Bedazzled

by Bertrice Small

  It was so hard to think when his body pressed hers so closely and his lips did such delicious things to her senses. “I didn’t like running away,” she admitted. “It seemed so precipitous, but Papa was so obdurate in his opposition to Adrian. Now, I think, that might have had more to do with encouraging my hasty actions than any love I felt for Adrian. I realized as we traveled that while the adventure was exciting, perhaps we were being dishonest. I should have not allowed Adrian to push me to such an abrupt act. I have only hurt those I love best,” India concluded.

  “But had you not run away, I should not have made you mine,” he murmured softly, his tongue pushing into her ear to tease it.

  “No,” she whispered. “Ahhhh, my lord, you are growing hard inside me!” She trembled against him. “How can this be?”

  “Be quiet, little fool, and let me love you,” he growled at her. “You arouse me as no female ever has.” He began to move upon her.

  Oh, God! This love was so powerful a thing, India thought, as she felt his length begin to slowly piston her afresh. Her eyes closed once more, and her breathing became shallow as he pleasured her a second time. She could actually feel him within her. Hard, and throbbing with heat. If she had only known, India considered muzzily, she never should have resisted him for so long. She felt so safe in his arms. She trusted him entirely, although she didn’t understand why. She soared with the waves of hot delight beginning to wash over her as he moved within her fevered body.

  “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “You are my precious one; my adorable and adored wife, India. I worship you with my body.”

  “I love you, my lord Caynan,” she murmured back. “I have never known such happiness as I know now in your arms. Give me your son, my dearest lord. Give me your son!”

  Their deep passion finally overcame them as they fell from the peak together. They tumbled into sleep, limbs tangled, breathing even, she curled against him, his arm protectively over her in a sweetly possessive gesture; and they slept until almost dawn when the dey awoke.

  He looked at the girl lying against his chest. Give me your son, she had cried out to him in her ardor. Allah, he had emptied himself twice that night into the recesses of her secret garden. He very much wanted to grant her request of him. For the first time in his life he knew he did indeed want children. He had not wanted them with other women, and none of his harem women had ever made such a demand of him. He sighed.

  If this had been England he would have offered properly for Lady India Lindley and not rested until she was his wife. Their first son would have been a future earl of Oxton. But this was not England; this was El Sinut, and his first son would be in constant danger from outside forces because his father was the dey. Still, if he could get the sultan to grant him his office in perpetuity, the child would be his heir. He must do the sultan some great service while the boy was yet young, or yet unborn. The valideh was known to dote on her lad and would be generous, Caynan Reis had not a doubt.

  It was not such an unusual request. Deyships had been created in the past that continued forever, provided the family was loyal. He smiled in the dusk of predawn. He did not even know if his efforts had made his young wife fruitful. He must continue to labor until she showed the signs of being with child. It was not a difficult assignment.

  Caynan Reis suddenly realized he was the happiest of men. A month passed, and then two. Aruj Agha had left the morning following the dey’s marriage for another voyage. Now he had returned, and would be in port for some weeks seeing to much-needed repairs on his vessel. His English navigator, Osman, would be working with a crew made up of both Europeans and citizens of El Sinut on his former vessel, teaching the Arabs how to sail and man such a complicated ship. They went no farther than the outer harbor for the present as the Europeans were in a distinct minority aboard the Royal Charles, now renamed, the Sultan Murat.

  “I have never known you to be so content,” the janissary captain teased his friend one day as they shared Turkish coffee and the water pipe. “I would not have thought Caynan Reis vulnerable to love.”

  “All men are susceptible to love,” the dey told him with an easy laugh. “Even Aruj Agha. One day you will find the right woman, my friend.”

  “Once there was a woman I loved,” came the surprising admission, “but it was not to be. Besides, in my position, a wife is a liability. In earlier times, in the days of Sultan Selim I and his son, Suleiman, janissaries were not allowed to wed. It was better that way, I think. A man who worries about his wife and offspring is too cautious in battle. Caution does not win victories. Wars are won by those who are unafraid of what they might lose. Those who do not fear death. A man with a wife worries as to her fate if he dies. I am better without a mate.”

  “Do you not want sons?” the dey asked him.

  “I’m certain I’ve fathered a few in my time, although I cannot be really certain,” Aruj Agha said genially.

  The chief eunuch entered the chamber, bowing to his master. “There is a visitor from Istanbul to see you, my lord,” he said.

  “Can it not wait until the general audience tomorrow, Baba Hassan?” Caynan Reis asked.

  “I fear not, my lord,” the chief eunuch replied.

  “I will leave you, my friend,” Aruj Agha said.

  “Nay,” Caynan Reis told him. “You are the captain of the janissaries here in El Sinut. A visitor from Istanbul who would speak privily with me should be heard by you as well. I trust few men as I trust you. Show the man in, Baba Hassan. I will receive him now.”

  The eunuch bowed, his face offering no emotion. A moment later, he returned with a tall, obviously battled-hardened man with the enormous mustachios of a traditional janissary, who made immediate and respectful obeisance to the dey.

  Caynan Reis acknowledged the gesture, and said, “Speak.”

  “My lord, you have a guest. What I have to say is for your ears alone,” his visitor said.

  “This is Aruj Agha, captain of the janissaries here. Whatever you have to say to me can be said before him,” the dey replied.

  “You support the janissaries then, my lord?” came the question.

  “I support all who wish our lord, Sultan Murat, may he live a thousand years, well, and serve to keep his peace,” was the clever reply.

  His visitor smiled. “I bring you greetings, my lord dey, from the court of the janissaries. I am Hussein Aga of the corps. The matter I have come to discuss is a delicate one. Do I have your word you will not repeat to any what is spoken here this day?”

  Caynan Reis nodded. “Speak,” he said.

  “My lord, the sultan is young. A mere boy who will not rule for himself for several years to come. We are governed by a woman, the valideh. Such a thing is not to be tolerated. Her influence must be purged from the palace, from the empire.”

  “And how is this to be done?” the dey asked dryly. “Will you murder this woman, and then rule for the sultan in her place?”

  “It is more complex than that, my lord. Sultan Murat loves his mother well. He cannot really be separated from her. It is better that he not rule any longer, but rather be disposed of with his parent.”

  The dey stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And who would you place upon the throne of the Ottoman, Hussein Aga? One of the poor incompetent elderly princes who has been housed a lifetime in the Cage? The advantage of this sultan is that he has not been in the Cage long enough to be spoiled, or go mad. Who will you put in his stead?”

  “There are two younger brothers,” was the immediate reply.

  “You would have to murder one of those children, too, lest someone else, some other faction, use that boy in yet another revolt,” the dey said in practical tones. “I suppose you could kill the next eldest, and place an infant upon the throne, thereby guaranteeing the janissaries a long rule, eh? How old is the youngest? Four? Five?”

  “Such matters are for the corps to decide,” Hussein Aga said stiffly.

  “Why come to me then?” Caynan R
eis demanded. “I am the dey of the smallest of the Barbary States. I have no power other than that given me by the sultan, and it does not extend beyond my borders. What do you want of me, Hussein Aga?”

  “Your support in this matter,” the agent of the janissaries replied. “Give us your loyalty. We will make you autonomous in El Sinut. You will be freed from tribute in perpetuity. Would you not like your son to inherit this little kingdom of yours?”

  “I have no son,” the dey said quietly.

  “But you are a young man, and you could have sons. When El Sinut is yours, you can free your harem women from the draught they are fed to keep them sterile. You might be the patriarch of many in time, my lord dey,” Hussein Aga tempted him. Then he smiled, reminding Caynan Reis of a ferret he had possessed as a boy.

  “Have you spoken to the deys of the larger states?” Caynan Reis asked his visitor.

  “You are the first, my lord,” was the response.

  Again the dey stroked his elegant, short barbered black beard as if he were giving great consideration to Hussein Aga’s words. Then he spoke once again. “As the smallest kingdom, I have more to lose than the others, Hussein Aga. What if I agree to join you in your revolt, and the others do not? Both Algiers and Tunis have been seeking to annex El Sinut for years. I have recently taken a wife. I would not see her widowed and given to another man because I did not show caution. No. I will only consider joining you if the others agree first. If you fail, an example will be made. El Sinut might be considered expendable by Istanbul. I must protect my people. Understand, I care not who rules the empire as long as I am left in peace to do my duty to that ruler and oversee the well-being of El Sinut. I am not saying I will not join you, just that I would be reassured my more powerful and wealthier neighbors will be part of your scheme. When you can bring me that assurance, then I will give you my answer, Hussein Aga. The mouse is wise to look to the cat, eh?” Caynan Reis smiled in friendly fashion.

  “I appreciate your candor, my lord dey, and I perfectly understand your position,” was the silky reply. “I shall leave tomorrow for Algiers, Tunis, and Morocco.”

  “But tonight,” the dey said genially, “I insist that you be my guest.” He clapped his hands, and Baba Hassan was by his side.

  “My lord?”

  “Have Abu kill a lamb, and make a feast for our noble guest, Baba Hassan.” The dey turned to the janissary. “You will stay with us, of course, in the janissary barracks here within the palace walls?”

  Hussein Aga bowed his acceptance.

  “Aruj Agha, my friend, take our visitor to the baths, and see he is made comfortable. Baba Hassan will provide you with fresh clothing for this evening, and see that your travel-worn garments are cleaned and freshened for your departure tomorrow,” Caynan Reis said jovially.

  Again the agent from Istanbul bowed. “You are a gracious host, my lord dey. I shall remember it.”

  The two janissaries left the dey’s private chamber escorted by the chief eunuch. Caynan Reis sat alone contemplating what had just transpired. The ever-resourceful Baba Hassan had told him but two days ago of the impending arrival of this agent. The chief eunuch had built up over the years an invaluable network of informants that stretched all the way from El Sinut to Istanbul; from Algiers to Damascus. Whatever was important, Baba Hassan knew in advance. The eunuch was a man of great talents, and deserved a larger venue, but I am glad he is mine, Caynan Reis thought.

  When he had learned of the plot against the sultan he had spoken of it to India as they lay together, sated with their passion. She had been circumspect in her counsel, advising him to prudence and asking, “Has this young sultan been a bad sultan, my lord?” The dey had told his wife that their boy overlord was ruled by his mother, who so far had proven wise in her judgments and recommendations. The empire was calm and prosperous right now.

  “I would avoid committing myself, my lord Caynan,” India said. “I think it dangerous, and has any revolt ever executed by the janissaries succeeded? Avoid giving your loyalty to these traitors.”

  He had agreed with her, and told both Azura and his chief eunuch that he thought his wife very wise for one so young and beautiful. Now, however, he realized upon consideration that he had been offered an opportunity to gain the right to have his firstborn son inherit El Sinut one day. If he could reveal the plot against the sultan to the valideh before it could be enacted, would not the sultan’s mother be grateful? Caynan Reis smiled, well pleased.

  Chapter 13

  “I do not like Caynan Reis,” Hussein Aga said to Aruj Agha as they lounged in the heated bathing pool. He spoke Turkish.

  “Why?” the younger janissary captain asked the visitor from Istanbul. “He is a good public servant, and very loyal.” He answered his superior in Turkish, the language he had learned as a child, the language of the corps of janissaries.

  “He is too clever by far, telling me to go to the other deys and then return to him. I do not trust him. He does not mean to support us. Those who do not support us are our enemies.”

  Slaves bustled about the two men in the bath, preparing the massage benches for the bathers, bringing heated towels for them.

  “It is his way to be cautious,” Aruj Agha defended Caynan Reis. “I have known him for ten years now. Not once have I known him to act dishonorably. What you have offered him—freedom from tribute, El Sinut for himself and his heirs—is an irresistible temptation. He has, only several months ago, taken his first wife. He will want the security you offer for his sons, but his is a little state. For years, his larger neighbors have hovered like vultures in the desert, seeking to annex El Sinut for themselves. It makes Caynan Reis a careful man.”

  “Why in Allah’s name would anyone want this remote piece of earth,” Hussein Aga demanded scathingly.

  “El Sinut has the finest deep-water harbor along the Barbary coast. That is why our tribute to Istanbul has surpassed that of Algiers and Tunis. And beyond the city are date orchards whose harvests exceed any in the region. The dates are plumper and sweeter than others. It is the soil, I am told. And we have salt mines, as well as a famous mineral spring at the Star Oasis where the wealthy from all over the east—even from as far as Damascus—come to be cured,” Aruj Agha said.

  “I was not aware of how prosperous an area this is,” Hussein Aga replied more thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right, and I am seeing jiins where there are none. Certainly your friendship with this petty dey is not to be discounted. I was impressed that he insisted you remain when I asked to speak to him alone. It shows a certain respect for the corps of janissaries.”

  “He has always worked with us, Hussein Aga, and, frankly, he has been more than generous with the wealth we collect on our voyages. Are you aware that he even sends one ship of tribute to the corps each year, and has since he succeeded the previous dey, Sharif.”

  “That is why I was sent here first,” Hussein Aga said. “It was believed Caynan Reis was a friend to us who could be trusted.”

  “He can be!” the younger man swore. “I would stake my own life upon it. Certainly you now understand his discretion.”

  “I will accept your word in this matter,” Hussein Aga replied. “I know you for an honorable man. I remember you as a boy in the prince’s school, and I know your uncle, who is one of our leaders. But remember, Aruj Agha. If this dey betrays us in any way, it will be your duty to kill him. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “I hear, and obey,” was the simple reply.

  “Good! Good! Now, do you think you can find me a pretty girl to make my evening complete. Surely a young man as yourself knows a number of pretty girls,” the older janissary chuckled.

  “She will be eagerly waiting for you in your quarters after we have dined with the dey this evening,” Aruj Agha said with a smile.

  The two men exited the bathing pool to be enveloped in warm towels by the bath slaves. They were dried and massaged, and then dressed in clean clothing. Together they departed the baths to s
troll in the palace’s public gardens before the evening meal was to be served.

  Baba Hassan watched them briefly from his high window, and then turned to receive the mistress of the baths. “You have information for me, Oma?”

  “Not I, my lord, but Refet.” She drew forward a slight young girl, who had been almost hidden behind the bath mistress.

  “Speak then, my child,” Baba Hassan said in kindly tones to Refet, who looked half terrified to be in the august presence of the chief eunuch of the dey’s palace.

  “I am Turkish,” the girl began. “The two janissaries spoke in that tongue, for it is their natural language. The older one does not trust the dey because he will not give him an allegiance, but Aruj Agha swore the dey could be trusted, thereby soothing the other man’s fears. Nonetheless, the visitor told Aruj Agha that if the dey betrays them, Aruj Agha must kill the dey. He agreed. Then the older man asked for a woman for his bed tonight. That is all, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Baba Hassan said, and dismissed the two from his presence. Then he sat down to consider what he would do. Of course the woman who pleasured their visitor must be carefully chosen. As the dey was little interested in his harem currently, perhaps he would allow two of his own women to entertain the two janissaries. India, of course, could not be part of the evening, but Samara would be happy to be at the dey’s side. And sweet Mirmah, who had once belonged to Aruj Agha, would be his again for this night. The passionate flame-haired Sarai would certainly please Hussein Aga. Who knew what information the clever Sarai might extract from this man in the throes of passion.

  Baba Hassan arose, and went to his master. The dey was with his wife, and it was obvious they had recently made love. The chief eunuch bowed low, hiding a smile. Then he told the dey what the bath attendant had overheard and the plan he had devised for the evening. “It is better, my lord, that the two women with the janissaries be those we can trust. If, however, you do not choose to share these two women from your own harem, then I shall send for two skilled courtesans from the town who I know are loyal.”