The Black Tulip

The Hall of the Sultan

Guards escort the entire harem into the Hunkar Sofasi. This is Leyla’s first time in this part of the palace. The room is more beautiful than any other she has seen within Topkapı’s walls: a stained glass dome scatters colored light across the floor, and windows facing the Golden Horn open onto a grand marble terrace. Leyla is startled to realize she has never known where Topkapı stood, despite living within its walls. She was brought from Madam Siranush’s house through the Gate of Felicity without glimpsing the city, and the harbor visible from the harem’s gardens is all of İstanbul she has known. Green hills framed by cypresses and linden trees roll beyond the terrace, and the city looks as though it were carved from jasper, like a magic kingdom. Other girls seem just as awed, though Leyla also longs to explore further, chafing at how separate the harem keeps her from the world.

Her attention turns to the man seated at the center of the room, and Leyla realizes it is her first time laying eyes on the padishah. He sits on a golden throne, dressed in a kaftan of green silk embroidered with golden tulips. His turban holds an aigrette set with an enormous tear-shaped emerald surrounded by rubies and diamonds, and beneath his diamond-studded sash hangs a silver dagger, its sheath inlaid with more emeralds and rubies. Behind him stands his mother, the valide sultana, solemn and dignified. Leyla recognizes faces from the harem and royalty from the halvet. The padishah’s wives sit with their daughters on a separate dais, and though he has twenty-four children, Master Hyacinth calls out only a handful of the princesses’ names, including Fatma. Leyla searches for Princess Fatma, hoping to catch sight of Lena, but cannot find either of them.

The girls salute and form lines around the padishah according to rank, and one by one, each approaches the throne to kiss the skirt of his kaftan. He nods and meets every girl’s eyes as she comes forward. Leyla’s nerves ease as she watches the others go ahead of her, and as the padishah pauses to ask a girl her name or greets an old nurse or odalisque by asking after her health, Leyla decides he is a gentle, kindly man. Once everyone has greeted him, he looks around the room. “Nothing gives me more pleasure than to have all my harem, all my ladies, in the same room,” he tells them. “Welcome. I want you all to enjoy yourselves fully.”

The padishah then leads them onto the marble terrace, pointing across the confluence of the two waters to an unfinished structure on the opposite shore. He announces it will soon be a new palace, more poetic than Topkapı and more splendid than anything built by their eastern ancestors, even more opulent than the French king’s Versailles. Belkıs has said the padishah is fascinated with the French kings and the drawings of their palaces sent from France. He continues that this palace will have a lovelier setting than any other: colored tiles trimmed with gold, crafted by the finest artisans from all over the world. He will call it Sadabad, the palace of happiness, destined to become the shining star along the Golden Horn, where someday the girls, too, will hear the music of heaven on earth. It will be inaugurated in honor of Princess Fatma’s wedding to the Grand Vizier İbrahim Pasha and the manhood ceremonies of two of his sons, timed to coincide with that year’s Tulip Festival.

Every face turns toward Princess Fatma, and Leyla finally spots her and Lena, among the royal family. Fatma sits on a special throne, eyes cast down, holding Lena like a baby, but Lena squirms restlessly, seeming ready to climb free at any moment. Suddenly Lena’s eyes meet Leyla’s. Leyla shakes her head, trying to warn her still, but Lena jumps down from the princess’s lap and runs straight to Leyla, grabbing her legs and reaching up to be lifted. Every eye in the hall lands on Leyla, and she has no idea what to do.

One of the princess’s attendants swoops in and carries Lena back, and Lena looks over her shoulder at Leyla and begins to cry. “What you have done puts me to shame, Semiramis,” the princess scolds. “You should never call attention to yourself around our padishah.” She whispers to her attendant, who removes the child from the room. Semiramis, Leyla realizes, is the name they have given Lena now, just as she herself became Leyla instead of Laleena.

Master Hyacinth quickly signals the musicians, and dancers whirl out, clacking wooden spoons to draw attention from the disruption. The music is wonderful, but Leyla cannot stop thinking about Lena, worrying that trouble will follow for them both. Food is served, but she has no appetite. Once again, Lena has been snatched away from her.

When the feast and entertainment end, the padishah rises, and the girls salute him as he passes. On his way out, he pauses to drop his handkerchief at Belkıs’s feet before disappearing through the door to the Golden Road, the corridor connecting his private selamlık to the harem. The whole room falls silent. Every girl there knows exactly what the dropping of the handkerchief means.