Precious Persian carpets and thick velvet curtains adorn the Sultana’s private apartments. It is bright inside and gently warm from a thousand flickering candles on the chandeliers. Virginal, delightful Nigar is riddled by great anxiety. Her hands are cold as ice, and her heart thumps ominously. The jewels and the precious metals of the room’s decorations give her no solace. The door opens slowly.
She gasps and falls to the ground prostrate. Sultan Bayezid, the Emperor ofall the Ottomans,enters and towers over her. He is the son and successor of Mehmed II, the Conqueor of Constantinople. Nigar peeks discreetly up towards him. His expression is serious,almost fearsome, as he looks her over . She is devastated, and doesn’t know what she should do. She touches the hem of the Sultan’s kaftan with her lily-white forehead, to mask her agitation, to appeal for his mercy.
She needn’t have worried so. The Sultan is enchanted. He is staring at her as if she were a fine painting, a perfect flower. He bends to her and holding her hands he helps her up. He seems lost in her youthful face. He murmurs: “ You are so beautiful! You are silk and you are golden. You are indeed Nigar, my tenderly sculpted beloved.”
The year 1483. The moon is rising lazily towards the clouds up above. By the time it could hide behind them Nigar Hatun would already be pregnant with Crown Prince Korkut and the Ottoman throne would be assured of its dynasty.