Dangerous Weakness

by Warfield, Caroline

  “What does she say?” Richard asked. He once more envied Lily’s command of languages.

  “I can’t make it all out. Her Turkish is primitive, and some of it was in Berber. She disapproves of my uncovered head.”

  The girl pinned Richard with a look and spoke again.

  “She congratulates me on baby I think,” Lily said. “She asked if I couldn’t find a better man. This one let me fall into the hands of pirates.”

  “She didn’t say that.”

  Lily raised her eyebrow. “I believe that’s what she meant.”

  A growl from the guard followed more rapid speech in mix of Turkish and Arabic.

  “He grows impatient. You are to eat and go with him,” Lily translated.

  “Good. Perhaps we can make progress.”

  “The last thing she said is odd.”

  “How so?”

  “She said, ‘Don’t worry, lady. The Rais is kind and good. You will have help with your baby.’”

  Kind and good? Richard looked at the fierce, scarred face at the door. Beg leave to doubt it.

  Like most of the houses on the God-forsaken island the one in which Hamidou held court had been constructed of mud and brick. Slightly larger than the others, it had a floor of hardened clay that felt cool to Richard’s bare feet. A dozen or so men sat on cushioned benches built into the hardened mud walls on three sides, their eyes curious and assessing.

  The Rais himself sat at a table like the one in the captain’s quarters onboard ship. Unlike the one in the captain’s quarters, the table had been oiled and polished. It, like the room, showed every sign of tending. Richard found the terracotta platters adorning the wall to be decorative, if primitive, and the colors of the cushions attractive in the dim confines. Someone cared for this place.

  “Ah, the English lord. Come, sit, have tea,” Hamidou greeted him in English.

  I’ll tell you where to put your tea, Richard thought before he swallowed the anger that boiled in his guts. Lily needed him clear-headed. It never does to lose one’s temper too early in a negotiation.

  “My cousins wish to see this powerful man in our midst,” Hamidou said. He swept a look at Richard from bare feet, across ragged robe, to filthy hair. His eyes gleamed. He didn’t need to understand words to understand the amusement of the dozen or so men sitting on benches built into the walls on all sides.

  Richard, still standing, looked around the room slowly with a face he prayed looked calmer than he felt. “Your home looks comfortable,” he said.

  Hamidou’s mouth twitched. “This is the house of my uncle.” He nodded to an older man in baggy homespun who grinned back through a gap in his teeth. “My own in Algiers is somewhat more”—he hesitated as if seeking the right word—“spacious.”

  Two men on the surrounding benches laughed. Either only two of them know English or only two have been to Hamidou’s “spacious” house. One of them said something Richard couldn’t translate that provoked more general laughter. One man clapped the old man he assumed was the uncle on the shoulder. The old man shrugged ruefully.

  I need Lily, he thought. But I don’t want her anywhere near these men. If only she could give me her command of languages.

  “Sit, English,” Hamidou commanded.

  Richard sat and accepted tea, green like none served in any good English household and served in a glass. He raised the glass and sniffed. The aroma of mint wafted up from the drink.

  “We will not poison you, English,” Hamidou said. “Drink.”

  He did. He sipped it slowly to give himself time to study the room. He recognized a few of the men from the ship. Others, less formidable in appearance, less festooned with weapons appeared to be locals. Less festooned, but not unarmed, he noticed while he waited for Hamidou to make the first move. He didn’t have long to wait.

  “Shall we do business, Marquess? What is it you can offer me that I don’t already have?”

  Odd question. Aside from money what might he want?

  “Money.”

  Hamidou shrugged. “We ask for ransom, ships come. My people die.” He leaned forward. “Hostages die. Slavery is better.”

  “That will not happen.”

  “You can guarantee this?”

  “Yes.” Richard took a sip of tea to cover his uncertainty. Captains will do as I say. If they see me. If they recognize whom they see. “I can guarantee your safety.”

  “Why should you do that?”

  “To get freedom for my family.” The word felt strange but right. I have a family. A surge of protective determination hardened his resolve.

  “I too have family,” Hamidou said. “Many depend on me. Volkov promised much.”

  “How much?”

  The sum staggered. It would purchase one of the grand ducal palaces in London with enough left over to furnish the place.

  “I doubt it,” Richard said.

  “You doubt my word?”

  Two men, the ones he thought understood English, moved, one with his hand on his sword. Richard refused to flinch.

  Never show weakness in negotiations. This pirate won’t respect weakness. “Volkov couldn’t get his hands on anything close to that,” he said.

  “Volkov is a lying pig. He promised what he cannot do.” Hamidou glared back. Words, translated and passed on, caused a billow of excitement among the “cousins.”

  “He is indeed a pig,” Richard agreed. “Perhaps you misunderstood him.” He watched Hamidou under lowered lashes.

  For a long dangerous moment, Hamidou’s hostile eyes held his before the corsair’s eyes crinkled up in the corners and took on an amused cast.

  “The man did garble his Turkish,” Hamidou acknowledged. “But our expenses were high,” he continued briskly. He mentioned a sum two-thirds as high as before. Richard watched translators pass that on. The men on the benches looked solemn.

  “I will give you half that.” Richard racked his brain, trying to dredge up every piece of information he had ever read about the slave trade. He had to offer more than he, Lily, and the baby would be worth at auction.

  “Three fourths,” Hamidou countered.

  The pirate likes to haggle. Relief flooded him. He stood on familiar ground now. He had brought Czar Alexander to agreement at the Congress of Vienna. He could manage Rais Hamidou.

  Richard’s next offer increased only slightly; Hamidou came down by a similar amount. The haggling went on for several long moments, with Richard never moving further than half way to his goal. Hamidou proved equally skilled, a fact that might have amused Richard if the stakes weren’t Lily’s life and freedom.

  “So we are agreed?” Hamidou mentioned an amount close to Richard’s goal.

  “Yes.” Let’s end this farce.

  Hamidou gave him a hard look. “You give me your word there will be no harm to this island, these people, no revenge, no violence?”

  “You would believe my word?”

  “I don’t need to. I hold your wife.”

  “Do you give me yours that we will come to no harm?”

  Hamidou nodded sharply. Richard glanced at Scarface; he held no lever to ensure Hamidou’s promise, but he had to accept it.

  Richard leaned forward and growled in a voice for Hamidou’s ears only. “If any harm comes to my wife or baby, I will move heaven and earth to destroy you.”

  Hamidou’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t reply. He gestured for writing materials.

  Richard wrote out a formal report to Castlereagh seeking ransom and copied it for his father. The government would try to short him; he requested just enough more to ensure that correct amount came. He raised his hand and looked at Hamidou.

  “My ring.”

  “Your ring?”

  “You took my g
randfather’s ring. I need it to verify this request, to assure them I am making it myself.”

  A sharp command sent a young man scrambling. Richard watched him climb a ladder to the upper story. He reached for another piece of paper and began to write.

  Will,

  I have no time for explanations. Lily and I are in bad straits, being held on an island near Algiers. The Barbary corsair demands the ransom at the foot of this message. Castlereagh and Sudbury have been notified. See to it.

  Richard raised his pen. “See to it?” Will isn’t some flunky, you damned fool. Richard felt himself sink into an abyss; hope ebbed. He thought of the heavy-handed ways he treated his friends, all of them: Jamie, desperate for money; Andrew, wounded and dying in France; Will, fixated on his fields and family. He had forced his solutions on them, and they found their own way, often in spite of him. Will ought to ignore me, he thought. How does one beg for help? He never had to do it before. He pushed on.

  Lily is almost eight months gone with our child. I trust your discretion in that matter. You must see the desperation of our situation. I know you, Jamie, and Andrew will do whatever is humanly possible. I count on it. I beg you not to fail.

  Richard

  He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed he wasn’t wrong. A noise brought him back to the man across the table. Hamidou showed Richard the signet ring but pulled it back and sealed the messages himself. Richard choked back the urge to snatch it from him.

  “Uncle admires this ring,” Hamidou told him, “but perhaps if the money comes, and if you do as I say, you may have it back. Perhaps. We will send by fastest ship to Malta.”

  “Gibraltar. They will get it to London faster,” Richard said.

  While he scrawled the addresses on each missive, Hamidou turned to his men in hurried conversation. The discussion went on at some length, but the men appeared to reach agreement.

  “Gibraltar is more difficult to approach, but we will do it. Speed is good,” Hamidou said. He handed the messages to three men who left immediately.

  Richard rose to follow them, anxious to get to Lily. Hamidou’s hand pulled him back.

  “English lord,” Hamidou said, “You will come to no harm at my hand.”

  “What of your men?” Richard looked directly at Scarface when he said it.

  “They do as I say.”

  Richard’s shoulders and back sagged with relief until he noticed the hard black look in Hamidou’s eyes.

  “You will see no harm if the ransom comes.” Hamidou held his eyes, and Richard felt his heart pound in his throat.

  “My cousins have needs,” the pirate said. “If the ransom does not come in sixty days, we will sell you.”

  Chapter 32

  Berber women chattered like women anywhere, sharing hot sweet tea and nibbling figs and dates. The latter, Lily surmised were a treat, having come from off-island with Rais Hamidou.

  When Richard had been led away, two other women had crowded into the little hut, bringing treats. Their generosity touched Lily. The eyes of all three were avid with curiosity. Lily’s grasp of the language had not progressed enough to understand all of the rapid talk, but they appeared to bear her little ill will. At least not immediately.

  If the fabric of her gown and shawls interested them, her red hair fascinated. All four touched and smoothed both hair and gown while Lily forced herself to be still.

  Generosity doesn’t mean they wouldn’t sell me to the slavers in a heartbeat. If Richard fails— She couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. As if disturbed by her mother’s emotions, the baby began to kick.

  The women smiled at that and burst into chatter again. One word dominated talk that followed. Baby, Lily suspected. With simple words in Berber, a smattering of Turkish and gestures, the women made it clear they wanted to know how far along she was. She held up seven fingers and said “month” in Turkish, then “moon,” in case they didn’t understand.

  The oldest one clucked and shook her head. She said something to the woman who brought food, the youngest of them, who seemed to have the best command of Turkish.

  “It will be soon, then,” the young woman said.

  Tears sprung to Lily’s eyes. Soon. Even if Richard’s negotiations went well, she doubted rescue would come soon. Regret flooded into her. She regretted the foolish notion to leave the Seraglio. She regretted leaving England. She regretted resisting Richard’s proposal in the first place. I’ve put you in danger, little one. I am sorry.

  The older woman reached out and took Lily’s hand. She spoke in soothing tones.

  “She says you must miss your sisters and aunts,” the younger woman said, and Lily realized with a pang she had none. She thought of Georgiana Mallet and her friend the Countess of Chadbourn. I should have gone to them. More regret.

  The young woman didn’t notice her deepening sadness. “Not to worry, English lady, we will help. This woman”—she indicated the older woman patting Lily’s hand—“my grandmother, has helped with many babies. Many.”

  A midwife? Lily looked at her more closely.

  Before Lily could reply, another woman barged in. Of indeterminate age and fierce expression, she wore a red headdress with a chain of coins looped across it as a sign of wealth. She must have held some position of importance because the others quickly moved aside, deferring to her. She barked some harsh words, only one of which Lily understood—infidel again. Clearly, she did not approve of kindness to a captive.

  The old woman glowered at the intruder and then smiled sadly at Lily. Lily found herself smiling back. She took Lily’s smile for permission and put both hands on Lily’s belly. She began to probe. She had Lily stand and pull her gown taut so she could see how the baby lay. She helped Lily onto her back on the bed platform and probed again. Finally satisfied, the old grandmother sat back on her heels and nodded cheerfully.

  The woman in the red headdress snarled at the grandmother. The grandmother answered in a gentler tone. The only word Lily recognized was the word for baby.

  The youngest woman glanced nervously at the angry woman, leaned closer to Lily, and whispered, “Grandmother says all is well, but baby is not ready yet. Soon.”

  “What did the other one say?” Lily asked. The girl merely shook her head.

  The coins on the woman’s red headdress jangled when she turned and left as abruptly as she came, apparently satisfied with what she came to find out. The other women visibly relaxed.

  Soon. At least it isn’t early. She found this strange grandmother’s attention as reassuring as the woman in red had been unnerving. She untied one of the silk shawls from around her shoulder and handed it to the older woman.

  The grandmother beamed. She nodded repeatedly. Her thanks needed no translation.

  Thank God for the kindness of these women. I’m going to need them.

  A ripple of excitement among the women, a subtle shift in the emotional pool around her, alerted Lily to Richard’s return. She longed to turn and demand a report on his discussion with Rais Hamidou, but her new young friend held her still.

  She saw the girl glance briefly toward the door, but the girl’s hands held her still while she tugged on the headdress she had arranged on Lily’s head. She gave the two curls on either side of Lily’s face a swift pat and smiled at her handiwork.

  “Your man has returned, Lady,” she whispered in Lily’s ear. Lily smiled back. “I had better make myself agreeable, no?” The girl translated to the older women who cackled knowingly. They rose with no further delay and fluttered to the door with sly smiles and Lily’s silk shawls.

  Lily stood to face Richard. His fierce expression made her look away and make a show of smoothing the bright Berber sash she had gotten in exchange for her finery.

  “If they stole from you, I—”

  “No one
stole from me. Communicating with those women helps our cause. The great Marquess of Glenaire does not need to fix my part in it. What happened with Hamidou?”

  “You gave them your shawls? Why would you do that?

  “Under the circumstances, all that silk felt perfectly useless. It snagged every time I moved. Besides, they admired it.”

  Richard’s brows rose. The poor man looks confused, and that irritates him.

  “I got this practical sash in exchange. See how it holds up my skirts from the dust.” She swirled to show him.

  “I can see your ankles,” he complained.

  “You don’t like my ankles?” She could see from his face that he liked the sight very much.

  “I don’t like every man in this village ogling your ankles.”

  “Silly. I’m too big to attract any man’s eyes.”

  The look he gave her caused heat to run from between her breasts and up her neck to her cheeks. “I beg to differ,” he rasped.

  Lily put her hands on her face to cool her cheeks. “Besides, I’m locked in here.”

  “No longer. We’re to have the run of the island.”

  “What on earth has changed? What happened with Rais Hamidou? Did you convince him to let us go?”

  “No. I can’t work wonders, Lily.” His bleak expression struck her in the heart. “I can only negotiate. At least I know how to do that much.” He avoided her eyes.