“I suppose not. I’m only trying to better understand Ceyden’s situation.”

“The harem is a world of its own. She wanted to climb to the top of it. I would not let her.”

“Are you glad she’s dead?”

“Her existence made no difference to me. It was, occasionally, amusing to watch her unschooled attempts at seduction.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t close to the sultan?”

“No, only to Jemal. She loved him.”

“But the eunuchs...” I was now full in territory that repelled, fascinated, and confused me.

“Are not true men,” she finished for me. “Quite right, but some of them are men enough.”

A thousand questions leapt to my lips, but I could not bring myself to ask a single one. “I didn’t—”

“You are unused to this sort of openness. Such subjects are not forbidden to women here, Lady Emily. Ceyden was not entirely incapable of using her charms, limited though they were, to her advantage.”

“Could Jemal wield influence with the sultan?”

“He would like to think he can influence me.”

“Is he right?”

“Sometimes,” she said.

“Who was watching Roxelana and me in the park? One of the guards?”

“We’ve covered quite enough for today.” She gave me a narrow smile and left the room.

I spent the rest of the afternoon interviewing slaves and concubines, many of them stunning Circassians, the stuff of harem legend in Western tales. These women, brought from the Caucusus Mountains to be sold in Constantinople, were treasured for their beauty—pale, luminous skin, mesmerizing bright eyes, and lustrous hair, blond or dark. Everyone to whom I spoke agreed Ceyden had done whatever she could to gain Abdül Hamit’s notice, but her lack of success in doing so kept her from threatening the positions, or desired positions, of her compatriots. The similarities not only in substance but in verbiage of what they told me made it apparent that someone had coached them, and well. Only a handful of them spoke much English, so Perestu translated for the rest. I had no idea whether she accurately reported to me what they said.