Odalisque (20 page)

He felt a fierce joy at reaching a decision but his elation was interrupted by a short fanfare to herald the arrival of the Zar, looking tall and suddenly proud.

Boaz was accompanied by his mother. She was fully veiled but nevertheless dazzling in a deep blue robe. They stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the Courtyard of Sorrows. Everyone bowed to the royal couple.

And then another door opened and Ana was escorted by two burly Elim to stand in the courtyard itself. She too was fully veiled and Lazar hated that her beautiful face was covered from him.

Nevertheless the softest of smiles seemed to touch her eyes and he knew it was just for him.
His heart felt as though it was shattering into countless pieces and with that deeply despairing pain came understanding. His decision to take her place might be confusing for everyone else but not for him. It was for the oldest, most simple of reasons that drove men and women to do courageous, often ridiculously dangerous things. And that reason was love.

He loved Ana.

At this moment of realisation he felt the warmth of Iridor burning next to his leg. He placed his hand against the tiny statue and felt its comforting heat. With that warmth came a sense of peace. He had made the right decision to do this; Iridor was telling him as much. And he realised it was best he leave Ana to her new life whilst at the same time not punishing himself by remaining in Percheron. To his homeland he must return and face the consequences. He would start life anew and she would build hers amongst the halls of the harem. If Pez was right and Boaz had already had his interest triggered in this girl, then she had a future.

Salmeo’s voice broke into his thoughts as the eunuch began explaining what had occurred to create this situation. None of it needed explanation, of course, for everyone around was well aware what had transpired. This was purely protocol.

‘…and so it is with respect that we now inflict the punishment on Spur Lazar who has claimed
Right of Protectorship upon Odalisque Ana, property of Zar Boaz. The slave’s transgression is considered extremely grave and by no higher authority than the Zar himself…

‘…it is out of veneration to our Zar and to our way of life in the harem that we insist this punishment is taken seriously.’

In spite of his determination not to give anyone the slightest satisfaction, Lazar felt a stone hit the pit of his stomach. Salmeo clearly had something special in store. Lazar tore his gaze from Ana to stare at the timber that he would be tied against. He had seen many floggings, knew what to expect, grasped that Ana’s punishment would be symbolic, whereas his on her behalf would be more stringent and he understood that some days of healing would be required before he would be able to move with ease.

The post and cross-timbers that they would tie him to looked intently sinister now. It was not to be a simple lashing.

‘…It has been decided that the Spur will be given thirty lashes from the Viper’s Nest.’ A murmur buzzed across the balcony as Boaz turned to his mother, presumably to share his concern. She whispered something but it was hardly a long enough conversation to resemble anything close to a discussion. Poor Boaz—he was in for a harsh lesson this afternoon.

Lazar glanced towards Jumo and saw the fear written across his friend’s face. How he wished he
could spare his companion this trial. As for himself, there was no escape and Lazar had always been of a philosophical nature when up against any sort of foe. You either win or you die trying, was his favourite mantra. He intended to win, although, recalling the Viper’s Nest, he knew it was the most vicious of weapons against skin and quite capable of killing.

He looked at Pez whose face had drained of colour. The dwarf also knew what this meant and without further ado was skipping around the courtyard, apparently accidentally treading on the toes of the silent Vizier before careering through the door and away from the Courtyard of Sorrows.

Lazar knew that wherever he was headed, Pez was already putting things in place to help when the flogging was done.

‘Let us proceed,’ Salmeo said.

Before any move could be made, Ana, no doubt gathering that the Viper’s Nest was no simple whip, began to struggle and cry. ‘No, this is my punishment,’ she wept.

‘Hush the girl!’ Salmeo ordered

‘I demand to take my own punishment!’ she yelled now, looking directly at the Zar. ‘Your Majesty, overturn this, I beg you.’

Boaz stepped forwards and placed his hands on the balcony’s stone railing. Everyone fell silent. Salmeo closed his eyes beseeching Zarab that the Zar would not acquiesce to the girl’s plea. They
saw the Valide lean slightly towards the boy—no doubt she had whispered something to him from behind that veil, for Tariq noticed how the Zar’s body tensed. There was anger there. They would not have him under their collective thumb for very much longer if they all did not give him more credit. They would need to occupy the new Zar, shower him with diversions, pander to his whims and free him from all responsibility if they were going to take over complete control of Percheron.

Boaz took a calming breath. ‘Odalisque Ana,’ he called into the courtyard. ‘You have visited this despair upon yourself by your flouting of the harem’s strictest law—the law of discipline. Did you know that this crime could be punishable by death?’

She shook her head, dumbfounded.

‘It is I who will not permit such a thing. It is I who have also permitted that your brave protector, our own revered Spur of Percheron, might take a commuted sentence on your behalf. Please do not beseech my generosity further, Odalisque Ana, for I fear my kindness to the women in my harem is being tested today. I am a friend of the Spur’—he spoke to everyone now—‘and I abhor what he is about to endure. But I admire him and respect him only more for his courage in protecting someone whom I should have protected from herself.’ He looked back to Ana. ‘You may be excused if you wish not to witness your own punishment being inflicted.’

Lazar loved Boaz for what he had just done. By reprimanding Ana so publicly it would save her further torment from her superiors. Now that the Zar had spoken, no-one would be permitted to add to his censure. Ana was naive and could not yet know that not even the Zar himself could overturn certain rulings within the harem. Boaz had offered his own form of protection through his personal admonishment and now he was offering Ana a chance to escape the trauma of watching the flogging take place. The young man was becoming more canny by the day.

They all waited for Ana’s response. She bowed to her Zar and then eyed him defiantly. ‘I will bear witness, Your Majesty, so I never again have any misunderstanding of the barbaric dwelling in which I’m forced to live.’

Salmeo, Tariq and Herezah gasped at her brazenness. Lazar could feel the anger at Ana emanating from the three most powerful people in Percheron, beneath the Zar. He had to pray that Boaz’s personal fire had indeed been lit by Ana, for he was all that stood between her and a life of misery.

Boaz spoke again. ‘Bring the Odalisque Ana to my chambers this evening. I wish a private audience.’ His tone was harsh and the trio who wanted to rule him breathed with relief that not only was he taking charge over such insult but it appeared that he would be seeking his own private retribution later.

Tariq secretly thought Boaz should rape the girl, viciously breaking that precious hymen in his anger at being so publicly rebuked. Then kill her even. No-one in any authority would care. They would all help cover up such a death.

Good, Tariq.
It’s fascinating to hear your angry thoughts, Maliz said suddenly.

I thought you’d deserted me.

How touching. I like to be missed. Someone will need to take control of the Zar for I fear he is taking full control himself. I trust you’ve reached your decision, Vizier.

I have made my decision.

And?

There are conditions.

I make no further bargains.

This is just a temporary arrangement. Will you confirm that?

I will leave your body the moment I’m done with it.

The demon’s reply was a lie so gossamer in texture the ambiguity of the words was not detected by the eager Vizier.
Then I accept.

There was a moment’s silence in his head and then deep laughter.
I shall see you tonight. Go to the bazaar—pass the slaughterhouse—I shall give you directions from there. Now I truly go. Preparations must be made.

Maliz—

No! Not now. Come tonight, late. I shall explain all.

And the demon was gone. Tariq, as if snapped from a sleep, focused again and watched the famously handsome Spur of Percheron being led to the scaffold where, if the Vizier had his way, the man would be flogged to death.

A heavy silence fell upon the crowded courtyard. Yet another door opened and a stranger stepped into the arena. He was young and looked unsure of himself. Behind him came an even younger bearer, carrying a white linen cloth upon which lay the fierce Viper’s Nest. It was so called because the whip comprised six leather thongs, which currently curled around each other somewhat harmlessly but when unleashed could snap against a man’s back so fast and viciously they were akin to the movement of a viper. The cruel instrument was nicknamed the Snake; each thong forked into two, like a serpent’s tongue, and on the tip of each tongue was a tiny silver bead, sharp-edged and crafted deliberately to break skin.

Lazar swallowed hard, but to the onlookers he seemed unmoved by the arrival of the weapon. He had never seen the Snake used but he had heard of the intense injuries it could inflict. No wonder Salmeo was all but shivering in anticipation. Well, he would put on a good show for them and he would bleed hard but he would
not cry out for mercy—he would sooner bite out his own tongue than vent a plea to these mongers of pain. He raised his head to look around the rim of the courtyard at the birds of sorrow which lined the high wall. They seemed to mock him but he cared not.

‘Welcome, Inflictor,’ Salmeo said. He bowed to Boaz again. ‘Your High One, this is Shaz.’

‘This man looks young to be an Inflictor,’ Boaz said, estimating Shaz was no more than a summer or two older than he was.

Salmeo dipped his head in mock humility. ‘Yes, Great One. Our Inflictor is away in the far north. I’m sorry to say his deputy is indisposed today—very unwell in fact—with a high fever.’

‘So who is Shaz?’ the Zar persisted, sensing a ruse. He glanced towards his mother, wondering if any of this might have been her idea. Herezah gave nothing away in her dark gaze but shook her head slightly, as if this was all news to her. Boaz knew his mother well enough to know when she had been taken by surprise. Shaz had nothing to do with her, then.

‘He is an apprentice, Your Majesty,’ the Grand Master Eunuch replied.

‘An apprentice!’

Salmeo shrugged innocently. ‘Your High One, what can I do? The sentence has been proclaimed. The rules of the harem demand that the flogging be carried out immediately. We had no idea that the Spur would choose this path or
perhaps better arrangements could have been made. I would have insisted, in fact. But my understanding was that a member of the harem was to be whipped. Shaz is more than capable of lashing the Odalisque Ana expertly.’

‘And the Spur?’ Boaz demanded.

‘Shaz’s superior has indicated that he is the most talented apprentice in years,’ he lied.

Boaz bristled. Growing up in the harem had prepared him for the subtleties of Salmeo. ‘Then because of the harem’s incompetence in being unable to provide a senior Inflictor, I am using my authority to commute this sentence.’

Salmeo trembled with anger. ‘Zar Boaz, I must pro—’

‘No, Grand Master Eunuch, it is I who protest. This is being handled badly. I accept that the Odalisque Ana has committed a serious crime and I accept that she must be punished. We all accept, because it is written in our laws, that the Spur can claim the Right of Protectorship and take the flogging on her behalf. Finally, we all understand the law of the harem that the Grand Elim alone decides on the method of punishment. But, Salmeo, my word is the law of our land and I have the power to reduce this sentence, if not the way it is carried out.’ Even without the fully deepened voice of manhood Boaz’s tone brooked no argument. He was stirred by the cruelty that was about to unfold here and against someone he admired. He offered the only
protection his status could, glad now that he had paid attention to the tedious lessons in the Law of the Zar.

‘Lazar will receive ten less than the proposed number of lashes because of the bumbling manner in which this serious event is unfolding.’ He took a deep breath. ‘If I could, Salmeo…’ Boaz deliberately used the eunuch’s name rather than his title in order to reinforce his personal authority over the man, ‘I would postpone it until someone experienced could deal the blows. I know I cannot.’ He didn’t wait for a response from the Grand Master Eunuch, looking instead to the uncertain young man who awaited the order to proceed. ‘Shaz.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ the young man said, confused and startled.

‘Twenty lashes only. Do you understand?’

He bowed low. ‘Yes, High One.’ He hesitated as if to add something, but caught the sharp shake of the head from Horz. So did Lazar.

This was all planned then, Lazar realised. Salmeo must have contrived all of this in a couple of hours. Impressive. Poor Shaz. He was being set up to make a complete mess of a man’s body and Lazar understood he would have to steel himself not just against the lick of metal against skin but the certainty of incompetence.

There was nothing he could do. Horz was already indicating that his robes were to be removed. As Shaz unrolled the Snake, Lazar
quietly undressed, wishing this could have been a private debacle rather than having so many witnesses. He stripped down until he stood only in his white trousers and boots, his dark hair shining against the bronzed body.

On the balcony, behind her veil, Herezah took a long, steadying breath. She had pictured Lazar naked many times in her life; she had dreamed of him moving rhythmically above her, his expression filled with the ecstasy of riding her body. But no imagination could make up for the reality that was Lazar. He was, to her despair, so much more desirable in life than in her dreams. He stood boldly before them, his broad chest visibly moving now with the deep breaths of anticipation. She took in the sight of his strong arms, shaped by hard muscle, which he usually hid beneath floaty robes. His light-eyed gaze was distant. He had left everyone here, she realised, and he was disappearing to a new place where perhaps he might escape the shock of what was coming. She felt mild distress that this beautiful body was about to be damaged before she could enjoy it, but then she had no idea of how serious the injury might be. From the distance of the balcony where she and Boaz stood, it was to all intents a normal whip. They could not yet make out the number of thongs on the curled weapon nor the beaded tips.

There was nothing she could do to help Lazar—even for cynical reasons of her own pleasure. All
she could do was relish this opportunity to see him bared and humbled. After all, what were a few lashes to a strong man? She hoped he would groan from the pain and give her satisfaction for all the years of private groaning she had done on his behalf.

Herezah felt a soft shiver of pleasure ripple through her body as Lazar lifted his eyes and looked at her. Oh the exquisite defiance in that glower. She wished she could drag him off and bed him now—nothing would give her greater release than to take him when he was so flagrantly thumbing his nose at those around him.

Was he scared? Surely just a little, for the whip looked suddenly fearsome as the young man, Shaz, unfurled it and cracked it in a couple of practice lashes. Zarab’s Breath! but it was more complex than she had imagined—so many whips within the one weapon. It snapped loudly around the courtyard and she noticed Ana flinch. Good! She wanted to ensure Ana knew what she was responsible for. And he, poor fool, blinded by honour, would shed blood today for a girl who would forget his very existence within a few months.

She was dragged from her cruel musings by the movement of Lazar towards the post. She looked at his broad back now as his arms were raised and tied firmly to the crossbeam. The muscles which striped his body showed themselves as they
tensed in readiness and Herezah held her breath awaiting the sound of the Snake’s first bite.

Pez was running as hard as his stumpy legs could carry him. People laughed and some who knew him called out to the dwarf but he heeded no-one. And as he ran he felt a burning sensation. He thought he was getting warm from his exertion but it was not that sort of heat. It was not on his skin but in his mind and deep within his body. He felt suddenly connected…but to what? It was calling him. Compelling him. Where to? He reached out for the answer as he careered closer to the waterfront.

Shaz nervously flicked the Snake. He had not understood why the Deputy Inflictor had suddenly summoned him to his chamber barely an hour ago and given him instructions that made his hair stand on end.

‘You will be inflicting a flogging today,’ Rah had said flatly.

‘Sir? Is this a practice on the dummies?’

‘No, Shaz. This will be on a real man.’

The youngster was understandably shocked. ‘I am not ready, sir, only yesterday you said—’

Rah’s eyes appeared shrouded. He sounded awkward and his tone angry. ‘I know what I said. I have been given orders.’

‘Sir, have I offended?’

‘No. Just follow your orders.’

Shaz risked his superior’s ire still further. ‘You cannot leave me to this, sir, when I can’t—’

Again the man interrupted his apprentice. ‘We have no say in this! It comes from the highest authority. You have been chosen to do the whipping. Do your best. Remember all that we have taught you. If anyone asks, I have been taken unwell. Do not let your own down.’

Shaz had felt the panic taking over. ‘But I am not ready.’

‘No. But you also have no choice. This is what you’ve trained for—it’s simply happening earlier than we or you would like.’

‘But I know I will injure him. He may not recover.’

Rah felt pity but there was no way out of this for the lad. ‘Take a deep breath between lashes. See the place where you intend the whip to hit, visualise the tip on the spot of skin you are looking at, take aim and snap the whip cleanly, as you’ve been taught. You know what to do—do the best with the skills you have, Shaz.’

‘What if I hurt him too much?’

And then his superior looked down, beaten himself. ‘That is their intention, I imagine.’

It all fell into place for Shaz. He was merely a pawn in a much bigger game played by far more important people who did not respect the work he and his superiors did, the pride they took in doing it properly. ‘They’re sending you away deliberately so that your apprentice makes a fool
of himself and a mess of some victim’s back?’ he asked, stunned.

‘But it is far worse than I have indicated, Shaz. You are instructed to use the Snake.’

At this Shaz quailed. ‘No sir, I cannot do it. I have never yet touched the Viper’s Nest. I am not ready to wield it.’

‘That’s what they’re looking forward to, son.’

‘Who is the victim?’ he asked, unable to imagine which poor sod had so offended the Grand Master Eunuch to be earning this level of punishment.

‘This is the very worst of it. It is the Spur of Percheron whose back you will draw blood from today. I am sorry for you, Shaz. Zarab guide your fist.’

And so here he now stood, trembling, terrified, the Snake lying limp in his clenched, sweaty hand after two practice cracks, waiting to be fully awakened and unleashed mercilessly at the Spur. He had always admired the Spur; watched his long stride around the palace grounds, been impressed by the way his loyal men had leapt to his bidding, had even gladly taken advice once when Lazar had caught him practising his craft on the dummies.

‘Remember that’s a man, Shaz,’ the Spur had cautioned. ‘You must respect his body, as you would your own. Keep mindful that he needs to be able to walk away from this post with a little bit of his pride intact. If you whip him too low
too often he won’t be able to walk, and if you concentrate the lashes too high he won’t be able to lift his arms. Men have work, families, lives. They must be able to return to them. Whippings are punishment only for a transgression—you are not trying to maim or kill the man.’

And Shaz had tried not to forget that guidance. Now he was supposed to remember it as he stared at the broad, unblemished torso of that same man who had given the advice.

‘Spur,’ Salmeo addressed Lazar, ‘are you ready?’

‘Get on with it, curse you!’ Lazar snarled.

‘I am obliged to ask whether you would like something to bite on,’ Salmeo offered politely, keen to prolong the high drama of this moment.

‘No!’ Lazar spat.

‘Thank you. Please position the Odalisque Ana behind the flogging post.’

‘What?’ Lazar roared now, pulling against his bonds as Ana was led by Horz and one other to stand in front of the Spur.

‘Forgive us, Spur, but this is part of the tradition when protectorship is claimed,’ Salmeo answered. ‘The true victim must share the pain of the protector.’

‘You barbarian, Salmeo.’

The eunuch could not help a small smile. ‘Shaz, you may proceed.’

As the young Inflictor took a deep breath and flicked the Snake backwards in preparation for
his first lash, Boaz turned to his mother. ‘I shall never forgive those involved for this.’

‘It is the Spur’s choice,’ she replied, voice hard and as sparkling as a diamond. ‘You can only admire him for it. I do.’

As she turned back, the Snake struck for the first time.