Her Choice
Yusuf returned to Trabzon in triumph, carrying countless spoils of war, and was greeted by tremendous cheers.
How strong the sanjak’s forces were was a matter tied directly to survival, beyond mere pride. A land with a weak army could become the target of plunder at any time.
After returning to Trabzon, Yusuf received reports on what had happened during his absence, and the most noteworthy matter was the difference in the princes’ gains and losses.
‘Mahmud’s death must have been Selim’s doing after all.’
Since Mahmud and most of his soldiers had died, Selim was the only one who could properly report what had happened.
Selim reported that it had been a successful night raid, but that they had suffered heavy losses because of Mahmud’s shortcomings and the abilities of the Kızılbaş.
Everyone knew the circumstances were suspicious, but there was no one left to speak in Mahmud’s defense.
‘In the end, Selim is the only one who achieved a military victory.’
After all, both sides had been forced to retreat when Bozkurt Bey, the ruler of Dulkadir, suffered a crushing defeat.
Ahmed and Korkut had preserved their forces, but had amounted to little more than spectators, while Selim had suffered losses but achieved military distinction.
In the long run, it remained to be seen which side would benefit more.
‘It will probably be Selim. His losses can be replenished through the Crimean Khanate, after all.’
What was interesting in all this was that Yusuf’s great victory had unexpectedly been reevaluated.
In truth, Yusuf’s overwhelming victory had tended to be underrated. Because it had been such a tremendous triumph, people had grown suspicious of the Kızılbaş’s abilities themselves.
However, when the fact that they had inflicted heavy damage on the sipahis despite being caught in an unguarded night raid was added to the nearly annihilating losses suffered by Bozkurt, the Kızılbaş’s abilities were acknowledged.
‘I’m the one who gained the most.’
It had become a strange situation in which Yusuf, who had not even fought in Dulkadir, received the highest evaluation.
On top of that, he had successfully inflicted damage on the Safavids, making Yusuf the person who had benefited the most.
He had even managed to seize the lead by catching up to Ahmed, who had been racing far ahead.
“My brothers won’t remain idle after this.”
“That is correct. Prince Korkut has already made his move.”
Troops were gathering in accordance with the sultan’s mobilization order, and the princes’ war had effectively come to an end.
Even if war broke out with the Safavids, it would be difficult to distinguish oneself once such a large army was on the move.
In the end, it meant that the situation in which Yusuf had surged into the lead and Selim had begun to stand out would continue for some time.
The two who had created the unprecedented event of an alliance between princes had every reason to grow anxious.
“I hear he petitioned the Padishah to let him return to Saruhan, where the late Mahmud had been stationed.”
“His justification?”
“He says it is to quickly quell the turmoil in Saruhan, where sanjakbeys have died one after another.”
It was bound to be chaotic, since two princes had died without properly lasting even a year.
Korkut had killed Alemshah, and Selim had killed Mahmud, who succeeded him.
It was a clear indication of how fiercely the other princes kept watch over cities close to the capital.
Korkut, who had been Saruhan’s master for a long time, could certainly control it well.
“There’s no way the Padishah will grant that request. Korkut hasn’t done anything to win his favor, either.”
“As you predicted, he will refuse.”
If the Padishah were willing to grant such a request, he would never have thrown Korkut, who possessed a naval force, into the landlocked Chorum in the first place.
Then would Korkut quietly accept the refusal?
“He might seize Saruhan by force.”
“Surely he wouldn’t go that far?”
It could easily be construed as rebellion, but the possibility was more than sufficient.
“Have you forgotten what happened in Dulkadir? My brothers no longer properly obey the Padishah’s orders.”
That had been the case in the original history as well.
Selim, who had gone to the Crimean Khanate, had led an army and occupied land on the Balkan Peninsula, while Korkut, who had fled to Egypt, had pressured the sultan and seized Saruhan once more.
Once his greatest rival, Selim, became a traitor, Ahmed had defied his father’s orders and declared himself the sultan of Anatolia.
“If Korkut ignores the Padishah’s command and attempts to seize Saruhan, everything will begin from that moment.”
The princes’ life-and-death struggle for the throne.
Yusuf held up three fingers to Shemsi.
“Three years at most, if we look ahead. A full-scale succession war will break out within that time.”
At Yusuf’s words, whose judgment had never once been wrong until now, Shemsi nodded with a grave expression.
Three years was by no means a long period of time.
∗ ∗ ∗
One day, as Yusuf was accelerating the production of matchlock firearms and gunpowder for the future, Hatis went into labor.
Even when Hatis’s delivery drew near, Yusuf was not particularly flustered.
He had already experienced everything when Mehmet was born.
However, when he held the newborn child in his arms, Yusuf could not help but be flustered for the first time in a long while.
“Is this truly a newborn child? He seems twice as large as Mehmet.”
Fatima nodded at Yusuf’s question.
“He weighs twice as much, they say. Wasn’t Hatis’s belly larger than it was with Ayşe?”
By the time eight months of the pregnancy had passed, she had been nearly full-term.
In fact, many people had expected twins after seeing Hatis’s belly, but no one had imagined that such a large and healthy baby would be born.
Yusuf looked down at the child he had named Murat.
‘Is it because of his traits and luck? The children being born aren’t ordinary.’
Mehmet, who had been recognized as a genius by many people, including the qadi, was extraordinary enough, but even the newborn Murat was no ordinary child.
One look at him naturally brought the words “future general” to mind.
As a father, Yusuf looked forward to seeing how his two sons would grow, and there was only one way he could watch over their development.
‘I’ll have to become sultan.’
If he failed, it would be difficult for either child to survive.
Yusuf handed the child to Nene, reaffirmed his resolve, and turned away.
—Prince, the envoy has arrived in Bayburt.
It was time to work as a prince, not as a father.
∗ ∗ ∗
Khodabandeh, who had arrived at Trabzon Castle as part of the embassy, hardened his expression.
They said one could learn about the master of a city by looking at the city itself.
‘He’s not simply someone who excels at war.’
The walls, reinforced several times over, were tall and thick. The roads were paved with solid stone, and it was difficult to find filthy refuse on the ground.
There were no shadows on the faces of the people moving about with tired expressions, and the children ran fearlessly through the streets.
It was easy to see how well the city was governed.
The embassy from the enemy Safavids was subjected to a thorough inspection before it was allowed to meet Yusuf.
“You must have had a difficult journey here. My name is Yusuf.”
“It is an honor to meet you. My name is Khodabandeh Khalifa.”
Yusuf stroked his chin.
He did not remember the man, but anyone sent by the Safavids was unlikely to be insignificant.
“I heard there was cause for celebration. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Khodabandeh had inwardly sighed, hoping that the birth of a son was a tremendous blessing and that the negotiations might proceed easily.
But Yusuf’s calm reaction alone made it seem as though things would not be easy.
“You came all this way in such haste because of Khanum Tazlu, I presume?”
“…That is correct. Is she safe?”
“Of course. She is doing very well and is in excellent health.”
Yusuf smiled broadly as he asked,
“Judging by how quickly you came here, she must be a precious person.”
“The Shah is a man who cherishes the women of his harem.”
Khodabandeh drew a line by implying that Tazlu Khanum was not a particularly special woman, but that did not work on Yusuf.
“Hmm. I did not realize that the bloodline of Yaqub ibn Uzun Hasan was so insignificant.”
Yusuf let out a hearty laugh at Khodabandeh’s slightly distorted expression.
“Do not worry. The information did not come from her. She truly wishes to return to Ismail.”
Khodabandeh knew that Tazlu was no fool and had no reason to reveal such a fact to Yusuf, so he let out a sigh.
No matter how Yusuf had learned of it, it was obvious that the negotiations would become difficult.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t think I need to be the one to say that first. How much did you come prepared to pay for her ransom?”
Grinding his teeth at Yusuf’s assertion that he was not the one in a hurry, Khodabandeh spoke quietly.
“We will pay eight thousand Venetian gold coins.”
It was a huge sum for a single person.
After all, Venice, defeated in its war with the Ottomans, paid thirty thousand gold coins annually.
Yet Yusuf said without batting an eye,
“That’s disappointing. It seems her value is lighter than I expected.”
“…How much do you want?”
They surely had not begun by offering the highest amount they could pay, and considering their initial offer, Yusuf could roughly estimate the maximum.
‘Even at most, he probably came expecting to pay around fifteen thousand.’
It was an amount burdensome even for the Safavids, who were still waging wars of conquest and had countless expenses.
For Yusuf, who needed money to produce matchlocks and gunpowder, it was not a bad offer.
Still, wouldn’t it be a shame to settle for that?
“Twenty thousand gold coins, and you will sign an agreement. You must promise not to attack the lands under my rule, including Georgia.”
“That is absurd!”
Twenty thousand gold coins? That alone was far too much.
If it became known that they had paid such an amount for Tazlu, they would be showered with countless condemnations.
‘And on top of that, a nonaggression pact including Georgia.’
Georgia, which had betrayed the Shah and sided with the Ottomans, was one of the territories slated for conquest in the future.
“Please reconsider the terms once more.”
“I believe I have offered sufficiently generous terms.”
Considering the value of Tazlu’s usefulness, Yusuf felt it would be a waste to end the matter with money alone.
If not for the succession war and the assassins Ismail would send, he would even have put her in his harem.
Khodabandeh gave Yusuf, who wore a sly smile, a light glare before sighing.
“We would appreciate it if you gave us time to consider. And I would like to confirm that Lady Tazlu is in good health.”
“Of course.”
“If any blemish has befallen her, you will have to experience the Shah’s wrath.”
I had found it strange that women were included in the embassy.
Since there was no problem at all, Yusuf readily nodded.
∗ ∗ ∗
Tajlu, who welcomed the embassy with a delighted expression, had to undergo a bodily inspection.
Though this could not perfectly prove her chastity, it was something she had to endure if she wished to dispel even the slightest suspicion.
Late that night, Yusuf opened the door to Tajlu’s room. She had been lying there with an exhausted expression, but she glared up at him fiercely.
“Why have you come again?!”
“It seems today’s events were rather humiliating.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?!”
Tajlu shouted harshly.
Having had her chastity—something she had not even lost—called into question, and having endured all manner of questions and a bodily inspection, Tajlu was filled with resentment. Yusuf, meanwhile, casually leaned against the wall.
“Do you hate me that much?”
“Yes!”
In an instant, she had fallen from being a woman favored by the Shah to the very bottom.
Fear must have coiled around Tajlu—that even if she returned to Ismail in this state, she might be treated coldly.
And Yusuf, the root cause of all this, was certainly a fitting target for her anger.
“So, are you thinking of accepting the offer to have me killed?”
“How did you…?”
Yusuf smiled at Tajlu, who had gone stiff as stone.
“There is a reason I did not assign someone specifically to watch over you. Did you think you were alone in this room as a rule?”
Yusuf asked the pale-faced Tajlu,
“Would you truly be able to find happiness even after returning to Ismail’s arms? If you had my help, however, things might be different.”
Tajlu tried desperately to conceal her expression, but to Yusuf, whose attributes and experience surpassed hers, her emotions were plainly visible.
‘She is still inexperienced in many ways.’
There was no need to compare her with Fatima; even against Ayshe, who was her own age, Tajlu fell short in many respects.
It was not difficult to understand why. Even if Ismail had become Shah and established a harem, it could not compare with the Ottomans in either scale or history.
Ayshe, educated by Fatima and Nene—women who had survived the Ottoman harem, a savage arena of female jealousy—was more capable than most officials.
‘Besides, Ismail has hardly had the time to take an interest in his harem.’
Ismail’s eldest son, Tahmasp, had been born in 1514.
He had been born when Ismail was twenty-six by Korean reckoning, which was rather late considering that he had established the Safavid dynasty and become Shah at the age of fifteen.
‘That is how deeply he devoted himself to his wars of conquest.’
In 1507, he invaded Dulkadir; in 1508, he wiped out the remnants of the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty; and in 1510, he brought to an end his eight-year war with Uzbekistan.
He had killed Muhammad Shaybani, the ruler of Uzbekistan, and even made a drinking cup from his skull.
Naturally, the hierarchy of the harem was determined less by the Shah’s favor than by the strength of one’s maternal relatives. Someone like Tajlu would normally have no need to concern herself with anyone’s opinion.
Yusuf gave a derisive chuckle and said,
“Will brooding alone really produce an answer? If there is something you wish to know, I will answer you. Ask.”
“…What did you mean by what you just said?”
“It was hardly so difficult that you could not understand it. I meant that I would help you gain Ismail’s favor and power.”
At this, Tajlu examined him as though trying to discern his true intentions, but Yusuf was not so foolish as to let her see through him.
After staring at him for a long while, Tajlu asked with a sigh,
“For example?”
“I could obtain information you need, or I could take someone’s life. That someone could be another man’s woman—or even a child in her womb.”
At his blunt words, Tajlu’s eyes shook violently.
If it were possible, there was no denying that such help would be of great use.
“Is that really possible?”
“Not now. Planting people is not so easy. But with your help, it would be possible.”
At Yusuf’s statement that he intended to use her to plant spies, Tajlu let out a mocking laugh.
“Then there’s no reason for me to take your hand.”
“If you are relying on your clan, I would advise you to give up. They are more likely to present Ismail with a new woman than to help you now that his favor toward you is wavering.”
In the face of power, blood ties were meaningless, and even members of the same clan were bound to divide into factions according to their interests.
Well aware that there were many who would welcome her downfall, Tajlu gnawed at her lips before speaking.
“Then I can train people myself and plant them.”
“You?”
Yusuf burst out laughing.
Tajlu spoke sharply toward Yusuf, who was clutching his stomach as he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“It is only natural that I would laugh when someone who does not even know she is dancing to another person’s tune says such a thing. Do you really think they proposed an assassination to you without expecting that I would find out?”
At Yusuf’s words, Tajlu wore a confused expression.
He was saying that they had deliberately leaked the assassination plot to Yusuf.
‘He speaks as though he is dismissing Tajlu, but the whole board has been arranged carefully.’
At present, the greatest threat to Ismail was the possibility of Yusuf taking Tajlu for himself.
Affection aside, a man of Ismail’s stature could find another piece to replace Tajlu.
However, if Tajlu went over to Yusuf, who could become the Ottoman sultan, it was highly likely to create troublesome complications.
“They must have expected that I would hear of it, no matter how secretly they made the offer.”
And in fact, he had.
Of course, it was merely a proposal, but no ruler would keep a woman who had conspired to assassinate someone close at hand.
“Simply by conspiring with you to commit an assassination, they can already be considered to have achieved their goal.”
Whether suspicious Yusuf distanced himself from Tajlu, frightened Yusuf killed her, or Yusuf handed over Tajlu—the dangerous element—in exchange for money,
there was no outcome that would be unfavorable to them.
“…I might become your woman out of a sense of betrayal, you know?”
Tajlu slowly approached and placed a hand on Yusuf’s chest. Feeling the tremor in her touch, Yusuf replied calmly,
“Then they will likely do their utmost to kill the two of us. If that is the choice you make, I will not stop you.”
Perhaps things would be different after he became sultan. But with such a difficult road ahead, he had no desire to acquire a dangerous obstacle.
Even so, if Tajlu chose to stay, he was confident he could extract benefits from the arrangement.
‘Though it would become a rather sordid struggle.’
Incitement and fabrication were his specialties, after all.
At Yusuf’s words, Tajlu sighed and stepped away from him.
“Please give me a little more time to think.”
“Of course. In any case, all of this depends on your will.”
To put it bluntly, if she committed suicide, he would be no better off than a dog that had chased a chicken into a tree, and he had no choice but to respect her decision.
Yusuf stepped outside the room, where he faintly heard a sigh heavy with anguish.
∗ ∗ ∗
Even without limiting it to Islam, this was an age in which sons were strongly preferred throughout the world.
In Islam, a woman who gave birth to a daughter had to return to her household duties immediately, while one who bore a son was allowed to rest for forty days.
Hatis, who had given birth to the clearly healthy Murat, deserved generous treatment, and what she wanted was time with Yusuf.
“Look at him. Isn’t he adorable?”
Hatis smiled brightly as she watched Murat working his mouth.
“Look. Don’t his nose and the shape of his eyes look exactly like the prince’s?”
“Hatis.”
Yusuf picked up Murat and stroked his plump cheek.
“You needn’t say that. I know perfectly well that Murat is my son, just like Mehmet.”
As though he had seen through her thoughts, Hatis pressed her lips tightly shut.
She had reason to be anxious. Mehmet, who could be considered Murat’s rival, was already displaying extraordinary ability, learning Arabic at a remarkable pace.
Murat could not be called ordinary either, but Mehmet was a formidable opponent, having already earned the recognition of Yusuf’s subordinates, including Shemsi.
“There is no need to grow anxious worrying about such a distant future. A difference of only a few years means nothing.”
After all, succession was still a distant matter for Yusuf, who was not yet twenty.
Yusuf returned Murat to Hatis’s arms.
“Of course, it is fine to be jealous and wary. I likely cannot stop you from doing even that. But I have no intention of forgiving anyone for crossing the line.”
It was a warning not to threaten Mehmet’s life, as well as a promise that Murat’s safety would be guaranteed.
Hatis, who could receive the aid of Ahmed Pasha, who had risen to grand vizier twice, and Ayshe, who had planted her own people throughout the realm, were equally threatening to each other.
Hatis nodded with a grave expression, and Yusuf lightly kissed her.
“For now, this is a time to celebrate Murat’s birth.”
“I understand.”
Leaving Hatis behind as she held Murat tenderly in her arms, Yusuf exited the room and called for Arda, who had been waiting quietly.
“Arda.”
“Give your order.”
“Clean out Ahmed Pasha’s rats who have entered the castle.”
A greedy man like Ahmed Pasha might try to kill Mehmet now that Murat had been born.
Yusuf had merely watched him because of their relationship, but if he became a threat, it was right to eliminate him.
Arda departed to carry out the order, and Yusuf went to Tajlu’s room to hear the answer he had been putting off.
Tajlu was sitting upright as though she had known he would come, and welcomed him in a low voice.
“You’ve come.”
After spending the past three days in deep thought, Tajlu’s face was slightly haggard.
But her eyes were clear, and it was evident that she had finally made her decision.
“Yes. What decision did you make?”
“I seriously considered becoming your woman instead.”
For her to be willing to abandon the land she had called home all her life and begin anew in a foreign land meant that she had felt deeply betrayed.
Who could blame her, when her life had been treated so lightly?
“But I will return to the Shah. The struggle here seems as though it would be more difficult.”
“Because of my two sons?”
“…It did seem as though Allah favored them.”
Though Tajlu had been brought here as a prisoner, she had been able to hear enough rumors.
Mehmet, whom even outstanding scholars had no hesitation in praising as a genius, was extraordinary, of course, but so was Murat, born a robust and healthy child and already the object of expectations from Arda and the other sipahis.
It was enough to make one doubt whether even a son of his could properly compete with them.
“Not a bad choice. Since Ismail still has no son, that side has the greater chance, I suppose. What about the proposal I made?”
“I’ll accept your help.”
“That would mean betraying Ismail.”
“It’s clear who betrayed whom first.”
Tazlu gave a cynical smile and warned Yusuf.
“And you’d do well not to mistake me for being on your side. The moment I achieve my goal, I’ll seize and kill your hound.”
“If you can, by all means.”
By the time Tazlu gave birth to Ismail’s son, Yusuf would have long since become sultan and would be marching to conquer the Safavid realm.
In other words, he had no reason whatsoever to worry about her threat.
“How do you intend to send the men?”
“When I go out six months from now, they’ll make contact on their own. There’s no need to worry.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
A precarious alliance was forged between them—one in which either side could stab the other in the back at any time, so long as their goals were achieved.
“Then what do you intend to do about the negotiations currently underway?”
Several days had passed since the diplomatic mission’s arrival, but the negotiations had made little progress.
Khodabandeh had already reached the limit of what he could offer, while Yusuf kept chanting “twenty thousand” like a parrot.
He had been so frustrated that he had even lashed out, asking whether Yusuf had any intention of negotiating at all—and, in truth, he had been right.
“I intend to negotiate properly. After I get what I’m owed.”
He was not the sort of man to take a beating and simply let it pass.
∗ ∗ ∗
Khodabandeh faced Yusuf with an exhausted expression.
A five-year nonaggression treaty that included Georgia was already an excessive demand, and the amount of gold coins he wanted was far too great as well.
‘What a swine of a man. It would be better to kill him outright.’
Khodabandeh desperately suppressed the murderous intent surging within him.
This was merely the next-best option, and he had no authority to make the decision himself.
“I’ll say it once again: we have no intention of paying twenty thousand gold coins. Fifteen thousand is the maximum. Otherwise, remove the nonaggression treaty.”
The nonaggression treaty was more important than five thousand gold coins.
With it as justification, they would be able to borrow troops from Georgia.
Under ordinary circumstances, Yusuf would have ignored Khodabandeh’s words, but today was different.
“Fifteen thousand, is it? If you’re truly unwilling to pay another five thousand gold coins, you can pay in something else.”
“What do you mean?”
At Khodabandeh’s question, Yusuf drew the sword hanging at his waist.
“With the heads of the men who made a mess on my land. Bring them in.”
At Yusuf’s command, the door opened, and the rank smell of blood spread through the room.
The soldiers who entered threw more than a dozen heads before Khodabandeh.
The heads, still bearing expressions of fear and pain, belonged to the men who had come with him.
“W-what is the meaning of this!”
“Surely you won’t claim you don’t know why.”
A snake-cold gaze coiled around Khodabandeh, and Yusuf held his blade to the neck of the sweating man.
“You should be grateful. If I hadn’t needed someone to report the results of the negotiations, your head would be rolling around over there as well.”
“…You’ll regret this.”
“A discarded pawn making such a ridiculous threat. Go back and proudly tell your master that you shaved five thousand gold coins off the price with a mere dozen or so lives.”
Yusuf turned away with a mocking laugh, then turned his head back as though he had just remembered something.
“You can leave your right hand behind instead of your head.”
A scream rang out.