A Love for All Time (38 page)

“She is yours by right if you so choose, my lord dey,” said the kapitan reis.

“I know that,” replied the old man, “but even I have a conscience. Taking a share of a thousand seamen who have been captured in battle, and selling them does not cause me to turn one hair; but this is different. This slave is of great value, and I want her not for myself, but to send as a gift to the sultan. To send my master a gift for which I have paid nothing is to send him nothing. Therefore I would buy this woman from you for a fair market value.”

“My lord dey, I do not know what value to place upon the woman for it is not my business to price slaves. Why not call from the bagnio the chief slavemaster, and have him put a price upon the copper-haired woman. I will abide by whatever decision he makes.”

The elderly dey agreed, and sent immediately for the chief slavemaster who came quickly, his eyes lighting at the sight of the four women. He had already heard of them for he had spies who waited and watched upon the docks to inform him of the choicest captives being brought for sale.

He prostrated himself before the dey, and only when bidden to arise did he dare to speak. “How may I serve you, my lord dey?”

“Give me a fair market value on the red-haired woman,” said the dey. “I would send her to our master, Sultan Murad. Such a valuable and rare female will please him, and do Algiers honor.”

The dey’s words told the chief slavemaster that he actually did desire a fair-value price on the slavegirl for to send the sultan a woman of insignificance would be an insult. Walking over to where the four stood he pulled Aidan from the group, and looked her over with a careful and trained eye. “Is she a virgin?”

“No.”

The chief slavemaster knelt, and put his hand between Aidan’s legs. It was too much. She could bear no more of this! She twisted away, pressing her legs tightly together. The chief slavemaster said nothing. He simply signaled to two of the dey’s men-at-arms who coming over, pinioned Aidan tightly between them so that she could not struggle, and the chief slavemaster resumed his examination of her most intimate parts.

“Her body is fresh and clean, my lord,” he said matter-of-factly, and, he thrust a finger within Aidan, who at that simply swooned away. “Her passage is tight. She has not been used greatly,” he said.

The two men-at-arms held the half-fainting woman between them as the chief slavemaster continued. With expert hands he ran his fingers over her breasts, nodding with satisfaction as the nipples puckered beneath his light touch. He slid his hands over her torso, and around to feel her buttocks. His knowledgeable hands explored her legs, and her feet, and then he stood again. Aidan was conscious now, but she wished she weren’t. The slavemaster peered into her eyes, and then to her surprise pried open her mouth to view her teeth. Lastly he felt the weight and texture of her hair, and nodding satisfied said to the dey, “This is definitely a slave of the first ranking, my lord. She will be a very expensive gift for Sultan Murad, but one that he will undoubtedly gain much pleasure from, and therefore remember with kindness the giver. She is worth ten thousand pieces of gold, even without her virginity.”

The dey winced, but nodded. “Very well,” he agreed, and turned to Rashid al Mansur. “So be it, kapitan reis. I will purchase the woman from you.”

Rashid al Mansur was jubilant. Normally the dey would have deducted ten to twelve percent of the purchase price as his due, but he would not do that in this case because the copper-haired woman was to be a gift for the sultan. That percentage along with his own percentage would be his! He turned to Aidan. “You have brought me luck, copper-haired woman. The dey has just purchased you for ten thousand pieces of gold, and he is sending you as a gift to the sultan! If you are clever, your fortune is made!”

“I don’t want to be a gift to anyone!” Aidan shouted. She was suddenly very, very angry. She had been poked, and prodded, and invaded as if she were a prize heifer. “I am Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss. I am a wealthy woman of rank, and I will be no one’s slave!
No one’s!
”

“Ahh,” smiled the dey, “she has spirit. So much the better. Phlegmatic beauties can be a bore.” Then he turned to his men-at-arms. “Take her to my harem for safekeeping, and remember, she is a gift for Sultan Murad. If she tells me you have touched so much as a hair on her head it is your heads that will roll in the dust. Do you understand?”

The men-at-arms nodded. “We hear and obey,” they chorused, and then they dragged Aidan, struggling, and shrieking, from the room.

“My treasurer will see that you are paid, Rashid al Mansur. Go to him after noontime prayers.”

“Thank you, my lord dey,” said the kapitan reis, and bowing he turned to leave with his other captives.

“A moment, Rashid al Mansur.”

The sea captain stopped, and turned back to the dais. “My lord?” It was the powerful Osman, the famous astrologer, who had spoken to him.

“I am curious, Rashid al Mansur, as to where you have obtained a highborn Englishwoman. Did you capture her vessel?”

“No, my lord Osman. I am a merchant, not a man of war. I trade frequently in London, bringing the English oranges, and moroccon leather goods, sometimes cods of musk for perfume making. I return with their fine wool, and tinware, and raw tin. As you may know I began my life in Spain. My cousins are agents for the Spanish king there, and often the opportunity to obtain a blond English virgin comes my way.”

“I had heard,” remarked Osman, “that you frequently brought back fair maidens, but this woman is slightly older, and not the sort of female that I imagine you would come in contact with.”

“You are correct, my lord. This was a rare opportunity. The lady in question is indeed a noblewoman. Her husband’s family had given offense to the Spanish king, and he contrived to make it appear as if they were involved in a plot against the English queen. The lady’s cousin was involved in the plot, and planned when her husband was killed to marry the lady and thereby gain her wealth. What he did not expect was that the English queen would confiscate the lady’s wealth as part punishment for the alleged crime of her husband’s family. So this gentleman decided to sell his cousin to me to gain some of the monies he lost by the queen’s action.

“She, however, claims that her husband has not been executed, and that the English suspected a false plot, and told her to tell her cousin that she was penniless so they might catch him, and his accomplices. She is a very quick-witted female, and she is fighting hard against her fate.”

“They are always like that at first,” said the dey. “European women can be very stubborn.”

“The husband’s family must have given great offense to the Spanish king that he would bother to involve himself in so byzantine a plot,” noted Osman, the astrologer. “What was their name? Do ye know?”

“They were Irish,” said Rashid al Mansur. “I don’t think she ever mentioned their name . . . wait, this morning as we came here a captive called out that he was from London, and she called back that her husband was Conn O’Malley. That is all that I can tell ye except that her cousin’s name was FitzGerald.”

“Thank you, Rashid al Mansur,” said Osman calmly, but he felt anything but calm.
O’Malley!
Allah! Was it a coincidence, or was the woman related to his friend Skye O’Malley? What could he do to help her! He couldn’t! His friend, the dey, had just paid ten thousand pieces of gold for this woman, and she would be on her way to the sultan in Istanbul in a very short time. There was simply no way he could prevent it, but he might at least be certain of who she was. He smiled at the dey. “Will you allow me to visit the slavewoman you have purchased for the sultan, my old friend? I shall do her chart for you so you may be certain she will bring good fortune to the sultan.”

“An excellent idea, Osman! Why did I not think of it, but what if her chart is not in sympathy with his majesty? I have paid a fortune for her!” The dey’s forehead puckered with worry.

“If her stars should prove to be wrong you can always sell her for even more than you paid for her,” said Osman soothingly, “but I sincerely doubt you will have to resort to such tactics. It is very unlikely she will prove to be the wrong woman for him.”

“You are right, Osman, as you always are. Yes, yes! You may come to the palace this afternoon, and see the woman, but how will you converse with her?”

“It has been my experience that European noblewomen speak several languages other than their own, at least French, and I am as you know, quite conversant in French.”

“Your wife, of course! How is she?”

“Well, and the children also.”

“You will give my greeting to the lady Alima.”

“She will be honored, my lord.”

The two men departed the jenina, the dey returning in his litter to his palace, and Osman Bey in his litter to his home high above the city. The dey was delighted with his purchase for he knew the sultan’s capacity for beautiful women. It was said that his eunuchs were kept constantly busy scouring the slave markets of Istanbul for new and lovely women to fill his harem. This woman, the dey thought with satisfaction, was a rare creature with her red hair. It was said that his favorite, a woman named Safiye, had red hair as did the sultan himself. This slender highborn beauty with her milky skin, her gorgeous hair, and her fine breasts would catch his eye easily. The dey felt satisfaction coursing through his tired old veins. Undoubtedly the sultan would show his pleasure with his loyal servant, who knew what form that reward might take. The dey smiled to himself within the privacy of his litter. He had been generous with his master. Why should he not be as generous with himself? He would send his chief eunuch to the state bagnio to purchase the eldest of the three blonds Rashid al Mansur had for sale. It was true she would cost a fortune, but he was an old man, and how many years did he have left?

Aidan seeing Meg brought into the harem of the dey’s palace late that morning ran to her young friend, and put her arms about her. Meg was trembling violently, and she burst into tears as Aidan’s embrace tightened about her. Aidan let her cry, and when she had finally wept for some minutes her sobs gradually died, and she looked up into Aidan’s face saying, “It was awful, my lady! It was awful!”

“I know,” Aidan answered her realizing from her own experience of this morning just what the gentle girl must have gone through, “but it’s all over now, and you are safe.”

“Rashid al Mansur was almost beside himself with delight,” Meg said. “He told me that the dey himself purchased me. That I am to be the concubine of that old man! I cannot bear it!”

“It could be worse, Meg. The dey appears to be a kindly gentleman. I do not think he will hurt you, and the plain truth of the matter is that you don’t have any choice now. What if you had been sold into a brothel, Meg? But tell me, what of Rosamund and Pipere? Do you know what happened to them?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “They were purchased by the same man for the slavemaster sold them together as twins. The man who bought them is said to be one of the wealthiest men in the city, but he is a gross, fat creature with eyes like a pig. Rosamund laughed when the sale was made final. She said once she learned the ways of this place she’d have her fat master under her thumb if he wanted her under his bulk. She wasn’t one bit afraid, my lady.”

“No,” said Aidan, “she wouldn’t be. I have no doubt that she’ll do exactly what she says she’ll do.”

“What will happen to us, my lady?” Meg asked tremulously.

“Your future is settled, Meg. You belong to the dey, and you will become his mistress. Mine is not so simple. I am being sent to Istanbul to the Turkish sultan as a gift from the dey.”

“I will kill myself!” said Meg beginning to sob again.

“What would that solve?” Aidan demanded.

“At least I should not have to submit to the shame of being the dey’s kept woman!”

“That seems to be the normal thing here, Meg,” said Aidan. “This place we are in now is called a harem. It is the women’s quarters of the palace. I have already learned that the dey has two wives, and over a hundred concubines!”

“How did you learn all that?” Meg was astounded.

“I speak French,” said Aidan, “and French seems to be the universal language here whatever a lady’s native tongue. Even the eunuchs speak it. They are the men you see guarding us. They are gelded so they are considered safe to be around the dey’s women. That is another custom of the place.”

Meg was incredulous. “Gelded men! What a terrible custom! This is a frightening place. Did you see the heads in the wall niches where you enter into the palace? Some of them were still bloody, and there were flies all over them.”

“I saw them,” said Aidan quietly. “They were slaves who rebelled against their masters. They were caught and punished. That, too, is the way here. Justice, it seems, is swift.”

“I am so afraid,” said Meg.

“You don’t have to be, Meg. The women here tell me that the dey is a good master, and a kindly one. You can be very comfortable here if you will just not fight it.” Aidan was amazed with herself. What was she telling this poor child? But then what chance did poor Meg have of ever returning to England, and if she did what did she have to return to? Better she convince her to make her peace with her fate so that she could get on with her life. “The women here tell me that the dey is very generous to his ladies. They have beautiful clothing, and jewelry, the finest foods, and even a little allowance with which to purchase trinkets from the market women who come here to sell their wares.”

“I am used to living on a farm,” said Meg. “I miss my animals.”

“I am sure that if you make the dey happy he will allow you to have a cat. Many of the women do. They are considered sacred to the Prophet.”

“Will they force us to renounce our Christian faith, my lady? I could not bear to be tortured!”