The Golden Barbarian

by Iris Johansen

  Galen startled her by asking suddenly, “Why are you gazing so intently at me, kilen?”

  “Kilen?”

  “It means ‘little one’ or ‘little girl’ in my language.”

  “Oh.” She looked away. “I was wondering if they called you ‘golden’ because of the color of your skin.

  He didn’t answer for a moment, only smiling sardonically. “Do they whisper about me in the schoolrooms too? No, they call me ‘golden’ because of the color of the gold in my purse, and the quantities of lucre therein.”

  She glanced back at him. “You’re very rich?”

  “As Midas. My hills near Zalandan are filled with gold.” His lips twisted. “I’m so rich, my barbarian presence is tolerated and even occasionally sought out here in your august court.”

  He was hurting. She could feel it, and instinctively moved to soothe his pain. “Barbarian means wild, doesn’t it? I would not think it so bad to be wild. The forest is full of beautiful wild things.”

  “But they are not invited to the most fashionable salons.”

  “Then they should be,” she said staunchly.

  “You won’t say that in five years’ time.”

  “Yes, I will.” She waded out of the water and plopped down onto the bank, and Apollo clambered after her. She had lost both shoes, and her brown velvet gown was ruined. She would most certainly get a whipping for her misadventure. However, she would not worry about that now. She was not often allowed to talk to grown-ups, and Galen Ben Raschid was quite the most interesting one she had ever met. “I won’t change.”

  “We shall see.” Galen waded to the bank and then levered himself down beside her. “It will surprise me if you don’t. Your enchanting mother is not one of my advocates.”

  “She’s afraid of my father, and I don’t think he likes you.”

  “Why is she afraid of your father?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Because he beats her when he’s displeased.”

  “Really?” Galen tilted his head to look at her. “And does he whip you when you displease him?”

  “Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “My mother says it is the way of all fathers with their children. Do you not whip your children?”

  “I have no children,” Galen said. “And it’s not the way of the El Zalan to beat the women of our families. There are better ways of chastising them.”

  “What ways?”

  “Never mind.”

  “You probably beat them but do not wish to admit it. My mother says some men don’t like it known, but all of them beat their wives and children.”

  “I do not have a wife either.” He frowned. “And I do not beat helpless women.”

  “Don’t be angry. I won’t speak of it again.” She reached out and stroked Apollo’s sopping coat. “I didn’t mean to displease you. Actually, I believe I like you.”

  “I’m honored.” He smiled crookedly and inclined his head.

  She flushed. “No, truly. I mean it. I do not like many people, but I think I like you.” She added awkwardly, “I thank you for not letting me die in the bog. It was most generous of you to go to the trouble.”

  “I was only being selfish. I have an appointment with His Majesty, and it would have ruined all my plans, even spoiled my entire day, if I’d had to stand by to watch the bog being scoured for your lifeless body.”

  “You’re joking.” She smiled uncertainly. “And you saved Apollo too.”

  “Why do you call him ‘Apollo’? Because he’s so handsome?”

  She shook her head. “Because of Daphne.”

  “Daphne?”

  “Those aren’t really their names. About a year ago my father bought Apollo and Daphne from a Russian count who called them ‘Wolf’ and ‘Sheba.’ My father wanted them to have babies and raise a whole pack of hunters.” She sighed. “But Daphne won’t have anything to do with Apollo.”

  Galen burst into laughter. “And you named her Daphne after the nymph who turned herself into a tree to avoid Apollo’s amorous advances?”

  She nodded. “But perhaps Apollo will be able to change her mind soon.” She frowned worriedly. “My father is becoming very angry with them both.”

  “And he will be angrier still if you do not get back to your maidservant soon.”

  They turned at the sound of an approaching horse. Sacha rode at a leisurely pace over to them and dropped Galen’s boots onto the ground. “You look little better than when I last saw the two of you.”

  “We look much better,” Tess protested indignantly. “We’re clean, and we don’t stink anymore.” She reluctantly got to her feet. “But I must go.” She hesitated. She did not want to leave them. Sacha always made her laugh, and as for his friend … She did not quite know how he made her feel. Most people were easy to put in nooks, but the sheikh puzzled her. He was … dark inside. Not black, as in evil. He was night dark. But Tess had always liked the night far better than the day. When darkness fell, the boringly obvious was deliciously transformed, shrouded in mystery, exciting. She dropped a curtsy and smiled tentatively at Galen. “Good-bye, my lord.”

  A flashing white smile lit up his face. “It’s been an interesting experience meeting you, kilen.”

  She turned and started at a trot toward the forest.

  “Wait,” Sacha called. “Let me take you up on my horse and we’ll—”

  “No!” She shook her head adamantly. “It’s better that I go alone. Pauline will say I shouldn’t have troubled you. She’ll be angry enough.…” The next moment she had disappeared into the forest, with Apollo at her heels.

  “Go after her,” Galen said tersely. “You can’t have a child wandering around in the forest. She’ll get lost or fall into another damn bog.”

  Sacha shook his head. “She knows the forest too well to become lost. She’ll be fine.”

  Galen’s lips thinned. “With a maid who fornicates under the child’s eyes? Are you going to tell her mother?”

  “No, she would dismiss Pauline.”

  “Good. An action much to be desired.”

  Sacha shook his head. “Bad. Tess, the poor imp, has little enough freedom. You’ve met my dear uncle Axel. His Highness has the distinction of being one of the most arrogant bastards on the face of the earth. He treats Tess little better than a chattel.” He grimaced. “Worse, when she angers him. At least with a careless strumpet like Pauline as a servant, Tess gets to escape that prison of a schoolroom occasionally.” He glanced curiously at Galen. “Why are you so concerned? You’re not one to worry about the morals of serving wenches.” He chuckled. “Unless it interferes with you having your way with them.”

  Galen’s reaction was as much a surprise to him as to Sacha. Something about Tess Rubinoff’s honesty and matter-of-fact acceptance of the world around her had oddly touched him. “Your cousin has courage. It’s a quality I admire.” He shrugged as he tugged on his left boot. “But it’s of no concern to me. I only mentioned it because the child is your kin.” He glanced at Sacha. “Though you seem to know overmuch about the lack of virtue of this Pauline.”

  Sacha nodded with satisfaction. “Last summer.” He puffed up his chest and beamed blissfully. “For four splendid weeks I gored her every night like the bull I am, and she loved every minute of it. I had her screaming with pleasure.”

  “And where did this goring take place?”

  “In her chamber.”

  Galen pulled on his other boot. “Beside the nursery?”

  Sacha frowned. “Yes. Why?”

  “No special reason. Just curious.” No wonder Sacha had not been worried about talking out of turn in front of his cousin. His presence in the slut’s bed had contributed as much as Pauline’s other partners to the child’s worldly education. Galen stood up, struggled into his silk coat, then swung up onto Telzan’s back. “Let’s get back to the palace. These wet clothes are beginning to feel uncomfortable, and I must be ready for my audience with your father in three hours.”

 
; Sacha nodded. “You know I would help you more if I could?” He shook his head. “A second son has little power in a monarchy.”

  Galen smiled as he urged his horse into a trot. “You’ve done more than I hoped. You’ve introduced me at court and persuaded your father to listen to the wild man from Sedikhan. I wouldn’t have received even that boon if you hadn’t interceded.”

  “I may not have done you a favor. Both my father and older brother have little use for me.… I’m much too flippant for their tastes.”

  But, Galen knew, beneath Sacha’s flippancy lay keen intelligence and a good heart. Soon after making the acquaintance of Sacha Rubinoff, Galen had realized that the young prince’s notorious pranks and mischief-making stemmed from boredom. The society into which he’d been born simply did not suit his volatile nature. Of late, Galen had begun to wonder what kind of man Sacha would have been if he had been raised to the sword and seasoned by battle. “You’ve done me a very great favor. You’ve given me what I came to Tamrovia to obtain.”

  Sacha’s smile faded. “Don’t count too much on this audience. It’s difficult to stir my father into any decisive action these days.”

  “I have to try.” He tried to suppress any show of desperation. “I have to make your father see that an alliance must be formed for the sake of both our countries.”

  Sacha pushed back his chair and stood up when Galen strode out of the audience chamber into the anteroom. “How did it—” Galen’s stormy expression answered his question, “Not well.”

  “No alliance,” Galen said curtly. “His Majesty sees no advantage in aligning himself with a primitive tribe that can offer him nothing for his protection but promises.” Galen strode down the hall past the row of footmen, his every step charged with explosive energy. “Fool! Can’t he see that a united Sedikhan could offer Tamrovia more than he could offer us?”

  “You’re speaking of my august father,” Sacha reminded him mildly as he fell into step with Galen.

  “He is a fool.”

  “Yes,” Sacha agreed amiably. “A very stubborn one.”

  “I needed this alliance to mold the tribes into a single central government. With Tamrovia as an ally the El Zalan could use the threat of a foreign invasion to rally the chieftains. There’s little as powerful as a threat from an outside force to unify those who enjoy being at odds.” Galen’s voice vibrated harshly off the fresco-decorated domed ceilings. “Dammit, the wars can’t go on. They’re ripping Sedikhan apart. We can’t go forward as long as the tribes continue to raid and kill each other.”

  Sacha had heard it all before and remained sympathetically silent.

  “Tamrovia’s forces are puny compared to the might of Sedikhan’s warriors. Your father is a lunatic to believe we couldn’t help defend his borders.”

  Sacha didn’t mind this further insult to his father as he felt much the same. However, he wasn’t sure he liked his country’s military might impugned. He decided to change the subject. “So what do you do now?”

  “Go home,” Galen muttered savagely. “What else is there for me to do? Go back to warring and killing and protecting my own. It’s the way of life in Sedikhan.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “Where I’m looked upon as a barbarian?” Galen shook his head. “No, my friend. I’d soon grow tired of the jokes, the innuendos, and show them how a real barbarian behaves.” He glanced at Sacha. “Why don’t you come to Sedikhan with me? You have no fondness for the life here at the court.”

  “I might do that. I hear your women are beautiful and exceedingly generous to us poor males.”

  “Come and find out.”

  Sacha’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “But one can spend only so much time involved in bed play. And, since you’re determined to make Sedikhan into such a boringly peaceful place …” He studied Galen speculatively. “I’ve always wondered why you chose such a path.”

  Galen didn’t respond.

  “You’re matchless with a sword, a dead shot. Yet you—”

  “What does it matter?”

  “I’m curious. I’ve found that anything I do well I wish to do again.”

  “I … I like it too much,” Galen said haltingly, not looking at him.

  Puzzled, Sacha gazed at him. Then, suddenly, he understood. Powerful emotions seethed beneath Galen Ben Raschid’s apparently calm exterior. Once allowed beyond Galen’s facade, Sacha had found the sheikh possessed a recklessness and undisciplined nature that matched his own.

  How would a nature so untamed respond to the unlimited opportunity for violence now existing in Sedikhan?

  Galen was watching the expressions flitting across Sacha’s face. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m even more of a savage than they think I am.” His lips tightened. “But I don’t have to be. I have intelligence and strength of will. A man need not remain uncivilized because of his birth and perhaps even his instincts.”

  But it would be a lifelong battle between Galen’s innate savagery and reason, Sacha thought with sympathy. “When will you leave Tamrovia?”

  “Tomorrow at dawn.” Galen smiled brilliantly. “Stop frowning. I haven’t given up. I’m just going home to regroup my forces. If I can’t get Tamrovia for an ally, perhaps I’ll go to France and apply to Napoleon.”

  “France is a long way from Sedikhan.”

  “And Napoleon is very greedy. He might decide to ‘protect’ me out of all the gold in Zalandan.” Galen shrugged. “Still, it’s something to consider.”

  “Your mother was French, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” he said curtly as he stopped at the foot of the marble staircase. “French and Tamrovian.” He changed the subject. “I’m going back to my apartment and tell Said to make arrangements for the journey.”

  “But I’ll see you this evening?”

  Galen nodded, and a reckless smile lit his face. “By all means. Meet me here in the hall at eight. We’ll find several accommodating ladies, and I’ll show you how a warrior of the El Zalan takes his pleasure.”

  Before Sacha could speak, Galen was swiftly climbing the staircase.

  “Several?” Sacha murmured, intrigued. He was suddenly sure it was going to prove a most interesting evening.

  Someone was watching him.

  Galen came wide awake in bed.

  His muscles were tensed, ready to spring, but he lay quite still, his eyes slitted. His dagger was on the table by the bed, but he’d have to reach over the woman curled on his left to reach it.

  “My lord Galen.”

  His lids flicked open. Gray eyes gazed down at him from a white, strained face surrounded by a riot of auburn curls, a child’s face.

  Tess Rubinoff’s small hand tightened on the copper candle-holder she held. “Have you had too much wine too?” she whispered.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” He jerked upright, instinctively reaching for a sheet to cover his nudity.

  Tess breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not drunk. I went to Sacha’s chamber first and could not make him understand.…” She took a step back. “I need help. I can’t do it by myself. Will you—” Her glance fell on the naked woman curled up on the far side of him. “Two of them? Pauline never had more than one at a time. Why do you—”

  “How did you get in here? I wasn’t too drunk to lock the door.”

  “Through the dressing room. There’s a secret passage that leads into many rooms in the palace. I discovered it three years ago,” Tess murmured absently, still studying the golden-haired woman nestled close to Galen. “That’s Lady Camilla, isn’t it? She looks thinner without her clothes. Who is the other one?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” He frowned. “Said is sleeping in the dressing room.”

  “Your servant? I was very quiet. He didn’t wake up.” She shrugged dismissively. “But that’s not important. I need your help.” She glanced at the sheet he’d pulled over his hips. “Are you cold?” She turned and snatched his crimson velvet robe from a chair be
side the bed. “Here, put this on.”

  “Thank you,” he said dryly as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the robe. “You’re very considerate, if not overly circumspect.”

  Camilla turned over and moaned in her sleep.

  Tess glanced casually at her. “They’re both sleeping very soundly. Are they in their cups too?”

  “They’ve had a few glasses of wine.”

  Tess critically studied the slumbering women. “More than a few glasses. But I suppose we don’t want to chance waking them. I really shouldn’t be here.”

  “I believe I’ve already made that observation.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the dressing room.” She turned and started across the chamber to the door of the antechamber.

  “If Said wakes up, he’ll cut your throat before I can join you. The men of our tribe do not appreciate midnight visitors.”

  “I’ve learned to move very quietly. I won’t wake him.”

  “Then you can move right back to your chamber. I have no intention of going anyw—” The back of the child’s white gown was spattered with brown-red stains. Bloodstains.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

  “Nothing. Go on. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  She opened the paneled door and disappeared from view.

  Galen muttered a curse as he carefully climbed over Camilla and slipped from the bed.

  He didn’t need this problem after several hours of roistering and sexual indulgence. His head was only a little clearer than Sacha’s, and his temper was not of the best. If the child had been beaten by that brutal ox of a father, it was Sacha’s concern and not Galen’s. She was not his kinswoman, and he had no reason to feel such a flare of rage at the sight of blood on her gown. His emotion for the waif probably stemmed from his rescue of her from the bog. He would listen to her tale of woe and then send her back to her chamber with a promise to talk to Sacha in the morning.