Unconquered (39 page)

“I will not love Lucas, Sasha. I will not be mated like some pedigreed animal. I will not produce children for a slave market. I hate slavery! I would rather be dead!”

“Do not be foolish, Mirushka. You have no choice in this matter. You must do as you’re told. We all must.”

“You cannot make me, Sasha,” she said grimly.

“Yes, Mirushka, we can. If you do not cooperate you will be forced. Come now, lovely one, do not make it painful. Lucas is not some ravening beast. He will do his duty as he knows the master expects him to do, but he would sooner be kind to you, I know.”

“Where are we?” she asked, pretending only to want a change of subject.

“South of Kiev,” he said, unaware that he should not tell her. “We will be in Odessa late this afternoon, and at the farm tonight. It is located about twenty miles from Odessa.”

Miranda’s mind quickly pictured the map of Russia. Thank
God she had paid attention to those dull geography lessons their governess had forced on them. “Good heavens!” she gasped. “How long have we been traveling?”

“Almost six days.”

“Six days! That’s impossible!”

“Not really. We have traveled around the clock. Are you hungry, Mirushka? We will be stopping to change horses again soon. Perhaps some soup, a bit of chicken, and fruit?”

She nodded. Then, huddling in a corner of the coach, she lapsed into silence. Odessa was on the Black Sea. The Ottoman Empire was nearby, and the Turks were allies of the English. She would need time to get her bearings. Could she hold off Sasha and this Lucas until she had formulated a plan? She must not panic. Above all, she must not panic.

The coach rambled on across the countryside. She wondered how far it was to the Turkish border and then how far to Constantinople from there. If Prince Cherkessky’s farm was on the sea perhaps she could steal a boat. It would probably be safer to flee by water. No farmhouses, dogs, or people to question her. If she hid her hair—no, she would have to cut it short, probably dye it too, but if she did and then stuffed it beneath a cap and dressed like a boy … She glanced ruefully at her breasts, no longer petite, but round and full since little Tom’s birth. Well, she would need a tight band to flatten them. In a small boat, and from a distance, who would know she was a woman?

A compass! She would need a compass. Did they have such things in this part of the world? It would hardly do to escape in the wrong direction. How Jared would tease her about that!
Jared
. She felt the tears spill from her eyes. Would he believe she was dead? Dear heaven, what other choice would he have in the face of such overwhelming evidence? I love you, Jared, her mind repeated over and over again. I love you! I love you!

Sasha left her to her feelings. He did not particularly care for women, never having received kindness from one. His unmarried mother had been chief maid to Alexei Vladimirnovich’s mother, and although no one had ever told him, he knew that his father had been the late Prince Vladimir Cherkessky himself. He had been born seven months after his master’s youngest sister. Sasha had been lucky. He might have been dumped onto one of the Cherkessky estates to be raised an uneducated serf,
but Princess Alexandra had found him a pretty baby, and wanted to honor her favorite servant. He had been placed in the family nursery, and at the breast of the family wet nurse. When he was five, and Alexei Vladimirnovich eight, he had joined the boy who was to be his master in the family schoolroom. He was actually there as the prince’s whipping boy. If Alexei Vladimirnovich was careless in his lessons, it was little Sasha who received the beating, for it was unthinkable that the prince’s person be touched by a humble governess or tutor.

During his first six months in the schoolroom there was rarely a day he wasn’t whipped thoroughly by the governess, an embittered French émigrée noblewoman who had just escaped the Revolution in her native land. Impoverished, she was forced to earn her living. Sasha represented to her the peasants of her own country who had dared to rebel so violently against their masters, against the natural order of things. She vented her fury on the helpless child. Unfortunately for Sasha, the prince was a lazy student.

The younger boy, however, had a phenomenal memory, and quickly caught up with the older one. Soon, to Alexei Vladimirnovich’s acute embarrassment, he was surpassing his master. The prince began to learn his lessons, and Mademoiselle was forced to curtail her abuse of Sasha. When the prince was twelve she was replaced by an English tutor, Mr. Bradbury, whose British sense of fair play caused him to treat the boys as equals. Alexei Vladimirnovich tolerated this, for it made his body servant a far more interesting companion and confidant, and he was now
the
Prince Cherkessky, his father having died in a wild race down the frozen Neva. Five noblemen had taken part in the sled race that had left Prince Vladimir Cherkessky and his current mistress dead, three others injured, and one woman crippled for life.

The prince had only been fourteen, and though haughtily aware of his position, he needed the friendship of a grown man. Mr. Bradbury had willingly supplied that friendship, and soon he had affectionately introduced the boy to his first sexual experience. A year later Sasha was initiated into their pleasure. The Englishman and the prince also enjoyed ladies. Sasha, however, did not. He had learned young not to trust women. His own
mother had never even held him, let alone given him a hug or a kiss.

No, Sasha didn’t particularly care for women, but this one he was traveling with didn’t seem a bad sort at all. He had expected hysteria, even an attempt at physical violence, when she regained consciousness. He had fully expected he would have to keep her drugged the entire trip, perhaps even the first few days at the farm, but here she was this last day of the trip fully conscious, and quiet. She had asked him relatively intelligent questions, knew enough to keep quiet, and did not talk all the time.

For the briefest moment he stared at her and was sad. The story she had told him of her background was obviously the truth. He hadn’t for a moment believed that bitch Gillian.

The coach rumbled on down the badly paved and rutted road across the high central plateau that led to the city of Odessa. The city, which descended in terraces from its heights, had originally been the site of an ancient Greek settlement. The first city was gone by the fourth century
A.D
. In the fourteenth century a Tatar chief built a fort on the site, which was captured two centuries later by the Ottoman Turks. Then, seventeen years before Miranda was to visit the city, the Russians had captured it and built a fort and a naval base.

It was a lovely city, its streets laid out in sections of tree-lined rectangles. The coach slowed to accommodate itself to the city traffic, but neither of its inhabitants woke. Miranda’s young and healthy body was quickly throwing off the effects of several days of the opium elixir, and she slept a deep and restful sleep, sure she would find a way out of this. Next to her, Sasha, certain that his charge would behave sensibly, snored lightly. They were roused simultaneously when the coach stopped at the gates of Prince Cherkessky’s huge estate.

“Hey, Sasha, wake up!” The Russian dialect penetrated their consciousnesses, and both awoke.

“Hello, Misha, open up. I’ve a precious new cargo for the farm.”

“Who’s this one for?”

“Lucas. Alexei Vladimirnovich finally found him the perfect mate.”

The gatekeeper leered in at Miranda, making smacking noises. “Whew! That’s a tasty morsel. Lucas is a lucky bastard, all right, and I know he’ll enjoy fucking this one, but I don’t think the little French girl will be too happy. She’s been his favorite for quite a while.”

“Too bad about her! Open up now. We’ve had a long trip, and the quicker I get Mirushka settled the faster we can get down to business.”

“What was he saying,” she asked, flushing, not quite sure she needed a translation.

“He was admiring you and envying Lucas,” came the reply.

“Oh.” She was silent a moment, and then said, “How can I speak to your Lucas? I don’t know Russian.”

“You’ll have to learn then, won’t you,” he said, but seeing the stricken look on her face, relented. After all, the prince wanted her happy. “Lucas has a natural flair for languages, Mirushka. He knows God knows how many Russian dailects; some German, for two of his women are from the Rhine valley; and his French is excellent thanks to the French girl, Mignon. I don’t think you’ll be doing too much talking though,” he finished.

“You’re horrid!” she declared angrily. “If, however, your Lucas does speak French I shall explain my situation to him. Surely he will not rape another man’s lawful wife. I’m afraid your prince’s plans for me will be foiled, and you will have to let me go. You could tell the prince I died, and then go back to St. Petersburg to be with him. You miss him already, I can tell.”

He ignored the first part of her speech. Why bother to explain to her that Lucas would do what he was told because he was a dutiful slave? “If I returned to St. Petersburg and told the prince you’d died, he’d kill me,” he said simply. “And he would be justified, for you are a very precious possession of his, and I have been entrusted with your care. I have served Alexei Vladimirnovich since I was five years old, and
never
have I disappointed him!”

She turned away from him, and looked out the coach window. It had been worth the try. Now she knew his loyalty couldn’t be subverted. She gazed at the estate. It was partly wooded, and partly open rolling fields, and ahead she could see the main villa nestled on a green hillside above the sea. There were golden wheatfields, vineyards heavy with purple and green grapes, and
orchards. She saw cattle, sheep, and goats grazing in lush pastures. It was a lovely picture, seemingly innocent of its true purpose.

As if anticipating her thoughts, he spoke. “The farm is almost totally self-sufficient. Everything needed is grown, or else we barter for it. The farm is divided into several sections. The children, for instance, live the farthest away from the main section, as we don’t want them disturbing the women. Newborns are taken from their mothers immediately after birth, and removed to the nurseries. We have five nurseries, each staffed and capable of caring for up to ten babies. There is one nursemaid for every two children, and they remain in the nursery until the age of three, when they are transferred to the children’s quarters.

“Here the children are separated by sex, ten to a building overseen by two older women. Each group sleeps in one room, but all the children eat together in a common dining hall. They are happy, active, well-fed youngsters. We cannot sell unattractive, poor-spirited children. The boys are all gelded quite young, for most are quite beautiful, and will be very successful as eunuchs. Most of the girls, of course, are meant for harems, although occasionally we keep some for fresh breeding stock. But we’re careful not to breed them with their own sires. Once we were not so careful, and then we got malformed or idiot children. The prince is very wise, and when we were more careful in our cross-matching we eliminated our problems.”

He spoke with obvious pride as he detailed the operation of the estate, explaining how and what the children were taught so they might increase their value and please their future masters. Miranda almost laughed aloud at the ludicrous obscenity of it all. Two years ago at this very time, she was more innocent than an average ten-year-old on Prince Cherkessky’s slave-breeding farm.

“Now the breeding women—we have almost a hundred—live ten to each quarters. Each building consists of five-bedroom cubicles sleeping two each and a common room for eating and recreation. They are cared for by two older women. Their only job is to breed healthy, beautiful babies.

“We have ten studs whose living arrangements are the same as the women. By the way you won’t be living in the quarters for a while, but staying in Alexei Vladimirnovich’s villa with me. He
thought you might be more comfortable there until you’ve accustomed yourself to your new surroundings. Your happiness is important to the prince.”

“He is kindness personified,” she murmured sweetly. He ignored her obvious sarcasm.

“There are breeding huts and baths too in the quarters, and we have several midwives. In a difficult case there is a doctor on the estate, but he mostly cares for the children.”

Curious in spite of herself, Miranda asked, “How long has Prince Cherkessky had this estate?”

“The farm has belonged to the prince for twelve years now, but it has been in his family for close to two hundred years. The prince’s maternal grandfather was the Tatar overlord of this region, Prince Batu. When Russia won the area, the old man’s Tatar sons and grandsons were killed or executed. The Tzar, of course, was happy to see that the estates passed to Alexei Vladimirnovich when Prince Batu died, thus keeping them in the family. Slaves from this farm have been justly famous, and highly prized in Constantinople’s best slave markets for over a hundred and fifty years now.”

While Miranda was digesting all of this information the coach swept up the gravel drive of the white stone villa and came to a stop. Two young men ran up to hold the horses’ heads, and another hurried out of the house to open the coach door. “Welcome, Pieter Vladimirnovich. We had a pigeon two days ago foretelling your arrival. Everything is prepared for you.”

Sasha climbed down from the coach, and offered his hand to Miranda. She took it, stood up, and promptly fell back. “Sasha, my legs are too weak to stand,” she cried, frightened.

“It’s all right, Mirushka, it’s only a temporary thing.” He turned to the footman. “Help her! Take her to her room.”

The man reached in and picked her out of the coach as if she was a bouquet of flowers. She was overcome by an unpleasant odor that she soon realized came from her. Flushing with shame, she remembered Sasha’s remark about diapers. “I want a bath immediately,” she said.

“Rest assured it’s already drawn and waiting for you,” he laughed, realizing her discomfort. “Your legs will begin to work after a good hot soak. I will see you later, Mirushka.”