A Love for All Time (36 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: A Love for All Time
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She wept softly for some time, and her eyes burned with the salt from her tears. If this was a nightmare, and she prayed that it was, then why couldn’t she awaken? She pinched herself cruelly, but nothing changed. She still lay naked beneath a soft coverlet on a strange bed in a strange place, and she suddenly felt empty, as hollow as a drum with the loss of her child. There at least, she thought, God had been merciful. She would not have wanted her baby born into slavery.
The door to the cabin opened, and she could see in the light from the passageway the little doctor entering. He smiled and nodded at her, and handed her the cup again. Then into his pouch his fingers dipped, and removing another of the gilded pills he once again pushed it between her lips. Why not, she thought wearily, and dutifully swallowed the medication which quickly tumbled her back into sleep. The next time she awoke it was day. This time her memory did not fail her.
For a few brief moments she considered slipping from the cabin, and throwing herself over the ship’s rail to drown, but she quickly decided that she wanted to live and return home to her beloved England. She knew what she contemplated would be considered impossible, but if she gave up all hope she would die of despair. Surely whoever bought her could be tempted by a fat ransom even if Rashid al Mansur could not. She would offer enough gold to buy a dozen beautiful women, and certainly a normal man could be tempted by that. That was exactly what she would do, and having decided it Aidan realized she was hungry.
Very hungry.
How did one go about getting food on this ship? She could hardly go to the door of the cabin, and call. Her state of undress would provoke a riot. She would have to wait for them to come to her. Wrapping the coverlet about her she stood up, and just as quickly sat down again. She had been immediately overcome by a spell of dizziness. She tried again, and this time rising she stood there for a moment until the giddiness had passed. Then she moved slowly across the room toward a table that held a decanter, and several goblets. She was very thirsty, and still felt pain. She stumbled as the door opened, and Rashid al Mansur entered the cabin.
Quickly he moved across the room, and put a steadying arm about her. “Easy, copper-haired woman. You are weak.”
“I am also thirsty,” she said.
He helped her back to his bed. “I will fetch you a drink. How are you feeling today?”
“I am yet in pain, but it is better,” she answered him honestly.
“Good! I knew you were strong. Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous!”
He chuckled. “I will have Sa’id bring you something. I am going to give you some company today. In the little cabin next to this where you were your first night there are three young English girls who are also going to Algiers to be sold. You will keep each other amused.”
He spoke, Aidan thought, as if they were on a pleasure cruise. He fetched her a goblet of watered wine as he had promised, and then ignoring her he went about the business of washing himself, and changing his clothing for clean garments. Finally without another word he left her to herself. Shortly after his departure Sa’id appeared with a tray of food for her. There was a steaming bowl of a cereal-like mixture that had chunks of lamb and vegetables in it; a soft flat bread which she assumed was to aid her to eat what was in the bowl since she was given no utensils; and a smaller blue-and-white bowl with fresh orange sections in it.
Aidan took the tray, and ate every morsel upon it. While she did, the slave, Sa’id, sat patiently at her feet, and when she had finished he fetched her a soft cloth and a basin of fragrant water to wash the grease from her hands and face. Since she could not speak his language, she smiled and nodded her thanks to the black man who seemed gratified that she had noticed. With a blinding grin he went to the door of the little cabin adjoining Rashid al Mansur’s quarters, and opened it. Then taking the tray up he left her.
Aidan stood up, and this time there was no dizziness at all. Walking across the cabin she peered into the next room. There in a corner huddled three young girls. Aidan’s heart went out to them immediately. “I won’t hurt ye,” she said. “I’m in the same position as ye are. Come, and share my day with me.”
“Who are ye, my lady?” asked the eldest of the girls.
“My name is Aidan St. Michael. I am Lady Bliss.”
“Coo!” said one of the two smaller girls. “Laidy no less! And does ye know Bessie Tudor herself?”
Aidan smiled at the London accent of the child, as well as her disbelief. In her world the lords and ladies of the court were safe from the kind of harm that could happen to an ordinary mortal. “Indeed I do know her majesty,” she said nonetheless. “In fact I was even one of the queen’s maids of honor.”
“Ye never was!” said the child disbelievingly.
Aidan laughed. “Yes, I was,” she said, “and yet here I am in just as difficult a position as ye are. Even worse for I don’t have any clothing!”
The older girl arose, and came toward Aidan. “My name is Margaret Browne,” she said. “I come from Kent. My stepmother sent me to London to be apprenticed to a dressmaker, but instead I was sold into a brothel by her brother. The brothel keeper sold me to this ship’s captain. Do ye know what is to happen to us, my lady? Where are we going?” She was a pretty girl with a sweet face, long pale gold hair like thistledown, and eyes of deep blue.
“We are going to Algiers. The ship’s captain, Rashid al Mansur, says we are to be sold into slavery.”
“I should sooner be dead!” cried Margaret Browne.
“How old are you?” Aidan asked the girl.
“I am thirteen,” came the reply.
“Are you a virgin? Answer me honestly, lass!”
“Yes, my lady. I was only in the brothel keeper’s charge a few hours before the captain bought me. I think she was expecting him for I neither was abused nor badly treated.”
“Who are the little girls?” Aidan said.
“We can speak for ourselves,” said the elder of the sisters as they came from their corner. Reassured by Margaret Browne’s contact with Aidan, they now felt bolder. “I am Rosamund, and this is my little sister, Pipere. If we had another name we don’t remember it.”
“How old are you?” asked Aidan.
“I’m eleven, her’s ten,” came the answer.
“Tell me how ye both ended up on this ship,” Aidan queried them.
“Our mum died, and the landlord put her body in the garbage heap cuz we didn’t have no money to pay the gravediggers. Then he took what little we had, even the bedding, for back rent, he says the barstid! We was out in the street cuz he wouldn’t let us back into the house, and we was yelling back an forth when along come this fellow down the street, and he stops, and looks at Pipere and me, and then he says to the landlord, ‘How much will ye take for these two?’ and the landlord gets this gleam in his eye, and says, ‘They’re both virgins, as pure as the driven snow, me lord. Young, and in prime condition they’ve got to be worth at least five pieces of gold.’ Well the captain laughs, and he says, ‘I’ll give ye three, and a silver penny to see their mother is buried properly,’ so here we are.”
Aidan looked at the two little sisters. They were both extremely pretty, and looked enough alike to be taken for twins. They had corn-colored blond hair and sky-blue eyes. “Ye heard what I told Margaret?” said Aidan. “We are to be sold into slavery. We shall all undoubtedly end up in harems.”
Margaret Browne began to weep bitterly. “Never, never,” she sobbed. “I should sooner be dead than held in carnal bondage by an infidel!”
“Wot’s the matter wiv her?” demanded Rosamund. “Is her crazy or somfin? Listen, girl, all women end up under a man. If we was bought by a rich man we could spend the rest of our lives at ease! Wot’s wrong wiv that I’d likes to know? Our ma was a whore, and her always wanted better for Pipere and me. Why does ye think we still got our cherries? She always said, ‘I’ll not let ye two go cheap, Rosy. I’ll find ye a good man to takes care of ye, and ye’ll not have to open yer legs to every Tom, Dick, and Harry up from the country for a good time!’ Our ma was a good woman, her was,” finished Rosamund with a sentimental sniff.
Margaret Browne looked horrified at Rosamund’s words, but Aidan rather admired the little Londoner. She was a tiny tough sparrow of a survivor. With luck she would prosper. The Kentish girl put her face in her hands and began to weep again. Rosamund looked so totally out of patience with her that Aidan almost laughed.
“What does Pipere say to all of this?” she asked Rosamund.
“Her does what I say, right, Pipere?”
“Right, Rosy,” came the perky reply from the littlest girl.
“The captain says that ye may join me in this cabin,” Aidan said, and she led them into Rashid al Mansur’s quarters.
“Coo-ee,” said Rosamund looking admiringly about the large and beautifully furnished cabin with its fine window seat beneath mullioned windows in the stern of the vessel. “Are ye the captain’s doxy for this voyage, laidy?”
“Nay,” said Aidan, “I most certainly am not!”
“Then how come ye gets such fancy treatment? No one gives anyfing for nuffin in this world.”
“I miscarried my baby last night,” said Aidan softly, “and the captain being a good businessman did not wish me uncomfortable for he believes I will bring him a great deal of money in Algiers.”
“Why? Ye ain’t no beauty. Ye ain’t ugly, but ye ain’t no beauty,” said Rosamund bluntly.
“Women with fair skin, light eyes, and light hair are highly prized in Barbary, Rosamund. Women, however, with fair skin, light eyes, and red hair are the rarest creatures of all, and I am told they bring a fortune. Hence my value.”
“How can ye speak so calmly about it?” said Margaret Browne in a voice that Aidan could hear was laced with near-hysteria.
Aidan sat Margaret down, and put an arm about her. “I have been kidnapped from my husband,” she said. “I have lost my first child because of it. I am as frightened as ye are, but if I give into those feelings I will lose control of myself, and then others can control me totally. That I will not do! I am alive, and as long as it is God’s will that I live, then there is hope. Do ye understand me, Meg, for I suspect that is what ye were called.”
“My father called me Meg,” said the Kentish girl.
“Do ye understand what I have said to ye, Meg?”
“Aye,” said the girl.
“And ye will no longer be afraid?”
“I will try, my lady.”
“Stupid cow,” grumbled Rosamund. “Don’t she know how much worse it could be?”
“Aye, Rosy,” said Pipere. “It could be worse.”
Aidan didn’t know how it could be much worse, but the two little Londoners kept her cheered during the voyage to Algiers which was made in just under two weeks. She in turn kept up the spirits of the Kentish girl who now became her shadow. She learned that Meg had been the cosseted only child of a fairly prosperous farmer. Poor child, Aidan thought. At least I learned a little about the world during my stay at court. This poor girl is totally and completely innocent.
They reached their destination late one afternoon as the sun dappled the gleaming white walls surrounding the city, and its buildings which seemed to march straight up the hillsides. It was a very impressive sight as approached from the sea, the harbor, and the long mole built by the Spanish, framed by the city itself. In contrast to its outer beauty, however, was the stench of the city which was carried on a warm wind that blew across the city from the desert beyond.
“It is too late to parade you four to the jenina,” said Rashid al Mansur. “I will notify the dey of our arrival, and then in the morning we will go. I will have fresh water brought aboard so that you may wash yourselves and your hair. I want you to show to your best advantage.”
“What is the jenina?” asked Aidan.
“A literal translation would be ‘the king’s house,’ ” said Rashid al Mansur. “It is where the dey comes to assess his legal rights over a percentage of the captives. Usually his servants do it, but in the case of such rare merchandise as yourselves I suspect he will come himself.”
“The dey is the ruler of Algiers?” said Aidan.
“The dey is appointed by the sultan to govern Algiers in his name,” was the answer.
Rashid al Mansur was gone but a short time when Sa’id arrived to herd them all into the little cabin next to the captain’s. Leaving he closed the door behind him, and then they could hear a great deal of trekking back and forth in the room next to them. Finally after some minutes Sa’id opened the door between the two cabins, and waved them back into the larger room. There four steaming tubs awaited them. Aidan gave a cry of delight for she had not been able to bathe properly since they had sailed from England. Sa’id signaled them to enter the tubs, and they shooed him from the room laughing.
Joyously the four females washed themselves, enjoying every minute of the treat for the water was fragrant with sweet, flower-scented oils that pampered their skins. There was even a bar of soap that lathered lavishly, and which they passed around amongst each other. They washed their hair first, and then their bodies. Aidan had been cleaner than her three companions for the physician had seen to it lest she court an infection. She had bled for several days following her miscarriage, and then the flow had stopped as it had come. Rashid al Mansur had told her that Achmet worried for she should have flowed longer, but that he thought her emotional state might have something to do with it.
“He says that the mind can do powerful things,” said the kapitan reis with a shrug.
They had finished bathing, and stepping from their tubs looked for something to dry themselves with, and for their chemises; in Aidan’s case, her coverlet; but these things had disappeared. They stood very uncomfortable in their nudity, looking horrified at one another as the door to the cabin began to open. They turned to flee to the smaller room, but found its door barred to them now. Huddling together they looked distinctly uncomfortable as Rashid al Mansur, and Achmet the physician came into the room.

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