“Besma!”
“Yes,” replied the prince. “We are to meet Hadji Bey at the house of David ben Kira in Constantinople. David deals discreetly in slaves for persons of importance. I shall purchase a bodyguard and a food taster.”
“But why do you need me, my lord? You take a terrible chance. If word of this escapade should reach the wrong ears, there would be a terrible scandal.”
“I want to buy Cyra a very special gift, Firousi. I need you to help me pick it out, since you, as a woman, know her tastes perhaps better than L Dressed as a boy, you will attract little attention.”
“I don’t know whether I shall ever get this brown stain off my skin, my lord.”
“If your slaves have no luck, my little jewel, we shall try together in a few nights’ time, eh?”
Firousi was shocked. “But Cyra—” she began.
“Cyra understands that the sooner I take another ikbal, the less painful it will be for her. I do not wish to cause her pain.” He eyed the girl beside him. She was well disguised. The brown stain covered her skin, her hair was hidden beneath the turban, and her generous breasts were bound flat beneath a tight layer of cloth. “You are most beautiful, my dear. I begin to anticipate the conclusion of our business.” Firousi, eyeing him tremulously from beneath her lashes, did not reply.
Riding all day, they camped outside the city that night, and after the dawn prayers, they rode on into the Jewish quarter. Dismounting before the house of David ben Kira, Selim warned the girl, “Speak little, and call me master.” She nodded.
They were greeted by David ben Kira himself. He bowed. “You do my poor house great honor, Prince Selim. Please come this way. The agha kislar awaits you in my private quarters.”
Hadji Bey rose as they entered the room. “Selim, my son! You are looking well. Now, why this urgency to buy new slaves? Have I not provided your palace with enough servants?”
“Cyra did not tell you?”
“Her note simply stated you wished to purchase a bodyguard and a food taster and you needed my help.”
“Caution again,” said Selim. “I can learn much from her,” he mused. “Cyra is with child, my old friend. When word reaches Besma—and Cyra assures me it will—my father’s evil kadin may be tempted to act rashly. It will not please her, with Ahmed childless, to have me become a father.”
“Your good fortune delights me, and your precautions show wisdom.” Turning to David ben Kira, he said, “Can you provide us with such slaves?”
“Indeed, yes, my lord agha. We have an excellent selection.” He clapped his hands, murmured a few words to the attending servant, and a few minutes later the door of the room opened to admit a dozen young men.
Selim looked them over carefully and found his eye drawn to an enormous dark-brown Negro with close-cropped hair and a rebellious look; but before he could speak, David ben Kira turned to his slavemaster.
“Idiot!”—be pointed at the very slave Selim had noted—“get that wild man out of here! These slaves are for the prince, not some provincial merchant”
“Hold, David. What is wrong with the man? It appears he would suit my purpose quite well.”
“No, Highness. Arslan is flawed in the mind. He has almost killed two masters. I am selling him to the quarries.”
“Step forward,” Selim commanded. The giant stood before him. “Is this true?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Selim noted the intelligent light in the man’s eyes. “Why?”
“Because, my lord, they were cruel masters. I have been a slave since I was five, and I have known nothing but unkindness; but before that I knew tenderness and compassion. I cannot bear to see innocent young girls mistreated because of their fear, or good wives beaten because they are no longer beautiful. If this is a flaw, then I am flawed.”
Selim replied, “I do not mistreat my women, and I do have need of a strong, loyal man to guard with his very life the most precious of jewels—my wife. She is with child.”
“If you will have me, I will watch over her, but if you are cruel, lord, I cannot be responsible for my actions.”
Selim looked to Hadji Bey.
“Trust your instincts, my son.”
The prince nodded, and turned to David ben Kira. “I will take this one. Do not look so fearful, my friend. I need a eunuch such as this. His loyalty will be only to my Cyra, and no one will ever be able to bribe him”
“Very well, my lord. It will be as you say.” He motioned Arslan to the side of the room and waved the other slaves out “Now, my prince. Hadji Bey and I have already chosen a food taster. He is an Egyptian with an incredible ability to ferret out poisons, even those that have no taste. He also has the ability to make you immune to any poison. He is expensive but well worth it”
“Then our business is concluded, David.”
“Ah, but you must not leave without refreshments, my lord. I have a slave girl who makes a sherbet fit for the Prophet himself.” He clapped his hands, and two servant girls entered, one bearing a tray.
The female with the tray, a small, plain creature, stumbled against a low table and cried out, “Lord Lamerey! Tables where footstools should be.”
“Master,” whispered Firousi, “I can think of no better gift for my lady than a female slave who speaks her tongue. It would please her greatly.”
“You are right, lad. David, what price on that girl?”
“That one? Five dinars, my lord, but she is useless. I have been trying to train her as a waitress, but she is as stubborn as a mule, and twice as troublesome.”
“When a woman is troublesome, there is usually a man involved,” remarked Hadji Bey.
“True,” said David, “and in this case it is the girl’s husband. A remarkable young man. He is a scholar, and not only does he speak, read, and write several European tongues, but Turkish and Persian as well. He would be an excellent secretary.”
“How much for the four of them?”
“All four, my lord?”
“I have said it!”
“Let me see now. Fifty dinars for Arslan, my lord. One hundred for the Egyptian. A very special price to you, and I am losing money. One hundred for the secretary, and five for his useless wife. Two hundred and fifty-five gold dinars in all, my lord.”
“One hundred for the Egyptian, David. Twenty-five for Arslan, fifty for the man and his wife. One hundred seventy-five dinars, and I am being generous.”
“My lord! You will drive me into poverty! Two hundred thirty is the lowest I can go.”
“Two hundred is all I will give you.”
“Done!” replied David ben Kira. “I will include a cart and driver to transport them to your palace. Do you want them today, my lord?”
“Yes, but no cart, David. Lend me four horses. One of my slaves will return them to you the next time I come to the city. A cart will slow me down. As it is, I will not get back to my home until late tomorrow.”
David ben Kira arose. “I shall arrange it at once. You will be ready to leave within the half hour.” He motioned to the waiting slaves to follow him and left the room.
“Here, lad,” Selim called to Firousi. “Tell the girl her husband goes, too.”
Firousi walked over to the girl, whose name was Marian, and put a hand on her arm, “Don’t be frightened,” she said kindly. “My master has bought you to serve his wife, and he had also bought your husband to be his secretary. You will see him in a few moments. Now go along with David ben Kira.”
“Thank your master for me,” replied the girl tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I had been separated from Alan, I should have died. If we must be slaves together, we will serve your master well for this kindness.” She lea the room.
Firousi moved back to Selim “It is done, master. The girl is grateful and will give no trouble.”
“You make a charming boy, little turquoise,” remarked Hadji Bey.
“You knew! And I was feeling so pleased to have fooled you!”
“So you
might have, my child, had you not showed me those wonderful eyes.” He turned to Selim. “A very dangerous game, my boy. Why did you bring her disguised thus? If Besma gains knowledge of this, she will use it, you may be sure.”
“I needed her to help me choose a special gift for Cyra, and she did. No one knows but Lady Refet Her absence is concealed by the ruse of a high fever. We are safe.”
“Yes, only one of the harem slaves spies for Besma.”
“Who, Hadji Bey? Give me the name.”
“Selim, Selim. If you know, you will never be able to contain yourself. Believe me, the slave involved holds an unimportant post and can hurt none of the girls.”
“Very well, my friend. You have guided me successfully so far. There is no need for me to doubt your judgment now.”
“Have you taken other ikbals, Selim?”
“No, but when we return to the Moonlight Serai, Firousi will journey down my Golden Road, eh, little page?”
Firousi blushed beneath the brown stain on her cheeks. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered.
“And the others,” continued the agha, “they please you?”
“It’s like being offered a plate of cakes after a fast, my friend. Each is more delectable than the other. The fool gobbles them up quickly, but the wise man savors each in its turn to enjoy the full flavor.”
“Well spoken, Selim, and your choices were excellent, though the Spanish girl still worries me.”
“My sharp-tongued Sarina? She hides a warm heart, Hadji Bey, and Cyra found her weakness immediately. She is clever at making things grow. We have put her in charge of the gardens, which she rules like a benevolent dictator.”
“Good” smiled the agha. “Ah, David ben Kira, we are ready to depart?”
“Yes, my lord. The prince’s new slaves are in the courtyard, mounted and waiting.”
They arose and walked to the courtyard Selim pressed a purse into the Jew’s hand. “Your price—and for you, a small token of my thanks,” he said, holding up a large yellow diamond.
The merchant, gasping, took the stone. “My lord prince—such generosity—if I can ever serve you again—”
“I shall remember, David ben Elira.”
“Well done, my son,” whispered Hadji Bey. “And now,” he said, raising his voice, “I bid you farewell.” He climbed into his litter and raised his hand in salute. Commanding his bearers to go, he disappeared through the courtyard arch.
Led by Prince Selim and his page, the new slaves and the prince’s Tartars quickly left the city behind. They camped that night beside some ancient ruins, and Firousi had time to catch her breath. As her original journey to the Moonlight Serai had taken three days, she was amazed at the speed with which they now traveled. Of course, on her first trip they had taken the main road and were slowed by the vast caravan of slaves, women, and household goods. Yesterday morning they had ridden out of the palace, taken the more direct and rougher road and arrived outside the capital before sunset On their return trip they were again on the more direct road, but their progress was slowed slightly by the presence of the female slave.
Firousi was enjoying this respite from her friends and their more civilized way of life. Raised in the Caucasus Mountains, she had camped beneath the stars many times with her father and brothers. Gazing at the sky, the subdued noise of the camp behind her, she imagined for a moment she was home again. A touch on her shoulder startled her. Turning, she looked into the face of the prince.
“What do you dream of, Firousi?”
“My homeland, my lord. I often camped with my father beneath the night sky.”
“Are you restless in your captivity, my little mountain girl?”
“Perhaps a little, my lord.”
“Soon you will have other interests, and your past with its sad memories will fade away.” He put an arm about her shoulders.
She smiled up at him. “Yes, my lord.”
“Do you love me, Firousi?”
“No, my lord. I do not know you—and perhaps, when I do, I shall still not love you—but I like you. You are a good man and a kind master. I shall, Allah willing, bear your children with pride and always be loyal to you.”
He bent down and gravely kissed her on the forehead. “I can ask no more of you than that, but you will love me, my jewel.”
“Perhaps, my lord.” She laughed up at him. “However, I would suggest we return to camp lest your Tartars obtain the wrong impression about their prince and class you with your brother Ahmed, who, they say, prefers young boys to girls.”
“One day I shall have you whipped for your teasing tongue. You do not show me the proper respect”
‘Yes, my lord,” she replied meekly, but her eyes sparkled merrily at his threat
Selim glowered at her, then laughed, “You are an appallingly impudent maiden.”
Dawn had barely shown itself the next morning when the prince and his companions were on their way. Firousi had dropped back to ride with Marian.
They arrived at their destination shortly after noon. Selim turned his new slaves over to Ali, his chief eunuch. The young English couple presented him with an unusual problem. Married slaves were not a common event, and normal men were not permitted in any other man’s harem, Ali was quick to point out a small cottage near the edge of the gardens which might house the couple. The prince gave orders that the little house be made habitable at once.
“When you are not on duty,” he told his secretary, “you will live here. You will answer to Turkish names. Alan, you will answer to Yussef. Marian, there will be no need to change your name. We have a similar one, so we can pronounce it Yussef will teach you Turkish.”
“I already speak some, my lord. My husband taught me.
“How is this possible?”
“Alan—ah, Yussef, was coming to Turkey to be a clerk in the merchant house of a friend. His father has a small trading business in London and wanted him to learn about the East My husband’s father says future trade of importance will come from the East Yussef began teaching me Turkish months ago, when he knew we would be coming here. My Turkish is not perfected—as you can see, my lord—but since I shall be using it every day, it soon will be.”
“I think I have found a valuable servant in you, Marian. Take good care of my wife, and you will never want for anything.”
“I will, my lord I shall never forget that it was your kindness that kept my husband and me together. Had you not rescued us, we would have been separated”
He dismissed them in a kindly fashion and turned to Firousi. “I shall be sending for you soon, my jewel. Slip in through the secret entrance and see that you get all that stain off. I shall personally inspect your lovely skin myself tonight”
She flushed and fled him. He stood for a moment a smile upon his sensual lips as he thought of the delight his gifts would give his beloved Cyra and the pleasure Firousi would give him now that Cyra could no longer share his bed.
17
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, the women of Selim’s harem gathered together in the main room of their quarters. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows at the end of the room, and in the center of the floor a round, raised open hearth blazed merrily, taking the chill off the late winter’s day.
Lady Refet quietly presided over the women while plying her needle through her ever-present embroidery. Amara and Iris were working together on a woven tapestry. Sarina, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by parchments and pens, pored over plans for their first summer garden. Cyra, Firousi, and Zuleika sat around the hearth playing a word game. Each in turn would point to an object and say its name in Turkish. The other two would have to give the same object its name in another tongue—not their own. The three friends were clever at languages, and in this way increased their knowledge.
Cyra’s heart leaped at the entrance of the prince’s messenger. Then, remembering her condition, she dug her fingernails into her palm. Who would it be? Which one would take her place? His eagerness to take a new
ikbal seemed rather indecent to her, and she felt a twinge of anger run through her.
The messenger stood before Firousi, who flushed, then whitened. “Most fortunate of maidens, I have the honor to inform you that our master, Prince Selim, may he live a thousand years, requests your presence tonight at the ninth hour.”
“I hear and obey,” replied the blond girl in a shaking voice.
The messenger bowed and left the room Their chatter stilled, the other girls looked from Cyra to Firousi and back again. Sarina broke the silence.
“So, our lord grows tired of green eyes.”
“But not eager for your yellow ones,” snapped Zuleika, squeezing Cyra’s hand hard. “Your tongue is no less sharp than the bee’s sting.”
Cyra broke the tension. “It is not seemly I go to my lord’s couch now that I carry his son beneath my heart”
Breaking into an excited babble, they rushed to crowd about her.
“Stop!” laughed Cyra. “I cannot answer your questions if you all talk at once.” Immediately they were silent “My son will be born in late summer. I did not tell you before because I wanted to be sure. Then our lord had to be told, and he asked that I keep our secret until he returned from Constantinople.”
Firousi began to weep softly, but Cyra placed an arm about her friend’s shoulders.
“I know what you are thinking, dear sister. Don’t Have you forgotten all we have learned?”
“You do not mind?”
“Of course I mind, but it is our fate. Since our lord Selim must take another, I am happy it is you, rather than some devious stranger who would sow dissension in our household.”
“Then you will forgive me my foolishness?”
“It is already forgotten. Would you like to wear my brocade pelisse tonight? It is almost the color of your eyes and will be most flattering. I will have Fekriye take up the hem for you.”
Firousi nodded, and a little smile played on her lips. “I am a donkey,” she said, “but suddenly I was so afraid.”
Cyra took her friend by the hand and led her to a quiet corner of the room, “Let us sit and talk,” she said, settling herself on some pillows. “You must not be frightened, Firousi. There is no need. Selim is the gentlest and most considerate of lords.”
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