Leaping up, the man retreated from the virago before him, lifting his arms to protect his eyes from the battling madwoman. The crazed woman was shrieking at the top of her lungs. He spared no thought for how ludicrous he looked with his pants drooping about his hips, his now limp penis an accurate indicator of his terror and lost passion. Fear squeezed his heart, and his belly felt hollow. At this rate, she would have the entire harem on top of them in minutes!.
"Laihla,” he groaned, “We are lost, los—oof.” His last word broke off as the breath was knocked out of him by the blow landing against his breast-bone. A flurry of blows followed the first, and the terrified man backed away before the advance of the mad English female.
The aim of her next series of blows proved she was no longer content with just ripping at his face. When she launched a hard kick at his exposed, vulnerable groin area, the man grabbed at the menace in a horrified effort to stave off injury to what, to him, was a much more important area than his face. He might not be a full man, able to father children, but he treasured his functioning equipment dearly. With renewed determination, he caught at the intruder, yanking her close to him, where she could not effectively continue her attack.
In response, Merridyth jerked forward, butting her captor in the stomach with her head, then backed out of his reach as he doubled over from the blow. Yelling a string of scathing invectives in her native tongue, she returned to the attack. A quick movement caused her foot to catch on the rucked edge of the embroidered throw rug, and she yelled again in startled surprise as her feet flew out from under her. She fell hard. The sharp crack of her head hitting the side of the oaken bed platform sounded loudly in the small cubicle.
The sound roused Laihla from the stunned stupor that had held her immobile since she had looked up to see Merridyth bearing down on them like an avenging angel. Shuddering, Laihla thanked Allah, The All-Merciful, that in her agitation, Merridyth had spoken only her native English, for though it had felt like an eternity, the whole debacle had lasted only seconds. It might be possible to salvage the situation if she acted quickly.
Rising with alacrity, she bent down to check the unconscious girl, ignoring, for the moment, the terrified sputtering of her lover. Merri did not move nor respond, but her breathing was slow and steady. Searching, Laihla found a large bump on the left side of Merridyth's head, covered—thank Allah—by the natural fall of her hair. Luckily, it was the only injury she found.
Laihla looked up from her inspection to see Amil cowering just inside the door-curtain, his body quivering with the lingering residue of a massive adrenaline surge. He was struggling with the fastening of his pants, his unsteady hands taking too long to accomplish the task, his heart beating hard and fast in his laboring chest.
"I didn't mean to hurt her,” he wailed, twisting up the corded string of his pants in anguished fear. “Is she dead? What shall we do?” His questions stumbled over themselves.
"She is not dead.” Laihla answered briskly. She moved over to the doorway and cautiously peeped out. The way was clear. Turning back to Amil, keeping her words low and hurried, she said, “She will be all right, but you must go quickly. The other women will be here any minute to see what caused all that commotion. You must not be here. We are incredibly lucky that there was no one nearby."
"How can I leave you to face this, alone?” he asked. “Let me stay,” he entreated his lover, his fear overcome by his caring.
"No!” Laihla answered sharply. “Shall we both die? Go. I can handle this,” she assured him confidently. She frowned as she watched Amil bite his lip and scuff his feet, not quite meeting her eyes.
"Go.” She commanded again, feeling like strangling the fool. What a time to play the hero, she fumed silently, breathing a relieved sigh when he finally nodded and whisked himself around the curtain and out of her sight, whispering a final good-bye.
And it was good-bye, though he knew it not. Shaking, Laihla silently acknowledged her overwhelming arrogance. She had been careless beyond belief to risk meeting with him with so much happening in the harem, yet the temptation had been so hard to resist. Without the electrifying thrill of danger, she had not really felt alive, had never felt that essential spark needed to ratify her existence. But this time she had come too close to the edge, too close to falling over the cliff of discovery.
Discovery, she realized, was not the exciting experience her imagined fancies had led her to believe. Life, despite its boredom, was too sweet to gamble in needless risk-taking. Had they been discovered by any other than Merridyth. Laihla trembled anew at the thought, promising herself she would never again test fate so recklessly.
She was struggling to get Merri's limp body off the floor and onto the bed by the time the army of curious women invaded her privacy.
Anera, Laihla's personal odalisque, was the first to arrive, and Laihla mutely motioned one-handedly for help, saving her breath as she supported Merridyth's waist to prevent her slumping back to the floor. It was a good thing Anera was a big, strapping woman from the Taurus mountain ranges of Turkey—a harsh environment that bred strength and endurance in its inhabitants—for Merri was no lightweight. Together, they worked to get the unconscious girl comfortably ensconced on Laihla's raised pallet.
"What happened here? Who was doing all that yelling?"
Laihla groaned, recognizing the voice issuing the authoritative questions. She looked up to see Abla—Elder Sister they called her, her real name having long been lost in the mists of her harem history—standing framed in the doorway, her arms akimbo at her waist. Some whispered that Abla was a witch who could curse as well as bless. Though merely a servant, she held much power in the harem, and only a fool, or the uninformed, challenged her. Even the Agasi deferred to her when he could do so without losing face.
Huffing a resigned sigh, Laihla faced the ancient crone, knowing she must choose her words carefully for the old woman was a terrible gossip. Whatever was said in the next few minutes would be retold at the Carriage House gate before an hour was past, and whispered in the avid ears of the Sultan's spies soon after.
"The English came to visit,” she invented quickly. “She needed relief from caring for—,” she gestured towards the section where the new entrants of the harem slept—"Hanim arkadas; the kari kirmizi.” She would not speak the ill one's name, yet all the women crowded together in her doorway knew whom she meant, and quickly raised their hands, tracing the sign to ward off evil, even while nodding in sympathy.
"We teach each other our words ... the words of Londra and the words of Türkiye. I think we will learn more if we use these words in fun, so we play the Stones, and she becomes excited. She has ugur. She gains zafer! And then ... zahmet; she rises to dance the zafer dance, and her foot entangles in this treacherous carpet.” She kicked the offending item.
"She calls out in fear as she falls. She strikes her head against the side of the platform. See, here is the spot—” She dramatically pointed to the corner where Merri's head had impacted. “You can see the blood there."
The women pressed forward to inspect this evidence, a sharp cry sounding from the midst of the crowd when an unfortunate woman inadvertently barred Abla's view.
After examining the evidence, the ladies in front obligingly squeezed over to allow the women in back a chance to see also, but they were very careful not to give up their vantage point.
"They are weak, these gâvurlar,” Laihla said, silently asking Merri's forgiveness for maligning her courage. “When she saw her own blood, she screeched like a tavuk in it's ölüm, and fell down in a swoon, and has not yet roused."
Abla nodded sagely after deliberating on the facts. “With so small an injury, she will no doubt awaken soon.” She shook her head, features creased in disappointment. “With all that yelling, we had hoped it would be something more exciting—” She broke off with a shrug when she noticed Laihla's disapproving stare.
"Not that we really wish her harm, mind you,” she continued off-handedly, “bu
t you know how we all live for something different, something ... titillating to happen within these walls. It is not often we have even the small excitement these three have offered lately,” she finished meaningfully. She shot Laihla a private look that had her heart up in her throat.
Abla knew.
Having just acknowledged, and rued, her own penchant for the dark drug of danger, Laihla could not help but agree with Abla's words. She contented herself with saying, “She has become my arkadas.” Her words gave notice to all that the two had formed a harem alliance.
Again, Abla nodded; her eyes both knowing and sad as she issued her dire warning. “This one is not for you to play with. She is destined for great things. Stand far back from her, or your life will flow in strange and dangerous channels."
No one knew how Abla saw and foretold the things she did, yet she had been right countless numbers of times. Only a fool would ignore the information she offered. Recognizing a seeing, Laihla bowed her head in submission, yet she raised her chin defiantly.
"I accept, and thank you for your warning,” she said sincerely, “Yet, I repeat, we are friends. What kind of friend would I be if I stood afar off, knowing there was zahmet ahead?"
"If you remain on this course,” the old woman foretold, “soon the harem will know you no more. The pallet where you now sleep will house a new kadin; a light skinned, light haired kadin who will give the Sultan a girl child. Bu is istemez olecak."
Laihla sank to her knees. It sounded as if Abla had seen her death. Almost in tears, she said, “I accept my kismet. I am honored that you seek to aid me."
Seeing that she had been heeded, Abla nodded, then clapped her hands sharply hustling the crowd of ladies and servants away from Laihla's apartment with a few pithy words. “Come.” she cried, “Let us depart. Simsiyah gül is in need of quiet and rest to recover from this mild overset."
"Have you named her, then?” came a naive question from one of the lingering servants.
"Sakin kul!” Her own mistress admonished her with a hard slap. “Isimler are for the Sultan alone."
The harem ladies slowly departed, looking over their shoulders, and whispering among themselves as they went. Though none spoke it aloud, all knew the Sultan would give the English girl the very name just spoken by Abla. They had seen such before, and with Abla, would doubtless see it again. Somehow, the name suited the girl for she bore the striking coloring of the rare jet-black rose whose signature beauty was a fine pink blushing of velvety petals nestled deep in the heart of the darkest flower.
Chapter Twenty-three
...I mean it. If I do not hear something soon, I might just send Jason over there to find out what you are really doing. I cannot believe you could be so reticent when you know how I yearn for news of my son. First you, then he writes, asking about one woman in particular. What does this mean? Is Jared finally ready to take up the task of proving his innocence? I certainly hope so, for I need him home. It has been over two years now, and while Jason is proving himself to be a good student of land management, still the land and the tenants miss the masterful way Jared took care of business. Besides all that, I miss him. Give me some information, or I will garner it for myself.—Determined Emily
Chapter Twenty-four
"Oh, my head...” Merri lifted a shaking hand to probe the tender, throbbing spot over her left ear. With the amount of pain she was feeling, it did not surprise her to feel the good-sized lump that had developed.
"I am glad you have regained your senses."
A cool cloth landed over her forehead, and Merri cautiously opened her eyes to find Laihla hovering over her.
"I am so sorry you tripped on the rug in your excitement over our game,” Laihla continued, her words deliberately spaced, voice heavy with hints and meaning, her eyes demanding and pleading all at once.
Merri's confused gaze swept the room. With the exception of a tall odalisque who stood at attention by the curtained doorway, they were alone in the small cubicle.
"What happened to—?"
"Does your head hurt much?” Laihla interjected, cutting off Merri's half-formed question. “Shall I send Anera for the court physician?"
"No,” Merri answered slowly, her eyes coming up to meet Laihla's, a tardy enlightenment coming over her features.
"I ... did I ... win, then?"
"Yes."
"Well, I hope it was worth all this pain.” Merri groaned.
"You won a great thing. A fortune."
Merri could not decide if the glint in Laihla's eyes were tears or laughter.
"You were not ... hurt ... by my winning, were you?” Merridyth asked, her gaze probing desperately, seeking understanding.
A large grin erupted on the Black woman's face. Her full lips parted over beautiful white teeth as she threw back her head, laughing with delight. “I am fine. I am so glad it was to you I lost. It was a great ... diversion ... seeing you ... play so energetically. And as for me, I promise you, no harm was done."
"I am glad,” Merri murmured quietly. “Yet, I find my head does hurt dreadfully after all. Perhaps you could send for that physician, now?"
"At once.” Laihla made a quick gesture towards the door, and Anera slipped through the curtain running to fetch the court surgeon. And to inform the others that the kari gâvur was awake.
Merri struggled to sit up as soon as Anera cleared the door. “Now that she's gone, will you please tell me what was really happening?” she beseeched the dark beauty. “I thought you were being attacked by that man, yet I must have been mistaken. The truth, please?"
"Of course, the truth,” Laihla replied, “for are we not Arkadaslar?"
"Yes, friends.” Merri smiled.
"It was a daring thing I did,” Laihla boasted, “for that was Amil, my lover. He is a functioning eunuch.” When she saw Merridyth did not understand, she explained, in explicit, cheek-reddening detail just what the term meant.
"So you see, while Amil has been rendered incapable of fathering children, he can still sustain an erection. As for what he was doing when you entered—,” she shrugged, a cat-smooth smile coming to her generous mouth. She licked her plump lips in remembered contentment. “Have you not yet reached the lessons on gathering honey?"
"No, and I do not understand what you are saying,” Merri shook her head in frustration, then winced at the stabbing pain which resulted. “Explain this gathering honey. It didn't look pleasurable. Actually, it looked painfully uncomfortable to me. And you did not sound as if you were enjoying it. In fact, it was the anguished sounds I heard while standing outside your room that caused me to believe you to be under attack."
"You are a true innocent,” Laihla taunted her, not unkindly, “virgin in mind as well as flesh. Why, it is a crime.” the long-time harem resident declared, sounding shocked and disbelieving. “You have no experience at all."
"Of course I am inexperienced,” Merri exclaimed, feeling, for some unfathomable reason as if she had been insulted or found lacking. “I am an unmarried lady."
"You are an ignorant woman.” Laihla returned in disgust. “It is a miserable shame the way you Western women are kept in such sensual darkness. It is good you are being trained in the arts of love for the training is not only to teach you what men enjoy. It will also allow you to uncover your own inner sensuality; the true core of your femaleness. The lessons will teach you to reach for your own deep enjoyment. You will come to know and expect a pleasure so intense, it can border on the most exquisite pain."
Merri looked thoughtful remembering the scene she had witnessed. In retrospect, the grimace she'd seen on Laihla's face took on a new meaning and the whimpers—could they have been caused, not by pain, but by a pleasure so great? Merri could feel her cheeks heating as she asked, “Is that what you were feeling ... a ... a painful pleasure?"
She colored up brightly at Laihla's nod and low chuckle. “You must have been angry with me, then,” she said in a small voice, feeling foolish, “for interrupting you.” Mer
ri had thought she was coming to a friend's rescue, being so concerned and brave, when all she had done was disturb a lovers’ tryst that they must have worked hard to contrive.
"No, indeed no.” Laihla caught Merri's hands and her attention. “Hear me. You taught me a much-needed lesson. Yes, you did,” she added emphatically when Merri shook her head in disparagement. “I had grown too complaisant and much too arrogant. Eventually we were bound to be caught in our carelessness. I am glad it was you."
"I am so ashamed,” Merridyth moaned, her cheeks glowing bright red.
"Ne var utanacak?” Laihla shrugged, unconcerned.
"Perhaps not ashamed, but ... well ... I was definitely embarrassed.” Merri rolled her eyes in disgust at her own naiveté. “Busting in here and ... And...” she moaned again, her hands coming up to hide her hot face as she said, “Why, I saw that man with his face buried in your ... in your ... buried there.” Her eyes involuntarily journeyed to the vee of Laihla's thighs, then shot away in even deeper mortification.
"I simply question why you need feel shame or embarrassment when I do not.” Laihla soothed the agitated woman, yet she had been aware of where Merri's eyes went. “Truly, you are a cocuk, a bebek in these matters. I will help you. I will bring you along gently. You will see.,” she promised, “Ecstasy, pleasure, feeling at ease with your own womanhood; all these things are right and good, and you will enjoy them more than you can now imagine."
"I fear I shall never grow accustomed to this place and its practices,” Merridyth said, heaving a massive sigh. She lay back down and closed her eyes. Reopened them, and shot straight into an upright position. She gasped at the agony that exploded in her temple with the injudicious movement.
"I remember what I came to see you about.” she exclaimed in a whisper after recovering from the burst of pain. “I need advice on how to approach the Mistress or maybe the Kislar Agasi. It is imperative I speak with one of them regarding—"
Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets Page 16