Roxelana & Suleyman

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Davud spent days confined within a cell in utter dark and silence; alone and n***d. Before being placed in there he had been groomed by the white eunuchs in the hamam of the Itchoglans. Rigorously scrubbed and cleaned in the heat of the Turkish bath, his entire body had been smeared with mud from the eastern shores of the Black Sea, and now was completely hairless. His head had also been shaved, save for his eyebrows and two long locks which hung from his temples.

In the dark he ran his hands over the unusual smoothness of his body—the skin velvet soft, the curve and dip of muscle foreign without the layer of hair. He touched the gash left by the Advocate’s blade beneath his scrotum. It stung, but was healing well. Though he was completely blind in this space, he became aware of every inch of his flesh, his breathing, his heart beat, and his thoughts. His mind swam. Many of his thoughts were from a life long ago, though they soon drowned in the murky depths of unconsciousness and forgotten nightmares. Images of a new life rippled above him and he yearned for the rays of refracting light to embrace him completely.

At the end of the third day the Aga of the White Eunuchs came to his cell and led him again to the hamam. Once more, the white eunuchs slaved over him. They massaged and scrubbed his flesh until it was red raw—until it bled. Lying on the podium in the center of the room, the surrounding marble flooring was swathed in the sweat and dirt that continued to be exuded, scrubbed and washed from him. He was again covered in the mud—cold and sticky against his flesh, even in the heat of the hamam. The eunuchs took great handfuls of it from a bowl and patted it over his chest, abdomen, groin and legs. And as it was scraped away, he saw that so too was the body hair that had dared try to resurrect itself. The eunuchs rolled and kneaded him like a piece of dough until he was exhausted and of such cleanliness that his skin squeaked to the touch.

Then he slept—a sleep much deeper than he had long experienced.

It was mid-morning when a hand brusquely pushed at his shoulder to wake him from slumber. Davud rolled; his vision bleary and unsure. An Itchoglan signed with his hands.

“Huh?” murmured Davud, not knowing the significance of the hand movements.

The Itchoglan leant close to Davud’s ear and whispered, “Come, you are to be presented by the Aga to the Sultan and registered in the log.”

Davud chewed vigorously on a stick of bread as the other helped him into his vest and pants. He had no slippers so would be presented barefooted. Despite the bread, Davud’s stomach growled with hunger as he was escorted to the audience chamber. He entered the vast room behind the Aga of the White Eunuchs. A leash had been placed around his neck and the old eunuch pulled him along into the opulence of the pearl and amethyst-encrusted room.

The Sultan sat upon a platform. Beside him stood Ibrahim and the Grand Vizier, both of whom Davud knew by sight and reputation.

As the Aga approached the center of the room he pulled on Davud’s leash and, placing his hand on the shaved head, pushed him down until he lay flat upon the floor.

Those on the podium sat or stood without sign of emotion.

“My lord, Shadow of God on Earth. I am presenting to you Davud of Galicia.”

Suleyman nodded and motioned to the Grand Vizier who wrote the name and place of origin in a large book.

As Davud studied the vein of color twisting through the marble in front of his eyes, the Grand Vizier stated, “Davud of Galicia, you are granted a pension of four aspars a day and are hereby admitted into the first Oda of the Itchoglans.”

The Aga pulled on the leash and Davud rose to his feet.

As he held his head low, careful to gaze upon nothing but the marble floor beneath his bare feet, Davud did not see as both Ibrahim and Suleyman scrutinized him; did not see as they turned to each other and nodded in contemplative appreciation.

Ibrahim addressed the Aga of the White Eunuchs, “Aga, you have chosen well. This novice shall savor a solid position in the Sultan’s privy chamber once he has completed the four Odas of training.” Ibrahim placed his hand on Suleyman’s shoulder. The Sultan caressed the growing stubble on his chin—thoughtfully studying the stature and build of the young man before him.