The Sheikh and the Servant

by Sonja Spencer

  “And what task is that, Master?” Noori asked tentatively.

  “Call me Karam,” the councilor replied, teeth flashing.

  Noori stared at him in disbelief. “Master?”

  “Karam,” Karam corrected. “I am not your master. And you are not a slave.”

  “The master said something as such last night, Master,” Noori said, missing Karam’s narrowed eyes. “But I put no stock in it.”

  Karam’s face darkened. “You doubt our lord?” Noori blanched and made to kneel again, but Karam caught him. “No, no,” Karam said, the tension leaving his voice. “Please, I apologize. Allow me to explain further.”

  Still shocked, Noori just peered at him.

  Karam smiled. “It is that simple, I assure you. You are no longer a slave. You are not subject to the whims of any man or woman save our lord, the sheikh. He is our honored leader and deserves that respect.”

  Noori could hear the plea in his voice. “It is true?”

  “Yes,” Karam said gently, “it is true.”

  Tears glittered in Noori’s eyes. “I can barely believe it,” he whispered.

  Karam patted his shoulder. “I understand. Your new responsibilities will help. And today, we are to find you a tent, clothing, food, and any other supplies you require. Then we must visit the jeweler and the stores. We will have you happily settled in no time.”

  A slight crease formed between Noori’s brows. “A tent of my own? Jeweler? What do you speak of?”

  Karam patted his arm soothingly. “I know it is a big change, going from being a slave in a palace to being a paid servant here, but I am told you are very intelligent. You will adapt. So yes, you will have your own tent, somewhere to keep your belongings. And you need the mark of our lord, since you are his servant, thus the jeweler.”

  “His mark?” Noori questioned, rubbing at his forearm. “What will that be?”

  “Your choice of a ring,” Karam tapped Noori’s ear, “or a bracelet.” The Arab held out his own arm, about which a lovely wrought-platinum bracelet was wound.

  Noori rubbed at his ear. “A ring? The amir never allowed permanent jewels. I think I would like to be marked in such a way.”

  Karam nodded. “They are quite attractive, in my opinion. The warriors of our lord’s inner council wear bracelets of beaten gold, as befitting their station. We who belong to the sheikh’s household wear platinum. Servants in the village wear copper. Now. Get dressed, and let’s go! We have much to accomplish!”

  Noori pulled his robes on quickly, shoving his feet into the sandals he had always worn. He soon faced Karam with anticipation in his eyes and excitement and hope growing in his breast. “I am ready… Karam.”

  The councilor looked him over. “I think we will also stop at the seamstresses’ tent.” With a laugh, he led the way out.

  #

  Pulling out a bag of dates, Karam offered some to Noori as they sat down in the cool interior of Noori’s new tent after some hours of shopping.

  Noori took a date, chewing on it thoughtfully as he thought of all they had accomplished. A large pile of purchases consumed most of the pallet another servant had set up while they were gone. He could hardly believe all such bounty belonged to him.

  Karam took a long drought from a waterskin and sighed happily. “Well, the worst is done. Now you can get settled,” he said, popping another date in his mouth.

  Nodding, Noori asked, “What will my chores be, Mas—Karam?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Karam chuckled. “Chores? Just what kind of servant do you think you are?”

  A confused frown crossed Noori’s face. “Do not all servants have assigned tasks?”

  “Well, yes, but I do not consider my work chores. But then, it is not women’s work, either.” Karam shrugged. “Our lord has seamstresses, workmen, and cooks. You will assist me with the bookkeeping. I am told you have a fine head for numbers?”

  “I trained with numbers before I was sold to the amir. My father hoped to use my mind to help him beat the chances of loss in his gambling,” Noori answered.

  Karam blinked. “Yes, well, I can certainly use the help. I am in charge of the village stores, as well as all of the sheikh’s trade agreements, the marketplace, and winter planning.” He fingered another date. “And much of my work is neglected as I follow the sheikh about, taking notes and correspondence.”

  “I will do the tallies for you as you do the outside research?” Noori asked, surprised at the task. He’d expected to be cleaning ovens or some similar task.

  Fingering his chin, Karam looked at him speculatively. “How many languages do you speak?”

  “I understand the basics of both desert and trade languages, as well as two languages of the north. And the amir made sure his slaves were well versed in all methods of communication.” Noori’s voice took on an ironic tone. “All methods.”

  Karam frowned, obviously not understanding.

  “I apologize for being crass, Karam, but we were trained in the art of tongues. How to speak them. How to use them.”

  Karam blinked, obviously surprised. “Oh. Oh! Well.” He cleared his throat. “I must say I’ve never been called to serve in such a manner. The sheikh does not own pleasure slaves….” His words trailed off as he studied Noori openly.

  “So he has informed me,” Noori murmured. His eyes studied the hem of Karam’s robe. “May I speak openly with you, Karam?”

  Karam nodded, offering Noori some more dates.

  Noori waved the dates away, continuing to avert his gaze. “Is it not ironic that the first man I wish to be with does not desire me in that way?”

  The other servant tilted his head, a slight frown on his face, but quickly understanding dawned, and he offered Noori a sympathetic look. “I… cannot advise you in this case, my new friend. I can tell you that the sheikh—he is the most honorable man I have ever known. It was most fortuitous that he decided to purchase you and free you from wretched slavery.”

  Nodding his head, Noori spoke again. “I am very fortunate indeed. The master spoke of repaying my purchase price to the tribe. I hope to repay that and much more.”

  Karam smiled. “Such is the way of things. You have been blessed, Noori, bringing you to our lord’s attention.” He still watched Noori, albeit with fond eyes. “Pay you no mind to women’s gossip. All will be well.”

  “Gossip?” Noori tilted his head, not fully understanding. “Of what do they speak?”

  Karam laughed. “The seamstresses saw you sleeping in the sheikh’s tent this morning.”

  Noori’s expression continued to be one of puzzlement. “What is the problem with that, Karam? Pleasure slaves always share their master’s beds.”

  Karam leaned forward, serious. “Noori, I tell you again, the sheikh does not keep pleasure slaves. He does not condone the practice of slavery anywhere in his realm. In fact, he also is known for not taking lovers from amongst the village women, although it is certainly his right.”

  Noori met Karam’s eyes. “And you think I should keep away from his bed?”

  Karam sat back again, studying him. He seemed about to speak, but held his tongue. Finally he sighed. “It is not my place to judge you, and it is certainly not my place to judge the sheikh,” he said, obviously ill at ease. “I would offer that our lord is often alone with his problems and all that responsibility. If he is finding some form of comfort in you, I would not bar him that.”

  “He is my protector,” Noori explained, picking at the weave of his robe. “I want to satisfy him. I want to make him happy. If that means keeping my distance from him, I will. He told me he would not order me to stay, but he did not order me to leave, either. I am at odds with what I think I should do and what I want to do.” The words flowed from his heart, to his own surprise. The sheikh’s kindness had helped it begin to heal.

  Karam blinked. “He told you that he would not order you to stay?”

  “In his tent,” Noori clarified.

  “I do not understand
why he would say such a thing. Perhaps he does not want you to feel compelled to warm his bed? I have never known our lord to take someone unwilling,” Karam murmured.

  “Mayhap he does not desire me in that way and would prefer I stay here.” Noori gestured at the tent. “My own tent.”

  Karam shook his head. “No, I am certain that he would tell you so in no uncertain terms. Instead, he said he would not order you to stay. Very interesting.” Karam popped another date in his mouth. “Yes, he would tell you to leave, were that his wish. But it would not be his way to ask you to stay, either. He is our leader; it is below him.”

  Noori lowered his head once more. “I asked him if I could return to his tent this night.”

  Raising a curious eyebrow, Karam leaned forward. “And?”

  “He remained silent,” the slave answered honestly. He glanced up through his lashes as he added, “But before leaving the tent, he nodded.”

  Karam broke into a smirk. “Methinks our lord has grown fond of a particular servant.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  A nervous smile spread across Noori’s lips. “Do not tease me so, Karam. I am sure that he only appreciates the small services I can offer him.”

  “You do not understand, friend Noori. The sheikh—he accepts comforts from no one. It has been as such since the death of his second wife. The only time I have known him to take anyone to his bed the four years past was when in another sheikh’s domain, when he would lose face to turn away such hospitality,” Karam tried to explain. “He has let no one that close, not even myself, Numair, or Rami. In truth, we have despaired of him finding solace of any kind.”

  Noori’s eyes met Karam’s with more than a little shock reflecting in the solemn gaze. “But why choose me? Why now?”

  Karam shrugged, leaning back against the pillow. “You will have to ask him.”

  Chapter 5

  Late, long after the communal dinner was over and the children were sent to bed, some time even after the warriors retired, the sheikh stalked back toward his tent. He knew he had stayed away longer than needed, but he had feared returning to an empty tent—which just made him angry, so he had ridden his stallion to the storage caves and retrieved some fruit which now filled the bag on his shoulder. Now, he was overtired. With a sigh, he nodded to Rami, on guard outside of his tent, and he stooped through the flap.

  Noori was kneeling in his spot just inside the tent flap. Straightening once inside, the tall man stopped abruptly, almost walking right into him. Blinking, he laid a hand on the servant’s shoulder.

  At the sheikh’s touch, Noori lifted his eyes. “How may I serve you, Master?”

  The sheikh looked down at Noori for some time, unable to reconcile the pounding in his chest with the mix of relief and terror he felt upon seeing the servant here. Slowly, he slid the bag of fruit off his shoulder and held it out.

  Noori took the bag willingly, rising to his feet and managing to maintain his balance. He took the fruit to a bowl and rinsed it with water. “Would you like fruit, Master?”

  “Yes,” the sheikh rasped quietly, slowly unwrapping his head scarves, watching Noori work. The continued address of “Master” was becoming far too intimate for his comfort. He had not noticed it, not truly, until today he had thought long and hard on Noori’s presence in his life.

  Noori sliced the fruit handily, arranging it on a platter and bringing it along with a skin of water to the sheikh’s table. He then moved to help the sheikh undress. “Do you have need of a bath tonight, Master?”

  Allowing Noori to remove his outer layers of clothing, the sheikh shook his head while reaching for a piece of fruit, still cool from its storage place in a cave. He bit it neatly in half, catching the dribble of juice with his tongue, and looked up to see Noori watching him. The sheikh ate the other piece of fruit, snagging another and gesturing for Noori to help himself. Then he turned to stretch and started patting his pockets. He would need to read, to find something to calm his pulse, his insane excitement that Noori had chosen of his own free will to stay.

  Now distracted by looking for his spectacles, the sheikh walked across the tent to the low table he used as a desk, bending over to search among the papers. With no luck, he harrumphed in annoyance and cast his gaze toward his satchel.

  “Your spectacles are on the table near your pallet, sire,” Noori murmured in a low voice. “I cleaned them for you. I hope that was pleasing.”

  The sheikh looked over to the pallet, seeing the glasses right away. He walked slowly over to pick them up, holding up the lenses to the light, checking the glass, and then he folded them back up. “I am tired,” he said quietly.

  “Do you wish me to read to you, Master?” Noori offered, stepping closer. “Or I can offer a massage if it be your will.”

  The sheikh started pulling off his gloves, and he nodded to the leather-bound volume on the table where he had found his spectacles. He removed his boots and laid his robe aside, crawling onto the pallet nude and settling on his side, facing Noori, eyes shuttered as he listened to his warm voice. He found it calming.

  The sheikh knew he should have talked with Karam this night to make sure village gossip did not focus on Noori. He resolved to do so tomorrow. It would not do for the odd attraction in his gut and heart to harm Noori’s future with the tribe.

  After the servant had paused for some time, the sheikh opened his eyes a bit, blinking. The candlelight caught the shine of metal, and he raised a long arm, reaching out to brush his fingers ever so lightly over the platinum ear cuff that Noori now wore. His fingers lingered a moment, and then he lowered his hand to the book and closed it.

  Once Noori crawled into place, the sheikh sighed deeply, eyes already closed as he dropped off to sleep, leaning close to Noori’s body, basking in the warmth.

  “Need you anything else, Master?” Noori whispered.

  A sigh escaped the sheikh. He would have to deal with this, and now. “Do not address me as Master,” he murmured, his voice coming out more sleepily than he had expected.

  Noori was silent, and the sheikh was on the cusp of sleep when he heard:

  “Yes, my lord.”

  #

  Rami whistled tunelessly as he stood at his post outside the sheikh’s tent. It was early, so the sun was not yet high, and the heat was not bad at all today. When Karam approached, he offered the councilor a small smile. “Our lord is already on his rounds, Karam; you will have to find him elsewhere.”

  Karam skidded to a stop in front of the tent. “Good day, Rami. I am actually here to fetch Noori. We’re touring the stores today.”

  The warrior blinked. “I have been here since first watch started. Noori has not entered.”

  Karam just smiled and brushed past into the tent.

  Noori looked up from where he oiled and polished the sheikh’s gloves and belts. A smile spread across his face as he saw his new friend. “Many blessings, Karam. The sheikh is away.” He placed the polishing cloth on the table, rising from his place near the pallet he had shared with his lord the night before.

  The councilor smiled and half-bowed in greeting. “Blessed morning to you, Noori. You look quite content this morn.”

  “He did not order me to leave,” the slave offered by way of explanation. He flashed another smile as he fit the gloves over a set of wooden forms made to hold their shape. Walking over to Karam, he added, “And he bid me to no longer call him ‘Master’.”

  Karam smiled widely and clapped Noori on the shoulder, leaning close to murmur, “I am surprised he tolerated it as long as he did.”

  Noori smiled shyly. “I slept well afterward,” he admitted.

  “As did our lord. He is in a fine mood today,” Karam said.

  “You have spoken to him already?” Noori looked mildly surprised. “He is reticent around me at times. I do not know how to speak with him.”

  “Our lord is not one for many words, I have learned. You must learn to watch his actions and demeanor, as well,” Karam shared. “His
humor is dry and sharp this morn, and today there is a spring in his step.”

  Noori offered Karam a small smile. “As you train me, Karam, could you assist me with learning to read him?”

  Karam grinned and clapped his shoulder again. “Come; I want to show you the store houses. The sheikh is visiting the ill and the widowed today, so you will have some time.”

  Noori nodded, wiping his hands on his robe as he stepped forward. “Teach me my tasks, Karam. Show me my new life.”

  Arm in arm, Karam walked out with his new friend. He paused to offer Rami a short bow. “A blessed day be yours, Rami,” he said, eyes twinkling.

  Rami stared at Noori for a long moment and then shook himself to answer Karam’s words. “And to you, Karam… and Noori,” he added, looking at the servant with newfound respect.

  Noori nodded to the guard, offering a smile as a token of friendship. “Many blessings,” he greeted in the man’s own language.

  He then followed Karam to the stores, where the other man began to show him where everything was located. Karam watched him turn in a circle in the cavern of the large cave, staring wonderingly at the many compartments of different goods. “Our lord is a powerful sheikh, is he not?” he asked.

  Karam raised a shoulder. “Power is relative in the desert, Noori. But yes, our lord wields much influence, and many people look to him for leadership. It has been such since his father’s brother stepped down to pursue a religious vocation. Our lord’s father led our people for many years before his death.”

  “He is a just and kind lord, yes?” Noori asked, needing to believe that only someone who was good-hearted and generous would purchase him from his previous torment.

  Karam smiled reassuringly. “The sheikh is renowned across the desert lands for his integrity and compassion. When his father led the tribe, our lord was the best of his warriors and indeed distinguished himself in battle. But his mother, bless her, influenced him equally toward mercy.”

  A fanciful smile spread across Noori’s face. “Then might it be possible that he could come to love me?” His eyes reflected hope in the dim light of the cavern.