Adora (12 page)

“Perhaps half an hour, my lady.”

“Then I will, with your permission, come up on deck for a few minutes, captain. My son and my servants are sleeping, but I confess that I am restless.”

“Of course, Highness. I will escort you myself.”

She closed the door quietly and, taking his arm, walked out onto the wet deck. The heavy air was still, and it appeared as if they sailed into an ink pot. Above and around them, the sky and the sea were a flat black. But then the captain pointed ahead, and in the strange half-light Theadora could see the water some distance ahead of them, roiling a foaming white

“The other side of the storm, Highness. There is no escaping it.”

“It is magnificent, Captain Hassan! Will we survive its savagery?”

“As Allah wills it, my lady,” replied the captain fatalistically, shrugging his shoulders.

They stood at the rail for some minutes. Then, sensing the captain’s impatience, Theadora said, “I will return to my quarters.” Inside again she bent over her son and kissed him gently. So deep was his slumber that he did not even stir. Iris lay on her back, snoring gently.
It is better this way
, thought Theadora.
I can maintain my own calm more easily if no one else frightens me
.

She could feel the ship beginning to pitch again as they approached the other side of the storm. Theadora sat quietly with her hands folded tightly and prayed silently for the safety of the vessel and all who sailed on it. Never, since leaving St. Catherine’s, had she immersed herself so deeply in prayer.

Suddenly, as the ship lurched sickeningly, there came a tremendous crash that rocked the ship to its foundations, and above the roar Theadora heard shouting. Then the little bowed window of the cabin blew in, spraying glass and water across the floor.

She leapt to her feet and stood helplessly for a moment as the rain and sea spray soaked her. Iris tumbled from her couch, half awake and screaming. “Allah preserve us! We’re sinking! We’re sinking!”

Theadora whirled about and yanked the slave woman to her feet, slapping her as hard as she could. “Be quiet, you foolish woman! We are not sinking! The storm has blown the window in and that is all.”

Over the roar of the wind and the rain and the sea they heard a frantic knocking at the cabin door. The princess yanked the door open and a sailor fell into the room. “Captain’s compliments, Your Highness,” he panted. “I’m to check for any damage. I’ll see that window is boarded over at once.”

“What was that tremendous crash?” demanded Theadora.

The sailor was back on his feet now, and he hesitated before answering. Then, shrugging, he said, “We lost the main
mast, my lady, but the storm is almost done with us now, and we’re near dawn.” Then he hurried out.

“Wake the slaves, Iris, and have them clean up this mess so the sailors can make their repairs quickly.” She turned to see Halil sitting straight up in his bed, his eyes wide. “Are we sinking, Mother?”

“No, my lamb,” she forced a laugh. “The last of the storm blew out the window, and gave us all a good fright. That is all.”

Within minutes the repairs had been made to the window. The remaining pieces of glass were carefully removed from the frame and replaced with boards and a curtain. The storm had subsided.

Venturing out onto the deck, Theadora was shocked at the damage. The main mast was indeed gone and so was most of another of the three masts. The sails, or what remained of them, were mere shreds fluttering in the breeze. It was obvious that they would have to rely on the galley slaves for movement. She wondered how those poor souls had survived the night and made a mental note to check for Christians among the rowers so she might buy their freedom. It had been her policy since becoming a mother to buy the freedom of whatever enslaved Christians she came upon. She sent them to freedom in Constantinople.

She turned when she heard the captain’s voice at her side. “Your people are all right, Highness?”

“Yes, thank you. We were warm and dry most of the night. How did the ship’s crew fare?”

“We lost four rowers, and two of my sailors were washed overboard. That damned overseer! Your pardon, Highness. The overseer was told to unchain the galley slaves when the storm hit. He disobeyed orders, and the four we lost were drowned at their benches. As soon as we clean up this mess, the overseer will be brought up for punishment. It will not be a pretty sight, my lady. I advise you to go below.”

“I will, captain, but I am so delighted to be alive to see this dawn that I would stay on deck a while longer.”

The captain grinned with delight. “Your highness will forgive me if I say you are a very brave young woman. I am very proud to sail with you.” Then, flushing at his own boldness, he turned and hurried away.

Theadora chuckled softly to herself. It had been wonderful being away from Bursa these last few months. She had enjoyed herself very much. The world was an absolutely wonderful place! It was not going to be pleasant returning to the harem and the constant company of the other two wives. It would not be easy returning to the endless boredom.

She gazed at the rainbow dawn that colored the soft grey-blue skies, and suddenly it occurred to her that the east was not where it ought to be! Stopping a sailor, she asked, “Have we been blown far off course?”

“Yes, Highness. We are way south of where we should be, but the captain will right it soon enough.”

She thanked him and returned to her cabin. Iris was making coffee on their spirit lamp, and the cook had sent a small basket of dried fruit, some warmed-over day-old bread, and a small hard cheese. Halil, up and dressed, grabbed a handful of dried fruit as he passed her on his way out. “The captain has offered to let me steer while they are cleaning up,” he said excitedly. Theadora let him go, and signaled to the boy’s body slave to follow him.

“I am too tired to eat,” she told Iris. “I spent most of the night praying. I am going to try to sleep now. Wake me in midafternoon.” She was half asleep before her head touched the pillow.

The sun woke her before Iris had the chance. Theadora lay on her back in the delicious world of half-sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking motion of the ship. She was alone, and a ray of sunlight came in through the hastily placed boards. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she heard a strange
sound above her. “Whistle. Slap! Groan. Whistle. Slap! Groan.” Suddenly, wide awake, Theadora realized that the punishment of the overseer must be taking place on deck, and her little son was there!

Theadora flew to the door and wrenched it open. She reached the deck and stopped, frozen, in the doorway. The unfortunate overseer had been bound to the one remaining mast. At this point, he was mercifully unconscious, his back a raw and bloody mass of welts. The whip still rose and fell, and to Theadora’s horror her son stood next to the captain, straight and proud, his young voice counting the strokes. “Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…”

The sultan’s youngest wife grew faint. She clutched at the doorframe, and drew several deep breaths. She had not wanted Halil to see this kind of thing. He was still a child. And yet, he did not seem at all distressed.

“Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five.”

Theadora found she could not move her legs. She gazed around the deck. The entire ship’s company was present, including a delegation from the galley slaves. Everyone stood silently watching.

“Forty-nine, fifty.”

The rhinoceros-hide whip was dropped to the deck, the overseer cut down, and salt rubbed into his wounds. This elicited a faint groan, and Theadora was amazed that the man was alive—let alone that he had the strength to groan. The onlookers began to return to their tasks, and Theadora managed to find her voice.

“Captain, please attend me at once!” She turned and walked into her cabin for she would not embarrass him before his men.

“Madame?”

She rounded angrily on him. “How could you allow a child to observe such brutality, let alone participate in it? The prince is only seven years old!”

“Please, Highness, hear me out. Perhaps you did not know, but this ship, which is named
The Prince Halil, belongs
to your son. A gift from his father. We on board all serve the child. I wanted to send him below before the punishment began, but Prince Halil said that as owner of the vessel it was his duty to mete out justice. The overseer served him, and the slaves who were drowned were his. That dragon who guards you approved, and would not wake you. Highness, though the prince is only seven, your son is all Ottoman. By law he is my lord. I could not refuse him.”

“Why did you not inform me that the ship was my son’s?”

“Madame,” exclaimed the astounded captain, “as the child knew, I assumed you also knew. I only just realized you did not.”

Theadora shook her head helplessly, but before she could say anything further there came a cry from the deck: “Pirates!”

Captain Hassan went white and threw himself through the cabin door, almost knocking down Iris who was just returning. The slavewoman was wide-eyed. “Mistress! Pirates! We cannot escape them! Allah have mercy!”

“Quick!” commanded Theadora. “Fetch my richest robes! The gold brocade will do. My finest jewels! Baba!” She called to a black slave entering the cabin. “Hurry! Get the prince, and garb him likewise!”

Several minutes later Theadora came on deck just in time to see the pirate ship draw alongside the disabled royal Ottoman vessel. From its rigging hung some of the most evil-looking men Theadora had ever seen. God help us, she thought. But she stood still, proudly.

The sultan’s young wife was a regal sight with the heavy gold brocade caftan, a magnificent necklace of rough-cut rubies, and matching dangle earrings of red gold and rubies. She wore several rings: a ruby, a turquoise, and a pink diamond on her left hand; a blue diamond and a sapphire on her right hand. Over her dark hair was a long sheer silver-and-
gold-striped gauze veil. A smaller veil was drawn across her face.

Prince Halil was equally magnificent in striped pants of white silk and silver brocade, a long, open matching coat with a white silk shirt. He wore a little cloth-of-silver turban with a peacock feather sprouting from a large tiger’s eye. He stood next to his mother, his hand upon the gold scimitar given him by his brother, Murad. The royal Ottoman couple were protectively surrounded by their slaves, the woman Iris, and a half a dozen prime, young black fighting eunuchs.

Because of his two royal passengers and also because of the pitiful state of the ship, Captain Hassan surrendered immediately to the obvious disappointment of the pirate crew who were spoiling for a fight. The pirate captain stood out easily among his men. He was a tall blond giant with a short, dark gold beard. He wore white pantaloons sashed in black silk. His bare chest was covered with a mat of tight gold curls. He was sun-bronzed, very muscular, and carried a beautiful gold scimitar in his hand. His feet were shod in knee-length boots of softest leather, with gold designs stamped on them.

At his order, Captain Hassan and his three officers were lined up and forced to their knees. At a nod from their captain, four pirates stepped forward, quickly strangled their unfortunate prisoners, and then threw the bodies overboard.

The ship was now deathly quiet. The blond giant turned slowly and looked over the assembled crew of
The Prince Halil
. “I am Alexander the Great,” his deep voice boomed. “I sail out of Phocaea. I offer you a fair choice. Join me, or die as your captain and his officers died.”

“We join you!” the Ottoman sailors shouted with one voice.

Alexander the Great now turned to Theadora and her son. Instantly the black eunuchs closed ranks and assumed a defensive position about the prince and his mother. “No!” she commanded them. They stepped aside, allowing the pirate
captain a clear passage to her. He approached her and, for a moment he and Theadora stood silently, gauging one another. He had, she noted, eyes the color of a fine aquamarine—a clear blue-green.

Reaching out, he fingered the ruby necklace. Then he ripped it from her neck. All the while his blue eyes never left her violet eyes. Swiftly he tore the veil from her face, but she did not flinch. He sighed. Flinging the ruby necklace to the deck, he said, “One look at your beautiful face, my exquisite one, has rendered the jewels worthless. Is the rest of you as incomparably fair?” His hand went to the high neck of her brocade robe, and then it was she who spoke.

“I am Princess Theadora of Bursa, wife to Sultan Orkhan, sister to the emperor and empress of Byzantium. The child is the sultan’s and my son, Prince Halil. Unharmed, we should bring you a great fortune. But if you continue to make extravagant gestures—” She glanced first toward the necklace on the deck, and then down to his hand, which still held her gown, “you could easily end your days a poor man.”

His eyes swept admiringly over her and it seemed he was weighing her words. Then he laughed. “What a pity I value gold so highly, beauty. I should have enjoyed teaching you how to be a real woman.” He laughed again as the color flooded her face. “I must transfer you to my ship,” he continued, “but you and your party will be safe, my lady. We will be in Phocaea by nightfall, and then I will house you in my palace until your ransom is paid.” His big hand then moved from her neckline to cup her chin. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Keep yourself veiled, madame, or I may regret my practical nature. I already feel myself growing reckless.”

He turned abruptly away from her and began calling out orders.
The Prince Halil
was to be sailed into Phocaea by a skeleton crew where it would be repaired and join the pirate navy. Its crew and galley slaves would be dispersed among other ships once they arrived in Phocaea. Theadora and her party were helped aboard the pirate vessel and taken to the
captain’s cabin, where they would remain until they reached their destination that night. Still exhausted from the previous night, Theadora made herself comfortable on the captain’s bed with Halil for company. Iris guarded the door while the princess and her son slept.

In the very late afternoon they reached the pirate city of Phocaea, and Alexander sent for a barge to transport his captives to his palace. It was located on the sea some two miles from the city. Sitting amid the velvet and silk cushions of the luxurious vessel with her captor Theadora learned that he was the younger son of a Greek nobleman and therefore forced to make his own way in life. Since his youth he had loved the sea and had turned to it for what was proving a most rewarding living.