The Love Slave (9 page)

Gunnar Bloodaxe named his price, and Donal Righ winced delicately. He counteroffered, saying as he did, “The serving wench is to be included in the price as well. I cannot have the
girl parted from her companion, lest it sadden her and she sicken and die. Too many of these girls will do that, you know, and then the entire investment is lost.”

“If you would have the servant, Donal Righ, you will have to better yer offer,” Gunnar Bloodaxe told him. He was not fooled. The slave merchant wanted his fair captive, as he had known that he would.

Donal Righ’s short, stubby fingers worried the fabric of his sleeve. Properly trained, and he knew what she could be, the girl was perfect for what he had in mind. The Norseman was a wily, stubborn fellow fully capable of selling her as a whore to some Celtic brothel keeper just to get what he felt was a fair price. Donal Righ upped his offer by half again, and Gunnar Bloodaxe, who had not expected to get that good a price for Regan, was stunned. He nodded mutely.

“Abu, take the women to the baths, and see that they are made comfortable,” Donal Righ instructed his servant quickly, before the Northman could change his mind. “Then bring me my strongbox, and send Gerda for wine, that Gunnar Bloodaxe and I may toast this sale between us.”

“It is a good bargain,” the Norseman said slowly, still amazed by his incredible good fortune. Eubh would certainly be surprised … 
if he told her
. He looked up to discover that the two girls had been shepherded from the room by the tiny Abu. “What will you do with her?” he asked Donal Righ. “You must have some purpose in mind, I know.”

“I owe a debt to a certain lord in my mother’s homeland,” Donal Righ answered him. “I shall send the girl to him in gratitude for his patronage. Fair-skinned and fair-haired girls are greatly prized amongst the Moors. He is a man who enjoys a variety of women. She will undoubtedly please him, furthering the lord’s gratitude to me.” He smiled broadly at Gunnar Bloodaxe. “I have paid you too much for the girl, my friend, but it pleases me to do so, knowing the advantage the girl will give me with my lord.”

“Yer a sly old fox.” The Northman chuckled, feeling expansive now that he believed he had gotten the upper hand with Donal Righ.

“Will you be back in Dublin before year’s end?” Donal Righ asked Gunnar Bloodaxe.

“I think not I would be home in time for the midsummer festivities. I’m taking another wife then, and my oldest two sons cannot get in the harvest without me. Besides, my cousin, Eubh, the abbess, will not have another shipment of slaves readied for me until next spring. Her convent is where I got this beauty. Mostly they are just peasant girls with small dowries sent to be nuns. Their families never expect to see them again. It makes it easy for us. If I ever get another like this one I’ve just sold ye, I’ll bring her to ye, Donal Righ.” He chuckled good-naturedly.

Abu returned, his little legs almost buckling beneath the weight of his master’s strongbox. He was accompanied by a tall, spare woman carrying a tray with wine and goblets. Gunnar Bloodaxe watched, astounded, as Donal Righ removed small bars of silver from the brimming chest. The Norseman was a simple man with a single ship, a farmstead in Daneland, and two wives. In his entire life he had never seen so many riches. He wondered if there was some way in which he could steal the money box, but then decided there was not. Donal Righ’s house was too well fortified.

Donal Righ shoved the bars of silver across the table to Gunnar Bloodaxe. “The price agreed upon,” he said, closing the chest. He signaled to Abu, who picked it up and tottered from the chamber.

The serving woman had already poured them goblets of wine, and now stood deferentially by, awaiting her master’s further orders.

Donal Righ picked up his goblet, nodding to his companion to do the same. “
Skaal!
” he said, and drank the wine down in a single gulp.

“
Skaal!
” Gunnar Bloodaxe returned, doing the same even as he pocketed the silver.

“May ye have good seas for yer return home,” Donal Righ said, dismissing the Viking, who, realizing there was nothing left to say, thanked his host and departed. As he walked back through the town toward the docks, he wondered a moment
about the beauteous Regan MacDuff. Then seeing Thor Strongbow coming toward him, Gunnar Bloodaxe hailed his mate and together they continued on their way back to the ship.

Cha
p
ter 3

“W
hat manner of place is this?” Regan asked the old woman called Erda.

“Why, child, it is a bathhouse,” she replied “Have ye ne’er seen a bathhouse before? This is my domain. I am mistress here. It is my task to see that all of Donal Righ’s expensive slaves are washed and cosseted so that they may be shown to their best advantage.”

“At home we washed in the loch,” Regan replied.

“Ye will like this,” Erda promised. She turned to Morag. “Ye’ll wash too, lassie, but watch what I do for ’twill be yer task in the future to see to yer mistress’s bath. Slaves such as the lady Regan are sold into the eastern countries, and there bathing is an art.”

Abu had brought them from Donal Righ’s chamber to this square stone building, where he had left them in the care of the plump old lady now attending them. At her direction they removed their clothes, a trifle surprised to see Erda removing hers as well. They were shocked to discover that she had no hair upon her body.

She saw them exchange looks, and chuckled. “The Moors like their ladies, both young and old, as smooth as silk,” she told them. “The master’s mother was a Moorish lady. I served her as a girl. In practices conducive to cleanliness, Donal Righ prefers the eastern ways. He says they are healthier.”

“Why has
Righ
been added to his name?” Regan asked. “He is not a real king, is he?” The room in which they were now standing was filled with steam, and very hot. She had never been so warm in her entire life.

“He was the only child, alas, that my mistress ever bore her good lord. She called him the king of her heart when he was a babe and small lad. Eventually everyone began to call him Donal Righ.” Erda ladled some water from a bucket over a pit of steaming stones, and immediately a foggy vapor arose with a sizzle and a hiss.

“I am going to die in this heat,” Morag complained.

“Ye’ll get used to it, lassie,” Erda said with a chuckle.

“Why do we do this?” Regan asked her.

“The steam makes yer body sweat, aiding in the removal of dirt and poisons from yer skin, lady,” Erda explained. Once the girls were oozing sweat, she took up a silver scraping tool and drew it lightly down their bodies in a steady motion. “See,” she finally said, “the dirt is swept away. Now if ye will follow me, we will go to the bathing chamber itself.”

In the next room they found a square pool filled with scented water. Erda took them into a corner where a small fountain flowed. There, upon a shelf, were several alabaster jars. The old lady scooped a handful of soap from one and rubbed it briskly over Regan’s body. The soft soap lathered and gave off a fragrance of lavender. She next washed Regan’s hair while encouraging Morag to wash herself in the same manner. When both girls were soaped, she filled a basin with water from the fountain, pouring it over them until they were free of the scented cleaning substance.

“Now,” she told them, “yer ready to be denuded of all that unsightly hair upon yer pretty bodies.” Her hand sought another jar upon the shelf, and dipping into it, she smeared a pink paste over Regan’s legs and pubic area. “Go on, lassie,” she said to Morag, and held out the jar. “Though ye’ll ne’er be the beauty yer mistress is, yer a pretty girl, and will catch the eye of some guardsman, I’m certain.”

Morag giggled, and following the old lady’s instructions, smeared the pink paste over her own haired body parts.

After a few minutes Erda took a cloth and began removing the paste. As it disappeared, Regan’s fair skin beneath was revealed smooth and flawless. Erda nodded, satisfied. She resoaped and rinsed the girl; Morag followed her lead. When both girls had
been washed once again, she led them to the bathing pool and instructed them to enter it.

“Why?” Regan questioned her once more even as she stepped down into the warm, fragrant waters of the pool.

“Because, lady, it is pleasant and relaxing,” Erda explained. Then she turned away to see to her own ablutions.

“I could get used to this,” Morag admitted to Regan as they moved about the pool. “I nae knew such lovely things existed.”

“Aye,” Regan agreed with her friend. “ ’Tis verra pleasing indeed.”

Overhearing them, Erda chuckled as she entered the pool herself. “This is just the beginning, lassies,” she told them as she paddled about. “The world ye will enter is beyond yer imaginings.”

“How would ye know?” Regan said.

“Did I not say I was a servant to the master’s mother? Twice I went with her to her homeland. It is a city called Cordoba, in a place the Moors call al-Andalus. Never have I seen such a magnificent city! Nor such a wondrous place!”

“How can you know that we will go there?” Regan questioned.

Erda grinned, showing toothless gums. “I know everything that goes on in this household, and everything that is going to happen,” she boasted to them. “For over a year now my master has been looking for a particularly beautiful slave woman whom he plans to send to the ruler of Cordoba. Ye see, he is in the caliph’s debt.” She climbed slowly up the steps from the pool, shaking herself free of water.

“What is a caliph?” Regan demanded.

“The caliph is the tide of the ruler of Cordoba,” Erda explained to them. “Ye are, my beauty, the very one Donal Righ has waited to find. Ye’ll see Cordoba before the year is gone, mark my words. Come now, and let us attend to the rest of your grooming.”

She led the two young women from the bathing room into another chamber, which was furnished with marble benches. There she instructed Morag in the art of massage, showing her
the proper oils to use. She taught the girl how to carefully pare Regan’s finger- and toenails. Lastly they dried Regan’s long golden hair, combing just the tiniest bit of scented oil through it, and finally polishing it with a pure silk rag until it positively gleamed in the flickering lamps. While Morag had dried her own hair, Erda went to a chest, drawing forth fresh, clean garments for the two girls to wear. For Morag there was a soft, cotton chemise, a navy-blue undertunic, and a scarlet outertunic of fine linen. For Regan there was a silk chemise coupled with a natural-colored undertunic topped with an outertunic of pale blue satin embroidered in gold-thread windflowers.

Regan’s hand fingered the embroidery atop the silk. “I hae nae anything so fine,” she said in a soft voice.

“ ’Tis just the beginning, lassie,” Erda counseled her. “Yer a beautiful young girl. Once yer properly trained, ye’ll please the caliph well. He’ll surely fall in love with ye. If ye have his sons, yer fortune will be made. Of course, ye’ll have to watch out for the other women in his favor. They’ll be a fierce lot, each trying to retain the caliph’s attention, devotion, and favor. The harem is a cruel place. My mistress said it many times, and was grateful to be wed to my lord Fergus. She did not like the climate here, but she said it was worth it to escape the harem. Still, the harem is a grand place to be for a beautiful young thing such as yerself,” Erda continued. Then she led the two speechless girls back to Donal Righ’s chamber.

He sat at his supper, but seeing them, he smiled and beckoned them forward. “Ahhh,” he said, pleasure written all over his round face, “Erda has done well by ye, I can see. She’s a treasure, are ye not, old woman? Were she not, I should have found her a husband long ago. Some randy young sailor who’d keep her up all night, eh, eh?” His laughter boomed.

Erda cackled toothlessly. “Ye’ll ne’er get rid of me, master,” she said. “I love ye much too much.”

He grinned, pleased. She was a relic from his youth, but for his late mother’s sake he kept her. “Take the serving wench, what’s yer name, lass?” She told him and he nodded, saying, “Take Morag to the cook house and see she is fed, Erda. I’ll call ye both when I need ye. Sit down, Regan, and join me at
my supper. Pour yerself some wine, girl!” He passed her a platter of broiled rabbit.

Regan took a trencher of fresh bread, a joint from the rabbit, and a silver goblet of wine. She ate delicately, desperately trying to remember what little manners she had been taught. The wine, however, she could not help but quaff lustily. It was sweet and potent, and seemed to breathe new life into her veins.

“Cheese?” He offered her a wedge upon the end of his knife.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, taking it and biting into it, chewing more slowly now. As she finished she was startled to find Abu at her elbow. She hadn’t even noticed that he was in the room. He held out a basin of warm, perfumed water to her. She looked to Donal Righ.

“Wash yer hands in it,” he instructed her. “Ye don’t want to ruin that pretty tunic dress of yers, do ye? ’Tis a custom of the Moors.”

“ ’Tis a custom I like,” she answered him, rinsing her fingers free of the greasy rabbit and cheese crumbs.