He gave her a single shake. "Are you really so foolish, madam? This is not England, and Arabs see things quite differently. Here you are a profitable piece of merchandise. Do you understand? Women are stolen here, imprisoned and sold over and over to an endless stream of men old men-sick men-diseased men."
At his words, Juliette's eyes lost some of their defiance. He held her at arm's length. "Do I shock you? Yes, I see that I do. But I know how stubborn you are. You've made no secret that you want to escape. But think well, Juliette, before you employ any of the clever plans that I'm sure are in your mind. You call me villain, but you have led a sheltered life. There are many far, far, worse than I."
Chapter 48
Sometime later it was Cassia, who conducted Juliette above decks and down the railed gangway to where four men waited beside a sedan chair. Through the mesh of her hood, Juliette noticed these men were as rounded and muscular as wrestlers.
As they reached the sedan chair the men's eyes lowered. They salaamed profusely and then politely ignored both Juliette and Cassia as the servant lifted the silk curtain draping the entrance of the vehicle. "Madame will please seat herself," Cassia requested in a firm tone that suggested she had been warned to expect resistance.
Juliette would have refused if she could see any advantage in balking, but there was none. So mounting the three carved steps, she climbed inside the conveyance and sat herself on the small brocade-covered couch.
Through the haze of fluttering silk curtains, Juliette saw the men reach for the platforms long poles. It swayed under her as they lifted, and finally, shouldered it.
A small Arab boy took the lead, holding a pot of incense that drifted toward her in a soft curl of smoke. Then, stepping in unison, her bearers moved onto a path that gradually wound up the hill ahead like a sandy serpent.
Making a narrow part in the silk draperies, Juliette watched everything pass by. There were houses, or rather, shacks, with a few scrawny chickens pecking the ground outside and strings of fish drying on lines.
The children, who were playing together in a large gang, wore pitifully dirty clothes and their smudged faces stared curiously at the men and the sedan chair, and craned to get a glance of her.
Further along, the path widened so to accommodate two sedan chairs traveling abreast. Here there were whitewashed buildings and, on the hill's summit, substantial residences appeared, surrounded by more whitewashed walls and overhanging palms and wild rose vines.
Against these walls, turbaned men leaned and dozed while more children darted about, playing tag among the carts now congesting the wider street. In another kilometer, they came to a marketplace, which was a hubbub of high-pitched voices and twanging music and the bleats and brays of small herds of goats and sheep.
Shops and small stalls lined the streets shaded by posted awnings and from beyond a particular dark doorway came the sounds of flutes and tambourines and the provocative beat of a drum.
The atmosphere grew dusty from the stir of traffic, and the air rang with cries of merchants hawking their goods. Peddlers on foot were moving up and down the street carrying their own less bulky merchandise of threads and incense, and Juliette heard a huge red parrot call out loudly in Arabic as she passed.
It seemed almost like some biblical street, she thought, camels, swarms of goats, and nameless dogs all milling about. There was a smell of fried fish and rotting vegetables and drying camel hide that seemed an incongruent atmosphere for the rich silver and jade and pearls that appeared in the booths and shops along the twisting tangle of streets.
The street narrowed again and divided into a maze of portable booths.
The dust and hurry and shouting voices all combined in a cacophonous din, and after some minutes, Juliette was surprised when the sound of voices slowed and quieted as, inexplicably, everyone on the street paused and one by one began taking up a chant, "La Ilaha Illa Allah La Ilaha Illa Allah," syllables repeated rhythmically, over and over and even her bearers stopped, moved to the side of the road, and set down the sedan chair before joining the others, all kneeling to face the same direction.
Fascinated, Juliette peered from between her parted curtains. She had heard that Arabs were religious, but she was not prepared for this overt show of devotion, this kneeling and abject supplication that continued for several minutes, the devotees all chanting in unison and bending to touch their foreheads to the ground, then rising erect again, and repeating this several times, until it was apparently over.
Then they all rose to their feet, brushing dust from their robes and continuing their business just as before. The bearers came forward then, assuming their former places, and they were reaching for the rails of the platform when a sudden shout drew their attention up the street.
A charging mule, eyes wild, ears laid back, came squealing between the booths. The crowd quickly scattered in its path as it raced through the marketplace. A man came in pursuit, his torn robe dragging as he shouted a flurry of Arabic after the beast.
Undaunted, the mule dashed forward, upturning booths so that angry merchants raised their arms to the sky as if imploring their God to witness their ill fortune. Twice the mule was surrounded, but each time it eluded its would-be captors. It seemed to delight in making fools of everyone-quickly lashing out with hind hooves whenever any man came close enough to grab its tattered halter. The bearers stood in a row between her and the defiant animal, watching the chaos as some of the growing crowd tried to help subdue the destructive creature.
Looking past the spectacle, Juliette suddenly covered her mouth to prevent a cry of surprise from escaping as, down a side street, she spotted an Englishman. Yes, certainly he must be English, she told herself, since he didn't wear robes, but a white drill suit and sun hat, and he was flourishing a walking stick in that certain familiar way, apparently unconcerned about the fray to his back.
Juliette could hardly keep herself from shouting to him and, checking to make sure her bearers were distracted, she realized that, even before she had expected it, a chance for escape had come. Then carefully, and for the first time grateful for the disguising robe, she picked up the hem and noiselessly slipped out of the sedan chair, glancing to see the bearers were still facing away before resuming a normal gait down the street.
Her heart was pounding and keeping her head lowered, Juliette made her way along the street and around a bend until she was out of their sight before picking her robe up to ankle height and speeding after the white-clothed figure already disappearing around a distant corner.
"Dear child!" the gentleman said as Juliette dashed to his side, grabbing his sleeve and bursting out in a garbled version of her circumstances before imploring him to save her.
"But we must get you indoors at once before your guard misses you. Merciful heavens! What might have happened to you if I had not been passing by? Here, follow behind me as the Arab women do. And keep your head down!"
The man started off again and, with her heart racing and her hands shaking, Juliette followed him past beggars and children until they reached a narrow door in a whitewashed wall that opened by pulling a black ring hanging in its splintered center. Beyond this door was a narrow flight of stairs terminating at yet another door which the man opened, this time with a single large key.
Stepping inside, Juliette found a casual combination of east and west, with a large British flag on one wall, and pillows and Arabic hassocks arranged on a single rug around a low brass table.
Juliette's head whirled. Had anyone seen her? Could it really be this easy? But yes, yes it was! And with a spasm through her chest she thought, I have escaped! She smiled as she imagined Brandon's anger when he found out. Oh, he would be furious. And it served him right!
The Englishman showed her around his rooms, a sitting room, a primitive bathroom, but a bathroom just the same, a myriad of small bedrooms occupied with young boys orphans, he informed her, and a dining room.
"But this is wonderful," he said. "A real English lady in
this house. How lucky I am to find you. Do you know how long it's been since I've heard the voice of an English lady? And you must meet Billy. He is my business associate and partner. And how lucky you are, my dear! Have you any idea what might have happened if you had been captured by one of these Arabs? Do you realize a runaway slave is punished by ..:" He paused, grimacing then and waving a hand as if to wipe out the unpleasant thought. "But never mind that! It's foolish to scare you when you are safe now. I'll invite Billy for dinner. I must send a runner immediately. He would never forgive me if I failed to introduce you."
"Dinner?" interrupted Juliette. `But I must go immediately, if possible. There are guards, and they will certainly be searching -for me. And if they find me. ..'
"Ah, my dear lady. Please don't upset yourself," said the Englishman smiling as if her fear were childish. "Long ago I . . . uh . . . shall we say, made arrangements with everyone living nearby. As far as they know, I don't exist. You are perfectly safe, at least as safe as anyone can hope to be among these devils. What harm can come from enjoying yourself? And anyway, I'll hear nothing to the contrary. It has been too long since either poor Billy or I have even seen an Englishwoman, let alone spoken to one. Oh! And do take that horrid hood off. I think of all Arab inventions, these robes their women wear are the most barbaric, don't you agree? They are all so jealous, you know, so possessive. And isn't beauty something to be enjoyed, not hidden away?" He smiled with delight and turned to a young Arab boy who had just brought in a tray holding a pot of tea. Then with evident enthusiasm, he poured them both a cup, holding hers toward her.
"Now, you must sit down over .."
The Englishman had returned his gaze to Juliette, who, taking his suggestion, had removed the hood, and stood before him flushed, her blond hair falling around her shoulders.
His hands wavered as they tilted the saucer, nearly dropping it before he recovered. He licked his lips. "But my heavens," he said at last. "I haven't introduced myself." He bowed. "I am Henry Farthington."
That night became a celebration, and Juliette found Henry's friend Billy to be about her age, shy and withdrawn until fortified with a generous portion of wine. Henry had sent a servant to see about arranging passage for Juliette on one of the ships leaving port the next day. The three laughed and talked as they awaited the man's return and Juliette felt her tensions ebbing with each glass of wine.
Finally the servant returned and Henry conferred with him in low tones before rejoining Juliette and Billy with an enthusiastic smile.
"It's done! It's done!" he announced beaming. "You're good as home right now! I have your passage on a ship sailing early in the morning from here to Spain. And once there, you can book yourself onto a ship sailing straight for England!"
"Then why don't you come, too?" Juliette urged him, seeing his enthusiasm. But he looked away, his smile fading.
"I have a business here to run," he said. "And anyway, it's useless to go back where no one wants you. Family problems, you see. But what does a young girl like you know of such things?" he finished looking into his empty teacup.
Juliette glanced up at the older man, hearing her own heart somehow expressed in his almost bitter tone. She nodded sadly. "I do understand, Henry," she said softly. "Most sincerely I do."
"Both of you are going to so much trouble and endangering yourselves for me," she continued. "How can I ever repay what you are doing?"
And coming forward, she gave them each a kiss on the cheek and thought of the huge reward she would give both men when she was back in England.
Both men looked uncomfortable. Henry cleared his throat and gave Billy a piercing look and, coughing, Billy stared at his plate. But then conversation resumed again with more questions about England, and after a time they were exchanging stories and all laughing.
But the carefree air had flown and by midnight had been replaced by tense silence. The darkness of the apartment was broken only by a tiny flickering candle as Billy and Juliette took up opposite ends of the table, both watching Henry, who paced smoking endless cigars, the lines around his mouth deepening.
What a terrible risk they were taking, Juliette thought. What if he found out? Had he posted a reward for her return, or sent messengers about the city? But now was no time to ask as the ticking of the large English clock became the only sound.
It seemed hours had passed before a knock came at the door. Immediately they were all on their feet and, putting her hood in place, Juliette followed the men down the stairs and into the star-speckled night.
The hour was late, and the streets deserted except for shadows that darted from the alcoves and side streets and back again and eyes that peered from niches and stairways. And moving quickly along, Juliette kept in mind Henry's assurances that they were only stray cats and dogs.
The streets were covered by thick dust, and twisted and turned until she lost all sense of direction and the smell of camel dung and urine grew stronger. Then, after walking further than Juliette could ever remember walking before, they finally turned off onto a side street and wound narrowly up an incline terminating in heaped garbage which rustled loudly as rats scattered at their approach.
Only the flame of a single candle flickered within a rag shrouded window a short distance up the hill and Juliette bit her lip uncertainly as Henry began leading them directly toward it.
Weren't they supposed to be going to the harbor? She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She looked both left and right over her shoulder. Yesterday, feeling safe, she had taken a moment to delight in imagining Brandon's reaction when he found she had escaped. Then she had savored the thought of his frustration and anger.
But now, vulnerable again, the memory of those devilish black eyes was a different matter. He had raped her for denying him, nearly drowned her for insulting him. No doubt his guards were searching for her. And what might he do if he found her now?
Pressing her palm against her fluttering stomach, Juliette glanced at Henry and Billy who seemed tense as she. Certainly they must be taking all possible precautions, she thought, and not wanting to increase their burden by asking foolish questions, she remained silent.
The darkness obscured the details of the house as they reached a wooden door which Henry opened and held for her. The room was small and, in the dim light, Juliette could see the walls were mud blocks, chipped and ragged, and dirty palm mats covered the floor. The air was dank with the smell of unwashed bodies and a sweet musky odor and, though she could see no one, Juliette sensed the presence of others.
Reaching for Henry, she touched his sleeve. "I thought we were going straight to the ship," she whispered, her eyes expanding as they swept the shadowed walls. "Why have we come here?"
Fondly, Henry patted the hand that clung to his arm. "I'm picking up two additional crew members," he said. "It's part of the captain's conditions for letting you aboard."
"Oh," Juliette said, although the squalor made her uneasy and the smells a little nauseated.
"It seems the men we're expecting haven't arrived yet," Henry continued. "It may be a wait of an hour or more. These Arabs aren't exact about time. You'll need a place to rest. It's still a long walk to the ship." And turning, he spoke in low Arabic to the darkness.
Like magic, a face melted from the shadows into the candlelight. It was a coldly emotionless face, a man's, with a scar running the length of his cheek and across one eye so it squinted half-closed.
The man answered and Henry appeared to thank him. Then Juliette felt the Englishman's sure hand in the middle of her back propelling her forward.
"But I don't want to leave you," Juliette whispered as they moved along a hall.
"Nonsense. You'll be perfectly safe here. Safer in fact, since we won't risk anyone seeing you."
He was right, of course, Juliette reasoned. This was a sailor's den of some kind, frequented by many, and someone might spot her and ruin everything. She nodded a movement she soon began to regret as they neared a door at
the end of a short hall. Beyond the illuminated ring of Henry's candle there was a scuffling and a squeak, which Juliette assured herself was not a rat.
A small push against the door revealed a small room, a narrow bed, and a single stool in the middle of a straw strewn floor.
Henry held the candle high and sighed with disappointment. "Well," he said, "these are hardly accommodations for a lady, but they will have to do. I'm sorry better arrangements weren't made, but at least you won't take a chance of being seen here, I can assure you of that."
Glancing around the cubicle, Juliette forced herself to smile good-naturedly even as a shiver crept up her spine. "I suppose it is the best there is to offer," she said. "Anyway, now is not the time to concern oneself with luxury."
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