I might even join you in some of joyful dances. Dazzle him with your intelligence. Do not be afraid to possess opinions even if they are contrary to his. Disregard your breathtaking beauty. Act as if you are plain or even ugly. Ask questions continuously- from Suleyman, from me and from your tutors. Learn to best him at Shahmat (Chess). It is my duty to warn you. Be ever watchful, for you have enemies in the harem whom you have yet to meet.”

She lost her balance and sank to the bottom. She held her breath and propelled herself out of the water with her legs. She decided standing on the tiles was safer for the moment since she was still adjusting from all the events that had taken place to her father and to herself since this November’s early light.

I don’t like the idea of enemies that I don’t know and have not even as mush as glimpsed. But the situation is what it is. I trust Princess Hafsa. I am in her powerful hands. Lady Maryam is someone I should cultivate. I think the Princess Mother would like that.

She saw tulip shaped soap bars for her body and distilled camomille to wash her hair.

Sing Tatiana of the Golden Laughing Eyes. Sing your fears away Hurrem.

And she sang in a sweet and crystal voice. The arches in the hammam amplified her voice so that Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira, who stood outside her door, listened and smiled with pleasure.

“There once was a girl from a far country,
Who met a Lord of high degree,
They liked each other so tenderly,
Sing Glory,
Sing glory.
Now she lives in a Villa by the sea,
No one knows she’s frightened,
But herself and God.”

“This is going to be a most intriguing evening. That beautiful young girl has Music and Derring-do in her heart. Let us hope she develops her skills of intrigue as well as she manipulates all those instruments,” said Princess Mother Hafsa to Lady Maryam as they both took sips of Mokha coffee out of their tiny Dresden porcelain cups.

She was across the hall from Hurrem, and she was lying langorously in her own hammam as Lady Maryam sat on a golden chair on the tiles of porphyry beside her.

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“Aaah! My Golden Laughing Eyes. You are breathtaking in this virginal white robe. Let me adjust the folds of your Al-Amira,” exclaimed Princess Hafsa.

Al-Amira was Arabic and it described a veil in two transparent pieces, also in the purest white cloth. One piece rested on a matching toque on her head and the other a tubular foulard that enfolded her swan’s neck.

“Thank you, my Princess Mother,” she replied curtsying gracefully and lightly.

“Now you must forget about your physical beauty and concentrate only on your beautiful mind and your character full of light and song,” she instructed Hurrem

“I shall do that Princess Mother,” she replied in her melodious voice

“Walk with me to the theater, krasivaya maya. You memorize thousands of musical notes so it should be easy for you to remember your way back through all the halls and passages. Zelfa, Suheyla and Zahira will be waiting for you in your bedroom suite.”

“I think that I will be able to find my way back easily enough. I might make a few wrong turns but in the end with the help of Allah and my wits I shall prevail in this endeavor.

Tatiana…Ah No! I must get used to calling her Hurrem of Golden Laughing Eyes in front of others, particularly in the presence of my son, will prove to be a formidable presence in his life, she mused.

“Hurrem, I cannot stress enough the importance of this first meeting. First impressions are memorable. It is up to you to set the tone of the meeting as well as the success of the musical fest,” she said.

“I realize that Princess Mother. I shall do my utmost to be my natural charming, musical and spontaneous self. That is all I can do.

“Here we are.” She lifted both of her hands indicating the theater, which stood in regal splendor before them.

It was only then that she saw the unique rings on all her fingers. They fitted her just above the joint after her golden lacquered nails.

“Why they’re all yellow gems! I wonder what they are?”

She would learn much later that the Princess Hafsa was partial to diamonds of every color and shape.

Hurrem took in her breath and remained wordless for a bit, and then leaped as high as she could for joy and hugged the Princess Hafsa.

“It’s beautiful! It’s Beautiful! Thank the Lord. I am so happy.”

I am sorry I had even the slightest misgivings. Something tells me she is The One, decided the Princess Mother.

“Enter Hurrem. This will be your world with Suleyman, for the time being. Who knows what the future will rain down upon us?

She felt her eyes cloud with tears. Don’t cry, you silly girl, you’ll spoil your looks and your mood. Be happy.

Go and survey your world by yourself. I must supervise the birthday celebrations for my son, Prince Suleyman. I have not forgotten that today you turn thirteen. I have a surprise for you too. Give me a hug and kiss me on both cheeks. You don’t mind if I leave you alone with all these musical instruments? Some, like the oudth and the kanoun, the nay and shahnay may be unfamiliar to you. I’m sure my son will be happy to teach you.”

“I will be delighted to have Prince Suleyman as my musical tutor, but these instruments, extravagant though they may appear, are my oldest friends and companions.”

Ahead of her lay the blue Bosporus. What an inspiring place to play. She took a lyre, strummed it a little. It won’t do. It was out of tune. She wondered if the golden strings affected their sonority and clarity. She examined the lyre. The strings appeared taut.

“Ah, someone knew enough not to use pure gold, else the strings would all be bent out of shape.”

Gold was too malleable a metal. She took the lyre, ran her hands slowly and lightly on it strings. She did not hesitate. She began tuning it.

“Now. Instruments, I am speaking to you. I would like to sing an Ode on the occasion of Prince Suleyman’s birthday. There was no time for me to compose something expressly for him on this occasion. I will adapt a joyous Ode I wrote before…our capture and simply insert the name of Suleyman, wherever it’s required.“

She played around with the melody and the Latin lyrics for a bit, “ I think I’ve got it. Yes. Yes, I‘ve got it.”

On orders of Princess Hafsa, the doors of the music room were left wide open, so that her entire household and entourage could take delight at the joy of Hurrem’s music, and the music of her joy. She was facing her instruments and perforce her back was turned. She could not see the only spectator who counted.

“It was wise of the Princess Mother to have thought of that detail. I just want to concentrate on playing and singing.“

She was filled with mixed emotions. My carefree life with no responsibilities is over. Destiny will force me to make many decisions and adjustments.

Some inevitably would bring on unendurable anguish, but she had no idea of any of that yet.

I don’t wish to think about my new life today, any more than I have to. I need a retreat, an escape, albeit a temporary one. Music has always given me pleasure and solace. Today on Prince Suleyman’s birthday and mine. It will also give me a matchless opportunity.

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Prince Suleyman bent down to kiss his mother’s hand.

“A good afternoon to you my Beloved Mater. You urged me to come alone. Here I am. Indeed, Ibrahim will join us for the singing round the cake. I shall summon him whenever I’m ready. This year, I shall be blowing 15 beeswax candles, over one meter high. I think I’m ready. Meanwhile, I am too curious about your cadeaux. Truly I cannot stifle my anticipation for I know you are the most original gift-giver I know.”

His mother placed her forefinger, entirely covered in yellow diamonds from India, over her son’s lips. She took his hand and smoothly guided him towards the music room.

“Now is the time, dear girl, to make your musical entry.” She prayed silently that Hurrem’s intuition would be put to good use .

Then Hurrem’s voice flooded the palace with wonder.

“Oh, the sun is slowly sinking,
Oh the sun is slowly sinking,
And you know not my name… Su- ley -Su–ley-man.
And you know not my name… Su – ley –Su-ley-man.

Now the moon is rising bit-by-bit…Su-ley-man.
Now the moon is rising bit-by-bit…Su-ley – man
And you know not my name…Su-ley-Su-ley-man
And you know not my name Su-ley-Su-leyman.

What we need is you, my Su-ley- Su-ley-man.
To resonate with our music together.
What we need is you, my Su-ley- Su-ley-man.
To resonate with our music together.

She beat and thumped on a small round tambour (drum) as she chanted what she had just sang.

Suleyman stood mesmerized. He dared not enter the hall, lest he break the spell. He took a very slow and careful peek.

”Her beautiful angelic presence overpowers me for the moment.”

He tiptoed on his soft handcrafted leather boots, to where his mother was standing, less than a few feet away.

“She’s a peri (A Muslim angel). She is adorable and I could get used to this,” he whispered into his mother’s ear as he enveloped her in a tight embrace. ”Thank you, dearest Mater.”

“That is my birthday present. She is singing and playing only for you so … enter as quietly as you dare, sit down and listen. Why not join her in song or in the instrumentation.”

“Mater, you have gone beyond my imagination. This is heaven sent.”

But when he turned to face his mother, she had vanished. He was now alone with the beatific creature for at least an hour until it would be time for his small dinner party, which his mother was hosting.

He entered the hall, walking on eggshells. The Peri was chanting Gregorian vespers. Once in a while he caught the name Su-ley-man.

Is she praying for me? I am overwhelmed.

He reclined on the softest looking cushions, afraid to breathe and hoping not to cough involuntarily. She began to sing a Russian song on the zithara,

At that point, he forgot himself. He was transported into the music.

I know that song! My mother sang it to me when I was a child, I can still remember the words.

He could no longer contain his excitement. He bounded from the cushions and ran to join her in a duet of “The Birch Trees.” His fine baritone voice singing as he walked swiftly towards the immense dais to join the divine shade.

If only I had learnt to play the zithara, he thought with regret. He realized with a start that she was still singing ”The Birch Trees”. At his questioning look, she explained during a musical pause, ”My lyrics.”

He waited for the next pause, ”May I have them?”

She nodded but continued singing and playing. He hummed, La La La along with her, and swayed gently to the rhythm.

This is the first time I share a wonderful experience like music with anyone, much less a breathtaking girl. I have that impression. I have not had the time to observe her closely. Her singing and playing have overcome me.

I think this must be Prince Suleyman, but I’m not sure. His bearing is regal, like one born to wear a crown, or many crowns. I am too involved with the music to really have a good look.

When the song ended, Suleyman and Hurrem remained in silence. For both, it was the famous “Pausa” in a musical composition. The ethereal flow between them felt natural and right. Her oval face was almost lost in a sea of long, golden red locks. Her eyes blazed, as if she was drunk. Indeed she was, from the music!

“Oh! Please forgive me, I am usually not so distracted, that I forget my good upbringing. Your music has so affected me. What is your name, my musical sorceress?”

He was addressing her in Russian. She decided to reply in French. ”I used to be Tatiana, but now I’m called Hurrem.”

“Hurrem, may I compliment you on your golden laughing eyes? It is a pleasure and a rare treat to come upon a creature such as you. I am Suleyman,” he stated simply.

“I wish you a most festive and happy Natal day,” she replied and whispered so low he could barely make out the words ”Today, is my 13th birthday.”

“Well, now we are sharing birthdays as well as music,” he found it difficult to suppress a series of deep chuckles. His mother was smarter than his father. That was a fact. Oh, he was a warrior and often led his armies to victory, but she read human beings as adroitly as she did books. This was the principal reason why his mother was his father’s favorite concubine. Indeed, she was the only woman who lived, strictly speaking, outside the boundaries of the harem. The Sultan wanted to avoid gossip of the worst kind … that in deepest secret - he sought the counsel of a woman and a concubine, in matters of state!

“Princess Hafsa, your mother, has ensured that as much as possible my turning 13 is also to be a memorable occasion.“

“So, you’re not too sad or homesick?”

She thought about that for a while, before responding. “There is mostly sweetness, and a dollop of sadness. My father is in Istanbul, which gives me strength. Soon, I will be immersed in so many studies and activities, that I won’t have time to miss him too much.”

He liked her manner and choice of words. A bright girl. Strong willed. Brave. She began tuning a silver lyre.

“I have an idea,” he said. ”Why don’t you compose something here and now in honor of my birthday, I shall do the same to honor your day.”

“It’s a splendid idea,” she replied, the dazzle in her eyes was unmistakable. She laughed heartily. “If we are still friends next year and the year after next, and so on … we can continue this tradition ad infinitum.”

“It is a promise! You have the word of Suleyman: he exclaimed with delight.

She picked up a tambourine, tapped it, shook it in syncopated rhythm and burst into a song in French, “ Suleyman, est ma Bel ami.”

“I have never wished for a long lasting friendship with any boy or man, other than with my tutors and spiritual Advisors. Except for Ibrahim and Karash. Girls and women let alone a young girl were something that never came to my mind. I would like to share an everlasting friendship with the golden laughing Hurrem. She of the many talents. God please deign to grant me this,” he prayed silently, as he abandoned himself to her music. Soon it would be his turn to compose a merry Ode in her honor.

This is my best birthday yet, reflected Prince Suleyman.