The long winter months Alev spent in Kraków as a guest of Bona Sforza had been put to good use, shedding the last vestiges of the East whilst becoming accustomed to the manner Western women behaved, both in public and when custom dictated the women withdraw to their own secluded world. This aspect of her acculturation was not all that difficult, for while there were differences, particularly in the way female members of the Polish Court looked after their personal hygiene, having lived in a harem, Alev was well acquainted with the way women behaved when off on their own. Even the nature of their chatter, gossip, and cattiness was accustomed to. It was when there was the need to mingle with men that Alev found herself to be very much a fish out of water. Not only did she have to learn how to comport herself at such times, she needed to overcome the uneasiness she felt whenever a man expressed an interest in her, for she was haunted by memories of the way Brother Dominic had used her.

Odd as it seemed to Alev at first, it was her habit of pulling back whenever approached by a man in a social setting that emboldened them to persist in pressing their interests in her, for they saw her skittishness as comportment befitting a shy, modest young lady who was, as yet, unacquainted with the ways of the world. At first Katherine thought Alev was putting on an act in order to entice the men at court. When she complimented Alev on her performance one night after successfully evading a particularly noisome courtier who had pursued her with all the tenacity of a dog sniffing out a bitch in heat, she quickly disabused the Queen’s daughter of that notion. “I can assure you, it is no act.”

Realizing the young newcomer to court was as innocent as she appeared when it came to the interplay between men and women, Katherine could not help but draw back. “One would think you were raised in a convent by nuns.”

“Yes, that is so,” Alev blurted without hesitation, for both the monastery where she had spent the first ten years of her life and the harem she had only recently left had much in common with what she knew of Christian convents.

A pang of sympathy caused Katherine to reach out and place a gentle hand upon Alev’s forearm in much the same way Haseki Hürrem had often done in order to draw her out of the dark place she tended to retreat to when the shadows of the past fell across her mind. This simple act, and the need to latch onto someone who could help her master the intricacies of Western culture led to a friendship Alev repaid during her journey along the Amber Road to Venice by honoring Bona Sforza’s request and ordering the murder of a boy Katherine professed to be in love with.

As useful as the advice Katherine shared with her was, the most important lessons Alev took away from the time she spent as a guest of the Polish Queen came from watching how that woman was able to assert herself, pursuing her goals in a male dominated world while creating the illusion of adhering to the strictures of Western culture. It was a balancing act that required Alev to always be on her guard, conscious at all times of the consequences that would befall her if someone pierced the cloak of secrecy she had rapped herself in by straying too far from what was acceptable behavior for a woman, or by entering into a relationship that would either lead to her downfall or encourage a male courtier to cast aside the veneer of civility and seek to take her as Brother Dominic had. Either would be fatal and, at least in the short term, brutally painful.

Hand in hand with this need for vigilance was the requirement to assume a series of guises that would allow Alev to move freely among the people who were privy to the secrets and plans of the nation states arrayed against the Ottoman Empire. With commerce between east and west growing despite wars the various powers engaged in came an ever increasing flow and access to information, news, ideas, and rumors merchants and sailors took in and exchanged as they plied their trade. This made it critical that the adopt guises Alev assumed were credible, difficult to verify, and just as important, allowed her to freely and frequently associate with the people who were the custodians of the secrets and information Haseki Hürrem sought.

In Kraków Alev had passed herself off as Alessandra d’Este, a niece of Bona Sforza. The readiness with which the Queen had embraced Alev upon her arrival stifled the curiosity of courtiers and guardians of the state alike. Unfortunately, as successful as that guise had been, it could not be used in Italy where Ercole II d'Este was the Duke of Ferrara, a land that shared a border with the Republic of Venice. It was therefor necessary for Alev to once more shed one persona and assume yet another. Her journey south, along the Amber Road provided her with the time and opportunity with which to cast off that name in the same way she had set aside her Turkish attire before arriving in Krakow The new name she assumed and the legend that went with it was Aleksandra Sobieski, the niece of a Polish noble and the personal representative of Bona Sforza, the Queen of Poland and daughter of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, the Sixth Duke of Milan.

The first part of this transformation began just outside of Ljubljana, a Slovene city within the Holy Roman Empire. Arriving well after dark, Alev and Ceren quickly settled in an inn while Kristof paid off the Polish men-at-arms, teamsters, hostlers, and attendants who had made the journey thus far and set about replacing them with locals who neither spoke nor understood Polish, the language Alev and her immediate retainer now used. Come morning, when they set out once more, the only people who knew the young woman who went by the name Aleksandra Sobieski was not Polish was Ceren and the three Hungarian Janissaries. The same procedure was followed before entering Udine, the first major town within the borders of the Republic of Venice. There the Slovenians were replaced by Italians, none of whom spoke or understood a word of Polish.

It was in Udine, where Alev lingered while Kristof went on ahead to Venice to secure suitable lodgings that she became aware of just how little she knew about her native land or its people. This realization hit home one day as she was wandering through the city’s market place accompanied by Ceren and János, one of Alev’s ever mindful watchdog. Turning to her young Hungarian maid, Alev sighed. “I am Italian, at least my mother was. And yet these people are as foreign to me as were the soldiers who took me captive.”

“Does this sadden you?” Ceren asked cautiously.

Alev shrugged before stopping to take up an orange, hold it to her nose, and sniff it, relishing the fresh, clean tanginess of its scent. “It should,” she replied guardedly as she informed Ceren to pay for the orange with nothing more than a glance and a flick of her head. “Yet it doesn’t,” she continued in a more strident tone of voice as they moved on. It was, after all, an Italian who’d set in motion the chain of events that had turned her into a freakish curiosity others sought to use in their quest for power, prestige, and personal gain.

“Surely returning must bring some happiness.”

“Why surely?” Alev asked sharply as painful memories darkened her expression.

“I did not tell you this before, for fear you might punish me, but while we were passing through Hungarian lands, a day did not pass that the thought of slipping away and return to my people did not cross my mind.”

Having expected to lose at least one member of her entourage to this temptation, Alev asked what had stopped her.

Before answering, Ceren took a quick glance over her shoulder. A small smile brightened her face when János met her gaze and returned her smile. “I…well…”

It was not her otherwise talkative attendant’s words, but rather the tone of the girl’s voice, the longing look in her eyes, and the way a man who was both guardian and guarantor of Alev’s fidelity to the Haseki Hürrem Sultan met her gaze that provided her with the answer. It all reminded Alev of the way Katherine behaved whenever she and the young Polish boy she had been infatuated with saw each other. That Ceren’s infatuation with János had escaped her notice until it had been brought to her attention in this way was not near as troubling as the fact that it had, warning Alev once more the roles she would need to assume required more than simply dressing and acting the part. There were aspects of being a woman that were still very much a mystery to her, strange and uniquely feminine ways women went about their affairs and viewed the world around them she was not at all sure she would ever be able to master, even is she wished to.

As capable as Kristof had proven to be as the leader of Alev’s small entourage, it was his abilities as an organizer and expediter that Alev came to appreciate and respect. This was especially true when it finally came time to bring their journey to a close by entering Venice. At Aquileia on the River Natiso he once more replaced the men he had hired to oversee the handing of the amber and baggage after it had been loaded onto a galley. “Venice is a city wed to the sea,” he explained when Alev asked why he was going through the trouble of hiring on a ship instead of simply continuing on overland. “To sneak up on the city overland through the marshes and swamps that surround it would be seen as an insult to that mistress by those you wish to charm and beguile.”

The logic was sound, something Alev could not deny. It was the way the Hungarian Janissary had chosen to make his point that troubled Alev. The Haseki Hürrem Sultan, Bona Sforza, and even young Katherine were able to use their feminine wiles to entice and cajole, secure in the knowledge that even if they misjudged, they could pay the price with little more than a blemish to their honor and a wounded pride. An error such as that would cost Alev, as well as the members of her small entourage whom she was now responsible for, their lives.

With that thought foremost on her mind, Alev redoubled her vigilance as the galley carrying them slowly picked its way through the congestion of the Grand Canal, for the red sails of the galley and the Polish flag Kristof had insisted on hoisting drew a fair amount of attention. Yet despite a need to be on her guard, Alev could not help but be seduced by the riotous cacophony of sights and sounds that bombarded her from every side. No matter where she looked, there was a flurry of activities as ships little different than hers moored to quays fronting palatial homes crawled with sailors and dockhands, loading, unloading, or preparing to make their way back to the open sea and distant ports of call.

Towering above this frenzy were stately buildings lining both sides of the canal, structures that were as functional as they were elegant. Each was a study in contrast. The ground floor, dedicated to commerce, belonged to the master of the house where he oversaw teams of workers. The upper floors were realms populated and governed by the women of their household, some of whom could be seen watching the comings and goings on the canal from the balconies overlooking the canal or chatting among themselves as women in the Harem did when there was nothing else to busy them.

That the galley conveying Alev, her entourage, and the cargo she would use to buy her way into the circles she needed to gain access to was the topic of many of whispered conversations was obvious as Alev took note of women emerging from the darkened interiors of their homes to watch as her galley picked its way through the congested canal. Naturally she was at the center of this attention, just as Kristof had intended. How could it have been otherwise, Alev reasoned as she stood at the forefront of the galley with her hands resting on the gunnel and her face set in an expression of calm indifference. Her flaming red hair would have been enough to draw the attention of all her saw her. But it was the gown Ceren had dressed her in that morning, a rich green ensemble of satin, velvet, and silk that fluttered in the light breeze their forward progress created in the otherwise stifling confines of the canal that caught the eyes of all who saw her. Kristof had been right, she concluded as a man of some importance, judging by his attire and portly stature, looked away from a group of laborers he had been addressing and took to watching her as the galley continued along.

“We’re here,” Kristof declare, catching Alev by surprise. She had just enough time to look away from the man she had been watching and tighten her grip on the gunnel before the galley gently bumped up against the mooring posts set in front of a stately palace.

“To whom does this home belong?” Alev asked as she gazed up at the ornate façade of white.

“It is yours, mistress.”

Bona Sforza had told her she would see to it Alev would have suitable lodgings. That she had more than delivered on her promise brought a smile to Alev’s face. It was a gift that would serve as a daily reminder of just how eager she was to curry favor with Haseki Hürrem Sultan and, through her, the Sultan. It was all a deliciously Machiavellian stratagem, Alev reasoned, for Bona Sforza was confident she would make mention of the extremes with which the Polish Queen had gone to see to it she had fulfilled her end of the agreement she had struck with Haseki Hürrem.

Turning to Kristof, she proffered her hand, which he took as she stepped up and across a gap between the galley and the quay. “Well, let us see what awaits us inside.”

With Kristof left on the quay overseeing the transfer of the galley’s cargo into the ground floor warehouse and Ceren scurrying about, inspecting her mistress’ quarters and making it known to the Italian household staff she, and not the matronly Italian woman who had introduced herself as the housekeeper, was in charge, Alev was free to wander out into the small but well tended courtyard garden. Alone for the first time that day, and free to let down her guard, she took a seat on a stone bench, closed her eyes, and did nothing but breathe.

The sweet fragrant of the flowers and fauna about her, and a stillness disturbed only by muted voices of servants drifting through open windows and doors allowed Alev to forget the pungent odors and riotous chorus of sounds that had assaulted her senses while traversing the Grand Canal. Many trials lay ahead, challenges that would require her to combined audacity with prudence. In the months and years ahead she would need to be on her guard, ever mindful of the role she had been cast in was one she had not been born to, one she was not at all sure she would be able to master in the same graceful manner women such as Bona Sforza and Haseki Hürrem were able to. They, after all, had learned how to advancing their personal agendas while publically remaining safely within the bounds of propriety from birth. Her education had been intense, brief and, Alev feared, incomplete, a fact that tended to blindside her with an annoying frequency.

Whether she would be able to fill in those gaps or pass over them as gracefully as she had quayside was a question that could wait. At the moment she wished to enjoy the quiet solitude and serenity of the courtyard’s small but well tended garden and something she had never known, something that would make the trials she would need to meet head on and master well worth the risks she would need to run; freedom. Here, in Venice, when not pursuing the goals set before her by her mistress, she would have the freedom to pursue her interest in the arts, philosophy, and, above all else, be the master of her own fate. Though she would need to do so in a manner that bore no resemblance to the way she had thought she would when she had been a wide-eyed child of ten, she had learned from women who had dreamed as she had then that freedom comes at a price, a price she was willing to pay.

An FYI; Alev learned the trick of frequently changing the porters belonging to her caravan to protect her identity from the Dread Pirate Roberts.