CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Davud stood on the prow of the Imperial kayik, his attention drawn to the foreshore of the Marmora as it sped by. Behind him, in the heavily curtained kiosk, his two loves lay in each other’s arms, consoling the loss of their child. Far behind the stern, the boom of celebratory cannon reverberated as Istanbul commemorated the Scarlet Mantle’s victory at the Mohacs. But no joy was felt on the kayik as it skimmed across the sea on the first leg to Edirne and the surviving children. An abrupt, blustering wind made the kiosk’s curtains flap. Still, Davud could not see into the lantern-lit gloom that pervaded its interior.
He turned quickly away when Suleyman emerged into the daylight. The Sultan shielded his eyes from the glare, making his way to the front of the kayik to
