CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
Suleyman and Davud stretched out in the stern of the small sailing boat. Davud held firmly to the tiller, skimming the vessel across the rippling waters of the Bosphorus. They sped past the Tower of the Maiden and swung between two large war-ships to slip into the Golden Horn. The Sultan marveled at the beauty of the city in the waning light, pointing out the lanterns that were still strung between the minarets of Aya Sofya in celebration of the recent circumcisions.
“I am so proud of my sons.” Suleyman said over the lapping of the water and flapping of the canvas. He ducked as the sail swung above him to the opposite side of the vessel.
Davud mused, “It must be fortifying to know that your lineage will continue into a prosperous future.”
Suleyman considered his han
