The caliph was not a tall man. Though she was considered tall for a woman, he was barely taller than she was. His garments, of course, had been magnificent. What lay beneath them she could not tell, except that he was a man with a solid build. His eyebrows had been reddish. Was his hair that shade too? She would eventually know, for when he had looked upon her, his frank gaze had told her that he desired her.
They were brought to the women’s quarters of the palace, which was practically an entire building of itself.
“This slave woman and her servant were brought to the caliph as a gift this morning,” her escort said to the eunuch at the door. Then the guardsman departed, his duty done.
“Come in, come in,” the eunuch beckoned them. “I will get the Mistress of the Women. She will assign you and your serving wench bed space. Wait here,” he told them, and bustled off.
Zaynab and Oma looked about them. The pillared hall with its several sparkling fountains was filled with women of all sizes, shapes, and colors. The cacophony of their voices made it seem like they had been set down into a huge cage of chattering birds.
“What? Another girl?” the Mistress of the Women grumbled as she arrived to look Zaynab over with a critical eye. “There are over four thousand females in this place now as it is. How am I to cram another one in, I ask you? Well, you’re pretty enough, but the caliph is not a man in his youth any longer. I suspect you’ll grow old and fat like so many of the others. Let me think where I can put you.”
“I require my own apartment,” Zaynab said quietly.
The Mistress of the Women, whose name was Walladah, gaped at the young woman, astounded, then she began to laugh. “Your own apartment? Hah! Hah! Hah! Are you some princess, then, who is to be given special attention? You’ll be fortunate if I can find you bed space at all. An apartment? Hah! Hah! Hah!”
“Lady,” Zaynab said quietly, but firmly, “I am not some Galacian or Basque girl whose hair has been dyed. I am not a fearful virgin hoping to gain my master’s favor. I am Zaynab, the Love Slave, trained by the great Passion Master, Karim ibn Habib al Malina. I am to be housed according to my station. If you doubt my word, I suggest that you send to the caliph for his wishes in the matter. I will abide by them and offer no further complaint.”
Walladah struggled to make a decision. The well-being of the women of the harem was her duty. She was a distant cousin of the caliph, a woman widowed young, for whom no one else had asked. Only her family ties had gained her so powerful a position in Abd-al Rahman’s household. It had also gained her riches and respect. She was not anxious to lose all she had attained.
“You must decide, lady,” Zaynab pressed her gently. “The slaves will soon be here with my possessions. I have several trunks, and jewel cases that must be given a safe haven. I cannot have common concubines and their servants riffling through my garments. It is absolutely unthinkable. Remember who we serve, lady. I have been sent here for but one purpose. To please my lord, the caliph. I cannot do that if I have no place to entertain him, or if my personal possessions are stolen away by light-fingered females of undetermined heritage.”
Walladah looked at Zaynab closely. The young woman before her was incredibly beautiful and very self-assured, yet she was polite. A trifle haughty perhaps, but polite. “Well,” the Mistress of the Women allowed, “perhaps I could find a small apartment for you, but if you do not find favor with the caliph quickly, you shall find yourself sharing a sleeping mat with your servant.”
Zaynab laughed as if such a thing were impossible, and then she replied to the Mistress of the Women, “My apartment must have a little garden of its own. I need my privacy when I take the air.”
Walladah swallowed her outrage. The cheek of the wench! But then, she had to admit that this was no ordinary slave. Still, her position necessitated that she maintain a certain control. “I have just the apartment for you, my lady Zaynab,” she told her. “If you and your servant will follow me, please.” She hurried off with the two young women behind her. The apartment she would put this girl in was at the absolute far end of the harem. It had a tiny scrap of a garden, but the garden wall was shared with the caliph’s zoo. The girl would have what she had requested, but it would hardly be choice. Later, if she gained real favor with the caliph, there would be time to find a better accommodation. If.
Oma gasped with outrage as Walladah opened the double doors to the apartment. How dare this woman insult her mistress so? She was about to voice her opinion of this affront to Zaynab when her mistress placed a warning hand on her arm and spoke for herself.
“It is small, Lady Walladah, but I believe it can be made quite comfortable. I shall remember your kindness.”
The Mistress of the Women felt a momentary sense of discomfort at Zaynab’s words. “I will send a cleaning woman at once, lady.”
“Excellent” Zaynab purred. “I shall want to see the eunuchs available for my service as soon as possible. I shall also need to bathe soon. The caliph will desire my presence tonight.”
Walladah hurried off, amazed that so young a girl could have such presence and could have nonplused her so. She would do what she had to do to make this Zaynab comfortable. Then she would report to the lady Zahra, the caliph’s favorite wife. That lady would certainly want to know all she could regarding this new creature.
“If she had sent us back to Alcazaba Malina,” Oma huffed, “we could be no farther away from the center of things here. Two rooms, and neither of them big enough to swing a cat in, I might add.”
Zaynab laughed, closing the doors behind them. “It is better than being assigned a bed space in the harem sleeping quarters amid a group of other women who would undoubtedly steal everything we have,” she said. “These quarters may be small, but they give us status and privacy. We will turn them into an exquisite jewel box to house a perfect jewel,” she finished with a chuckle.
Oma looked about her. “Well,” she said, “I suppose once the dust is removed and we put our things about, it will be habitable. Let’s see what we have for a garden.”
They went outside to find a small square garden with a round marble pond in its center. A bronze lily rose from the middle, to spray a fine mist of water into the air. There were no plantings of any kind, although the beds had been dug for them.
“Roses, lilies, and nicotiana,” Zaynab said. “And sweet herbs as well. I think the pond should have real water lilies too, don’t you, Oma? And we’ll perfume the water to make the effect even lusher.”
The cleaning woman came, and shortly the two rooms were spotless.
Walladah returned, approved their efforts, and then said to Zaynab, “What furniture will you require, my lady?”
“Oma knows, and will go with you to select it,” Zaynab said sweetly. “Where are the eunuchs for me to choose among?”
“They await outside, lady. Shall I have them come in?” Walladah responded, a little smile touching the corners of her mouth. She had already spoken to Lady Zahra. They had picked the eunuchs themselves. Only one was really suitable. The rest were insignificant. This Zaynab, with her youthful pride, would be certain to choose the one they wanted her to pick. Walladah opened the doors and commanded the six eunuchs to come in. “Here are the candidates I have chosen for you, lady,” she said. “Which of them will you have?”
Zaynab looked at the six before her. Two were elderly. One was of middle years and looked half-witted. One was very young. Another was enormous in girth and looked half asleep. The sixth was a dignified dark-skinned man. Five were so eminently unsuitable that Zaynab knew it was this eunuch she was expected to take into her service. He would undoubtedly be a spy for Walladah. She contemplated the six. Among them was a fair-skinned boy with dark hair who looked nervous and wretchedly unhappy all at the same time. She pointed an imperious finger at him.
“I want him,” she said in a tone that brooked no interference.
“Lady,” Walladah protested, “he is too young for such responsibility! Choose someone el
se.”
“Are you saying that you brought me someone unsuitable?” Zaynab demanded. “I choose this young eunuch because he will bend to my ways easier than any of the others.” She turned to the boy. “What is your name?”
“Naja, my lady,” the boy told her.
“He has no influence among the other eunuchs,” Walladah protested. “He will be of absolutely no use to you, Lady Zaynab.”
“It is not necessary that he have influence,” Zaynab said blandly. “When I gain favor with our lord the caliph, then Naja will gain influence through me, Lady Walladah. Now, if you would go with Oma and allow her to choose my furnishings …”
Defeated, the Mistress of the Women retired, taking the five rejected eunuchs with her. With a grin and a wink at her mistress, Oma followed along.
When they were alone, Zaynab told Naja, “You may trust me when I tell you that I shall become the caliph’s favorite. I am no mere concubine, but a Love Slave. Do you know the difference?”
“Yes, my lady,” the boy said.
“Walladah wanted me to choose the tall dark man, who is undoubtedly her spy. I chose you instead because I expect total loyalty from you, Naja. If I should ever discover that you have betrayed me, I will see you die a most horrible death, and no one will be able to protect you from my wrath. Do you believe me?”
“Yes, lady,” the boy replied. Then he said, “Nasr, the one they wanted you to choose, spies for the lady Zahra, not Walladah, although that one is also in her debt.”
Zaynab nodded. So the caliph’s favorite wife was already aware of her arrival. She would be a formidable opponent, but perhaps she need not be. They might never be friends, but they did not have to be enemies. “The lady Zahra wastes her time spying on me,” Zaynab told Naja “I do not wish to replace her in the caliph’s affections. Indeed, I could not possibly do so. Replace a woman for whom a city has been built and named?” Zaynab laughed. “I only wish to please the caliph. That is what I have been trained to do: to give pleasure.” Although she hoped to build a certain loyalty in Naja, she knew that he, like all the others, could be bribed by a more powerful personage. Whatever he would repeat must soothe rather than worry the lady Zahra.
Oma returned, followed by several slaves carrying the furniture she had chosen for her mistress. “That old Walladah,” she told Zaynab, “would have had me take the most dreadful furnishings. Fortunately, I prevailed, my lady.” Hearing a noise behind her, she whirled about, saying, “Be careful with that divan! Put it there, now.” She turned back to her mistress. “I thought the caliph should have something comfortable to sit on when we entertain him.”
Oma had found some lovely pieces in the harem storehouse. The divan was covered in peacock-blue silk. Its wooden legs were painted with gold. She had obtained several small tables, both round and square. One was of polished ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl, another an engraved brass circle set upon ivory legs, a third made of blue and white tiles. Several slaves were laden down with silk pillows in shades of emerald, sapphire, and ruby. There was a wonderful standing greenish bronze lamp, several hanging lamps with amber glass inserts, and a number of polished brass lamps for the tables. There was a single chair of carved wood with a leather seat, and several charcoal braziers to provide heat on damp or chilly days. The bedchamber needed no furnishings. A dais for Zaynab’s bedding was already in place, and her clothes chests would take up the rest of the room. There was a small alcove off the bedchamber, where Oma would spread her bed mat. Naja would sleep outside of his lady’s door.
Finally they were alone, and Oma began to unpack her lady’s chests. “What will you wear?” she asked her.
“Something simple,” Zaynab answered. “But first I must bathe. Naja, are the baths available at any time?”
“Yes, lady, but the ladies of the harem usually bathe in the morning. It is their gossiping time.”
“I bathe twice daily,” Zaynab informed him. “In the morning and in the late afternoon. I require the services of the masseuse in the afternoon each day. My scent is gardenia. I use no other. See the bath attendants are so informed.” She loosened the hip band of her skirt, and it fell to the floor with a rattle. Stepping away from the pearl-encrusted garment, she undid her blouse and pulled it off. “Oma, a robe, please.” She handed the blouse to Naja as Oma helped her mistress into a white silk garment “Take me to the baths, Naja,” Zaynab commanded him.
The young eunuch passed the blouse to Oma and then led his new mistress from her apartments. As they hurried through the harem, Zaynab was the curious object of all eyes. She said nothing, but stared straight ahead, head held high. Walladah, she suspected, was already spreading tales. When they reached their destination, Naja introduced Zaynab to the Mistress of the Baths, who was called Obana.
“Well,” Obana said bluntly, “remove your garment, and let’s see what we have to work with.” Obana was a person of great importance in the harem hierarchy, and her only loyalties were to the caliph. She could not be bribed, nor did she fear any of the women, including Zahra. A maiden’s good grooming and radiant beauty reflected well upon Obana, particularly if the caliph was pleased, and if he was, Obana was usually rewarded by her generous master. Gaining her favor was paramount to success with Abd-al Rahman.
Naja whisked the silk robe from Zaynab, and she stood quietly under Obana’s critical eye.
“Let me see your hands, lady.” Carefully Obana examined the girl’s hands, turning them over, running her strong fingers along Zaynab’s delicate digits. “Your feet, one at a time.” Zaynab patiently obeyed. “Open your mouth.” She peered in at the girl’s strong white teeth and sniffed hard. “Good teeth, no rot, sweet breath,” was her comment. Swiftly she ran her hands over Zaynab’s body. There was nothing lewd or licentious in the gesture. Zaynab might have been a fine mare being examined by a prospective owner. “Your skin is wonderfully soft and firm. You are not one of the typical harem beauties who will grow fat with age.” She felt a lock of her subject’s hair. “It’s like thistledown, but then you know that. Do you use lemon on your hair to encourage its lights?”
“Yes, my lady Obana. I was so taught,” Zaynab said in a soft voice. Her look was direct, her expression pleasant without being familiar.
“Excellent!” Obana approved. “Well, lady, I have never seen a more beautiful girl come into this harem. You are a Love Slave, the gossip says. Is it so?”
“Yes, my lady Obana. The gossip in this instance is correct,” Zaynab answered, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.
Obana chuckled herself. “They are already saying much about you. Considering you entered Madinat al-Zahra but a short time ago, I find it amazing all that is said about you.”
“I am but today’s diversion, my lady Obana. Tomorrow the women of the harem will have something else to amuse them,” Zaynab said with a small smile.
“Well, to business,” Obana said briskly, nodding. “When did you last bathe, my lady?”
“This morning,” Zaynab replied. “It is my custom to bathe twice daily. Naja knows my preferences and will tell your assistants.”
“Excellent!” Obana replied, but then she personally oversaw the Love Slave’s ablutions. This one would definitely find favor with the caliph. For how long, she could not predict, but for now it was a certainty. She did not envy the lady Zahra and the lady Tarub, the master’s two favorite wives. They truly loved their husband, and to be supplanted, even for a brief time, by so very young and fair a creature as this Zaynab, must be galling. Yet neither of those ladies ever showed their displeasure when their lord and master strayed into greener pastures. They were too well mannered. They did not have to fear being replaced in their husband’s esteem, for their positions were secure by virtue of their sons and their long association with Abd-al Rahman.
Bathed, and massaged, her fingernails and toenails neatly pared, Zaynab was reclothed in her silk robe. Thanking the lady Obana, she turned to go, but suddenly Naja gasped softly, and bowing low, steppe
d aside, allowing the lady Zahra to enter the chamber. Zaynab fell to her knees, her head bowed.
A tiny smile of amusement touched Lady Zahra’s lips. “It is not necessary for you to kneel to me, Lady Zaynab. Kneel only to our lord and master, Abd-al Rahman al Nasir I’il Din Allah, the great and victorious Caliph of al-Andalus.”
Zaynab rose immediately. “I but do honor the lady Zahra, she who holds the caliph’s heart, mother of his heir, for whom this city was named. I am neither meek nor humble, madame, but your status demands that I behave in a mannerly fashion, lest I shame he who trained me and he who sent me to the caliph in gratitude for his many kindnesses.”
Zahra laughed a tinkling laugh. “You are clever,” she said. “That is good. You will amuse my husband. He needs a new diversion, for he grows easily bored of late. Please him as long as you can, Zaynab.” Then the lady Zahra turned about and departed the same way she came.
Well, well, the Mistress of the Baths thought to herself. The lady Zahra is afraid of this one. She is concerned enough to beard the girl on her first day in the harem. She has never been afraid of any of the others. Why this one? It is interesting. Yes, I shall watch this drama unfold about me with pleasure.
Zaynab walked the width and the length of the harem back to her quarters. The other women watched her openly now; some with simple interest, some with envy, some bitterly, for her beauty was not to be denied and would draw the caliph’s attention away from them.
When she was safely within her little apartment, Zaynab collapsed upon the divan. “I have met the lady Zahra,” she announced to Oma. “She is already jealous of me, and so are the others. I could feel their hatred reaching out to score me as I returned from the baths.”
The Love Slave Page 21
