Bedazzled

by Bertrice Small

  “I am,” India replied softly.

  “Excellent!” the iman answered with a smile. “Very well. I will witness you pledging to one another. You may begin, my lord dey.”

  Caynan Reis took India’s hand in his. “Azura will whisper the words to you when it is your turn,” he reassured her. Then, with a smile, he spoke his promise to her. “I, Caynan, take you, India, as my lawfully married wife before God, and in front of this company, in accordance with the teachings of the Quran. I promise to do everything to make this marriage an act of obedience to God, to make it a relationship of love, mercy, peace, faithfulness, and cooperation. Let God be my witness, because God is the best of all witnesses. Amen.” His deep blue eyes looked directly into her golden ones as he spoke his vows.

  India felt her cheeks grow pink. She was being married, and certainly in a manner she had never anticipated, or even expected. For a moment, tears welled up, and she wished her parents and her siblings were here with her. She was not unhappy with her decision, but she missed those she loved best. He squeezed her hand, and she focused upon his handsome face once more, smiling softly through her veil at him as she began to speak her own marriage vows to him.

  “I, India, take you, Caynan, as my lawfully married husband before God, and in front of this company, in accordance with the teachings of the Quran. I promise to do everything to make this marriage an act of obedience to God, to make it a relationship of love, mercy, peace, faithfulness, and cooperation. Let God be my witness, because God is the best of all witnesses. Amen.”

  “It is done then,” Abd Allah said with a broad smile. “May I offer you my felicitations, my lord dey. We are pleased to see you take a wife at long last. May the union be fruitful, and may your wife give you many fine sons.”

  “I will endeavor to see that she does her duty,” the dey returned with a broad smile.

  “Come,” said Azura, taking India by the arm. “We must return to the palace discreetly. The servants have been working all day to prepare your apartments. I think you will be pleased.” The two women entered their litter, Baba Hassan walking alongside of them. “And you must visit the haremlik before sunset.”

  “Why?” India asked her. “I am not going to live there. Those women hated me before I married my lord. How will they feel now? I am content to let them remain in their part of the palace, and I will remain in my part of the palace.”

  “The dey is not giving up his harem, India,” Azura said. “It would be very unrealistic of you to believe he will cleave only to you. His appetite for female flesh is a strong one, and he indulges it daily. There will be times when you are unclean, or with child. You cannot ask him to suppress his desires in those times. It would be unhealthy for his juices to be so pent up. You are now the head of his women, and you must make peace with those silly, foolish creatures for the sake of your husband. His house must be a place of quiet and calm. Now, of the seven, Samara is the most dangerous. Be firm, but fair with her. She will not like you, but it may prevent her from mischief. If it does not, I will have her sold off. Nila is the clever one. She will act to her own advantage, but do not trust her. Mirmah, I believe, can be trusted. She is a gentle creature, and good-natured to a fault. As for the others, they are harmless, though some are sharp-tongued. I have chosen little gifts for you to give them this evening. Each is different, but none more valuable than the other, and they will recognize that.”

  India sighed deeply. “Very well,” she said. “I will follow your advice, my lady Azura. In these matters you know better than I.”

  Azura laughed. “You are too young to isolate yourself, India. The harem women will be like sisters. Some you will love, others you will probably hate, but you will all manage to get on together.”

  “You say that with such certainty,” India said.

  “I have lived in the harem for over thirty years,” Azura replied. “You are so fortunate. My lord Sharif made no woman his wife. He feared his enemies too much. While I was his favorite, I had to share his affections with the other women in his harem. It was not always easy for me, but it made him happy that I kept the peace within his house. I never whined at my lord about the other women, which set me apart from them. They were foolish, and were forever pouring a litany of complaints into his ear. My sole efforts were directed toward his comfort, his pleasure. I asked for nothing, and in return received everything. Even though you are the dey’s wife now, India, you could benefit from my example,” she concluded.

  “Was Baba Hassan chief eunuch in lord Sharif’s time?” India asked the older woman.

  “Nay, the chief eunuch was old Baba Mamood. He died shortly after my lord Sharif. Baba Hassan was my personal servant, and my lord Caynan raised him into his current position on my advice. Baba Hassan and I love Caynan Reis as we would a son. We do whatever we have to do to see to his happiness and his safety,” Azura told India.

  “Who is he?” India wondered aloud. “I know nothing about him other than he, too, was once a captive. I do not know his nationality, or his station in his former life, or even his age.”

  “He is twenty-eight,”Azura told her. “As for the rest, what does it matter? It has nothing to do with today. You love Caynan Reis, and that is all that should matter to you. Your life is here, and not back there in some other world, in some other time and place.”

  India nodded. “You are correct, my lady Azura. The past is nothing now. We must live for the present.” She sighed. “I only wish that my family might know of my happiness. I hate to think of the pain I have caused them by my precipitous and hasty flight.”

  “If they knew where you were,” Azura said, “they would surely attempt to retrieve you from us. Perhaps in a few years when you have children, you will be allowed to send a message to your mother.”

  “My grandmother would understand my plight better than anyone else in my family,” India said. “She was in a similar position in her youth, and became the fortieth wife of the Grand Mughal Akbar.”

  “Yet she returned to England?” Azura was puzzled.

  “Her family learned where she was, but might have been content except Grandmama’s husband, the earl of BrocCairn, was alive. She had thought him dead in a duel, and had gone off to India with her elder brother to meet her parents when she was kidnapped and sent to my grandfather. By the time they found her, and requested her return, Grandmama had had my mother. Her family, of course, did not know that. My grandfather would not allow her to take the baby to England with her, and that is how Mama came to be raised in Akbar’s imperial court. My family is not like any others,” India finished.

  “I should say not!” Azura remarked with a chuckle. “Ahh, we are finally back,” she said as the litter was put down with a small bump. “Come, my lady India, and I will show you your new apartments. Then we must go to the harem.” She laughed when the bride wrinkled her pretty nose in distaste.

  India’s new apartments were directly adjacent to her husband’s. They would share the garden. There were but two rooms plus a small servant’s chamber. The walls were white, the floors squares of large red tile. The day room had a small fountain in its center that was made of yellow-and-white tiles. There were several overstuffed divans with rolled arms, striped in blue and yellow satin; low ebony tables inlaid with tiny squares of multicolored tile; a rectangular cedar table upon which were a silver tray holding a decanter of lemon sherbet as well as a blue-and-white Fezware bowl of fresh fruit. There were large colorful pillows with gold tassels and standing bronze lamps burning fragrant aloes. Lamps of colored glass and warm, polished brass hung from the ceilings. Sheer silken curtains hung in the arches that opened to the garden, the carved screens being pulled aside.

  The bedchamber was simple. There was a bed upon a gilt-and-painted dais. The mattress was covered in silver and sea-blue silk. There were more tasseled pillows. Several cedar chests were placed about the room, and upon a lovely table with carved legs was a gold-backed hand mirror and matching brush for her hair. By th
e bed was a low table upon which rested a silver lamp burning perfumed oils. Carved ivory screens blocked the arches, and were hung with silk curtains.

  “Are you pleased?” Azura asked her.

  India nodded. “It is all so lovely. Please thank the servants for me, lady. They have done very well. What is in the trunks?”

  “Part of your bride price, I suspect. Clothing, jewelry, fragrance. There will be time for you to explore later.”

  “The harem,” India resigned. “Where are their gifts?”

  “Baba Hassan will bring them when he knows we are ready,” Azura said. “If you go now, you will be able to join your husband all the sooner. Are you not ready again for his kisses and caresses?”

  India blushed, nodding. “Let us go then,” she replied.

  As they entered the harem, the day room grew suddenly silent as seven pairs of eyes fixed themselves upon India.

  “Make you obeisance to our master’s wife, now head of this household,” Azura announced to them. Then her eagle eye observed as the seven women bowed low to India, even Samara.

  “I thank you for your greeting,” India said in reply. “I have brought you all little tokens to celebrate my marriage today.” She turned to the chief eunuch. “Baba Hassan, you know which gift is for which lady. Will you hand the gifts to me? I admit to not choosing them, for I do not know you all well enough yet, but I would have them come from my hand to yours.” She smiled.

  “Will the harem continue to exist, lady?” demanded Samara boldly. She was not a woman to beat about the bush.

  “Whether the harem exists or doesn’t exist is not my province. That is in the dey’s domain. I am content, however, that you be here, but my husband’s house must be free of discord. I will strive to see that it is so, Samara.”

  Her answer seemed to appease the harem women, and they each stepped forward to receive their gift. The gentle Mirmah set the tone by taking India’s two hands in hers, and pressing them to her forehead in a gesture of acceptance and respect. Each of the others followed Mirmah’s example, Samara being the last and obviously reluctant. India smiled at each of them, though some more warmly than others as she handed out the gift packets, which were wrapped in silk kerchiefs, and tied with gold ribbons. The ladies cried out, delighted as they opened their gifts, for Baba Hassan had not been stingy in choosing. The women compared the earrings and necklaces, and were all satisfied.

  “Will you partake of light refreshments with us, my lady?” Mirmah asked India.

  “I will be happy to join you,” India replied, noting that Azura had disappeared from the scene.

  The women led India to a divan, positioning themselves about her upon cushions as the slaves brought sweet grape sherbet, and a plate with tiny honey cakes and small horns of chopped nuts, and dough filled with raisins, nuts, and honey. There were also sweet dates and juicy figs upon the plate.

  “You know I am English,” India said as they ate. “I want to know about all of you. Mirmah is Circassian, Azura has told me, but what of the rest?”

  “I am French,” Nila said. “I am seventeen, and have lived in the dey’s harem since I was fifteen. I was a gift to him from the dey of Algiers, who was my first master.”

  “We are Greek,” Laylu said, indicating Deva in her statement. “We came from the same village, and have been enslaved since we were ten. Baba Hassan bought us in the market of El Sinut three years ago.”

  “I am Venetian,” Sarai spoke up. “I come from a family of wealthy merchants. I was on my way to Naples to be married when my vessel was captured. After the corsair captain had taken his pleasure of me, he gave me to the dey, who beheaded him for violating me. Women captives are not supposed to be mistreated.”

  “I am Moorish,” Leah said. “My family was poor, and sold me into slavery so they might survive. I had two masters before I came to the dey’s harem last year.”

  “I am of Syrian birth,” Samara said curtly.

  India did not press Samara further, for she obviously did not wish to speak on her origins in detail for whatever reason. “It seemed so strange here at first,” she said, “but now this is home. Did you all feel that way, too?”

  The other girls nodded.

  “Most of us were born free,” Sarai said. “Being a slave, even a privileged slave, is difficult at first. You have done well to win our lord Caynan’s heart and in such a short time, when none of the others of us could do it. He has always been kind, but he merely slakes his lusts upon our bodies. You have gained something more, my lady India, and we are frankly envious of you.”

  India blushed, not knowing what to say.

  “But we are safe and comfortable,” Mirmah spoke up, “and we shall all be friends. I was born on a slave farm, and raised to be a harem woman. It is better when the women of the harem get on, my lady India. My first master was Aruj Agha, who purchased me in the great market of Istanbul. One evening when the dey came to Aruj Agha’s house for a meal, he saw me, and admired me. Aruj Agha had me delivered to the palace the next morning. I like it here. Aruj Agha had no other women, for he could not afford them. It was lonely waiting for him to return from his voyages. I am glad we have each other, and I am happy that our lord Caynan has found a wife.”

  Her sweet nature touched India, and, reaching out, she took Mirmah’s hand and Sarai’s hand in hers, saying, “I agree with Mirmah. We should all be friends, and keep peace in our lord’s house. I promise you that I will be a good mistress to you.”

  “Allah!” Samara exclaimed. “I do not know if it is the cakes or the atmosphere, but I think I am going to be sick from all this sweetness.”

  India burst out laughing. “You remind me of my sister, Fortune, Samara,” she said. “She says exactly what she is thinking, too.”

  Samara was surprised by India’s reaction. She had expected the dey’s bride to be offended, but here she was making light of Samara’s rudeness. “Did you really take a knife to the dey when you arrived?” she asked India, frankly curious to know if the stories had been only rumor.

  “I did,” India admitted. “It is fortunate my aim was so poor, as I now love him.” she chuckled.

  “Allah! You are daring,” Samara said with grudging admiration.

  “I was not taught to fear,” India replied quietly.

  “How will you feel if our lord takes a second wife?” Sarai asked India frankly.

  “Jealous,” India responded candidly, “but I shall have to live with it.” She paused. “If he takes a second wife,” she concluded.

  The other women laughed.

  “I suppose it is best to leave everything as it is now,” Samara said thoughtfully. “One wife, and a harem. It would appear that we can all get along if we try, and we are content as things are.”

  The others murmured in agreement, and Azura, watching from behind a screen, was extremely pleased that India had taken her counsel, making her peace with the women of the harem. She is an intelligent young woman, the mistress of the harem considered. She can be influenced if she is approached correctly. El Sinut will be kept safe from the machinations of the janissaries. I am certain of it now. She turned her attentions back to the young women seated about India and listened with great interest, for they had somehow managed to turn the conversation to matters of a sensual nature.

  India, blushing at their teasing, was clever enough to admit that she knew absolutely nothing about lovemaking other than what the dey had introduced her to the previous night. “I am so ignorant,” she said. “I know it is audacious of me to ask your help in such matters, but I would please our master.”

  How ingenious of her, Azura thought admiringly. If nothing else, her very artlessness will win them all over. Even Samara. It is deftly done, particularly calling Caynan Reis our master, and not her husband. By not lording it over them she made herself one of them. It was skillful, and wickedly adroit of India. Azura considered the dey’s wife might turn out to be far more than they had anticipated.

  The mistress of
the harem turned her attention back to the seven women and India, listening with great amusement as they all began talking at once, for each was certain she could teach India how to please the dey better than any of the others. Azura remained to be certain none of the other women misled the bride, but they obviously did not consider it, being far too interested in imparting their own knowledge to her. The older woman shook her head wonderingly. Everything was going even better than she had hoped. Baba Hassan would be equally pleased when she told him. It was simply perfect!

  Chapter 12

  The chief eunuch bustled into the harem, and, going to India, bowed politely. “My lady, your husband wishes your presence.”

  India arose at once. “I shall never remember everything,” she said with a small laugh. “May I come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes!” they chorused, and sent her on her way.

  “Well,” Samara said as the harem doors closed behind the dey’s wife. “I have to admit she is likable. Or so it would seem. Prepare yourselves for a drought ladies. He will not grow tired of her for some time, and we, fools as we are, are helping her to retain his attentions!”

  “She will be with child the sooner,” Nila chuckled, “and then the dey will seek us out for his pleasure and amusement.”

  “Why should she have a child when none of us have?” Leah asked.

  “Foolish one,” Mirmah told her. “We are fed something in either our food or drink to keep us infertile. It is common practice in the harems of Istanbul. Did none of you know that? The lady India, however, will be given no such cordial. Indeed, she will be fed all manner of delicacies, as will the dey, to encourage them to produce a child. It will be nice to have a baby among us.”

  “If she does not cease her cheerful, mindless prattle,” Samara muttered darkly to Sarai, “I may throttle our little golden bird.”

  India, meanwhile, followed Baba Hassan back to her own quarters. As they entered the apartment, a young girl came forward, and bowed low.