Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 46

#46. Those Who Move (1)

Though the sun hadn’t yet set, the castle gates were firmly closed, strictly controlling access to outsiders.

More than twice the usual number of torches hung on the walls, brightly illuminating the surroundings, and the soldiers stood guard with sharp alertness.

Fearing that even the smallest noise could cause trouble, the horses in the stables were moved outside the castle walls.

As if walking on eggshells, the people inside the castle moved silently, with only one place bustling with activity.

“Allahu Akbar [God is the greatest].”

As the birth drew near, the midwives brought in a birthing chair with a hole in the seat and devoutly prayed to God.

In Islam, the process from pregnancy to childbirth was considered a sacred struggle, a jihad [holy struggle], and it was regarded as so important that if a mother died during childbirth, she would be considered a martyr.

With hearts full of reverence, as if performing an important ritual, the midwives began to work in earnest, and soon Aisha’s screams echoed throughout the castle.

How many hours had it been already?

The labor had started during the day, but even now, with the sky pitch black, no news had arrived.

Maintaining as much composure as possible, Yusuf asked Shemsi, who was drinking surrogate coffee with him.

“Didn’t you say that Pasha’s children are studying in Kostantiniyye [Istanbul]?”

“That is correct.”

The capital was home to the best educational institutions, and it was not unusual for parents with some standing, like Suleiman or Yaya, to send their children there for education.

Come to think of it, he didn’t seem to have paid much attention to the personal affairs of Shemsi, who could be considered his closest aide.

Though it was largely because Shemsi didn’t share much about his personal life.

“Pasha’s son, huh? I should have met him when I visited the capital.”

“He is still far from being worthy of catching the prince’s eye.”

“If he resembles Pasha, then there’s still hope.”

Hopefully, he doesn’t inherit the expressionless face.

Dealing with Shemsi’s inscrutable expressions is enough for me.

“What did it feel like when you had your first child?”

“I think I was anxious back then too. When I held my son in my arms, I offered a prayer of thanks to God.”

Shemsi, actively expressing his emotions? Honestly, it’s hard to imagine.

After saying that, Shemsi took a sip of surrogate coffee to moisten his throat and said,

“Still, as someone who became a parent before you, let me advise you that Allah [God] can take back the gifts he has given at any time.”

It was a statement that one might get angry about for bringing up bad luck on an important day, but it was also necessary advice.

A ruler always had to maintain reason.

Even in the face of the death of a child, whom he regarded as a gift from Allah.

As a heavy silence settled, a knock came with the news they had been waiting for.

-Your Highness, the delivery is over.

There were many things Yusuf wanted to ask, such as whether Aisha and the child were alright and what the gender was, but Yusuf simply rose from his seat.

That was a matter he could see for himself.

With a stern face, Yusuf walked down the hallway and into the room where Aisha was.

“You’ve come?”

Seeing Fatima greeting him with a smiling face, the result was easy to guess.

“It’s a son.”

It might sound cold, but even though Islam nominally taught that men and women were equal, it was an era where preference for sons was rampant.

If it had been a daughter, Fatima would not have been holding her so dearly with a smiling face.

“Yes, it’s a boy.”

Fatima carefully handed him the baby wrapped in a white swaddle and a child’s outer garment.

Hanging on the baby’s clothes was an amulet called a boncuk [evil eye bead], a blue bead with white and black pupils drawn on it, meant to ward off evil spirits.

Holding the heavy baby, Yusuf carefully looked at him.

Perhaps because he had been washed and sprinkled with salt according to tradition, there was no unpleasant smell, and honey had been applied to his lips in the hope that he would speak sweet and beautiful words.

It was a somewhat decorated appearance, but honestly, a newborn baby was just a lump of flesh that couldn’t even open its eyes.

It was a face that he couldn’t even compliment as cute, but it gave him a strange feeling.

“Are Aisha and the baby both alright?”

At Yusuf’s question, Fatima nodded.

“Fortunately, they are both safe, or so I’m told. Of course, Aisha will need to be watched more closely.”

It was an era when one in four mothers died from puerperal fever, and childbirth was considered more dangerous than going to war.

Of course, an experienced midwife would know to block outsiders and use boiled water and clean cloths, but that wasn’t enough to completely prevent infection.

Having ordered that they disinfect with strong distilled spirits just in case, Yusuf brushed off his worries and said,

“Aisha will be fine.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

Yusuf looked down at the wriggling baby and thought.

‘How long will he be able to survive?’

The baby might die before passing the infant stage, when most children die, or if he doesn’t become the Sultan, he might be killed by his brothers, including Selim.

Even if he becomes the Sultan, he might die in a dispute with other brothers who will be born in the future.

The future is something no one knows.

“Try to survive as long as possible, Mehmed.”

***

The princes reduced their public activities as if by agreement and confined themselves to their respective sanjaks [districts].

On the surface, it seemed as if peace had arrived, but those sensitive to the political situation felt that it was the calm before the storm.

In the shadows, a fierce battle was already taking place.

Espionage to extract information and counter-espionage activities to prevent information leaks were underway, repeating a situation where blood literally washed away blood.

Even in Trabzon, it was not considered strange for bodies to occasionally wash up on the harbor.

Yusuf, who had more secrets than his other brothers, focused on counter-espionage rather than espionage, but that didn’t mean he was neglecting external information.

“My brothers are so busy.”

Whether it was good luck or the skills of the spies he sent were excellent, he was able to know what his brothers were up to.

“Selim was most concerned about Mehmed after all.”

Including Abdullah, who died first, Mehmed was the sixth brother and the Sanjakbey [governor] of Kefe, which was adjacent to the Crimean Khanate.

He was originally the person who would have entered into a political marriage with the Crimean Khanate instead of Selim.

Kefe, located in the northern Black Sea, was in a position that hindered exchanges with the Crimean Khanate, and there was a possibility that the Crimean Khanate might have an affair with Mehmed, so it was worth eliminating him.

“Korkut still can’t let go of his obsession with Saruhan.”

His obsession was so severe that he was targeting Mahmud, who had been newly appointed as the Sanjakbey of Saruhan.

Well, he had to get rid of the newcomer so he could return.

“If things continue like this, all those below the sixth will die soon, just like in history.”

Even if they are of the Ottoman bloodline, not everyone is born as monstrous as Selim or Suleiman.

So they don’t even know that Alemshah, who went ahead, is waving from beside Allah.

Putting aside thoughts of his brothers, who didn’t arouse much interest, Yusuf pointed to one side of the map.

“The unexpected one is Ahmet. I didn’t expect him to show interest in Shehinshah.”

The spies sent by Ahmet are traveling to and from Konya, Shehinshah’s territory.

He didn’t know what they were doing, but considering the brotherhood between the princes, it couldn’t be a good thing.

Shehinshah didn’t seem to know much, so it was difficult to make a separate judgment, and after pondering for a moment, Yusuf thought simply.

“It would be good if he gets caught in the scheme and dies, and if not, oh well.”

Yusuf’s power was large enough that he didn’t feel threatened by one or two more princes.

The Circassians and Georgians were already widely known as Yusuf’s allies.

The Circassians, who had no choice from the beginning, and the Georgians, who were forced to go all-in on Yusuf after being whipped by conquest, were virtually in the same boat.

‘Dukakinzade Ahmet, who asked to become a Sanjakbey, also became the Sanjakbey of Ankara as in history.’

If an Ottoman child survives for 40 days after birth, they have a ritual called the 40 Hamam [40 baths] in a Turkish bath, where the child, mother, and midwives invite relatives and neighbors to enjoy themselves in the hamam.

Ahmet’s congratulatory gift arrived not long after that ritual, showing how friendly he was.

‘But I can’t completely trust him.’

He couldn’t even trust his family properly, so how could he trust someone he had only met once?

It was easier to think of him as a neutral party who would take his side if the conditions were right.

On top of that, another gift from Ahmet was about to arrive.

-Yusuf, a guest from the capital is requesting to see you.

“Let them in.”

He had already heard the news that they had arrived at the port.

At Yusuf’s permission, the door opened, and a woman with her face covered by a hijab [veil] and two servants followed behind.

The woman, with only her blue eyes visible, bowed to Yusuf.

“I greet Prince Yusuf. I am Hatice, the daughter of Hersekzade Ahmet Pasha.”

He didn’t know if she was a real daughter, but just from the way she bowed, he could tell how much education she had received.

“You’ve come a long way.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

As Hatice answered politely, the door that wasn’t properly closed opened, and women including Fatima entered.

“So, you’re Hatice? I am Fatima Hatun.”

“I look forward to working with you, Fatima.”

Perhaps because her first impression wasn’t too bad, Fatima nodded readily.

For Fatima, there was nothing wrong with increasing the number of people in her son’s harem.

However, it was not the same for the person who greeted her next.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Aisha.”

There was a chill in Aisha’s voice, and Hatice, slightly curving her eyes, took off her hijab when she saw that there were only women in the room except for Yusuf.

Hatice, who neatly arranged her flowing black hair, was a beauty with a refined impression, and she politely greeted Aisha.

“As a woman of Prince Yusuf, I look forward to working with you.”

Hatice, who placed herself on equal footing with Aisha, gave a bright smile.

***

Shehinshah tapped the chair anxiously.

To ignorant people, the status of a prince might seem enviable, but to him, it was a nightmare.

The fact that he had to kill all his other brothers to become the Sultan was too heavy a fate.

It was no wonder that he turned to alcohol to overcome this burden. On days when he was heavily drunk, he could sleep comfortably.

However, he shouldn’t reach for anything beyond alcohol.

“Paredin, Paredin! Why isn’t he coming?”

Shehinshah desperately searched for Paredin, his doctor and the one who first recommended opium.

It hadn’t been long since he had directly used it, but he was already addicted to opium, which had penetrated his weak heart.

As Shehinshah felt anxiety and unease, a knock came to his ear.

-Prince Shehinshah, a guest has arrived.

“A guest? I don’t need it! Is there any news of Paredin?”

Shehinshah, who had no intention of meeting anyone, refused firmly, but he changed his mind at the words that followed.

-They say they have news of Paredin.

“Let them in!”

The middle-aged man who entered at the permission was someone Shehinshah had never seen before, and it wasn’t difficult to grasp that he was a wealthy merchant from the ring on his hand and the clothes he was wearing.

Shehinshah calmed his wildly beating heart and asked.

“Who are you? You know news of Paredin?”

“Nice to meet you, Your Highness. I am Ishbat, a merchant.”

“Yes, Ishbat. Where is Paredin now?”

At Shehinshah’s question, Ishbat bowed politely.

“You must not keep him close. He is a henchman under the orders of Ahmet.”

“…My brother’s?”

Shehinshah frowned.

He thought it was possible, but it wasn’t something he wanted to easily believe.

“Who are you?”

At Shehinshah’s cold question, Ishbat answered.

“I am Ishbat Bey, serving Shah Ismail. I have come to help Shehinshah-nim [term of respect] according to the Shah’s orders.”