* * * *
High in the Riza mountains, Jamal lay close to the campfire, his blankets carefully spread to protect the three mewling Ounce cubs huddled tightly together, their small bodies shivering in the chill night air despite the fur they were covered with. Though spring was far advanced in the low-lands, this high up, the mountain was still encased in a winter-like frost.
Earlier that morning, when their group had accidentally come upon the lair of a recently-delivered Ounce and her three cubs, Jamal had been forced to kill the mother, who had been a fierce opponent in the protection of her cubs. Sickened by the needless death of so worthy an adversary, Jamal had refused to allow the others of his group to skin her and use her pelt for profit. The rosette pelts of the mountain Ounce, more commonly called Snow leopards, were highly prized among the Turks, and the young nobles argued repeatedly that it would be a shame not to take the fur. After all, the mother no longer needed it..
Their words made sense to Jamal. His companions were shocked, however, when he dressed out the mother cat's fur and wrapped her three orphaned cubs in it. Again, they attempted to reason with him. There was little hope of the cubs surviving without their mother. There was no rhyme or reason to his actions.. Jamal, focusing his tigerish eyes upon each of his companions, had informed then coldly and finally that he would not abandon the cubs.
All argument ceased. The six young men had been about court often enough to recognize an Imperial air. In his anger, Jamal closely resembled his father, the Sultan. The jovial spirit of the hunting trip decreased from that moment. Jamal had inadvertently pulled rank, and the young nobles were now very aware of his position and power. To the Turks, their Sultan was a half-step down from Allah. And Jamal was not only his firstborn son, but his oldest male relative; by Ottoman law, the next Sultan.
By mutual, unspoken agreement, the men decided to cut short their trip and begin the long journey back to the spring palace at Istanbul. On the morrow, they would descend from these heights and finish their trek out of the mountains.
Wide awake, Jamal watched the burning stars above him, feeling alone, and set apart. From the other side of the fire, he could hear the soft rustling of clothes and bedrolls as his companions paired off in their usual couplings. Not long after, the slurping sounds of lips devouring cocks and the sharp wet sucking noise that accompanied cocks sinking in and out of tight male asses rose around him...
Shortly thereafter, the groaning sounds of male pleasure and release rose on the thin night air, and while he had no inclination to join them, still Jamal felt isolated. Lonely. Turning, he leaned over to check his little charges. They were sleeping soundly ... something he doubted he would do this night.
Upon arrival in Turkey, Jamal had been shocked at the openness with which the cadomite way was practiced among both the nobles and the royal soldiers, called Janizzaries. The men thought nothing of flaunting their male affairs and often coupled in plain sight of others when their ardor overtook them.
He by no means considered himself a prude, but he found the public fucking discomfited him. Though sodomy was illegal in England, he knew lonely boys at Eton often sought comfort, turning to the older upperclassmen, who eagerly introduced them to dark seduction of male on male love.
Grown to manhood, he had refused to sit in judgement of those schoolmates and remained friends with a few of them though he knew they still secretly practiced the act society deemed deviant.
While he had always been a believer in living his life and allowing others to live theirs, he often felt uncomfortable with many of the Ottoman ways. Now he lay listening to the soft susurration of lovers’ voices whispering in the chill dark. He could see tiny pinpricks of light that were the glowing tips of hand-rolled cigarettes wafting up and down. He felt his own need arise as he heard the sounds of sexual activity, and his body reacted. Through the long night, he lay watching the stars, pondering the many different customs he had encountered while living in the Grand Seraglio...
Hours later, pale fingers of light crept over the top of the mountain, gently touching upon the open eyes of the quiet, wakeful man. A cool breeze skittered the loose leaves, dancing them about, moving on to ruffle the edge of a blanket, tickle an exposed toe. It blew playfully across Jamal's face. And he felt something ... a pressure building about him, a picture forming...
She stood leaning against the railing of a Turkish brigantine. Her hair and body obscured from sight, covered in voluminous folds of cream drapery. He recognized her. Her eyes shone stark gray above the veil hiding her lower face. Her gaze held remembered torment and present sadness, and his heart twisted in agony that he had not been there to help her in her time of need. This was not the bright girl he had last seen in the courtroom, but a woman tempered by fire. How she shone.... His woman. A light sparked spreading from her eyes and brightening, glowing and expanding until the brilliant haze obscured her image...
And reality intruded. Jamal lay with his right forearm pressed across his stinging eyes trying to hold the after-image of his Love. It had burned into his retina, yet now faded against the dark screen of his closed lids slipping away even as he strove to hold it close. A vision? He wondered and didn't know. A dream? Perhaps just his heart's knowing that she was close., maybe even here in Turkey. He didn't know how he knew, but the knowledge within him was sure.
Restlessly, Jamal flung back his covers. His sudden movement woke his small charges, and his eyes lit upon the three startled cubs mewling pitifully at the sudden cold rush of air. Bending, Jamal picked up one cub after the other. Two were male, the other female. All three cubs had clear, luminous silvery-gray eyes. Her eyes. It seemed but one more omen to him.
Flinging his head back, Jamal gave in to the joyous shout welling up from deep within him, startling his companions awake. “We ride.” he shouted, new life bubbling and boiling up in him. Seething in him. Driven by anticipation, spurred by a hope shining with an almost feral light, he bundled the cubs warmly while harrying his sleepy party.
Breakfast was a rushed affair. The nobles whispered among themselves as they readied themselves for the long journey. Casting wondering gazes on their leader, they shook their heads at his frantic energy. From the looks of him, they expected to ride hard and long this day. For some reason, the Prince was now in a hurry to reach home.
Chapter Sixteen
Jared—
I am so sorry. I have not been able to locate a girl of good family that meets your description. I have had all my cronies haunting Almacks. Surely, if she were of age, and acceptable, she would eventually be seen at that bastion of the haut ton. No one has caught sight of anyone remotely like the girl you have written asking me about. I shall, of course, continue the search for you. You know how intrigued I am. It sounds as though you are smitten ... I know you have no intention of enlightening me. Still, as your mother, I feel I should at least be informed of the fact if you are now considering marriage. Has some new evidence come to light regarding your situation? If not, how would you go about courting this Miss should I find her? I also beg to remind you that you have put my own marriage plans on hold. A little dog-in-the-mangerish, do you not agree?—Mum
Chapter Seventeen
Selim—What have you done? My son is looking for a woman that has been missing for over five months now. He met her at his trial and was instantly intrigued. I tell you about it and a short while later she is nowhere to be found. Is this your doing? If so, I am extremely upset and angry with you. I thought you had learned what could come of interfering with other people's lives. On your head be it. I do not want Jared to think I was even slightly involved in something like this, if it is indeed what you have done. What on earth could you possibly be planning?—Angry Emily
Chapter Eighteen
Istanbul, Turkey
May 1801
The Grand Seraglio was a world within itself. The hugely sprawling palace housed the thousands needed to minister to the private and administrative needs of the Sultan. Both t
he Sultan's private quarters, or Mabeyn, as well as the public offices known as the Divans, were housed within the massive gates that shut out the world. And it was here, since the middle 1500's, that the members of the royal harem were incarcerated.
Located between the Mabeyn and the apartments of the chief Black eunuch, or Kislar Agasi; literally “master of the girls", the harem consisted of almost four hundred rooms, all centered around the Courtyard of the Valide Sultana, containing the apartments and dormitories of the lesser women. Connected to the outside world by the Carriage House gate—which opened at dawn and closed at dusk—and the Bird House gate, the harem was assiduously guarded from within by the corps of eunuchs and, outside, by Halberdiers, or royal guards devoted to the sequestering of the Sultan's females.
Enclosed and shut away from the outside world, the women and children of the Sultan's family, their slaves and servants, existed in a private, jealously guarded environment that revolved around the whims and vagaries of one man. The harem seethed with intrigue and danger. The politics of sex was the road to power and many wielded that weapon with a ruthless, sharp-edged expertise that left untold numbers of rivals dead. In powerful contrast, there were often close, fiercely loyal friendships forged through shared adversity that flourished despite the constant intrigue always fomenting in the “curtained world".
Competition, ever rampant among the harem occupants, was not allowed to impact upon these friendships. Those who chose to enter into such a pact had learned that ultimately the women confined together in the elaborate, opulent cage could depend only on each other.
It was into this turbulent, shifting, confused atmosphere that Merridyth, Susan and Seana were thrust. In the absence of a Valide Sultana, the three captives had been presented to the Mistress of the House, who, having been told the girls were to be offered to the young Emir, immediately started them on an intense course of study in the Turkish language, palace etiquette, and the Islamic culture. There were also lessons in the Eastern style of dance, poetry, and musical instruments. And, as a matter of course, taking their future roles into account, they were expected to master the many erotic arts needed to please their new master. Problems arose at once.
* * * *
Laihla, a lithe Black woman who had entered the harem over four years before on her thirteenth birthday, was lying in her cubicle, indolently awaiting her lover. Unlike the three new captives, Laihla had willingly entered the “curtained world” to escape the poverty that had been her lot as the youngest daughter in a family of eight children. Since her fate was to be sold, she preferred selling herself into the most advantageous circumstances she could manage.
She was blessed with delicate features. Large liquid brown eyes set in a face of surpassing dark beauty; a beauty she cultivated carefully, and which had caught the eye of the Sultan in her second year. She had spent two wonderfully frightening nights in the royal bedchambers.. As a result, she now occupied a private cubicle in the women's seraglio. It wasn't much; a curtained-off area that contained a couch, a trunk where she stored a few precious personal items, and a low table that held a squat brass lamp. It was more than most had.
Laihla had lost the Sultan's interest as easily as she had caught it and was never recalled after her second night. She regretted only her failure to become pregnant from the two times she had visited the Sultan's bed. Had she borne a child, male or female, she would now be a Sultana, and entitled to live in a sumptuous two-room apartment with real walls that fronted on the courtyard. Along with the apartment would have come two Odalisques, or room-girls, and a eunuch servant.
Laihla let go of her “might-have-beens” with an inward shrug. Except for a constant boredom, she was content. She had the comfort of privacy while the majority of the women shared common sleeping barracks and a thin pallet with a lidded wicker basket at its foot where they could store their meager belongings. To conquer the pervasive ennui that she and every other woman immured in the seraglio faced daily, she had the dangerous intrigue of her love affair with Amil, a White eunuch.
The White eunuchs’ apartments were outside the women's section of the harem, but when one had a great enough need, the women's quarters could be reached by going through the Black eunuchs’ quarters and exiting out their courtyard, which was adjacent to the courtyard of the Kadins. Since there were only two Kadins at the present time, Amil had little worries of being caught in a section of the harem where he, as an intact eunuch, had no business being. The tricky part was getting through the Black eunuchs’ territory without being questioned. Luckily, he had arranged with Ory—a Black eunuch he had known for a long time—for safe passage.
Amil and Ory were friends. The deeply devoted kind of friendship that was possible between two “hairless ones". Ory's sexual orientation was firmly towards males, and at one time, he had been highly attracted to Amil. But Amil was still attracted to females, and he'd gently rebuffed Ory's overtures. Things had been strained between them until Ory fell in love with a young eunuch newly assigned to the Mistress of the girls. So once again, they were comfortable in their friendship, and for the love Ory still remembered, he was willing to be drawn into an intrigue so that Amil might see his dangerous lady-love.
A sound alerted her and Laihla looked up through sultry eyes to see Amil silhouetted against her thin curtains. Raising her arms, she silently beckoned to her lover to join her in her cubicle. Amil glanced around, sweeping the area with cautious care, making sure he had not been seen. With a twitch of the concealing curtains, he entered the room. “My—"
"Shh-h-h.” A slim Black hand quickly covered his mouth. “Yaz Çiçek is asleep in her cubicle,” Laihla warned quietly, “And while I believe she will not betray us, I am not willing to put it to the test unless it is unavoidable."
"You are right, my Dove,” Amil whispered. Both knew what they were doing was punishable by death. Laihla had been bedded by the Sultan. As long as he lived, it was unlawful for her to have another man unless she were given away in marriage by the Sultan himself. “I would not like to lose that which gives you and I such pleasure,” he continued, reaching between his legs to cup the erection that rose, swollen and pulsing at his groin.
Laihla licked her lips at the salacious sight. Amil was a functioning eunuch. As a child, his stones had been crushed, leaving him unable to father children, but still capable of achieving and maintaining an erection. If Laihla were caught with a complete eunuch, she would most likely suffer a severe punishment. If she were caught with Amil, who could penetrate her—Oh, how he penetrated her—she would be tortured and killed. Yet this rush of excitement mixed with fear was worth any risk..
Laihla's eyes widened as she followed the path of Amil's hand. She ran a moist tongue over dry lips as she watched him slip out of his loose tunic and pants. Her heart kicked into overdrive as his pale, compact body came into full view. He was beautifully built and hung like a bull. His organ looked even larger when seen against the shriveled, empty sacs of his testes. He used a hand-over-hand motion to milk himself as he waited for Laihla to remove her clothes. “We shall proceed quietly ... but quickly. Quickly.” he demanded.
She was already wet, dripping, when he came between her open thighs. Rearing back on her elbows she let out an ululating moan, and there was a sudden noise and movement in the next cubicle. Amil's hand came up quickly to cover her mouth, eyes wide in startled fear. She laughed low and huskily, arching her back to offer her full breasts to his mouth while urging him with hoarse, hushed pleas to ride her hard and deep. Harder. Deeper. Even the glorious feel of his rod pumping strongly within her paled next to the delicious, shivery threat of discovery...
* * * *
The Mistress of the House, Niaya, was incensed at the stubbornness of her three new charges and highly frightened of what the Sultan would have to say about her failure to present them trained and ready, as commanded. As female overseer of the harem, she would be held accountable for the English girls’ untrained status. Having been forbidde
n to mark them or even frighten them unduly, another flogging so soon after the first was out of the question. It was for this reason she had requested an audience with the Kislar Agasi.
As the “Sultan's voice in the harem” and the voice of authority over all the eunuchs, she needed to seek his guidance and cooperation to deal with the backwards girls. She shifted from foot to foot unused to the feelings of inadequacy roiling through her. Never before had she failed at any given task. Her gaze swept quickly over the man before her, then just as quickly lowered to the floor. It would not do for the Kislar Agasi to catch her gawking at him.
The Kislar Agasi was an enormous Black eunuch. His six feet plus of massive fat was covered by the finest black silk raiment. His shaved head sported a black velvet fez with a golden-thread tassel. He was aware of the power he wielded and carried himself accordingly. Now he stood amidst the luxuries of his apartments awaiting the Mistress of the House, whom he'd ordered to attend him.
His feet were splayed wide in a stance that shouted of control. His pudgy, beringed hands were fisted at his hips. He eyed the trembling woman before him and smiled inside. Theirs was a rivalry that spanned years. The gimlet-eyed hag had always resented his early rise to power. Years ago, she had backed the wrong eunuch and now had to scramble for whatever power and influence she could garner. How he relished having this uppity whore at a disadvantage.. Whatever she wanted, he would not make it easy for her—
"Well, woman.” he boomed, his basso voice so powerful she fancied she felt its vibrations travel through the floor, up her legs, to quaver in her belly. “What is this problem you cannot deal with?"
The Mistress quailed. She'd known he would do that ... bring it down to what she could not accomplish without his help. Her eyes flashed with rage, but she kept her head down until she had control of the anger. She would not give him another weapon to use, she vowed silently. “The three girls set aside for the gavür Emir refuse all attempts at training."
Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets Page 13