The Love Slave (29 page)

Bathed, and massaged, her fingernails and toenails neatly pared, Zaynab was reclothed in her silk robe. Thanking the lady Obana, she turned to go, but suddenly Naja gasped softly, and bowing low, stepped aside, allowing the lady Zahra to enter the chamber. Zaynab fell to her knees, her head bowed.

A tiny smile of amusement touched Lady Zahra’s lips. “It is not necessary for you to kneel to me, Lady Zaynab. Kneel only to our lord and master, Abd-al Rahman al Nasir I’il Din Allah, the great and victorious Caliph of al-Andalus.”

Zaynab rose immediately. “I but do honor the lady Zahra, she who holds the caliph’s heart, mother of his heir, for whom this city was named. I am neither meek nor humble, madame, but your status demands that I behave in a mannerly fashion, lest I shame he who trained me and he who sent me to the caliph in gratitude for his many kindnesses.”

Zahra laughed a tinkling laugh. “You are clever,” she said. “That is good. You will amuse my husband. He needs a new diversion, for he grows easily bored of late. Please him as long as you can, Zaynab.” Then the lady Zahra turned about and departed the same way she came.

Well, well, the Mistress of the Baths thought to herself. The lady Zahra is afraid of this one. She is concerned enough to beard the girl on her first day in the harem. She has never been afraid of any of the others. Why this one? It is interesting. Yes, I shall watch this drama unfold about me with pleasure.

Zaynab walked the width and the length of the harem back
to her quarters. The other women watched her openly now; some with simple interest, some with envy, some bitterly, for her beauty was not to be denied and would draw the caliph’s attention away from them.

When she was safely within her little apartment, Zaynab collapsed upon the divan. “I have met the lady Zahra,” she announced to Oma. “She is already jealous of me, and so are the others. I could feel their hatred reaching out to score me as I returned from the baths.”

Oma had brewed mint tea on one of the little braziers. She pressed a small porcelain cup into her mistress’s hands. “Drink. You need your strength, my dear lady. It has been a hard day, and it is not over yet. Naja, we have not eaten since dawn. My lady needs food.”

“I will fetch it for you,” he said eagerly.

“Naja.” Zaynab spoke.

“Yes, lady?”

“I have told you that I will destroy you if you ever betray me, but if you are loyal to me, your rewards will be great and many,” she told him. “You were not, I suspect, born a slave, any more than I was. You are fortunate to have survived your surgery.”

He nodded. “I am a Rumi from the Adriatic coast,” he told her. “I was taken five years ago when I was twelve. My two brothers died of the operation. The slaves said I was the fortunate one to have escaped the jaws of death. My name means deliverance. I came into this household two years ago. I know why you chose me from among the others, but in doing so, lady, you have raised me in rank. One has but to look at you to know that the caliph will love you. Your success is mine as well. I will serve you with loyalty.”

“Any fool can attract a man’s attention,” Zaynab said. “It is the clever woman who keeps it, Naja. Do you understand me?”

He smiled for the first time in her presence. “I will not fail you, lady,” he promised her and hurried off to find them food.

“Can we trust him, I wonder?” Oma said, her amber eyes contemplative. “He’s no Mustafa, is he?”

“He will serve me loyally as long as my interests dinna conflict
with those of Lady Zahra,” Zaynab said, switching to their native tongue. “That great lady is the real power here in the harem, nae the caliph, Oma. We must nae allow ourselves to forget it. Lady Zahra hae been wi’ the caliph for many years, and she hae his love, and his trust. If I am fortunate, I will bind him to me for a wee time, and perhaps even bear him a bairn, but the lady Zahra will always be queen in this place. Naja will serve me well, but if called to choose between us, he will side wi’ the lady Zahra. Guard yer tongue around him if ye can.”

“Do ye think the caliph will visit ye tonight, my lady?” Oma wondered aloud. “He be a braw gentleman, I’m thinking.”

“He will come,” Zaynab said with certainty. “I could see the interest in his eyes when he unveiled me earlier. Then, in the baths when I met the lady Zahra, she told me that the caliph is bored and needs a new diversion. She said it to hurt me, of course. To reassure herself that she will always be first in his heart, and I but a passing fancy.”

“ ’Twas cruel, lady,” Oma sympathized.

“ ’Tis nae but the truth, my wee Oma. ’Tis unlikely this mighty man will fall in love wi’ me forever, but if I can gain his favor long enough to hae a bairn of my own, then we shall always be safe here, and nae lonely ever again. To gain those ends I will do what I must.”

Naja returned, bearing a tray. Upon it was a bowl of rice with pieces of capon breast in it. A second bowl held creamy yogurt with freshly peeled green grapes. There was a piece of warm flat bread and a dish of fresh fruit. Carefully he placed his burden upon the brass table where Zaynab and Oma had seated themselves. Taking a silver spoon from his robes, he dipped it first into the rice and chicken dish, tasting it, and then into the yogurt, which he also tasted. Then, nodding with satisfaction, he gave them each a spoon with which to eat from the communal bowls.

“I will taste everything for you, my lady Zaynab,” Naja said. “Poison is a favorite weapon here in the harem. The bread I took myself as it came from the ovens, and the fruit I personally chose, but the kitchen slaves dished up the bowls. We cannot be too trusting, nor can we be too careful. Nonetheless,
should someone or something slip beneath our guard, Hasdai ibn Shaprut, the caliph’s favorite physician, has rediscovered a universal cure for all poisons. It is unlikely you would die, but you could be wretchedly uncomfortable and your innards scarred.”

Zaynab swallowed hard. This was not something Karim had dwelled upon during her education.
Karim
, She had vowed never to say his name again, or even think of him, yet the sun had not even set and her thoughts were turning to him. How wonderful that last month at Escape had been. It was just the two of them. Each day food had appeared as if by magic. The wine decanter had been kept filled. They had talked, and made love, and walked in the hills together. She had wanted it to go on forever. Knowing it could not, she wished for death instead, but that did not come either. The choice, of course, had been hers; but Zaynab knew she was not a silly, weak fool like the Love Slave Leila had been. There was life, and there was death. Living was the harder, stronger choice, and she wanted to live even if she could not have Karim. A strong streak of common sense ran in her veins. No man, not even Karim, was worth her life. She would always love him, but her loyalty would be to this caliph who was to be her master.

Still, Zaynab sighed deeply, remembering. In the end she and Karim had returned to the villa, and the same litter that had brought her along the coast road from Alcazaba Malina returned her to
I’timad
. They had sailed across the Gulf of Cadiz into the mouth of the Guadalquivir, and up the river to Cordoba. He had not touched her since they had left Escape. Nor would he ever again, Zaynab thought sadly. Then she shook herself impatiently. It was over. She had another new life, and with luck, one day she might find happiness again.

Reaching out, she took a fruit from the bowl and bit into it. The sweet juice trickled down her chin. “What is it?” she asked Naja. “I like it.”

“It is a plum, lady. Do you not have plums in your land?”

“Nay, there are no plums in Alba. We have apples, and some pears, but no other fruits,” she explained.

The meal finished and cleared away, Naja brought them a bowl of scented water with which to wash their hands.

Zaynab stood up. “I must rest now,” she told them, and disappeared into her bedchamber.

“Have you chosen her garments for tonight, in case the caliph should come to her?” Naja asked Oma.

The girl nodded. “She is so beautiful, she needs little adornment, I think. Just a silk caftan, her hair scented and loose about her. I have chosen a caftan the color of her eyes.”

“Perfect,” Naja agreed.

There was a knock upon the door, and the young eunuch hurried to open it. Another eunuch stood outside. Wordlessly, he handed Naja a silken packet, and turning, departed. Naja could scarcely contain himself as he handed it to Oma.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“A gift from the caliph, Oma! It means that our master will certainly come to her tonight. She has already found first favor with him. Such a thing is unheard of! No woman has ever found favor so quickly! She will be the great love of his old age. I sense it!” the eunuch said excitedly.

Open, the packet revealed a large and absolutely flawless round pink pearl.

Naja’s dark eyes met Oma’s meaningfully.

Cha
p
ter 10

T
here was no knock upon the door. It simply opened, and the caliph entered the room. Jumping up, Oma and Naja bowed low.

“Where is the lady Zaynab?” the caliph asked politely.

“She is in her private chamber, my lord,” Oma said softly, her eyes lowered.

The caliph nodded in answer. Opening the door of the bedchamber, he passed through.

She had heard him in the outer room. Now she bowed silently, patiently awaiting his command. He closed the door behind him and stared at her for a long moment Zaynab did not move. Indeed she was barely breathing, for she suddenly realized that she was a little frightened, although her face showed no emotion whatsoever. She was frozen like a statue.

“I thought that I had imagined your astounding beauty,” he finally said, breaking the silence between them, “but you are indeed real, Zaynab. Disrobe for me now. Those tantalizing little glimpses of your body this morning in that fetching costume you wore have made me eager to see all of you.”

His tone was demanding, as if he were struggling to contain his impatience for her. The look on his face was imperious. He was obviously a man used to immediate obedience. Then, as if to put her at her ease, he smiled a quick smile at her. His teeth were square, even, and white. His hair, without the turban, was indeed a reddish-blond; the eyes beneath the sandy lashes a deep blue.

How strange, she thought. She had assumed before coming here that Moors were all dark-haired, dark-eyed men, yet it
seemed they were not. Her fingers reached up to undo the tiny pearl buttons on her caftan. One by one she unfastened them, her eyes never leaving his. The last button slipped its silken loop. The caftan was open to the navel. The caliph’s gaze was mesmerizing, and she still could not breathe.

Before she might shrug the garment from her, he reached out, easily parting the twin halves of the caftan and sliding it over her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a small hiss of silk. Abd-al Rahman stepped back a pace and let his deep blue eyes wander the lush curves of her body. “Where,” he said softly, “in the name of all the seven djinns did Donal Righ ever find a creature as magnificent as you?”

“I was brought to him by a Norseman,” Zaynab replied, amazed that she could actually speak again. “He raided the convent in which I had been placed.”

“You were a Christian nun?” His eyes feasted upon her breasts, and it was all he could do not to bury his face between them.

“Nay, my lord. I was to be, but I had only arrived that same day,” Zaynab explained.

“What cruel, unseeing, unfeeling man could place so beautiful a maiden within a convent’s high walls?” the caliph demanded half-angrily. “You were not meant to be incarcerated, a dry virgin, for the rest of your days. Praise be to Allah that my old friend, Donal Righ, found you!”

Zaynab laughed at his ardent opinion. She could not help herself. He was certainly a passionate man. “I have a twin sister, my lord,” she explained. “We are identical, but she is the elder. Our father died before our birth. We were his only legal offspring. It was decided that Gruoch would wed a neighboring lord’s heir, and that I would be sent to the convent. The decision was made on the day we were born. Neither of us had any say in our fates.”

“Could not a husband be found for you as well?” the caliph wondered. Allah, her hair was incredible. He wanted to feel its softness on his naked body.

“A husband for me would have caused difficulty. He would have wanted half of our father’s land, my lord. The neighboring
lord wanted it all for his heir and his kindred. I cannot fault him. Our two families had feuded for years. My sister’s marriage put an end to the waning. There was no other place for me but in a convent,” Zaynab finished.

“Your place is here in my arms,” the caliph said firmly. “You belong to me, and me alone, my beauty!” Reaching out, he drew her to him. Then, taking her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, he kissed her mouth, exploring its texture, its firmness, the special taste of her. His eyes swam with a look of melting lust as he ran the very tip of his tongue across her lips. “Ummmmm, you are delicious,” he declared, “and you are meant for nothing but pure pleasure. ’Tis why Allah created you, Zaynab. Your fate is to pleasure me, and be pleasured in return. I am an excellent lover, as you will shortly learn.” With one hand he began to knead her left breast gently. “I am half in love with you already,” he told her. “You excite my body as it has not been excited in many a year. My heart calls out to yours, Zaynab.” His hand now moved to caress her face, even as his low voice caressed her rebellious spirit “Are you afraid of me, my exquisite one? You need not be, for your sweet surrender to my will guarantees you my favor.”