The Mad Concubine of the Harem – Chapter 1: Mahperi's Fate
Centuries ago, life existed on these beautiful lands… Loves, wars, families, and lonely souls… In the 1600s, the young prince who ascended to the throne after the death of his father in battle, was now known as Sultan Murad.
Murad was only 24, but the weight of an empire rested on his shoulders. He was ambitious, innovative, yet he knew that once the wheels of the Ottoman palace began to turn, no one could stop them.
That day, the palace noticed the shadow on Sultan Murad's face. The news of his beloved teacher, Hüseyin Çelebi's death, had shaken him. Hüseyin Çelebi, his father's painter, a man of art and knowledge, had taught Murad not only to hold a brush but to understand the stories behind the colors.
It was unusual for a sultan to attend the funeral of someone from the common people. However, Murad intended to pay his final respects to his teacher.
Disguised, he donned simple brown robes and a plain turban. He slipped out of the palace, away from its grandeur, and walked through the dark streets until he arrived at the mosque. As the congregation prayed in hushed tones, Murad stood silently with a few tears in his eyes.
When the ceremony ended, as he passed by the mosque, he overheard a conversation that turned his sorrow into anger.
"Ahh, he was so young, a good man, may he rest in peace," said an old man, leaning on his cane.
"He was young, but his soul was dead," another man sighed. "He lost his wife when he was young. He loved her deeply."
"Yes, I know... He never left her grave."
Then, the voices shifted into something that pierced Murad's heart like a dagger.
"Don't ask… Just the other day, I saw her coming back from the cemetery. That girl… what was her name? A beauty, truly!"
"Yes, yes... She's just like her mother. As beautiful as the universe itself, but her fate is cruel."
"They say the headmaster of the madrasa wants to marry her as his second wife. They say it's to pay off her father's debts… She'll be sold to that old rooster…"
For a moment, the world fell silent.
Murad's jaw tightened. His teeth ground together in fury. The memory of his teacher, Hüseyin Çelebi, and the mention of his young daughter, Mahperi, echoed in his mind.
Mahperi...
He remembered her name. His teacher used to say, "She's as radiant as the moon, as beautiful as a fairy." She resembled her mother, he had said to Murad. Murad, as a child, had watched her run across the courtyard to her father, her hands always covered in paint, free-spirited and carefree.
To become a second wife to a man for the sake of her father's debts... Sultan Murad could not allow that.
Without a second thought, he mounted his horse. By the time he reached the palace, he flung his cloak behind him and hurried inside, calling for one of his most trusted servants.
"At your service, my Sultan," the servant said, bowing deeply.
In a calm but commanding voice, Murad gave his order:
"There's a girl… Take her to the harem today."
"Which girl, my Sultan? Where shall I find her?"
Murad squinted, his eyes far away. For a moment, he heard again the conversation at the mosque. He was about to seal the girl's fate.
"The daughter of the late Hüseyin Çelebi… Mahperi."
The servant bowed again.
That night, Mahperi's life would change forever.
The palace steward, acting on Sultan Murad's orders, quickly made his way to Hüseyin Çelebi's home. The streets were quiet, the air preparing for a cold winter. When the steward knocked on the door, a deep silence rose from within.
Finally, the door was opened by a young woman, her face partially veiled with a silk shawl. Mahperi… Her name, like her, was radiant. Her pale skin gleamed like the moon in the dark of night, her eyes shining like stars. Her slender waist and raven-black hair framed her face, but it was her gaze, full of profound sorrow… A soul that could feel alone even in a crowd.
The steward lowered his voice, asking, "Are you Mahperi Hatun?"
Mahperi gently nodded, her voice almost a whisper: "Yes, I am. How may I help you?"
The steward took a step forward. "The sultan wishes to take you to his harem."
In an instant, Mahperi's face trembled. Shock coursed through her veins like poison. Stammering, she could only ask, "Why?"
The steward's voice grew stern: "The sultan's orders are unquestionable! Prepare yourself immediately."
Mahperi felt her grief and helplessness intertwining like a knot inside her. She was alone now. With neither mother nor father, she had no choice but to accept her fate.
She gave one last look at her home. Her father's painting brushes still lay in the small room. She paused for a moment, then tied her shawl tightly around her and gently embraced her father's painting palette. Fate had once again painted its stroke on her life.
Topkapi Palace Harem...
The stone corridors of the palace were cold, but the golden gilding on the walls, the intricately crafted tiles, and the massive chandeliers in every corner dazzled the eye. Silk curtains swayed slowly with every breeze, and the air was filled with the scent of spices and roses.
As Mahperi entered, her head bowed, she felt the watchful eyes of the concubines on her. Envious, questioning gazes… Not just for the gold and silks, but for the coveted place in the sultan's bed, as the women of the harem competed fiercely in silent, violent rivalry.
The steward entrusted Mahperi to Cevher Kalfa. Cevher Kalfa was a woman in her early forties, tall and lean, with sharp eyes and a strict demeanor. But when she gazed at Mahperi, there was a fleeting glimpse of compassion.
"Hatun, you are not namahrem with me. Remove that shawl from your face," she said in a stern voice.
Mahperi, trembling, lowered her shawl. Her delicate nose, full lips, faint pink blush on her cheeks, and the stars in her eyes… She was beautiful enough to captivate the attention of every woman in the harem.
Cevher Kalfa paused for a moment in astonishment, then muttered under her breath, "My God… You're beautiful. How will I protect you from the hungry women here?"
Mahperi didn't respond, only lowered her head. She knew her beauty would become her prison in this place.
Days passed…
Since Murad had ascended to the throne, he had been consumed with state affairs. He rarely even visited his own harem, spending his nights with his viziers. The women in the palace grew impatient with his indifference. But one woman was overcome not with impatience, but with jealousy: Şayeste Hatun.
Şayeste, one of Murad's favorites, wore clothes embroidered with golden thread and even when combing her dark chestnut hair, she made sure to assert her superiority over the other women. She was a woman of sharp looks and fiery ambition. One day, upon hearing that the queen mother, Valide Sultan, had summoned Mahperi to her quarters, the fire within her only grew stronger.
Vahide Sultan's Chamber
Vahide Sultan, as the mother of the sultan, was the most powerful woman in the harem. She wore a finely embroidered veil on her head and an ornate kaftan adorned with pearls. A strong and stern woman, but behind her eyes, the weariness of the years was evident.
Mahperi, trembling in her silk dress, entered the chamber.
Vahide Sultan scanned her from head to toe and sighed. "Tell me, woman... My son himself brought you to the palace. Can you tell me why?"
Mahperi's voice trembled like a thin veil: "I do not know, my Sultan."
Vahide Sultan nodded slightly. "Your father," she said.
Mahperi's eyes widened, and sorrow quickly flooded her gaze.
"Your father was Murad's teacher. My son held great affection for him. He brought you here to protect you… To keep you safe."
She paused for a moment, then added in a low voice, "But they will not allow you to live here with that beauty, my dear. You must become the mother of a prince soon."
Mahperi's heart seemed to leap out of her chest. This palace, this harem, was nothing but a trap for her.
"My Sultan... I am a dead soul. Since my father's passing, I have no joy, no hope left. I cannot be a mother... Please, let me be your servant. Take me into your service."
Vahide Sultan responded to Mahperi's words with a look of both pity and firm resolve:
"Death is a pain, my dear. But I would wish for a woman like you, righteous and obedient, to become the mother of our princes. I will send you to Murad's chamber this week. Prepare yourself."
Inside Mahperi, a storm was raging.
The Courtyard... That Evening
As Mahperi walked through the palace courtyard, she felt a shadow behind her. Suddenly, a group of women blocked her path.
At the forefront, with eyes blazing with anger, was Şayeste Hatun.
"You've managed to sway Valide Sultan to your side, haven't you? Didn't I warn you?" Şayeste hissed.
Mahperi, startled and frightened, began to retreat. The other concubines held knives in their hands.
Şayeste smiled cruelly, "Let's leave your skin marked with cuts... Then you'll look even more beautiful."
The emptiness inside Mahperi, that dead soul… suddenly ignited. She could no longer bear living with this pain.
In a flash, she broke free from the women's grip and threw herself from the palace balcony.
Screams echoed…
Then, only darkness…