Kitabı oku: «Captive Of The Harem», sayfa 3

He felt a stirring in his loins, and realised that she had affected him in a way no woman had for a long time. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he knew a fierce longing to take her there and then—but then his self-control asserted itself once more. He had not paid a thousand gold pieces for his own benefit. He needed something rare and beautiful to please the Grand Turk.

She was truly a gift fit for the Sultan, he thought as he continued to watch her. The money demanded for her price had been exorbitant, far more than he would normally have considered—but perhaps she was worth it. He frowned as she submerged beneath the water again, seeming to stay there longer than necessary.

Was she trying to drown herself? Such things were not unknown amongst infidel women—they did not always take kindly to the idea of becoming a slave. He had heard of women killing themselves rather than being forced to submit to slavery.

He moved out from behind the pierced wooden screen, which had served as his hiding place, just as the woman surfaced once more. At first she did not seem to see him, then, when she became aware that she was no longer alone, she stared at him for a moment, screamed and ducked beneath the water again.

Suleiman cursed loudly and waded into the pool. The foolish woman was trying to kill herself. He saw her beneath the surface and bent down to grab her, but she shot out of his grasp, swimming beneath the water to the far side. Then she came up gasping for air. He caught a glimpse of her lovely breasts, the nipples a deep rose, peaked and tempting, and then she crossed her arms over herself, her eyes meeting his in a cold stare.

She was angry! Suleiman was also angry. He was wet and uncomfortable and he realised that she had no intention of drowning herself—which made what he had done seem foolish.

‘Who are you?’ Eleanor demanded as he waded up the steps of the bath. He had been wearing a long, heavily embroidered robe over loose white pants and the tunic dragged against him in the water. ‘How dare you spy on me?’

‘I thought you meant to drown yourself. I did not intend to frighten you.’

Eleanor realised that she had spoken in English and that he had replied in the same language, clearly as at home in her native tongue as she. She had not expected that somehow.

‘Go away! You have no right to be here. Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn owns me and he will kill you if he finds you here.’

‘I do not think so.’ Suleiman was amused by her show of defiance. Did she not realise that she was completely at his mercy? He could strip off his wet clothes and join her in the bath… The temptation to do so made him harden beneath his robes. He could feel his manhood burning and throbbing with a fierce need—a need he had not felt in a long time. ‘Come out and dry yourself, woman.’

‘Not while you’re watching!’

‘Foolish one! You have nothing to show that I have not already seen a thousand times.’

‘I don’t care how many concubines you have!’ Eleanor retorted, stung by his mockery. How dare he speak to her so! ‘I am not one of them and I am not coming out until you go away.’

‘You will turn cold.’ Suleiman sat down on a tiled bench, his eyes intent on her face, his mouth softened by amusement. ‘I have no intention of leaving.’

‘You are also wet.’

‘But I shall dry in the sun.’ He laughed huskily, the cruel mouth softened and suddenly appealing. ‘What a fierce one you are, my little bird. You are truly worth the price asked. You will make a fine gift for the Sultan.’

Eleanor was chilled. So she was to be sold after all!

‘Have you bought me?’ He inclined his head, sending strange little sensations down her spine as she saw the brilliance of his eyes. ‘Who—who are you?’

‘My name is Suleiman Bakhar. I am the son of Caliph Bakhar—chief justice minister to the Sultan.’

Eleanor was silent, fighting her desire to weep. It seemed that all her hopes were at an end. She had hoped so much that she would be able to persuade her captor to ransom her—but it was already too late. There was something masterful about this man, an air of arrogance that told her he would not easily give up what was his.

Suleiman relented as he saw her shiver. ‘Come out, foolish woman. I shall turn my back.’

He stood up, turning away so that he could not see her. He heard her moving in the water and was tempted to turn as she left the bath, but resisted.

‘You can look now.’

Suleiman turned. She had wrapped a towel around her body, leaving her shoulders and arms bare, and was clutching the cloth to her as if her life depended on it. He smiled, feeling oddly moved by her need for modesty. Most of the women were only too eager to show off their charms. He picked up the second towel.

‘Come here. I shall dry your hair.’

She made no move to obey, simply staring at him with her head up and her eyes proud. No one disobeyed Suleiman! To do so could mean instant punishment—even death. He was stunned by her obstinacy. Was she mad or merely foolish? Had she no idea how important he was—or what he could do to her if he chose?

‘You must obey me. I am your master.’

‘You may have bought me, but that does not mean that you can make me your slave.’

Suleiman saw the pride and defiance in her eyes and felt a surge of excitement. She was like one of his hawks—when they were fresh from the wild and untamed to the touch of his hand. Most of the birds succumbed to gentle persuasion in time, but now and then one would attempt to tear out his eyes. If that happened the bird was returned to the wild. Some men would have ordered it killed, but Suleiman understood the wild spirit that could not be tamed—and respected it.

He had never met a truly spirited woman before. They were always trained in their duties by the eunuchs and older women long before they were presented to their master.

‘What makes you say that? Do you not understand that I have absolute power over you? I can do with you as I will.’

‘You can do as you will with my body,’ Eleanor retorted, head high. She ought to be afraid of this man but she wasn’t. ‘But you cannot command my mind—or my soul.’

‘Ah…’ Suleiman nodded, enjoying this verbal tussle. ‘Yes, I see. You think you can rise above the indignity of being a slave. I understand. But you do not. You are fortunate that I paid a great deal of money for you—or you might even now feel pain. I do not think you have ever experienced true pain, Eleanor.’

‘Who gave you permission to use my name?’ Her eyes flashed blue fire.

Suleiman moved towards her, towering above her, menacing her with the power of his strength and masculinity—yet she did not flinch. Her hair had begun to dry at the edges in the hot sun, little wisps curling about her face. He could imagine what it would look like properly dressed in its natural waves, cascading down to the small of her back. He was pleased with his purchase and inclined to indulge her for the moment.

‘Here…’ He put the second towel around her shoulders to protect her from the fierce heat. ‘Go into the house and let Roxana help you to dress. We have a ride of some distance to my father’s palace.’

Eleanor was torn between anger and caution. This man was a noble of his own country. A barbarian, of course, but better than many she might have been sold to. She was foolish to antagonise him. If she tried persuasion instead, he might ransom her to her family.

‘I shall obey because I have no choice for the moment,’ she said with dignity. ‘But you do not understand either, sir. I am the daughter of an English baronet. I have powerful friends. They will look for me and they will pay a high price for my return—twice what you paid for me. You may name your own price, sir.’

‘You do not know how much I paid…’ A smile curved his mouth. ‘Would your family give ten thousand in your English gold coin? I might sell you for such a sum.’

It was a king’s ransom and her family could not pay anywhere near as much—and he knew it.

Eleanor paled from shock. ‘That is impossible. You did not pay any such sum!’

Suleiman laughed, much amused by her reaction. She had not tried to lie, and that pleased him. ‘No, I did not—but I am beginning to think I paid too much. You have too much to say for yourself, woman. Have you no respect for your betters? Do you not know that it becomes a woman to remain silent in the presence of her master—at least until she is given permission to speak?’

‘When I am in company that deserves my respect I give it.’ She felt a flash of temper. How dare this barbarian try to teach her manners? She was an English gentlewoman! ‘Here, I see only barbarians.’

‘Be careful, woman.’ Suleiman’s mouth hardened as he took a step towards her. ‘My patience wears thin. Go to the house before I drag you back in the pool and drown you!’

‘You wouldn’t…’ Eleanor began, but the look in those fierce eyes made her think he just might. She gave a little squeak of alarm, turned and fled.

Suleiman watched her flight, his eyes bright with laughter. He had won the first tussle—but what a fight she had put up. She was indeed a fine prize. A worthy gift for the Sultan…and yet perhaps she needed to be tamed a little first. She was too fiery, too defiant. From what he knew of the Sultan, her spirit would not be particularly appreciated.

Perhaps Suleiman would keep her for a while…

Chapter Three

‘You are beautiful,’ Roxana said as she brushed Eleanor’s long hair. She sighed and looked at her with sympathy. ‘It is a pity that you are destined for the Sultan’s harem and not Suleiman Bakhar’s own household.’

‘Why?’ Eleanor frowned at her.

‘Suleiman Bakhar is young and strong—and they say that to be loved by him is like dying and going to paradise. Though perhaps this is only gossip brought by servant women to the markets.’

‘I do not care if he is young and handsome,’ Eleanor said, shivering as she remembered the look in those fierce eyes when he had threatened to drown her. For a moment she had truly believed he might do it. ‘I do not want to be his concubine.’

‘He might marry you—if you are clever. Until now he has taken only concubines. They say he must marry soon, because he must give the Caliph an heir…’

‘I have no wish to be his wife!’ Eleanor stared at her in horror. ‘I can think of nothing worse.’

‘That is because you do not know what it is like to be the wife of an old man.’ Something flickered in the older woman’s eyes. ‘If you did, you would do all you could to make Suleiman notice you and want you for himself.’

‘Was it very hard for you, Roxana?’ Eleanor looked at her with sympathy. It was easy to see that the older woman had once been lovely—and that she had suffered.

‘Sometimes I prayed that I might die before night came.’

‘Is that why you left me alone in the garden? Did you think I might escape? Were you trying to help me?’

‘It is not in my power. Had you tried to escape, you could not have done so,’ Roxana replied. ‘The walls are high and there are guards outside. Besides, if you had got out you would have been noticed immediately. The clothes you were wearing marked you as an infidel and an unbeliever. You would have been chased and caught by the mob—then, when they saw how beautiful you are, they would have begun to quarrel over you. Unless Mohamed’s men rescued you, you might have been raped again and again…’

Eleanor turned pale. She held up her hands as if to ward off the pictures Roxana’s words had brought to life in her mind.

‘Enough! It is clearly useless to try and escape in the city—but if I managed to slip away outside its walls dressed like this…’

She was wearing a pair of drawers, very full, which reached down to her ankles; they were of a fine green material brocaded with gold. Over these, was a smock of a paler green silk gauze, edged with pearls; it had loose sleeves which covered as far as her elbows and closed at the throat with a cluster of pearls. And to Eleanor’s disgust, her breasts were clearly visible through it! The waistcoat fitted her close to her body and had very long sleeves fringed with gold tassels, and the buttons were again clusters of pearls. On top of all these was what Roxana had called a caftan, and that was a straight robe that covered her to the ankles. A girdle of gold threads woven with what looked like precious stones, but must surely be crystals, was fastened with a heavy clasp of gold, again set with jewels. If they were jewels. But Eleanor was certain they must be false. On her feet she wore soft boots that reached just to mid-thigh and were embroidered with gold thread.

It all felt very strange and she protested when she was told that she must put on a casacche before she went out. Since this was a huge cloak that would envelop her in its folds, and she must also wear a veil and a talpock to cover her head, she felt she would suffocate.

‘It is too much,’ she said. ‘I thought my own gowns were restricting enough—but this cloak thing is ridiculous.’

‘You will become accustomed to it,’ Roxana said. ‘When you are in the gardens of the harem you will be able to dispense with some of these layers if you choose. However, you will never be allowed to leave the palace wearing less.’

‘Shall I be allowed out? I thought that was forbidden—that once in a harem women disappeared forever.’

Roxana smiled. ‘You Western people do not understand our culture. Men of good family guard their women for their own protection. You would not be allowed to leave at will, of course, but the Sultan grants his favourite wives certain indulgences. You may be taken on a shopping expedition—or to some grand ceremonial occasion.’

‘But what of those women who do not have their master’s favour? What is it really like in a harem?’

‘You will discover that soon enough. Come, Eleanor, you must not keep your master waiting or he may become angry.’ The look Eleanor gave Roxana at that moment was so full of despair that the older woman’s heart was touched. She embraced her. ‘It is not always so very terrible. Try to please Suleiman Bakhar. If he keeps you for himself, you will not regret it.’

Eleanor nodded but said no more. She knew that Roxana could not help her, that she was free but had no power, no way of earning her living other than by selling herself. She lived here because she pleased Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn, and was as much at his whim as Eleanor would be at her master’s.

It was terribly unfair, but it was the way of the world. She had been spoiled, petted and indulged all her life—and now she had no loving father to protect her. She was completely alone. She did not even know if her dearest Richard was still alive, and her heart wrenched with pain at the thought of what might have happened to him. Richard might already be dead—but she would live and she would win her freedom one day.

She saw Suleiman Bakhar waiting for her in the courtyard, and her heart caught for one terrifying moment and then raced on. He was truly one of the most impressive men she had ever seen, and he looked…wild, an untamed creature and dangerous. She should be afraid of him, and yet…there was something that drew her to him, some thin, invisible thread that seemed to bind her to him as surely as any cruel chains they might put upon her.

She lifted her head as she reached him, eyes bright and challenging. ‘Am I to be chained?’

Suleiman’s gaze narrowed. ‘Should I chain you, Eleanor? Are you planning to try and escape?’

She had hoped there might be an opportunity to slip away from him and now realised that she had been foolish to put him on his guard. ‘What would you do—if you were in my place?’

‘I should kill my captors and run away,’ Suleiman replied truthfully. He laughed deep in his throat, a soft husky sound that Eleanor discovered was very attractive. ‘Foolish woman. I have never put chains on anything—beast or man—let alone a woman with skin as soft as yours.’

‘What has the softness of my skin to do with it?’ She gave him a haughty look.

‘Chains would mark you and mean you were worth less,’ he replied, his expression inscrutable.

‘Of course—I should have known.’ For a moment she had thought he was being compassionate. He was a barbarian and a savage—she should not expect anything from such a man. ‘How am I supposed to ride in this ridiculous thing?’

Suleiman looked at the cloak that enfolded her. ‘You could not ride like that. You will be carried in a litter. It is the usual mode of travel for a woman of class here. I did not know that you could ride.’

‘I would prefer to ride.’

‘Then perhaps I shall allow it one day,’ Suleiman replied. ‘However, today you will be carried in the litter. Come, I am ready to leave.’

Eleanor looked round for Roxana, but she had slipped away as soon as she had delivered her charge. Besides, there was nothing the Morisco woman could have done to help her.

‘Are you afraid?’ Suleiman asked as he saw her hesitation. ‘You have no need to be. You are being taken to my apartments for the moment. I have decided I shall let the older women of my father’s household school you in the manners you need before you are fit to grace the harem of any man.’

At that Eleanor’s head came up, eyes flashing with anger. ‘Afraid—of you? Why should I be? You are merely a man…’

‘Truly, this is so. Why should you be afraid of me? You have no need to be—if you please me.’ Suleiman’s smile flickered deep in the silver depths of his strange eyes. His remarks had had their desired effect. Her pride had leant her courage. ‘Your escort awaits you, lady.’

She felt a tingle at the base of her spine. He had addressed her as a woman of quality at last, and he was behaving as though she were his equal instead of a slave he had bought. Perhaps she might yet persuade him it would be better to ransom her.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she responded graciously. If he thought she needed to be taught manners, she would show him how an English gentlewoman behaved. ‘Will you see that Roxana is rewarded for her kindness to me, please?’

‘It has already been done.’ Suleiman smiled. What a proud beauty she was! Already he was beginning to regret that his father had need of a gift for the Sultan. ‘We should leave before the sun begins to set. It can come suddenly in this land, and my father’s house is outside the city…at times there are bands of lawless bandits who roam the countryside looking for unwary travellers to rob. We have guards to protect us, but I would not have you frightened by these rogues on your first night in your new country.’

‘You are considerate, my lord,’ she said and inclined her head. ‘But this is not my country—it is merely a place I must live in until I can regain my freedom.’

Suleiman’s gaze narrowed, but he refused to be drawn. She was like the hawks that fluttered desperately against the bars of their cage. When she had learned to be obedient to her master’s voice, she would learn that she could fly high and free once more—provided that she returned to his hand when called.

Had he really made up his mind to keep her? It was a risk, for the Sultan might learn of Suleiman’s treasure and be angry because it had not been given to him. If Suleiman kept this woman for himself, he must find another treasure for the Sultan—but not a woman. It would be an insult to give their lord an inferior treasure. Something else rare and precious must be found to take her place…

He was lost in his thoughts, and turned carelessly aside to speak to one of his men as they emerged into a street that was already beginning to fill with the shadows of night. Until one of his men gave a shout of alarm, he did not realise that Eleanor had dropped her casacche and started to run. What did she think she was doing? Foolish, foolish woman! Had she no idea of the dangers of this city? Alone and at night she would disappear into some stinking hovel and never be seen again.

‘Eleanor! Come here at once!’

He began to run as he shouted, sprinting after her down the narrow alley. She was fast, but she could not outrun him and it was not long before he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, but she struggled and wrenched away again; he lunged at her and brought her down into the dust of the street. She scratched his face, fighting and kicking as she fought to throw him off, but he held her as easily as he would a child, laughing down at her as she raged in frustration.

‘You would make a fine Janissary, my little bird—but do not make me hurt you more than I already have.’ His eyes gleamed with triumph as he gazed down at her and Eleanor experienced the oddest feeling deep down inside her—it was as if a tide of molten heat had begun to rise up in her. ‘Come, defy me no more.’

‘You have not hurt me!’ she said defiantly, but it was a lie because the fall had hurt her shoulder and his weight had crushed the breath from her. ‘I hate you! You are a barbarian and a savage!’

Yet even as she lay beneath him and gazed into his fierce eyes, she felt the pull of his power and charm. He was not what she had named him, for if he had been she would have been treated more harshly. Her breath caught in her throat and she experienced a strange longing—a desire to be held in his arms and comforted.

Comforted by this man! What foolish idea was that? Her wits must be addled!

‘It was your own fault,’ he said as he pulled her roughly to her feet. ‘You were foolish to try and run from me—there are worse things than being in a harem. You would have been taken a dozen times before this night was out and worse…’

‘Nothing could be worse!’ She flung the words at him. ‘You will never take me willingly. No man will take me willingly…I shall fight to my last breath.’

‘Then you will suffer,’ Suleiman replied, his features harsh and unforgiving. ‘If I wanted you…and I do not think you worth the bother…I would soon have you eating from my hand like a dove.’

‘Hawks kill doves for their food,’ Eleanor retorted. ‘And you are a hawk—wild and dangerous.’

Suleiman’s anger faded as swiftly as it had flared. He considered her words a compliment rather than the insult she had intended and was amused. He smiled and took her arm, leading her firmly back to where the litter and horses were waiting.

‘I’m not going to wear that thing,’ Eleanor said as she saw that one of his men had picked up her cloak. ‘And I am not going to be carried in that stupid litter.’

‘Then you will ride with me,’ Suleiman said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘And you have only yourself to blame for this, Eleanor.’

He picked her up and flung her over his saddle so that she lay face down, then mounted swiftly before she could attempt to wriggle free. His knees were pressed against her, the reins firmly gripped above her head and she knew she could not free herself.

‘You devil! Let me down at once! You cannot treat me like this! I am a lady…if you know what that means.’

‘Be careful, Eleanor,’ he warned, but there was laughter in his voice. ‘I may have to beat you if you continue to flaunt my orders. My men are watching and I cannot allow a woman to dictate to me. You will lie there quietly until I decide to let you up—or you will be sorry.’

As he kicked his horse into a sudden canter at the same time as he spoke these words, Eleanor was unable to do anything. She was fuming, but she was also very uncomfortable. How dare he do this to her? She was indignant.

‘You are a brute,’ she muttered into the blanket that lay beneath his leather saddle. ‘I hate you. You are just like those murdering pirates who killed my father. I would have killed them if I could—I will kill you if I get the chance!’

‘Speak louder, Eleanor,’ Suleiman said. ‘I cannot hear you.’

She could hear the mockery in his voice and knew that he was laughing at her. He did not believe she could touch him—because he was too arrogant and sure of himself. He was accustomed to being obeyed instantly, and thought himself all-powerful. Well, just let him wait! One of these days she would make him sorry!

They had left the city walls behind before Suleiman stopped and lifted her into a sitting position, his arm about her waist pressing her to him, as much his prisoner as before. She had seen nothing but a blur of stone walls and dirt streets, keeping her eyes closed most of the time because she had been afraid of falling if she did not concentrate.

‘Is that better?’ he asked softly against her hair. ‘I am sorry, little bird. That was unkind of me—but you made me angry. Besides, I had to make sure you could not get away from me. Constantinople is a dangerous place for a woman—especially one as lovely as you.’

‘I know…Roxana told me.’ Eleanor was leaning back against him; she had been feeling dizzy when he raised her, but now the unpleasant sensation was beginning to fade and she was oddly comforted by the feel of his strong arms about her as they rode. ‘I would not have run…but I was afraid.’

‘You told me you were not.’

‘How could I not be?’ Eleanor turned her head to glance at his face. ‘You are going to give me to the Sultan. I cannot bear to be the concubine of a man I do not know—a much older man…’

‘Would you prefer to be my concubine?’ Suleiman whispered huskily against her hair, his voice so soft and low that she was not sure she had heard him correctly.

‘I—I do not—’

What she was about to say was lost, for one of Suleiman’s men gave a warning shout and, looking over his shoulder, Suleiman cursed. A small group of black robed men were riding fast towards them.

‘Bandits,’ he said. ‘Hold tight, Eleanor. If you are taken by these men, you will wish you had died…’

Suleiman kicked at his horse’s flank and they set off at a tremendous pace across the open countryside. She could see the pinkish stone walls of a great sprawling palace looming up ahead of them in the gathering darkness. Behind her she heard shouting and screaming as Suleiman’s men joined battle with the bandits to allow him to reach the palace in safety, and then, as they drew close to the huge wooden gates they opened and a small troupe of horsemen raced out to join the escort guards.

‘You are safe now, little one,’ Suleiman whispered in her ear. ‘You must not be afraid. Do what the women tell you and no harm will come to you. I give you my word.’

‘The word of a barbarian?’

‘The word of Caliph Bakhar’s son,’ Suleiman replied. ‘You will discover soon that that means more than you might imagine…’

Eleanor waited as he leapt down from his horse’s back and lifted her to the ground. Men had come running, and also an older woman dressed all in black. At a command from her master, she took Eleanor’s arm and led her away. Eleanor looked back and saw that Suleiman had mounted a fresh horse. He was going back outside the gates to fight with his men. She wanted to stop him, to beg him not to risk his life, but he would not have listened. She was nothing, merely a slave he had bought as a gift for another man.

‘What is happening?’ she asked the old woman, who was pulling at her arm. ‘Is the palace being attacked? Why has Suleiman gone back out there?’

The woman shook her head, clearly not understanding a word she said. Eleanor tried the same question in French, but there was no response.

The woman began to talk to her in what was probably Arabic. Eleanor thought she recognised a few words, but was not certain—though it was obvious that the woman wanted Eleanor to go with her. There was no point in resisting any further for the moment; besides, all the fight had suddenly gone out of her. Oddly, her fears at this moment were more for the man who had brought her here than for herself.

He had told her she would not be harmed if she did as the women told her and somehow she believed him. But what of him? It was obvious that those men who had followed them were armed and dangerous—would Suleiman be killed in the fighting? She suddenly discovered that the thought appalled her.

Nothing must happen to Suleiman Bakhar! He was her only chance of ever being allowed to return to her family. She had called him a savage and a barbarian, but in her heart she knew he was not that—though she did not know what kind of a man he really was. He looked fierce and proud, and undoubtedly he was—but she believed there was a softer side to him. If she could reach that inner core, then there might be a faint hope for her…nothing must happen to him.

‘May Allah keep you safe,’ she whispered. ‘And may God be with you this night.’

Let her prayers be heard by his god or hers. It did not matter at this moment as long as he lived. For, despite her attempts to escape him, and her anger at the way she had been treated, something deep inside her told her that she had been fortunate to be bought by this man…

‘Allah be praised!’ Caliph Bakhar said when they brought him the news that Suleiman had returned to the palace triumphant with his prisoners, who would be speedily dispatched the next morning at dawn. ‘These bandits have been a thorn in my side for too long. My son has done well.’

He had been furious that Suleiman had put his own life at risk, but now that he was safe and the bandits taken, the Caliph’s pride knew no bounds. Suleiman was a worthy son!

‘Ask my son to eat with me this evening,’ Ahmed Bakhar said to the chief eunuch. ‘I wish to tell him of my pleasure in his victory.’

Suleiman was emerging from his bath as the request was brought to him. He frowned, wrapping himself in a large white towel and waving the slave away.

‘Tell my honoured father that I will come soon,’ he said. ‘Ask him to forgive me that I do not come at once.’

Another eunuch was waiting to help him dress. He allowed the creature to help him on with a simple white tunic and trousers. He would put on his costly robes when he went to his father’s apartments—but for the moment he must visit the injured. His men had fought bravely against the bandits and one had died. Suleiman must make arrangements for him to be given a funeral worthy of a hero, and for recompense to be sent to his family.