1. May, 1823

1

MAY, 1823

35.8894°N, 5.3213°W

P ort of Ceuta, North Africa

The woman behind the long desk surrounded by torchiere lamps looked up at the latest annoyance at her door. She had a lot of, um, partners who made her network of smuggling along the shores of the Mediterranean run smoothly. The way to keep them happy, and her empire a success, was a complicated monthly accounting which allotted each cog in her spiderweb of ventures a fair share of that month's receipts. The accounting took a devil of a long time, and the last thing she needed was Obadiah coming to her with a problem he couldn't solve on his own.

The minute he plopped down a young woman who began kicking and spitting whilst piling abusive Berber invectives on the poor man, El sensed a "situation." She stood, pressed her hands together, and kissed the feminine intruder on both cheeks whilst murmuring "Ahlan." After a moment, she asked, "Is there a reason you've invaded my home this morning without invitation and attacked my man of business?"

El tipped up the young woman's chin and gazed sympathetically into her eyes. She was beautiful, skin as smooth as silk with the green gaze frequently found amongst descendants of Berbers. Obviously, some distant ancestor must have been a Georgian slave brought to the market frequented by wealthy Arabs.

And then a stab of recognition hit. "You're Saida Hossini, the apothecary. What has happened?"

The young woman hid her face in her hands and began sobbing. "The mob…Samir, the rug merchant, used my stomach remedy to poison his wife, and now they all blame me." She raised her huge, tear-filled emerald eyes. "They accuse me of murder. They want to stone me."

"I've used your stomach remedies…so has Obadiah. Nothing has ever happened to us." El cocked her head and gave Saida a quizzical look.

Saida spread her hands wide. "He gave his wife an overdose, which can be deadly. He knew it could kill, because I warned him when he came back for a second packet." She moaned and covered her face again. "I should have known he was up to something."

El, who knew how unforgiving the culture of Arab countries could be, particularly in the case of disobedient women, made a quick decision. "Obadiah, ready the Lady Muirgen . We sail at the first turn of the tide in the morning."

After the tall, dark-haired man left them, El motioned to Saida to follow her down a long, dilapidated hallway to a ramshackle door which opened miraculously onto a suite of open, airy rooms with a sunken bath embedded in the tile floor of one of the rooms. "You'll be safe here until morning, but you cannot let anyone know you're leaving. Your life, and quite possibly mine, depend on our getting you out of the country as soon as possible." El gazed for a moment out an open window overlooking the rooftops of Ceuta. When she turned back to Saida, she added, "I hope there's no one you care about you'll have to leave behind, because from this day forward you'll have to assume a new life."

Later that night, just as El was about to snuff all the candles in her office torchieres, a tentative tap sounded at her thick, wooden door followed by her second-in-command Obadiah poking his head around the edge, a question on his face.

"Come," she said. "Let's plan tomorrow morning's escape for the little bird."

Obadiah's face took on a thoughtful look. "Shall we stash her inside our special vented cask stuffed with silken robes and scarves?"

"No." She shook her head firmly. "The customs officers probably still remember the last time we used that trick to spirit away the bey's favorite slave boy he'd whipped nearly to death."

"You're right. That was a near thing."

El snapped her fingers. "I have an idea, but I need your help." She gave him an unholy smile, like the priests managing the Inquisition must have given their victims. "They'll never suspect a thing."

Obadiah groaned. His boss saying she needed his help rarely ended well for his peace of mind. He knew the task probably didn't require sheer brawn, because he'd never seen Captain Eleanor Goodrum helpless in any situation he could recall.

Saida had spent extra time that night kneeling at her prayers before crawling beneath the smooth linen sheets of the bed in her gaoler's silken prison. When the woman captain had checked on her after she'd taken a long, restorative soak in the sunken tub of warm, oil-scented water, Saida had begged her to explain how she planned to whisk her away from the certain death that awaited her in the streets of Ceuta.

"You have to be brave. I'm going to walk you down to the berth where my ship awaits."

"No—," Saida cried. "When they see who I am, they'll stone me. Everyone in Ceuta has heard by now. They think I'm a poisoner."

"People see what they want to see, Saida. You have to trust me and do exactly as I say."

"But what is it you'll have me do?"

"It's better if you put that worry aside, sleep well tonight, and let Obadiah and me sail you away to a safe place on the morning tide."

After the tall, forbidding-looking captain left, Saida had lain awake, terror beating away in her chest like a wild bird trying to escape. She'd heard of the strong, powerful woman smuggler who sailed in and out of the Spanish-held harbor of Ceuta. Everyone in the small seaside town had heard of Captain El, many feared her. She had the face of an angel if you gazed at her from the right side. The left side of her face was another matter altogether. That side was scarred from what looked like the slash of a sword from the outer edge of her full, sensuous mouth to just below her left ear.

One of Saida's argan seed suppliers at the apothecary claimed he'd sold the captain vials of the precious, aromatic oil for sale in Europe. He claimed to have asked her once how she came to be scarred and who the devil would have inflicted such a wound on a woman. She'd smiled at him and said, "It doesn't matter. He's dead."

Finally, Saida coaxed sleep to come by remembering the scents and sights of her small apothecary off Ceuta's main market square: clay pots of dried herbs, plus argan seeds and a few vials of the precious oil she made herself. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves that had been built by her mother and grandmother held rows and rows of containers labeled: star anise with its sweet, spicy, pungent woody scent; amber, warm, rich, resinous, and sensual; strong, pungent, and earthy ginseng; saffron with its honey-like soft floral scent, sometimes more grassy, earthy, and musky; fresh, lemony verbena of lemongrass; and sage-like salvia. And all the special teas for curing stomach ailments as well as aching joints and simple wounds. Karkade made from hibiscus plants and the mace flower. Most potent of all was the precious argan oil, ground and lovingly made by her own hands from the spicy, mustard-like seeds. Although the laborious method of extraction meant each vial was very expensive, she always sold as many as she could produce.

One of her most eagerly sought after best sellers was amber, for fortifying one's life force. She nearly laughed at that thought. After tomorrow, she probably wouldn't have to worry about her life force if whatever fantastical escape plan the mysterious sea captain and her first-in-command had in mind failed to work.

She almost wished she could sneak back to the comfort of her little shop to brew one of her favorite teas to guard against stress and bring on sleep. Somewhere in the midst of those thoughts, the scented oil Captain El's servant had slipped into her bath spirited her off to the land of forgetting.

Captain El rubbed her sweaty palms against the leather breeches she wore whenever she sensed a fight was brewing. She gave an involuntary wince as yet another of her expensive casks filled with rolls of luxurious silks was wantonly slashed through by one of the customs official's thugs armed with a wicked-sharp curved sword. She'd been right to suspect smuggling Saida onto the Lady Muirgen in one of her casks was a bad idea. She'd used that trick one too many times on the arrogant customs spy the Bey always hid in the crowd of onlookers who swirled around the docks in the mornings, looking for bits of gossip and intrigue.

The look of pure hatred the customs man turned on her made her stifle a smile. She hoped to all the gods on Olympus the subterfuge she and Obadiah had planned would be successful.

Just then there was a rising murmur amongst the townspeople crowding around the gangplank to see what the notorious woman captain was up to now. Obadiah stepped smoothly from the shadows of their warehouse, a simple, lovestruck smile on his face. His arm wound tightly around a woman clad in the sheerest of silks. On his opposite shoulder shrieked an annoying cockatoo, flapping its wings wildly and screeching French insults into his ear.

Several women in the crowd smiled knowingly to their husbands. They'd been convinced the tall mountain of a man who served as the she-captain's first mate and all-around first-in-command had a lover hidden somewhere in Ceuta. At first they'd assumed he shared the bed of the captain, but then, rumors surfaced which hinted that he perhaps indulged in more exotic sensual interests.

The men of the small harbor town who, truth to tell, were a bit intimidated by the man, were eager to believe he was, um, less than a man in that one area. However, their wives knowingly clucked at them, here she was in all her glory — his disgraceful mistress. El made it her business to know what was going on before the hearths of the simple residents of Ceuta as well as the gossip of the taverns.

Just then, as if to confirm their suspicions, the vain woman deliberately rubbed a soft hand over one of Obadiah's nipples on his bare chest, which swelled as if in obeisance to her command. To do so, she had to shift the dainty silk parasol she carried to protect her from the early morning sun. Long, elaborately coifed raven-black curls were piled atop her head as well as cascading down over her shoulders. Dark kohl outlined large eyes in her dainty face. Her eye color was masked a bit by unusually thick and lush eyelashes.

This time, as the sounds of the mob swelled, the pale, peach-colored bird sitting atop the tall man's shoulder began to swell its feathers and hurl shrieking insults at the woman. When she suddenly opened her delicate hand to reveal a mound of seeds, the bird ceased its loud protests and suddenly swooped from Obadiah's shoulder to that of the slight woman at his side. When the cockatoo began stroking her cheek with its feathers and gently picking the seeds from her hand, the crowd cheered, which prompted further wild screeches from the creature.

El could almost sense the unspoken, and spoken questions surging through the crowd. Who was this woman? Where had he found her? Surely there was no one like her, even in the harbor front taverns of Ceuta. Ah…the giant Obadiah must have found her in some far-flung port and now she was his woman.

Once they'd disappeared into the bowels of the below-decks of the Lady Muirgen , El swung herself aboard, and her crew whipped the gangplank back onto the ship, just before the tide moved them smartly away from the docks, and the ship's sails snapped to fullness from the wind, like a protective creature baring her fangs.

Obadiah was already at the wheel. "Where to?"

El pointed west. "Back home..." At the teasing, questioning look in his eyes, she added, "…to England." And then she turned to go below to help Saida rid herself of all the ridiculous makeup she'd had to plaster on her face to create the illusion of being Obadiah's whore.

And then of course they'd have to decide what to do with the fractious bird El had inherited from her ancient Indonesian navigator from Java who'd died at the end of their last trip to Ceuta. He'd begged her to keep Aji after he was gone.

Aji Saka was one of a tribe of birds who lived as long as sixty or seventy years. He stood nearly as tall as the length of one of El's arms. The most El had hoped for was that the sight of the outrageously beautiful bird would distract the crowd. And although he'd seemed to grieve for months after the old man's death, he'd inexplicably perked up and joined in the charade with Obadiah and Saida whilst smuggling her past the townspeople. His ear-splitting performance might well have saved all of their lives and allowed them to glide away from the suspicious mob.