The Love Slave

by Bertrice Small

  Three of the items would be purchased for the Celtic merchant by Karim al Malina in Ifriqiya, thereby saving their transport from Eire. It was also impossible to obtain those particular gifts in Eire. Donal Righ had paid for the hire of the Moor’s entire vessel, including a generous stipend to Karim al Malina’s crew, who would have otherwise shared in the profits of a cargo sold.

  Toward the stern of the ship was the galley, located below the deck and accessible by a ladder from above or below. It was a small room with a tiled roof. For cooking there was a tiled firebox, open in front and set upon a bed of clay and clay fragments. Small iron bars formed a grill. The galley also held a cupboard for tableware. Cooking utensils, cheese in netting, strings of onions and garlic, a bag of apples, and another of flour hung from the narrow rafters. Above the grill was a small shelf holding a bowl of salt and a bowl of saffron. In a small, tight corner was a pen with half a dozen squawking chickens and three ducks.

  There were two stern decks. Upon the forward one had been built the captain’s cabin. It was a simple room with a double bunk, a single bunk, a table, and several chairs. It had only one entrance, and a window that could be shuttered at night or in poor weather.

  Behind the cabin was a smaller deck half shaded by an awning, with chairs that had been set up to give the two women their privacy while allowing them to get fresh air. It would be a small escape from the narrow confines of the little cabin when the weather was good.

  The helm deck was just forward of the galley roof. There were forward and main hatches where the crew might hang their rope hammocks amid the cargo. In the main hatch there was a large table with two benches, so the sailors would have a place to bring their food and eat. Usually Alaeddin ben Omar shared the captain’s cabin, but this voyage both men would sleep with the crew, leaving the single shelter to the two women, who would be under guard at night for their protection.

  Karim al Malina had decided that his ship was no place to practice the arts of a Passion Master. As long as Zaynab and Oma remained segregated from the men, and the crew was aware that the proprieties were being observed, there would be no difficulties. Women were not favored passengers.

  They had a last hour in the baths, and old Erda wept copious tears as she bid the two girls farewell. “What a wonderful future ye have before ye,” she sobbed. “Ahh, to be young and ripe again!”

  “I’m an old man,” Donal Righ said on hearing her words, “and I cannot remember a time when ye were either young or ripe, my faithful Erda.”

  She glowered darkly at her master, and then hugging the girls a final time, said, “God protect ye both, my chicks, and may yer fates be happy ones.” Then Erda shuffled off, muttering about the harshness of her lot in such a household.

  “I’d send her with ye just to be rid of the old crone, except she couldn’t bear to be separated from me,” Donal Righ said gruffly.

  “She is too ancient a soul to make such a change in her life now,” Zaynab said. “If she were nae, I should want her wi’ us. Nae one hae ever treated me wi’ more kindness, Donal Righ, except perhaps yerself.”

  “Humph,” he said, flushing. “Do not flatter yerself, wench. ’Tis yer rare beauty that attracted me to ye. Were ye not the fairest of God’s creatures, I would have sold ye off quick as a wink to some chieftain from the north. Now remember, don’t trust anyone, Zaynab, but yerself and yer own instincts. And don’t disgrace me before the caliph. Yer being trained as a Love Slave, and sent to Abd-al Rahman to bring me more of his favor here at the end of the world. Remember that!”

  “I will, Donal Righ,” she promised him. Then she kissed his cheek quickly before turning away and hurrying from the room with Oma.

  Donal Righ touched the place where her soft lips had rested but momentarily, then, all business, he turned back to Karim al Malina. “Ye’ve the gold to buy the horses and the camels as well as enough to outfit her like a princess. She is not to go to the caliph in beggarly fashion, but rather like a bride from a wealthy family. What I have set aside for ye, son of my old friend, is not enough to repay ye for what ye are doing, but now I am in yer debt, Karim al Malina. Ye know that I shall expend all my resources, if necessary, to repay that debt. May the seas be kind to ye, and the winds swiftly take ye home.”

  The two men shook hands and went their separate ways.

  I’timad sailed from Dublin on the morning tide, gliding down the river Liffey and out into the open sea, where she was met with gentle swells and a good wind that filled her lateen rigging with deep breaths. For a while the misty hills of Eire remained in their view. No ship strayed far out to sea for any extended period of time, fearing storms or sea serpents. Only the Norsemen were that daring. No Moor wanted to be caught far from land, for they were originally men of the desert, and it was yet strong in their blood.

  I’timad sailed south from Dublin, then around the place the Britons called Land’s End. Across the open water she tacked, slipping between the island of Ushant and the coast of Brittany. The late summer days remained remarkably fair. As the weather gave no indication of changing, Karim al Malina charted a course directly across the Bay of Biscay, a large body of water not usually noted for its benign seas. They tracked from Pont de Penmarc’h on the southern coast of Brittany around to Cape Finistère.

  Carefully, they skirted the busy shipping lanes along a coastline belonging to the Christian kingdom of Leon, passed the coast that formed a frontier zone between Leon and the Muslim south, and finally sailed into the waters belonging to the land of al-Andalus. Still, amazingly, the weather held. So once again Karim routed his vessel across the stretch of open sea known as the Gulf of Cadiz to the city-state of Alcazaba Malina on the Atlantic coast of Ifhqiya, fifty miles south of Tanja, which was located on the Straits of Jibal Tarik. Zaynab had asked him about his name as they voyaged. His full name, he had explained, was Karim ibn Habib al-Malina. “Ibn Habib, son of Habib,” he said.

  The voyage had been filled with lessons of a different kind than she had been used to receiving from him. Each day he had spent two hours with both young women, teaching them to speak Arabic. To everyone’s surprise, it was Oma who seemed to have the knack for learning another language. Zaynab struggled with the intricacies of the foreign tongue, and with Oma’s help finally mastered it. She found Romance, the second of the new idioms she must learn, far easier.

  It was the dawn of a new day when they finally reached Alcazaba Malina. The wind had practically died away entirely, and the seas about the vessel were dark and calm. The rising sun gilded the pure white marble city, slipping across the buildings, banishing the dark shadows with pure light. Alcazaba Malina was surrounded entirely by walls, including its harbor area, a natural deep-water port in the shape of a crescent moon. On each side of the bay there were lighthouses. It was the job of the keepers not only to indicate the entrance to the harbor with their lights but also to raise and lower the chain-mail net that was stretched across its entry as a first line of defense.

  Zaynab and Oma stood openmouthed at the ship’s rail. They had been at sea for several long weeks, but nothing, not even what Karim al Malina and Alaeddin ben Omar had told them, prepared them for the sight that now appeared before their eyes.

  “If Dublin was a city, then what be this?” Zaynab asked, awed. She spoke in Arabic now. Both girls did, for it was, they had discovered, the only way to really learn the difficult language. Only one hour each day did they revert to their own Celtic tongue, in order not to forget it. Zaynab felt it would be a way of communicating in the harem impossible for anyone else to understand. Such an asset would be invaluable.

  “It is a magic place, I think,” Oma answered her mistress, eyes wide. “I never thought to see such a place.”

  “I never even imagined such a place existed,” Zaynab rejoined. “They surely would not believe it back at Ben MacDui.”

  Karim al Malina came to stand between them. “The city was founded over one hundred and fifty years ago by an Arab warrior, Karim ibn
Malik, who was loyal to the Umayyad caliph in Damascus. Sixty-five years afterward, the Umayyads were driven out of Syria, the family massacred, exterminated in a wholesale slaughter but for one prince who escaped. He was Abd-al Rahman, the first of that name,” Karim told them. “The rulers of this city have always been loyal to the Umayyads, but I shall teach you their history later on, Zaynab.”

  “Will we live in this beautiful place?” she asked him, her face turned up to his.

  Tonight, he thought. Tonight I shall possess her again. It has been too long. “Nay. My father has a home in the city, but my home is out in the countryside. I prefer it to the city.”

  “May Oma and I see the wonders of this place, for surely it is wondrous?” she queried him.

  “When you are rested from your journey I will bring you both to see the sights. I can well imagine how exciting Alcazaba Malina must seem to you. Still, it is but a tiny town when compared to Cordoba, where you will eventually make your home, my flower.”

  She was astounded. “Cordoba is larger?” It was difficult to even envision such a thing.

  “Alcazaba Malina is like an olive is to Cordoba’s melon,” he told her with a smile.

  “What is an olive? What is a melon?” she demanded of him.

  He laughed aloud, realizing what was ordinary in his life was unknown to this girl from her barbaric northern land. “I will show you both when we reach our destination,” he promised her. “First, however, I must see to the docking of I’timad. You will remain on board, in the cabin, while I first pay my respects to my father, and arrange for a litter to take you to my villa.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said in a dutiful little voice. He was so handsome. She had missed his passion. Would he share it with her tonight, or would he expect her to rest from their long journey? I am not that tired, she thought rebelliously. I want him to make love to me! Then she was struck by a sudden, unpleasant thought “Are you married, Karim al Malina?” she asked him.

  He was startled. “Nay,” he replied. Then seeing a look in her eyes that made him uncomfortable, he continued, “But I will have my father arrange a marriage for me, to take place after I have delivered you to the caliph in Cordoba. It is past time I settled down.”

  She smiled up at him with her small, even, white teeth. “But you have no wife now? Or a harem?”

  “Nay,” he said nervously.

  “Gooood,” she almost purred, her blue eyes glittering.

  “A Love Slave,” he said sternly, “does not allow her emotions to become entangled with any man, Zaynab. Remember, you are not my property, but rather the property of the Caliph of Cordoba. My interest in you will never be more than that of pupil and teacher.”

  She turned quickly away from him, but not before he had seen the glint of tears in her eyes. “He hae no heart,” Zaynab murmured softly to Oma as he walked away from them.

  “He be a man of honor, my lady,” the younger girt replied. There was nothing else she could say that would comfort her mistress. She had seen Zaynab’s gaze soften at the sound of Karim al Malina’s voice. She had noted how Zaynab’s eyes followed him secretively when he came into her view. Her poor mistress was falling in love with Karim al Malina, and she must not There was no future for Zaynab with the captain, Oma thought sadly, and therefore she herself had no future with Alaeddin ben Omar. She sighed deeply.

  I’timad was made fast to her dock and the gangplank run up. The ship’s master debarked, disappearing quickly into the early morning crowds upon the wharf, even as Alaeddin ben Omar shepherded the two women back to the privacy of the cabin, away from prying eyes.

  “What is a melon?” Zaynab asked him. She must put her mind on other things, she realized, not Karim al Malina.

  “It is a large, round, sweet fruit,” Alaeddin answered.

  “And an olive, please?”

  “A small fruit, black, purple, sometimes green, and very salty because they are preserved in brine,” he explained.

  “Karim says this city is like an olive to Cordoba’s melon,” Zaynab said. “I did not know what olives and melons were.”

  The first mate smiled, his white teeth flashing in his bronzed face. “ ’Tis a good description. Aye, Cordoba’s a big place compared to Alcazaba Malina, but I prefer the smaller town myself. Besides it’s unlikely, lady, that you will live in Cordoba itself. It’s true, there is a royal palace in the city, next to the Grand Mosque, where the caliph used to live much of the year. In the summer months he would decamp to al-Rusafa, his summer palace to the northeast of the city, but now he has built Madinat al-Zahra, northwest of Cordoba.”

  “The city of Zahra? That is his wife, isn’t it?” Zaynab asked.

  “His favorite wife, mother of his heir,” came the answer.

  “And I am supposed to attract the affections of a man who has built a city for this woman? She must be a marvelous lady. ’Tis impossible!” the girl declared.

  Alaeddin ben Omar laughed heartily. It was a deep, booming laugh. “We Moors are not like you northerners,” he told her. “We enjoy everything of beauty that Allah has created for us. We do not limit ourselves to simply one woman. The caliph may respect and admire the lady Zahra. He may even build a city for her. But it does not mean he cannot admire, respect, and love other women too. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my lady Zaynab. If you are clever, and I believe you can be, the caliph will fall madly in love with you.”

  “Am I beautiful?” Oma said coyly.

  He chuckled “You, my pigeon, do not have to be beautiful,” he replied, “but,” he amended, seeing her black look, “you are beautiful enough for me. If you were any fairer, the caliph might want you for himself too. Then poor old Alaeddin’s heart would be broken.” He pinched her cheek, chortling as she smacked his hand. What a girl! he thought. What a fine wife she would make a man.

  “I must go, and begin giving orders,” he told them. “Open the shutters if you wish, but do not go out upon the decks.”

  When he had gone, the two girls opened the shutters and gazed out upon the harbor. The day was bright and sunny, the air hotter than they had ever known. There was a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. Its salty tang tickled their nostrils. They could not see the town now, for the stem of the vessel faced the water, not the land; but they could smell its smells.

  “I wonder how long we will have to remain in this stuffy old cabin,” Oma said. “I have only been able to bear the voyage because we were not completely penned up in here. Sometimes I miss the hills and fields outside the convent where I used to play as a child. Do you miss Alba, my lady?”

  Zaynab shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “The only thing I miss is my sister Gruoch, but she was lost to me the day she wed. There is nothing for me at Ben MacDui any longer. I like the warmth of this place. I wonder if the sun shines all the time, Oma. We’ve seen no rain since we left Eire. Do you think it ever rains here?”

  “It must,” her servant replied. “I saw trees as we came into the harbor this morning, and flowers. They need rain to grow.”

  “Aye, they do.” Zaynab’s countenance was thoughtful. She wondered when Karim would return to the ship; when they would be allowed to leave it; if they would see Alcazaba Malina today, or another time. Where had he gone? Ahh, yes. To see his father, he had said. She imagined his father was a merchant too. Karim had obviously gone to report to him on the voyage just completed. She wondered what Karim’s family was like. He always spoke of them so lovingly. How different, she thought, from her own family.

  * * *

  Karim al Malina made his way through the winding streets of his city. Finally he stopped before a small gate in a long white wall. Reaching into the voluminous white robes he was wearing, he drew out a small brass key with a round head, fitted it into the gate’s lock, opened it, and entered a fine, large garden. The gate swung shut behind him with an audible click, causing a gardener working amid the rosebushes to look up.

  “My lord Karim! Welcome home,” the
gardener said, smiling.

  “Thank you, Yussef,” the captain replied, and hurried toward the building on the far side of the garden. As he went, servants seeing him smiled and added their voices to Yussef’s welcome. He greeted them all by name, with courtesy. Finally he entered the building, going directly to his father’s apartments.

  The old man was already awake. Coming forward, he embraced his son and smiled broadly. “I’timad rides low in the water, my son. You have obviously brought home a fine cargo. Welcome!” He was a tall man with piercing dark eyes and snow-white hair.

  “I have brought home a fine profit, Father, but not necessarily a cargo,” Karim told him, drawing a heavy pouch from his robes and placing it on the table before them. “The cargo I carry is not for sale. Donal Righ hired the ship to bring gifts to the caliph in Cordoba.”

  “Why did you not go to Cordoba first?” his father inquired.

  “Because one of those gifts is the most beautiful girl you have ever seen in all of your life. I am schooling her to be a Love Slave for the caliph. When I have delivered her, and all of the other gifts that Donal Righ has packed my ship with, I shall come home to Alcazaba Malina for good, as you have always wanted. You will find me a pretty wife, and I will endeavor to add to your cache of grandchildren.”

  A broad smile lit up Habib ibn Malik’s handsome old face, and he once again embraced his youngest son. “Praise be to Allah the most merciful, for He has answered the prayer nearest to my heart,” the father cried. He brushed away the tears that had sprung into his eyes. “I am becoming an old fool,” he said, “but I love you, Karim, and I enjoy having my family about me. Your mother will be equally delighted.”