Chapter 49

Chapter 49

E VEN the fates seemed to be conspiring to whisk her quickly to her destination. The ship sped down the Tyrrhenian Sea through the Straits of Messina, and into the Mediterranean towards Crete, where they stopped to take on water and fresh food. A small shiver ruffled Cat's outward calm as she gazed at the shoreline and realized that she was following in her great-grandmother's footsteps.

For the first time the fairy story of Janet Leslie's life became real to her great-granddaughter, and Cat was afraid. She wondered if the thirteen-year-old Janet had been afraid. At least I won't be exhibited naked on the slave block, she thought with relief. If you please the grand vizier you won't, a small nagging voice whispered in her head. But what if he does not like you? How can you possibly compete with young girls? You are over thirty!

"Why do you frown so, little girl?" inquired Khair-ad-Din, who had taken to playing chess with her in the evenings. "Are you finally ready to admit that I am a better chess player than a mere woman?"

Forced from her nightmare, Cat laughed. "No, you old sea trout! I am not!" Then her lovely face became serious again.

"Tell me," he said. "Share your troubles with me, and perhaps I can ease them."

"I am afraid, Khair-ad-Din. I am no nubile virgin to be offered to the grand vizier. I am a grown woman with children. I have been married twice. What can I possibly offer Cicalazade Pasha? He will laugh at his sister's gift, and sell me in some slave market."

The fat man sitting opposite her looked back at her with sympathy. "Little girl," he said patiently, "have you looked in a mirror lately? There is not a man alive who, given his choice between you and some poor virgin, would choose the virgin. And neither would Cicalazade Pasha. His harem is quite famous. The vizier prefers beauty, charm, and wit to innocence. Let the sultan amuse himself with a weekly procession of virgins—not so with my lord Cicalazade. And another thing, my beauty. If my lord Cicalazade desires to sell you off, I will buy you myself!" And his laughter rumbled throughout the cabin. "I have as much chance of that as I do of being pope," he wheezed, chuckling happily.

The ship sailed on into the Aegean Sea, skirting the small Greek islands. When the ship slipped through the Dardanelles and into the Sea of Marmara, Cat felt a wrench of real loss, knowing that she now had truly left her world.

Already the Turkish clothing she wore felt familiar and comfortable, and she could not help but wonder what Cicalazade Pasha was like. Perhaps when she explained the situation to him he would accept a ransom for her, and allow her and Susan to return home. His reputation belied that of a man so desperate for a woman that he would hold one against her will. Cat comforted herself with that thought. He sounded almost civilized.

They reached Istanbul in late afternoon when the sun was spreading its light across the Golden Horn, giving the newcomers an understanding of the famed waterway's name. Khair-ad-Din sent a messenger immediately to the palace of the grand vizier, and within an hour a closed litter and a troup of armed guards appeared at the ship to take them away.

"It is unlikely I will ever see you again, little girl," said Khair-ad-Din to Cat "May Allah guide you—even if you are a better chess player than I am."

The tears sprang to her eyes. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. He patted her shoulder and led her onto the deck, where he turned her and Susan over to a black eunuch.

"I suppose, captain," said the eunuch pettishly to Khair-ad-Din, "that they do not understand Turkish. Which of the barbaric Western tongues must I use?"

Cat stamped her foot angrily and, speaking in flawless Turkish, berated the eunuch. "Toad! Uncircumcised spawn of pig's offal! How dare you speak to me in such a fashion? In my land I am a great lady. I will not be shown disrespect by such as you!"

The eunuch almost fainted, and Khair-ad-Din bit back his laughter. "The noble lady speaks the truth, Osman. Though she be here against her will, she is a special gift from Cicalazade's sister. She and her servant are to be treated gently."

Osman eyed Cat warily. Here was trouble. His judgment of women slaves was always infallible, and this one would be trouble. "How is it, noble lady, that you speak our tongue? Does your servant also?"

"I learned many languages as a child," replied Cat, "and yours was one of them. My servant is just learning, but has a good ear."

The eunuch nodded. "It is always easier when they understand you," he observed to Khair-ad-Din as if Cat wasn't there. "Very well, noble lady," he said, turning back to her, "if you and your woman will follow me to the Utter." He looked at them. "Are your veils tight? Ah, yes, I can see that they are."

And before she could say another word, she and Susan were hustled off the ship. She barely had time to turn and raise her hand in a gesture of farewell to Khair-ad-Din. The curtains were pulled tightly shut, and she felt a little jolt as the slaves raised the litter and trotted off. She and Susan looked at each other in wonder. Where were they going? They would have given anything to peek through the hangings, but when they ventured a peep out, Osman squeaked with outrage.

The litter moved at an even pace through the noise, breeze, and sea smell of the waterfront to the noise, heat, and human smells of the city, and then to the cooler, quieter area near the Yeni Serai of the sultan. Here along the shores of the Bosporus near the imperial palace was located the smaller palace of the grand vizier. Safe within its courtyard the litter stopped, and was set down, and the curtains opened.

"Please to step out, noble lady," said Osman, and they climbed from the litter. "Your servant will be taken to your quarters, noble lady. You are to come with me to Hammid, the grand eunuch." And Susan found herself being led off by a black slavewoman.

Cat followed Osman into the palace through what seemed a maze of corridors, and finally through a large, carved door into a square room. Sitting on a pile of cushions was a short but enormous coal-black man, dressed in red and blue silk robes. Upon his head was a cloth-of-silver turban with a large center ruby.

"Make obeisance to the grand eunuch," hissed Osman frantically, falling to his knees and bowing low.

"Insect," she whispered fiercely at him. "I am a king's cousin. I kneel to no one but God and my lord."

Rich laughter rumbled forth from the great mountain of flesh. "Well said, woman! My lord Cicalazade likes spirit—provided it is tempered with wisdom." The voice was high, and seemed strange in so large a man. "Osman, wait outside." And as Osman left, the head eunuch turned to Cat. "I am Hammid, master of the vizier's household. What is your name, my beauty?"

Drawing herself up proudly, she said, "I am the Lady Catriona Stewart-Hepburn, the Countess of Bothwell. I am a cousin to his majesty King James of Scotland, who will, on the death of Queen Elizabeth, also be King of England. I am here against my will, having been kidnapped with my servant from my home by your master's sister. She covets my husband, and he refused her. She thinks to revenge herself on us by sending me here. If you will but send word to my husband, Lord Bothwell, he will pay your master double whatever ransom he wishes. There will be a rich reward for you also."

"The vizier is not in the habit of collecting ransoms, woman. You were not sent here for that purpose, as you are well aware. If the vizier's sister wished to extort monies from you she would have done so. She wished you removed from your husband, and saw a chance to do her brother a good turn at the same time." He watched her from beneath hooded lids to see the effect his words would have on her. This was his way of judging her worth. He would have been very disappointed had she not showed spirit.

"I am a married woman," said Cat. "I will not submit to your master. I would sooner be dead!"

The eunuch's laughter again rumbled across the room. "Nonsense," he said. "You are life itself! Do not make idle threats. I have dealt too long with your sex to know when they are serious about suicide." He saw the glint of tears in her eyes, but she shed not a one, and he was pleased that she showed courage in this difficult situation. "Do not be afraid, woman. You are not to be delivered shrieking to my master. You will need a few days of rest to recover from your ordeal, and to observe our ways. Come closer now so I may see you better."

She slowly moved forward until she was standing directly in front of him.

"Disrobe for me, woman."

"No!" She looked startled at his request, even mutinous.

Hammid sighed. "I do not wish to embarrass you, woman, but if you do not obey me I shall simply call in Osman, and he will do it for me."

For a moment she stood rigid with anger, determined to make it difficult for him. Then, realizing the futility of her situation she shrugged and slowly pulled the veil from her face and then from her head. Next she removed the satin brocade bolero. Her fingers trembled as she undid the tiny pearl buttons on the gauze blouse and took it off. Lastly she kicked the kid slippers from her feet, and stepped from the silk pantaloons.

"Put your hands up behind your head, woman," and when she obeyed him he murmured, "Superb" at her beautiful rounded breasts with their dark-rose nipples. "Loosen your hair, and turn for me." The tawny, honey-colored hair tumbled almost to her waist. He smiled. "When my master sees you, woman, he will be lost You are a delight to the eye. Now dress yourself again, and Osman will take you to your quarters, where your body servant waits. Are you hungry?" She nodded. "I will give orders that you be served a supper immediately. Afterwards you will have a bath, a massage, and a good night's sleep. You will be a new woman. In three days' time I will take you into the city myself, for there is something I wish you to see."

He clapped his hands, and Osman reappeared to lead her out Hammid sat motionless for a moment after they left, and then said, "Well, master, I think your sister has unknowingly done you a great kindness. What do you think of the woman?"

A tall man stepped from behind a carved screen behind the grand eunuch. "She is magnificent! Allah, Hammid, I am eager to have her! Already my loins burn to have her beneath me, helpless and half-fainting with my love!"

"Gently, my lord. She will be yours, I promise you, but first I must win her over and gain her trust. This is a prize worth waiting for, my lord."

"But will she yield, my friend? I see a stubborn streak in her that will be hard to break."

Hammid smiled. "She will yield, my lord. Did you note the lushness of her body? It is the body of a woman used to almost daily lovemaking. It has been several weeks since she was captured, and Kapitan Khair-ad-Din assures me that she was untouched during the voyage. Though her mind will not admit to it, her body already grows eager for a man's touch. We will make her world one of sensuous delights until her sexual hunger far outweighs her desire to withstand us. A week, two at the most, my lord Cica, and she will be yours!"

Cicalazade Pasha's white teeth flashed in a smile. "What shall we call her?"

"Incili," replied Hammid.

"Incili—the Pearl—yes! I like it, Hammid!"

And while they continued to talk, Cat followed Osman again through the maze of corridors, realizing suddenly that they had crossed some invisible line and were in the harem section of the palace. There were women everywhere, women of all races and colors, women of privilege and servants. Cat was able to hear some of their comments, but managed to keep her face impassive.

"Allah! What a beauty!"

"I wonder if the brain matches the face?" "They seldom do, Feriyke."

"Lateefa Sultan will certainly have her royal nose put out of joint by this one." "Isn't that too bad."

Then there was laughter, and then she was being led into a pleasant, airy room, and Susan was there. Mistress and tiring woman fell happily into each other's arms.

"I was so worried," said Susan. "Can we be ransomed?"

"No," said Cat. "We will have to think of something else. However, I am safe from the vizier for the present."

Osman, unable to understand them, demanded, "What language is it you speak, woman? Speak Turkish, or if your slavegirl is not facile enough to converse with you, speak French or Italian so I may understand you."

Cat laughed at him. "We speak Gaelic, the tongue of our ancestors, but if it discomfits you we will speak Turkish."

Osman looked uncomfortable. "The slaves will bring you supper, noble lady. Afterwards the grand eunuch has given orders that you be taken to the baths. I will return in the morning to see you."

They were brought a large bowl of lamb chunks in a sauce of onions and peppers, two small loaves of hot, flat bread, a dish of yogurt, half a dozen ripe peaches, and a little bowl of sugared almonds. A decanter of lemon sherbet was provided for drink. The slavegirl who served them brought two bowls and two goblets, but there were no implements for eating. When Cat asked why, she was told that new captives were never given anything that might aid them in suicide. They would have to use their fingers, and the flat bread which had been provided. They ate ravenously, as they had not eaten since midmorning, and were surprised to discover how good it all was.

When they had finished, the slavegirl brought them a bowl of perfumed water and towels. Then an old slavewoman arrived to escort them to the harem baths. Susan was expected to fend for herself, but Cat was put into the capable hands of the bath mistress, who first saw that she was thoroughly washed, including her hair. Next a pale-pink paste was carefully smeared over the haired areas of her body, and when it was wiped away a half-hour later, she was completely denuded of body hair. While she waited for the pink paste to do its work, her fingernails and toenails were carefully pared. It would have been unthinkable for her lord and master to be scratched. She was exposed to a steam room, and then to a more temperate bath where she was stretched out on a marble bench and massaged. Cat was so relaxed and weak by this time that she could barely walk back to their quarters, where she immediately fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The next three days were spent quietly, with Osman coming each morning to escort them, heavily veiled, on their walk through the vizier's gardens. Each afternoon she was escorted to the baths, where she was bathed and massaged with oils and creams until her skin began to be extremely sensitive to the touch of nearly anything. In the evening she was allowed to watch certain of the harem entertainments, usually dancing. Cat was at first astounded and then intrigued by the open sexual suggestions made by the dancer's movements.

As boredom began to set in on the fourth day, Osman arrived with the information that she must put on her outdoor clothing and veil and follow him. "Your slavegirl will remain here."

"It's all right," Cat told a protesting Susan.

She was led to a large litter and, once inside, was surprised to find herself sitting opposite Hammid. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "I see these three days of rest and relaxation have done you good. I did not think it possible that you could be lovelier, but you are."

"I was beginning to get bored. I am not used to inactivity. Is this all your women do? Sit around waiting to be summoned to their master's bed? How awful!" She stopped a moment to catch her breath and then asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the slave market. You are a woman of great determination. I will show you what will happen if you oppose my master. His bedchamber must be like a beautiful garden—peaceful, fragrant, and a delight to the senses. If you do not yield to him, but fight him instead, he will order you sold off. If this happens, you and your servant will undoubtedly be separated, and it is very possible that your exquisite fairness will attract a slave broker from the Arabian Peninsula, or the African interior. I do not think you would enjoy being stripped naked and inspected by prospective buyers. I do not think you would enjoy being sold to a jungle chief. If you yield to my master, however, your safety and comfort are assured. The choice is yours."

The look she gave him was a candid one. "Why do you torture me, Hammid? You know that I must yield to your master."

He nodded. "You are an intelligent woman, my beauty, but if you yield only your body to my lord Cica, he will know and be offended. You must yield all—your mind and your body!"

"I cannot! And you cannot expect me to, Hammid!"

"You must!"

They rode in silence until finally the slaves stopped and the litter was lowered to the ground. The grand eunuch climbed out and, offering her a hand, helped her out "There are many slave markets in this city," he said, "but this one deals only in beautiful women."

Cat looked about her, and saw women of varied ages, sizes, shapes, and colors. On the raised platform a beautiful girl was now being auctioned. She was completely nude, and the prospective buyers were not shy about poking and squeezing the girl. Her face revealed shame and fright. Cat shivered. Finally the girl was purchased by a man with a fierce mustache. Cat was forced to stand quietly watching for almost an hour. Then Hammid got involved in the bidding on an exquisite golden-blond Circassian girl of about thirteen. When he had secured her purchase Cat heard him tell the slave merchant, "Send the maiden to the Yeni Serai with the Vizier Cicalazade Pasha's compliments." Then he and Cat returned to their litter.

As they rode Cat said quietly, "I will try, Hammid, but I promise you nothing. It will not be easy for me."

He smiled. "Good! I have not misjudged your character. Do not be afraid, my beauty. I will give you time to accept your status. You will be happy, I promise you. The vizier is a magnificent lover and he will pleasure you as no man ever has. He is like a young bull—hot and inexhaustible."

Cat lowered her head as a flush swept her cheeks. It had been weeks now since she had last lain with Francis, and she was frankly edgy, but she would have died rather than allow Hammid to know this. The eunuch knew her thought and smiled. "I have decided upon your Turkish name," he told her. "You will answer to the name of Incili. It means Beautiful Pearl, and you are that indeed. We will call your servant Mara."

The next few days were quiet ones. Though she was permitted to mingle with the other women of the harem, she felt no particular urge to make friends. She was frankly curious about Lateefa Sultan, the vizier's wife, but she never saw her.

When she had been in the harem for over two weeks, she returned from the baths one afternoon to find the grand eunuch, Hammid, waiting for her.

"I am going to present you to the vizier tonight," he said.

Stricken, she implored him, "So soon?"

"The time is propitious," he told her. "Come now, Incili, you are no virgin, but a woman of experience. Does your lovely body not ache for a man's touch? Do you not crave a man's hardness deep within you? How long now has it been since you last lay swooning in a lover's arms?"

"Stop," she whispered. "Oh, please stop!"

"I have left special clothing for you. I will come for you at eight."

At eight she stood shivering in the hot summer night, waiting for Hammid. Her garments were the sheerest of pale-pink-mauve silk gauze. The pantaloons were embroidered at the ankles with a band of gold-and-silver thread, and a matching band rode her hips below her navel. A tiny sleeveless open bolero, its edges embroidered in seed pearls, barely covered her breasts. She was, of course, veiled. A second, longer veil had been placed over the first.

Hammid arrived with a small litter and walked alongside it as it was carried towards the vizier's bedchamber. "I will go in with you tonight. Do not be afraid, Incili. My lord Cica will be kind." Then they were there. His hand was at her elbow as he guided her through the door.

"I have brought the woman, Incili, as my lord commanded," the eunuch said to a tall man in the shadows. Hammid then removed the head veil, the face veil, and the bolero. As her breasts were exposed, Cat heard a soft intake of breath from the man. The eunuch's hands were swiftly drawing the pantaloons down and off. She was completely naked.

"Thank you, Hammid. You may go now."

As the door closed behind her she stood frozen, frightened, wondering what to expect. Then the man stepped from the shadows, and Cat saw before her the handsomest man she had ever seen in her entire life.

He was tall, and ruggedly tan, but where his white pantaloons rode low on his slim hips she could see his skin was as fair as hers. His hair was dark, wavy, and cropped short with just a touch of silver at the temples. His eyes were, to her surprise, a light gray-blue. He was nothing at all like his sister, Angela. His facial features were those of a classic Greek statue, with high cheekbones, straight nose, well-spaced eyes, and a full, sensuous mouth. He wore a beautifully clipped and tailored dark mustache.

He held out his hand, his eyes locking hers. Automatically she placed her slender hand in his. His touch was like fire. "I have never possessed anything as exquisite as you, Incili." The voice was warm velvet.

"You do not possess me yet, my lord Cicalazade," she answered him coolly.

The white, even teeth flashed in a quick smile, and he laughed. "It is but a matter of time, Incili, is it not?" Bending, he picked up the larger of the two veils and, twisting it into a rope, put it about her waist and drew her towards him. As her breasts touched his bare chest she began to tremble, instinct warning her that this was not a man easily led. One hand firmly lifted her chin, bringing her face up so he might look down at her. He smiled. "Green eyes," he said softly. "They are beautiful, Incili, but then you know that don't you?"

Her heart was hammering wildly, and she could not speak. She was furious with herself. What was the matter with her? She tried to turn away, but his head dipped quickly, and his mouth closed over hers. Unreasonable panic gripped her, and she struggled to escape him, but he simply held her closer, gently forcing her lips apart to allow his tongue entry.

She tore her head away from him, her eyes wide, gasping great gulps of air to clear her mind. Her hands flew up, palms against his hairy chest, trying to hold him off. He laughed low and, catching her hands in his, forced them behind her back so that once again their bodies were intimately pressing against each other. Again he took deliberate possession of her mouth, and when his tongue darted deep within her mouth, lightly touching, hungrily stroking, she felt deep within her the banked fires flicker into flame. Slowly she ceased her resistance, and began instead to respond to the warm pressure of his mouth.

Feeling her yield, he brought one hand around to delicately caress a round breast. "Incili …" His voice was low, edged with passion. "You rouse me as no woman ever has," and he was leading her through an alcove to a large bed upon a dais. Falling backwards onto the bed, he gently drew her down to him. He held her just slightly above him so that her breasts hung like ripe fruits. Lifting his head to them, he licked the nipples, sending shock waves of desire racing through her. Turning her over onto her back, his dark head dipped, and his mouth closed hungrily over a breast, nursing on it eagerly, sending streaks of hot delight through her. His lips began a tortuous exploration of her beautiful body, searing her. And then he saw her tiny mole—that outrageously enticing little mark of Venus—perched high atop the cleft of her womanhood. His hand reached down to loosen his pantaloons. Squirming against her, he worked them down and off, returning his attention to the fascinating little mole that beckoned him onward.

His eyes widened with delight, and a little smile touched his lips. The mole was an invitation impossible to ignore. He bent and kissed it, pleased with the tremor that shook her. Now he was almost level with her again, and taking her hand, he guided it to touch him, groaning when her hand closed over him.

He gazed down for a moment at the beautiful woman beneath him. For the first time in his life he believed he had a woman whose sexual appetite matched his own. Her hand released him, and he swung over her, his hands gently spreading her thighs. He knelt between her legs now, and she raised her eyes to him, gasping at the great blue-veined ivory shaft that sprang from the black mat between his legs. Grasping her buttocks, he drew her slowly towards him and impaled her on his swollen manhood.

For a surprised moment he almost lost his control, for she was not only warm and moist but almost as tight as a virgin. Feeling her squeezing him, he groaned with delight. Regaining control of himself, he began to move smoothly within her. Then he slowly lowered her to the bed, straddling her more comfortably. Her body was covered in a fine damp mist, and her head thrashed wildly on the pillow. His big hands caressed her gently, and his voice sought to sooth her. Suddenly the leaf-green eyes opened and looked into his gray-blue ones. She began to weep softly.

"No, Incili. No, my exquisite one," he said tenderly. "I see the shadow of another man in your beautiful eyes. I would vanquish that man, for you will never see him again. You are mine for eternity!" he exulted. "Yield yourself completely to me, my beloved!"

"I cannot," she sobbed. "I cannot!"

The teasing hands caressed her again, and his lips pressed little kisses on her face and throat. "I will make you forget him," the deep voice promised. And again he began the sweet rhythm of passion, losing himself in her warmth and sweetness. When he had brought them to a tumultuous climax he held the weeping woman against his broad chest until, exhausted, she sobbed herself to sleep.

She slept like a child, relaxed and curled into a little ball. Smiling, he rose from the tumbled bed and, moving to a low table, poured himself a goblet of fresh orange sherbet. Sprawling on some cushions, he thoughtfully sipped and watched his beautiful sleeping slave. Hammid had been right, she was worth special handling. But Allah! She was a challenge! He had but to command, and the women of his harem strove to please him. Even his proud princess of a wife was eager that he be happy.

With Incili, however, the positions were reversed. It was he who was striving to win her over. He would continue to do so until he possessed her body and her soul. Never had he known such ecstasy as tonight's. He shivered, thinking what she would be like when she finally yielded herself to him completely.