Anne Herries - Captive of the Harem

‘To learn and to suffer?’ Suleiman’s expression had caused the astronomer’s pulses to race for a moment. ‘Explain your predictions.’

‘All is not yet clear,’ Ali Bakr told him. ‘I see only that a bright flame has moved into the heaven of your chart. This flame will burn you and yet it will eventually bring you all that you long for in the secret places of your heart.’

‘You speak in riddles as always.’ Suleiman dismissed the astronomer with a handful of silver. ‘Come to me when I send for you—and give me a clearer reading next time.’

Suleiman had dismissed the old man’s ramblings as a misguided attempt to please him. It had happened often enough in the past. Most of his kind were charlatans and liars, pretending to a knowledge they did not have—yet he had heard much good of this one.

Suleiman had trained and fought for most of the day, and now his body was free of the restless energy that so often plagued him. The afternoon would be spent eating and drinking the rich dark coffee he enjoyed, talking with the men he knew as friends. Then perhaps he would send for Fatima…and yet he had no real desire for her.

Perhaps he should visit some of the better slave merchants? The Circassian women were beautiful and much prized; if he were lucky, he might find one that tempted him.

It was as he was being massaged with perfumed, healing oils by one of the eunuchs that the news came.

‘There is a message from Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn, my lord,’ the slave said. ‘He asks if you will grant him the favour of seeing him.’

Suleiman rose from the massage bench, wrapping a cloth around his waist. His back and shoulders glistened with the oil that had been rubbed into his skin, enhancing the honed beauty of his muscular torso. He had a presence, an air of power and confidence that kept others in awe of him, but also created a distance so that he had few true friends.

What could the Corsair want with him? Suleiman was aware of a tingling sensation at the nape of his neck and experienced the first prickles of a strange excitement. The Corsair’s reputation was known to him, though they had never met.

‘Ask him to come to my private room.’ He glanced at the officers who were also enjoying the benefits of being massaged by Suleiman’s slaves. ‘Excuse me, my friends. This will not take long. Please, eat, drink—and the women will entertain you.’

He gave an order to the eunuchs for dancing girls to be brought as he retired to his inner chamber, where only a very few were ever permitted.

‘Bring coffee and food,’ he told one of the slaves, ‘then leave us.’

Suleiman was seated on a silken divan, clad now in simple white trousers and a long white caftan belted at the waist, when the Corsair captain was shown into his presence. He fell on his knees but was immediately told to sit, which he did on the cushions provided.

‘We are both men,’ Suleiman said, his eyes narrowed and intent on the other’s face. ‘We shall speak as equals. You will take coffee with me?’

‘You honour me, my lord.’

‘You have something for me?’

Mohamed smiled. The Caliph’s son wasted no time. ‘I have been told you seek something rare and beautiful?’

‘This is true. What have you to sell?’ Suleiman frowned. It was said of this man that he had an eye for quality. When he had merchandise for sale it was always the best—always highly priced. Again he felt that tingling sensation in his spine and was conscious of excitement. ‘Is it treasure—or a woman?’

‘Some would say this woman is a treasure beyond price.’

‘Why?’ Suleiman’s hard gaze intensified. ‘There are already many beautiful women in my harem—what makes this one worthy of special attention?’

‘Her hair is the colour of ripe corn in the sunlight and reaches to below her waist,’ Mohamed said. ‘Her body is perfect, her eyes are azure like a summer sky and—’

‘And?’ Suleiman was demanding, imperious, dismissive of such details. ‘What else?’

‘She is clever. She speaks three languages, and I believe she reads Arabic. She is the daughter of an English baronet—curse all unbelievers!’

The prickling at Suleiman’s nape had become almost painful. He felt as if a thousand hot pins had been stuck into him, and it was all he could do to stop himself gasping. A feeling of intense excitement had come over him, but he had no intention of showing it.

‘Her mind is of little account,’ he said with a studied carelessness. ‘If her body is perfect, I may be interested. Where did you find her?’

‘I attacked the ship of a merchant of Cyprus,’ Mohamed said. He was not in the least put off by Suleiman’s apparent indifference. It was expected that they would bargain. ‘The ship was damaged and becalmed after the storm, and we thought it ripe for plucking—but a Spanish war galley bore down on us. We were able to take only the woman, her servant and a boy before escaping.’

‘How do you know she is the daughter of an English noble?’

‘She told me, my lord—in three languages. She insists her family would pay twice her price in the market for her return.’

‘And yet you come to me?’

‘I would not sell this woman in the market, my lord. Nor would I entrust her to the slave merchants, who might defile her. She is safe in a house I know of—and will stay there until I sell her.’

Suleiman nodded, his face expressionless. ‘What is your price for this woman?’

‘One thousand gold pieces, my lord.’

‘For a woman?’ Suleiman laughed scornfully. ‘No woman is worth a third of such a sum.’

‘Forgive me for wasting your time, my lord.’ It was clearly the Corsair’s intention to leave as he rose to his feet. Suleiman rose too, matching the Corsair for height and build. ‘I was told you sought something rare, a treasure beyond price but—I see I was misinformed.’

‘Stay!’ Suleiman’s face was very hawkish at that moment, his pupils more silver than black. ‘We have not yet concluded our business.’

Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn smiled inwardly. He had not thought for one moment that he would be allowed to leave.

‘She is truly beyond price, my lord. I would not have offered her to you if I had not thought the woman a rare prize. I swear you will not be disappointed in her.’

‘Eight hundred if she is what you claim.’

‘One thousand gold pieces—her family would pay more.’

‘For a woman?’ Suleiman scorned and yet he knew he would pay the price asked if she was all this man claimed. ‘A thousand then, but I will take the boy you spoke of, too.’

‘He has been sent to the slave market.’

‘Get him back,’ Suleiman commanded, determined that he must assert his authority in some way. The boy was of little importance, but a Corsair must not best the Caliph’s son in business. ‘One thousand for them both or you may send the woman to the market too.’

‘Come with me, child,’ the woman said to Eleanor in a soft, melodious voice. ‘You must feel so dirty after being on the galley for so many days. Bathe and rest and you will feel better.’

‘Who are you?’ Eleanor asked. She had been too weary to notice much as she was brought to this house that morning, but she had been given a delicious meal of rice and vegetables in a sweet sauce, and allowed to rest in a room by herself and was feeling better. ‘And where am I? What is going to happen to me—and where is my brother? Has he been brought here too?’

‘So many questions! I cannot answer the half of them.’ The woman laughed. ‘I am called Roxana and I am what some people call a Morisco—but I have mixed blood. My father was a Moor but my mother was Spanish.’

‘Are you a Muslim or a Christian?’