“Why will I be delighted?” A tall, slender woman entered the room. “Karim!” She hurried toward him, arms outstretched. “When did you arrive, my son?” She hugged him hard. “I had feared that you meant to winter in Ere with that old reprobate Donal Righ.”
“That old reprobate has sent you a fine strand of pearls, my mother, and one for the lady Muzna too,” Karim told her with a smile. “I have only just arrived, lest you scold me for not coming to see you.”
The lady Alimah turned and said to an attending slave, “Why do you stand there, fool? Bring food for us! Hurry!” Then she sat down upon a small chair. “Now, Karim, tell us of this voyage. Habib, seat yourself, my love.” Her azure eyes caught those of another attending slave. “Wait, Karim.” Then she said to the slave, “Fetch the lady Muzna and the lords Ja’far and Ayyub, and my daughter, Iniga.” She turned back to her son. “Muzna always asks questions I can’t answer, and your brothers too. You might as well tell us all at once.”
The two men laughed at her. She once was a captive his father had seen in the slave market in Cordoba many years ago. She was Norse, and it was from her Karim had inherited his blue eyes and fair skin. Habib ibn Malik had fallen hopelessly in love with the captive girl. With the permission of his first wife, Muzna, he had taken Alimah, as she was called, to be his second wife. She had borne him first Ja’far, Karim’s older brother, then Karim, and finally a daughter, Iniga. The oldest of Habib ibn Malik’s children was his son, Ayyub, the lady Muzna’s only child. By kind fortune the two women were good friends.
The lady Muzna was an Arab of good family. Neither the house nor the children interested her in the least. She was sweet-natured and kind, and she preferred writing exquisite poetry to other, more mundane pursuits. She was delighted to welcome Alimah, who quickly took over the household, the slaves, and the major burden of childbearing while Muzna wrote her beautiful verses, accepting her place as Habib ibn Malik’s first wife. It was, she thought, a most satisfactory situation.
The family arrived before the food. Muzna entered the room, her black hair liberally silvered, her brown eyes bright with excitement Kissing her smooth soft cheek, Karim thought to himself that she did not ever appear to age, although she was past fifty. His sister, Iniga, her hair as sunshine-blond as his mother’s had once been, threw herself at him with a shriek of delight.
“What have you brought me?” she immediately demanded of him.
“Why should I bring you anything?” he teased her.
“Karim! You had best treat me with more respect I am going to be married,” Iniga told him. “Now, what did you bring me?”
“A gold ring studded with rubies and pearls, greedy one,” he told her, “and what man was foolish enough to offer for you? It couldn’t be Ahmed now, could it?” Allah! Iniga couldn’t be old enough to marry, could she?
“She is sixteen, almost past a good marriage,” his mother said softly, answering his unspoken question.
“I keep forgetting that she is growing up, for I was half grown when you bore her, my mother,” he answered as quietly.
Alimah patted his hand. Then as the servants began entering his father’s apartments with food, she directed them to the terrace overlooking the sea, where there was a table upon which they might place the food. There was fresh bread, a platter of peeled green figs, bowls of newly made yogurt, grapes and oranges, and a steaming platter of rice with small chunks of grilled lamb. The beverage maker came with his brazier, charcoal, and kettles. Mint and rose-petal teas were brewed and passed about. Couches were brought, and the family sprawled upon them, eating and listening to Karim’s adventures.
“I thought you swore never to train another maid in the erotic arts again,” Ja’far ibn Habib said to his younger brother. Then he chuckled knowingly, and winked at their eldest sibling, Ayyub.
“It was not a commission I sought,” Karim answered him honestly, “but Donal Righ played upon his friendship with our father. How could I refuse him under those circumstances?”
“This is not a discussion I wish you to have in Iniga’s presence,” the lady Alimah said sternly to her sons.
“Oh, Mother! I know that Karim is a Passion Master,” Iniga said, laughing. “Everyone does. It has given me quite a status among my friends to have such a brother. All the girls want to know just what it is that he does to train a maiden. Unfortunately, I have been unable to enlighten them much.”
“You should not be able to enlighten them at all,” her mother said sharply, turning to her husband for aid. “Habib!”
“She is to be married soon, Alimah. I am certain neither Karim nor Ja’far will be indelicate in their speech,” he answered her.
Alimah sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes with displeasure. “You have always spoiled Iniga, Habib,” she complained.
“She is his baby, and the only girl,” the lady Muzna interjected softly, her dark eyes twinkling. The truth was, they had all spoiled Iniga, for they all adored her.
The discussion no longer totally forbidden, Ayyub asked, “Is the girl beautiful?”
“She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” Karim told them. “Eyes the color of the finest aquamarines, hair like thistledown, pale gold in color. Skin like a gardenia petal.”
“Is she a good pupil?” Ja’far said mischievously.
“An excellent one,” Karim replied. “She is the finest Love Slave I have ever trained. Never have I known a girl like this one.”
“And when he has delivered her to Cordoba,” their father told them all, “he will come home for good, and marry a girl of my choice.”
“Ahhhh,” Alimah and Muzna breathed as one, both women very pleased by their lord’s words, for Ja’far and Ayyub had both been long wed.
“I have a niece,” the lady Muzna began.
“Not your brother Abdul’s daughter?” her husband said. “She is not at all suitable, my dear. She has already outlived one husband, and is sharp-tongued as well. Besides, she was married three years, and never once gave sign of being with child.”
“Perhaps that was her husband’s fault,” Lady Muzna replied with uncustomary spirit. “He had two other wives, and they had no children either. It was never my niece’s fault.”
“Be that as it may,” Habib ibn Malik answered his first wife, “she is too old for Karim, and besides, she has a squint.”
“I think we shall find a fair young virgin for my son,” Lady Alimah interjected quietly. “An innocent girl will be easier for him to mold into the kind of wife that he desires.”
“And we all know how good Karim is at molding women,” Ja’far laughed, winking at both of his brothers. Then he said boldly, “Do we get to meet this fairest of Love Slaves, little brother?”
“Can I meet her too?” Iniga asked.
“Iniga!” her mother gasped, shocked, and even Muzna paled.
“Well, why can’t I meet her, Mother? You were once a captive like she is. Is she nice, Karim? What is her name?” his sister demanded.
“Her name is Zaynab, and yes, Iniga, she is a very nice young woman, younger than you by a year, but unless Mother will allow it, you may not meet her. I will bow to her wishes in this matter.”
Alimah was shaken by her daughter’s reference to her own captivity. Of course Iniga was correct in one sense, but Alimah had not been a slave for close to thirty years. She had forgotten about it. Habib had freed her upon Ja’far’s birth. Those brief years spent as a slave had easily faded in the light of her husband’s love. Still, a Love Slave … Iniga was so innocent.
“Please, Mother!” Iniga put forth her most bewitching smile.
Alimah, however, could not be moved as easily as the rest of her family by her daughter’s charms. “I must first meet Zaynab myself,” she said firmly. “When I have assessed her character, I will decide if she is the type of young girl I wish you to know, Iniga.”
“A fair and equitable solution to the problem,” Habib ibn Malik said with a broad smile. “As always, my
dear, you are just.”
Karim arose from his couch, washing his hands in a basin of perfumed water and drying them upon a linen towel supplied by an attending slave. “I must return to I’timad,” he said. “Zaynab and her servant, Oma, will need to be transported by litter to my villa.”
“And Donal Righ’s cargo?” his father asked.
“I will store it in my warehouse. I must purchase some Arabians and a few racing camels for the trip to Cordoba. Alaeddin will see to the unloading of my vessel.”
“I’timad rides low in the water, my son. What cargo do you carry that is so heavy? Will there be room for the additional load?” his father wondered aloud.
“Donal Righ is sending, among other things, a dozen columns of green Irish agate,” Karim explained. “That has been my ballast this return voyage. They will not be easy to present in procession.”
“Must Donal Righ give the caliph racing camels, Karim? Everyone gives Abd-al Rahman racing camels. He has a huge herd of them. The Hall of the Caliphate at Madinat al-Zahra is huge. I saw it last year, it’s a wonder! Why not let us seek out two dozen elephants. We will sling the twelve columns between the twenty-four great beasts. It will be quite a spectacle for both you and Donal Righ if you make such a presentation in the new hall.”
“You have always been the cleverest of us all, Ayyub,” Karim told his eldest brother admiringly. “Elephants it shall be! I shall have to have another vessel built to carry it all, but then I shall need a second ship once I become a respectable married man.”
“Will you have time to build a ship?” his mother asked him.
“Aye, I will. Zaynab will need a full year’s tutelage before she is ready to go to Cordoba. She is talented, but she must be perfect if she is to bring honor to Donal Righ, and to me.”
“Is she Norse?” his mother asked softly.
“No,” he said as quietly. “She is from Alba She was brought to Eire by a Norseman who raided the convent in which she was installed. If you ask her, Mother, she will tell you her history. She is not ashamed of it.”
“She has pride?” Alimah queried.
“She was a nobleman’s daughter,” he replied.
His mother nodded. A nobleman’s child, and one who did not go to pieces in her greatly altered circumstances. Her own father had been a wealthy farmer. She understood this Zaynab’s strength, for she had it herself. She was now curious to meet the girl. “I will give your guest several days to recover from her voyage,” Alimah said. “Then I shall come and meet her.”
“And then I shall come and meet her,” Iniga said brightly.
“If I permit it,” her mother responded swiftly, and the others laughed. They all knew that unless Zaynab was totally unsuitable, Iniga would have her way in the matter.
Karim borrowed a litter, and bearers from among his father’s household. Instructing them to go to his vessel, he crossed the garden again, letting himself out by the little gate into the street, which now bustled with the daily traffic. Small vendors carrying their wares moved through the streets, calling to their customers. Respectable women and their servants, properly veiled, moved gracefully along toward the main market square to shop for the variety of goods, both luxury and everyday, displayed beneath the gaily colored awnings shading the open stalls from the hot sun. Seeing a fruit seller, Karim stopped and purchased a large round melon, then hurried along to the harbor.
Alaeddin ben Omar had already begun overseeing the unloading of I’timad. The bales and bundles were being carried from the ship, down the gangway, and directly into the warehouse by a steady stream of black slaves. A winch and tackle was slowly lifting one of the heavy agate columns from the forward hold. Karim watched as it was carefully lowered to an open wagon, which was then hauled the short distance into the warehouse by three teams of sturdy mules. Once inside, another winch and tackle would remove it from its transport and lay it upon the floor in a pile of hay that had been placed there for each of the columns, to prevent their being scratched
Karim boarded the vessel and spoke to his first mate. “Have the more portable valuables transported to my villa, the gold and jewels, and set a guard round-the-clock both there and inside and outside the warehouse, Alaeddin. Call me when the litter arrives.”
“How is your father?” the first mate asked.
“Well! The whole family is well. Iniga informs me that she is preparing to wed, but I didn’t get the details from her. There will be time for that, but Allah! Is she that old already?”
The mate grinned. “Aye, it just seems like yesterday she was a little girl with her golden pigtails flying about her, begging to come on a voyage with us. I remember carrying her on my shoulder. Who is the lucky man? Your father’s rich, and could have his pick of husbands for her.”
“He is allowing her to marry for love,” Karim answered. “Iniga is the baby, the only daughter, and doted upon by us all. None of us would see her unhappy. She is a fortunate girl.” He clapped his first mate on the back. “You have done a good job with the unloading, my friend.”
Entering the cabin, he held up the fruit for Zaynab and Oma to see. “This,” he told them, “is a melon. I bought it in the market for you on my return from my father’s house.” He plunked it down upon the table and, removing his knife from his sash, began to slice it for them. After handing them pieces of the juicy fruit, he looked for comment.
Zaynab bit into the melon and chewed. Another bite followed, and then another. “Ummmm.” she said approvingly. “It’s delicious!”
Oma nodded in agreement. Her little tongue caught at a droplet of juice.
“Do you have other fruits like this melon?” Zaynab asked him, placing the rind upon the table and reaching for another piece.
“Oranges, bananas, pomegranates, apricots, figs, and grapes,” he told her. “I will see you get to taste them all, my flower.”
“I thought grapes were for making wine,” she answered him.
“And for eating, my adorable little savage.” Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her mouth swiftly. She sighed, and he laughed. “You are hot for a wench from such a cold clime,” he teased her, and nibbled upon her earlobe.
Oma turned away blushing, but Zaynab said, “Such a deduction, my lord, would lead one to believe that you, being from a warm clime, would therefore be of an opposite nature, but you are not, I think.”
“Nay,” he murmured, pressing his length against her so she might feel his rising desire. “I am every bit as hot as you, Zaynab, my flower.” His hands cupped her buttocks, drawing her even harder against his body. “Now!” he whispered in her ear. “Send Oma away, for I want to make love to you now.” He buried his face in her soft neck.
To his great surprise, she squirmed from his embrace and stepped away from him. “How unseemly of you, my lord,” she said in cool tones. “ ’Tis neither the time nor the place for such love sport. Is not the litter here to transport us to your villa? How I long for a bath,” she concluded with a feigned sigh.
Astounded, he could only gape at her for a moment, and then yanking her back toward him, he forced his hand into her caftan. “Your heart is thundering wildly,” he said, and then releasing her, he began to laugh. “Magnificent, Zaynab! A truly incredible performance! I am proud of you, my beauty. ’Twas well done! Allah help the caliph in the presence of a woman who can practice such wiles. Your look is calm and elegant. No one would ever know you are as filled with lust as I am at this very moment.” A knock sounded upon the cabin door, and Karim called, “Enter,” though his manhood was still throbbing with his desire for her.
The door swung wide and Alaeddin said, “The litter is here, Karim. Your father also sent a horse for you to ride.”
“Oma,” Karim said, “you will find streetwear for both you and your mistress in that small chest at the foot of your bed.”
The young girl drew forth two black, all-enveloping garments. She helped Zaynab into one, and drew the other over her own form. Then looking at
her mistress, she began to giggle. “We look like a fine pair of old crows, lady. Why, only our eyes are visible.”
“Which is as it should be for respectable women,” Karim said. “Only women of questionable virtue and easy morals walk the streets showing their faces, their bodies, and their hair. In these robes every woman is like another, rich or poor. No man will ever approach a woman so garbed, or even attempt to attract her attention. In fact, it is a crime punishable by death. These robes offer you total safety.”
“Must they be black? They are so ugly,” Zaynab said.
“Black is modest,” he answered. “Come now. The day is growing hotter, and the bearers are waiting in the sun. Even the most menial slave should be treated with courtesy if he is obedient and works hard.”
The two girls followed Karim al Malina from the ship’s cabin.
“Keep your eyes lowered,” he ordered them softly. “No reputable female makes eye contact with a man not her master, Zaynab. Male slaves, and eunuchs, of course, are not considered men.”
His words absolutely amazed her. And what was a eunuch? Coming from what now seemed a plain and simple world into this new and complicated one made her feel like a small child in many ways. There was so much she didn’t know. There was so much to learn. She wanted to learn it! Her previous life as the unwanted twin had not offered her any perquisites of note. She had been tolerated mainly because few could tell the difference between her and Gruoch; because there was always the terrible chance that Gruoch might die young, and she would then be needed to take her sister’s place.
Now, suddenly, life had placed amazing choices before her. She was a slave, true, but she was young, beautiful, and fair-haired. That was, she knew, the most valuable sort of slave in al-Andalus. Alaeddin ben Omar had told them this morning that often dishonest slave merchants would kidnap simple country girls and bleach their hair in an effort to palm them off as northern captives. The ruse was generally discovered, but by then more often than not the slaver had disappeared. And woe betide the poor maid who, unless she had had the time to ingratiate herself into her master’s affections, found herself back on the block, her value greatly reduced.
The Love Slave Page 15