Seductive Wager

by Leigh Greenwood

  Charles opened the door with his usual cheerful demeanor despite a bandage that covered a third of his head and face. Brett, disdaining bandages, lay on his side on his cot to avoid putting pressure on two enormous knots that had formed at the base of his skull. His hands and feet were encircled by iron manacles which were firmly anchored to the wall.

  “I’m Kenneth Wiggins, the English consul in Algeria,” the man said, introducing himself. “I’m afraid your welcome to Algiers has been rather rude,” he purred in a quiet, cultivated voice which seemed incapable of rising to anger, or any other form of passion.

  Brett suddenly sat up in the bed, and despite the excruciating pain at the back of his eyes, his eager gaze fixed itself upon Wiggins. “Did they capture them?” he demanded abruptly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Wiggins said, appalled by Brett’s deathlike appearance.

  “The pirates,” Brett repeated. “Did they catch them?”

  “I do not know. They haven’t yet returned. I am sorry it should have to be a French ship that rescued you, but as you know, we have no regular Navy here. We could see your ship from the roof of the consulate, but there was nothing we could do. Not even one of our ships could have reached you in time.”

  “You’ve got to find out for me. I’ve got to know.”

  “Certainly,” Wiggins replied, still rather cool. “But surely you can wait for their return. There is no great hurry.”

  “My wife was on that damned boat, man!” Brett shouted at him with savage anger. “They took my wife!”

  “Oh, I see,” Wiggins mumbled, his pale skin turning a pasty white. “That does put a rather different light on the situation.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then redirected his gaze to Brett. “I was not informed you were bringing a wife. I was told you were unmarried.”

  “We were married in France, just before I left. We didn’t want to be separated so soon.”

  “Understandable, but rather unwise,” Wiggins replied. “This is no place for a young woman.”

  “I know that,” Brett shouted. “Don’t you think I’ve cursed my selfishness every minute I’ve been awake? Just get me out of here,” he said, jangling the chains that held him. “I can’t do a thing as long as I’m anchored to the walls of this bloody ship.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that at least not just yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Brett demanded.

  “It seems the man who took over your ship gave the French captain a rather prejudicial account of your purpose in coming to Algiers. So prejudicial, in fact, he has decided to wait until he can consult his government before deciding whether to let you go.”

  “This is intolerable. They have no right,” Brett raged.

  “You also seem to have aggravated an already difficult situation by attacking the captain when he would not give you command of his ship,” Wiggins continued as imperturbably as ever.

  “I only wanted to follow Kate before their ship was out of sight,” Brett raged, straining against the chains.

  “Surely you could have tried talking to the captain before you struck him?”

  “I did, but the bloody fool kept on coming up with objections, and there wasn’t time to convince him. With two ships, we could have caught them for sure.”

  “Possibly, but you can’t expect a Frenchman to allow his ship to be taken away from him, especially when the person doing the taking is an Englishman.”

  “I can see you’re well suited to be a diplomat,” Brett remarked scornfully. “You’re the kind who would stand around talking policy while cutthroats burned, pillaged, and raped their way through every village in the county.”

  “We can’t all be men of action,” Wiggins purred softly, his detached gaze showing no hint of emotion. “Besides, someone has to save you intrepid warriors from the consequences of your ill-judged deeds.”

  “Talk if you must, but get me out of here now,” Brett shouted. “Every hour lost gives those damned heathens a better chance to hide.”

  “I will do what I can as expeditiously as possible,” Wiggins said, rising to his feet, “but I fear it will take some little time. As for the pirates, unless the French ship has kept them from going ashore, they will disappear into the countryside and our next step will be to discover where they have taken your wife. That will take even longer.”

  “But you can’t let them keep her, man. She’s an English citizen, just like you.”

  “If she were the queen herself, I couldn’t do any more than I’m doing now,” Wiggins informed him. “I have my sources, but out here everything takes time. Forgive me for asking, but is your wife pretty?”

  “She’s beautiful!” Brett thundered. “The most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”

  “Then things aren’t quite so desperate after all.”

  “How can you say that? She’s alone with those savages somewhere in the desert.”

  “If she is young and lovely, she is too valuable to be harmed. She is also worth too much to be sold anywhere except in one of the major slave markets, so we have time. If she is as beautiful as you say, then we have even more time. They will try to interest one of the sultan’s agents in bidding for her.”

  “You’ve got to find her,” Brett said, his voice suddenly more pleading than demanding. “She killed three men. They may want revenge.”

  “She killed three men!” Wiggins echoed, his voice losing its calm control. “How can this be?”

  “She shot two of the pirates and severed Raisuli’s jugular with a single knife thrust,” Brett said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

  “Raisuli!” Wiggins repeated, his voice rising yet another octave. “Are you trying to make me believe your wife has killed the most feared pirate in the Mediterranean? “

  “You can ask anybody on the ship,” Charles said, speaking for the first time. “They all saw it.”

  “Your ship did not stop here,” Wiggins said, recovering some of his control. “The French captain doesn’t know where they were headed.”

  “Then someone did sell information about us,” Brett said, black fury working in his face.

  “Most probably. Any kind of information can be bought for a price, but that need not concern us any longer. I will see what can be done about your release. I’ll also set inquiries in motion to discover where they have taken your wife and what they plan to do with her. Until then, you really can do nothing, even if you were free, so he back and do strive to contain your temper in the presence of your captors. You do neither your cause nor ours any good by such intemperate behavior.”

  “The bloodless turnip,” Brett hissed after Wiggins had departed. “I have no doubt he was glad to leave his wife in England. He’d probably have apoplexy if she ever bared her breasts to him.”

  But Brett soon forgot Wiggins. Kate’s whereabouts and safety were the only thoughts occupying his mind. Ever since he had awakened to find himself chained to the wall, he had gone over the battle step by step, from the time the warning bell rang until he was knocked out the second time, searching for something he could have done differently, some way he had failed, but he couldn’t think of what they could have done to defeat the pirates. They were lucky to have gotten off so easily, and they would all be headed for some slave market if the French ships had not come to their rescue. But it was hard to be thankful for the French intervention when it was the French commander who had refused to go after Kate and who now kept Brett from following.

  He tried hard to believe Wiggins’s assurances of Kate’s safety, and he succeeded most of the time, but then he would remember her great beauty and worry would nearly drive him crazy. He didn’t know Raisuli had tried to rape her—Charles had decided there was nothing to be gained by telling him—so he was able to believe Wiggins knew what was likely to happen because he knew the people and their habits. It was fear that had driven him to try to take over the French ship, it was fear that caused him to strain against the chains until his skin was broken and blee
ding, and it was fear that made him feel physically ill when he thought of what could happen to Kate. He had to believe she was safe. Otherwise—well, he couldn’t face the otherwise.

  He closed his eyes and lay back, but he couldn’t rest. He was bombarded by memories of mornings when he would wake and be awed by Kate’s glorious beauty as though he were seeing it for the first time, of afternoons when they played together like lifelong friends, of evenings when they battled over cards or shared thoughts on any number of subjects, or of nights in her arms when he felt like he never wanted the dawn to come. Over and over he could see the love in her eyes, feel her soft skin, smell her hair and skin, taste her lips, hear her voice as she called out his name, and the thought that he might never experience any of these again was cruel torture.

  But it was the feeling of helplessness that was the hardest of all on his temper. Never before had he been a prisoner, and only common sense kept him from senselessly struggling against the chains that bound him. His proud spirit rebelled at the knowledge someone had dared to confine him, and it was all he could do to keep from swearing vengeance on the French captain even though he knew he would have been just as helpless had he been free. Wiggins was right, however little Brett wanted to admit it; if the French ship did not capture them before they reached land, they would be gone beyond recall, vanished into the innumerable towns and villages from whence they and their kind continued to spring every year. To have gone charging into the countryside would have endangered his life and Kate’s, as well as doomed any hope he had of accomplishing his mission. His mind told him there was nothing he could do now, that the best course was to wait for the French ship to return and for Wiggins to learn what he could. But then he would think of Kate, remember some little quirk, some little thing she did, something she said, the way she would laugh when she hit the center of the target, the way she would scatter the cards all over the room when he beat her, and the pain would be so great he was certain he would die if he didn’t get up and do something.

  He lay back and tried to clear his mind of everything except his mission. True, there was nothing he could do about that, either, but at least it didn’t make him feel like his insides were being pulled out by hot pincers.

  Kate awoke to strange surroundings for the third consecutive day, but she sensed at once she was in a very different place this time. Even before, she opened her eyes she could tell it was quiet, cool, and that she was sleeping on a soft, luxurious bed. After the terrors and discomforts of the last two days, that in itself was reassuring. It meant she was someplace where she was valued higher than by the unwashed man who had taken her off the ship.

  She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a small but luxuriously furnished room. Gleaming brocade covered walls of veined marble, while carpets were piled two and three thick over the floor. She lay on a raised podium mounded high with fluffy mattresses and pillows; its sides were covered in bright tiles framed with strips of cedar and held in place with silver nails. A bowl of fruit sat on a low onyx table; Kate took a date and ate it hungrily. She had been offered plenty of food since they had taken her from the ship, but she didn’t always know what it was and often the smell alone was enough to make her stomach rebel. Here at last was something she recognized and could enjoy.

  Once the edge was off her hunger, Kate began to be curious about her surroundings, but the only door to her chamber was locked. Clearly, she was no closer to being free than she had been before.

  For the one hundredth time, her thoughts went back to Brett. She couldn’t forget how he looked when she last saw him, pale and sprawled over the deck. Was he badly hurt? Was he still alive? She dared not allow her mind to dwell on that last question. He had to be alive. Otherwise there would be no point in living. She had been nothing but bad luck for him ever since he tried to help her. Maybe he was better off without her. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see her again after this. Her dreary thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock and the door was opened by an enormous black man who looked as fierce as the pirate who had abducted her. Kate gasped and drew back, but immediately a tiny woman of many years ducked under his arm and entered bearing an armload of clothes.

  “You may go, Bismillah.” She spoke to the huge eunuch in Arabic, but turned and addressed Kate in English. “I see you are as beautiful as they said.”

  “You speak English?” Kate gasped.

  “I am English,” the girl replied. “My name was Susan, but I am now called Olema. I have been here many years.”

  “But how did you get here? How did I get here?”

  “You came in the night, on a Utter carried between two asses. I came out many years ago to marry a cousin, but our ship was captured off Corsica and I was sold. I have been here ever since. All in all, it is probably a better life. I must work hard, but I am cared for and I live comfortably.”

  “But where am I?” Kate asked.

  “You are in Algiers. This-is the palace of the dey.”

  A thrill of relief coursed through Kate. “But why was I brought here? Who brought me? Are they going to let me see my husband? Are they going to free me?”

  “I have the answer to none of those questions,” Olema replied with no indication that she was interested in Kate’s past or her future. “I have been instructed to prepare you for an audience with the dey. That is why I am here.”

  “But you must help me.”

  “I shall. I have brought you clothes, and soon Bismillah will return with water to bathe you and scented oils to rub over your body.”

  “I mean you must help me to get out of here, find my husband.”

  “There is no escape from the dey’s palace,” Olema said, her voice still flat and disinterested. “It is best that you put it out of your mind. You are to make preparations to see the dey.”

  “But I want to go to my husband,” Kate insisted. “He’s here in Algiers, I know he is. He landed several days ago when the pirates took me from the ship. Surely that’s the reason the dey has brought me here.”

  “I do not know what the dey will do with you. That is riot my place,” Olema said. “My duty is to prepare you for your visit to the dey’s apartments, and that is what I shall do.” So saying, she began to spread out the various garments she had over her arm. Kate had never seen anything like them and didn’t have any idea how they should be worn, but she could tell from the material that they were too sheer to cover much of her body unless she was going to wear several layers of them all at once. Bismillah, accompanied by several other slaves who entered bearing trays of food, beakers of water, a basin, slippers, and several things Kate never seen before, returned with the bath oils.

  “Now you must allow me to bathe you,” Olema said when they had withdrawn. “The dey does not like for people to have an odor.” Kate allowed herself to be undressed. After three days in her clothes, she was too glad to be rid of the hateful apricot dress to feel immodest. It was a wonderful luxury to have herself gently bathed in warm, scented water in the comfort of her chamber. There was even a small brazier to take the chill out of the air. It was a far cry from hot water carried up to a copper tub in her icy bedchamber at Ryehill.

  “Tell me something about the dey,” she asked after Olema’s gentle rubbing had rid her body of some of its tension. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the harem,” Olema answered without slowing her work.

  “I’m where?” demanded Kate with a near shriek.

  “The harem,” Olema repeated. “It is where all the women of the palace live. It is the only place we are allowed.”

  So Brett had not been exaggerating after all. She was in a harem, and she had no idea when or how she was going to get out.

  “But who are the women who live here?” Kate asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.

  “They are many people—the dey’s mother, his wives, and their households. Then there are the concubines and their attendants. Finally, there are the eunuchs who are responsible for the
harem.”

  “How many people is that?”

  “I don’t know. Certainly several hundred altogether.”

  “And they all belong to the dey?”

  “The dey is a very rich man. He has many wives.”

  “Do they know I am here?”

  “The wives? Not yet, maybe, but they will know soon. The concubines knew as soon as you were brought in last night. Your arrival caused quite a disturbance. There are not many comings and goings here, and everyone gossips about everything.”

  “What are your usual duties?” Kate asked Olema.

  “I used to serve the old dey’s sister. She died last summer and I have been with the dey’s mother, but she has her own household and does not need me. I am now your servant.”

  “But I’m not staying here. I’m sure the dey will send for my husband as soon as I explain to him what happened.”

  “No one ever leaves the harem,” Olema stated with finality.

  “But I must. I mean, I will,” Kate insisted. And she continued to do so while Olema dressed her in the traditional costume of the harem, which left little of her charms unrevealed. Her hair was pulled back from her face and hung loosely down her back. She wore a sheer top over a halter that supported rather than covered her breasts, and pair of loose pants that left her stomach and ankles exposed. The velvet slippers on her feet did nothing to make her feel properly dressed.

  “I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” Kate protested. “I’d be more modestly attired in my chemise.”

  “Come. It is time to leave.” Her protest had no effect on Olema, and Kate soon found herself in an immense sitting room as long and as wide as a cathedral. Its vaulted ceiling was a fresco of woven cedar strips; a marble fountain gave the air its freshness and serenity, cascading water falling from one basin to another its soft music. The room was crowded with dozens of women clad in equally scanty raiment. Talking energetically as they ate and reclined on podiums shaped like long sofas, they fell silent when Kate entered. If the looks they directed toward her were any indication, they didn’t like the way she looked, either.