Dangerous Weakness

by Warfield, Caroline

  He had little time to worry about it. Two guards pulled them from their cell without warning. They pushed Richard up against a wall until his head slammed back and trussed his hands. He watched with impotent rage when they yanked Lily to her feet and did the same to her. One guard tied a rope around Lily’s bonds and pulled her along behind. Richard’s guard did the same, pulling the two of them up to the deck where Hamidou stood.

  “Welcome to Tarcin, English. Your new home.”

  Richard blinked in the relentless sun. The frigate lay at anchor next to a rocky cove. Richard saw no sign of habitation. Do they plan to maroon us?

  They held Lily ten feet from Richard, too far for whispered conversation, when the guard holding her rope asked a question Richard couldn’t understand. Hamidou shrugged as if the question mattered little. Richard tried to catch Lily’s eye, to see if she understood what had been said, but she stared at the brown and barren island.

  Richard followed her gaze. If they maroon us here, is there water? He scanned the tops of a looming cliff and saw signs of vegetation. Where there is vegetation, there is water. Lily will need it—and food and shade. His heart began to pound in his chest at the thought of Lily nearing her time with no one to help. No one but my worthless self, utterly useless in that situation.

  The guards chatted between themselves, as cheerfully as two men might at ease at their club in St. James’s Street. Our lives mean nothing to these men; human beings are the commodities of their business. Pure helpless rage began to push out rational thought until a shout intruded on the conversation. Richard looked up to see a boy waving from the top of the cliff. The guards shouted back, grinning from ear to ear and pointing to Richard and Lily.

  Not uninhabited then. His eyes had adjusted to the light. He noticed belatedly a handful of small boats tied at the far end of the cove. Fishing village?

  Before Richard could process this new information, he heard a scuffle from below and turned to see Scarface emerge from the hatch. He gave a vicious yank on a rope, and Volkov emerged from below decks.

  If Lily’s gasp concerned Richard, the look on her face horrified him. She gaped at Volkov; sheer terror warred with compassion. Richard tried to step between Lily and the sight of her erstwhile enemy but was held back. They’ve forced her to see what they are capable of.

  Volkov limped across the deck, stumbling periodically when Scarface yanked him forward. He still wore the crude loincloth they had dressed him in. His battered face looked worse, swollen and purple in places. One eye was swollen shut, cuts from beatings seeped on both cheeks, and his lips were cracked and dry where they weren’t split. Did they give him water? Bruises covered his arms, legs, and chest. Rat bites covered his legs. A crusted red line circled his neck from ear to ear. Remnant of a half-hearted threat to cut his throat?

  Volkov’s arrival must have satisfied Hamidou. He barked an order, and two crewmembers descended the gangplank. Richard’s keeper tugged his rope and led him down also. He turned to see Lily being led forward. When she reached the gangplank, her captor put a hand under her elbow to steady her before he led her slowly down. Richard peered closely at the man’s face, memorizing the face of the one who showed one small gesture of kindness.

  Volkov didn’t fare as well. Scarface pulled him sharply forward. Richard suspected he might have yanked him around more but didn’t want to lose him over the side of the gangplank.

  A crewmember above gave Hamidou a cocky salute, and the captain himself disembarked with the arrogant stride of any admiral leaving his ship. Richard scanned the deck and rigging but saw only one crewmember left behind to stand watch. They must be damned confident about this anchorage, he thought.

  By now the boy had disappeared from the cliff top to the left, but Richard could see that a path led up a gentler rise to the right. A group of people gathered there.

  The crew milled around at the foot of the gangplank. In the confusion, Richard inched closer to Lily.

  “Steady on, Lily. Hamidou’s promised us, ‘we must care for you,’” he reminded her.

  “‘Merchandise,’” she countered through clenched teeth. “He said they must care for their merchandise.” She looked at Volkov and quickly away, as if she might be sick.

  Before Richard could counter her obvious fear, their captors pulled them forward to the sound of cheering above. Hamidou strode through the center of his crew to lead them up the rise. When he reached the top, he made a pronouncement.

  “What did he say?” Richard asked. Lily merely shook her head.

  They moved briskly. He watched Lily closely for signs of distress. Her breathing became hard, but she looked able to keep up. The crowd on the rise parted when they reached the top. A cluster of mud brick houses, perhaps twenty or more, lay scattered in a hollow space only slightly lower than the spot they stood on. Women, children, and old men crowded in front of the houses; they cheered at Richard and Lily when they came into view.

  Their keepers didn’t pause to enjoy the view. They slowed their pace and led them down into town. Barking dogs and shouting children followed alongside them. A woman with a tambourine led the line of march. We’re some damned holiday parade, a freak show!

  They promenaded a convoluted route around houses and the few trees. Hamidou is stretching his freak show as far as he can, Richard thought. They stopped in front of what appeared to be the largest house. An open space, more empty lot than plaza, enabled many of their followers to crowd around to view the spectacle.

  Richard moved sideways so that his arm touched Lily’s shoulder. When she leaned closer, the movement touched him deeply. He wanted to comfort but couldn’t find words.

  Scarface brushed past them dragging Volkov, who collapsed at Hamidou’s feet. Hamidou ignored him. Scarface took his place at Hamidou’s right, chin high, arrogant scowl in place. An old man came forward, smiling, to accept Hamidou’s embrace.

  The men exchanged words, their tone obviously intended for the gathered crowd to hear. He looked down at Lily, but she shook her head. She didn’t understand them either. Richard heard one word he had heard before, back during their capture, kafir. He had no idea what it meant.

  Hamidou barked an order. For the first time, his eyes met Richard’s. He repeated his words from the ship. “Welcome to Tarcin, English. These are your hosts.”

  Their captors pulled them to their right past the large house. As they left the gathering, Richard heard laughter and cheering. He looked back to see Scarface and another man lead Volkov the other direction toward a clump of trees.

  They arrived at a hovel a bit larger than their cell on the ship. The man with kind eyes, the one who helped Lily descend the ship, untied their bindings and gestured for them to enter. A cloth fell shut behind them to cover the door. Afternoon sun filtered through two small windows. Their prison boasted a platform covered with thin blankets and little else. Lily sank down on it and curled into a ball.

  Richard clamped back the impotent rage toward the men who did this to her. Emotion would not serve. He had to think.

  “Lily, can we talk?”

  “About what?” she murmured without moving.

  “What you saw, what you heard.”

  “Volkov. I saw Volkov.”

  He sank down beside her. The platform kept them from the dirt floor but was only marginally softer. He moved to kneel in the dirt so that he could put his face close to hers, reached up a hand, and caressed her cheek.

  “I’m sorry they made you see that.”

  She did not respond.

  “Please talk to me, Lily. I need your help.”

  She blinked twice and raised her head. “My help?”

  “Remember our conversation about information. I need to know what you saw and heard.”

  She pushed herself up, her face a mask of concentration.

 
Better, Lily. “Help” must be the magic word.

  “I saw a cove with three small boats. Only one looked like it had recent use.”

  He hadn’t noticed that detail. We really do need to work together. “What else? Did you understand any words?”

  “Not much. They greeted Hamidou’s pronouncement at the dock with applause. I’m not sure, but he may have told them he brought them gifts.”

  Richard bit his lower lip. “They’re poor enough here. Any gift would be cause for celebration.”

  “I think we’re the gift,” she said wearily.

  He couldn’t deny that. Gifts to use? Gifts to sell? Gifts for ransom?

  “What is kafir? Do you know it? I heard that word on the ship and today in the square.”

  “Kafir is the same in Turkish and Arabic, perhaps Berber. It means infidel.”

  “Like yazychnik, what they called Volkov?”

  “The same. Unbeliever.”

  Richard knew the meaning of infidel. He also knew from reports from both English and American captains and diplomats that the Barbary corsairs had no scruples about the treatment of infidels, as if they believed them less than human.

  Lily held his gaze for a long time. How much does she know about the treatment of infidels? If she didn’t before, the sight of Volkov must have enlightened her.

  He tried to pull her into his arms; she stiffened.

  “I need to sleep,” she said.

  She lay down and curled away from him, showing only her back. He suspected she only pretended to sleep.

  Richard covered her with one of the blankets, rose, and went to pull the cloth at the door aside. He found an armed guard, one he hadn’t seen before. The man glowered at him, and he dropped the door covering.

  He sank onto the bed platform, his back to the wall, his head on his knees. We are well and truly trapped here. When will Hamidou make his move? I’m helpless to do anything but pray. Pray and plan.

  A long and sleepless night later Lily clung to the windowsill of their hovel and breathed deeply. She had been allowed out once the night before and once this morning to relieve herself. She tried to be grateful. After days locked in a windowless closet on a churning deck, fresh air and firm ground almost compensated for discomfort. It was more than they had before.

  A group of children laughed while they tossed about a ball made of rag in a narrow dusty street outside the window. Lily could only think about the baby she carried. Hamidou threatened a horrific fate, and others with their ever-present weapons spoke of imminent doom. The fear and despondency that washed over her in waves for three days swamped her again. Will you ever be able to play freely, dear one? She clutched her belly.

  Richard’s voice called to her from across the room. “At least they kept us together,” he said.

  “Thanks to your lies, husband,” she said. She didn’t turn around to look at him.

  “I hoped it would help,” he persisted.

  “So you said,” she murmured. He meant it Lily. Stop being so horrid to him. Tell him the truth; your own behavior deserves condemnation. She forced herself to face him. “None of this is your fault,” she said. “If I had stayed in the Seraglio, the baby would be safe.”

  She found him glaring at her.

  “If you had stayed in London like you were told, you would be safe,” he said through stiff lips. He stood grim-faced, arms folded, leaning against the wall.

  Lily bristled, her own regrets forgotten. “Yes, your orders were clear, my lord. If your protection is so effective, where was my father? How did Volkov get past you?”

  “It works better when my charges do as they are told,” he spat back.

  Arrogant, insufferable man. Their brief period of comradery died in the face of misery. Lily clenched her jaw to hold back a retort. Bickering did nothing to alleviate their situation.

  He glared back for a moment before dropping his eyes as if he had had the same thought. “Why did you leave the Seraglio where you felt safe? What were you thinking?” he asked.

  She sighed. How long ago was that? It seems like months.

  “After you left, I considered what you offered.” Considered? I cried all night. “Whatever qualms I have about the life you offered, I felt compelled to admit you were right.”

  His grin irritated her, but Lily had to admit he was right. “Our child deserves to know her father,” she went on. “You didn’t plan to put me away. You offered marriage. Only a fool—” She held up a hand to stop him when he looked like he would interrupt. “Yes, I know I was acting foolishly. Who would turn down your offer of security for her child?”

  She looked into watchful blue eyes and continued. “I was on my way to tell you that I had changed my mind, that I would marry you.” She looked away at the intensity of his response.

  “Now”—she shrugged—“who knows what will happen.”

  She turned back to the window, swallowing her fears and tears. Richard came up behind her and slid his arms around her middle. He kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

  She couldn’t resist the warmth that engulfed her. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

  “I claimed you as my wife to Rais Hamidou,” he murmured against her skin.

  “Lies,” she sighed, breathing in the male scent of him. His breath on her skin heated her whole body.

  “But you didn’t deny it, tantamount to agreement.”

  She snapped upright, but he held her fast. “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “In some parts of the world, a declaration of that sort constitutes marriage,” he told her. “We’ll want to formalize it when we can, but, Lily, make no mistake. You are my wife. Nothing that comes next will change that.”

  He turned her in his arms and claimed her with a fierce searing kiss, a kiss of possession. The last of her resistance crumbled. She matched his passion in a response that left no doubt. However much she might regret it later, she belonged to him . . . heart, body, and soul.

  The little burden between them brought them back to reality with a sudden flurry of movement. Richard pulled away only far enough to look down; he kept his arms around her. With a sad smile, he set his forehead against hers.

  “I will get us out of this, Lily.”

  Or die trying. He didn’t say the words, but Lily heard them in her heart all the same.

  “Hamidou hasn’t sent for ransom,” Lily told him.

  “Not yet. He will. Money matters. In the meantime, we’re safe enough here.”

  Pray God that’s true. He can’t possibly know for certain. She didn’t point that out to him.

  “I hope they plan to feed us, though,” he said when he released her. He stretched shoulders she knew ached him. “The sun has been up for over an hour.”

  “They sent grains last night.” She shrugged. “It could be worse.”

  The ragged door to their prison swung open. A young woman stood, as if on command, holding a bowl of barley cakes and dates. The scar-faced guard loomed behind her. At the sight of the man who had held a dagger to her throat in Constantinople, Lily froze.

  Hamidou may negotiate reasonably, but does he control Scarface?

  Chapter 31

  The girl, who had given Richard only a nervous glance, spoke a few words to Lily. Lily accepted the food and spoke back. Thanking them? How does she do that? Lily picks up languages as if she absorbs them through her skin.

  Lily crossed the room to offer him food with her head inclined.

  “What?”

  “Just take it,” she whispered with her head bowed. “They expect you to eat first.”

  He took a little. “How often will they bring it? You come first.” He took a bite.

  “How should I know? I suspect twice a day. Just eat,” Lily sai
d, smiling back at the girl who seemed to examine Lily closely.

  Lily withdrew from Richard, and the two women continued to study each other. Lily still wore the silken brocade robes of the Seraglio. Her head covering had disappeared. The girl clucked in what Richard thought was disapproval.

  Unlike upper class women in Constantinople, none of the women Richard had seen in this village covered their faces. A striped scarf with broad bands of red, yellow, and black covered this girl’s forehead and wound up into a sort of turban around her head. Black hair escaped the scarf down the sides of her face on either side of her chin.

  I imagine that arrangement makes hard work easier to accomplish, he thought. She looks harmless enough, but I wouldn’t trust her. When the girl reached out a hand to touch Lily, he set aside the bowl and took an involuntary step forward. Scarface responded with a step inside, his face thunderous. Richard stepped back. Is he more worried about the girl’s safety or about keeping us in our places?

  The two men eyed each other warily while the Berber girl fingered Lily’s silken shawls avidly. Her own dress had been woven with rough fiber in bright colors. A loose dress covered her from chin to sandal-clad feet. The same fabric made a sash. A fish-bone design had been tattooed from lip to chin to neck; it disappeared down her dress.

  Lily reciprocated the girl’s interest. She reached a hand to feel the sash.

  “Soft. Softer than I expected,” she said. The girl looked puzzled at her English words. Lily tried Turkish. The girl responded in a flurry of speech.