Tide of Fortune (20 page)

Zohra picked up her bucket containing the soap, stone, and hair wash. Handing the wet towels to the waiting attendant, they walked out into the late afternoon.

As they crossed a wide street, Kerenza heard the sound of horses’ hooves. Grasping her arm, Zohra drew her back as a party of men came from the direction of the main city gate and turned on to another street. Though she saw them for only a few seconds, the image was imprinted on her brain.

Black-skinned guards in loose white trousers and red leather boots carried long muskets, presumably to protect the richly dressed young man at their head astride a grey horse whose embroidered and tasselled bridle and ornate leather saddle gleaming with gold proclaimed him someone of importance. Behind them, led by three muleteers, six mules trotted laden with baggage.

Kerenza turned to Zohra. ‘Who –?’ The question died on her lips. But Zohra guessed what she wanted to know.

‘Mulai Aruj.’

Kerenza repeated the name to herself as they hurried home. Maggot might know who he was. The young man was heading toward the castle. Might his arrival push the governor into action?

Chapter Seventeen

That night, Kerenza slept long and deep, not stirring even when the muezzin called the faithful to prayer at three in the morning. It was Dina who woke her, bringing in a jug of water.

She felt deliciously rested. Refreshed, she put on a clean chemise and her apple-green muslin – returned washed and ironed with the rest of her laundry. As she combed, coiled, and pinned up her hair, her stomach fluttered with pleasure at the prospect of seeing Nick. Was this wise? Wise or not, to prevent or deny her attraction to him was beyond her strength or will.

Outside on the terrace, she paused, filling her lungs as she looked down toward the sea over purple-shadowed alleys and whitewashed houses gilded by the morning sun.
Kestrel
rode at her anchor on water that glittered like diamonds. She shaded her eyes, searching for the cutter. Had it not yet left? Was he still aboard
Kestrel
? Or could she not see it because it was even at this moment pulling into the beach? He might even be on his way up through the streets. Anticipation sped her along the terrace, down the steps and across the court.

‘
Azoufl’ouen
.’ Zohra greeted her with a beaming smile and ushered her into the salon where a dish of apricots and dates, a bowl of yoghurt, and warm fresh bread were waiting. Kerenza ate hungrily and had almost finished when Zohra brought in a pot of coffee and set it down.

‘
Ateikum-saha
,’ Kerenza said with a tiny thrill of pride at her hostess’s visible pleasure.

Zohra asked a question, closing her eyes and resting her tilted head on her hand, clearly miming sleep.

Smiling, Kerenza nodded. ‘Oh yes, really well. Thank you.’

Murmuring her approval, Zohra bustled out, passing Maggot, who was on his way in.

‘So.’ He grinned. ‘You like
hammam
?’

‘Oh Maggot, it was wonderful. I’ve never felt so clean
.
Last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve had since we left Flushing.’

‘Good morning.’ Nick strode in.

‘Good morning.’ Kerenza’s heart gave its familiar leap. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ Without waiting for his reply, she filled one of the small cups and offered it to him. ‘Zohra took me to a
hammam
yesterday. It’s a bath house for women where –’

‘Indeed.’

Startled by his brusqueness, her smiled faltered. ‘Is something wrong?’ She caught her breath. ‘Has there been news –?’

Maggot set down his cup. ‘Excuse, please.’ He walked out, catching Zohra on the threshold and murmuring in her ear as he drew her with him.

‘No.’ Nick pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Except –’ He broke off, gazing at the floor as he jarred his booted heel against the rug. He looked up at her from beneath dark brows. ‘I don’t think you should be talking about such things to Maggot.’

‘But I only – He knew Zohra was taking me, and because I didn’t see him when we got back last evening –’

‘You didn’t?’ He was very still.

She shook her head. ‘No. Then this morning I woke late. He came in only a moment before you did, so when he asked if I had enjoyed it –’

‘And did you?’ His tone was softer, his posture more relaxed.

‘It was blissful. We were there for hours.’

Puzzlement drew his brows together. ‘Why so long?’

She hesitated, but his interest seemed genuine. ‘Well, because it wasn’t just a bath.’ She stopped, wary and confused. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Why is it wrong for me to talk about it to Maggot, even though it’s part of his culture, yet acceptable to discuss it with you?’ She was astonished to see a blush darken his face.

‘Because you’re – I’m –’ He swallowed. ‘I –’

His voice was so quiet, so muffled, she wasn’t sure if she had heard correctly. It had sounded like “miss you”. A pulse drummed in her ears as her thoughts whirled. But what if she was wrong? What if it was wishful thinking?

He shook his head abruptly. ‘How is your father this morning?’ Though still warm, his tone was more guarded.

‘S-still asleep.’

‘It’s perhaps as well.’ He made a brief formal bow. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’

‘Of course.’ Bewildered, she watched him stride out, radiating tension.

An hour later, she was sitting in the salon, reading, while upstairs Broad tended to her father. Zohra had invited her to go to the market once more, but she had declined. With the
cherqi
still blowing it was cooler in the house. Besides, she wanted a little solitude, and some time to think. But her thoughts just went round in circles, growing ever more tangled.

The outside door slammed and she looked up as swift footsteps crossed the court and entered the house. Nick strode in, followed by Maggot. The strain that had etched lines on their faces had gone, replaced by a mixture of relief and determination.

‘At last.’ Shrugging out of his jacket, Nick inserted a finger between his neckcloth and throat. Sweat beaded his forehead.

‘Good news?’ she ventured.

‘The best,’ Nick grinned. ‘The Governor will see your father this afternoon.’

Kerenza shut her book. ‘Thank goodness. Broad is with him now. I’m sure this will make all the difference.’

‘I hope so,’ Nick said with a touch of grimness. ‘Anyway, let’s hope we can settle the business and get on our way. This wind –’ He wiped his forehead on his shirt sleeve. ‘There’s something going on up at the palace. It seems the sultan’s son returned last evening.’

‘We saw him,’ Kerenza said. ‘We were on our way back from the hammam. It was only a brief glimpse. He had a party of bodyguards with him, and pack-mules. Why has he come?’

‘He live here,’ Maggot explained. ‘He like to hunt in hills. He is coming from visit to his father. The sultan is in Rabat and sent for him.’

‘Why should his return have caused tension?’ Kerenza asked.

Nick shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. But people are certainly moving faster, and everyone looks a bit nervous.’

‘I listen,’ Maggot said. ‘But I hear only that Mulai Aruj very angry. This is making governor very nervous. So now he want we go away quick.’

‘Please take me with you to the palace,’ Kerenza said. ‘While you and my father are with the governor, I must see my sister. She may not even know we are here.’

After a brief hesitation, Nick nodded. ‘I’d be surprised if she didn’t. One of the servants is sure to have said something. Still, seeing you will convince her she’ll soon be free and on her way home.’

Kerenza’s mouth grew dry as remembered instances of Dulcie’s spite sprang up, taunting her. She shuddered. Then reminded herself that was all in the past. She was a different person now. Perhaps Dulcie was too. For surely no one could live through what she had experienced during the past year and not be changed by it?

‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.

Rubbing her arms, she nodded again and tried to smile.

He stepped closer, his voice low. ‘You needn’t be worried or afraid. There’ll be no more bullying. You were alone then. You didn’t have anyone to look out for you, to protect or care for you. But that’s not true now.’

Startled, she looked up, grateful for the reminder. The threatening memories shrank and receded. ‘No, you’re right. My grandmother –’

‘Your grandmother likes to play the dragon. But she has a kind heart. She will always care about your happiness.’ His smile had a bitter edge. ‘She made it very clear to me that she would protect you from anyone she considered unworthy.’

Recalling her grandmother’s tart dismissal of what she had considered Nicholas Penrose’s presumption, Kerenza blushed hotly.

‘I respect her for it,’ he added before she could even begin to try and explain. ‘But she isn’t here now. I am. And while I breathe, no one will harm you. Do you understand?’ His eyes flashed like blades. ‘Do you?’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’ But she wasn’t sure she did. What exactly was he telling her? That he would shield her from Dulcie and her father? But who would protect her all-too-vulnerable heart from him? Perhaps his words held deeper meaning. But, fearful of being wrong, of laying herself open to embarrassment or, even worse, his pity, she dared not ask.

On his way back from the palace that morning, Nick had called at the consulate and asked Henry Corbett’s advice, determined to avoid any situation the governor might seize upon as an excuse for further delay.

The vice-consul had agreed to accompany them, and to bring along the consulate’s Jewish interpreter with whom the governor was familiar. Maggot’s presence would reassure William Vyvyan and Nick of the interpreter’s accuracy. Also, the larger the party the more impressive it would appear to the governor.

Next was the question of clothes for Maggot. Should he wear Tamazirght dress or his packet uniform? Maggot clung determinedly to his uniform, reminding them that in the governor’s eyes he was already set apart by his mixed ancestry and the fact that he sailed with a foreign
infidel.
At the same time, his uniform proclaimed his employment in the packet service and thus a connection, however tenuous, with the British government. The governor was too shrewd not to take that into account.

Then it was Kerenza’s turn. Because the
cherqi
made it too hot for her cloak, she wondered if it might be diplomatic to wear a kaftan. But Nick and Maggot both shook their heads.

‘From what I’ve seen,’ Nick said, ‘diplomacy is like balancing on a rope. You have to show respect for the rules of the country you’re in. But you also have to show your strength by remaining true to your own. I think it would be best if you make clear your family relationship with your father and sister by wearing an English gown.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, weary and apologetic. ‘Though I think it’s very unlikely you’ll be allowed into the negotiations.’

Kerenza shook her head. ‘I didn’t expect it.’

Nick continued. ‘The vice-consul is coming with us so the governor will recognise that this meeting isn’t just a private deal between him and your father. Mr Corbett wants to make it clear, without actually saying so, that there could be political repercussions if this business isn’t settled soon. The sultan would not want that.’

Henry Corbett arrived soon after two, accompanied by a thin, anxious-looking man with a grey beard and a frizz of grey hair surrounding the black skullcap he wore above his white gown. Introduced as Mordecai, he bowed nervously to each of them, but remained silent.

With its high neck and long sleeves, Kerenza’s apple-green muslin was eminently suitable. But to indicate her respect for local custom and sensibility, and to avoid provoking stares and tongue-clicking, she covered her hair with the white scarf and used one end to shield the lower half of her face.

They walked in three pairs through the narrow streets: Henry Corbett and Mordecai led the way; Nick followed with her father. As she walked at the back with Maggot, Kerenza compared similarities and differences between life here and back in Flushing.

In both places it was men who ordered society. But whereas in Flushing men and women mixed freely, here their worlds were totally separate. No woman ventured out unless hidden beneath headscarf, veil, and enveloping robe. But dressed thus she was totally safe. She could walk alone or with other women without fear. It was in Flushing that no woman who cared for her good name ventured unescorted on to the streets after dark. To do so was to risk insult, or worse, from drunken seamen.

In the
hammam
the women had been curious, but she had sensed no criticism of her presence or her person. The tone of their laughter and gossip had been teasing and affectionate. Those who left the group were not watched, nor were they remarked on behind their backs. New arrivals were welcomed, children taken onto knees with hugs and kisses.

Totally unselfconscious in their nakedness, they had washed each other’s hair. She had seen one young mother massaging an old woman’s arthritic hands while her toddler daughter, beaming placidly, was passed from hand to doting hand.

In England, women mixed openly with men; were courted and flattered at balls and parties. Though clubs existed where men gathered and from which their ladies were barred, society would have ceased to exist were it not for all the suppers, dances, routs, and similar events organised by women.

But entertaining and enjoyable though such events might be, their true purpose was far more serious, and one that made rivalry and mistrust inevitable. They served as a market where men might look for a wife, and parents sought husbands for their daughters or viewed potential brides for their sons.

Here, men and women did not appear to mix socially, even within families. Men ate together. Women ate with other women and children. How then, Kerenza wondered, did men and women meet a possible marriage partner?

It took almost 20 minutes to reach the palace. She followed the men toward the towering walls, climbing ever higher, up steps, through an entrance in the outer wall where they were met by guards who escorted them past storehouses and gardens. Kerenza smelled orange blossom, and glimpsed olive, fig, apricot, and peach trees. They passed beds of strawberries in flower, lettuce, artichokes, and melons.

As they approached a complex of arched, crenellated buildings her rapid heartbeat was due as much to apprehension as to the effects of the
cherqi
and the steep climb. Passing one building where steps led up to a tall, narrow, arched entrance flanked by two keyhole-shaped window openings, they approached the entrance to the palace. A single domed arch led through a hallway into an open courtyard surrounded by a marble colonnade.

They were led through into another large courtyard planted with orange trees, with a tinkling marble fountain that spilled bright curtains of water into a wide basin below. Crossing the courtyard past more marble columns into the cool shade beyond, they were halted by the guards. A veiled female servant appeared and motioned Kerenza to follow.

Maggot spoke to the woman in questioning tones. She hastened to reassure him.

‘Is all right,’ he said to Kerenza. ‘She take you to your sister. She is in
harem
 –’

‘The words simply means the women’s quarters,’ Henry Corbett explained as William, Nick, and Kerenza all turned in consternation.