Kitabı oku: «Captive Of The Harem», sayfa 4

He would have liked to send for Eleanor this evening, to talk to her—for he understood how strange it must be for a Western woman to suddenly find herself cast into an alien world. His mother had spoken to him of her own feelings when she first entered his father’s harem, and although she had been very different from Eleanor—a quietly spoken, gentle woman—she had feared what she did not understand.

‘I had been told that all Turks were savages,’ she had said to her son as they sat talking together during their privileged afternoons. ‘I was afraid that my new master would rape and beat me—but your father was kind and considerate and very soon I came to love him.’

Before he went to see his men, he must make sure that Eleanor was being treated as a woman of her class was entitled to be, even in a harem. She ought to have her own rooms and a servant to wait on her. He believed there was an Englishwoman in the palace…an old crone who had long since been put to work in the kitchens. She must be fetched and told to wait on her new mistress, and the older women must take care of Eleanor…prepare her for her new life.

He was not yet sure what her new life was to be. If she was not to be given to the Sultan he must find another gift…something rare and unusual that would pacify their illustrious master. For the moment he had other things on his mind. She would come to no harm within the palace—and he would have her sent for when he was ready to decide what to do with her.

Eleanor looked round the large chamber, which was the main one used by the harem for relaxing, talking and, perhaps, in the case of those concubines who did not have their own rooms, sleeping. There were divans covered in silks and satins, and piled with cushions for taking one’s ease, also little tables on which were placed what looked like dishes of nuts and sweetmeats, fountains that played into small pools and various chests or cabinets. One girl was strumming on a musical instrument, the music strange and sounding off key to Eleanor.

The women gathered in small groups, talking, whispering and looking at her curiously. None of them had as yet approached her though she had been sitting on a cushion since the old woman had brought her here and then vanished.

What was she supposed to do? After the terror of her capture and the drama of that ride to the palace, it all felt rather like an anti-climax, simply sitting here watching several lovely women idle the hours away. One girl was brushing the hair of another and braiding it with flowers or ribbons, others were painting their toenails with some kind of a dye—and one was having her body painted with a pattern in some black stuff.

At the far end of the room, Eleanor could see there was a door leading out to what looked like pleasant gardens. Was she allowed to go out there? She had certainly had enough of sitting here by herself. Oh, well, if it was forbidden, someone would stop her. She got up and wandered towards the door, thinking that the floors of mosaic tiling were very beautiful, as were some of the pierced screens that were painted in bright colours of red, blue and gold.

No one shouted at her to stop, so she went out into the garden. It was evening now and quite dark, but there were lanterns hanging amongst the trees and she was able to find her way along a winding path towards the sound of water. She found a stone seat by a pretty pool and sat down, staring into the darkness. Was she really going to be forced to spend the rest of her life in a place like this? If she were reduced to living the way the other women did, she would go mad.

Tears came to her eyes as she thought of her father and brother, and the evenings they had spent playing games of skill together. Her poor father! Her throat closed with emotion. How could she bear to live without the two people she loved most in the world?

Where was Richard? She had not seen him since they were both captured and did not even know if he were still alive. His fate was probably far worse than hers! She thought that he might have been tortured or beaten. Poor, poor Richard! She prayed that he was not in pain or desperately afraid. He was only a youth, and he would have had no chance against his captors. Her head went up as she renewed her vow not to give way to self-pity or despair. She would fight to survive and somehow she would win her freedom one day.

‘Are you there, my lady?’

The sound of a woman’s voice speaking to her in English brought her head up. How could that be? The old woman that had first taken charge of Eleanor and then abandoned her had not understood when she had tried to talk to her.

‘Who are you? Please come forward.’

A woman stepped out of the shadows and approached diffidently. She was obviously quite old, her face lined and her hair deeply streaked with grey.

‘I am Morna, my lady. I came to the palace many years ago as a gift to the Caliph, but he was never interested in me as one of his concubines because I was not beautiful. I was sent to the kitchens and I have worked there ever since.’

‘Morna?’ Eleanor looked at her. ‘I do not think I have ever heard that name before—it is pretty.’

‘My mother was English, but my father came from the hills of Wales,’ Morna replied. ‘I think it is an ancient Celtic name, though I cannot be sure.’ She smiled at Eleanor. ‘I am sorry Shorah deserted you earlier. I do not think she knew what to do with you, so she left you with the other concubines—and they ignored you because they were not sure why you were there either. It is dangerous to form relationships in the harem unless you know the status of those you befriend.’

‘Shorah—that is the old woman who took charge of me? I think she could not understand what I said to her.’

‘No, she understands only her native tongue,’ Morna replied. ‘When I was told you were here I was not sure I would remember how to speak English. It is so long since I have used our language—but as you see, it came back to me.’

‘Have you been here many years?’

‘Oh, yes, much of my life has been spent in this palace. But I am fortunate. I am not important, merely a servant—so I am allowed to come and go as I please. I visit the market to buy food and trinkets for the women sometimes. They repay me by giving me some of their food—so I live very well.’

‘Can you help me to leave the palace?’ Eleanor asked eagerly. ‘Is there any way I could escape?’

‘They would kill us both if you tried to leave,’ Morna told her gravely. ‘It seems that you have caught the eye of the Caliph’s son. You are to be given your own rooms and I am to wait upon you—as befits a lady of your rank.’

‘What does that mean?’ Eleanor asked. ‘Am I to stay here, then? I thought…’ She let the words die unspoken. Roxana had told her she would be lucky if Suleiman Bakhar kept her for himself, and she was beginning to believe that that might be the case. Better a young, intelligent master who spoke her tongue and might just be persuaded to let her go home, than the Sultan who would scarcely notice her amongst his other women. ‘No, it does not matter. You could not know what is in his mind. Please take me to my rooms. I am tired and I should like to sleep now.’

‘Would you like me to bring you food from the kitchens?’ Morna asked, sounding eager. ‘Surely you are hungry, my lady?’

Eleanor was about to reply that she had eaten earlier and was not hungry, but she realised that Morna might not get enough to eat and was hoping that some of her mistress’s food might be left for her.

‘Yes, bring me something,’ she said. ‘You can share it with me.’

‘Thank you, my lady. You are generous.’

Eleanor nodded, but did not reply. She supposed there were probably hundreds of servants in this vast palace, which sprawled over a large area of land and consisted of a mass of different buildings. Many of the slaves were probably forced to live on the scraps left by others. The world was a cruel place, especially for slaves, and she was angry that people like the Caliph and his arrogant son believed they had the right to dispose of the lives of others as they chose.

‘Where is the Caliph’s son?’ she asked. ‘Has he returned to the palace?’

‘Oh, yes, some time ago,’ Morna replied. ‘It is by his order that you have been given your own rooms.’

‘He has not asked for me?’

‘Our master’s son has not chosen a woman this night,’ Morna replied. ‘They say he is with the physicians who tend the wounded—and that he has spoken to the family of the man who died. The Janissaries are all Suleiman Bakhar’s friends. He trains with them every day. Sometimes there is much sport in the courtyard, and you may be allowed to watch him wrestling or fighting with the others if you are lucky.’

Eleanor was astonished. ‘Why should I wish to watch that barbarian at sport?’

‘Hush!’ Morna glanced over her shoulder nervously. ‘You should not say such things—ears may be listening. We are always watched in the harem. There are spies everywhere. Fatima will have heard that you have arrived by now and she will not be pleased that you have been given your own apartments.’

‘Who is Fatima?’

‘She is the lord Suleiman’s favourite. She rules the harem and all the other women are afraid of her.’

‘Why—what harm can she do them?’

‘Many unpleasant things can happen in this place,’ Morna warned. ‘Fatima is jealous of any woman she thinks might take her place as Suleiman’s chief concubine. She is hoping he will take her as his wife—but she has not yet given him a child, and they say he will not marry her unless she does.’

‘I have no wish to lie in Suleiman Bakhar’s bed,’ Eleanor said. ‘Besides, the other women will not understand what we say if we speak in English—will they?’

‘Most will not,’ Morna agreed, ‘but there are those who do—some of the eunuchs understand English, French or Spanish as well as many other languages. It is the eunuchs who spy on the harem all the time. Some do it from idle curiosity, some to discover what they can for their masters—but others have their own reasons.’

‘What do you mean?’ Eleanor looked at her curiously. ‘They…cannot desire a woman for themself, can they?’

‘No—not a true eunuch,’ Morna replied in a whisper. ‘But sometimes…no, I dare not say. It is forbidden and would cause trouble if it were discovered.’

Eleanor saw that the old woman was frightened and did not press her further, though she thought Morna must be hinting that the women were not as protected as their master imagined. It was clear that there were many mysteries and intrigues in the harem, and that life there was not quite as it had seemed as she’d watched the women amusing themselves earlier

Morna had led her to a room that was slightly apart from the main one that she had seen earlier. There were actually three small interconnecting rooms. One had a little pool for bathing and a place for relieving the bodily functions, one for sleeping (with a couch for her servant at the foot of her own divan) and one for sitting. All of them were luxuriously tiled and hung with silken drapes of pink and silver. There were cabinets of dark wood inlaid with silver, mother of pearl and small semi-precious stones, also stools and little tables.

‘The rooms are very nice,’ Eleanor said. ‘At least I shall be able to be private sometimes—but what am I supposed to do? What are my duties, Morna? Am I to be given no work—no occupation?’

‘The ladies of the harem are here to please their master,’ Morna replied. ‘You simply amuse yourself until you are called to the bedchamber and then…well, then you do as you are told, and smile if you do not wish to be beaten.’

A little shudder went through Eleanor. ‘That is truly a savage custom! I refuse to obey the whim of a man simply because he paid another man money for me.’

Morna shook her head at her sadly. ‘You will learn soon enough,’ she said. ‘I shall fetch food, my lady. You should eat and rest—for tomorrow you will meet the important women of the harem, and they will begin to school you for those duties you say you will not accept…’

Eleanor stared in frustration as the servant left her. She could not stay here! She would die of boredom. How could all those women out there be content to sit around and wait patiently until their master decided to send for them—and what if he never did?

What if she never saw Suleiman again? She would not be able to win her freedom unless she could persuade him to ransom her…

Fatima glared at the woman who had brought her the information that the new arrival had been given rooms of her own. She gave a little scream of rage and struck Shorah across the face, leaving a nasty red mark.

‘I told you to leave her with the other concubines. I gave orders that she was to be ignored!’

‘It was the order of Suleiman Bakhar himself,’ Shorah replied, her head bowed before the favourite, hiding the gleam of resentment in her eyes. ‘I had nothing to do with it, mistress.’

Fatima swore beneath her breath. Word had been brought to her that Suleiman had gone to the city to see a beautiful woman and that he had paid a fabulous price for her—but she had believed the woman was to be a gift for the Sultan. Now it looked as though Suleiman might be planning to keep her for himself. He might even take her as his wife…and that was a position Fatima wanted for herself. As a concubine she could be sold or given away to another man, but as the lord Suleiman’s wife she would be safe and ruler of the harem.

‘Is she beautiful?’ she demanded suddenly of the old woman. ‘This new woman—more beautiful than me?’

‘No one could be more beautiful than you, mistress.’

Fatima nodded. She knew that her dark hair was shiny from all the oils rubbed into it, and her skin was soft and smooth to the touch, exuding a heavy perfume that was guaranteed to drive men wild. And her lord had shown himself no different from others in that respect. She spent most of her time bathing and being prepared for the moment she would be sent for—but Suleiman had not sent for her that evening.

It was most unusual. He always sent for a woman after he had won one of his games of skill—and he was always in a good mood at these times—but he had not sent for Fatima that night. Her one consolation was that he had not sent for the new woman either, choosing to waste his time in comforting the family of the man who had died, and in visiting the wounded.

Yet she feared this woman she had not yet seen. It was said that she was an English gentlewoman—and therefore more dangerous than any of the other concubines. Suleiman’s mother had been English, and Fatima knew that he had fond memories of his childhood.

Suleiman was hard to fathom. When he fought with the Janissaries, Fatima understood the excitement and his feelings of triumph when he won—and she knew that he was a skilled and passionate lover when he chose. However, he often spent his evenings talking, either with his teacher or his friends…they spoke of strange, intricate matters that Fatima would have found boring had she been allowed to listen. She was not, of course. Women were for pleasure, and when Suleiman sent for her she knew how to please him…except that he had not seemed pleased on the last few occasions he had sent for her.

Indeed, she had felt that he did not really want her, and that he would have preferred to be talking with his teacher. She had been glad when she learned the teacher had gone away, thinking that Suleiman would want her more often. Instead he had chosen to invite his friends from the Janissaries to eat and drink with him, and, though, he ordered the dancing girls to perform and he allowed his friends to take their pick of them, he had not sent for Fatima.

She had feared that her lord might have heard whispers concerning her and yet that could not be—he could suspect nothing, for her creature would have told her.

Fatima knew everything that went on in Suleiman’s private apartments, because she held one of the eunuchs in the palm of her hand. He was her dog, less than dirt to her because he was not a proper man—but he was also useful. She held the power of life and death over him, could expose him as a traitor to his master if she chose—and so he reported everything that went on to Fatima.

She would soon know what Suleiman intended for his new woman—and she would make her own plans accordingly.

Chapter Four

Eleanor was roused by the sound of a disturbance. She had been dreaming happily of a certain misty morning in England, when she had ridden out with her father, and was startled by the noise of screeching voices. Waking suddenly to the unfamiliar surroundings, she had wondered where on earth she was. As realisation dawned on her she was swamped with a feeling of intense unhappiness; then, before she could gather her thoughts, a very beautiful, dark-haired woman, dressed in a rich red tunic and pants embroidered heavily with silver and pearls, rushed into the bedroom.

‘How dare you tell your servant to keep me out?’ she demanded in excellent French. ‘No one tells me I may not enter anywhere within the harem!’

Eleanor stared at her as the mists of sleep began to clear, and she remembered what Morna had told her the previous night. This must obviously be Fatima, Suleiman Bakhar’s favourite concubine—and she was clearly in a temper.

‘I believe you would not appreciate a visit from me without some warning?’ Eleanor replied in the same language Fatima had used. She lifted her head proudly and assumed the haughtiest manner she could. ‘While you are always welcome in my apartments, Fatima, politeness shows good breeding.’

Fatima’s mouth opened in surprise. No one addressed her in such a manner! Had they dared, she would have ordered Abu to flog them. For a moment she could not speak, then her dark brown eyes narrowed to suspicious splits, and she was tempted to order this woman beaten, but caution held her back. Suleiman had only recently bought her, and he might notice if her skin were accidentally marked.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded imperiously. ‘And why are you here?’

‘Because I was brought here much against my will,’ Eleanor said, remaining calm despite her instant dislike of the other woman, ‘I have no wish to be in this place and would leave this minute if I could. Believe me, I am no threat to you, Fatima—nor would I wish to be. My only desire is to be returned to my home. I am the daughter of an English baronet, and my family is wealthy—they will be searching for me even now.’

Fatima’s dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, her lovely face still reflecting sullen anger. ‘How do you know who I am?’

‘I have been told of Suleiman Bakhar’s beautiful favourite,’ Eleanor said. ‘Who else would you be?’

Fatima nodded. Put that way, it sounded like a compliment. She knew that the other women were afraid of her—and that the servant woman Morna was firmly on this upstart’s side. Before long, the women of the harem would start to take sides, especially now that this Englishwoman had been given special status. They would believe that Fatima had begun to lose Suleiman’s favour, and once that happened they would not hesitate to follow a new leader. That could be dangerous for Fatima, for she had enemies who would use any chance to strike at her. Perhaps it would be wiser to get to know this woman better.

‘Tell your servant not to bar my way in future—but do not punish her. She will be no use to you if she cannot work.’ Fatima’s expression changed subtly. ‘I do not like to be thwarted, but if you truly mean that you do not wish to become Suleiman’s favourite, we may be friends. You are more my equal than any of the other women here. I am the daughter of a French nobleman and an Arab dancing girl. Until my father was lost at sea we lived in a beautiful villa in Algiers, then my mother was cast out and she sold herself to a master so that we could live. I was trained all my life to give pleasure to the man who would one day own me…that is why Suleiman sends always for me. I am the only one who really knows how to please him. He will never put me aside for another.’

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ Eleanor said immediately. ‘I have no wish to be bad friends with you, Fatima. Nor do I wish to be sent for in the way you speak of. Indeed, if you could help me to escape, I would leave the harem.’

‘That is impossible,’ Fatima said and frowned. ‘We can none of us leave here unless Suleiman grants us freedom.’

‘Does that ever happen?’

‘Sometimes…’ Fatima gave her a long hard look. ‘The Caliph would have freed Suleiman’s mother after she gave him a son, but she preferred to stay here and became his favourite wife. They say he still mourns her.’

‘Tell me more about her, please?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ Fatima’s mood altered once more. She would tell this woman nothing that might help her to secure Suleiman’s favour. ‘I have no time to talk with you. I came only to make sure you understood your place here…’

Eleanor watched as the other woman left the room abruptly. It was clear that Fatima still did not trust her; she probably imagined Eleanor was scheming to become Suleiman’s wife.

‘Forgive me,’ Morna said as she came in after the favourite had left. ‘I could not stop her bursting in on you. I told her you were sleeping, but she would not listen to me.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Eleanor replied. ‘Do not risk her temper again, Morna. Just ask her to wait one moment while you wake me—but it was unusual for me to sleep so deeply. What time is it? It feels as if half the day has gone.’

‘You were exhausted,’ Morna replied. ‘The refreshing drink you enjoyed last night was a tisane I made to help you pass a peaceful night. I knew that you needed rest or you might have lain awake all night thinking and weeping.’

‘That was a kind thought,’ Eleanor said, ‘but do not give me such a drink again unless I request it.’

Eleanor had been sitting up against a pile of silk cushions, but now she put her feet to the floor, a feeling of hope and determination surging through her. She had been at the edge of despair when Fatima broke in on her so rudely, but for some reason the other woman had aroused her fighting instincts. She was not going to be put down by Fatima or anyone else! Nor did she wish to be lulled into a false sense of security by drugging drinks designed to dull her senses. She did not wish to be here and she would escape or win her freedom some other way if she could, but until then she would set herself to making what she could of her life.

‘Is it possible to have writing materials brought to me, Morna?’

‘Perhaps…but you would not be allowed to send a letter to anyone, my lady.’

‘It is not for writing a letter,’ Eleanor said. ‘I must have something to occupy my mind or I shall go mad. I thought that perhaps you would teach me the language and customs you have learned. I could write the words down and practise them when I am alone.’

‘I could bring you a slate and marker,’ Morna said. ‘We have them in the kitchens for noting down what is needed from the markets—but pen and paper would have to be authorised by the eunuchs.’

‘And how do we ask them for things?’

‘Fatima is usually the one to approach,’ Morna said. ‘But you have been given rooms and a servant of your own…you might be given other things if you ask.’

‘Bring the slate for the moment,’ Eleanor said. ‘We can begin my lessons after I have bathed and eaten. What shall I wear? Surely I do not need all the garments I was made to wear yesterday?’

‘Karin brought clothes for you earlier,’ Morna said. ‘She is the most important woman after Fatima…but much older. If Suleiman’s mother still lived, she would rule over his harem until he took a chief wife, but Karin is one of the Caliph’s older wives. She was visiting with relatives yesterday, but you will meet her later today. She will explain many things to you, much better than I could, my lady.’

‘Very well.’ Eleanor smiled at her. ‘It was very fortunate for me that you were here, Morna. At least I feel that I have one friend in the palace—one person that I may trust.’

‘I am happy to be your servant, my lady.’

‘I would rather that we were friends,’ Eleanor said and smiled. ‘We must try to help each other, Morna. If there is something I can do for you—you must tell me.’

‘I am always hungry,’ the old woman replied. ‘All I ask these days is food to eat and somewhere to sleep. To serve you, my lady, is much easier than the work I was put to in the kitchens.’

Eleanor nodded. ‘Then I shall see that you share my food—and if ever I am able to leave here, I shall try to take you with me.’

‘No, I do not wish to leave,’ Morna replied. ‘I have no life other than here. I am content to remain in the Caliph’s household until I die…there is nowhere for me to go now. I am too old. I should be forced to beg on the streets for my food.’

Eleanor’s eyes stung with tears as she turned away. How sad that this woman’s life had been wasted in such a terrible way. Morna’s hopelessness made Eleanor even more determined that whatever was forced upon her, she would not let herself become enslaved…

Suleiman spent the morning exercising with the Janissaries. After he had bathed and received a brisk massage from one of the eunuchs, he ate sparingly of dates and rice mixed with spiced lamb, then drank several cups of the rich dark coffee he enjoyed. The afternoon stretched emptily before him, and he felt the loss of his old teacher keenly. There must be other clever men, with whom he could share a pleasant afternoon, but Saidi Kasim had understood him so well, and they had been friends. There were few within the palace that Suleiman could truly call his friends—he could not even be sure of the loyalty of his half-brothers Bayezid and Hasan, for there was always rivalry between the sons of important men.

Suleiman’s thoughts turned towards the woman he had brought to the palace the previous evening. She would have spent the morning with Karin, being taught how to behave in the harem, and what to expect of her new life. It was too soon to send for her if he expected her to please him as the other women did—and yet he wanted to speak with her.

All at once, Suleiman realised that he did not want her to be the same as the other women. He would send for her now and talk to her himself, explain that he would like to know her better before she became one of his concubines…no, perhaps his wife.

Suleiman must marry soon and give his father the grandsons the Caliph longed for, and Eleanor was the only woman he had so far found that he deemed fit to be the mother of those sons. She had spirit and intelligence, and she would surely accept her fate if it were properly explained to her. He would tell her that she was to be honoured above all the other women, and that he would give her time to adjust to her new life. She had accused him of being a barbarian, but he would show her that she was wrong.

He was pleased with himself as he summoned the eunuch and told him to send for Eleanor.

‘She is to be brought to me at once,’ he ordered. ‘There is to be no ritual of the bath—no special pampering.’

The eunuch nodded and went away to execute his master’s orders, which were most unusual. Indeed, no woman had ever been sent for in such a manner. Suleiman always made his choice early in the afternoon and the woman was prepared for him in the time-honoured way—to send for her so abruptly must mean that she was to be punished. Which would please Fatima, of course.

A little smile touched Abu’s mouth. It would not suit him if Fatima were to be displaced by this new woman. Fatima was a bad-tempered, spoiled cat—but she suited Abu. She believed she held the power, and he allowed her to dictate to him while she kept his secrets. It was an arrangement that gave something to them both—and placed both in equal danger. For if Suleiman ever guessed what sometimes took place in the secret places of his father’s palace, both Fatima and Abu would be put to death.

So Abu would help Fatima to overcome the challenge of this new woman—and Suleiman had unwittingly helped them by showing his displeasure in this way.

Eleanor was fascinated as she listened to Karin talk of life in her country, telling her of simple family life and the way the common folk lived, which was very different from the noble lords in their rich palaces.

The older woman had come to her after she had bathed, taking her into a secluded corner of the gardens so that they could talk in private. Speaking in French, which was the foreign language spoken most often in the harem, she had told Eleanor a little of the history of the Turkish Sultans and their Sultanas, and found her an apt pupil.

‘I have been told that you speak three languages,’ she said in her soft, musical voice. ‘And that you may understand a little Arabic.’

‘I can read it a little,’ Eleanor said. ‘But I do not understand the language the other women speak…’

‘That is because they have so many different tongues and dialects and they have found their own way to communicate. The perfection of pure Arabic is only found in the written form, and that is what you have learned—but here you will soon begin to understand what is being said to you.’

‘I have asked Morna to bring writing materials so that I can write down the words and learn them when I am alone.’

‘But you must not spend all your time alone,’ the older woman told her. ‘You should learn to enjoy the pleasures offered you in this place, Eleanor. There are many more than you might imagine. Once you learn to relax you will enjoy having sweet oils massaged into your skin, and it is pleasant to bathe in the pools—there are large pools both in the garden and inside the palace. Also you may have music lessons and you may learn to dance if you choose; it is good exercise and a skill that may be helpful to you. The other women will be friendly towards you after I have spoken to them, and you may pass your time in playing games or helping each other to braid your hair.’