by Anne Herries
of her father’s home when her mother died. She had been
fourteen then, already a pretty girl but inclined to solitary walks
and study. Lady Nash had spoken often of her lovely daughter’s
future marriage, but after her death it had been forgotten. Eleanor
liked it that way.
To be a wife meant servitude. As a much-loved and indulged
daughter, Eleanor had a freedom she might lose if she married.
Sir Wiliam was an enlightened man. He had taught his daughter
to enjoy study for its own sake, and her inteligence delighted
him. She spoke French fluently, a little Italian, and could read
some Arabic and Latin, of course. Her main interest was ancient
history, which she could discuss at a level above most men of
equal rank, and she had thought that when the time came for
them to leave England, she would enjoy seeing the places of
which she had only read.
Indeed, she had enjoyed her visits to Venice and Rome,
drinking in the beauty of old palaces and wonderful scenery. It
was only since they had come to the vila that she had begun to
feel restless.
Count Giovani Salvadore was too attentive! He made
Eleanor feel as if he were trying to smother her with his
generosity and his compliments caused her to be uneasy. She
was afraid he meant to ask for her hand in marriage. Eleanor was
almost sure Sir Wiliam would consult her in the matter, but she
almost sure Sir Wiliam would consult her in the matter, but she
could not be certain. She would not feel comfortable until they
were on the ship taking them to Cyprus!
‘There you are, Eleanor! Father sent me to find you.’
Eleanor saw her brother coming towards them and went
forward eagerly to meet him. At fifteen, he was slight and fair, a
merry, happy boy—and she loved him dearly.
‘I am sorry if I worried you, Dickon.’
‘Father wants to talk to you,’ Richard said, his smile shy and
engaging. ‘He has something to show you—an iluminated
manuscript. He wants you to help him decipher it.’
At last! Eleanor felt her spirits lift. She had missed working
with her beloved father on his colection of old manuscripts. He
was beginning to build them up again. When they had their own
house, everything would be as it always had been. Sir Wiliam
would not force her to marry. He cared for her too much!
She glanced at the Count and smiled. ‘Forgive me, signor. I
must go. My father waits for me.’
‘Oh, Father!’ Eleanor cried as she saw the manuscript for the
first time. ‘I do not think I have ever seen anything quite as
lovely.’
The manuscript was tiny, and when roled could be stored in
a space no larger than the handle of a woman’s fan. Its container
was made of pure gold and inlaid with emeralds and pearls, and
there was a loop to suspend it from a chain or a ribbon so that it
could be worn on the person.
could be worn on the person.
‘It is writ in Arabic,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘But my eyes are not
good enough to make out the words.’
The script was very smal, though the decoration of gold leaf,
rich crimson and deep blue was as clear and bright as the day it
had been painstakingly inscribed.
‘It is a part of the Qur’an,’ Eleanor said. ‘Or the Koran, as
the Western world would name the Muslim’s holy script. But
there is an introduction…it praises the goodness of Alah, and
asks for his blessing…’ She paused. ‘I think it says for the
Abbey of the Far Cross…surely that cannot be, Father? I do not
understand—would an Islamic prayer ask for Alah’s blessing on
a monastery?’
‘Yes, that it is correct,’ her father said and she saw the gleam
of excitement in his eyes. ‘It is the work of Abbot Gregorio. He
was a very learned man who lived at an Abbey on an isolated
island in Greek waters some three centuries ago. The monks
were a silent order, but they had many secrets and there were
legends of their fabulous wealth—though where it came from no
one knew. According to the story, the Abbot believed that al
religions stemmed from the same source and it is said that he was
very interested in Islam—but his great wisdom did him little
good. Not long after this manuscript would have been created,
the Abbey was burned to the ground by Saracens and al the
monks were slaughtered. No one knew what had happened to
the treasures of the Abbey. They were thought lost…’ Sir
Wiliam’s excitement was intense. ‘This was discovered in an
iron pot in the ground on Cyprus—on our land, Eleanor. Who
iron pot in the ground on Cyprus—on our land, Eleanor. Who
knows what more we may find hidden away?’
‘No, indeed, if the story be true—we might find untold
treasures.’ Eleanor caught her father’s excitement. ‘It is very
intriguing,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘This must be worth a
great deal in itself. Did Sir John send this to you?’
‘He writes that it was discovered when the gardeners were
working near to the house he purchased in my name. Knowing
of my interest in such things, he sent it with his warm wishes for
our speedy arrival.’
‘Does that mean that we are to leave Italy soon?
‘Yes. It pleases you that we are to leave this house?’ Sir
Wiliam’s eyes were a faded blue, his hair silvered by age but
showing traces of the gold it had once been. ‘Have you not been
happy here, daughter? The Count has been kind…’
‘Very kind, Father—but I shal be happier when we are in
our own home and may begin to gather our things about us
again.’
‘My poor daughter,’ Sir Wiliam said, tenderness in his eyes.
‘You miss your books, I dare say. It was a pity we could not
bring more of them with us.’
‘We dare not seem to be packing everything,’ Eleanor
replied, a flicker of fear in her eyes as she recaled the way they
had been forced to flee in the night. ‘You were likely to be
arrested at any time. Your life is more important than books—
however precious.’
‘England is a dangerous place for a man who was known to
be a friend to Cranmer,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘Queen Mary senses
treachery in the actions of any man not of her own faith.’
‘But you took no part in any plot against her.’
‘No—yet I knew those who did,’ Sir Wiliam said and
shuddered. ‘Several of my friends had been seized and put to the
torture. I was warned that the same was planned for me. Had it
been myself alone…but I had you and your brother to consider,
Eleanor. Better a life in exile than a painful death. Fortunately, I have long traded with the merchants of Venice, and much of my
fortune was safe in Italy. We have good friends here and in
Venice—and Cyprus. But it is there that I believe we should
settle. Sir John is brother to your mother and a good, kindly
man. If anything should happen to me, he would take care of you
and Richard.’
‘Pray, Father
—do not speak of such things,’ Eleanor begged
him. A chil wind had seemed to blow across her heart as he
spoke and she was afraid, though she saw no reason for it. ‘You
are safe from those who would see you burned.’
She shuddered as she thought of the cruel deaths suffered by
the Archbishop Cranmer and others—and al done in God’s
name. She did not believe that the God she knew in her heart
would demand such wickedness—for it was surely wicked to kil
a man simply for worshipping in his own way. She thought that
she quite liked the ideas of the Abbot, who had embraced both
Christianity and Islam, though of course she would never dare to
voice those opinions aloud. The question of religion had caused
fierce fighting al over this region of the Mediterranean for
fierce fighting al over this region of the Mediterranean for
centuries, Christian against Muslim, west against east—and,
indeed, she could not condone the culture of the Eastern
potentates!
‘Yes, we are al safe, child,’ Sir Wiliam said and smiled at
her. ‘So you do not wish to marry Count Salvadore? You know
that he means to ask you before we leave?’
‘Please do not alow it,’ Eleanor pleaded. ‘Tel him that you
wish to settle in your own home before you consider the question
of my marriage.’
‘Very wel, Eleanor.’ He was not displeased by her decision,
because there was no hurry for her to marry. Sir John had a son
of twenty years. It was possible that the two might please each
other. ‘We leave the day after tomorrow. Sir John has sent his
own ship to carry us to our new home. It is a stout vessel and
wil have a precious cargo of rare treasures. Sir John trades
much with the ruler of the Ottoman Empire and he has spent
some months colecting pieces he thinks wil tempt the Sultan.’
‘Surely my mother’s brother would not trade with such a
man? From what you have told me, the Turks are barbaric! To
keep others as slaves for their benefit is a terrible sin, Father.’
‘Yes, Eleanor. It is a terrible sin, but you must remember
theirs is a different culture. These people are not al barbarians
by any means, though the Corsairs that plague these waters most
certainly are. I believe that amongst the ruling class there are
extremely clever men—and they have wise teachers. The rich
live in wonderful palaces; they are also advanced in many
things…medicine, for instance.’
things…medicine, for instance.’
‘Because they have Arab slaves,’ Eleanor replied scornfuly.
‘You told me that it was the Arabs who had wonderful
knowledge and skils in such things—not the Turks!’
‘In the Ottoman Empire there are many races blended into a
melting pot of talents and wisdom. These people have developed
the Devisherme system, Eleanor. That means that slaves—and
the children of slaves—who convert to the faith of Islam are
accepted into their society and alowed to prosper from their
various talents.’
‘Yet they remain slaves, subservient to the whim of their
master!’
‘In theory, yes,’ Sir Wiliam admitted, his eyes alight with
amusement. Such debates with his daughter were the bread of
life to him. He was more tolerant than Eleanor, who could lose
her temper when passionate about something—as she was now.
‘But I believe many of them rise to become powerful men—even
Bey of a province.’
‘But they are stil bound to their master!’
‘Every man, woman and child in the Empire is bound in some
way to the Sultan,’ her father replied. ‘He could order the death
of any subject who has displeased him—so the free men are no
more at liberty to do as they please than the slaves.’ His eyes
twinkled at her. ‘Are they so very different from us, Eleanor?
We were forced to leave our home because of the whim of a
Queen. I could have been seized, tortured and condemned for a
crime I had not committed.’
‘Yes, I know, Father.’ She shuddered. ‘I am aware that your
‘Yes, I know, Father.’ She shuddered. ‘I am aware that your
life was in danger and I thank God we escaped unharmed. But at
least in England they do not shut women in a harem al their
lives.’
‘No—but some Western women suffer as much as their
Eastern sisters. Disobedient women have been sent to a nunnery
against their wil, Eleanor, which is perhaps an even more harsh
life. I believe the Kadins are rather spoiled, pampered
creatures.’ He chuckled deep in his throat. ‘If ever you find
yourself in a harem, daughter, you must make yourself
indispensable to your master—that is the way to an easy life.’
‘Never! I would rather die. I wonder that you can even say
such a thing, Father.’
‘It was but a jest, my dear,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘I pray that you
never wil find yourself in such a place. You are right. I should
not have said anything of the kind. Please forgive me. Though I
would rather you fought for your life, my child, always remember
that whatever may be done to your body, your mind and soul
remains your own. Be true to yourself and to God and nothing
can harm you.’ He touched her head as if in blessing.
Eleanor closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. She had felt
that chil wind again, but her father’s words comforted her. If she
kept her faith and her pride, she could face anything.
Yet why should anything terrible happen? They had only a
relatively short journey ahead of them, and were to travel on
board a ship belonging to Sir Wiliam’s kinsman and friend.
Surely they would arrive safely within a few days?
Surely they would arrive safely within a few days?
They had been sailing for twenty-four hours when the storm
suddenly hit the ship. It came from nowhere, a great, swirling
wind that whipped what had seemed to be a calm blue sea into
huge waves. The merchant vessel was tossed about like a child’s
toy, lurching and roling in the grip of the atrocious weather.
‘You and your children must stay below,’ the captain had
warned Sir Wiliam. ‘If you come on deck, I cannot be
responsible for your safety.’
Eleanor had been forced to obey, though she would have
preferred to be up on deck. It was terrifying to feel the ship
shudder and buck, and she feared that they would al die.
She felt il and was sick constantly, managing only to whisper
a prayer between bouts of vomiting. Surely they would al
drown!
It was a terrible end to their voyage of hope, and Eleanor
touched the heavy silver cross and chain she wore around her
neck, together with her father’s precious manuscript, which she
was wearing beneath her gown for safe keeping.
‘Oh God, let us al live’ she prayed. In her terror she reached
out to whoever was listening. ‘Whether you be Our Lord or
Alah—let us live…’
Al night the storm raged around them, but suddenly just
<
br /> before dawn it died and the silence was even stranger than the
wind that had preceded it. The ship was not moving at al. It
wind that had preceded it. The ship was not moving at al. It
seemed that the god of the sea had worn itself out in its fury and
was resting.
Their captain told Sir Wiliam that they were becalmed and
could do nothing but drift until the wind returned.
‘How long before that happens?’ Sir Wiliam asked.
‘Perhaps hours…or days.’
There was nothing anyone could do except wait for a
benevolent wind. At least the ship had survived the wild night.
The sailors would spend their time clearing up the debris of a
broken mast; the passengers could do nothing but sleep and
wait.
Eleanor was woken by the sound of shouting from the deck
above. Immediately, she sensed that something was wrong and
struggled into her gown, which fastened at the front to make it
easy for traveling. Although she had a maid, the girl was in the
next cabin and stil terribly il from the sickness she had suffered
during the storm. Eleanor did not know her wel, and felt that it
would be better to manage alone for the moment.
She paused, then took a few seconds to don her ugly cap,
tucking al her hair beneath the veil at the back. She was already
wearing her father’s treasure, but her cross and chain were lying
on the chest beside her. She was about to snatch them up when
her brother came rushing into the cabin.
‘Forgive me,’ he cried, clearly frightened. ‘But Father says
you must come. We must al be together. He means to bargain
you must come. We must al be together. He means to bargain
with them…’
‘Bargain with whom?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I do not understand
you, Dickon. What is happening?’
‘Corsairs,’ he said, his cheeks pale. ‘They have a fast galey
and are bearing down on us hard. We cannot move, Eleanor—
which means they wil board us.’
‘May God have mercy!’
Eleanor knew what this meant. Every vessel feared an attack
by the fearsome pirates who roamed these waters—but their
ship was fast and powerful and would usualy be capable of
outrunning the pirates’ galey. Not without a wind! They were
helpless, caught in a trap!
Now Eleanor understood what her father meant about
bargaining with the Corsairs. Their only chance was that the