Bought for the Harem

For a moment hushed silence fell, then a voice in the crowd called out that he would pay twelve hundred for the women. Kasim waited to see if there were any more offers, then raised his arm.

‘I will pay fifteen hundred gold pieces.’

A hushed silence fell on the crowd as they waited to see what would happen next.

‘Sixteen hundred.’

‘Two thousand,’ Kasim said. This time there was no rival bid. It was a huge sum to pay for a slave, because no one counted the second woman. It seemed she refused to be parted from her companion, but she would learn to obey her master once she was taken to the harem, most likely as a body slave.

‘Sold to Kasim, master of the Caliph’s personal household,’ the slave owner said swiftly. He genuflected with reverence towards the man who had bid such a fabulous price. ‘May Allah bless your union and make you many sons, honourable lord.’

‘I will take them with me now.’

Kasim left his seat and walked down the steps leading to the block, then mounted it, moving closer to look his purchase over. Close to, the beauty was even more lovely than he had imagined. All she needed was some more becoming clothes. Kahlid would be pleased with what he had found. He frowned as he looked at her companion. The older woman met his gaze unflinchingly, her eyes intelligent and inquiring; they reminded him of a smoky haze in an English sky and he felt a little jolt low in his stomach. Suddenly, he was remembering his home and his childhood, when he had run free in the fields about his home. He banished the thought instantly. That life had gone for ever.

‘You are both English?’ he asked in their own tongue. ‘You have nothing to fear, ladies. I am Kasim, controller of the Caliph’s household and you are in my care. You have suffered a terrible ordeal, but from now on you will be cared for and pampered as ladies of the Caliph’s household.’

‘You speak English.’ The beauty looked at him in relief. ‘Please, will you ransom us? The price you paid will be repaid and you will be well rewarded for your trouble—won’t he, Harriet?’

‘My brother is Viscount Sefton-Jones of London, England,’ the older one said. ‘My cousin speaks truly, sir. We should be so grateful if you would ransom us to our families. I promise you would not lose by it for I have my own fortune. I would make certain your price was met.’

Kasim’s gaze narrowed as he looked at the one the beauty had named Harriet. He saw that she realised they had been bought for a fabulous price, though her companion seemed less aware of it.

‘Forgive me, ladies,’ Kasim said without a flicker of emotion in his face. Her voice had made a strong appeal and for a moment he was tempted to listen to her plea, but he crushed the weakness swiftly. To find another woman who was both English and beautiful might take many months, if it were even possible. ‘I am merely the Caliph’s servant. The money I must now pay to Ali bin Ahmed belongs to my royal master. I am not at liberty to ransom you, but my master may listen to your request for he is a just man. Come, there is nothing to fear. If you behave with dignity you will not be harmed.’

The beauty looked at him, then turned to her companion, tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Don’t let him take us, Harry. Please, don’t let him take us.’

‘He will not listen to us any more than the others.’ The older woman looked at Kasim with scorn. ‘We must do as he says for the moment, Marguerite. Try not to be frightened, my love. Perhaps the Caliph will be a reasonable man and show some compassion.’

Kasim inclined his head. There was something about her that commanded respect, and he wondered what she had said to the slave master. Few women managed to keep such men in check, but he thought he understood why the man had been in awe of her. As a youth he had met women like her, women who could command with a look or a softly spoken word. Her scorn made him feel a little uncomfortable for he knew that he did have a choice. He could turn his back on the life he had made for himself in the Caliph’s palace, and yet he was not truly free, for he had given his word when he was released from the slave quarters and made a trusted member of the household. He was free to come and go as he pleased, but it was a matter of honour to remain loyal to the man who had given him so much. His royal master treated him as another son, giving him honours, position and money. He was not going to break his word to the Caliph for a woman he did not know. Even so, he was vaguely uneasy as he steered the women away from the slave market towards the harbour where his ship awaited them.

He tried not to remember that he had once come from the same world as these two young women. Had it not been for an unfortunate quarrel with his father, he might still be living in England, leading the life of an idle wastrel with nothing to fill his days but gambling and fighting over the women he shared with his so-called friends.

It was one of those friends who had been the cause of Kasim’s downfall, and his subsequent lies that had led to the quarrel. Kasim had left England as a privateer looking for riches and adventure, but he had been shipwrecked and taken on board a corsair ship more dead than alive. He knew all about being sold and beaten, but fortune had led him to the Caliph’s palace, and his own bravery in saving the Caliph’s son from an assassin had made him what he was today.

Kahlid bin Ossaman had treated him with respect and fairness from that day to this. He would be failing in his duty if he did what the beauty asked, but he could not quite rid himself of a niggling feeling of guilt as he escorted the women to the harbour.

His ship was waiting to take them to Constantinople—or Istanbul as it was known throughout the Ottoman Empire. Once the women were safely locked in his cabin he would return and pay the slave master—and he would purchase the young boy Yuri for himself if it were permitted. He would do his duty and forget his personal doubts.

He had been given a commission, which he had fulfilled to the best of his ability. If the Caliph’s son did not find the beauty desirable the Caliph might indeed listen to the women’s pleas to be ransomed. He eased his conscience by reflecting that if they had been bought by the tribal chief who had tried to bid against him, their fate would be much worse than it was at present. The older one would have been beaten and, if she continued to resist, might have died a cruel death; the beauty might have preferred death to her likely fate at that devil’s hands. They were fortunate that he had been at the auction that day, though as yet they might not realise how close to disaster they had come.

Harriet looked about her as they were escorted through the port. It was teaming with people, dogs, donkeys and carts. All kinds of merchandise was being sold or loaded on to ships, and there was much confusion. She considered whether or not it would be possible to break away from the man who had bought them and disappear into the crowds. If he should be distracted for a moment, she might take the chance—surely anything would be better than simply allowing this man to make them slaves?

‘Do not even think of escape.’ A hand of iron gripped Harriet’s wrist. She jumped, feeling as if something seared her skin, and lifted her eyes to his. The look he gave her was angry, terrifying, because she felt he read her mind. ‘You are the Caliph’s property. He may have little use for you, lady, but I should pursue you both and take her back. You, I might leave to your fate. Think carefully what that means—you would not last long if I were not here to guard you in this place.’

‘What do you mean?’ She felt chilled as she saw the warning in his eyes.

‘There are men here who would think nothing of abusing you. They would fight over you like a pack of dogs, snarling and quarrelling to decide who had you next. You would be used until your spirit was broken and you died of some foul disease if you did not starve to death. Is that what you want—for yourself or your companion?’

‘No …’ Harriet shivered—there was something about him that reminded her of a dream that had frightened her the night before she left England. In the dream she looked into the face of a man and been very afraid, but she had not been able to recall the rest of the dream when she woke. ‘I want both of us to be free. We are English gentlewomen from good families. How could you think it right to buy us as if we were beasts of burden? You had no right to offer all that money. It was ridiculous.’

‘I was making a statement. I hoped none would bid against me. You were fortunate that my purse is deep.’

‘Fortunate?’ Harriet glared at him. ‘I do not consider myself fortunate to be sold as a slave.’

‘Had I not been there you would still have been sold, probably separately—and to a man who would have slit your throat if you defied him.’

‘No …’ Harriet felt chilled. ‘Can you not see that it is wrong to make a free woman a slave?’

‘I am not prepared to debate these things with you.’ His expression was forbidding. ‘You are not in England now. You must adapt to a different culture.’

‘Why? You can buy another woman for your harem. Why will you not let us be ransomed? I promise I will pay twice what you paid.’

‘It is not possible. I was commissioned to buy an English woman of beauty and intelligence. The fair one is a rare beauty. I am not at liberty to free you.’

‘No one would know.’

‘I should know. It is a matter of honour with me.’

‘What honour is there in making slaves of two women?’

A little pulse flicked in his throat, as if she had touched a nerve deep within him. ‘You will have comfort and a measure of freedom in the palace if you behave. Do not ask for more. You belong to the Caliph and I shall never let you escape. Yet in the harem you will be treated kindly enough if you behave in a sensible manner.’

Harriet raised her head proudly. ‘You could have let us be ransomed. If you had compassion or decency, you would sell us to our families and make a profit for yourself. You are nothing but a barbarian and have no honour—’

‘Be careful, lady. I have only so much patience, and you walk a fine line. If I wished, I could punish you.’

Harriet was silenced. She knew that she had risked punishment several times already. She had made the slave master fear her, but curses and insults would not sway this man. There was something harsh and commanding about him, something that made chills run down her spine—and yet when she looked into his eyes she almost believed that she could see compassion in their depths.

No, she must not allow herself to weaken. There was nothing soft or decent about this man. He was a savage, a barbarian, and she despised him and all his kind.

The cabin in which they had been housed was not uncomfortable. Harriet thought it might belong to the master of the ship. She was not sure, but by the way they had been greeted when they came on board ship she believed that the man with the blue eyes might own the vessel.

The suspicion made her feel angry and frustrated. Why could he not have taken them to England? If he was his own master, he could have set her and Marguerite free on payment of a generous ransom. She would willingly have repaid him what he had spent and more from her own fortune, though it would have meant she had none left for travelling.

A shiver went through her. After what had happened, she would never want to leave her home again. She wished that neither she nor Harriet had left the shores of England.

‘Harry …’ Hearing a wail of despair, Harriet turned to look at her cousin. Marguerite was vomiting, her gown stained with brownish liquid. ‘I feel so ill. My stomach hurts.’

‘Sit down, dearest. Is it the same as you felt when we had the storm?’

‘No, it is worse. I think the food they gave us in that terrible place was bad.’

‘Lie down on the bed and I will get help.’

Harriet went to the door of the cabin. She had expected that it might be locked, but found it opened at her touch. She went out into the narrow passage and looked to left and right, hoping that she might see someone.

‘Help … please help …’

‘There is no use in calling for help. No one will help you to escape.’

Harriet glared at the man with the blue eyes, raising her head proudly. ‘I am not foolish enough to imagine I could escape from a ship. Had I wanted to try I should have done so while we were in port. My cousin is ill.’

He stared at her, considering. ‘What ails her?’

‘She has been sick and she has pain in her stomach. I think the food we were given at the slave master’s compound was bad. I ate nothing but a piece of bread, but Marguerite was hungry and ate some meat.’

‘What kind of meat?’

‘I do not know. She said it tasted horrible.’

‘It was probably too well spiced. You would not have been given bad food. Your companion is too valuable to risk giving her bad meat.’

‘She is my cousin and I love her. Can you give her something to ease her?’

‘I may have something in my belongings that will ease her. Look in the sea chest in your cabin and you will find a small blue bottle. Three drops of the liquid inside mixed with water should ease her sickness, and the pain will go.’

‘You seem very sure?’

‘The remedy was given to me when I experienced similar sickness many years ago. I have kept it with me in case it was needed, though I have become accustomed to spiced food, as you will in time.’

‘I do not intend that we should stay in your country for long enough to become accustomed to anything. When I see your master I shall demand our freedom.’

For a moment a smile flickered in his eyes, as if he laughed despite himself, but then it vanished and his expression became hard once more. ‘I doubt that you will be noticed by the Caliph, lady—but even if you were, you would do well not to make any demands. Otherwise, you would soon find yourself in a place you would not wish to be.’

Harriet gave him a haughty look, turned and went back into the cabin. She opened the sea chest, found the small blue bottle and tasted one drop on her mouth. It was bitter, making her pull a face, but she knew it could not be poison, for the man with the blue eyes would not be so careless with the Caliph’s money.

Making up the medicine as she had been told, Harriet gave the cup to her cousin. Marguerite made a face as she swallowed it, but soon after she seemed easier and in a little while she had fallen asleep.

She was worn out with weeping. Looking at her with compassion, Harriet understood that her cousin was terrified of the future and with good cause. Her beauty would ensure that she would find favour in the eyes of the man for whom she had been bought. Harriet might spend her days as a servant if she were fortunate, but Marguerite would become a concubine.

Sinking to her knees, Harriet bent her head in prayer.

‘Please keep her safe,’ she whispered. ‘I can bear whatever happens to me … but please keep my cousin safe.’

Kasim was frowning as he went back on deck. The hellcat was living up to her name and he did not doubt that she would cause trouble in the harem. He felt a pang of conscience for he knew that it was within his power to set them both free. He could have found another woman for the Caliph’s son—or simply returned to the palace and reported his failure to find the right woman.

For a few moments he toyed with the idea of sailing for England, but then the bitter memories crowded in and he knew that he could never return to the life that had been his. He was settled in the palace and his life was not unpleasant. He would be a fool to throw away all that he had worked for, for the sake of a woman he did not know.

‘My lord Kasim …’ a voice called to him and he pushed the women from his mind.

Climbing to the bridge, he turned his mind to the voyage ahead. There were reasons why he needed to return to the palace. He must put away his vague feelings of guilt and concentrate on his duty.

Chapter Two

Harriet was bending over her cousin, bathing her forehead with cool water when the cabin door opened behind her. She swung round, feeling a little shock when she saw the man who had purchased them.

‘What do you want?’ she asked sharply, her heart racing. He had told her they were purchased for the Caliph, but the sight of him made her nervous—supposing he had decided to keep Marguerite for himself?

‘I came to see how your cousin was faring,’ he said and frowned as he sensed her apprehension. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, mistress.’

‘She is still unwell. Her skin is hot and she is sweating.’

‘Did you give her the medicine?’

‘Yes. It eased her for a while, but then she was sick again.’

He walked to the bed and placed a hand on Marguerite’s forehead. ‘She is warm. Perhaps you should sponge her down with cool water. I have heard it helps with a fever. She may have taken a fever rather than eaten something unpleasant. I imagine you were kept in a hold before you reached Algiers?’

‘Yes. It smelled foul and the air was dreadful. Your people have much to answer for, sir!’

‘The corsairs are not my people,’ Kasim replied, his eyes dark with thought. ‘You are not the only ones who have suffered at their hands. You will find life very different where you are going, for you will have the best of everything.’

‘We shall not be free.’

‘Were you truly free at home, Lady Harriet? If so, you are a remarkable woman. Most English ladies I knew were constrained by the rules of society and their families.’

‘You have been to England?’ Her eyes narrowed. His skin had a deep tan, but there was something about his features that made her wonder. ‘Are you English? Why are you here?’

‘You ask too many questions,’ he replied as Marguerite moaned. ‘I will mix another preparation for you—and then I shall leave you so that you can bathe her.’

‘Thank you.’ Harriet bent over her cousin, smoothing a damp cloth over her brow. She put an arm under Marguerite’s head as he returned with the cup, lifting her. ‘Drink this, dearest. It may ease you.’

Marguerite swallowed and lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed.

‘It will be a day or two before we reach port,’ Kasim said. ‘On board this ship you are free to come on deck if you wish. If you jumped overboard my men would fetch you back. I would ask you not to waste their time by trying to escape.’

‘Marguerite cannot swim,’ Harriet replied. ‘I would have tried to swim for the shore when the pirates took us, but she would have been left behind. I cannot desert her.’

For a moment his eyes met hers and she saw an odd expression in their depths. ‘You may not always be able to protect her. She is a grown woman and one day must choose for herself.’

‘She was going to Spain to meet a man who had asked for her hand in marriage, but she begged me to go with her. I think she was afraid that she might be compelled to marry against her will, but her father loves her. He would have let her choose—but she was anxious and I thought I might travel, see something of the world.’

‘Perhaps you have seen more than you would have wished. This is the world as it is, whether you and I like it or not,’ Kasim said, walked to the door and went out.

Harriet bent over her cousin once more. She pulled back the covers, bathing her limbs one by one, then, turning her on to her stomach, she lifted the tunic and bathed Marguerite’s back. She pushed back the loose sleeves of the kaftan and bathed her arms, then her face and neck. After that it seemed that Marguerite was easier.

Harriet watched her for a while, then went to look out of the porthole. The sky was dark, lit only by a few stars. She sighed and felt the sting of tears, but brushed them away impatiently as she went to lie down beside her cousin. Marguerite was sleeping and she was tired … so very tired.

You are mine. You shall always belong to me. There is no escape for you other than death. I have claimed you and you shall be mine.

Harriet woke shivering and damp with sweat. She had never experienced quite such a terrible dream before and it left her feeling very much afraid, and aware of a sense of terrible loss.

For a moment she lay in the darkness, wondering where she was, then everything came flooding back and she realised that she was on a ship being taken to the Caliph’s palace somewhere in the Ottoman Empire.

No wonder her dream had been so terrifying, because it was all happening, just as she had dreamed that night before they left England. This time she could recall that she had been a prisoner of the man who had said those terrifying words—and that man was the one who had bought them from the slave market. What had he called himself—Kasim? Yes, that was his name. He was a high official in the Caliph’s household and he had bought them for the harem.

The lantern had gone out while she slept and she had no means of lighting it again. Leaving the bed, she went round to the other side, bending over Marguerite to touch her forehead. Thankfully, she was cooler and seemed to be sleeping well.

Taking the lantern from its hook near the door, Harriet opened the cabin door and went out. She could see a faint light near the steps that led up to the deck and walked towards it, intending to see if there was sufficient candle left in the lantern to re-kindle it.

‘What are you doing? There will be a watchman on deck if you were thinking of escape.’

Harriet swung round. A shiver went through her as she saw that he was wearing a long loose white kaftan, his feet bare. Now he looked exactly as he had in her dream!

‘I told you that I would never leave Marguerite. The lantern went out as I slept. I was going to try to light it.’

‘Let me see …’ He took the lantern and opened the glass panel, then frowned. ‘It has burned down. Take this one instead and I will replace this.’ He handed her the lantern that had been hanging near the steps. ‘How is your cousin now? Has the medicine worked for her?’

‘Yes, I believe it has. She is sleeping peacefully.’ Harriet’s moment of fear had passed. In her dream he had been fierce and passionate, but standing close to her like this in what resembled a nightgown to her English eyes, he seemed no more frightening than her brother. ‘You were thoughtful to come and enquire, sir. I thank you for your kindness.’

‘It would be foolish to lose my investment, would it not?’

His words were like a slap in the face. For a moment Harriet had felt a closeness, almost a kinship with him. She looked into his face and, seeing that he was determined to go ahead with his plans for her and Marguerite, her heart sank.

She suspected that he had once been English and a gentleman, but it seemed he had forgotten his past and owed allegiance only to the Caliph. She had been foolish to imagine that he might change his mind and take them back to England.

Kasim frowned as he returned to his own cabin. He was not sure what had woken him earlier, but he thought he must have been dreaming of something he had long ago driven from his mind. Waking with a start, he had thought immediately of the two English women and gone in search of them. For a moment as he saw the dark-haired woman he had thought she was trying to escape and for some reason his stomach spasmed with sudden fear. Surely she would not throw her life away by jumping overboard? In the dark she could be lost. He felt a curious ache inside for a moment, but it faded swiftly as she explained about the lantern.

Usually, Kasim slept well, but this night he had been unable to rest. He tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with the women he had purchased. They were not the only ones to experience the distress of being bought and sold as slaves. Here in this part of the world it was an accepted custom and worked to advantage in many cases. It was true that some masters were cruel and treated their slaves worse than beasts of burden, but others were no worse than the men who owned great estates in England and Europe. The workers might not be called slaves, but were often treated no better. Justice was often summary and brutal. Men languished and died in the Queen’s dungeons, and many were put to the torture of hot irons and the rack.