Roxelana & Suleyman

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Suleyman lay amongst the comfort of the cushions on his divan, his nakedness curled lovingly around Haseki as she slept within the arch of his body. He listened to the softness of her breathing, his thoughts caressing the curve of her arm and breast. He brushed her n****e with his fingers and traced a line down her torso to tenderly nudge the exposed belly button. With a gentle smile he fondled the emerald that hung there and then, leaning forward, kissed her shoulder before rolling from the divan.

He walked, n***d, from the room out into his private courtyard to ponder the tulips and the splashing of the fountains. He sat down on the pavement, his back to the fountainhead, luxuriating in the morning sun. Movement on the upper balcony distracted him. The Valide Sultana peered over the balustrade before stepping down the wooden stair to join him. Suleyman paid her no mind, continuing to bask in the sunshine which dappled through the foliage of the beeches that grew within the court.

“Good morning, Mother,” he said, noting how she situated herself close beside him on the fountain’s edge.

“Have you forgiven me yet, Suleyman?”

He reached for her hand and pressed his lips to its back. “We know each other only too well.”

Hafsa placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Yes, that is so.”

Though he did not turn to face her, Suleyman knew that her gaze caressed the full length of his body, which he had no mind or concern to cover from her sight. Instead he continued to lounge, his eyes closed against the glare, the browning skin glistening in the early morning sunshine.

“You certainly have more to offer in your maturity than your father ever did. Evidently you take after my father more than your own.”

“I am sure that his life would have been far superior to mine. As the Chieftain of a Tartar clan he had the freedom of the wind at his back and a fine steed between his legs to gallop wherever he would across the vast Crimean plains.”

“Yes, he had his freedom. But you, my son, may give that freedom to the peoples of Europe and Asia.”

Suleyman nuzzled his cheek into Hafsa’s leg, his eyelids still pressed shut. As she ran her hand across his shoulder and hummed a favored tune, he dreamed of a long-ago time when nothing mattered but his mother’s love.

“I received word from Ibrahim yesterday,” he muttered at last.

Hafsa raised her eyebrows. “How does he fair against the pirates, and those that call themselves the Knights of St John?”

“The sea-borne assault is progressing well with the entire Isle of Rhodes under siege by our superior navy. The pirates tried to flee, but their galleons were no match for ours—all were either destroyed in battle or taken for our own effort.”

“Then Ibrahim is proving worthy of your trust?”

“He has never had to prove his loyalty to me, Mother. He is as fine as myself in times of war, and peace. He will do much to further the power of the Scarlet Mantle.”

Suleyman pulled himself up from the marble pavement to sit beside the Valide Sultana on the fountainhead. She placed her hand upon his thigh, caressing the puckered scar left by the Edirne boar.

“Your wound has healed well.”

“Yes,” he returned, clasping her hand to stop it stroking his inner thigh.

“You do not desire my... motherly... affection, Suleyman?”

Suleyman closed his eyes once more and released his grip on her hand. She ran her fingertips around the wound and across the wisps of soft hair that crept up the inside of his leg. When the jewels of her many rings caressed the skin near his scrotum, he once more seized her hand and pushed it away.

“No, Mother! There was a time when I longed for nothing more than your caress, but that time is gone. Your advances have confused me and my own true desires since I was a boy.”

“Oh, you would rather the fist of that Greek brute, or the all-consuming infatuation of the woman who right now sleeps on your divan?” she retorted in anger.

Suleyman held his own anger at bay and instead turned to gently kiss Hafsa on the lips.

“Mother, I will always love you, but as you have also stated, that love can only be consummated through Haseki Hurrem—is that not the reason you gave her to me?”

Hafsa sighed. “Yes, Suleyman. But her power has spread itself further than the cushions of your divan—that, I never intended.”

“She does indeed wield a power that is to be reckoned with, but I suspect she has learnt her cunning from you.”

Hafsa smiled in reflection. “Yes, we have indeed spent many an afternoon and evening in deep conversation.”

“Ha, then as I suspected, my caress of her soft skin and savoring of her sweet feminine delicacies has indeed consummated our love.”

The light in Hafsa’s eyes softened and she ruffled her son’s black locks. She watched in subdued happiness as he stood and walked away from her back to his suite and the woman sleeping on his divan. With an unrefined pleasure she studied the line of his back and the muscled curve of his buttocks—savoring what she had created.

“Love him well, my sweet Haseki. Love him for both of us as much as I know you are able.”