Most of men came for other reasons, and not least was the prospect of watching their favorite belly dancer, who had arrived from Cairo the night before, to perform here at this prestigious house of pleasure. Later other forms of entertainment would be provided, and some of the crowd were eager to experience those as well.
Captain Joseph Clément and Lieutenant Alain Lefevre arrived an hour after sunset.
“I hope we are not late for the show!” Lefevre said, as the door was opened for them.
“The show is about to begin, gentlemen. Please enter and you will be shown a seat,” the unctuous servant standing on the steps to the main entrance stated in good French, having overheard them, and he led the way into the well-lighted foyer. They walked on past the heavyset, intimidating guards standing on either side of an arched doorway and into a large, low-roofed room full of people. The vast majority were Frenchmen in uniform. All were conversing in loud voices, well lubricated by wine and spirits by this time. The warm air was thick with pipe smoke. At the far end of the room was a low stage with a curtain drawn across, unoccupied. There was an air of expectancy that crackled in the room.
The two men found a small table near to the back of the room — the tables at the front were all taken by more senior officers — and ordered a bottle of wine. Then they sat back to watch. The wine arrived just as some reedy music began behind the curtain, which was now drawn slowly back to reveal a small group of musicians seated on the back left-hand corner of there stage. Without preamble they began to play. The musicians continued playing their pipes and stringed instruments while the audience fidgeted and drank more wine. The thin reedy music had no appeal to Captain Clément, who favored his own nation’s music above all others.
He leaned over to his Sergeant. “How do they play such horrible music?” he asked.
Lefevre wiped his enormous mustaches and laughed. “My Captain, no one is going to pay attention to the music once the show gets started. I saw her in in Cairo, she is quite something. Be patient, it’ll get better.”
Clément sipped the wine with caution. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected. It at least matched the wine they had found in Cairo, which could be described as reasonable cooking wine. He relaxed and watched the stage like every other man in the house.
She slipped onto the stage like a wraith. There was no introduction; the music gave only the slightest clue with a few rapid finger taps on a tiny drum and there she was in front of the expectant audience. The response was immediate: they cheered and clapped applauding her for simply being there. Some men even stood up and cheered, clapping furiously. Others shouted at them to sit down as they could not see. The dancer stood with her long legs slightly apart and her arms held outwards.
Back in the wings, observing the electric effect that his Fatima had upon the audience, Danush gave a small smile of satisfaction. Business would be brisk later on.
Meanwhile, Fatima had begun. The colors she wore were of shimmering turquoise with silver threads and glittering pearl buttons sewn into the fabric which reflected the light of the lamps, a ring of sparkling light about her waist. She was clad only in an alluring separate top which displayed her naked midriff almost to her mons, and the bright paste diamond in her belly button glittered in the lamplight. Her well developed breasts were held captive in sequined silk and nothing more. She wore an ankle-length, flowing skirt that was divided all the way up to her hips to the briefest of sequined pants that in turn displayed her long thighs as far up as her well-fleshed bottom. Around her waist was a thin belt with silver decorations that held colored beads, while fine gold bracelets clinked on her wrists and ankles.
From her elbows to her wrists she wore fine decorated lace and filigree silver threads. Her right hand was tied with a gold thread to the bottom of one trailing length of her split gossamer dress that flowed about her as she moved her hand.
On her head she wore a transparent veil held in place on her rich flowing, ebony hair by a small round hairpiece, richly sewn. The veil did little to hide the dusky, oval features of a very beautiful woman with large, sensual lips and huge eyes. She was a very wild and sexually captivating creature who smiled with white teeth in appreciation of the applause.
Already in motion, her tiny feet, which were encased in turquoise slippers of the finest doeskin, were never still. There was a hush from the men who were enraptured by this vision that had appeared before them so suddenly, and the swaying and undulation of her hips hypnotized the entire audience. She effortlessly caused her dress to swirl about her thighs, accentuating her long and shapely legs; the crowd loved it and tapped the tables with their fingers to keep time.
“Dieu, Dieu!” sighed Lefevre. “I swear I have died and gone to heaven!”
The music, which had never stopped, began to very slowly increase in tempo, drawing out the moment. As she danced, the drum became more insistent and the girl in front of them matched the musicians beat for beat. Her entire figure was in motion as, with the music, slowly at first, she undulated her belly and hips, and then her upper body seemingly independently of her waist, upon which most men’s eyes were riveted.
One moment her hips were undulating towards the sweating men while her torso was thrown back at an almost impossible angle and her breasts were vibrating, then she spun away to present her back and her buttocks teased the gasping audience. Around she twirled, and then it was her torso which held them riveted with their mouths drooling.
“How does she do it?” Lefevre breathed, unheard in the noise. “How can anyone move their backbone like that?”
“I can’t take my eyes off her legs!” exclaimed someone at the next table. “No one can have legs that long!”
“No one has a bottom like that!” shouted another.
“I’m going to have an attack of the heart if this goes on much longer!” yet another wag shouted.
One moment her breasts were jiggling at the wildly excited crowd before her, and the next her lower body was in motion in what could not be anything other than a blatant sexual invitation, the bright paste diamond in her belly button winking lewdly at the sex-starved crowd of soldiers below her.
The music wailed ever louder, with the beat of the finger drum becoming more frantic as the tension built and the girl on the stage appeared to vibrate into a frenzy of motion, her dress flying around her in shimmering waves. At just the moment when every eye was locked on this whirling vision of light and motion, the music stopped, the lamps were extinguished and the curtain was quickly drawn closed to hide the stage. The girl was gone, leaving the audience gasping, sweating and rampant. There was a long stunned silence, but then the crowd erupted into applause, clapping, whistling and shouting for the dancer to come back.
That was not to be. The lamps around the room were relit or their flames turned up to display the dazed audience of officers and NCOs, most with the collars and buttons of their tunics undone and their hats lying on the tables alongside the empty bottles of wine.
The men were excited and had a sense of being left hanging, but the waiters were moving around with cool efficiency offering more wine and spirits to thirsty men.
“Come on. It’s time to leave before someone starts a fight,” Captain Clément stated and got up.
He was none too soon, as a group of men near to the stage began to shout at one another and before long fists were flying. The group of men surged back and forth, some trying to restrain others who simply wanted to hit someone, something, anything to relieve the tension that had built up in them.
The two men pushed their way towards the exit while more and more men rushed towards the fighting mass of shouting and yelling men. Men fell crashing against wooden tables, which collapsed under them. Just as they were leaving Clément glanced back and saw the two black giants wading in among the fighting men, tossing them aside as though they were wooden toys as they headed for the center of the fight.
“It always amazes me the power of a woman! There will be some broken heads tonight
!” He laughed as he followed his companions out into the darkness.
“I don’t want to be anywhere near here when the night patrol arrives,” Lefevre stated. “We are on furlough for two evenings and I want to enjoy them both. For sure I am coming back tomorrow!”
His amused companion agreed, and they put as much distance between themselves and the house of pleasure as they could.
Meanwhile, in the brothel some of the soldiers had escaped from the clutches of the servants and the two giants, and were now roaming. A few even managed to make it up to the third floor.
Chapter 26
Chivalry
Duncan had spent the best part of the evening by himself in the women’s quarters having been told to stay there by Leilah and under no circumstances to leave. He was bored and the cloying scents of the room had given him a headache, so he wandered about the place restlessly, idly inspecting the room. There was nothing to do and he wondered where Williams might be.
Then he heard the muted sound of music far below and the roars of the appreciative crowd. His curiosity got the better of him.
“God dammit I’m going out of my mind sitting here!” he muttered. But he remembered to check himself at the mirror on the door before he slipped out, satisfied by the image of a well-proportioned, auburn-haired woman with bright red lips.
“See yew, ye pretty bitch!” he preened placing his right hand behind his head and the other on his hip which he wiggled with a cackle at the absurdity of the image. He was by now somewhat familiar with the corridors and eventually found himself standing on the verandah overlooking the now dark gardens below.
Then the music stopped, leaving an abrupt silence, followed by a roar that shook the house, after which he could hear shouts and then crashes and more shouts. He was just about to hurry away, fearing that the noise might bring unwelcome persons to where he was standing, when there were hurried footsteps outside and an apparition appeared at the entrance to the room. A lightly-veiled woman of extraordinary beauty pushed through the curtains with an exclamation of annoyance, looking behind her as she entered.
She turned and faced Duncan and exclaimed again in surprise but also relief at seeing another person in the room. She hurried further into the room, all the while studying him with a slightly puzzled expression on her face, and said something that sounded like a question. She spoke again in Arabic and lifted her veil. Duncan realized with a shock that not only was he staring at a scantily-clad woman in a stunning costume but that she was talking to him and appeared to assume he was a woman too. He began to stutter a reply in French when another person appeared at the entrance.
This time it was a French soldier. “Ah-hah! There you are, my darling beauty!” he called out, then he noticed it was not one but two women standing near to one another by the verandah.
“By God! Have I found the harem at last? The belly dancing angel, my God! Oh, my angel! I’ve been wandering these corridors forever and now at last I have found you!” he staggered towards them, twirling his huge waxed mustache and reached for the flap on his pants.
“Two-in-one! Who will be first for Captain Kermaret?” he cackled as he came towards them.
The girl shrank from his approach with a cry of alarm. barely realizing it, she had almost fallen into Duncan’s arms.
Without thinking, Duncan reached forward, pulled the girl closer and then pushed her behind him after which he took a step forward.
“Hah! So Blondie wants it first, eh? Fantastic. But you,” he pointed to the girl, “don’t go away. There’s a lot of stamina left in this old warrior.” The officer fumbled some more with his trousers, almost tripping over his sword as he stumbled the last few yards.
Duncan seized his chance. He took one more step forward and launched a punch from the waist. It landed exactly where he had hoped, on the side of the man’s lower jaw. It was a wicked blow that carried with it all the humiliation and pent-up anger the boy had had to endure for the last two days. There was an audible crack as his fist connected and it threw the soldier backwards to crash in an untidy heap on the floor.
“Bugger, that hurt!” Duncan cried out loud and flapped his hand, which hurt like hell. The midshipman stepped forward to check on his victim, but the man was out cold. He became aware of another disturbance, but this time it came from the girl, staring at him with her hands over her lower face with a look of shock on her face. She appeared to be on the verge of hysterics.
“Oh bugger, no!” Duncan groaned. He reached for her, but she shrank back from him, her eyes wide with surprise and not a little fear as she stared at him. He had time to note that although she had lovely features her nose was just a little too big.
Several of the girls appeared at the entrance to the room and ran to join the girl, all chattering at once and commiserating with her, as she pointed at the Frenchman lying on the floor and then at Duncan, speaking in choking Arabic all the while, after which she began to weep. Leilah appeared at the entrance and rushed up to Duncan, almost tripping over the fallen soldier at his feet.
“Oh, merde!” she exclaimed as she looked down on the man.
“What are you doing ’ere, Jasmine?” she demanded of Duncan, her gray eyes wide. They flicked to the dancer with a question for the other girls, who shook their heads and went back to consoling the weeping dancer and turning her away from Duncan. She held up an imperious hand for silence and the excited babble ceased. Then she asked, “What is ’e doing ’ere?” she demanded of Duncan in a hushed tone, pointing at the Frenchman.
“I… er, he was… er, going to attack the girl over there. I… um, had to protect her,” Duncan mumbled, stumbling for the words.
She was clearly furious with him. “You go back to the room, right now, Dunkin or I am in trouble! I see you later,” she ordered, and pointed to the door.
Duncan slunk off, leaving a hysterical belly dancer and her consoling companions behind, and the unconscious soldier still lying on the floor.
His travails were not over this evening, however. He had just arrived at the stairway leading up to the top floor where the girls lived when two French soldiers appeared at the other end of the corridor and, spotting Graham in his disguise, gave a shout and began to give chase.
With a startled look at the two men running towards him, shouting with glee at having found a woman in the labyrinth of rooms and floors, Graham took off. It occurred to him to go upwards but he realized instinctively that this would lead the two drunken soldiers to the wrong place, so he took a chance and headed down the stairs.
This proved to be a mistake, as he had no idea where he was going, and the two soldiers, now decidedly excited by the chase of a blonde woman, were rapidly gaining on him. He sped down the steps and took a blind right into a narrow corridor along which he raced. One of the soldiers was faster than the other and caught up with Graham, grabbing for his shoulder. Duncan wrenched himself away, but in the process the soldier tore his blouse.
The two of them crashed through a thick dark leather curtain to collapse onto the stage that had been the center of entertainment only a few minutes before.
The officers and men who had been scuffling and milling on the main floor caught sight of the two figures on the stage and, thinking that there was anther act coming, cheered wildly and began to separate themselves in the expectation of a show. It didn’t seem to occur to any of them that it might be somewhat incongruous to see a French soldier on stage.
For his part, after an appalled and wild-eyed look at the crowd below, clutching his now badly torn blouse and trying to avoid the very amorous advances of not only the first but also the second soldier, Duncan did the only thing he could think of. He kicked the first in the crotch and punched the second hard on the nose, just as he was leaning down to reach under Duncan’s dress. The two men collapsed amid the cheers and shouts of laughter from the inebriated audience. The light was minimal, so it was not entirely clear to the audience what was really going on, but the comical way the two soldiers
tumbled to the floor having been beaten by a good looking blonde woman defending her honor was great entertainment for all.
Duncan didn’t wait to see what would happen next. He hurled himself off the stage and dived into the darkness beyond. Stumbling and gasping, he eventually found the stairs and his way back to the women’s living chamber. He tumbled into Leilah’s alcove, where he sat panting and thought about his predicament while he rubbed his knuckles. He glowered. At least he had knocked a couple of Frenchies down, he consoled himself. “Hah! Take that!” he muttered, reliving the moment, but soon he began to worry about what might be going on below. The noise coming from the theater was very loud as the confused audience clamored for more and the equally bewildered staff of the house tried to appease the two wounded soldiers and placate the drunken and destructive audience.
An hour later, Duncan heard female voices at the door, which opened and Leilah entered alone. She said something to another outside, then closed the door. Turning she noticed the disconsolate Duncan still seated on the bed.
“Ah, you are there, Dunkin! I am glad you are safe, for that means I am safe too.” She smiled at the confused boy. “It seems that you are an ‘ero for saving Fatima,” she said with a dimple. “But they are saying that a woman attacked two of the French soldiers down in the area of the theater. You were not there, were you?” She asked with a frown. “You came back ‘ere, did you not? My, but those soldiers are so violent! They break all the furniture! Danush is furious!”
“Hero?” he queried, even more confused. “Er, yes, been here all the time.” He tried to look innocent.
Leilah was not paying much attention. “Fatima told us all about it. She said you are so brave. She still is not aware that you are not a woman.” Leilah chuckled mischievously.
“Impossible!” Duncan said with a tentative grin.
She began to laugh. “No indeed, she did not hear what we said, she was crying so hard, nor did the other girls let her into the secret. She thinks that a strong blonde girl came to her aid and knocked down the Frenchman. She is very impressed.” Leilah gave him an arch look from under her brows as she smiled.
Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir Page 19