The French Ambassador was a short, fat man that Haseki had spent many an evening with in deep conversation. Though his butchering of her language tortured her, she trusted him and his views explicitly. Now he sat nervously on the divan in the audience chamber, fumbling with a scroll and pretending to be interested in the platters of food and the dwarfs who somersaulted in front of him. He rose, with full expression of his relief when Haseki, veiled, entered the chamber. She let him kiss her sleeve before she sat on the divan across from him.
“Madam Roxelana,” he managed at last in uncertain phrasing. “Please forgive my unscheduled intrusion.”
Haseki made a slight movement of her hand, sending the dwarfs and eunuchs from the room. She turned to the Ambassador and the scroll that he twiste
