Understanding something, being able to intellectually accept and incorporate new ideas, new ways of doing things, and new experiences was not the same as being ready. This truism became self-evident as the cortege Alev’s small party was part of waited before the portico of Wawel Castle, residence of the King of Poland and, if the story the Haseki Hürrem Sultan had carefully crafted held up, Alev’s home for the foreseeable future.

With the same ruthless attention to detail with which Hürrem conducted all of her affairs, Alev had been prepared as best she could be prior to leaving the Topkapi Palace. Sending her off as a vassal of Sulyman the Magnificent, a man who was a threat to both the West’s territorial integrity and its religion to the court of a Christian monarch would have doomed the enterprise before it had even set out. While Alev would have been received with all the honors and courtesies due a personal representative of the Haseki Hürrem Sultan, she would have been kept at arms distance and carefully watched by those charged with protecting the Crown, its secrets, and the church it paid homage to. Success in carrying out her charter depended upon Alev’s ability to come and go as she wished within the close-knit social fabric the King’s court wrapped itself in. Achieving this required the creation of a legend that was not only credible, but verifiable. It was toward this goal that much of the time set aside preparing Alev was dedicated.

“As you well know, at present we are at war with the Kingdom of Hungry. The focus of that war is the control of the Danube,” Hürrem pointed out as she traced her finger along a map stretched out on a table. “From its source in the Swabian Jura in the Duchy of Württemberg, it flows through the heartland of the Hapsburg Empire, the Kingdom of Hungry, and onto our western provinces before emptying into the Black Sea. It provides whoever controls it a pathway into Europe that can be used for commerce in times of peace, and a means of moving soldiers, cannon, and supplies during war. At present our ability to use it for either purpose is blocked by the Hungarians and, of greater significance, Vienna.”

Pausing, she lightly tapped the intricate drawing of a heavily fortified city printed on the map that represent Vienna with the tip of her index finger as a thought she did not share with Alev distracted her. After but a moment, she gave her head a quick shake and continued. “Once we are free to use the Danube, the Sultan’s army will be able to move the where-with-all needed to reduce Vienna and open the way for further expansion into Western Europe.”

Alev knew better than to inform Hürrem that she was well aware of the river’s significance. There was no need to. The woman already knew she did. What Hürrem wished to do was to incite and excite her protégé by playing up her role in the great game of war and conquest rulers engaged in.

“The Polish Queen has no love for the Hapsburgs,” Hürrem pointed out when she continued. “Neither do many Hungarians. Unfortunately, they find themselves caught between our goals and the ambitions of the Hapsburgs. Being a Christian nation, the Hungarians naturally choose the devil they know.”

Hürrem ignored the sideward glance Alev regarded her with when her mind finished the old saying her mentor had drawn upon to make her point as she moved onto her next one. “Within Hungry there are a number of men who think themselves shrewd by trying to find a third way or, failing that, by pledging their support to one side while currying favor with the other. One such man is an important magnate whose holdings in the Eastern Hungarian Kingdom share a border with both our lands and those of Poland. He is currently engaged in a particularly dangerous three way game. While loudly proclaiming his fealty to his monarch, he parleys with us, pledging he will not raise his hand to stop us when the time comes for us to move north. At the same time, he is seeking protection from the Polish crown.”

Unable to help herself, Alev could not keep from making her views on the behavior of the man Hürrem was speaking of known. “Surely he does not expect such a stratagem to go unnoticed or unpunished. He must know that in time his perfidy will be discovered by one party or another.”

Smiling, Hürrem reached out and placed a gentle, caring hand on Alev’s unblemished cheek. “Never presume to know what men think they know, and never underestimate the ability of a man to delude himself. It is a weakness we women are often able to capitalize on in order to advance our own agendas.”

Having been so conditioned to think of herself as female, Alev saw nothing odd about the way Hürrem had referred to her. Instead, she turned to the matter at hand, wishing to impress Hürrem by cutting to the chase. “Am I to assume this Hungarian magnate will serve as a bridge that will see me safely into the Kingdom of Poland?”

The smile in Hürrem’s face grew wider. Yes, she told herself. This child is ready to serve me. At the time, Alev had shared that belief. It was not one that did not last very long.

The time spent as guests of the Hungarian magnet who was in league with Hürrem was barely enough for the small party that had set out from Constantinople to shed the last vestiges of their origin and allow Ceren, who continued to see to Alev’s personal needs, and the three Hungarian janissaries sent along as an escort and guardian to once more become comfortable with their native tongue. It also allowed that trio, augmented by hand-picked members of the magnet’s personal retainer they had met at the border between Christian and Muslim lands, to intercept and waylay a party of Italian merchants making their way north. That every one of them, to include a young woman of noble birth, was slain during that brief but vicious ambush was dutifully noted in the first dispatch Alev sent back to Hürrem, but otherwise forgotten as Alev turned her thoughts to other, more immediate concerns.

The stay in Eastern Hungry was not near long enough for Alev to do anything more than recover from the cultural shock she found herself reeling under as her party, now encumbered by the carts, merchandise, and pack animals taken from the Italians, set off for the Royal city of Kraków. “You need not worry yourself,” Ceren reminded Alev whenever she noticed her mistress’ mounting anxiety became too much for her to mask, darkening her expression and leaving her sullen and withdrawn. “All save the Hungarian lord who was our host and those who took part in the attack believe your story. No one in Kraków will be any the wiser.”

Any thought of confiding in Ceren, telling the young fair-haired Hungarian slave that it was not the legend Hürrem had taken such great care to fashion that had her on edge. Telling her anything of importance was dismissed out of hand. The girl and her lose tongue could not be trusted any more than the three janissaries who stood watch over Alev’s door at night and followed her wherever she went. Having watched the way they had laughed and chattered amongst themselves as they were cleaning Italian blood off their hands, Alev had no doubt they would not hesitate a jot to shed hers if they suspected she was straying from her appointed task.

Unsure just how ready she really was, fearful of sharing her concerns with another, and feeling more alone than she ever had, Alev kept her own council as they passed through the well defended portico of Wawel Castle. The lies she would need to use in order to convince the Poles were as convincing as was her presentation. It was her ability to behave as if they were true, conducting herself in a manner that matched, what was for her, her fourth reincarnation that troubled her, leaving Alev wondering how and when, not if, this strange journey of hers would end.

Following a brief respite during which Ceren could do little more than brush off the oppressively heavy, western garments her mistress was attired in, Alev was led from the guest apartment located on the first floor of the castle’s residence to the Chamber of Deputies. There she waited on the covered arcade over looking the Italian inspired open courtyard to be announced.

With her attention focused on rehearsing in her mind the obeisance she would need to perform when called forth into the presence of the Polish monarchs, Alev did not immediately advance into the room when the marshal of the court called out the name she was now using, Alessandra d’Este, who was a grandniece to Bona Sforza, the wife of Sigismund I, and Queen of Poland. It took a less than subtle clearing of a throat from the young page escorting her to alert her she had been announced.

With a start and a quick shack of her head, Alev drew herself up before quickly stepping off, advancing at a stately, well measured pace into the spacious chamber toward the King and Queen seated at the far end. Being familiar with the way women of the Harem were in the habit of whispering to each other or giggling loud enough to be heard whenever she entered a room, Alev was able ignore the hushed murmurings courtiers gathered in the crowded chamber exchanged. It was the sound of her own footfalls on the marble floor, tapping out a steady cadence like the beating of a drum, the fluttering of her skirt’s hem being kicked about by the toe of her shoe, and the fixed, questioning gaze with which the Polish Queen held her that Alev focused on.

Bona Sforza was the only person in all of Poland that mattered. Win her over, convince her of the legend the Hürrem had taken such care to craft, and all would be well. Fail, and… Well, Alev told herself as she came to a stop and sunk into a deep, western style curtsy, failure and the punishment that followed couldn’t possibly be any worse than the torment she’d suffered at the hands of Brother Dominic.

“Rise, child,” Bona Sforza commanded with a sharpness that caused Alev to respond without hesitation. Lifting her eyes, she briefly met the Queen’s gaze in an effort to gauge how best to proceed. Unlike Hürrem’s, eyes that were a weapon she wielded with great skill and effectiveness, Bona Sforza’s steady, unflinching gaze reminded Alev of the way a large, predatory cat fixes its pray before pouncing.

“I was distraught when I heard of your misfortune,” Bona Sforza declared in a tone that was as cold and hard as the tile floor Alev was standing on. “I trust no harmed befell you during the time you were held captive.”

Which time? Alev found herself thinking. During my childhood at the monastery where all hope of a promising future had been brutally crushed in order to serve the needs of a few ambitious men? When I was taken by others for no other reason than to honor the needs of their masters? Or in the years following that pivotal and very bloody day as I went from being an object of curiosity in one part of the Topkapi to another where I better fit, but did not belong? Alev had learned suffering came in many forms that were not always visible or be forgotten and captivity was more than a physical state of being.

Dropping her gaze to the floor, Alev took a second to banish her untimely reflections. Only when she was ready did she once more look up and reply in a manner that informed the Polish Queen and distant relative to the girl whose place she had taken that she had not been violated or dishonored in any way, at least not by the imaginary brigands who had waylaid the caravan Alessandra d’Este had been traveling with. For the girl whose place she’d taken, that much was true. The janissaries had wasted little time with her. They just killed her.

“I was untouched by my captors,” Alev whispered in a small voice she hoped would come across as she expected a girl her age would respond if forced to answer such a question before the assembled lords and ladies of a kingdom.

“His lordship, Stephen Grabski will be pleased,” Bona Sforza declared crisply.

Now was the time, Alev told herself as she drew in a deep breath, dropped her gaze ever so slight, and prepared herself to deviate from the script the assembled courtiers expected. Drooping her shoulders and bowing her head, she allowed her hands to fall listlessly to her side as if the strings that had been holding her erect had just been cut. She waited until she heard a fresh wave of mutters sweep through the crowd as the members of the Polish court took to speculating amongst themselves what had caused the Italian girl to suddenly break form.

After allowing this muttered gossip to reach a level Bona Sforza could not ignore, Alev peeked up at her. She was more than pleased when she saw the Queen was struggling to keep from smiling, for it meant the woman understood what was afoot and was prepared to play her role in this staged piece of play acting.

“Is there something you wish to say?” Bona Sforza asked as she took to the game.

Before responding, Alev made a great show of looking to her right, then to her left, warily eyeing the courtesans who were watching her every move. “Your majesty, I…I…”

Again, Alev lowered her gaze as she lapsed into silence that alerted the gathering the subject was either too difficult or too delicate to broach in such a public setting, an assumption reinforced by the blush rising in the Italian girl’s cheek.

All eyes quickly shifted from Alev to Bona Sforza when she rose to her feet, bringing their speculative chatter over why the Italian girl was behaving so to an end as they now turned their full attention to their queen, waiting to see how she would respond to this most unexpected departure from the script all had come to witness.

“Come. We shall continue our discussion in private,” Bona Sforza declared without bothering to seek the King’s permission to leave his presence.

For the first time since coming into his presence, Alev took a moment took study the King, the titular head of Poland. His eyes, dull and half closed, were fixed on something on the far side of the room, an object his mind did not embrace. The stories were true then, she concluded. Sigismund the Old was a doddering shell of a man, a king in name only who was no longer able to command the respect or homage his high office demanded from his subjects. Bona Sforza, a woman like Hürrem whose power and authority far exceeded the traditional mandate governing the conduct of a queen was the true head of state.

Without further ado, Bona Sforza stepped down from the dais and swept past Alev without waiting for a response from her.

Alev did not follow, not immediately as her eyes lingered a bit longer on Sigismund, realizing for the first time that everything Hürrem had done to date were but a prelude, preparation for the day when Suleyman, known in the west as the Magnificent, lost his grip on the instruments of state as Sigismund had. Would she be able to wield her hard won authority as freely as Bona Sforza did? Or would she be reduced to remaining in the shadows, playing puppet master to a son she had taken such care to groom for that role?

All were questions that were of no importance at the moment as Alev turned and took to following in the wake of the Queen.

“What became of the girl?” Bona Sforza asked in Italian after a servant withdrew, closing the door of the private study she had led Alev to.

Hesitating, Alev warily eyed the massive tapestries covering the walls of the room, wondering if they, like the intricate lattice of the Topkapi, were used to conceal the eyes and ears of a trusted lieutenant.

“We are quite alone,” Bona Sforza informed Alev as she was taking a seat behind a desk.

Turning her attention toward the Polish Queen, Alev drew herself up and tilted her head back ever so slightly. “Dead, your majesty,” she replied in the language of her mother’s people.

There was a momentary hesitation as Bona Sforza averted her gaze and took to mulling something over in her mind. “Just as well,” she finally murmured without looking up from a spot on the desk.

There was no need to ask the woman what she meant by that comment. Alev was well aware of stories concerning the cruelties and horrors that awaited Christians sold to the Turk as slaves. No doubt, she thought as she took a seat the Queen motioned toward with a wave of her hand, the woman believed them. Not that this was a bad thing. Belief that the people Alev was representing were a cruel and barbaric lot would serve as a warning that need not be verbalize and, by extension, was not to be taken lightly.

Bona Sforza waited until Alev was settled before turning to the subject at hand. “Have you a message from your mistress?”

“The Haseki Hürrem Sultan sends you her greetings,” Alev declared crisply as she easily slipped into a role Hürrem had been preparing her for. “She wishes to inform you Padeshah, the King of Kings, the Unique Arbiter of the World’s Destinies, the Master of Two Continents and the Two Seas, and Sovereign of East and West has no interest in the lands the Kingdom of Poland claim as their own.”

“For now,” Bona Sforza snipped.

Unable to help herself, the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Only Allah, the master of all men, is able to see what the future holds for we, His humble servants.”

Alev’s rejoinder, delivered without hesitation and with a warning that was mistakable served its intended purpose. It informed a woman who shared Hürrem ambitions that the young woman seated across the desk from her was a representative of the most powerful empire in the world driven by an aggressive ideology that demanded its followers spread their faith to all who did not embrace it. Drawing back ever so slightly, Bona Sforza raised an eyebrow as she took to reconsidering her approach to what was, for her, a very delicate matter, one that was at odds with her husband and many of the Polish nobles who viewed her and her activities with increasing suspicion. While her husband was no longer in control of his own faculties, and thus not a concern, the nobles who had a say in national policy could not be ignored. It was what they would do to her if they discovered she was dealing with the infidels, and not the threat of eternal damnation for betraying her faith, that forced Bona Sforza to rely on subterfuge and deceit in order to advance her self-serving goals.

“What are your mistress’ intentions?” Bona Sforza asked cautiously.

“The Haseki Hürrem Sultan wishes only to honor the wishes of the Sultan, our one, true master,” Alev declared in a tone of voice that bordered on being a touch imperious.

“Which are?”

Both the Queen’s manner and the tone of her voice told Alev she no longer had the need to assert her status as a representative of Hürrem as she had been. She therefore eased back in her chair and gently laid her hands on the chair’s armrests as she took to laying out as much of Suleyman’s intentions, as explained to her by Hürrem, as she was at liberty to.

Once Alev had finished, Bona Sforza took to carefully weighting her options and the words she would use to lay them out before speaking. “What does the Sultan offer in return for my pledge to keep Poland from interfering with his war in Hungry?”

In effort to test just how serious the Polish Queen was in her desire to treat with a representative of Hürrem, Alev suddenly rose to her feet. “It has been a long and tiring day, your majesty,” she declared before Bona Sforza, taken aback by Alev’s sudden move, was able to recover her poise. “With your permission, I wish to withdraw and refresh myself before we discuss that, as well as how you intend to deal with the man Alessandra d’Este was betrothed to.”

Though she was caught off guard by the young woman’s manner and angered by the girl’s insolence, Bona Sforza recognizing it for what it was. “Of course,” she replied through clenched teeth. “I look forward to discussing that, and other matters later, after you have had an opportunity to rest and we have dined with the King.”

Stepping back toward the door, Alev curtsied. “I look forward to both.”

Whatever satisfaction Alev had been able to carry away over how she had acquitted herself in the presence of the Queen evaporated that evening as she discovered just how unprepared she was to deal with an aspect of culture she’d never been exposed to; the social interplay between men and women. It was only in retrospect that she appreciated this was a problem she should have anticipated. After all, she’d spent the first ten years of her life as a boy sequestered away within the walls of a monastery. The years she spent at the Topkapi under the tutelage of Tilki had, if truth be known, been little different, for he continued to live as a boy in an all male world. And while the time he spent in the Harem learning to behave as a female had been instructive, lessons learned there were proving to be of little practical use in King Sigismund’s court, where male and female courtiers freely mingled.

At dinner that night Alev found herself seated at a table between a boisterous nobleman who made no secret of his intention to become better acquainted with her, and a young courtier who could not have been much older than she judging from the fine down sprouting from his chin. Hard as she tried to ignore them, neither allowed her a moment’s peace as each did their utmost to draw her out as course after course of rich, fatty foods the likes of which she had never seen before, were placed before her.

The conclusion of dinner brought no relief as the entire court rose as one and moved back into the Deputies Chamber where a small quartet played music to which men, escorting ladies of their choice, stepped out into the center of the room and took to dancing. An invitation by the young Pole who had been to Alev’s left during dinner was easily parried, for he came across as being just as unsure of himself as she was. The older noble was a different story altogether.

Cocksure of himself to the point of being insufferably arrogant, he refused to believe Alev did not know how to dance. “You cannot tell me they do not dance in Italy. The Queen, whose upbringing cannot be all that different than yours, is quite proficient when paired with a suitable partner.”

“The Queen is familiar with the dances members of this court enjoy,” Alev countered.

“I expect she wasn’t when she came to Kraków. Such things must be learned, and who better to teach them than a Pole who is as masterful on the dance floor as he is in the saddle,” the loutish nobleman proclaimed even as he was attempting to pry Alev’s hand away from her side.

The sudden appearance of a young woman with fair hair interrupted the nobleman’s efforts to drag Alev out into the swirling crowd of dancing men and women. “Ah, I have been hope to have a chance to speak with you,” the woman beamed.

Releasing the grip he had had on Alev’s hand, the nobleman bowed. “Your highness.”

The fair-haired girl briefly acknowledged the nobleman’s salutation, but otherwise paid no attention to him as she snaked her arm through Alev’s. “I am Catherine, daughter of King Sigismund and Queen Bona.”

“And I am…”

“I know very well who you are,” Katherine replied before Alev could finish. “I have been looking forward to hearing all about Italy, a place I dream of but, if the Queen has her way, I will never see.”

Despite having no idea what she would be able to tell the young princess about a land she had not seen in years, Alev was quite happy to be led away by her. There would come a time when she would have to deal with someone like the loutish nobleman if she hoped to maintain a pretense that was fast becoming reality. But not tonight.

Historical Notes;

The House of Este is a European princely dynasty. It is split into two branches; the elder is known as the House of Welf-Este or House of Welf (Guelf or Guelph), and the younger is known as the House of Fulc-Este or later simply as the House of Este. The elder branch of the House of Este included the dukes of Brunswick and Luneburg (1208–1918) and produced Britain's Hanoverian monarchs and one Emperor of Russia, Ivan VI. The younger branch of the House of Este included rulers of Ferra (1240–1597), and Modena and Reggio (1288–1796).

Bona Sforza was born into the powerful and wealthy Italian Sforza dynasty who had ruled Milan since 1447. Although her father belonged to the authority of the Duchy of Milan, he was ousted by his uncle Ludovico Sforza, known to history as "Il Moro". He exercised power on behalf of the young prince, until his death in 1494 at the castle in Pavia. Shortly afterwards, the Princess Isabella, together with her daughters, went to Bari. To regain political significance and their former possessions, Isabella had to find a husband for Bona (her surviving daughter). Her first attempts were unsuccessful due to the unfavourable political situation at the time but due to the support of the House of Habsburg she succeeded in marrying Bona to the widowed Polish King Sigismund I the Old. The marriage ceremonies and Bona's coronation were held in Krakow on 18 April 1518.

In her youth, Bona obtained a good education. Her teacher was Crisostomo Colonna, a member of the Academy of Pont, who supervised her education along with Antonio Galateo. She received instruction in history, law, administration and theology. She was thrifty, economical, and she also had the ability to influence people. She demonstrated this skill in all her activities.

Almost from the beginning of her life in Poland, Queen Bona tried to gain a strong political position. She began to form her own cabal and also benefited from the support of the king. She also supported by Piotr Kmita Sobieński, Andrew Ladislaus and Piotr Gamrat, taking them to her offices and creating the so-called Triumvirate. She managed to also get Pope Leo X to decide on the appointment of fifteen ecclesiastical benefice of very high importance.

Bona came out of the belief that one of the most important things needed for the effective implementation of policies and plans for strengthening royal authority is access to appropriate high finance. Therefore she set herself the objective of magnification and the assembly domain of dynastic wealth as much as possible, which would give the Jagiello family financial independence. The family gained numerous estates in Lithuania, and finally in 1536-1546 they took over the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. This generated huge profits.

In 1527, as a result of a fall from a horse, the queen gave birth prematurely to her second son Albert, who died at birth. After this event, the Queen could not have any more children. Bona, wanting to ensure the continuity of the Jagiellonian dynasty on the Polish throne, decided to make the nobles and magnates to recognise her only son, the minor Sigismund Augustus as heir to the throne. First, the Lithuanian nobles gave him the ducal throne (ca. 1527-1528). Then, in 1529 he was crowned Sigismund II Augustus. This led to huge opposition from Polish lords, which led to the adoption of the bill that the next coronation would take place after the death of Sigismund Augustus, and that it would do so with the consent of all the noble brothers.

From the outset, Bona was wary of the growing power of the Radziwiłł family and was later accused of poisoning her daughter-in-law Barbara Radziwiłł.

In foreign policy, she was a fierce opponent of the Habsburgs and a supporter of a closer alliance with France. In Hungary during the wars that took place after the Battle of Mohacs in 1526, supported by János Szapolyai against the Habsburgs. Bona also sought to maintain good relations with Sublime Porte and contacts with Roxelana, the most important wife of Suleyman the Magnificent. Bona was also a spokesperson for connecting Silesia to the Crown in return for her hereditary principality Bari and Rosano, but Sigismund the Old did not support the idea and the whole project collapsed. Bona managed to also carry out tax reforms in Lithuania and agricultural products (including uniform duties of the peasants and a unit of area measurements).

In 1539 Bona Sforza had presided, reluctantly, over the burning of 80-year old Katarzyna Weiglowa for heresy, but this event ushered in an era of tolerance, and her confessor Francesco Lismanino assisted in the establishment of a Calvinist Academy in Pińczów.

In 1544, Sigismund II Augustus was given independent authority in Lithuania, and he moved there. It was the cause of a significant weakening of power in the queen, who did not want his departure. The pair had originally entered into a conflict over her son's marriage to Barbara Radziwiłł.

On the 1 April 1548, Sigismund I the Old died, leaving Bona a widow. Their son succeeded him. After the death of the King, Bona moved to Masovia and stayed there for eight years. Then she moved back to her native Bari.