“Kapitan, where are our garments?” Aidan demanded bravely.
“You won’t need them any longer,” was the reply. “You are clean now, and tomorrow you will be paraded naked to the jenina as is our custom, and afterward to the bagnio. It helps to drum up interest in your sale, and bring in the buyers. Stand apart now for I want to see you, and gauge your value. Achmet will examine each of you so I may honestly attest to your health.”
“Sweet, holy Mary,” moaned Margaret Browne, and Aidan was inclined to agree with her, but Rosamund and Pipere flung the Kentish girl a look of impatience that was so obvious that it caused both the captain and the physician to give a chuckle.
“Courage, Meg,” said Aidan in a kindly voice, and she moved away from her companions.
Rashid al Mansur walked slowly around her with admiring eyes. “My eyes did not fail me that first night,” he said to Achmet. “The woman is pure perfection of form.” He took a handful of Aidan’s coppery hair, and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s heavy, and like silk,” he remarked. His hand ran over her buttocks, and she winced, her teeth sinking into her lip as he squeezed the flesh lightly. “The skin tone is good, Achmet.” He moved around to face her, and cupped one of her breasts in his palm. “The breasts are firm as well,” he said, and then concluded, “She’s going to bring us a fortune! Her cousin will be a rich man.”
He moved away from Aidan, and began a similar examination of Margaret who although she stood still, wept bitterly as she was inspected.
“They’re treating m-me l-like one of m-my father’s m-mares,” sobbed Meg.
“A woman ain’t nuffin but a piece of meat,” said Rosamund. “Sooner ye gets that inter yer head, the better off ye’ll be, Mistress Fancy.”
“Rosamund,” said Aidan, gentle reproof in her voice. “Yer mother had a hard life, and she taught ye to be realistic, but Meg’s world was a little bit gentler. Don’t frighten her any more than she already is. This is not easy for any of us.”
“Yer a high-and-mighty laidy, and yet yer managing to hold yerself together,” said the child. “Meg is just too soft! Listen to me, Mistress Meg. If yer too soft in this life people takes advantage of ye. Remember that! If ye wants to survive, then ye’ve got to be strong!”
God’s nightshirt! thought Aidan. Out of the mouth of this child comes a wisdom that even I should heed. If I show weakness for even a moment, I will be destroyed.
“Check for the truth of their virginity,” said Rashid al Mansur, and even the feisty child-woman, Rosamund, looked askance, for he had spoken in English that they be warned of the physician’s intent. Then he quickly gave the order in Arabic as well.
The physician, who had inspected each girl for her general health and blemishes now led each of the three blonds to the captain’s bed where he laid them down in a row preparatory to examining them.
“Don’t struggle!” Aidan quickly warned the girls. “He will not disturb your virgin state, he only wishes to attest to it. Don’t be frightened, Meg,” she added as the girl began to whimper.
“You are quick-witted, copper-haired woman,” said Rashid al Mansur approvingly. “You are fit to be a sultan’s consort.”
“I have a husband,” said Aidan, “and he would ransom me if ye would but contact him.”
“Your husband is by now probably dead, and your wealth is gone, copper-haired woman. There is ransom for men of position and power and wealth, but for lovely women, whatever their rank, there is no ransom. Do not be afraid. You will be bought only by someone of great wealth for none else could afford you. You will be cherished, and loved by your master. Allah may even grant you children of your own. A wonderful life awaits you, copper-haired woman. Do not fight so hard against your fate.”
Aidan turned away from him. His words unnerved her. They took away her hope, and that frightened her. I will tell the man who buys me the whole story, she thought, and he will contact Conn, and my husband will ransom me. It is going to be as I have planned.
It is
!
When Achmet had finished examining the three younger girls, and had assured his master, Kapitan Reis Rashid al Mansur, of their pure state, the two men left the cabin. They were fed a particularly good supper that evening for now that they were in port fresh food was available to them again. There were slices of baby lamb that had been roasted with tiny white onions, and green peppers; and a small capon for them to share, and a bowl of saffroned rice. There was a platter of fresh fruits, already sliced, and swimming in a tasty mixture of their juices. Aidan didn’t recognize all of the fruits, but they were certainly delicious. To drink there was something that Sa’id called lemon sherbet. It was tart and yet sweet. Wine, Rashid al Mansur had told Aidan, was forbidden in Muslim countries. She did not question him about the wine she had drunk on his ship earlier.
They slept fitfully that night, all together upon the captain’s large bed, but the noise of the port, and their own nerves combined to make them restless, even the usually tough Rosamund and her little sister, Pipere. For a brief time between the darkest hour of the night, and the dawn, the city grew still, and they slept their only peaceful sleep of the night. Then the sun burst over the horizon, and the city as quickly burst to life again, the sound of the muezzin’s voice calling the faithful to prayer, and then the sounds of commerce beginning as the prayers ended and the day began in earnest.
Sa’id came and brought them rosewater with which to freshen their mouths, and then they were fed that peculiar flat bread they had first seen upon this ship, briny olives dripping oil, and goat’s cheese. Afterward more rosewater was brought for them to bathe their hands and faces, and to once more purify their breaths. Then the black slave motioned them out the door of the cabin.
For a long moment they stood and stared at the open door, and then Meg voiced their thoughts. “I can’t go out there . . .
naked
!” she whispered.
Aidan took a deep breath. Meg was going to have to fend for herself now. She, herself, could barely keep from shaking.
Naked.
They were being asked to walk naked out onto the deck of this ship, down its gangway, and onto the streets of this city. It was a terrifying thought, and Aidan wasn’t certain that she could do it, but she knew if she didn’t then the others wouldn’t. Somehow it was better, she reasoned, to go under her own steam than to be carried kicking and screaming from this ship.
Gritting her teeth she walked through the open door, and followed Sa’id down the narrow ship’s passageway onto the deck. She was stark naked but for a necklace of gold and large pearls that she had been wearing the day she was kidnapped. Her long red-gold hair hung to her hips like a shining silken mantle, and from her ears bobbed fat baroque pearls. At the entry to the open deck she hesitated a moment as she saw the bright blue sky and the sun above.
I can’t do it,
she thought.
I just can’t!
Then behind her young Rosamund hissed, “Ye’ve got us this far, yer laidyship, don’t fail us now. That silly Meg is hanging on to Pipere so hard that she’ll strangle her sure unless ye keeps moving.” Aidan looked quickly behind her, and saw that what the child had said was true. She also saw that Rosamund for all her bravado was frightened.
Drawing another deep breath she gave the girl’s hand a hard squeeze, and stepped out onto the deck where Sa’id handed her a pair of sandals, Rashid al Mansur’s one concession to his captive women. Sandals were given to the other three, and they barely had time to get them onto their feet when Rashid al Mansur was saying, “Hurry, for I have been sent word that the dey himself will be at the jenina for just this hour. I will be the most envied man in Algiers tonight for having brought in such fine captives! Follow me, all of you!” and he strode across the deck, the four women hurrying behind him.
For a moment all was silent, and then the air erupted with whistles, and shouting and catcalls in every tongue imaginable. A large smile split the face of Rashid al Mansur at the cacophony of voices. The voices were those of slaves working the waterfront for their masters, galley slaves on their benches, porters, sailors from the various ships, and vendors of all sorts. By the time he walked his captives the short distance to the jenina the word would be racing like wildfire about the city with regard to his captives’ beauty and worth. The auction for them would be packed, and frantic.
“Etes-vous francais?”
called a voice, and other voices that Aidan comprehended cried out in their languages also. “Venice? Are you from Venice?” “I am Jean-Paul Thierry from Marseilles! Are you from Marseilles?” “Are you from Napoli?” “Genoa?” “San Lorenzo?” “Beaumont de Jaspre?” “Amsterdam?” “Paris?” “London?”
London? Had he said London?
She stopped and her head swiveled about seeking the face to match the voice. “Who said London?” she demanded. “I am Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss. My husband is Conn O’Malley of Innisfana Island! Tell him where I am, I beg ye!”
Rashid al Mansur grasped Aidan’s arm, and dragged her forward. “Do you want to start a riot, copper-haired woman? Whenever new captives are unloaded from the ships the slaves in the harbor attempt to elicit information as to who they are, and where they’re from. It doesn’t mean that they themselves are from those places. Hurry now! The jenina is just up ahead.”
“How could any of those poor creatures tell yer husband anyfing?” said Rosamund. “If they ain’t chained to some oar, they got manacles around their feet. I thought ye was a practical woman.”
Aidan said nothing, but her hand itched to smack Rosamund. The child was far too bold for her own good. Rashid al Mansur led them through an archway, and into the tiled courtyard of a low white building.
“Take off your sandals,” he ordered them.
The tiles felt deliciously cool beneath her feet, and Aidan followed the captain across the courtyard which had a lovely bubbling fountain in its center, and into a small square room.
“Wait here,” he commanded them, and hurried out.
“Sweet Jesu,” wept Meg, “in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined what just happened to us!”
“Nuffing happened to us,” snapped Rosamund. “At least not yet. All we did was walk the short distance from the ship to here.”
“Naked!” sobbed Meg. “Naked, with men shouting and calling to us! God only knows what they said!”
“They said nothing that would have distressed ye had ye been able to understand them,” said Aidan with more calm than she was feeling. “They were simply poor captives like ourselves, calling out their names, and where they came from because they were curious as to where we came from, Meg.”
“What is going to happen to us now?”
Aidan turned surprised for the question had come from little Pipere. She stroked the child’s head, and said, “I am not certain, Pipere, but I believe that the governor of this place is allowed the first pick of the captives. Then we are sold in the market.”
“Will Rosamund and me be separated, me laidy?”
“I don’t honestly know, Pipere, but I would expect so.”
Rashid al Mansur reentered the room. “Come!” he commanded them. “The dey has arrived, and wishes to see you.”
They followed him into a large room with arched windows that looked out over the harbor. The building, Aidan realized, was built on a hillside. At one end of the room there was a dais, and two men sat upon the pillows of the dais. One was an elderly man with a snow-white beard, and sharp, brown eyes. He was dressed in an embroidered robe of black with red and gold roses upon it. The other man was garbed simply in a white robe.
“The old man is the dey,” hissed Rashid al Mansur. “The other man is his friend, the famous astrologer, Osman Bey.” Then the kapitan reis prostrated himself before the dey. “Hail, my gracious lord! Representative of he who is the Shadow of Allah upon this earth!”
“Rise, Rashid al Mansur,” came the reedy voice of the dey. “As I came from my palace the city was already abuzz with word of the fine merchandise you have brought us. It will be a pleasure to view your captives. The city is yet awash with a surfeit of Portuguese captives from our recent victories, and not a beautiful woman among them. The price of slaves has been driven to an all-time low, and they are not even worth the little we must feed them. Your females are a welcome delight.”
“They are English, my lord. The three younger ones are virgins, attested to by my own physician. They are ten, eleven and thirteen respectively.” He prodded Meg, Rosamund and Pipere forward hissing, “Display yourselves for the dey and his guest!”
“Blonds,” sighed the elderly dey. “They will bring a fortune on the open market, Rashid al Mansur. Certainly Allah has smiled upon you!”
“My lord has the right of first choice,” said the kapitan reis.
The dey sighed again, this time loudly. “Alas I am an honorable man, and the price of these exquisite virgins will be far too much for my purse. Who is the other woman?”
Rashid al Mansur drew Aidan forward, and said with flourish, “This, my lord dey, is an English noblewoman. She is now widowed so alas I cannot claim virginity for her, but look at the color of her hair, her skin, and her eyes! Is she not fit for a king? When have you ever seen such hair? It is the color of burnished copper! And her skin! Like mare’s milk! Look into her eyes, my lord dey! They are silvery in color. Behold her form, my lord dey! Is it not the most perfect body you have ever seen?” He had embellished his speech by touching Aidan’s hair as he spoke of it, her breasts, her face, and it had taken every ounce of her courage not to scream, and slap his hands away.
The dey leaned forward, and his tongue ran quickly around his lips. “Osman Bey, what think you? She is indeed lovely, and a rarity.”
“She is certainly fair,” said Osman Bey, “and only once before have I seen a form to rival hers.”
The elderly dey arose from his pillows, and came down from his dais for a closer look at Aidan. Into her nostrils poured the scent of sandalwood for his clothing and body reeked of it. Slowly he walked around her. His hand came up to stroke her hair, and he said, “It is like the finest silk, Rashid al Mansur.” The dey took Aidan’s hand. “Tell her to place her hands behind her head,” he said to the kapitan reis, and Rashid al Mansur translated the command to Aidan who reluctantly obeyed. The dey’s hands reached up to fondle Aidan’s breasts, and tears sprang to her eyes, but he did not notice them. “The skin is most firm, and yet soft. This is a slave of the first rank.” He looked at Rashid al Mansur. “What value do you put on this woman, kapitan reis?”