Sofia
for I knew that would displease the master. Besides, I was somewhat afraid, for the crowds seemed loud and rough. But soon I was aware that they were thinning and those people whom I heard seemed ever more sober and respectful, as if it were some great shrine we were approaching. Now I dared to pull back the curtain just a bit and to have a look around me.“I saw that we were passing through a great and wonderful garden. Tall cypress tress stood as sentinels in perfect straight lines along the numerous and delightful pathways. Beneath each tree, in rows as regimented as if they had been planted there, a gardener in a red headdress was at work.
“And, oh, what exotics grew beneath their hands! The lawn was as plush and uniform as a rug, as if every blade were hand-knotted into place. And as if deep borders on every side were set in out beds of flowers. Is it not still Lent? Have we not still a week or two till Easter? And yet I saw them: rank upon rank of brilliant pink, red, and white blooms like an infinite army mustered for review. The flowers resembled the Turkish army, I vow, for they were just like so many turbaned soldiers standing up oh so straight! I have never seen anything of the kind before.”
Tülbend, those flowers must have been, I thought. That is a Turkish word for “turban,” which Europeans mispronounce as “tulip.” Mispronunciation does not keep occidentals from coveting these wonders for their own gardens. And, though the Turks guarded the secret of the flowers’ cultivation care-full v, I had heard a rumor that some Dutchman had recently contrived to smuggle the mysterious means of their propagation to his homeland.
Still, I did not hope to see them soon in Venice, never in such profusion as Sofia now described. Indeed, I did not know any place in all the parks of Constantinople where they were so abundant nor so well-tended. Surely she was exaggerating, for only the Sultan could afford such luxury.
The Sultan..., I repeated to myself. Was it possible that Madonna Baffo had actually been taken within the Grand Serai? God forbid! I listened on.
“Presently we came to a great gate at which point the bearers of my sedan were obliged to halt. Even my master was allowed no further and, wrapping me closely in veils as I descended, he entrusted me to the care of a large white man who had come with us from the shop. This man wore a heavy green robe trimmed with rabbit fur and on his head was a tall white hat shaped like a cone of sugar.”
I recognized this description as that of the eunuch Husayn had called my attention to earlier that day. “From the palace,” my friend had said. So it was true. And it was more than just the palace, the Sublime Porte where any beggar might go to seek justice. It was into the harem itself that she had gone, the very heart of the heart, where no man had ever set foot save only the Sultan himself. I listened on.
“This man led me through the door. Then—oh! how can I explain to you how I felt? I felt as if I’d been swallowed by a great, ravenous beast, a beast whose insides were cool marble. I grew afraid. Yet, do not look like that, Veniero. It was a fear that sent a shivering thrill down my spine. What a wondrous beast! I thought. What a great, powerful, wondrous beast that turns and the earth shakes, who winks an eye and the world is in darkness or in light. Oh, that I could become part of this beast, I thought, even if it meant being swallowed whole and never seeing the light of day again.
“We walked down the long, marble corridors of the beast’s insides. They were deserted, save for several black men in turbans and fur-trimmed robes something like my guide’s. They stood guard at the various portals we passed through as we were swallowed deeper and deeper inside. Then, just when I thought we must have reached a dead end, a door opened and I found myself dazzled by light and sound.
“The light was reflected innumerable times by an absolute riot of mirrors, giltwork, jewels, satin, and polished faience tile painted and carved in all the colors and detail of a garden in bloom. These surfaces had the same effect on sound. There were caged birds in the room and a company of female musicians, but mostly it was the chatter and laughter of a crowd of women—oh, twenty at least—the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
“All different kinds of women: black and white and brown and yellow, some with blue eyes, some with eyes like pitch. Red hair, brown hair, black hair like ravens. They were all dressed in unspeakable elegance, so weighted with jewels and silks and cloth-of-gold and velvet that I can’t imagine how they managed to walk about. And yet their discourse was animated and happy as they sat on soft cushions and rugs and partook of pastries, sweets, and rose water.
“My guide directed me to bow and I did as he told me, falling to the ground as low as any tortoise. I tell you, it was no small feat, all swathed in veils as I was. But I might have bowed anyway, without being told, solely at the opulence I saw, pulsating there at the Beast’s heart. It quite overwhelmed me.
“Well, soon enough I saw a little yellow calfskin slipper there before my nose and one of the women was helping me to my feet. Then she reached for my veils and, with a grand flourish, removed them. The room full of women, which had fallen silent on my entrance, gasped. Then they began to chatter all the more excitedly. Some of them, I could tell by the sudden pallor of their faces, were quite jealous.