A Love for All Time (68 page)

The door to her salon opened, and her great-granddaughter Rachael, a pretty maiden of fourteen entered the room. “Great-grandmother Esther,” she said in her soft voice, “it is almost sunset, and time for you to light our candles. The family is waiting.”

“Help me up, child. I must not be late and offend the Lord for I shall need his help in a small matter soon.”

“Does it have to do with that beautiful gentleman who just left you?” asked Rachael aiding her great-grandmother to arise.

Esther Kira chuckled. “You must not ask me such questions, child, nor must you ever admit to having such sharp eyes. Keep your own counsel, Rachael. How many times have I told you that?”

“But if I do not ask questions, great-grandmother, then how am I to learn?” Rachael countered.

“There are questions, and there are questions,” said Esther Kira. “Come now, child. The sunset is upon us!” and she hurried from the room with a surprisingly agile gait for one so old.

“Sunset,” said Rachael, “and soon some lucky maiden will go to the sultan. If she is wise her fortune will be made, and if she is foolish she will be relegated to the old palace where the forgotten women live. If it were me I should be a wise virgin.”

Esther Kira stopped, and turning looked at her great-granddaughter. “God forbid that it should be you, dear child!”

“But to become a kadin would be so fortunate!”

“Fortunate!” said the agha kislar. “You are the most fortunate of women, Marjallah.” Then he handed her a small parcel that was wrapped in a square of cloth of gold, and bound with a rope of pink pearls. “These are the garments that are worn by a woman being presented to his majesty for the very first time. You are to dress now, and then I shall escort you to the sultan myself.”

Aidan stared down at the little package in silent rebellion. She knew that she had to open it, and yet she had no curiosity as to what was within. It could not be a great deal, she thought. About her Jinji, Marta, and the girls watched her eagerly. With a deep sigh she undid the pearl tie, and unwrapped the cloth. Within were the traditional blue and silver garments worn by a woman attending her royal lord and master for the first time. She barely glanced at them, handing them to Marta.

“Usually,” said Ilban Bey quietly, “that package is tied with a gilt ribbon. You have not even been in the sultan’s bed yet, and he sends you gifts, Marjallah. How foolish you would be to scorn his attentions.”

“I do not want those attentions,” she said bluntly, and around her the others gasped.

Ilban Bey’s eyes narrowed. “You do not appear to me to be mad, Marjallah. Perhaps it is your grief that affects you. Your conduct to date has been very good, and I do not believe you stupid as so many women are. You have a wonderful life ahead of you. The sultan is already enamored of you, and both his mother and his favorite offer you their friendship. You need make only the slightest effort to make our lord Murad happy, and your fortune will be made.”

Aidan did not answer him. She knew that whatever she said would be ignored for these people were dedicated to giving the sultan whatever he desired. It was their very reason for being. Her only hope was in an appeal to Murad. If he was truly enamored of her then perhaps he would grant her the right to go home to England.

“Prepare your mistress!” snapped Ilban Bey seeing that she had no intention of defending herself. He wanted to believe that she was considering his wise words, and would acquiesce to their plans for her.

The light silk robe that Aidan was wearing was removed and she stood nude before them. Iris and Fern presented their mother with a silver ewer that had been perfumed with oil of freesia, a heady fragrance distilled from the flower of the same name. Using a large sea sponge Marta squeezed the exotic-smelling water through it, and then sponged her mistress lavishly over her entire body. Aidan then scrubbed her teeth with a paste made from a mixture of pumice and mint leaves, rinsing her mouth with water flavored with mint. Next she was perfumed at all her pulse points with freesia scent.

Ilban Bey scrutinized her carefully, and then nodded to Jinji who quickly dressed his mistress in her garments of midnight-blue trousers of a sheer silk gauze, and a tiny sleeveless short jacket of blue and cloth of silver stripes edged in silver fringe. The rope of pink pearls was then added, but she was allowed no other jewelry this night lest it spoil the sultan’s enjoyment of her body. Jinji then seated his mistress, and brushed out her luxuriant copper-colored hair with a brush that had been first dipped in oil of freesia. Then kneeling he slipped a pair of silver slippers upon her feet, and she stood up for their final inspection.

Ilban Bey nodded. “She needs no artifice,” he said. “Her color is perfect. Not even kohl could make her eyes more beautiful, and her skin is like roses and cream. She is ready.” He fixed Aidan with a stern look and held out his hand to her. “Come! The litter awaits you.”

Before following him Aidan took little silk purses from the table, and presented to her servants the traditional baksheesh that Safiye had told her would be expected of her tonight. They murmured their thanks, and wished her good fortune. Aidan almost laughed aloud at that. The only good fortune she could have would be if Murad would allow her to go in peace.

In the hallway outside of her tiny apartment a golden litter awaited to carry her down the Golden Road to the sultan’s apartments. Ilban Bey knocked discreetly at the sultan valideh’s door, and Nur-U-Banu came out with Safiye to escort the guzdeh, as a woman first chosen by the sultan was known, to the door that opened into the Golden Road. When they had reached that point Nur-U-Banu came to the side of the litter, and embraced Aidan warmly.

“My son will make you happy, Marjallah, my daughter. Trust me in this. I wish you joy!” she said feelingly.

Then Safiye embraced her friend. “I envy you this night, dear Marjallah. I wish you joy!”

Immediately she stepped away from the litter, then the bearers were whisking it through the door, and suddenly all was dim and silent. It had been on the tip of Aidan’s tongue to tell Safiye that if she truly envied her friend this night, her friend would exchange places with her, but she knew how rude and unkind that would have sounded. She was not after all angry with Safiye. At the end of the hallway the bearers stopped before the door of the sultan’s rooms, and carefully placed the litter down. Immediately Ilban Bey was by her side helping her out, and the guards were opening the doors to the room.

The agha kislar escorted Aidan through a salon, and into the sultan’s bedroom where he suddenly stopped and bowed low, hissing softly at Aidan as he did so. “On your knees, Marjallah! Do not forget your manners!”

Again rebellion rose up in her breast, but quickly realizing that offending the sultan was not the way to gain his favor, and her desire, Aidan slipped gracefully to her knees, and bending touched her head to the floor as Safiye had taught her.

“Arise, Marjallah,” he said in his deep voice.

Ilban Bey was immediately there to help her, and by now, her eyes used to the dimness of the room which was only lit by a few lamps, she saw Murad clad in a loose white silk robe, lounging upon an enormous bed.

“Let me see her, Ilban Bey,” he ordered the agha kislar.

Ilban Bey swiftly removed Aidan’s little jacket, and before she could even protest he had loosened the narrow drawstring of her pantaloons, and was drawing them down to her ankles, where kneeling he slipped them over her feet, first removing her slippers. She was clad in naught but the strand of pink pearls.

“It is done, majesty,” said the agha arising. Then turning he left the room.

With feline grace Murad slid off the bed, and walked toward her. Even at a short distance she could see his dark eyes were blazing with desire, and she shivered. She must speak now before he became intent upon his lust for her.

“My lord, I beg leave to speak!” she said, somewhat breathlessly for his intensity was overwhelming.

The ardor in his eyes was banked to be replaced by amusement. Murad realized that he had not deceived her in his rush to put her in his bed, and for that reason alone he said, “Speak, Marjallah.” Let her get her pleading over with so he might spend the rest of the night kissing those adorable lips, teaching that beautiful mouth the various ways of pleasing him.

Aidan chose her words carefully. She suddenly knew that this man was a formidable opponent, and she would have but one chance with him. “My lord,” she began, “I am not insensible of the honor that you are doing me; and I understand as the valideh has explained to me your wish to meet your obligations since my lord husband, the prince, was under your protection. I would free you of the obligation to take me as a wife. Javid Khan, as you know, freed me, going before the kadi to do so, and signing my papers of manumission. I wish nothing more than to return to my native land, and I beg you to allow me to do so.”

“No.” The word was crisp, and hung for a long minute in the space between them.

“I am not your slave!” Aidan protested.

“But you are,” he said calmly.

“No! I am not, my lord! Prince Javid Khan made me a free woman, and as such I choose to return home. I do not want to be one of your women.”

“You say,” said the sultan mildly, “that the prince went before the kadi to free you, and even signed papers of manumission. Where are those papers, Marjallah? Show them to me. Although it will break my heart I will allow you to go from me now, and I will see you returned to your homeland. Show me the papers!”

“I do not have them,” she answered him. “It was not necessary for me to carry them with me everywhere I went. They were in my jewelry box in my apartments at the prince’s palace. I expect that they were destroyed in the fire that burnt our home to a shell.”

“Then,” said the sultan, a faint note of triumph in his voice, “you cannot prove the truth of your words, Marjallah. Without those papers you remain legally a slave. A slave sent to me by my friend, the Dey of Algiers. A slave given by me to the ambassador from the Khanate of the Crimea. A slave whose master is now deceased, and whose property therefore reverts to me. You are most certainly my slave, Marjallah.” His dark eyes slid over her naked body.

She was astounded. He knew she spoke the truth. He had been a witness to her marriage! Forgetting the disadvantage that her natural state should have been to her, Aidan drew herself up to her full height. “My lord, you know that I speak the truth.”

Allah! he thought as his eyes began to seriously consider the beauty of her form. She is beautiful! She is absolutely beautiful! Beneath his silken robe he felt his manhood take notice of her magnificent body, and begin to stir. Her breasts were wonderful. Big and full with their angrily thrusting nipples. His fingers itched to span the narrow waist at the end of the long torso; to fondle the softlooking flesh of her buttocks. “I never saw your papers of manumission, Marjallah. You cannot show them to me. Therefore as far as I am concerned they do not exist, and you, according to the law are mine to do with as I please.”

“Then you had best kill me now, my lord,” she said softly, “for I will not yield to you, I will give you nothing of myself, and I tell you truly that I prefer death to your embrace!”

Murad’s dark eyes sparkled with anticipation. It had been a long time since any woman had fought him. The languid beauties usually presented to him each Friday night for the first time ordinarily swooned and sighed with delight when he made love to them. They had been trained to accept meekly the fate life had offered them. A fate most of them considered the best in the world. This, however, was a woman who until several months ago had lived her life as a free woman.
I will not yield,
she said.
I will give you nothing,
she had threatened. The sultan threw back his head and he laughed aloud.

“You need not give, Marjallah. It is my custom to take what I desire,” and he reached out for her suddenly, catching her off her guard, drawing her into his arms to press his mouth wetly to hers.

Aidan had always been a strong girl, and as she had been quite unprepared to have the sultan capture her in his grasp, so was Murad surprised to have his prey twist from his embrace, and with perfectly pared fingernails scratch at his face above his red-gold beard.

With a howl of outrage he leapt back, touching his hand to his injured cheekbones, and seeing a faint stain of blood upon his fingertips. “Tigress !” he hissed at her. “I do not believe in destroying beauty such as yours. I will, however, tame you, and in time you will purr like a kitten beneath my touch.”

“No, my lord,” Aidan said grimly, “I will not! I will kill myself first. I am not like all those soft beauties that populate your harem. I descend from a race of warriors, and I do not fear death!”

He looked at her admiringly for a moment, and then with a faint smile upon his lips he said, “Bind her!” and from a darkened corner of the room two eunuchs of massive proportions stepped forward, and laid hold of her. Aidan did not capitulate easily. Her naked white body twisted and swiveled against the strong grasp of the two black eunuchs who nonetheless forced their captive over to the enormous bed, and then lifted her squirming onto it. First her arms were bound at the wrists to the pillars at the head of the bed, and then her legs were pulled apart, and bound at the ankles to the pillars at the foot of the bed. Their duty done the two eunuchs disappeared back into the shadows of the sultan’s bedchamber.

Aidan could not believe what had just happened. No one had ever treated her in such a fashion, even the pirate, Rashid al Mansur, who had brought her to Algiers. Struggling, she tested her bonds, but the strong silk ropes held firm without cutting into her skin. Color flamed into her face as she realized that she was now spread open to his gaze, and helpless to whatever he wished to do. Her heart beginning to pound with fright she looked for him.