The Captive Flesh (6 page)

She had the feeling that he would like to tear the clothes from her body. Even to punish her a little for her shameless enjoyment, for the way the wicked pleasure had rolled over her without the need for anyone's touch. She would have liked that, welcomed it even, though she feared the strength of Kasim's reactions.

She was a little afraid of herself too; the docile convent girl was fast undergoing a transformation. It was a heady sensation, this self-discovery. She longed to talk to Claudine, to confide in her.

For some time they walked in silence and Gabriel's face invaded Marietta's thoughts. She knew that she
would not forget him but Kasim's insistent presence surrounded her. Even the memory of the beautiful prisoner took second place to her charming companion.

The fans and parasols waved over her head and she smelt salt on the warm breeze that blew in from the sea. The streets were wider here, the cobbles clean. They passed the walls of great houses; sheer and white, reaching up high overhead. Balconies, boxed in by ornate screens, jutted out over the street. Soon they came to a stone gate; it was huge and ornately carved. Two burly soldiers stood on guard. Mehmet knocked on the gate with his staff; it opened and they entered into a cool shady courtyard. More guards were apparent; they saluted Kasim.

‘Welcome to my home,' Kasim said bowing to his guests. ‘All that I have is yours.'

‘Thank you. You are most kind,' Claudine replied at Marietta's side.

Servants came out to welcome their master home. Marietta was aware of many eyes studying them from windows that looked out on to the courtyard. Shadowy veiled shapes peered through the carved screens. A woman's hand protruded from a small arch. The hand was long and slender and covered in some sort of painted design. Gold bracelets were clustered on her wrist and on her middle finger she wore an enormous emerald ring.

Kasim looked up toward the owner of the hand. He smiled briefly, made a subtle gesture of greeting, then turned his attention back to Marietta and Claudine.

‘Take my guests to the women's quarter,' he ordered a slave. ‘Leyla is to be given charge of them.'

Taking hold of Marietta's gloved hand he carried it to his lips, then did the same to Claudine.

‘I have business to see to for the moment. Leyla will
see to it that you are bathed and made comfortable. In the cool of the evening I shall join you in the garden.'

‘I shall look forward to it,' Marietta said.

Kasim bowed, then walked towards a stone tower with Mehmet. The rest of the entourage followed him.

‘Please to come this way,' the slave said, leading them both towards a side entrance.

There were guards patrolling the forecourt and yet more guards stood to either side of the small brass-bound door.

‘What riches Kasim must have to need so many men to guard him,' Claudine said.

Marietta had been thinking the same thing. As they passed through the brass-bound door, the guards stood aside. Neither of them glanced at the two women. The door was pulled to and slammed shut behind them. Marietta whirled, suddenly feeling panicky; there was such an air of finality about the dull clang.

The slave waited patiently, silently, until she collected herself and walked forward.

‘What is it?' Claudine said.

‘I … I don't know. But this is not what I expected. It's almost as if we are locked in. It seems a strange way to treat one's guests.'

Claudine smiled. ‘I expect it is the custom here. I find it all fascinating. I'm sure that Kasim is just being protective. Now stop worrying. I must confess that the thought of a bath and a place to rest has quite pushed all other worries out of my mind.'

Marietta shrugged. Perhaps her friend was right. She too welcomed the thought of bathing. She realised how tired she felt. Her nerves seemed a little ragged, and no wonder after the spectacle and her response at the marketplace. They were led down corridors and passageways. Slaves hurried to and fro on various errands.
There were many of them, of various races, and all women or girls. They hardly glanced at Marietta and Claudine.

Marietta could not explain why, but she still felt uneasy. Though the surroundings were luxurious in the extreme, there was a cloistered feel about the place. Somehow it reminded her of the convent. The air smelt of sweet spices, perfume, and aromatic smoke. Once, as they crossed an inner courtyard, she glimpsed the town, framed in an open archway. It seemed very far away.

They followed the silent slave across endless tiled floors and stone paving. It seemed a long time before they stopped at the entrance to a chamber. The slave bowed and gestured that they might go in.

Marietta parted the beaded curtain that draped the archway. She and Claudine stepped into the most beautiful room they had ever seen. Embroidered silks framed the low divans, where a number of women reclined. Some were talking, others played board games or nibbled sweetmeats. Slaves served the women with dishes of food and drink.

They were welcomed and drawn into the room. All activity stopped as everyone crowded around. Marietta smiled nervously, speaking words of greeting. Someone held out their arms for the concealing outer clothes. She and Claudine disrobed and a silence fell when the lovely pale faces were revealed. Then a great noise broke out as everyone began speaking at once.

There was much giggling over the French clothes and hairstyles. Marietta stood uncomfortably while the women ran their hands over her hair, plucking at the spray of silk flowers and ribbons, drawing her pale curls through their thin brown fingers. But it was her clear-blue eyes that drew the most admiring glances.
She smiled hesitantly, looking round with lowered eyelids, a becoming pink flush staining her cheeks.

Marietta noticed one woman in particular, studying her with avid interest. But this woman did not smile with delight; instead her eyes were wide and appreciative. She was exotically beautiful. Her face, a perfect oval, was dominated by long almond eyes so dark they seemed to be black. A crown of night-black plaits was wrapped around her head and rubies glinted amidst the heavy coils of hair. Her painted red lips stood out against her astonishing white skin.

After a few moments, the dark woman stood up and clapped her hands for silence. The noise subsided and the women drew away a little.

‘I am Leyla,' the dark woman said. ‘Kasim Dey asks that I take care of you until you become accustomed to our ways. May we know your names?'

They introduced themselves. Claudine commented on how thoughtful it was of Kasim to think of their welfare.

‘We shall not be staying very long,' she added. ‘Just until our passage is arranged to Martinique.'

Some of the women exchanged glances. Leyla looked warningly at them. She smiled. ‘Of course. But for now you are our guests. It is an honour to welcome you. First you must eat and take your ease. After, I will show you where you may sleep. Then you may wish to bathe.'

She clapped her hands. Marietta and Claudine were led to a divan and made comfortable amongst embroidered silk cushions. Food soon arrived, served in dishes on low tables of carved and gilded wood. There was no cutlery and Marietta hesitated to eat with her fingers. Leyla saw her embarrassment and, dipping her fingers into a bowl, showed them both how it was done.

Marietta was famished and ate everything put in front of her. The food was delicious: aubergines stuffed with peppers and onions; fish in a delicately spiced sauce; fluffy rice; and sherbets, cool fruit drinks. After eating they washed their hands in bowls of rose-scented water. Across the room a woman began playing a musical instrument. Another sang.

Claudine relaxed against the cushions. A tray of sugared nuts was placed beside her and something that looked like a brass lamp, entwined by a snake. Leyla explained that it was a
nargileh
, a water pipe. Marietta was fascinated to see that the women smoked it with relish. They offered it to Claudine. Giggling she tried it and, finding it to her taste, began to smoke with enthusiasm.

‘Do try it, Marietta. It is quite delightful. The tobacco is perfumed and very cool.'

Marietta declined to smoke.

‘Would you like to bathe then?' Leyla said. ‘Your friend is comfortable here. Let us leave her to entertain the women. We do not have many visitors. Any diversion is welcome.'

Claudine waved the pipe tube, looking completely at ease. ‘You go, Marietta,' she said, ‘I'll join you later.'

She was plainly flattered by all the attention. A group of women had gathered around her, admiring her pale skin, stroking her red-gold hair. The golden freckles on the skin above her neckline caused many comments. One of the women unwound a sparkling blue sash from her waist and held it up against Claudine's skin.

‘Women of your fair colouring are a rarity in these regions,' Leyla said to Marietta. ‘You will be made much of here. But others will be jealous. Stay close to me. I will protect you.'

Protect her from what? Marietta wondered, and was about to ask, but Leyla was leading the way across the room, her slim sandalled feet making no sound on the thick colourful rugs. Claudine's infectious bell-like laugh rang out. It seemed that this place, with its luxury and promise of sensual delights, was already working its spell on her friend.

‘Come, Marietta,' Leyla said, in her soft husky voice. ‘I will take you to the hammam where all worries and fears are put aside for a time, and there is only the enjoyment of the perfumed water. If you are tired, you will be invigorated. If you are tense, you will become relaxed.'

It was just what Marietta needed to hear. She went with Leyla, gladly.

‘This is the hammam – the baths,' Leyla explained. ‘It is more than a place of cleansing. Here we meet to relax and exchange gossip. Only women are allowed. The men have separate baths in different parts of the house.'

The ballroom at Marietta's house in Martinique was not as fine. Here, tall narrow columns soared up to a coloured skylight and the walls and floors were inlaid with tiles. A dense perfumed vapour hung over the room and a plunge pool occupied the centre of it. The surface of the water was level with the floor.

A number of women, naked or partially clothed, were being attended by slaves holding dishes of sweetmeats. Some of them swam in the pool, others sat on the sides drying their hair with fluffy towels. More of them sat around talking or reclining on cushioned platforms.

They were all beautiful.

A woman walked up to Leyla wearing only a pair of
bath shoes and a loose gauze robe. A jewelled sash was tied loosely on her hips. She had a large-framed voluptuous body, all of it clearly visible through the thin gauze. Propping one hand on her hip, she exchanged a few friendly words with Leyla. When she laughed her breasts jiggled.

Marietta averted her eyes, trying not to stare. She had never seen so many naked women. When bathing, at the convent, she had been made to wear a voluminous calico robe. All bodily contact between the young women was frowned upon, so she was doubly shocked when the woman gave Leyla a lingering kiss on the mouth before tottering away on her stilted shoes.

Leyla smiled. ‘I have kept you waiting. Forgive me. Come then, we must disrobe. First we wash and make our bodies beautiful. Then after, we can talk and drink sherbet.'

Two female slaves stood ready to wait on them. They were both young and comely, and naked except for their jewellery. Chains and strings of metal discs adorned the slaves' necks and chests. And peeking, through all this finery, were their upright young breasts, each gilded nipple jutting out provocatively. Despite Marietta's censorious thoughts, she found all the nakedness arousing.

The slaves disrobed Leyla. Her perfect body drew Marietta's eyes, as earlier Gabriel's had done. Leyla's limbs were long and rounded – the skin pale, glowing softly like a pearl. She had large breasts, full and slightly up-tilted, with prominent wine-red nipples. Her waist was narrow, tapering to lushly flaring hips. The smooth indentation that swooped down to her groin, on either side of her flat belly, was particularly lovely. Marietta swept her eyes over Leyla's body in
appreciation, realising that, to her utter amazement, there was no body hair.

She found herself staring openly at the smoothly naked mound, where the slit of Leyla's sex was plainly visible. It looked strange to her. The little pouting mound was somehow childlike, yet distinctly womanly at the same time. The pink inner lips showed slightly through the closed flesh-lips and, as Leyla moved, Marietta saw the tip of what looked like a darker pink bud protruding. It was most enticing.

Leyla caught her looking. She did not seem to mind. Turning around in a circle, she said, without a trace of modesty, ‘I am beautiful, yes? You like me, Marietta? That is good. For I find you beautiful too. We shall find pleasure in each other.'

Her words were strange. They promised something unknown; Marietta felt excited and fearful in equal measure.

Leyla watched closely as Marietta was undressed. Marietta squirmed under the directness of those long black eyes, but she did not protest. It seemed foolish to protest when everyone else was naked, or partly so, but as the final garments were taken from her, she could not help hunching over a little and holding her cupped hands over the lightly shadowed mound at the joining of her thighs.

Leyla laughed huskily. ‘But no,' she said. ‘Do not hide yourself. Let me look.'

She took hold of Marietta's wrists and gently but firmly pulled her arms out to the sides and held them there. Marietta's cheeks felt hot and she longed to cover herself. The two slave girls watched, smiling slightly. Her embarrassment mounted as Leyla studied her intently.

‘Ah. You have no need of the magic of cosmetics. Your body is beautiful. Such pretty breasts, so high and round, and the nipples, pink and tender, waiting for the touch of hands or mouth. Your waist is small, very small. That device of bones and laces you wear is to make a small waist, yes? Your hips are shapely; they flare out beautifully.'