The Love Slave (56 page)

When finally her breathing had steadied and her heart had ceased pounding, Zaynab asked the Nasi, “You are content
to have Nilak come to you, my lord?” She smiled down into his face.

“She may certainly come,” he said enthusiastically, and reaching out, drew the girl back into his embrace, kissing her ripe lips. “You have given me pleasure tonight, Nilak. I will welcome your coming after the lady Zaynab has departed.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Nilak replied sweetly. Then rising from the bed, she left the chamber.

“Will she be back?” he asked Zaynab. “She is very lovely, and totally different from you. I know I told you no, but I thank you for finding her for me. We will have many enjoyable hours together, I am certain.”

“She will not return tonight, my lord,” Zaynab said. “I just wanted you to meet her while I was with you so you would not feel shy of a new woman. You did very well, my lord. I have taught you well.”

The following morning, when Zaynab awoke, Hasdai was gone, but on the pillow where his head had lain was a perfect white gardenia. Zaynab smiled softly. It was really a shame that Hasdai would not marry. He was a very romantic man. She hoped that the young courtesan, Nilak, would appreciate the Nasi’s gentler qualities; but perhaps Hasdai would not be as vulnerable with Nilak as he had been with her.

Zaynab did not see Hasdai again until her departure two days later. She would travel down the Guadalquivir to its mouth, then go overland to Jabal-Taraq, to be ferried across to Ifriqiya, where she would be met by the delegation from Malina and escorted to her new home. Her many trunks containing her dowry were loaded aboard a royal vessel called
The Abd-al Rahman
. Naja, Aida, and Rabi were almost sick with their excitement when the Nasi arrived with an honor guard to accompany her to the ship. He came in his official capacity, dressed in splendid robes of cloth-of-gold brocade embroidered with pearls and diamonds. Upon his head was a matching turban.

“We don’t want to miss the tide, my lady,” he said formally, and helped her into her litter.

At the docks he shepherded her aboard, taking her to her spacious cabin. “The caliph chose your route because of the late autumn. He feared storms. You will not sail from Jabal-Taraq unless the weather is fair, Zaynab. We both want you to reach your destination safely.”

“Has there been any word from Karim?” she asked him anxiously.

He shook his head, and then told her, “The Prince of Malina has no idea who the bride is that the caliph is sending him, Zaynab. It was a small jest upon our parts, which I hope you will forgive. I am certain, knowing Karim, that he is angry and defiant regarding the caliph’s order that he take this bride being sent to him. Imagine his surprise and delight when he learns his bride is the only woman he has ever loved.” The Nasi took her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. “May the God who watches over us all bless your journey and your new life, Zaynab. I will never forget you, my dear.” Then stepping back a pace from her, Hasdai ibn Shaprut bowed low before departing the vessel.

Zaynab felt tears pricking behind her eyelids as she watched him go. He had been her lover; her good friend. She would miss him. His sympathetic insight was entirely responsible for this journey she was now embarking upon, which would take her back to the one man she had always loved. “
I will never forget you, Hasdai
,” Zaynab said softly after him. Then she heard the shouts upon the deck as the ropes binding the ship to its mooring were loosened, allowing the vessel to float free. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with excitement She was going home. Home to Malina.
Home to Karim!

Cha
p
ter 20

“A
bride?
The caliph is sending me a bride?” Karim ibn Habib, Prince of Malina, looked to his vizier Alaeddin ben Omar for corroboration.

“Yes, my lord,” he said. “The caliph’s letter states that he feels you should be married, and that you should start a family immediately, being the last male of the direct line of ibn Malik. The caliph says your family’s loyalty to his family over the centuries is deserving of reward. So he has decided to send you a bride of his choosing. She will be arriving within the month, my lord.”

“I distinctly remember telling Hasdai ibn Shaprut that I would not marry again,” Karim said, his irritation beginning to grow as he sensed Hasdai’s hand in all of this. “I also recall saying that I would appoint my sister’s son as my heir. Why did he not tell the caliph that, Alaeddin?”

“Perhaps, my lord, he did,” the vizier replied. He wasn’t certain whether or not he should mention that although the caliph had signed this missive, it had been sealed with Hasdai ibn Shaprut’s seal, not that of Abd-al Rahman. Deciding discretion was the better route, he said nothing to his old friend.

“I do not want a bride, Alaeddin,” the prince said. “My experience with Hatiba was tragic. Like some animal, I got a child on her even though I did not care for her. I cannot do that again, Alaeddin. I will not!” There was a very determined look in his blue eyes.

“You cannot offend the caliph,” the vizier counseled. “He is your overlord, Karim.” Alaeddin ben Omar dropped formality for expediency’s sake. He needed to appeal to his friend’s
common sense. Karim was fully capable of being foolishly stubborn. “Wait at least until you have met the girl. I know that no woman can ever replace Zaynab in your heart, old friend, but perhaps this bride will make her own place, if you will but let her.”

“I must accept this woman only because she comes from the caliph,” Karim replied. “I do not, however, have to bed with her.”

“Are you mad?” the vizier cried. “This letter specifically states that your bride has the ear and the personal respect of Abd-al Rahman himself! If you mistreat her, she will complain to the caliph.”

“She cannot complain to him if I do not let her,” Karim said ruthlessly. “She will live in the harem and its gardens, but never be allowed out of them. There is nothing unusual in that. The servants will not dare to intrigue with her, for fear of my wrath, Alaeddin. She will want for nothing.”

“You
are
mad,” his friend answered.

“No, I am not! I am the Prince of Malina I will not be told that I must take a wife and then breed her like some stallion being put to a mare. I cannot do it, Alaeddin. How can you even consider such a thing? You are fortunate that you have your beloved Oma. You may eventually have a little harem of pretties, but you will not take another wife, old friend, will you? Why must I? Because I am the prince here? Because my family has served the Umayyads faithfully for over two hundred years? Those reasons are not good enough for me. I will not do it!” His voice was strong, his handsome face implacable. “I will marry the woman because I must, but that is all I will do.”

Later, in the security of his own home, the vizier fretted to his wife about the situation. “He is obstinate, Oma. Allah pity this poor woman the caliph is sending to be Karim’s wife.”

“You say the letter was sealed with the physician’s seal, and not the caliph’s,” Oma said thoughtfully. What motive had the caliph’s adviser in all of this? “Hasdai ibn Shaprut knew that
Karim did not want another wife. Yet he has obviously encouraged the caliph to send him one. Why? I wonder. Who is this woman, and for what purpose is she being sent here? This matter may not be as simple as it seems, Alaeddin.”

Oma’s words raised more questions in the vizier’s mind than they answered. Was there some hidden agenda on the part of the caliph and his most trusted adviser? And if so, what was it? Was it possible that Hasdai ibn Shaprut did not think Karim capable of ruling, that this bride was in actuality a spy of Abd-al Rahman? The vizier, however, kept these thoughts to himself. There was no cause for irrational suspicions yet. There was no need to arouse the prince’s ire any more than it was already aroused. A good vizier assembled all the facts, found the truth, and then presented it to his master.

Word was brought to Alcazaba Malina that the bride was within two days of Jabal-Taraq.

“Will you meet her in Tanja?” Alaeddin ben Omar asked Karim.

“No,” Karim said with a thin smile. “I am going hunting in the hills for a few days. I shall stay at Escape.”

“Then do you want me to go to Tanja to greet her in your name, and escort her back to Alcazaba Malina?” the vizier asked.

“Yes,” Karim said. “Do we have all the papers pertaining to this marriage in hand?” And when his companion nodded in the affirmative, the prince said, “Then let us take them to the imam now, and have him perform the ceremony. Since the woman is coming, she is obviously willing. You will witness the event. Then, when my bride arrives, she will legally be my wife. Shut her up in the harem. When I return, I will visit her myself and explain to her the price she must pay for becoming the wife of Malina’s prince.”

“Karim, I beg you to be kind to this maiden,” his friend said. “Remember, she is only a female. She has had no real say in this matter. She may be some poor girl recently brought to the caliph’s harem, or mayhap the daughter of an official seeking favor with Abd-al Rahman. She must do as she is told and
agree to be your wife because she has no other choice. Do not be cruel to her because of it.”

“I will not be cruel, Alaeddin, but do you not understand? It is the same thing all over again. A woman I do not really want is being forced into marriage with me. How can I love any woman when Zaynab fills my whole heart, my very soul? Her memory sears me with such pain that I cannot even describe it properly to you.
I love her
. I will always love her. There can be no other woman for me ever. Do you not understand it, my old friend? You wanted none but Oma.”

Alaeddin ben Omar sighed deeply. “That is true, Karim, but had Oma not come back into my life when she did, I should have found another woman to make my wife. I might not have loved her as I do my Oma, but I have an obligation to my father and my ancestors to create a new generation.

“We are friends of long standing, so I dare to speak my mind to you, Karim al Malina. You are the last of your line. It is your duty to sire sons so that the line of your great ancestor, ibn Malik, not die out. Life has mocked you, ’tis true, in taking the one woman you love from you. But what of Zaynab? Does she not suffer as well? Still, she did her duty as well as any woman when she went to the caliph, and then to Hasdai ibn Shaprut.

“Did Abd-al Rahman love her as you did? Does Hasdai ibn Shaprut love her as you did? Zaynab, however, does not cry out like a small child denied a favorite plaything. She does what she must, what she knows she has to do, and so, my lord of Malina, should you,” the vizier said angrily. “It is past time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, and started to behave as your father would have wanted you to; as a Prince of Malina should behave!”

Karim stared at his old friend, startled by the severity of his words and realizing that Alaeddin ben Omar was correct in all he said. “It is simply too soon,” he said helplessly. “I am not ready for another wife.”

The vizier nodded. “I will greet the bride, my lord, while you go to Escape and make peace with yourself,” he told him. “Perhaps the caliph’s timing is not the best, but that is not the fault of your bride, now is it, my lord? She comes to you filled
with hope, and with the same joyous expectations as any bride. If she is very young, she may also be a little frightened. After all she is being married to a virtual stranger, and sent far from her home. With your permission, I will have Oma visit her in the harem before you return.”

“Yes,” Karim said, “that would be kind.”

The two men went with the qadi that evening to the head imam of Malina. The wedding contracts were presented to him, and having read them carefully, the imam then performed the marriage ceremony. The bride was a wife before she even set foot upon the shores of Ifriqiya, though she did not know it. The following day Karim, in the company of half a dozen of his personal guard, rode into the hills to hunt, while his vizier rode to the city of Tanja to greet the royal wedding party. The trip, a three-day one by caravan, took only a day and a half, as Alaeddin ben Omar and his Saqalibah rode swiftly, without encumbrance.

The caliph’s governor in Tanja greeted them. He had been informed of the pending arrival of the prince’s bride, who would be embarking from Jabal-Taraq the following morning, weather permitting.

The next day dawned bright and sunny, unusual for late autumn. The sea outside the city’s bay was smooth and flawless. A watchman from atop Tanja’s highest point, the minaret of the main mosque, called out just before noon prayers that the convoy was in sight. The vizier, in the company of the governor, hurried down to the harbor to await the bride.

“You will stay another night, of course,” the governor said to Alaeddin ben Omar. “The lady will undoubtedly be exhausted by her crossing and wish to rest. Do you know who she is, my lord?”

The vizier shook his head. “It is strange,” he told the governor, “but the caliph’s letter mentioned everything but her name and family. Nor was it present in the marriage contracts.”