Bought for the Harem

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.

In the Caliph’s household the slaves were treated fairly and some might earn their freedom in time; indeed, many men and women sold themselves into slavery rather than die of starvation on the streets. Kasim himself had learned how fair the system could be. He was now a wealthy man in his own right, most of his fortune earned from trading and importing goods from other lands. He trusted his captain to obey his orders, and thus far his trust had been repaid. Perhaps one day he might leave the Northern Territories and push the boundaries of his empire, but for the moment he was content to live at the palace and give his loyalty to the Caliph. He owed everything to the man who called him his son—and indeed, he loved Kahlid as a benevolent friend. His son, Prince Hassan was his brother in all but blood.

Kasim thrust thoughts of giving in to Lady Harriet’s demands to return her to her family away. To go against the wishes of his friend and master would be to betray all the promises he had given … the trust that had built up between them would be destroyed. He would be a fool to throw away all he had worked for these several years.

Yet even as he changed into the clothes he found more comfortable than the dress of an English gentleman, lacing the leggings beneath his white tunic and tying the red sash about his waist, he could not quite banish the pleading look he had seen in those eyes.

‘How are you this morning, dearest?’ Harriet asked when her cousin woke and stared up at her from the tumbled sheets. ‘I think the second medicine that he gave you helped the sickness. You seemed to sleep peacefully after you drank it.’

‘I thought it was all a nightmare, but it is real, isn’t it?’ Marguerite pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘We are slaves, aren’t we? He said we belong to the Caliph …’ She gave a little sob of despair. ‘What are we going to do, Harry?’

‘We must bear it as best we can,’ Harriet told her. She saw tears well in Marguerite’s eyes and moved towards the bed, reaching for her hand. ‘Perhaps it will not be as bad as we fear, love. Kasim said the Caliph was a better man than the one who tried to buy us. He said we were lucky he was there.’

‘Lucky to be slaves?’ Marguerite brushed a hand over her eyes. ‘I would rather be dead.’

‘You should think carefully, dearest,’ Harriet said. ‘Would you rather be dead, truly? If we live, we may be rescued one day—I may manage to find someone who will let us be ransomed. If we die, that is the finish. We shall never see our homes or the people we love.’

Marguerite looked at her in silence. ‘I think …’ She shook her head. ‘You will think me foolish—but I believe I was falling in love with Captain Richardson and he with me.’

‘I do not think you foolish. He is young and handsome and he clearly liked you. Had you been given time to get to know him you might have loved him, Marguerite.’

‘Do you think he is still alive? Would the pirates have killed him—and my father? I do not think they would have surrendered easily.’

‘No, I am perfectly certain they would not, for they were trying to give us time to get away. It is a pity that the pirates saw what was happening and sent men after us.’ Harriet shivered. ‘Had we reached the shore, Don Sebastien Gonzales would have helped us I am certain.’

‘I wish he had never asked for me,’ Marguerite said suddenly angry. ‘If Papa had not been flattered by the proposal, we should still be in England.’

‘Yes, though I was thinking of travelling …’

‘I should never have left my home if I had guessed what could happen.’

Harriet sat on the bed beside her, reaching for her hand. ‘There is no point in wishing that we had not left home, dearest. We are here and must make the best of it.’

‘I do not know how you can be so cheerful.’

‘Weeping will not help. I am going on deck for some fresh air. Why don’t you wash your face and join me? There are some clean clothes for you to put on. Captain Kasim has been thoughtful enough to send water and these garments, also some fruit. The grapes are delicious.’

‘I want my own clothes …’ Marguerite pulled a face.

‘Some of these are quite pretty,’ Harriet said. ‘I chose white again, because I thought you might like the pink. If you do not wish to come, I shall go on deck for a little air.’

‘Are we not prisoners, then?’

‘We are free to go on deck. There is no escape, Marguerite. Even if you jumped into the sea they would come after you. Be sensible and wait until we are at the palace. I shall ask to speak to the Caliph and perhaps he will listen.’

Harriet left her cousin to decide whether she would get up or stay in bed. She climbed the small iron ladder to the deck above and hesitated as she stood looking about her. She had seen very little of the corsairs’ ship, because it had been dark when they were taken on board and she saw little shut away in the hold. This ship was very like an English ship, though most of the crew were Arab or perhaps Turkish. They glanced her way, but turned back to their work as the captain spoke to them in a language she did not understand.

He came to her then, looking at her oddly. ‘You should have used the veil to cover your hair, my lady.

It makes the men curious when they see you without a covering.’

‘Forgive me. I did not realise.’ Harriet’s cheeks were pink—she had known what the fine shawl was for, but had deliberately ignored it. ‘I was just admiring the ship—is it yours?’