Once a Scoundrel

by Mary Jo Putney

  Having collected what information he could, Gabriel descended to the wharf and joined Boran in the carriage. As they set off again, he said, “Malek told me you’re a native of Constantinople. Do you have any ideas or knowledge that might be useful?”

  Boran showed his teeth in what was not a smile. “I was once part of Gürkan’s guard, until he had my brother unjustly executed. I would have killed the devil swine if I could have met him face-to-face. Since I couldn’t do that, I left and traveled to Algiers to beg a position of Malek Reis. I’d met him when he visited his cousin and knew him to be an honorable man. I will do anything to send Gürkan to the hell he deserves.”

  Gabriel felt a spark of hope. “Knowing Gürkan’s household will be vital. Come into the embassy with me while I meet with Mr. Ramsay.”

  Now to find if Ramsay could work miracles.

  * * *

  Gabriel swept into Ramsay’s office, with Boran a step behind. “Sorry to interrupt you again, Ramsay,” he said bluntly. “But the situation has turned catastrophic.”

  Ramsay’s eyes narrowed and he set his papers aside. “Tell me.”

  Swiftly, Gabriel explained what had happened to Malek and the abduction of the English ladies. He ended by asking, “What kind of unofficial help can you conjure up? Mülazım Boran here is second in command of Malek’s guard, and he was once part of Gürkan’s household.”

  Ramsay offered Boran his hand. “Excellent. Knowledge of the household is vital if anything is to be done, Mülazım.”

  Brow furrowed, Ramsay moved to the large map of the city on the wall. After a moment of study, he tapped a location. “This is the site of Gürkan’s palace, in the heart of the old city. It was built as a fortress centuries ago, and there is no way to attack it directly to free your prisoners. Unless you know otherwise, Mülazım?”

  Boran shook his head. “It would take a full assault with artillery, and even that would likely take days to succeed.”

  “Someone would be bound to notice an artillery bombardment,” Ramsay said dryly. “But there might be another way. This is a very ancient city, and below the surface are cisterns and pipes and sewers that go all the way back to the Roman Emperor Justinian. These days, most of those structures are unused and largely forgotten, and the odds are decent that there’s a way to break into the cellars of Gürkan’s palace from below. Mülazım Boran, do you know of any such passage?”

  Boran frowned as he thought. “Not of my personal knowledge, but it was said in the guardroom that there was a secret way to leave the palace from the cellars.”

  Gabriel caught his breath. “If there’s a secret way in, perhaps we could strike quickly and be away before the deadline for leaving the city.”

  Ramsay pursed his lips. “It’s possible, though it will be difficult. The crucial first step is finding that cellar entrance. I know a man who is very familiar with the labyrinth of tunnels below the city. He might be able to help us.”

  “Is Siçan the tunnel rat still managing to escape justice?” Boran asked with interest. “He helped me leave the city for Algiers.”

  “The man in question had his hand cut off for theft, which made it harder to steal things himself,” Ramsay explained. “So he took the name Siçan, which means rat, and became a master of thieves with connections to half the illegal activities in Constantinople. He’s spent years exploring what lies beneath the city. His knowledge is available for a price, and he has no love for the great lords of the court.”

  The spark of hope Gabriel had felt earlier brightened. “Then let’s find him!”

  Ramsay opened a tall wardrobe and pulled out a pair of voluminous Turkish robes. He tossed one to Gabriel. “Put this on. A European will be too conspicuous where we’re going.”

  Gabriel obeyed. “You routinely keep robes around for undercover missions?”

  Ramsay’s brows arched. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  For the first time that day, Gabriel really smiled. Yes, there was hope.

  Chapter 26

  Once in the carriage, the nets around Rory and Constance were removed and they were blindfolded with the head scarves they’d been wearing. They were jammed together on the hard seat, and there was comfort in that closeness. Rory found her cousin’s hand and gripped hard. Constance squeezed back. At least they were together.

  The jolting ride involved twisting streets and many turns, but wasn’t very long. They made a last turn and jostled to a stop inside a walled area that smelled like a stable yard. She and Constance were pulled roughly out of the carriage and frog-marched indoors. Based on the distance they walked, the structure was large and complicated, possibly a series of linked buildings.

  Eventually, a few guttural sentences were spoken and they were transferred into the custody of different captors. More walking, until finally they were halted in a room fragrant with rose petals. The head scarves were removed and one of their looming escorts bowed and said, “The new Frankish slaves, Valide.”

  Grateful for the Turkish lessons they’d had, Rory blinked and looked around. In front of them sat a sharp-featured and richly dressed old woman who was studying the new arrivals with distaste.

  Rory knew that the highest-ranking woman in the Ottoman Empire was the Valide Sultan, the mother of the reigning sultan. She had great power and presided over the royal harem. Was the same title applied to the mother of any great lord, or did Gürkan think himself so grand that he applied it to his own mother even though the title was incorrect? She guessed the latter.

  Besides the Valide, the richly furnished room held four tall, powerful African men dressed in Turkish livery. They had to be eunuchs since they were in the harem. Two attended the Valide; the other two had brought the captives in.

  The Valide said in badly accented French, “Your names?”

  Eyes cast down demurely, her cousin said, “Constance, my lady.”

  Looking submissive was wise, so Rory did the same. “Aurora, my lady.”

  “Englishwomen, I’m told,” the Valide said musingly. “The first English females in my harem. Other than that, nothing special. Take them to the hammam and clean them up; then have them examined for purity.”

  Rory said, “My lady, I am virgin, but my cousin is a widow.”

  The Valide snorted. “A pity.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

  Once more Rory and Constance were marched away by their expressionless guards. The hammam baths were at the opposite end of the large harem complex. Outside the entrance, they were turned over to a brisk middle-aged woman who led them into a gorgeous room with a high domed ceiling, a fountain in the center, and beautifully patterned tile.

  Eyes wide, Rory gazed around her. She’d heard of the glory of Turkish baths, and this one lived up to the reputation. She might be a slave, but at least she’d finally be clean after weeks on shipboard with limited water.

  The proprietress gestured for them to strip off their garments, then turned them over to several young female slaves, who scrubbed, steamed, and cleaned them head to toe. Then the two of them were laid out on marble tables and a burning paste was applied to their body hair, even in the most intimate places. Rory and Constance were horrified and in pain, but their attendants made gestures to indicate the procedure would be over soon. When the paste was washed off, their bodies were as hairless as infants. This was how Turkish men wanted their women to look? Apparently.

  After that ordeal, they were led to a perfumed pool large enough to hold a dozen women without crowding. Their giggling attendants were thoughtful and thorough, clicking their tongues at the bruises Rory and her cousin had sustained during their abduction.

  The attendants particularly enjoyed washing and brushing out the new arrivals’ hair. Constance’s soft, dark blond tresses were admired, but they adored Rory’s bright gold locks. She suspected that her life on the Barbary Coast would have been simpler if her hair were merely brown.

  After the new arrivals had been dried, the brisk older woman took them one at a time into a
side room to check the state of their hymens. Rory gritted her teeth and accepted the humiliating examination. What would have happened if the examination had shown her to be less than “pure”? She suspected that could have been disastrous. She understood now why Gabriel had been adamant about limiting their intimacy.

  Gabriel. She closed her eyes against stinging tears. She must not think too much about him or she would fall apart entirely.

  After the examination, they were given light robes and returned to the quarters of the Valide. The old woman ordered, “Take clothes off!”

  Constance flushed, so Rory whispered, “This will be over soon.”

  Knowing that Rory had endured naked exhibitions in front of potential owners, her cousin took a deep breath and complied. When they had stripped, the Valide rose and circled around them with a frown and an occasional poke. “Open mouth!”

  Rory complied, feeling like a horse being examined at a fair. The Valide approved of their good teeth, and liked Constance’s full figure more than Rory’s slim build. Rory’s hair was a plus, though. The Valide fingered it with interest and muttered, “Healthy.”

  Finally, the evaluation was over and they were dismissed. Outside the Valide’s quarters, they were met by a petite and strikingly pretty European woman a year or two older than Rory. She had tobacco-brown hair and was exquisitely groomed, and she offered a friendly smile. Speaking in English with a charming French accent, she said, “I am Suzanne and was given the task of guiding you because I am also European.”

  “How fortunate your English is so good!” Constance said. “My name is Constance, and my French is not as good as your English.”

  Rory introduced herself also. “Thank you for guiding us. It’s all so confusing!”

  “It won’t take you long to become accustomed to harem ways,” Suzanne assured them as she led the way out to a vast open courtyard. “It’s a very comfortable life. After I show you around and explain how things are done, I’ll take you to your quarters so you can rest. It has surely been a tiring day for you.”

  “Suzanne, will it be possible to have the garments we wore when we were brought here restored to us?” Rory made her eyes look large and sad, which was easy. “The gowns were gifts to me and my cousin from my mother. They are all we have left since we will never see her again.”

  Suzanne clucked sympathetically. “They are not suitable to wear in the harem and you’ll not want for fine clothing, but I’ll see what I can do. Now come view the gardens, the schoolrooms for the children, the fountains, the dining rooms.”

  As they set off, Rory studied the harem walls. They were at least a dozen feet tall and topped with metal spikes. “Has anyone ever escaped from here?”

  “No. Why would a woman wish to leave?” Suzanne said as she led them through the vast courtyard, which was lush with palm trees and flowers. “Here she is safe and well provided for.”

  Rather than a large open space, trees and shrubs and low walls were used to divide the courtyard into many areas rather like outdoor rooms. Tiled benches and fountains invited lounging, and Rory saw a number of women doing just that. Some sipped coffee or tea, and one group was sharing a water pipe. Under another cluster of palms, a young woman played a stringed instrument and several others danced gracefully.

  The harem inhabitants glanced up to study the newcomers, then returned to what they’d been doing. All were attractive, well dressed, and well groomed. Rory supposed that cultivating one’s appearance was a major activity in the harem. “What do ladies of the harem do with their time?”

  “Oh, many things! We talk, we play games, we feast, we visit with the children.” A longing expression touched Suzanne’s face. “Sometimes we leave the harem to picnic in the country or even to visit the bazaar. That is rare, but it’s great fun. We’re heavily guarded for protection, of course.”

  “Don’t you get bored?” Rory asked.

  That look of longing showed again. “Sometimes life is a bit slow,” Suzanne admitted, “but we are safe and cared for. It’s more than most women know.”

  Rory had the sense that the Frenchwoman was doing her best to accept her fate, but would prefer freedom. “This is indelicate, but how does Gürkan choose his bedmates?”

  Unoffended, Suzanne said, “My master likes to try new women when they arrive, but unless you become a favorite, you’ll see little of him.” She glanced at Rory appraisingly. “Since you are a virgin, you’ll be given training before you are summoned to his bed. With your golden hair, you might be lucky enough to become a favorite.”

  The thought made Rory gag. Seeing her expression, Constance drew Suzanne’s attention by asking, “Since I’m a widow, what might I expect?”

  “He might never summon you, but I was told you are well skilled in the arts of love, so he might wish to see if that’s true.” She shrugged. “Favorites are summoned by him regularly, but there are some women who never visit him.”

  Constance’s eyes widened a little at mention of her amatory skills. Rory guessed that Malek had been trying to make his captives sound more interesting to Gürkan. She asked Suzanne, “Are we free to go wherever we wish within the harem? I am often restless at night and would like to explore these beautiful gardens by moonlight.”

  Suzanne frowned. “After the last meal of the day, we retire to our quarters. Women caught outside their rooms later in the evening are punished. Harem guards patrol the courtyard through the night.”

  A young girl approached with a tray holding goblets of a pink fruity drink. Suzanne gestured for them to take one. The drink was pleasantly cool and sweet.

  As Rory sipped the beverage, she wondered what the odds were that Gürkan would leave them alone. Given the effort involved in abducting them, she feared that he would feel compelled to rape them at least once.

  She shuddered, thinking of the tender intimacy she’d shared with Gabriel. The thought of being touched in those now hairless private places by a monster like Gürkan made her ill.

  There was a thought. Could she make herself throw up on him at the right time? It was worth a try.

  Her ever-active imagination spun vivid images of rescue and escape. Maybe an earthquake would shatter the walls of the palace and they could flee in the confusion. Or perhaps Gabriel could find a hot-air balloon and swoop in to rescue them.

  She gritted her teeth. In her stories, she could do anything, but realistically, this was her new life. She must come to terms with it, or go mad.

  As they circled back around the way they’d come, they heard the sound of a small child weeping behind an iron-barred door. Frowning, Constance said, “That poor child. Does it need cuddling?”

  Suzanne sighed. “That is a sad case. A widow and her two children. Her husband was a relation of the master’s and after he died, Gürkan took them in since they were destitute. But there was bad blood between the men, so the woman and her children are locked in private quarters until Gürkan decides what should be done. I have no idea what will become of them.”

  The crying subsided and a woman’s soothing voice could be heard speaking in the Arabic dialect of Algiers. Rory came alert. Surely this must be Malek’s wife, Damla, and their children! Later, she would come by and speak through the bars.

  “Now let me show you your quarters,” Suzanne said. “Because you are new and cousins, you will share a room. Likely that will change when your status is determined, but you will be comfortable here. If you need something, ask me or one of the eunuchs.”

  “Thank you,” Constance said. “You’ve been so kind.”

  Suzanne smiled and said graciously, “When you become used to our ways, you’ll be content, I’m sure. I will see you later.”

  She escorted them to the door of their quarters, then left. The room was not unlike the one they’d shared at Malek’s, though the furnishings were more sumptuous and instead of having a small private courtyard, they had the freedom of the whole harem. But they were no longer sustained by the hope that Rory’s parents would ra
nsom them.

  With an ache that pierced her heart, Rory sank down on one of the low beds. “Gabriel and Jason will be going mad.”

  Constance settled on the other bed, biting her lip. “I pray Jason wasn’t hurt too badly. There was so much blood!”

  “You know that head wounds bleed very freely. I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Rory said encouragingly.

  “But we will never know,” Constance said in a choked whisper before she buried her head in her hands. “I never really believed it would come to this!”

  “Neither did I. It’s still difficult to think that two wellborn Englishwomen can be deprived of life and freedom, yet here we are. We must make the best of our circumstances, or go mad.” Rory stood and laid a comforting hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll explore more on my own.”

  “Looking for a way out? I don’t think you’ll find one.” Constance stretched out on her bed and wrapped herself around an embroidered pillow, clutching it in a vain search for comfort. “Or do you want to investigate the Algerian woman and her children?”

  “Both.” Rory left the room and began wandering apparently aimlessly, as if she were exploring, but it didn’t take long to work her way over to the locked chamber.

  The child was no longer crying and this corner of the grounds was quiet. Shrubs and trees provided a screen, so Rory stepped up to the bars and said softly, “Damla?”

  After a long moment, a dark-haired woman came to the door, her expression wary. “That is my name.”

  “Are you the wife of Malek Reis of Algiers?” Rory asked in French. “I hope you speak French or English—my Arabic isn’t good enough for a complicated conversation.”

  Damla’s face spasmed. “I am his widow,” she replied in accented but fluent English. “My lord was to set sail to Constantinople several days after us. His ship was attacked and he and everyone aboard died.”