if they were threatened, as they had already been several times.
‘Let go of her,’ the slave master commanded. ‘I want the fair one, not you.’
‘We go together.’ Harriet faced him down. In a tone of utter loathing she muttered an insult that he would understand, which she had once found in a rather risqué book in her father’s library. The stories had been about Arabia, but told as amorous adventures, and something she ought never to have touched, let alone read. Yet it had opened her eyes and perhaps she was more prepared for what was happening, because she had read of things most women might not have heard of and would think horrifying.
The slave master’s face was a picture of surprise and shock, yet a gleam of appreciation showed in his eyes and Harriet realised that he had a reluctant admiration for her vocabulary.
‘Go on, then, but you are to be sold separately.’
‘Quickly,’ Harriet hissed as they followed the other slaves through a dark tunnel. ‘Help me tie your wrist to mine. If they want to separate us they will have to cut us, apart.’
‘Oh, Harry …’ Marguerite trembled, her eyes dark with fear. ‘What will happen to us? Supposing someone horrible buys us?’
‘I shall protect you,’ Harriet said, though she could not help wondering who would protect her. Her own fear was like a hard knot inside her chest and she wished herself safe at home with her dogs and horses, but she lifted her head proudly, refusing to show her feelings. If only she had never agreed to accompany her uncle to Spain, she might have been out riding now with the wind in her hair. Yet that was selfish. Marguerite could not have survived her ordeal alone. ‘Whatever happens to us, I shall try to keep you from harm.’
Kasim watched the procession of slaves brought on to the block to be sold one by one. There were some strong men by the look of it, some of whom would make excellent Janissaries. However, he was not here to purchase male slaves, only a bride for the Caliph’s son. A few women had been brought out, but none of them would be looked on with favour even for the Caliph’s harem. He frowned, wondering if he had been lured here on a false pretence; then, as he heard a small disturbance and two women were pushed on to the auction block together, he sat forward with renewed interest.
Kasim saw instantly that one of the women was exceptionally beautiful. Her hair was long and fell down her back in silken waves just as Yuri had described. She looked pale and frightened, which was not surprising in the circumstances. Having experienced what it was like to be captured by Corsairs as a young man, Kasim could understand the fear. He looked at the beauty’s companion and frowned. She was older, attractive, but not beautiful by any means. Her hair was a rich dark brown with a hint of red, her face pale, but she did not seem as frightened as the beauty. She held herself proudly, her hand holding on to her companion tightly. A grim smile touched his lips as he saw the two women had tied themselves together. Yuri had named the older of the two the hellcat and perhaps it was an apt name.
There was an argument going on. Several men were interested in buying the beauty, it seemed, but they were not prepared to take both women. One of the slave owner’s servants tried to pull the older woman away, but she spoke to him fiercely and he dropped back, clearly stunned by what she had to say. Kasim was not close enough to hear what was said, but he had seen enough. He got to his feet and called out. ‘I bid one thousand gold pieces for the two women.’
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
