That should be Radu’s place at Mehmed’s side.Īs though sensing Radu’s poisonous envy, Halil Vizier looked at him.
Things would be easier, or at least they would be more pleasant. He hated even more that it had been his own plan to put Halil in a place of trust and power to keep a closer eye on him. Radu hated thinking of his old enemy Halil Pasha as Halil Vizier. Along with his usual attendants, he was joined by Ishak Pasha, one of his most powerful spahi Kumal Pasha, Radu’s brother-in-law and, as always, like a bitter taste that could not be swallowed, Halil Vizier. Mehmed stood apart, but was free with his smiles and sweeping promises of future parties at his palace. To celebrate this investment in the capital of the Ottoman Empire, Mehmed had invited everyone who mattered.Īmbassadors from various European countries mingled freely with the Ottoman elite. It would rival anything his father had ever built-anything anyone had ever built. They were the first new construction anticipating Mehmed’s grand palace complex. Three connected buildings, with domed roofs echoing those of mosques, had been added in the past few months. “Truly glorious,” Halil Vizier said to Mehmed, his hands on his hips as he looked up at the new bathhouse complex. But Mehmed did not look in his direction, immune to the connection Radu could not escape. But lately Radu felt small when Mehmed looked at him.
The two young men, both having finally finished growing, were the same tall, lean height. Radu tried to remember Mehmed’s full lips parting in a smile, his eyebrows rising in mirth rather than mockery.
A jeweled chain fastened a cloak around his broad shoulders. Mehmed wore his now-constant deep-purple robes and a swirling golden turban. Radu was drawn to him like a leaf spun on the river current. But still he looked.Īnd there-next to the bathhouse. He knew it was useless, knew that it would not make him feel better. Radu wandered between buildings painted like geometric gardens, pulled along as surely as the course of the river. The fountains tinkled in cheery companionship with the surrounding river. The carved stones of the walls promised luxury and peace. The harem complex he built on the island had been out of use since his death, but it had not faded in glory. Whatever else he had been, Murad-Mehmed’s dead father and Radu’s onetime benefactor-had not been one to skimp on luxury. On either side of the island, the Tunca River flowed leisurely by. Though the main meal would come later, blue-clad servants floated through the crowds with food-laden trays shaped like lily pads. Groups of musicians were scattered across the island they could be glimpsed among the hardy green that had survived the winter months. Music drifted like perfume on the air, enough to sweeten but not overwhelm. At least, Radu was fairly certain that whatever hell there was would certainly resemble this party.
0 kommentar(er)
