The Love Slave Part 11

"Well, why can't I meet her, Mother? You were once a captive like she is. Is she nice, Karim? What is her name?" his sister demanded.

"Her name is Zaynab, and yes, Iniga, she is a very nice young woman, younger than you by a year, but unless Mother will allow it, you may not meet her. I will bow to her wishes in this matter."

Alimah was shaken by her daughter's reference to her own captivity. Of course Iniga was correct in one sense, but Alimah had not been a slave for close to thirty years. She had forgotten about it. Habib had freed her upon Ja'far's birth. Those brief years spent as a slave had easily faded in the light of her husband's love. Still, a Love Slave ... Iniga was so innocent.

"Please, Mother!" Iniga put forth her most bewitching smile.

Alimah, however, could not be moved as easily as the rest of her family by her daughter's charms. "I must first meet Zaynab myself," she said firmly. "When I have a.s.sessed her character, I will decide if she is the type of young girl I wish you to know, Iniga."

"A fair and equitable solution to the problem," Habib ibn Malik said with a broad smile. "As always, my dear, you are just."

Karim arose from his couch, was.h.i.+ng his hands in a basin of perfumed water and drying them upon a linen towel supplied by an attending slave. "I must return to I'timad," he said. "Zaynab and her servant, Oma, will need to be transported by litter to my villa."

"And Donal Righ's cargo?" his father asked.

"I will store it in my warehouse. I must purchase some Arabians and a few racing camels for the trip to Cordoba. Alaeddin will see to the unloading of my vessel."

"I'timad rides low in the water, my son. What cargo do you carry that is so heavy? Will there be room for the additional load?" his father wondered aloud.

"Donal Righ is sending, among other things, a dozen columns of green Irish agate," Karim explained. "That has been my ballast this return voyage. They will not be easy to present in procession."

"Must Donal Righ give the caliph racing camels, Karim? Everyone gives Abd-al Rahman racing camels. He has a huge herd of them. The Hall of the Caliphate at Madinat al-Zahra is huge. I saw it last year, it's a wonder! Why not let us seek out two dozen elephants. We will sling the twelve columns between the twenty-four great beasts. It will be quite a spectacle for both you and Donal Righ if you make such a presentation in the new hall."

"You have always been the cleverest of us all, Ayyub," Karim told his eldest brother admiringly. "Elephants it shall be! I shall have to have another vessel built to carry it all, but then I shall need a second s.h.i.+p once I become a respectable married man."

"Will you have time to build a s.h.i.+p?" his mother asked him.

"Aye, I will. Zaynab will need a full year's tutelage before she is ready to go to Cordoba. She is talented, but she must be perfect if she is to bring honor to Donal Righ, and to me."

"Is she Norse?" his mother asked softly.

"No," he said as quietly. "She is from Alba She was brought to Eire by a Norseman who raided the convent in which she was installed. If you ask her, Mother, she will tell you her history. She is not ashamed of it."

"She has pride?" Alimah queried.

"She was a n.o.bleman's daughter," he replied.

His mother nodded. A n.o.bleman's child, and one who did not go to pieces in her greatly altered circ.u.mstances. Her own father had been a wealthy farmer. She understood this Zaynab's strength, for she had it herself. She was now curious to meet the girl. "I will give your guest several days to recover from her voyage," Alimah said. "Then I shall come and meet her."

"And then I shall come and meet her," Iniga said brightly.

"If I permit it," her mother responded swiftly, and the others laughed. They all knew that unless Zaynab was totally unsuitable, Iniga would have her way in the matter.

Karim borrowed a litter, and bearers from among his father's household. Instructing them to go to his vessel, he crossed the garden again, letting himself out by the little gate into the street, which now bustled with the daily traffic. Small vendors carrying their wares moved through the streets, calling to their customers. Respectable women and their servants, properly veiled, moved gracefully along toward the main market square to shop for the variety of goods, both luxury and everyday, displayed beneath the gaily colored awnings shading the open stalls from the hot sun. Seeing a fruit seller, Karim stopped and purchased a large round melon, then hurried along to the harbor.

Alaeddin ben Omar had already begun overseeing the unloading of I'timad. The bales and bundles were being carried from the s.h.i.+p, down the gangway, and directly into the warehouse by a steady stream of black slaves. A winch and tackle was slowly lifting one of the heavy agate columns from the forward hold. Karim watched as it was carefully lowered to an open wagon, which was then hauled the short distance into the warehouse by three teams of st.u.r.dy mules. Once inside, another winch and tackle would remove it from its transport and lay it upon the floor in a pile of hay that had been placed there for each of the columns, to prevent their being scratched Karim boarded the vessel and spoke to his first mate. "Have the more portable valuables transported to my villa, the gold and jewels, and set a guard round-the-clock both there and inside and outside the warehouse, Alaeddin. Call me when the litter arrives."

"How is your father?" the first mate asked.

"Well! The whole family is well. Iniga informs me that she is preparing to wed, but I didn't get the details from her. There will be time for that, but Allah! Is she that old already?"

The mate grinned. "Aye, it just seems like yesterday she was a little girl with her golden pigtails flying about her, begging to come on a voyage with us. I remember carrying her on my shoulder. Who is the lucky man? Your father's rich, and could have his pick of husbands for her."

"He is allowing her to marry for love," Karim answered. "Iniga is the baby, the only daughter, and doted upon by us all. None of us would see her unhappy. She is a fortunate girl." He clapped his first mate on the back. "You have done a good job with the unloading, my friend."

Entering the cabin, he held up the fruit for Zaynab and Oma to see. "This," he told them, "is a melon. I bought it in the market for you on my return from my father's house." He plunked it down upon the table and, removing his knife from his sash, began to slice it for them. After handing them pieces of the juicy fruit, he looked for comment.

Zaynab bit into the melon and chewed. Another bite followed, and then another. "Ummmm." she said approvingly. "It's delicious!"

Oma nodded in agreement. Her little tongue caught at a droplet of juice.

"Do you have other fruits like this melon?" Zaynab asked him, placing the rind upon the table and reaching for another piece.

"Oranges, bananas, pomegranates, apricots, figs, and grapes," he told her. "I will see you get to taste them all, my flower."

"I thought grapes were for making wine," she answered him.

"And for eating, my adorable little savage." Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her mouth swiftly. She sighed, and he laughed. "You are hot for a wench from such a cold clime," he teased her, and nibbled upon her earlobe.

Oma turned away blus.h.i.+ng, but Zaynab said, "Such a deduction, my lord, would lead one to believe that you, being from a warm clime, would therefore be of an opposite nature, but you are not, I think."

"Nay," he murmured, pressing his length against her so she might feel his rising desire. "I am every bit as hot as you, Zaynab, my flower." His hands cupped her b.u.t.tocks, drawing her even harder against his body. "Now!" he whispered in her ear. "Send Oma away, for I want to make love to you now." He buried his face in her soft neck.

To his great surprise, she squirmed from his embrace and stepped away from him. "How unseemly of you, my lord," she said in cool tones. " 'Tis neither the time nor the place for such love sport. Is not the litter here to transport us to your villa? How I long for a bath," she concluded with a feigned sigh.

Astounded, he could only gape at her for a moment, and then yanking her back toward him, he forced his hand into her caftan. "Your heart is thundering wildly," he said, and then releasing her, he began to laugh. "Magnificent, Zaynab! A truly incredible performance! I am proud of you, my beauty. 'Twas well done! Allah help the caliph in the presence of a woman who can practice such wiles. Your look is calm and elegant. No one would ever know you are as filled with l.u.s.t as I am at this very moment." A knock sounded upon the cabin door, and Karim called, "Enter," though his manhood was still throbbing with his desire for her.

The door swung wide and Alaeddin said, "The litter is here, Karim. Your father also sent a horse for you to ride."

"Oma," Karim said, "you will find streetwear for both you and your mistress in that small chest at the foot of your bed."

The young girl drew forth two black, all-enveloping garments. She helped Zaynab into one, and drew the other over her own form. Then looking at her mistress, she began to giggle. "We look like a fine pair of old crows, lady. Why, only our eyes are visible."

"Which is as it should be for respectable women," Karim said. "Only women of questionable virtue and easy morals walk the streets showing their faces, their bodies, and their hair. In these robes every woman is like another, rich or poor. No man will ever approach a woman so garbed, or even attempt to attract her attention. In fact, it is a crime punishable by death. These robes offer you total safety."

"Must they be black? They are so ugly," Zaynab said.

"Black is modest," he answered. "Come now. The day is growing hotter, and the bearers are waiting in the sun. Even the most menial slave should be treated with courtesy if he is obedient and works hard."

The two girls followed Karim al Malina from the s.h.i.+p's cabin.

"Keep your eyes lowered," he ordered them softly. "No reputable female makes eye contact with a man not her master, Zaynab. Male slaves, and eunuchs, of course, are not considered men."

His words absolutely amazed her. And what was a eunuch? Coming from what now seemed a plain and simple world into this new and complicated one made her feel like a small child in many ways. There was so much she didn't know. There was so much to learn. She wanted to learn it! Her previous life as the unwanted twin had not offered her any perquisites of note. She had been tolerated mainly because few could tell the difference between her and Gruoch; because there was always the terrible chance that Gruoch might die young, and she would then be needed to take her sister's place.

Now, suddenly, life had placed amazing choices before her. She was a slave, true, but she was young, beautiful, and fair-haired. That was, she knew, the most valuable sort of slave in al-Andalus. Alaeddin ben Omar had told them this morning that often dishonest slave merchants would kidnap simple country girls and bleach their hair in an effort to palm them off as northern captives. The ruse was generally discovered, but by then more often than not the slaver had disappeared. And woe betide the poor maid who, unless she had had the time to ingratiate herself into her master's affections, found herself back on the block, her value greatly reduced.

Zaynab, however, would not have that problem. She had already accepted her fate. Now she must strive to become the most fascinating, the most seductive, the most desirable Love Slave ever trained in the erotic arts. The caliph was, she had reasoned, a very powerful man. Even this wonderful city of Alcazaba Malina owed him fealty and paid him homage, she had learned. To capture the affections of such a man would a.s.sure her a wonderful life. Could she do it? She wanted to, yet how could she love another man when she loved Karim al Malina? There! She had admitted to herself what she would admit to no other. She was in love with him. Yet he could never know. It would only anger him. He would send her away from him, perhaps to another Pa.s.sion Master. It was a horrific thought.

A year. He had said he would keep her for a year before taking her to Cordoba, to the man who would become her master. Who knew what could happen in a year? Perhaps the caliph would die. Then Karim al Malina would not be bound by honor to send her away. Then perhaps he would keep her. He had said he wanted to take a wife and settle down. Had he not told her during the voyage that his own mother had been a captive? And Oma. Oma might have a chance to wed with her black-bearded Alaeddin, whom she had neatly kept at bay all this time. How different their lives would be were it not for this Abd-al Rahman.

Neither Zaynab nor Oma had ever seen a litter before. It was a wonderful vehicle, more than large enough for the two girls. It was built of fragrant camphor wood, gilded, and painted with a delicate floral motif. The interior was upholstered in soft, honey-colored leather, and filled with brightly colored silk cus.h.i.+ons. The litter was hung with diaphanous silk curtains, pale apricot in color. Twelve coal-black male slaves of identical height, in simple white loincloths, their skulls shaven, their necks encircled with solid silver collars studded with turquoise, stood waiting patiently.

The girls were helped into their transport. The slaves picked it up as if it and its occupants weighed naught. They padded off out of the harbor area, but did not go through the city. Instead they hurried with their burden along a road bordering the harbor that led out into the countryside. The road they traveled was paved in smooth stone and bordered by tall elegant trees, which Karim told them were called palms as he rode by their side on the horse his father had sent.

The countryside about them was a broad green coastal plain that seemed to stretch for miles. It was framed by mountains on two sides; the Er Rif to the southeast, and the Atlas range to the northwest. There was snow visible on the high purple peaks even from a distance. A river, the Oued Sebou, opened into the harbor. The river, Karim explained, was used to irrigate the plain, which was planted with neat fields of barley and wheat.

They followed the road several miles from the city, finally turning down a dirt road. Rounding a curve in the path, they saw Karim al Malina's villa, a beautiful white marble building set amid a magnificent garden. Beyond, the blue sea gleamed in the sunlight. The bearers moved through the open gates into an inner courtyard and set the litter down.

Karim dismounted from his horse and drew the litter's curtains open, handing out the two girls. "Do you like it?" he asked them.

They looked about them, and Zaynab said, "It's wonderful!" Her eyes lit upon a fountain in the courtyard's center: a pale pink basin resting upon the backs of six silver gazelles set in a circle. It was filled with creamy water lilies. "How marvelous, my lord," she said softly. "Is it all like this?"

"You will judge for yourself, my flower," he replied, leading them into the house.

A tall light-skinned black man came forward as they entered. "Welcome home, my lord Karim," he said.

"It's good to be home, Mustafa," his master replied. "This is the lady Zaynab, and her servant, Oma. In a year's time the lady will be presented to Abd-al Rahman. She is a gift from Donal Righ, the merchant with whom I trade in Eire."

Mustafa immediately understood. He was surprised that his master had taken another student after the tragic Leila. Still, his smooth face remained impa.s.sive. "I will see the lady is made comfortable, my lord."

"Go with Mustafa, my jewel. He will take you to the women's quarters. I will join you later, after I have bathed."

They followed Mustafa from the entry hall down a light-filled corridor that led into another wing. Pa.s.sing through double ebony doors, they entered the women's quarters, which Mustafa explained were smaller than those usually found in a well-to-do man's home. This was because Karim al Malina used this villa for one purpose alone. He could deal with only one woman at a time in such circ.u.mstances. The two girls looked at each other and swallowed back their laughter.

"You will have the services of a ma.s.seuse, bath attendants, and seamstresses at your disposal, my lady. Some evenings you will take your meal with the master. If he wishes to see you, you will be brought to him. If he does not, you will eat here in your quarters with your servant Do you understand?"

"Of course my mistress understands you," Oma said sharply as Zaynab turned silently away from Mustafa to explore their new surroundings.

"Do these quarters have their own bath?" Oma demanded.

"Naturally," he responded haughtily.

"Then send the bath attendants and the ma.s.seuse at once, Mustafa. My mistress and I have not had the opportunity to bathe in all our weeks at sea. I am certain we must reek of sweat. The master has ordered that my lady wear gardenia fragrance, for it suits her."

"At once," Mustafa said, recognizing in Oma an upper servant of the first degree. He was impressed that this Love Slave had her own servant. She was obviously a girl of n.o.ble blood, and not some insignificant little peasant's get. He inclined his head slightly in Oma's direction, acknowledging her position, and departed.

When the door had closed behind him, Oma giggled softly as Zaynab said, " 'Twas nicely done, my girl."

"I but took my direction from you, my lady. I think I see how to get on with the other servants. You have status, and therefore I do too. I must be mannerly and proper, but I must never let any of the others lord it over me, else you lose stature."

"You must be deferential to the slaves serving persons of higher rank than mine, however," her mistress counseled. "We cannot give anyone an excuse to harm us. There may even be those who will help us. Come now, Oma, and let us investigate our new home."

The room in which they stood was square. Its walls were a blush-colored marble, as was its floor. Upon the floor were coverings they later discovered were called carpets. They were blue and red, and soft beneath the feet. In the center of the room was a small square pool of pink and blue marble in which several gold and silver fish were swimming. In the middle of the pool a crystal spray of water thrust upward, sprinkling clear droplets back onto the surface of the water. There were chairs, and several pieces of furniture that Mustafa told Oma were called couches, as well as tables and standing bra.s.s lamps that in the evening burned scented oil. The room opened out into a small walled garden.

There was a hallway off the main room, leading to several other rooms: one large bedchamber, two smaller bedchambers, and the bath. The main bedchamber also opened into the garden. It had a beautiful bed set upon a dais, its feather mattress upholstered in turquoise-blue cotton of the best quality, its coverlet of turquoise silk and cloth-of-gold stripes, and it was strewn with coral and gold-colored silk pillows. The floor was covered with several small rugs scattered about. There was a couch for napping by the doorway to the garden, which could be shuttered in inclement weather. The tables were made from camphor wood, polished, their carved legs lightly gilded. The walls were plain marble; the room was elegant yet simple.

As they stood admiring it, slaves began arriving with their chests. The two girls moved on to the baths, but not before Oma had seen that her chest was put in the smaller chamber across the hallway from her mistress. Arriving at the bath, they found the attendants ready and waiting for them. Gratefully, they let the slaves do their work; allowing their garments to be taken, their bodies rinsed with clean warm water, soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed once again. They rested in a scented pool for several minutes, and then the bath mistress asked to be permitted to wash their hair.

"Do Oma first," Zaynab told her. "I am enjoying the water too much. It has been so long."

The bath mistress nodded sympathetically, signaling Oma to come. When the girl's brown hair had been washed, she called to Zaynab, who reluctantly came, rising gracefully from the pool to walk across the bath. The other slaves gazed admiringly at the girl.

"You are the most beautiful Love Slave our master has ever trained," the bath mistress said frankly as she washed Zaynab's hair. "Aiyee! Look at these tresses," she enthused, finis.h.i.+ng with a lemon rinse to bring out the highlights in the girl's hair. "Never have I seen such a color! It is gold, yet silvery as well. Gilt! Your hair is the color of gilt! What a lucky girl you are, my lady Zaynab. Do you know who your master will be yet?"

"The caliph," was the quiet reply.

"The caliph?" There was awe and admiration in the bath mistress's voice, and the bath attendants were wide-eyed at Zaynab's words. "Aiyee! The caliph! Of course, the caliph," she continued. "You are fit for him and no one else, lady. Allah has blessed you greatly that you are to go to Cordoba and become a Love Slave of the caliph." She brushed the girl's hair over and over and over again, until it was finally almost dry. Then she rubbed it with silk in the same manner until it gleamed. Affixing Zaynab's hair atop her head with tortoise-sh.e.l.l pins, she said, "You are ready for the ma.s.seuse, lady."

A cotton mat was laid atop a low table, and Zaynab lay upon it facedown. The ma.s.seuse, a tall Slavic girl, began to lave gardenia oil in great, sweeping strokes over Zaynab's body. Her supple fingers kneaded the girl's pliant flesh, soothing it and removing all signs of tension.

"You have good skin, lady," the ma.s.seuse remarked, her thumbs pressing into Zaynab's flesh. "It is firm, yet soft. By the time you go to the caliph, I will make it even finer for you. I will also teach you how to make certain the ma.s.seuse in the caliph's harem cares for you properly. Favored women in the royal harem are always bribing the slaves to help them destroy a rival, or to get better treatment for themselves. That must not happen to you." She pummeled Zaynab's flesh, the sides of her hands drubbing swiftly up and down her body. "This stroke brings the blood to the skin's surface, which is good, lady," she explained. "Roll over, please."

The ma.s.seuse worked Zaynab's shoulders and neck, her clever hands seeming to find the sore spots as if by magic. Her arms, her hands, her legs, each finger and each toe, were skillfully manipulated, until the girl was so relaxed she was close to falling asleep. She started at the sound of the bath mistress's voice, her eyes flying open.

"Now, you are ready for a nice nap, lady. Your servants will escort you to your chamber. You are a pleasure to serve, lady." She bowed politely from the waist.

Zaynab thanked them all, complimenting them upon the excellence of their service. Then she asked, "I will need a fresh caftan."

"There is no need," the bath mistress told her. "You are but going to your bed to nap, lady. There is no one here in the women's quarters but us. Your Oma will need time to see to your garments, for they have spent so many weeks at sea in a tiny chest."

"But what if Mustafa should enter these rooms?" Zaynab queried nervously.

The bath attendants giggled behind their hands, silenced only by a stern look from the bath mistress. "Why, lady, Mustafa is a eunuch. We could all run naked beneath his very nose and he would not care at all."

Zaynab took a deep breath. Ask questions, Karim had counseled her. "I do not know what a eunuch is," she told the bath mistress. "In my land no such creature exists; at least to my knowledge there is no such thing. Please enlighten me, I beg you."

Although the attendants looked surprised, the bath mistress was not. This girl was a northerner from a far land. "A eunuch, lady, is a male being who has been castrated. He has had his testes removed. He cannot reproduce as normal men do, nor does he even feel desire for any woman. The operation is done when the eunuchs are boys, or very young men. Some physicians even remove the manhood, and then the poor fellow must pee through a reed the rest of his life. Most, however, just remove the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es," she explained. "Your nudity would have absolutely no effect upon Mustafa. Your beauty to him is like that of a lovely vase or jade carving," she concluded.

"Thank you," Zaynab said. "I have so much to learn." Then, in Oma's company, she returned to her own chamber, and naked, lay down to sleep in the afternoon heat.

"She will go far," the bath mistress predicted to the others.

"Because she is beautiful?" the youngest among them asked.

"In part," the bath mistress answered, "but mostly because she is wise, and kind, and has the breeding to thank those lower in rank than she herself. She is not puffed up, nor overweening proud as so many women of high rank are. This, as well as her beauty, will set her apart from the others and catch the caliph's eye. Our lord, Abd-al Rahman, it is said, is a man of good judgment. He cannot help but love Zaynab. Aiiiyeee! What a bright future this Love Slave has. She will be the greatest of all those our master has ever trained."

The object of their discussion fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. For a time she was without thought, and then she began to dream. Hands caressed her slowly until she was all a-tingle. Warm lips pressed kisses all over her body, sending a flush of heat racing through her veins. Zaynab sighed deeply, turning from her side to her back. Half awake now, her legs fell apart. Warm. Wet and oh so warm. She was being overwhelmed with pleasure. Her half-conscious body shuddered, and suddenly she was awake!

His dark head was buried between her splayed thighs. He was teasing at the badge of her womanhood. She whimpered, and raising his head up for a brief moment, he gazed on her with l.u.s.t-filled eyes before bending once more to complete his sweet work. Reaching out, Zaynab dug her fingers into his dark hair, encouraging him onward. Within moments he was raising his body up and sliding between her legs, his engorged manhood delving deeply into her flesh. Seeking. Seeking. Seeking.

It was wonderful! She was dying! "Ohhh, G.o.d!" she moaned, "Yesss, my lord! Yessssss!" How she had missed this co-joining of their bodies in their time at sea. Yet abstention had, if anything else, brought her this incredible heaven. "Please," she begged him. "Please!" She wrapped her legs about him, and he slid deeper within her eager, hot sheath.

"Allah! Allah!" he groaned, lost in the sweetness of her. How could he have gone so long a time without her? How would he survive after she was gone? After he had given her into the keeping of another man? Deeper and deeper he drove himself into her. They were one. There was nothing else but this raging hunger. This all-consuming pa.s.sion!

Together they attained paradise; reaching it in a simultaneous burst of pleasure that left them breathless and eager for more. Still joined, he pulled them into a seated position, wrapping his arms about her, covering her face with kisses. They were both trembling with the force of their desire.

"You are magnificent," he finally said. "You were born to be loved and to love, Zaynab, my flower."