“Was Baba Hassan chief eunuch in lord Sharif’s time?” India asked the older woman.
“Nay, the chief eunuch was old Baba Mamood. He died shortly after my lord Sharif. Baba Hassan was my personal servant, and my lord Caynan raised him into his current position on my advice. Baba Hassan and I love Caynan Reis as we would a son. We do whatever we have to do to see to his happiness and his safety,” Azura told India.
“Who is he?” India wondered aloud. “I know nothing about him other than he, too, was once a captive. I do not know his nationality, or his station in his former life, or even his age.”
“He is twenty-eight,”Azura told her. “As for the rest, what does it matter? It has nothing to do with today. You love Caynan Reis, and that is all that should matter to you. Your life is here, and not back there in some other world, in some other time and place.”
India nodded. “You are correct, my lady Azura. The past is nothing now. We must live for the present.” She sighed. “I only wish that my family might know of my happiness. I hate to think of the pain I have caused them by my precipitous and hasty flight.”
“If they knew where you were,” Azura said, “they would surely attempt to retrieve you from us. Perhaps in a few years when you have children, you will be allowed to send a message to your mother.”
“My grandmother would understand my plight better than anyone else in my family,” India said. “She was in a similar position in her youth, and became the fortieth wife of the Grand Mughal Akbar.”
“Yet she returned to England?” Azura was puzzled.
“Her family learned where she was, but might have been content except Grandmama’s husband, the earl of BrocCairn, was alive. She had thought him dead in a duel, and had gone off to India with her elder brother to meet her parents when she was kidnapped and sent to my grandfather. By the time they found her, and requested her return, Grandmama had had my mother. Her family, of course, did not know that. My grandfather would not allow her to take the baby to England with her, and that is how Mama came to be raised in Akbar’s imperial court. My family is not like any others,” India finished.
“I should say not!” Azura remarked with a chuckle. “Ahh, we are finally back,” she said as the litter was put down with a small bump. “Come, my lady India, and I will show you your new apartments. Then we must go to the harem.” She laughed when the bride wrinkled her pretty nose in distaste.
India’s new apartments were directly adjacent to her husband’s. They would share the garden. There were but two rooms plus a small servant’s chamber. The walls were white, the floors squares of large red tile. The day room had a small fountain in its center that was made of yellow-and-white tiles. There were several overstuffed divans with rolled arms, striped in blue and yellow satin; low ebony tables inlaid with tiny squares of multicolored tile; a rectangular cedar table upon which were a silver tray holding a decanter of lemon sherbet as well as a blue-and-white Fezware bowl of fresh fruit. There were large colorful pillows with gold tassels and standing bronze lamps burning fragrant aloes. Lamps of colored glass and warm, polished brass hung from the ceilings. Sheer silken curtains hung in the arches that opened to the garden, the carved screens being pulled aside.
The bedchamber was simple. There was a bed upon a gilt-and-painted dais. The mattress was covered in silver and sea-blue silk. There were more tasseled pillows. Several cedar chests were placed about the room, and upon a lovely table with carved legs was a gold-backed hand mirror and matching brush for her hair. By the bed was a low table upon which rested a silver lamp burning perfumed oils. Carved ivory screens blocked the arches, and were hung with silk curtains.
“Are you pleased?” Azura asked her.
India nodded. “It is all so lovely. Please thank the servants for me, lady. They have done very well. What is in the trunks?”
“Part of your bride price, I suspect. Clothing, jewelry, fragrance. There will be time for you to explore later.”
“The harem,” India resigned. “Where are their gifts?”
“Baba Hassan will bring them when he knows we are ready,” Azura said. “If you go now, you will be able to join your husband all the sooner. Are you not ready again for his kisses and caresses?”
India blushed, nodding. “Let us go then,” she replied.
As they entered the harem, the day room grew suddenly silent as seven pairs of eyes fixed themselves upon India.
“Make you obeisance to our master’s wife, now head of this household,” Azura announced to them. Then her eagle eye observed as the seven women bowed low to India, even Samara.
“I thank you for your greeting,” India said in reply. “I have brought you all little tokens to celebrate my marriage today.” She turned to the chief eunuch. “Baba Hassan, you know which gift is for which lady. Will you hand the gifts to me? I admit to not choosing them, for I do not know you all well enough yet, but I would have them come from my hand to yours.” She smiled.
“Will the harem continue to exist, lady?” demanded Samara boldly. She was not a woman to beat about the bush.
“Whether the harem exists or doesn’t exist is not my province. That is in the dey’s domain. I am content, however, that you be here, but my husband’s house must be free of discord. I will strive to see that it is so, Samara.”
Her answer seemed to appease the harem women, and they each stepped forward to receive their gift. The gentle Mirmah set the tone by taking India’s two hands in hers, and pressing them to her forehead in a gesture of acceptance and respect. Each of the others followed Mirmah’s example, Samara being the last and obviously reluctant. India smiled at each of them, though some more warmly than others as she handed out the gift packets, which were wrapped in silk kerchiefs, and tied with gold ribbons. The ladies cried out, delighted as they opened their gifts, for Baba Hassan had not been stingy in choosing. The women compared the earrings and necklaces, and were all satisfied.
“Will you partake of light refreshments with us, my lady?” Mirmah asked India.
“I will be happy to join you,” India replied, noting that Azura had disappeared from the scene.
The women led India to a divan, positioning themselves about her upon cushions as the slaves brought sweet grape sherbet, and a plate with tiny honey cakes and small horns of chopped nuts, and dough filled with raisins, nuts, and honey. There were also sweet dates and juicy figs upon the plate.
“You know I am English,” India said as they ate. “I want to know about all of you. Mirmah is Circassian, Azura has told me, but what of the rest?”
“I am French,” Nila said. “I am seventeen, and have lived in the dey’s harem since I was fifteen. I was a gift to him from the dey of Algiers, who was my first master.”
“We are Greek,” Laylu said, indicating Deva in her statement. “We came from the same village, and have been enslaved since we were ten. Baba Hassan bought us in the market of El Sinut three years ago.”
“I am Venetian,” Sarai spoke up. “I come from a family of wealthy merchants. I was on my way to Naples to be married when my vessel was captured. After the corsair captain had taken his pleasure of me, he gave me to the dey, who beheaded him for violating me. Women captives are not supposed to be mistreated.”
“I am Moorish,” Leah said. “My family was poor, and sold me into slavery so they might survive. I had two masters before I came to the dey’s harem last year.”
“I am of Syrian birth,” Samara said curtly.
India did not press Samara further, for she obviously did not wish to speak on her origins in detail for whatever reason. “It seemed so strange here at first,” she said, “but now this is home. Did you all feel that way, too?”
The other girls nodded.
“Most of us were born free,” Sarai said. “Being a slave, even a privileged slave, is difficult at first. You have done well to win our lord Caynan’s heart and in such a short time, when none of the others of us could do it. He has always been kind, but he merely slakes his lusts upon our bodies. You have gained something more, my lady India, and we are frankly envious of you.”
India blushed, not knowing what to say.
“But we are safe and comfortable,” Mirmah spoke up, “and we shall all be friends. I was born on a slave farm, and raised to be a harem woman. It is better when the women of the harem get on, my lady India. My first master was Aruj Agha, who purchased me in the great market of Istanbul. One evening when the dey came to Aruj Agha’s house for a meal, he saw me, and admired me. Aruj Agha had me delivered to the palace the next morning. I like it here. Aruj Agha had no other women, for he could not afford them. It was lonely waiting for him to return from his voyages. I am glad we have each other, and I am happy that our lord Caynan has found a wife.”
Her sweet nature touched India, and, reaching out, she took Mirmah’s hand and Sarai’s hand in hers, saying, “I agree with Mirmah. We should all be friends, and keep peace in our lord’s house. I promise you that I will be a good mistress to you.”
“Allah!” Samara exclaimed. “I do not know if it is the cakes or the atmosphere, but I think I am going to be sick from all this sweetness.”
India burst out laughing. “You remind me of my sister, Fortune, Samara,” she said. “She says exactly what she is thinking, too.”
Samara was surprised by India’s reaction. She had expected the dey’s bride to be offended, but here she was making light of Samara’s rudeness. “Did you really take a knife to the dey when you arrived?” she asked India, frankly curious to know if the stories had been only rumor.
“I did,” India admitted. “It is fortunate my aim was so poor, as I now love him.” she chuckled.
“Allah! You are daring,” Samara said with grudging admiration.
“I was not taught to fear,” India replied quietly.
“How will you feel if our lord takes a second wife?” Sarai asked India frankly.
“Jealous,” India responded candidly, “but I shall have to live with it.” She paused.
“If he takes a second wife,”
she concluded.
The other women laughed.
“I suppose it is best to leave everything as it is now,” Samara said thoughtfully. “One wife, and a harem. It would appear that we can all get along if we try, and we are content as things are.”
The others murmured in agreement, and Azura, watching from behind a screen, was extremely pleased that India had taken her counsel, making her peace with the women of the harem.
She is an intelligent young woman,
the mistress of the harem considered.
She can be influenced if she is approached correctly. El Sinut will be kept safe from the machinations of the janissaries. I am certain of it now.
She turned her attentions back to the young women seated about India and listened with great interest, for they had somehow managed to turn the conversation to matters of a sensual nature.
India, blushing at their teasing, was clever enough to admit that she knew absolutely nothing about lovemaking other than what the dey had introduced her to the previous night. “I am so ignorant,” she said. “I know it is audacious of me to ask your help in such matters, but I would please our master.”
How ingenious of her, Azura thought admiringly. If nothing else, her very artlessness will win them all over. Even Samara. It is deftly done, particularly calling Caynan Reis our master, and not her husband. By not lording it over them she made herself one of them. It was skillful, and wickedly adroit of India. Azura considered the dey’s wife might turn out to be far more than they had anticipated.
The mistress of the harem turned her attention back to the seven women and India, listening with great amusement as they all began talking at once, for each was certain she could teach India how to please the dey better than any of the others. Azura remained to be certain none of the other women misled the bride, but they obviously did not consider it, being far too interested in imparting their own knowledge to her. The older woman shook her head wonderingly. Everything was going even better than she had hoped. Baba Hassan would be equally pleased when she told him. It was simply perfect!
Chapter
12
T
he chief eunuch bustled into the harem, and, going to India, bowed politely. “My lady, your husband wishes your presence.”
India arose at once. “I shall never remember
everything,”
she said with a small laugh. “May I come back tomorrow?”
“Yes!” they chorused, and sent her on her way.
“Well,” Samara said as the harem doors closed behind the dey’s wife. “I have to admit she is likable. Or so it would seem. Prepare yourselves for a drought ladies. He will not grow tired of her for some time, and we, fools as we are, are helping her to retain his attentions!”
“She will be with child the sooner,” Nila chuckled, “and then the dey will seek us out for his pleasure and amusement.”
“Why should she have a child when none of us have?” Leah asked.
“Foolish one,” Mirmah told her. “We are fed something in either our food or drink to keep us infertile. It is common practice in the harems of Istanbul. Did none of you know that? The lady India, however, will be given no such cordial. Indeed, she will be fed all manner of delicacies, as will the dey, to encourage them to produce a child. It will be nice to have a baby among us.”
“If she does not cease her cheerful, mindless prattle,” Samara muttered darkly to Sarai, “I may throttle our little golden bird.”
India, meanwhile, followed Baba Hassan back to her own quarters. As they entered the apartment, a young girl came forward, and bowed low.
“On the dey’s instructions I have been searching the slave markets these last few weeks, my lady, for a girl who could speak your native tongue and had a modicum of intelligence so you would have someone to serve you in whom you could put your trust,” the eunuch said. “I found this wench almost a month ago, and have endeavored to train her properly. If she pleases you, she is yours.”
India turned and smiled at the girl. She looked very young, and her gray eyes were quite apprehensive. She was slight of build and had carrot-colored hair that was quite startling in its brightness. “What is your name?” India asked the girl in English.
“Margaret, lady, though I be called Meggie,” the girl replied.
“You are English?”
“Nay, lady, I be Scots,” Meggie said.
“Ahhh.” India smiled. “I thought the accent not quite right. I am the stepdaughter of the duke of Glenkirk, Meggie. I grew up north and west of Aberdeen. Where are you from?”
“Ayr, my lady, where the laddies are braw, and the lassies are bonnie, ’tis said,” Meggie told her new mistress.
India turned to Baba Hassan. “The girl will do excellently. You have chosen well, Baba Hassan, but then, I would have expected no less of you. She is not however, English, but a Scot. As I was raised in Scotland, I am comfortable with her. Now, where is the dey?”
“He dines tonight with Aruj Agha, who has this afternoon returned from his voyage. He will come to you afterward, my lady.”
“Is my cousin, Osman the Navigator, with Aruj Agha? I would inquire after his health, Baba Hassan,” India said.
“I will see, and then bring you word, my lady.” He bowed himself from her chambers.
“Come,” India said, leading Meggie to a divan. “Tell me how you came to be in El Sinut?”
“My da is a sea captain, my lady,” Meggie said. “I was always begging him to take me on a voyage like he did me ma when they was young. So as I was to be married to Ian Murray this coming summer before the clans gather, Da said he would take me to Bordeaux where he was to pick up a cargo of wine. We was attacked in the Bay of Biscay.” The girl’s eyes grew teary. “Me da was killed right before me eyes, lady. Sliced right through him, they did! Me and the sailors that survived was carried off. I was nae harmed, though. Indeed, they was most careful of my well-being.” Then a rush of tears slid down her freckled face. “Now my Ian will marry that smug Flora MacLean, who’s always been after him like a cat wi a bird.”
“Aye, he probably will, lassie,” India said bluntly, “and there is little you can do about it, I fear. Women are rarely, if ever, ransomed from Barbary, and, besides, who would there be to claim you? You are fortunate, Meggie, that the chief eunuch of the dey’s household purchased you. You might have been sold to a cruel master or mistress, or, worse, into a brothel. You will be safe with me, and as the dey’s first wife, you will have a position of status among the servants.”
Meggie wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and, giving a final sniffle, said, “I’ll be faithful to ye, my lady, I promise.”
“I know you will,” India reassured the girl. “Do you know your way to the kitchen?”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Then go to Abu, the cook, and tell him that I desire my supper. Bring it back, and I shall eat in the garden. My husband is dining with an old friend.”
“Very good, my lady,” Meggie said, and hurried off.
Baba Hassan returned to tell India that her cousin was not with Aruj Agha, but had remained aboard their ship. “He has proved himself worthy of trust, my lady, and will soon begin to teach our sailors how to manage his round ship. We have captured two more in the last few months, one from the French, and another from the Dutch. Is the girl satisfactory, my lady? She cannot seem to learn our language, but had enough French that I was able to guide her. She seems willing enough.”
“She saw her father killed when their ship was attacked,” India told the eunuch. “He was the captain, and she was to be married soon. She is just getting over the shock of it all. If she is not stupid, I’ll try to teach her the language. At least enough to get about. She will, I believe, be a good companion for me. Thank you, but tell me, Baba Hassan. You say you purchased her for me over a month ago. I was still the dey’s body slave then.”
“But you were falling in love with him, my lady, and he with you. I could see it and Azura, too. I knew it to be a matter of time until you succumbed to his passions. You are young, and you are beautiful, and the juices of life flow deep within you. If I had waited until today to seek out a suitable servant for you, I might not have found one for months.”
India laughed. “You are a clever man, Baba Hassan. I believe the dey is fortunate to have you looking after his best interests so carefully. I am glad you and Azura are my friends.”
“Lady,” the chief eunuch said, “I know this is your wedding day, but may I speak with you seriously for a moment?”
India nodded.
“I must ask you to say nothing to your husband about the matter I am bringing to your attention. It is in your husband’s best interests, I assure you.”
India was intrigued. “I will keep your confidence, Baba Hassan.”
“I have many contacts throughout the sultan’s realm, my lady. It was brought to my attention several months ago that a plot was afoot in Istanbul to assassinate the sultan and his mother, the valideh. The instigators of this perfidy are the janissaries. Already they have dispatched an agent to the Barbary States. This man will seek to gain the Barbary rulers as allies, promising them freedom to rule without answering to the Sublime Porte,
and
freedom from tribute. It is a generous offer, but I do not believe this plot can prevail. Those who associate themselves with this treason risk death. The janissaries will be forgiven after some punishment. They always are because they are strong. Anyone else involved will not be forgiven, for an example must be made. El Sinut is the smallest of the Barbary States. It is possible we may not be approached, but if we are, Azura and I will need your aid in dissuading the dey from throwing his lot in with the conspirators. Remember, Aruj Agha is his closest friend, and Aruj Agha will be loyal to the corps first even if he disagrees with them. He cannot, will not, betray his fellow janissaries.”
“If I were the valideh,” India said, “I should punish the janissaries in the Barbary States. They are the least important men in the corps, yet, as janissaries, can be held liable for the betrayals of their fellows in Istanbul without really offending those traitors. I would punish the rulers of the Barbary States, and set men loyal to me in their place. Is that not right, Baba Hassan?”
“That is precisely what the valideh will do, my lady. How astute you are to see it all so quickly and clearly,” he told her.
“If my husband is approached,” India said, “I will help you and Azura to foil any plots against El Sinut. In the meantime, I will remain silent, for why should Caynan Reis be distressed by that which may not even happen. How will you discourage the agent of the janissaries?”
“If he comes here first, the dey will be advised to tell him to go to the other deys in Tunis, and Algiers, and Morocco, and then return to El Sinut. Caynan Reis will say, as the smallest of the Barbary States, he is the most vulnerable and must be certain the bigger states will involve themselves first before he commits El Sinut. If the agent comes to us last we will simply kill him so he may not return to Istanbul, but we will send his head to the valideh, telling her of the plots to dethrone her son, and that we did not betray the sultan.”
“Why not kill him if he comes here first?” India inquired.
“Because if he goes to the others, and they are willing to betray the sultan, and we are not, Caynan Reis looks the better for it. Perhaps the sultan and his mother will reward him in some grand manner, my lady.”
“And Aruj Agha? What of him?”
“He will not know until after the agent is disposed of, my lady. We can keep his loyalty and his friendship if we do not ask him to divide those qualities within him,” the eunuch answered her.
“I can see that I have much to learn from you, Baba Hassan,” India replied quietly.
He bowed low to her, smiling. “I am honored that you think so, my lady India,” he responded.
Meggie now returned, struggling beneath the weight of a tray. Staggering across the day room, she placed it with a clunk upon the cedar table. “Abu wasn’t certain what would please my lady’s palate,” she said dryly, “and so he has sent almost everything in the kitchen.”
“I will leave you to your meal, my lady,” Baba Hassan said, and he withdrew.
India walked over to the table, and began inspecting the foods the cook had sent her. There was chicken, a bowl of what appeared to be lamb stew, saffroned rice, steamed artichokes, a bowl of yogurt with peeled green grapes, flat bread, a honeycomb, a bowl of oranges, figs, a pomegranate and bunch of grapes, and a decanter of fresh sherbet.
“You will eat with me tonight, Meggie,” India said.
“Shall I fill your plate, my lady?” the girl asked.
India shook her head. “I will do it,” she replied, and cut herself several slices of the roasted chicken, which she lay upon her plate along with some saffroned rice and an artichoke.
When the servant saw her mistress was content, she spooned some of the lamb mixture onto her plate, and tore a piece of the flat bread off the round for herself.
“Is it good?” India asked her.
“Aye! ‘Tis certainly flavored better than my mam’s,” Meggie admitted, “and ’tis true lamb, not mutton, I’m thinking.”
India took her spoon, and lifted a chunk of the meat from its gravy. “It is good,” she agreed. “Try some chicken. Abu has flavored it with onion and sage, I believe.”
The two young women finished off their meal with the yogurt and the fruit. Meggie poured them both some of the tart-sweet sherbet to drink, and when it was consumed, she gathered all the dishes up, and returned them to the kitchen.
When she returned, she asked India, “Where am I to sleep, my lady?”
“That small cubicle is yours,” India told her, pointing across the day room. “Make certain there is a pallet for you there, and then come and help me prepare for bed. As my husband is entertaining, I do not imagine he will call for me this evening.”
Meggie undressed her mistress, and sponged her with rose water. Then India slid naked beneath the silk coverlet upon her bed, bidding her new servant good night. What a day it had been, she thought! Since this time last night she had lost her virginity, and had gotten married. Now the stories of her female relations’ adventures began to surface in her consciousness. She had always listened with but half an ear when they were told. It had been Fortune who had been fascinated by these tales. India had always thought them a little shocking, and perhaps not really true. Just made up adventures to amuse. Now she wasn’t certain.
There had been her stepfather’s great-great grandmother, Janet Leslie, whose portrait hung in the Great Hall at Glenkirk Castle. She, it was said, had been the favorite wife of a Turkish sultan. And, of course, her own great-grandmother, the fabled Skye O’Malley, who had lived in Algiers as both a wife and a harem slave. And Great-aunt Aidan, who had at one time been wife to a Tartar prince, and held captive in a sultan’s harem. And Aunt Valentina, who had been kidnapped, and held in a pasha’s harem, the very same pasha who had once enslaved her stepfather’s mother, the beautiful Lady Stewart-Hepburn. And, of course, her own grandmother, Velvet Gordon, who had been fortieth wife to the great Mughal ruler, Akbar of India.
It would seem she was following a family tradition, India considered wryly. The only difference was that all those women had eventually been able to make their way home. A tear slid down India’s cheek. For the first time since her capture, a great feeling of homesickness overwhelmed her. Until recently, she had not dared to exhibit an ounce of weakness. Now, however, she could not help herself. She wanted desperately to see Mama and Papa, and Fortune and Henry, and the rest of their siblings. Had they cried when news of her capture came? Did they even know? Or had they assumed she had run off with Adrian Leigh, and was now his wife, and would eventually return? Did they even miss her, or had they washed their hands of her, taking Fortune off to Ireland to find her a husband? Fortune, who had thought it very practical that their parents find her a husband.
Will they ever know what happened to me?
India wondered. And she sobbed softly.