Winds of Change
When a great earthquake strikes, aftershocks follow for some time.
Common sense from the future was knowledge that did not apply in this era, and to begin with, this was an age unfamiliar with earthquakes.
In modern times, one frequently heard news of earthquakes from all over the world, but in this era, they were something one might only encounter in an old tale told by a grandfather.
Yusuf was not particularly pleased with the current situation either.
‘In truth, it’s best to avoid using future knowledge in the form of prophecy.’
If he became sultan and played the role of Nostradamus, in the long run he would lose more than he gained.
The human heart was fickle. People might be enthusiastic now, but if disasters and major problems arose later, they would surely grow suspicious and resentful, asking why he had not prophesied it that time.
That was why he needed to be supported as the master of an empire, not as a prophet.
‘Besides, if I call myself a prophet, there’ll be no shortage of people who look at me with displeasure.’
Even if one set aside the Muslims right before his eyes, the West, which regarded the Ottomans as something like the demon king of Islam, was also a problem.
For example, say he prophesied the earthquake that would occur in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1531.
If they dismissed it as the nonsense of some heathen, and then around thirty thousand people died in the earthquake...
“A wicked heathen has borrowed the power of the devil to bring about a great calamity! It is time for a holy war!”
He could wager Topkapi Palace itself that, with the pope at the forefront, they would cry out like that and form a Holy League to beat down the Ottomans.
As in that example, even if he did not make such prophecies, the mere rumor that a heathen king had performed the miracle of prophecy was already somewhat precarious.
The Reformation was beginning to sprout, witch hunts were occurring frequently, and sitting as pope was the warmonger Julius II, who sought to expand the Papal States through war.
If he provoked them by playing prophet, there was no telling what variables might emerge.
Even though he understood this well, the reason he continued to prophesy aftershocks, including the one in Edirne, was because of the seed he had sown.
‘Selim, who was pointed out as the culprit behind the earthquake, has been executed, yet earthquakes are still occurring. That could become a problem.’
Weak aftershocks that caused no damage were one thing, but aftershocks large enough to be recorded separately were more than enough to cast doubt on Yusuf’s claims.
With all his other brothers dead as well, his position would not be in danger, but he could lose the driving force behind his early reforms.
Though as a result, he now had to face the figures of Islam before him.
“Padishah, then allow me to ask.”
“Speak.”
The Silahdars of the Kapikulu, who were in charge of close protection, radiated a sharp aura as if they would cut down anyone who spoke nonsense, but Zenbilli Ali Efendi, the Sheikh ul-Islam, asked calmly.
“May I know how you knew of the earthquake?”
“Hmm. Do I have any reason to explain that to you?”
“Then I shall ask differently. Do you consider yourself a prophet?”
At Ali’s sharp question, Yusuf gave a faint laugh and asked in return.
“And if I do?”
“According to the Quran, Muhammad is the final prophet. Would you be able to bear what comes after that?”
At Ali’s words, the guards placed their hands on the hilts of their swords and released killing intent.
The killing intent of the finest elite warriors of the Ottoman Empire, men who had survived a suicide mission, was at a level difficult for a scholar to withstand, yet Ali, kneeling there, did not so much as let his eyes waver.
‘As expected of a man who even opposed Selim.’
In the original history, he was known as someone who had opposed Selim, who was harsh by nature, and sure enough, he possessed no ordinary courage.
Yusuf asked with amusement.
“Then what do you think of the fact that I predicted the earthquake?”
“I believe you may simply have been fortunate.”
“Fortunate, you say.”
It was true that he was fortunate. He had received much help from luck until now as well.
However, since they could not know that, Ali was telling him to simply let it pass as good fortune.
The controversy over prophecy was water already spilled, and if possible, he had to salvage what he could.
“Zenbilli Ali Efendi.”
“Yes, Padishah.”
“The empire has grown together with Islam until now, and has regarded it as important. Is that not so?”
“It is.”
When the Ottomans first emerged, Islamic society was reeling as the Crusaders ran rampant in the west and the Mongol Empire in the east.
At that time, the Ottomans drew the support of Islam by declaring that they would, in turn, conquer the lands of the heathens who had invaded Islam.
From its birth to its destruction, the Ottoman Empire’s character as an Islamic empire had been important.
“However, the Islam of the present is too narrow to contain the empire.”
“How can you say something so dreadful?”
At Ali’s agitated response, Yusuf spoke coldly.
“How many centuries ago was the Quran first created? How many nations have fallen in that time, and how much culture has changed? Do you truly think that the Quran of that time, tailored to nomads, is suited to our empire?”
At Yusuf’s point, Ali fell silent.
Muhammad’s Quran clearly reflected the needs of the nomads, who were the central force at the time.
‘The prohibition on pork is similar.’
For nomads, pigs were slow-moving and unsuited to nomadism, required much precious water and food to be shared with them, and were of no help except when slaughtered.
They did not provide wool and milk like sheep, nor labor like cattle.
However, because they tasted good, there were those who raised them despite these problems, and from a leader’s perspective, that was not a very desirable situation.
So it was possible to infer that they had been forbidden for religious reasons.
‘There are many other rules suited to the circumstances of nomads as well.’
The vessel was not suited to contain an empire that was already vast and would become even more vast in the future.
“Are you claiming to be a prophet so that you can create a new Quran?”
“There is no way you, or anyone else, would tolerate such heresy.”
He was already being called a heathen by Christians; he had no reason to volunteer to be treated as a heretic in the Islamic world as well.
Especially when he had to conquer and rule Islamic regions such as the Safavids and the Mamluks. It would only make governance harder.
At Yusuf’s words, Ali looked confused.
“Then what is it you intend to do?”
“I have already conveyed my will. A tolerant empire shall walk the path of glory.”
A tolerant empire was the empire Yusuf envisioned.
By tolerant, he did not mean that he would not wage wars of conquest, but that he would rule various religions, cultures, and races with tolerance.
‘Inclusiveness has a great influence on the development of cities and states.’
Periods of explosive development were usually times when various cultures and peoples mingled freely.
The Islamic Golden Age, when all manner of studies such as mathematics, medicine, chemistry, literature, and architecture flourished, had also been achieved because various cultures—Greek, Roman, Persian, Indian, and more—had combined.
‘There is nothing good about the perspective of a single religion deeply influencing the empire.’
The more the Ottomans declined, the more Islam came to the forefront, and as a result, it had a major impact on the empire’s collapse, such as causing people to look down on science.
This did not mean that Islam was bad, but that the more religion grasped power and shook a nation, the more it caused all sorts of problems.
At Yusuf’s declaration, Ali said with a stiff face.
“Do you intend to abandon Islam?”
“Those who believe in Islam are also my subjects. How could I abandon them?”
Once he conquered the Mamluks, he could also gain the position of caliph, which could be called the pope of Islam, so there was no reason to do so.
“You too shall enjoy glory beneath the shade of my empire, the Ottoman Empire.”
Of course, this tolerance would also apply to heresies favorable to Yusuf.
Even if he did not go out of his way to call himself a prophet and try to change Islam, a heresy that regarded Yusuf as a prophet could emerge, and through it, he could bring change to Islam within the empire.
‘The Quran is similar to Confucius’s Analects.’
It was not something he had written himself, but a book compiled by his disciples from records after his death.
One could argue that there had been no lack of distortion in that process, and one could also question the statement that he was the final prophet.
Even without putting forth such logic, since people had personally witnessed Yusuf’s prophecy, gathering followers would not be difficult.
If he gave strength to such heresies, he could influence Islam to suit his tastes.
Ali could fully anticipate this as well, and he let out a small sigh.
“It seems this old man will be seeing you often over unpleasant matters.”
“If you do not cross the line, we may be seeing each other for a long time.”
Religious leaders such as the Sheikh ul-Islam were a kind of person in charge.
The kind who would be executed if problems such as rebellion occurred.
At Yusuf’s warning, Ali decided for the time being to watch how things unfolded, then paid his respects and withdrew.
Returning to his room, Yusuf sank down into a seat.
“At least it wasn’t without results.”
By twisting the conversation somewhat, he had covered up how he had been able to prophesy the earthquake.
For now, what mattered was that he had bought time.
If he conquered the Safavids and the Mamluks and achieved military results, there would be no need to maintain public sentiment by playing prophet.
“And I need to establish the framework of a proper state.”
It was an age lacking the things people normally thought of when they imagined a state.
There was not even a properly fixed name for the country, so various names were used depending on the occasion, and while there were banners symbolizing the monarch, there was no national flag symbolizing the state.
That was why he had no choice but to use religion in order to occupy territory and govern public sentiment.
“Since the form of a nation isn’t properly established, it’s only natural that patriotism is weak and that things split apart easily when the country is shaken.”
It was necessary to decide on an exact state name, create a national flag, and introduce national literature that would instill the sentiment of being citizens of the same country.
In addition, various forms of education had to be widely implemented.
Of course, since this was an age in which even the concept of a proper nation was faint, it would be a task that took quite a long time, and he could not focus solely on internal organization forever.
“Because eliminating the Safavids led by Ismail is urgent.”
Yusuf looked down at the map.
The Ottoman Empire had many things that needed to be overturned at once, but the Safavids were still too dangerous an enemy for him to devote himself entirely to those matters.
“If we’re careless, they may even join hands with the West.”
Even if they pointed fingers at one another as heathens, if their interests aligned, they could join hands as much as they pleased.
Yusuf declared coldly.
“Two years from now.”
He intended to raise an army to bring down the Safavids.
∗ ∗ ∗
A grand banquet was held in Tabriz, the capital of the Safavid Empire.
For Ismail, lying in ambush with seventeen thousand Qizilbash, had crushed an Uzbek army of twenty-eight thousand and taken the life of its ruler, Muhammad Shaybani Khan.
“Mm, fine-tasting wine.”
Drinking wine from a jewel-adorned skull, Ismail laughed.
It was a wine cup made from Shaybani’s skull, and as Ismail laughed in good spirits, a soldier came before him and paid his respects.
“Great Shah, those who rose in rebellion with Shahkulu request an audience with Your Majesty.”
“Hm. Let them in.”
There was no reason to meet with mere remnants of a defeated force, but Ismail permitted it.
He had just received word that Yusuf, whom he considered his most difficult foe, had become sultan after all, and he needed to hear how Yusuf had fought.
The man, who had fled the pursuit and barely made it to Tabriz, knelt and respectfully paid his respects.
“I behold the great Shah.”
After lightly consoling him for his hardships, Ismail asked,
“Now, tell me the battle situation in detail. How did you come to be defeated?”
At Ismail’s question, the man recalled that moment and trembled faintly.
“A tremendous thunderclap rang out from the enemy’s weapons, and the soldiers who had been charging bravely collapsed in droves.”
“A thunderclap, you say?”
As Ismail stroked his beard as if intrigued, the man beside him spoke cautiously.
“It seems he is referring to the gunpowder weapons the Ottomans possess.”
“They did say such things existed.”
Ismail smiled with interest.
∗ ∗ ∗
The informants Yusuf had chosen to contact Tajlu and assist her were carefully selected from the best.
They were the ones who had spread rumors about Ismail, and also the ones who had reported the five thousand Qizilbash who had tried to bypass Erzurum and attack Trabzon.
“Brother Hasan.”
The man lying in the room sprang up at the voice calling him.
“I told you not to call me by that name!”
The man called Hasan struck his subordinate on the head.
“Isn’t it because of that name that I’m going through all this hardship?”
Because he had carried out a difficult mission perfectly, he had ended up playing spy in the middle of enemy territory.
No matter how he thought about it, he could only conclude that the curse of a Hassan, destined to shoulder excessive labor, had fallen upon him.
After venting his anger lightly, Hasan asked his subordinate,
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing special, but remnants of those who raised a rebellion in the empire stayed in the palace for quite a long time.”
Selecting important information was their core duty, and ordinarily, this was information that would have been omitted.
But Hasan felt it prickle at his nerves in a strange way, and after some thought, he made a decision.
“Include it in the information we send.”
“But isn’t it nothing much?”
“Perhaps. From our perspective, that is. But if it is the Padishah, he may see what we cannot.”
“If we’re reprimanded later, I know nothing about it.”
The subordinate, who got hit once more for adding that unnecessary remark, grumbled as he added the information.
∗ ∗ ∗
Yusuf ran his hand over the chair on which he sat.
It was a seat he had reached by clinging on desperately, at the end of countless sacrifices. He could build a tower with those who had died because of him, and the blood shed over that time would have filled a valley.
It was a heavy price to pay for the primal desire to live and the ambition to become the master of the empire.
The sight of Bayezid being buried with a single silver coin in his bosom, and the sobs of the boy who had now become a pasha, flickered before his eyes.
‘Even so, I do not regret it.’
Yusuf’s sunken eyes grew clear.
It was the fate he had prepared himself for when he became Yusuf, and he had been ready to pay any sacrifice.
Still, having reached this place with such difficulty, it would be a lie to say he did not want to rest.
‘Now that I’ve ascended to the seat of sultan, I could live an amusing life if I simply drowned myself in pleasure.’
Food? Cuisine had developed greatly during the Ottoman Empire’s era.
That was thanks to bringing in spices and fine cooking methods from Persia, vegetable and fish dishes from Greece, and confectionery techniques from Arabia.
Every meal was prepared, quite literally, with the lives of cooks on the line—cooks who would lose their heads if they served the sultan the same dish twice.
He could say it was not inferior even compared to a modern Michelin restaurant.
Then what about women?
‘I could embrace them until my bones rotted away.’
The harem contained women of such diverse races and ages that even if he changed women every day, he could not embrace them all within a year.
And if he merely stated the kind of woman he wanted, there were plenty of people around him who would send even their own daughters into the harem.
Even aside from food and women, there was no shortage of amusements if he wished for them, and there were officials who would run the country on their own even if he took his hands off affairs of state.
The Ottoman Empire was not a country so lacking in foundation that it could not endure simply because the sultan indulged himself a little.
Rather than personally going through hardship to wage wars of conquest, perhaps living amid wine, meat, and women would be a happier life.
“But. I cannot be satisfied with such a trivial life.”
The blood of the Ottomans, which devoured even brothers, could not accept such a life.
Even if he could not achieve the goal of an empire spanning six continents, he had to at least not be ashamed before the future he had broken.
Yusuf tapped the armrest of the chair with his fingers.
“In that case, I must choose and concentrate.”
Possessing knowledge of the future was an enormous advantage.
It meant he could bring out the achievements that countless geniuses had devoted their entire lives to over hundreds of years.
But that did not mean there were no problems at all.
‘First of all, the knowledge I possess is superficial.’
For example, he knew that one could make a niter bed from a dung mixture made with feces, leaf mold, rotten grass, lime powder, wood ash, and the like.
But because he did not know in what proportions or how long it had to be left to rot in order to obtain saltpeter, he had to go through countless trials and errors.
Even if he brought in scientific knowledge, he did not know exactly what experiments should be used to prove it, and even if he brought in mathematical formulas, he did not know precisely how to prove them.
‘Saying that I have discovered truly astonishing knowledge, but there is not enough space in the margin to explain it, only works once or twice.’
Even here in the capital alone, there were plenty of scholars who could be called geniuses, so it would take only a moment for the bottom of his knowledge to be exposed.
Even without citing such reasons, the time he could use was limited, and thinking he could accomplish everything was arrogance.
In the end, it meant he had to focus on the field most necessary for him as sultan.
“The two important pillars of a nation are the economy and military power, but if I had to choose one, in this era it would be military power.”
War was gambling, and the reason one did it was because one could win big if victorious.
Rather than struggling to develop trade goods and bring about an industrial revolution, it was better to conquer and plunder someone else’s land.
In this era, people who thought the same way were everywhere.
In any case, it meant he had to move in a direction that increased military power, and the person he had summoned for that purpose had arrived.
-Padishah, Şemsi Pasha and the craftsman you summoned have come.
“Let them in.”
The door opened, and Şemsi, looking exhausted, entered with an old man and paid their respects.
Yusuf smiled faintly at the old man.
“You have come well, Tahir.”
“I-It is an honor, Padishah.”
While Tahir answered in a trembling voice, a eunuch handed Yusuf a gun.
It was the gun he had only used once during the succession struggle, and he had cherished it so much that he had maintained it himself after using it.
Caressing the gun he had set down beside him, Yusuf spoke gently.
“Tahir, there is no need to tremble. Though my status may have changed, my regard for you has not.”
At Yusuf’s words, Tahir let out a deep breath.
“I can only be grateful that you think so highly of a foolish old man who still clings to his life despite standing before the day of his death.”
“Before the fear of death, things like status or age do not matter.”
“Did that fooli—no, did Hassan not overcome that fear?”
At Hassan’s name, Yusuf burst into a light laugh.
“Come to think of it, Hassan and Nene must have been joined by now.”
When Nene heard that Hassan held her in his heart, she became furious, and the one who stepped in then was Fatima.
Fatima did not especially like Hassan either, but she wanted Nene, who had helped her for a long time, to properly make a family for herself.
The condition Nene set in response to the persuasion of Fatima, whom she served, was that Yusuf become sultan.
‘There was also the countercondition that if I failed, they would die with me.’
Since that gamble with their lives had succeeded, the two of them must have entered into an engagement.
“That is so. Though on their first night she threatened him with a blade rather than sharing her body with him, that frivolous fool laughed, saying even that was good.”
“If he himself likes it, is that not enough?”
Nene was not heartless by nature either, so if he continued to put in the effort, he would eventually see results.
“More importantly, I wonder if he is making the niter beds properly instead of losing his head over a woman.”
“It is the Padishah’s command, so he will do it well.”
The research on niter beds entrusted to Hassan was absolutely necessary in order to secure a stable supply of gunpowder.
Until he conquered the lands of India where saltpeter was produced, he needed to use niter beds to secure a stable supply of saltpeter.
‘With Nene glaring at him from beside him, he won’t neglect the task he’s been given.’
Hassan was someone who, after being freed from slavery, had gone under a new slave master.
When blinded by love, what could one not do?
“Enough about Hassan. Tahir.”
“Yes, Padishah.”
“There are two reasons I called you here from Trabzon.”
“Two reasons, you say?”
Tahir looked puzzled.
He knew one of them was the gun, but he could not guess the other.
“As you expected, the first reason is the gun. In the last battle, the gun fulfilled its role, but I also felt its limitations clearly.”
Leaving aside the need to manage the fire on the match throughout the entire battle, it was far too vulnerable when a sudden fight broke out.
He could not very well ask the enemy to wait while he lit the match.
‘The enemies we face in future wars will mostly be cavalry, and the main battlefields will be enemy territory.’
That meant they could be ambushed at any time.
He could not underestimate the monster-like Ismail, nor the Mamluks who had accumulated wealth through intermediary trade connecting Europe and the Indian Ocean, and if he considered war with Europe, he had to reduce sacrifices as well.
Yusuf picked up his gun from beside him.
“That is why, if possible, I need guns like this one.”
“If they are master artisans of the capital, they will readily accept the skills and experience I possess.”
Though Yusuf had provided the blueprints, readily sharing the fruits born of countless failures and deep deliberation was no easy decision.
“My thanks.”
Of course, arming the troops with flintlock guns that used a piece of flint was not merely a matter of production methods; there were also issues of cost and production capacity.
It was no wonder that even after their development, it had taken over a hundred years for them to completely replace matchlock muskets.
Though obstacles lay ahead—such as iron refining and flint supply—taking the first step itself held significance.
“My second request is that you devote your efforts to crafting small cannons.”
“Small cannons?”
Tahir expressed a negative opinion.
“The problem is not their manufacture; they will not produce the firepower you desire. People did not abandon the idea without reason.”
Cannons had already been in use for hundreds of years, and it was not that no one had thought it would be convenient to attach wheels to small cannons and tow them around.
The issue was technical expertise; because cannons were made by pouring molten metal into molds, the bores into which the cannonballs fit were all inconsistent.
In the end, they could not load cannonballs that fit the muzzle precisely, and when they fired, gas escaped through the gaps, reducing the range.
To increase this range, more gunpowder was needed, and to withstand the explosion, cannons had no choice but to grow larger—hence why large cannons were the mainstay, as they are now.
“So in the end, you mean the holes of the cannons need to be made uniformly similar.”
“That is correct.”
“If the casting method is the problem, then one need only bore them out instead.”
“Ah!”
Tahir, who had already done this when making guns, understood immediately.
The machine used to bore holes was called a boring mill; the reason cannons became lighter in the 18th century was thanks to the cannon-boring mill developed at that time.
“The basic blueprints are currently in the possession of Suleyman Pasha. Study them together with him. He is a clever child; he shall be of help.”
“Understood.”
Boring a large hole into a lump of iron to make a cannon was a different matter from whittling a small iron rod to make a gun.
It was a task he could not fathom undertaking alone even with blueprints, so there was no reason to refuse when an assistant was assigned to him.
Yusuf, having finished his conversation with Tahir, turned his head toward Somsi.
“Pasha, see to it that you provide them with whatever they need. But the introduction of the four-field crop rotation must not be delayed.”
The greatest reason guns replaced bows was that even poorly trained soldiers could be used as effective combatants.
As long as there were plentiful weapons and a population to conscript, troops could be mass-produced.
*A large population to place guns into is, in itself, military power.*
The reason for improving sanitation through urban planning and increasing food through the four-field crop rotation was ultimately to increase the population, and the sooner it was implemented, the better.
Somsi, who had been furrowing his brow at Yusuf for handing off difficult tasks all too easily, let out a deep sigh.
“I shall do my utmost.”
There was no way to refuse or flee, so the answer that left his lips was already decided.
As Somsi was about to express his respects and leave, Yusuf spoke as if he had just remembered.
“Receive some candles on your way out. If a day is insufficient, I ought to lend a hand.”
“…My thanks.”
“I have prepared plenty for the others as well, so use them without hesitation.”
At Yusuf’s generosity of supplying expensive candles so they could work through the night, sighs piled up throughout Topkapi Palace.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Get a grip?! We have to dig more before the rain gets heavier!”
At the supervisor’s shout, those digging the earth to lay the sewers busied themselves even more.
The capital was a place where it rained for half the month once winter came, and a damp, humid atmosphere pervaded under the drizzling rain.
On a day not long after the tumultuous year of 1509 had passed and 1510 had begun, Yusuf was able to meet those he had been waiting for.
“Father.”
“Daddy!”
Mehmet, who had just turned seven, greeted him with dignified manners, but Murat, who was four, ran as if he would fly and threw himself into Yusuf’s arms.
Though only four, Murat was so similar to Mehmet in height and build that he delivered a heavy impact.
“Oh my, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you.”
It was not merely a pleasantry; he seemed likely to grow larger than an adult within ten years.
Yusuf beckoned to Mehmet, who was looking at Murat with nothing but envious eyes.
“Come here.”
“Yes!”
Yusuf patted the head of his son, who approached with an excited face, then turned his eyes to his mother, who wore a gratified expression though she had been left standing aside.
“You have had a hard journey, Mother.”
“When the Padishah summons, what hardship is there? I am fine.”
“That is a relief. You have already paid your respects to Father, I presume?”
Thinking of Bayezid’s coffin, which she had visited to pay respects to first, Fatima made a complicated expression.
The wretched end of a man who had seemed impossibly lofty allowed her to lay aside long-stagnant emotions.
“He was a face difficult to see even when one wished to meet him, so I thought to see him often now, at least.”
“Father would be delighted as well. And since you have come to me now, Mother, I would have you work as the Valide Hatun.”
A smile slowly formed on Fatima’s face, which had been like that of a delicate noblewoman.
“You would entrust the Harem to me?”
“I have checked, and there are still many who could become gifts. Do as you please, Mother.”
A similar smile formed on the faces of both mother and son.
Cold and chilling.
∗ ∗ ∗
Much had happened in the capital during that short period.
Selim, who had seized the capital, had not lasted a month, and those who had stood on his side faced a cold, ruthless judgment.
Being stripped of office was the fortunate outcome; the Janissary commander who had been of great aid to Selim was torn to pieces and thrown to the dogs.
Those vacancies were filled anew, and the entire capital bustled with activity to such a degree that even the common people could feel it on their skin.
There was but one place that had avoided this current; even the Harem was now at a time to greet change.
“Wh-what do we do?! That woman has returned!”
A woman with disheveled hair bit her nails anxiously.
“Asiye Hatun, it is already too late to brood over it.”
“Daye Kalfa! Do you think you will be safe?!”
A kalfa was a position equivalent to sanggung in Joseon, and to Asiye’s reproach, Daye spoke as if resigned.
“It must be Allah punishing the past.”
“So you tell me to sit still?! That woman will surely kill me!”
Venomous green eyes that had never yielded to any threat were vivid in her mind.
That she would come as the Valide Hatun—there was no nightmare worse than this.
“I must go to Eski Saray even now.”
She had stubbornly refused the old palace where wilted flowers lived suffocated until they rotted and crumbled, but now only that place was her final lifeline.
There, she would be far from the Valide Hatun’s eyes.
But alas, even this desperate struggle was impossible.
“It has already been three months since the Padishah restricted the movement of all within the Harem. Do you intend to disobey the command?”
The purpose of this command was obviously to give his mother the opportunity to personally settle old grievances, but there was no way to escape this trap.
As she floundered and wasted time, a stern voice echoed throughout the Harem.
—The Valide Hatun is expected to arrive!
It was the voice of Hazinedar Agha, the chief eunuch, and at the sound of the door opening, the women busily moved.
The top-ranked lady of the Harem was scheduled to arrive; they could not stubbornly remain in their rooms, and the two women went outside.
The scent of women vying for the Sultan’s favor brushed their noses, and the women who had emerged from over four hundred rooms lined up to receive the Valide Hatun.
When Asiye slipped stealthily among them, the thick door of the Harem opened softly.
Once the door closed and Fatima entered the women’s quarters, she removed her hijab, and those gathered paid their respects in unison.
—We greet the Valide Hatun!
The women, trained in court etiquette to serve the Sultan, paid their respects without a single inch of error, and Fatima walked among those with bowed heads.
As if declaring this place her domain, Fatima moved slowly, then stopped and pointed to a woman.
“You, stand up.”
“Y-yes!”
Fatima lifted the chin of the hurriedly risen woman with her thumb to examine her face, then ran her hand down the woman’s body.
Having blatantly scanned from her chest to her pelvis, Fatima asked.
“What is your name?”
“I am called Nigar.”
“You are suitable. I shall remember you.”
“Th-thank you!”
At Fatima’s words, gasps mixed with admiration and regret erupted here and there.
If the Sultan did not come to the Harem himself to choose a woman to favor, but simply summoned one, the woman who had caught Fatima’s eye was most likely the one who would go.
The overwhelmed woman prostrated herself in respect, and Fatima moved on.
Next, just as the women were eagerly hoping they would be chosen, Fatima pointed to another woman.
“Stand up.”
When the woman hesitated at Fatima’s command, the black eunuchs guarding the Valide Hatun’s side glared fiercely.
Unable to endure the focused gazes, the woman stood, and Fatima wore a sneer.
“Asiye Hatun, it has been a long time. Has it not?”
“Y-yes. Valide Hatun.”
Fatima walked up with heavy steps and gently brushed the trembling Asiye’s cheek.
“Only ten years ago you boasted fine skin; I wonder how it has become so coarse. How lamentable. How does my skin look?”
“…You are still beautiful.”
It was not empty flattery; despite being nearly forty, she had not yet lost her beauty.
Fatima held a faint smile.
“Is that so. What a relief.”
At Fatima’s reaction, Asiye tried to relax slightly, but it was too hasty a judgment.
Fatima grabbed her by the neck and yanked her close, whispering into Asiye’s ear.
“When the Padishah was in my womb, the slap I received from you still stings—how fortunate indeed.”
“T-that was because I was foolish then….”
“Do you think it was only then? I lost count of how many times I heard threats to throw me into the Bosphorus Strait. Thinking on it now, it is not a bad method at all.”
Asiye’s body trembled violently as she met Fatima’s green eyes, and soon the stench of urine spread in every direction.
Fatima shoved Asiye away as if she were filthy, then took a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped her hands as she spoke to the chief eunuch behind her.
“I have seen something foul from the very first day. Remove it from my sight.”
Asiye was dragged away by the kalfas who hurried forward, and the women bowed their heads even deeper in fear.
It was a moment that made them feel all too clearly in whose hands the fate of the women of the harem rested.
∗ ∗ ∗
Upon receiving the report of what had happened in the harem, Yusuf gave a faint laugh.
“So she chose to let them wither in torment. Mother is no ordinary woman either.”
Then again, a woman who had endured every humiliation until now to keep her son alive could never have been weak.
He had expected a few women to disappear, but instead she was keeping them at her side and making them experience a living hell.
He had been slightly worried since her right hand, Nene, was away, but at this rate there was no reason to worry.
“I should tell them to send over women for me to take to bed soon.”
Part of it was that the body of a hot-blooded man in his early twenties sought women, and producing children was also an important duty of a padishah.
But this matter was meant to strengthen Fatima’s authority even further.
‘If this were the era after Suleiman, I wouldn’t act like this, but for now it’s fine.’
Suleiman, who had been called the Magnificent, loved his concubine Hürrem Sultan so deeply that he allowed the power of the harem to involve itself in politics, and it became one of the causes of the Ottoman decline.
But for now, even if the Valide Hatun’s influence grew, it would remain confined to the inside of the harem, and that influence could be taken back at any time.
In other words, there was no need to fear it unnecessarily.
‘More importantly, Hürrem Sultan. Around now, she should be about ten years old.’
She was a woman judged by some as a wicked woman who set the Ottomans on the path to ruin, but his personal assessment of her was neutral.
What reason would a woman abducted in a raid by the Crimean Khanate have to be loyal and patriotic toward the empire?
However, putting aside matters of emotion, if one looked only at the historical basis that she coveted luxury and power and caused the country to decline, she was someone who could be criticized.
She was the sort of figure whose evaluation could differ depending on one’s perspective.
‘It’s a meaningless thought, since there’s little chance Hürrem Sultan will appear before me.’
The fate of the Crimean Khanate that would have kidnapped her had already been twisted greatly.
“Grand Vizier, is the Crimean Khanate still requesting an audience?”
“Yes. Their requests are becoming more insistent with each passing day.”
“Would that not be because they have grown impatient?”
Shemsi’s assessment was accurate.
If they had supported Selim with thirty thousand cavalry, then from the Crimean Khanate’s perspective, they had made an enormous bet on Selim, only for Selim to end up delisted.
Their investment, the cavalry, had been captured as prisoners, and even if they wanted to plead for mercy, they could not so much as see a strand of Yusuf’s hair.
‘If Selim had remained in Kefe, they would have captured him and sent him as an apologetic gift, but even that became impossible.’
They would never have dreamed that the fleeing Selim would merely set foot in Kefe and then return to the capital together with Suleiman.
Yusuf could have wagered Hasan that Mengli, the khan of the Crimean Khanate, had clutched the back of his neck upon hearing the news.
The grand vizier, watching Yusuf’s mood, spoke cautiously.
“Your Majesty, we cannot postpone the disposition of the Crimean Khanate forever.”
“That is true.”
He was not worried that the terrified Crimean Khanate would betray him.
Mengli, the current khan, was a man who had once offended the Ottomans and been dragged all the way to the capital by the hand of Yusuf’s grandfather, Mehmed II.
Not only did he know the might of the Ottomans well, but with thirty thousand of his main forces gone, he could not even dream of betrayal.
“As expected, the problem is the countries surrounding the Crimean Khanate.”
“Yes. We do not know how long they will simply watch the weakened Crimean Khanate.”
The Crimean Khanate was notorious for its brutal raids, so the neighboring countries had been grinding their teeth over it, and now was the perfect chance for revenge.
For the moment, they were watching the Ottomans’ reaction, but no one could be certain how long they would remain still.
“I suppose I do have to make a decision.”
The reason he had delayed the decision was partly to keep the other side anxious, but also because he had not settled on a definite punishment.
Yusuf’s mind worked quickly.
‘From the Ottoman perspective, the Crimean Khanate is a kind of subcontractor.’
There was a reason they had not fully incorporated it into their own territory and instead kept it as a vassal state.
Raiding was an effective way to reduce an opponent’s national strength, but doing it directly would create great friction with other countries.
However, if the Crimean Khanate carried out the raids, they could avoid responsibility by saying, “We know nothing about it, so take it up with them directly!”
In other words, they were like lips that protected the teeth from being chilled.
“If I followed my heart, I would cut off the Crimean Khanate’s lifeline, but that would not do.”
“It would only expand our borders and disperse our military strength.”
There was no need to waste strength in the north when the delicious Mediterranean lay before them.
All the more so in an age when new sea routes were being pioneered and everyone was heading out to sea.
“Hmm. Still, I cannot let this end without any punishment. Should I drag down Mengli, the one responsible?”
Mengli had led the Crimean Khanate for a long time.
He was two years older than Bayezid, who had already passed away, so Yusuf thought it was about time for him to step down without lingering regrets.
“Then I should evaluate it once this time.”
“Evaluate what, Your Majesty?”
“We have confirmed the brotherhood between our empire and the Principality of Samtskhe. This time, we should evaluate how the Crimean Khanate’s brotherhood fares.”
Yusuf gave a chilling smile.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Damn it. Why are they still refusing us! What do they want!”
The furious Mengli threw the table before him, and one of the soldiers standing silently nearby was struck and collapsed.
As Mengli panted for breath and suppressed his rage, his son Mehmed spoke confidently.
“There is no need to worry too much. The empire will not be able to abandon us.”
“…I suppose not.”
At the words of Mehmed, who had been his successor and co-ruler, Mengli sank down into his seat, and his other son, Saadet, spoke cautiously.
“However, seeing as they are avoiding us so blatantly, it does make me uneasy.”
“Saadet, what do you know that you dare to interfere? Stay quiet.”
At his older brother Mehmed’s rebuke, Saadet took a step back.
Unlike his forty-six-year-old brother, Saadet was only nineteen, and compared to Mehmed, who had long held the formal position of heir, he had no real right to speak.
Mengli, who had been listening to their conversation, waved his hand.
“Saadet’s words are not wrong either. We should prepare generous gifts at the very least, Mehmed.”
“Give the order.”
“Go and procure gifts to offer the padishah.”
“Understood.”
The cavalry of the brutal Crimean Khanate moved out to raid.