Sofia by Ann Chamberlin

Author:Ann Chamberlin [Chamberlin, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Historical, Turkey, 16th Century, Harem, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780595302789
Publisher: Forge
Published: 2014-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

XXVII

“Religious instruction” smacked much the same as it had in the convent. Prayers and scriptures memorized in Arabic were not much different from prayers and scriptures in Latin, although they presented themselves much deeper in the throat. The postures and prostrations had parallels, too. Sofia concerned herself with the meaning to the same degree.

The main difference—and benefit—she found in Islam was that in a harem, unlike the theoretically feminine world of a convent, no bishop or priest would ever come to catechize her. The religious instructress certainly took her duty just as seriously as Sister Seraphina had, but she was much more content with a mindless mimicry. Greek and Armenian girls balked at declaring God to be One and Muhammed his Prophet. They, who clung to their native beliefs with tearful fervor and cared to argue Trinity and Transubstantiation, took much more of that woman’s attention than Sofia, who held her tongue. Of course one recalcitrant girl in the whole convent declaring when pressed (and there was a lot of pressure) that it was all a waste of time did not present quite the challenge of a shipment of a dozen new girls a week from as many different lands and creeds.

Reprieve also came with the fact that, on account of her menses, Sofia was barred from the harem mosque for the whole first week of her stay, for all that it was a shrine exclusively for women to begin with. She was expected to pray on her own, which she never did unless someone was watching, not till the end of her life.

By the time she was required to take her place in the ranks of new girls, her personality, bleeding or no, had made its mark. Everyone had already forgotten that she was a novice and that all eyes should scrutinize her every move. Since prayer and recitation were always performed in groups, Sofia perfected the skill the convent had first taught her of keeping no more than one syllable or posture behind the leader. In this fashion, her dissent—if passive lack of care deserves the name—was never remarked.

But with the end of her period and the dropping of the walnut shells from her limbs of their own accord, Sofia began to feel the limits of her new station. She had impressed everyone there was to impress among the charwomen and frightened new girls who shared her quarters. Already she was their undoubted leader, even over the language barrier. The religious instruction turned quickly into reading and writing at which she studiously remained no more clever than was necessary. Here, too, nothing taxed either mind or soul. But she had yet to see the wonderful Nur Banu Kadin again. Or anyone else of more than menial or spiritual account—which meant no account at all.

Sofia grew restless.

The Italian word seraglio is actually derived from the phrase meaning a cage for wild beasts and, like a beast, Sofia began to pace the halls of the warren in which she found herself.

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