by Peter Grant
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Gulbahar exclaimed. “They probably won’t want anyone at present, but in time, that might be the best possible solution for them. Their future husbands can be told enough of their past to understand the situation, but since they won’t be part of our present system of nobility, they probably won’t care. After all, marriage will mean their own advancement to the nobility. They’ll have every reason to cooperate.”
“I can think of several military officers deserving of that, who’ll make very good husbands for your ladies,” Taghri assured her. “Still, let’s leave that to the gods to arrange as they see fit. I’m beginning to think Kokat can plot and scheme better than any human matchmaker!”
“Let your mother and I talk about that for a moment,” Dregat said to his daughter. “We’ll plan how best to break the idea to their families, and get their consent. While we do that, you can take Taghri out onto the balcony for a short while. I won’t send a chaperone with you. I’m trusting you both not to go too far.”
Gulbahar blushed scarlet. “Thank you, father.”
“Yes, thank you very much, your majesty,” Taghri hastened to add as he stood.
He opened the door for Gulbahar, and ushered her out onto the balcony ahead of him. The scent of the flowers from the garden below was heady, intoxicating on the warm night air. By unspoken mutual consent, they didn’t move to the railing, but stayed in the shadow of the building, cast by the moonlight above.
“I can hardly believe you’ve done so much, so quickly,” Gulbahar said softly, turning and nestling against him. “Thank you for persevering!”
“You were a wonderful incentive. After all, you wouldn’t be content to marry a common soldier, would you?” he teased.
“Not so common!” They chuckled softly together. “I think we’ll build a wonderful life together.”
“I look forward to seeing how our children turn out.”
She blushed again. “Children… how strange to think that your seed will soon take root and grow in my body!”
“I long for your body, dearest,” he whispered. “You inflame me with every move you make.”
She shivered, and raised her face to his. “Then I’d better stir the coals, to keep them hot until our honeymoon,” she murmured, and kissed him. It was a long, lingering embrace, one that fired their ardor until they were pressing tightly against each other, breathing hard.
At last Taghri pulled away, his head whirling. “I must stop! If we go on, I swear I’ll not be able to keep myself from taking you here and now!”
“I don’t want to stop you,” she admitted, sucking in a deep breath, “but you’re right. We won’t have long to wait now.”
“Let’s go back inside. We don’t want to give your parents cause to worry.”
“I don’t think they’re worrying, dearest. After all, they have a wonderful relationship. They’re most likely glad to see signs that we’ll have the same. They’re probably laughing at us right now.”
He snorted. “If you ask me, so is Kokat!”
As if to echo his words, a derisive, cawing cackle echoed through the night sky. They both jumped.
“Yes,” Gulbahar said with a smile, looking up. “That’ll be one of her ravens, letting us know she hasn’t forgotten us.”
“Just as long as the birds don’t expect to come on honeymoon with us.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. That’s what comes of consorting with goddesses!”
24
The wedding, four months later, was a tremendous success – if only at the cost of enormous effort in planning, organization and logistics, and considerable expense. Fortunately, Abu Reis’s captured fortune took care of the latter.
The Malik decreed that the marriage should take place in Ravenskeep. “After all,” he pointed out, “it’s now part of Kalba, and we want to display that to all the surrounding nations and principalities that’ll send representatives. We want to put our public stamp on our new territory for all to see, and what better way to do that than a royal wedding there?”
Everybody who was anybody in Kalba attended. Galleys and merchant vessels shuttled to and fro for weeks, and pavilions by the score were erected on the open ground outside the town to accommodate the guests. Taghri, now an Emir, had tactfully decreed that Abu Reis’ house, the largest in Ravenskeep, should be the Malik’s residence, always ready for him whenever he chose to visit the other half of his expanded kingdom. He’d spent a lot of money cleaning, redecorating and refurbishing it in the Kalba style, removing all traces of the fighting. He’d chosen Sidi Reis’ former home as his own residence, at least at first. It was smaller than the Malik’s, and – with Gulbahar’s agreement – comfortably, but not over-opulently furnished. She had visited Ravenskeep twice, with her mother, to help plan and supervise the two houses’ refurbishment. They’d ordered all they needed from merchants in Kalba, Alconteral and Lakibi. Taghri’s ships had ferried everything to the port, to have the houses ready in time for the ceremony.
The house between the Malik’s new residence and Taghri’s had been the home of the late Riad Reis. Taghri had earmarked and subdivided it to accommodate senior household staff for both residences, including Gulbahar’s four ladies-in-waiting. They’d arrived from Alconteral about a month before, still looking pale and wan, but no longer showing any evidence of pregnancy. With so much to do, they hadn’t had time to brood since then; and with prospects for a much brighter future ahead of them, they were rapidly regaining a more positive outlook on life.
Harith Reis’ former home had been temporarily taken over as an administration center, to run the affairs of Ravenskeep and coordinate activities until renovations to the fort and harbor were completed. The building was a hive of activity from dawn to dusk as businessmen and craftsmen from several nearby states came and went, looking for opportunities. They were seldom disappointed.
Prasad had made a fast voyage across the Great Bay to consult with his family. The fruit of his visit was the arrival of several ships containing hundreds of workmen, craftsmen, tools and supplies, as well as several more members of his family. They were now one-third partners in a shipbuilding enterprise with Taghri and Zulfiqar. The workmen had already begun digging a graving dock on the coast above the harbor, using the excavated rocks to extend the breakwater to shelter the dock, the shipyard’s future slipways, and fitting-out and repair berths. They were also erecting buildings for the shipyard, and homes for its officials, craftsmen and workers.
However, Taghri had refused to allow the establishment of a separate, ethnic township for Feringhi residents only. He was sure such separation would foster future friction. He had decreed, in his capacity as Emir, that any new arrivals who intended to stay long-term should live among Ravenskeep and Kalba citizens, to form one nation with them over time. They would be allowed to build temples to their own gods, of course. Prasad’s family had been hesitant at first, but finally agreed to try it for a year or two and see how matters developed.
A number of Feringhi workers were hard at work cutting stone blocks out of a quarry they’d established on a hillside, some distance outside town. Some would be used to line the graving dock. Others were being winched up the mountainside on a cableway to the site of a new dam, which would provide a greatly enlarged water supply for the settlement. Pipes and cisterns were already replacing the wasteful aqueduct, saving a great deal of water. Two more dams were planned, to provide water to additional farms inland. Taghri had agreed to allocate small initial parcels of land to would-be farmers once water was available, and allow them to buy more land on a sharecropper basis over time. He knew Ravenskeep could only benefit from an expanded local food supply.
A contractor from Alconteral had demolished Abu Reis’ ramshackle storehouses and bread ovens, restoring the fort to its purely military function, and was repairing its walls and other defenses. He was erecting strong, durable warehouses in the harbor and outside the walls, which would be extended in due course to pro
tect the greatly enlarged town. Taghri’s ships were kept busy shuttling back and forth between Ravenskeep, Kalba, Alconteral and Lakibi, bringing in food and other supplies for the ever-growing workforce. Two bakers from Kalba had received royal warrants to bake bread for the settlement. Workmen had hurriedly built temporary beehive ovens for them, which were already producing a thousand loaves every day.
Not all the traffic had been inward bound. Taghri had shipped out Abu Reis’ slaves to begin their homeward journeys, all except a hundred or so who’d asked to stay, and become citizens of the new and rapidly expanding settlement. There was no shortage of work for them, and they were earning good wages. Some had already asked permission to send for their families.
The remaining pirates had been swiftly tried and executed for their crimes. Rather than enslave them, their women and children had been exiled across the Great Bay to the Feringhi lands. Taghri had provided enough money to support them at a basic level for six months. After that, they would be on their own. He had no sympathy for any except the youngest among them. Directly or indirectly, the adults had knowingly lived off the proceeds of plunder and murder for decades. The wheel had now turned. The pirate families would suffer no more than their victims and their families had had to endure.
Taghri had discharged about half of the men he’d recruited to assault the place. He’d hired the best of the rest to join his personal guards, while the remainder had signed on to form the nucleus of what would become, in time, the Ravenskeep Regiment. More patrol craft, using both sails and oars, were under construction at Zulfiqar’s shipyard in Kalba, to secure the bay and its surrounding seas. They were being built of ribs and planks fastened with nails and pegs, and fitted with gaff rigs, to introduce the shipyard workers to the new design and construction techniques.
The chebec was kept busy on the same mission. Dregat and Taghri were already planning to build more and larger vessels of the same type, as time and money permitted. They would give Kalba a head start over nearby nations in the use of the new designs, and give the new shipyard at Ravenskeep its first orders. Already, sailors from Kalba’s military were being cycled through the chebec, to learn her new system of rigging, and to be trained as marine gunners. Some were now stationed at Ravenskeep to man the bastion at the entrance to the bay. A crane had been erected on the bastion’s ramparts, powered by a windlass, to hoist supplies directly from bedans ferrying them to the foot of the cliffs below at slack water, removing the need to carry everything up the path. One of Abu Reis’ former galleys was being used for local patrols.
Sergeant-Major Hadi, his wife, and Taghri’s personal guard force had moved to Ravenskeep, taking up residence in several of the houses formerly occupied by pirates. Fihr was still in Alconteral, winding up Taghri’s affairs there. Taghri had offered him a choice. He could relocate to Ravenskeep and continue as his factor; or he could set up in business for himself at Alconteral. As a sideline, he could also be Taghri’s agent in that city, buying and selling on behalf of Ravenskeep and many of its enterprises. Fihr appeared to be inclining towards the latter option, which pleased Taghri. To have a known, trustworthy representative in a city that was a major trading partner would be invaluable.
Elhac had moved Taghri’s fleet to Ravenskeep. With the addition of Abu Reis’ former trading vessels, it now numbered two baghlahs and four boums. He’d returned the hired bedans, leaving five that Taghri owned, plus the fishing boats from the beach. The smaller craft were all fully employed, fishing, making supply runs to the bastion, and aiding in construction, a task for which they were proving very useful running supplies and materials up and down, sparing the few roads. Elhac wanted to buy more vessels, too. As he said to Taghri, “We took this place, so I think it’s only fair that we control the lion’s share of its shipping. We earned it the hard way, after all.”
However, the Malik pointed out that other Kalba shippers were entitled to their fair share of the trade, and had requested that Taghri’s fleet should not seek to control more than half of it. Elhac had reluctantly bowed to the inevitable. “We can’t be too greedy,” he’d admitted with some chagrin. Even so, Taghri noticed with amusement, his definition of ‘half’ appeared to stray towards ‘two-thirds’ whenever he thought he could get away with it.
Sites and designs for the three temples had been approved, and orders placed for the materials needed to build them. Since Kalba was above all a maritime kingdom, the temple of Suhal, god of the waters, would occupy pride of place on the rise above the harbor. The temple of Hobal, god of war, would be next to the fort, outside the present walls, while the priestesses of Kokat had asked for a site hard up against the tall outcropping of rock to which the raven had led Taghri. A dozen breeding pairs of ravens had already built their nests in its crevices and hollows. Taghri had publicized the role the birds had played in recent events, and as a result everyone was markedly respectful to them. They were eating very well on food scraps offered by the workers at every meal – although they turned up their beaks, with caws of disdain, at the spicy curries enjoyed by the Feringhi, to general amusement.
The temples would be high-quality structures, using the best materials, paid for out of Taghri’s own purse. The three orders, duly grateful, had sent clergy from Kalba and Alconteral to officiate at the wedding, which would be held according to a combined rite involving all of them. In other centers there was little open cooperation between the orders. However, Taghri had insisted that in Ravenskeep, they were to work together for the benefit of the whole community. They appeared to have taken his strictures to heart, and were selecting accordingly those who would serve there.
The day of the wedding dawned fine and clear, to Taghri’s great relief. He’d already discovered that Ravenskeep was sometimes thrashed by severe storms, that could turn the bay into heaving whitecaps and toss ships around like toy floats. At least the important guests would not see their pavilions tear loose from their poles and guy ropes, and take flight into the mountains.
The day had been declared a national holiday. Workers downed tools to attend, except for those preparing a mammoth feast for the entire population when the ceremonies were over. Animals were roasting on spits, tables groaned with food and drink, and servants stood ready. Everyone was in festive mood.
The ceremony took over two hours, with intonations, blessings and prayers offered by the priests and priestesses of three different gods and goddesses. Taghri endured the weight and heat of his heavy official robes of office, while Gulbahar glowed gently in her white wedding gown and layers of veils. When they were finally pronounced husband and wife, they both had to restrain an indecorous cheer at being able to move at last.
However, they weren’t allowed to shed their ornate clothing. First came the reception. Every important guest, visitors from a dozen kingdoms and principalities, had to be formally greeted in the reception room of the Malik’s residence, and thanked for attending. Taghri and Gulbahar stood together, saying the right things to the right people, while servants whisked wedding gifts – some extremely valuable – away to another room as they were presented.
The Governor of Alconteral, Hamid Bousaid, and his wife were present as the formal representatives of the Sultan. Hamid smiled at Taghri as he leaned close and whispered confidentially, “I see you didn’t take to heart my strictures not to get too close to the Princess.”
Taghri had to choke back a chuckle. “I fear not, your excellency,” he murmured. “Indeed, I intend to get still closer to her, later this evening.” Now it was Hamid’s turn to splutter as he tried desperately not to give way to laughter.
“What are you two up to now?” Hamid’s wife said suspiciously.
“They’re being men,” Gulbahar retorted, shaking her head.
“Of course they are. What else can we expect?” They giggled.
It was after sunset before Taghri and Gulbahar could slip away. They’d decided not to sail anywhere on honeymoon, due to the immense amount of work still required to get Rav
enskeep up and running. Instead, they’d go into seclusion for a few days, in a pavilion erected for them in a clearing in the foothills, a few miles from the settlement. Elhac had personally supervised its preparation, mindful of Taghri’s warning that if any tricksters tried to sabotage it in the name of having fun with the newlyweds, blood would be shed. He’d had to fend off a number of would-be practical jokers.
They changed into lighter traveling clothes in their new home, then slipped out of the back door to where a light carriage was waiting, a present from the Malik and his wife. A troop of a dozen horsemen from Kalba’s Royal Guard rode before and behind them as the driver swung out of the town and headed up the coast, sticking to a hard-packed trail above the sand. All around them, revellers called their good wishes, interspersed with raucous comments of a not-very-helpful nature about the activities proper to a honeymoon. Gulbahar couldn’t help blushing furiously at a few of them. Taghri laughed. “It’s just as you said,” he teased her. “They’re being men!”
Their escort peeled off as the carriage reached the perimeter of the clearing where their pavilion had been erected. A steward waited for them, and opened their door to help them get out. “We’ve prepared light foods and wine for you, as you instructed, sir,” he said to Taghri in a low voice as he bowed. “You will not be disturbed until morning.”
“Good man. Thank you.”
Gulbahar exclaimed in surprise to see that the food and wine was embedded in ice-filled containers. “How on earth did you get ice here?” she demanded. “There isn’t any on your mountains, as far as I know?”