A Memory of Love (32 page)

“Tell me the tale of your song, my minstrel friend,” the caliph said.

“It is a story about a widowed mother whose only son goes off to war. She fears for him in the ensuing months as she hears nought of him. Finally, when she has just about given up hope, her son returns, my lord. He promises never to leave her again. It is a simple tale, you understand. Now, however, I shall sing to you a song that is currently quite popular in Damascus. But would you first tell me who the lady was who sang with me?” He bowed again.

“My second wife,” the caliph answered. “She is a student of languages.”

Rhonwyn could scarcely conceal her excitement, but she did.
Glynn!
Her little brother. How had he come to this place? It was a miracle, and now she needed another miracle.

For the next few days she considered her course of action, but finally had to admit to herself that only the chief eunuch, Baba Haroun, could help her.
But would he?
The tall black man held the power of life and death within the harem walls. Even Rashid al Ahmet did not have such total control as did his chief eunuch. Rhonwyn sent her serving woman Sadirah to request an audience with Baba Haroun. Sadirah returned, saying the eunuch would expect the lady Noor in his chambers within the hour.

“Why do you wish to speak to
him
?” Nilak probed none too subtly.

“The caliph wishes me to have his child, as you know, but I have been reluctant, as I would have no child of mine in competition with Prince Mohammed. I love his mother too well. Still, even the lady Alia wants me to become a mother. The three of us spoke on this several days ago. I promised Baba Haroun that I should talk with him on it further. After all, does he not have the best interests of the caliph at heart?”

“If you had a son, there is no guarantee that Prince Mohammed would be the next caliph of Cinnebar,” Nilak said craftily.

“That is just the kind of thing I fear,” Rhonwyn scolded the older woman. “Prince Mohammed is his fa-ther's heir. He must remain so for the safety and best interests of Cinnebar, Nilak. Now, I must go and see Baba Haroun.” She hurried from her apartments.

The chief eunuch sat awaiting her, drawing upon his water pipe. He was alone. “Sit, Noor.” He gestured to a pile of colorful cushions across the tiled table. “How may I be of service to you? It must be something very serious, for you have never before sought me out.” His fine dark eyes viewed her curiously.

“Though I should never say this aloud to anyone else, Baba Haroun, I believe you always put your mistress's best interests above all—” She paused a moment, then continued.
“—even the caliph.”

He nodded silently, a small smile upon his lips. “Go on,” he said, so low she could scarcely hear him.

“I do not want to give the caliph a child. I do not believe you want me to, yet how long may we continue to deceive my lord Rashid or the lady Alia? And if I am forced to have a child and it is a son, why, even my serving woman Nilak suggests that such a child could supplant Prince Mohammed in both his father's heart and the succession. It would seem I am about to become a great difficulty. But what if I could solve this conundrum before it becomes a problem?”

“How?”
he asked her, rather intrigued by her astute grasp of the situation.

“If I were no longer here, the matter of another son would no longer be an issue, would it?” Rhonwyn said softly.

“You are suggesting that I allow you to escape from Cinnebar,” the chief eunuch said. It was not a question.

“Yes,” she replied quietly.

“And just how could such a thing be accomplished without the caliph's knowledge or my destruction, Noor?” Baba Haroun asked wryly.

“First you must swear to me that you will not kill him,” Rhonwyn said. “If I thought I was responsible for his death, I could not live myself.”

“Who?”
the chief eunuch demanded, suddenly very interested.

“My younger brother,” Rhonwyn told him.

“But how …” Baba Haroun began.

“First your promise. You are a man of your word, I know, Baba Haroun. Give me your promise, and I will explain,” Rhonwyn told him.

The chief eunuch considered a long moment, then he said, “You have my promise, Noor. I shall not kill your brother. Now please explain to me what it is you are talking about.”

“The young minstrel who entertained in the great hall of the palace several evenings ago is my brother, Glynn ap Llywelyn. He has been seeking me. He began his entertainment by singing in our native tongue and asking if his sister were here. I answered, as you know. It was not a song he sang, but rather we communicated briefly using our native tongue and the music. He remains in Cinnebar awaiting my instructions.”

“Astounding!” Baba Haroun said, amazed. He had never in all his years heard of such a coincidence.

“If Rashid is allowed to dwell too long on this child he desires of me,” Rhonwyn said softly, “his heart will be broken doubly. That must not happen, Baba Haroun. The caliph is a good man. I do not want to harm him, but I do not love him as Alia does, and I want to go home. Surely my brother's finding me is a portent. He did not come on crusade with us. I left him at the abbey school in Shrewsbury, in England, near our home. He was but a child. Now suddenly he is a man. He has sought me out and found me. Is this not fate speaking?”

The chief eunuch nodded thoughtfully. He was a man who believed in signs and marvels. “How would you proceed, Noor,
if
I were to agree to help you?” he asked.

“The caliph will not simply release me,” Rhonwyn said, and her companion nodded again in agreement. “I must therefore appear to have died. He will mourn me, I know, but eventually he will forget me.”

“Not easily,” Baba Haroun admitted. “I know him well, and he does not give his heart lightly, but I believe I have a way to distract him from your loss. Prince Mo-hammed's two harem damsels are kept sterile, but that can be changed. If one of them should conceive and the caliph were to be able to look forward to being a grandfather, then he should have something to rejoice in rather than dwell upon his mourning. It could even be said Allah was replacing his love for you with another love. Now, because I can see you have been thinking on it, how will you die?”

“I shall accidentally fall from a cliff at the edge of my garden in the night,” Rhonwyn said. “If bones and hanks of my hair were found there, it would be assumed I fell and that the wild dogs had devoured me. The hair will assure that the caliph believes in my death, for you know how he loves my hair and its unusual color.”

“In reality, however, I shall smuggle you from the palace,” Baba Haroun said, taking up the thread of her thought. “That I can do, Noor, and easily. It must all be done in a single night. And you, my clever beauty, will be disguised as a boy. Your party will join a caravan headed for the coast, and in just a few days you will be able to seek out a vessel bound for your native land.”

“Then you will help me!” Rhonwyn said excitedly.

“I will help you,” Baba Haroun replied, “but I do so only to safeguard the happiness of my beloved mistress. She does the noble thing in saying the caliph must have his way in order to be happy. She has been raised to think of her lord first. But you, Noor, were raised to think of yourself first. I contemplated the possibility of seeing you contract some disease, sicken, and die before you might give the caliph a child. If my mistress cannot or will not protect herself and her son, then I must. It is my duty. However, I hold no malice against you. You have been respectful and loving of my lady Alia. I will, therefore, aid you, Noor.”

“Thank you, Baba Haroun,” Rhonwyn said, her heart hammering against her ribs as she spoke. That he would have stooped to her murder truly frightened her.

“Return now to your quarters, Noor. I will contact your brother, and we will make all the necessary arrangements. You will be told when the time is come. You are pale, Noor, but you need have no fear of me. You, yourself, have solved the problem we had, and I will not betray you for the love we both bear the lady Alia.” He smiled a quite kindly smile at Rhonwyn. “Go.”

She got to her feet, remembering to bow to this powerful man. Then she hurried from his quarters, not quite certain whether she should rejoice or not. She could not know until the moment came if she would really be free or if he would betray her. Living in the harem had taught her one thing, and that was that you could trust no one completely. Still, she knew she had not made an enemy of Baba Haroun. Surely he would keep his word.

“What did he say?” Nilak demanded as Rhonwyn reentered her apartments. “I will wager he is in no hurry for you to bear the caliph a child. He is loyal first to Lady Alia.” She made a disapproving face.

“Of course he is,” Rhonwyn said, “and that is as it should be. He has been with her since her childhood in her father's house. I am not certain in my own mind that I am ready to become a mother yet.”

“If you wait much longer, you shall see gray in that gilt hair of yours,” Nilak scolded, and two other serving women giggled. “You are past eighteen, my lady Noor, and not getting any younger. If our lord Rashid wants a child of you, then you must give him a child. It is your duty.”

“Be silent!” Rhonwyn suddenly snapped. “You overstep your bounds, Nilak. My entire life I have done my duty and never once shirked. If it is Allah's will that I give the caliph a child, then I shall. Now, leave me, all of you. I would be alone with my thoughts.”

The three serving women withdrew, and Rhonwyn walked out into her small garden. The little fountain with its splashing water was soothing to her, and she very much needed to calm herself after her meeting with Baba Haroun. The heady scent of the Damascus roses touched her nostrils, lulling her into a more placid frame of mind. She walked slowly down the crushed marble path to the carved stone bench that overlooked the mountains. Her vista faced west, she knew, for each evening she watched the sun set behind those forbidding dark peaks. Once, with Nilak and Halah holding on to her tightly, she had gone to the edge of her garden and peered down. There had been nothing below but rocks and a gray-green scrub growth. She had gotten dizzy, and her servants had hauled her back. Anyone falling from this height would surely be killed.

“Nilak tells me you have spoken to Baba Haroun about having a child.” Rashid al Ahmet sat down beside his second wife.

“Nilak takes much upon herself,” Rhonwyn replied, irritated.

“She but wants your happiness,” he said, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers one by one.

“I am happy,” Rhonwyn said. “She does not understand that being with you is my happiness, Rashid. Why do you want a child of me? You have children, so it cannot be your vanity, for you could satisfy that urge on any of your women whenever it pleased you.”

“I want a child of you because I love you,” he said quietly, and drawing her into his arms, he began to kiss her passionately. “
I love you, Noor!
I want our love to be complete, and only a child can give us that completion. Do you understand? Ah, yes, I believe that you do.” He kissed the tears slipping from behind her closed eyelids.

“You make me ashamed for being so selfish,” Rhonwyn said honestly. And he did, she thought sadly. He did love her, but she did not love him. Not while Edward de Beaulie still lingered in her memory.

He stroked her hair tenderly, and then his hand slipped within the opening of her kaftan, and he cupped one of her breasts in his palm. He fondled her, his thumb rubbing her nipple into a sharp point. She murmured softly, and reaching down, he drew the kaftan up and off her body, rendering her naked for his pleasure. Pulling her into his lap, he bent her backward slightly, his mouth closing over the sensitive peak. He suckled hungrily on it. Rhonwyn whimpered as her deep arousal began. He would not cease, she knew, until she had satisfied him, and he, her. Her hands reached out to caress him.

He nursed upon both her breasts until they were actually sore. Then his mouth moved across her torso, and it was as if his lips were fire upon her skin. When he kissed her hard upon her smooth Venus mons, a bolt of lightning seemed to penetrate her body, and she shuddered. His pointed tongue ran along the shadowed slash dividing her nether lips. It teased her, down and up and down again. He lay her upon the stone bench and, kneeling before her, used his two thumbs to open her to his view.

“You are like a pink shell from the sea,” he told her. “Your little jewel is perfectly formed. It but waits for my touch, my beautiful, my exquisite wife.”

The point of his tongue touched her, and Rhonwyn gasped as a sensation, more acute than any she had ever before felt, slammed into her.
“Rashid!”
She could say no more. The wonder of his passion was too intense for her. Each day it seemed to increase.

He laughed as her love juices pearled upon her coral flesh. “Can I not teach you patience, my love?” he gently scolded her. Then opening his robes, he revealed his engorged manhood and, straddling the bench, he lowered himself upon her. He thrust deep, smiling as she gasped aloud with his fierce entry. Then gathering her into his arms, he murmured as he raised them both up into a seated position. “Wrap your limbs about me, Noor, as I stand.” Then he arose and walked, carrying her into her bedchamber where he pressed her up against a wall and began to move upon her.

Rhonwyn's eyes widened with surprise, and he laughed.

“Here is something new for you,” he teased her as she clung to him, her arms tight about his neck.

“It is interesting,” she managed to say, “but I want you atop me, my lord. I want to feel your weight upon me.
Please!
”

He laughed again. “How you have changed, my precious one,” he told her, but he complied, moving to her bed and falling with her upon it.

“Yes!”
she cried out. “
Yes!
Oh, that is good, my lord! Do not cease this pleasure, I beg you!
Do not cease!
” Her legs still wrapped about him, she tightened the muscles of her love channel around his plunging lance and smiled wickedly into his eyes when he groaned. “Do I please you, my Rashid?” she demanded. Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Alia swears you liked this.” She tightened herself again.