They were lead through the gleaming marble halls, past guards, servants, columns veneered with lapis lazuli, bubbling fountains and rare exotic birds on ivory perches. Eventually they stopped before two massive doors guarded by fierce looking men with scimitars.
One of the Favorites nodded her head and each of the guards took hold of an enormous bronze ring and pulled the doors open. There they were welcomed into the women's quarters ... the harem.
The sights they had seen during their brief sojourn through the palace were repeated here. Two sides of the women's quarters were open to catch the cool evening breezes. Balconies were luxuriously appointed with divans and silk pillows to lounge on. In the center was a large pool wherein floated lotus blossoms and several naked women bathed as they giggled and talked.
The Favorites now turned to face the Hopefuls. "As you can see, we are happy here with our lives in service to the Sultan. You now represent the fairest of the flowers in our Province. Of the twenty before me now, only four will join us here in the women's quarters. The remaining sixteen will be offered various positions in other harems, perhaps marriage to a minor noble or pasha, or they can choose to return to their families with no dishonor.
Our Sultan is generous and kind. You will not be beaten or raped. You will enter his service of your own free will. At any time during your training, any of you are free to go ... in fact, we are all free to go", she gestured around the room with her right hand, "we are not slaves here, but family. Your training will range from the basic to the unorthodox. The four will be chosen on the basis of virtue, intellect, congeniality, and learning capacity.
You will be instructed in the finer points of erotic arts, history, math, science and music. When you have reached the completion of your training, each of the four will be a suitable companion for our Sultan.
Now, unless you have any questions, one of the Favorites will show two of you to private rooms."
The Favorites led each pair of the Hopefuls to private rooms where they would retire for the night and begin their training on the morrow. Each of their rooms were appointed with intricate murals on the walls, some depicting legends, others were of gardens or some were of scenic vistas. There were beds on either side of the room with a hammered brass tray on a tripod in the middle of the room. There sat fruit and wine. Another table against the far wall accommodated a pitcher of water, a bowl, linen clothes, and a mirror.
Unknown to the Hopefuls, their evaluations had already begun, because they were watched from that moment on throughout their training. Every time they were in their rooms, a Favorite sat behind the wall and observed their manner, their dispositions and eavesdropped on their conversations. Thusly, in a very short time, five of the Hopefuls were released from training.
Now there were fifteen left. The lessons were presented in the women's quarters by the astrologer and the physician. Special teachers were brought in to teach music and dance. And soon, the fifteen Hopefuls were reduced to ten.
During these days, the Sultan never came to the women's quarters, but received daily reports on the progress of each Hopeful.
The second week began with the Favorites calling the Hopefuls together. "Your lessons in music, science, and all the other disciplines will con tinue, but now we enter the phase where you will be taught the graces of erotic pleasures. Again we offer, should any of you not care to continue, please feel free to leave us with no dishonor." Needless to say, none of the Hopefuls were going to give up when the prize was nearly at hand.
They looked around at each other knowing full well that six of them would no longer be in the midst of the women's quarters by the time the training was completed. Some smiled at each other, some were sober, and all fretted about their future. Would they be sensual and smart enough? Would the be beautiful and graceful enough? What else would be expected of them?
They didn't have long to wait. The next morning one Favorite chose one Hopeful as their private charge. The Favorite would now become mentor, teacher and guide for her Hopefuls through the rest of the training.
As they walked hand in hand down a long corridor, each pair turned into an adjacent doorway taking them to their next class room.
Each of the Hopefuls went through the same lessons, although in different order, so that each could be judged on individual merit. In one room, the Hopeful was ordered to disrobe. Having only the Favorite in the room with her, very few hesitated. The Favorite would then examine the Hopeful. Was she smooth and unmarred? Turned first this way and then that, were her legs long and graceful ... was her muscle tone appropriate?
The Favorite sat on a stool and ordered the Hopeful to sit on the floor in front of her cross legged. Some did hesitate at this knowing full well that sitting so would fully expose them. But, they did do so. The Favorite then spoke, "It is not whether you are full bosomed, or slightly built. It matters not whether your waist is small, your mound is full and your hips plentiful, or your lips there", she pointed between the Hopeful's legs, "as red as a pomegranate. It does matter that you learn your body, the things that please your body, and the pleasures your body can give.
It is the confidence of that ability which makes you desirable to men. The confidence lays about you as a musk and a man can smell it and it excites him. Your enthusiasm will shine in your eyes and men will mirror this vivacity. So your first lesson is to learn about your body."
"Your hair," the Favorite continued, "is already shiny and luxurious. We will teach you the potions to mix to insure it stays as shiny as moonbeams and dark when other women your age begin to see silver sneaking in. Your eyes are the mirror to your soul. A man can look in your eyes and read love, anger, passion, and apathy. No matter how skilled you become at the erotic arts, if a man sees apathy in your eyes, you will no longer interest him. That, perhaps, is why men so rarely fall in love with courtesans ... they apathetically travel from one man to another.
Your lips should be scrupulously cared for. They are the center of your face. They smile, they kiss, and they can impart a pleasure you will learn about in a later lesson.