Roger threw out his hands. 'Madame, I protest. I need no reward. It has been a joy to be of service to you.'
'I am glad; but shall persist with my idea. From what Zanthe told me, you are not only a brave but very virile and amorous man. And one, too, who would not demean himself to lie with any but a beautiful and well-born girl—such, for example, as my little Fatima.'
Roger stared at her nonplussed, as she continued. 'It must have become obvious to you that she regards you as a demigod. And she is no virgin, as for a year she was a concubine to one of the young Princes who died not long ago. You have but to say the word and, given my permission, she will come running to sleep with you tonight.'
'Madame, I... I...' Roger stammered.
Aimee threw back her head, and laughed. 'Cher Chevalier. Why be so bashful? Men of your kind do not frequent brothels, so must be starved of women when in the East. And Fatima passed her tests in the Seraglio "School of Love", so I guarantee you there is nothing she will not do to please you. But there is one condition. All must take place in complete darkness, in order to conform with Turkish observances.'
With a puzzled frown, Roger asked, 'Pray tell me, Madame, what is the reason for such a strange custom?'
'You would naturally wish to kiss your bed-fellow,' Aimee' replied. 'Therefore, she must dispense with her veil. Of course, when a couple are married, no such problem arises. But Turkish females are very different from Europeans. As I have learned from many Turkish ladies of my acquaintance when, as sometimes happens, they are left for a while alone with an attractive friend of their husband's; they will permit many liberties, but should the man lift their veil, they would take it as a deadly insult. That is why, should you wish me to send Fatima to you, I require your word of honour that you will have the shutters of the windows of your room closed, the curtains drawn, and in no circumstances endeavour to look upon her unveiled face.'
Roger was in a quandary. Face to face with Aimee as he was, Fatima meant nothing to him. Yet she was a pretty girl, with a lovely figure, and it was a considerable time since he had slept with a woman. It then occurred to him that, in any case, it would be churlish to refuse this obviously kindly-intended offer; so he bowed and said:
'Madame, I am deeply grateful to you for your thought for me as a man who for a considerable time past has not enjoyed nature's blessings. If Fatima is willing, I shall be delighted to receive her—and I feel confident I can promise to give her an enjoyable night.'
Aimee smiled. 'I am sure you will, man cher Chevalier. I will not bid you good-bye now, but in the morning before I am taken away to my new prison.'
Having kissed her hand, Roger withdrew; still wondering at the breadth of this extraordinary woman's mind—that in the midst of her own troubles she should have thought about providing pleasure for a friend who had stood by her when she was in danger. Then he recalled the dream in which his beloved Georgina had appeared to him. This must be the invitation that she had urged him to accept. And he had nearly refused it, because the radiance of Aimee had made him so indifferent to Fatima's attractions. With a smile he thought, 'I've never yet questioned Georgina's advice. And, after all, Fatima is a graduate of that famous "School of Love". Maybe she can teach me something, though I doubt it. Anyhow, a night with a girl will make me feel a real man again.'
Going to his room he slowly undressed, closed the shutters, drew the curtains, then got into bed. For a while he laboured a little to read two of the stories in a Turkish edition of the Thousand and One Nights. Rolling up the scroll, he blew out the bedside lamp.
The room was now in Stygian blackness. He could not see his hand before his face. Patiently he lay there for what seemed a very long time. At last he heard the door open, but not even a ray of light came in, as the lamps in the corridor had been put out.
The door closed. His heart began to hammer with anticipation. He caught the swish of a silk garment as it slid from his visitor's shoulders to the floor. Next moment she had pulled back the bed-clothes, and wriggled in beside him.
He drew her to him, and ran his hand lightly over her hair. It was not crinkly as he "remembered, but very fine and silky. Leaning over, he kissed her on the mouth. It was not full-lipped, but very soft, and she moved it gently, touching his tongue with hers. As their kiss ended, she gave a low laugh and said:
'I've cheated you, haven't I? You've got an old woman who has fallen in love with a wonderful man.'
He had known it a moment before. It was not Fatima that he held naked in his arms, but the Veiled Crown of Turkey, who was yet to change the destiny of a great nation: the remarkable woman whom the Grand Turk had chosen to honour above all others in his vast Empire—Naksh the Beautiful.
The Road to Isfahan
On June 7th General Gardane's mission, and Roger with it, left Constantinople. The intelligence sources serving the French Embassy were good. Within a few days of the coup d'etat, the General had learned that the new Sultan, Mustapha IV, and his mother, as a natural corollary of their opposition to Aimee who led the pro-French party, had long been in secret communication with the British and the Russians. Therefore, there was now not the least chance of Gardane's mission succeeding in Turkey.
He had, therefore, decided to take his whole party on as soon as possible to Persia. By the land route, its capital, Isfahan, was some fifteen hundred miles from Constantinople; but a good part of the journey could be done by sea, and in a vessel there was no necessity for horses to be rested while their tired riders slept in a camp or inn. Ships proceeded on their way day and night So, although the distance to Antioch by sea was a thousand miles, and they would then still have to travel another thousand miles overland, Gardane felt that, during the summer weather, unless the winds proved unusually contrary for that season, they would save several days and themselves much exertion if they went as far as they could by ship.
For the purpose he chartered a brigantine with a hold large enough to stable their horses, and confined—but by the standard of the times, adequate—quarters for the personnel.
When in mid-morning, with the sun blazing down out of a brassy blue sky, they set sail and rounded Seraglio Point into the Sea of Marmora, Roger, leaning over the stern rail, looked back at the terraced gardens and innumerable kiosks that made up the Topkapi Palace.
For the past week he had thought of little else than Aimee. He was reassured that, apart from some quite unforeseeable happening, no harm would befall her. She had been relieved of her many duties and responsibilities, her beloved son and her dear friend, the deposed Sultan Selim, were with her and as safe from danger as she was. She would have their company, her books, embroidery and garden; but it seemed tragic that such a woman should be condemned to live the life of a nun.
Among the first words she had said to him on that night they had slept together were, 'I'm an old woman.' By Eastern standards, at forty-three, she was; but in fact she was old neither in spirit nor body. She was that rarest of beings, a beautiful European who had been taught by Oriental experts the ways in which to arouse a man's virility again and again, and to give herself each time with delirious enjoyment. Since her husband's death, conditions in the harem had made it impossible for her to take a lover, even if she had desired one of the few men who were occasionally permitted to visit her in her apartments. Now, she was fated to resume that life of chastity for good, and to remain a prisoner until she died.
That, at least, was what Roger feared would be her fate, although her unshakeable belief that her son, Prince Mahmoud, would one day rule gloriously did give a ray of hope that unforeseeable circumstances might yet restore her to the position of Sultan Valide.