Maryam Ha-Levi was touched by Zaynab’s request. She had obviously been a good mother. “I will honor your request, my lady,” she promised. “What was your daughter’s name?”
“The princess was called Moraima,” Zaynab said softly, tears springing to her eyes. She could still not say her baby’s name without weeping. Although she now realized that Moraima would have died whether she had been with her or not, she yet felt guilt for the child’s unexpected death in her absence.
“I will take Maryam Ha-Levi and show her the kitchens,” Naja interjected quickly. “And there are her new quarters to inspect as well, my lady.” Beckoning the woman to follow, he hurried off, leaving his mistress to recover herself.
“She loved her child,” Maryam Ha-Levi said, understanding.
“We all loved the little lady Moraima,” Naja said quietly.
A brand-new wardrobe had to be made for the bride. As Zaynab had taken it upon herself to make certain that Hasdai’s needs would be met after her departure, the Nasi, in turn, arranged for the bride’s dowry, both financial and material. Several seamstresses were brought to the house, along with bolts and bolts of colorful, luxurious fabrics. There were blouses, coats, pantaloons, caftans, cloaks, and veils to be made. They were embroidered with silver and gold as well as jewels. They were lined, or quilted for cold days, or trimmed with fur. A female cobbler came and made patterns from Zaynab’s feet. These she carried back to her husband’s workshop so that slippers and boots could be made for the young woman who would soon be wife to Malina’s prince. Everything was done within the space of half a month’s time.
Hasdai brought Zaynab a wedding present, a magnificent necklace of sapphires and diamonds. “I have never given you a real gift before,” he said. “I did not realize it until the caliph asked me what my final present to you would be.”
She was stunned by his generosity. “I do not know what to say, my lord. It is a wonderful gift!”
“Abd-al Rahman has sent you a gift as well,” he told her, and handed her a small velvet bag.
Opening the bag, Zaynab spilled its contents into her hand. Her cupped palm glittered with the sparkle of multicolored gems. She shook her head in wonderment. It was a fortune. “Thank him for me, but also say the best gift he ever gave me was the only one I ever asked of him. Tell him I regret I did not take better care of that gift.” For a moment there was silence between them, and then Zaynab said, “I have a parting gift for you as well, Hasdai. Come and bathe with me.”
Zaynab’s new servant, Rabi, was struggling with learning both a new language and new customs. She wasn’t certain which was harder: trying to wrap her tongue about impossible syllables, or helping a naked man and woman bathe. Her cheeks were constantly hot, and it was not from the steam. Still, in the short time in which she had been with Zaynab, she had come to adore her, and would do anything for her mistress, even if it meant standing naked herself while she performed her duties.
Rabi was excited about the trip they would soon be embarking upon. Zaynab had told her of her impending marriage. “And do they also wash naked in this place to which we’re going, my lady?” she asked as she rinsed her mistress with warm, perfumed water.
Zaynab nodded, her eyes twinkling, and turning to Hasdai, said, “Poor Rabi is not yet used to our ways. Naja thought it very funny when he first brought her to the bath that she did not want to remove her garments to wash. He had a terrible time convincing her, particularly as she does not yet speak our language well enough. In an effort to show her what to do, he finally removed his own garments. Rabi ran shrieking out into the garden, and poor Naja, embarrassed, had to dress himself again and seek me out to find Rabi and tell her it was all right.”
Hasdai laughed heartily. “Her poor flushed little cheeks do not add to her looks, particularly with all those freckles. I suppose I had better keep myself under control, else I frighten her.”
Zaynab dismissed Rabi for the evening, and they returned alone to her bedchamber. There, to the Nasi’s surprise, a beautiful young woman awaited them. She was as naked as they were. Her skin was milky white, her hair as black as ebony, and her eyes a vibrant violet color. Hasdai ibn Shaprut stared at her, fascinated, and to his surprise, he felt the beginnings of arousal. He looked to Zaynab.
She smiled softly. “This is Nilak. She is Persian, and lives on the Street of the Courtesans in the city. She will come each Wednesday and Saturday night to be with you. Try not to forget that she is here, Hasdai, and do come home,” Zaynab teased him. Then she took his hand. “Come, my lord. Together, Nilak and I will offer you a bit of pleasure.” She led him to the bed, and the three of them sheltered upon it. “Kiss her, my lord,” Zaynab gently instructed him.
To his surprise, he was very curious. Reaching out, he pulled Nilak into his arms, his mouth finding hers. Her breath was sweet, and the kiss she gave him was delightfully passionate. The scent of lilacs clung to her skin. Releasing her, he asked, “Can you speak, Nilak?”
“Of course, my lord Hasdai,” she said, laughing. Her laughter was like water running over stones in a brook, her voice sweet and exquisitely modulated. “I am honored that the lady Zaynab chose me for you.”
The Nasi looked over at Zaynab. Then reaching out, he put his other arm about her. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him sweetly. Hasdai was suddenly very aware that the situation in which he now found himself was one he had never imagined. Looking at one beautiful woman and then the other, he said, “I am overwhelmed, my dears, and I haven’t the faintest idea of how to proceed. I have but two hands and one pair of lips.”
Both of the women laughed, but it was Nilak who said, “Let us entertain you, my lord. You will soon see that it is possible to give us both incredible pleasure at the same time.” Then slithering out of his arms, she wriggled down, her ebony hair spreading over his thighs as she took his manhood into her mouth and began to suckle upon it.
Meanwhile, Zaynab reached up, and drew his head to hers, her tongue running teasingly across his lips, daring his tongue to come out to play. He complied with her unspoken request, while his hands found her breasts and he began to fondle them. His head was whirling with the series of sweet sensations assaulting him. Zaynab twisted her body about, and immediately his fingers found her mont, insinuating themselves between her nether lips, tantalizing her little jewel, pushing into her sheath to mimic a manhood.
“He is ready,” Nilak said, and while she lowered herself over him, slowly absorbing him into her sheath, Zaynab pulled away from her lover, drawing the pillows from beneath his shoulders so that he lay flat. Instinctively his hands reached up to caress Nilak’s high, cone-shaped breasts, even as Zaynab squatted over him, offering herself to his tongue and lips. Reaching out with his tongue, he began to flick it back and forth over her little nub of swelling flesh. His heart was beating wildly. His senses were all afire. His mind was reeling with the waves of pleasure now rolling over him. His manhood exploded with a force he had never known. Both women were sobbing with their own satisfaction as the trio collapsed, limbs entwined, in a loving heap of fulfilled passion.
When finally her breathing had steadied and her heart had ceased pounding, Zaynab asked the Nasi, “You are content to have Nilak come to you, my lord?” She smiled down into his face.
“She may certainly come,” he said enthusiastically, and reaching out, drew the girl back into his embrace, kissing her ripe lips. “You have given me pleasure tonight, Nilak. I will welcome your coming after the lady Zaynab has departed.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Nilak replied sweetly. Then rising from the bed, she left the chamber.
“Will she be back?” he asked Zaynab. “She is very lovely, and totally different from you. I know I told you no, but I thank you for finding her for me. We will have many enjoyable hours together, I am certain.”
“She will not return tonight, my lord,” Zaynab said. “I just wanted you to meet her while I was with you so you would not feel shy of a new woman. You did very we
ll, my lord. I have taught you well.”
The following morning, when Zaynab awoke, Hasdai was gone, but on the pillow where his head had lain was a perfect white gardenia. Zaynab smiled softly. It was really a shame that Hasdai would not marry. He was a very romantic man. She hoped that the young courtesan, Nilak, would appreciate the Nasi’s gentler qualities; but perhaps Hasdai would not be as vulnerable with Nilak as he had been with her.
Zaynab did not see Hasdai again until her departure two days later. She would travel down the Guadalquivir to its mouth, then go overland to Jabal-Taraq, to be ferried across to Ifriqiya, where she would be met by the delegation from Malina and escorted to her new home. Her many trunks containing her dowry were loaded aboard a royal vessel called The Abd-al Rahman. Naja, Aida, and Rabi were almost sick with their excitement when the Nasi arrived with an honor guard to accompany her to the ship. He came in his official capacity, dressed in splendid robes of cloth-of-gold brocade embroidered with pearls and diamonds. Upon his head was a matching turban.
“We don’t want to miss the tide, my lady,” he said formally, and helped her into her litter.
At the docks he shepherded her aboard, taking her to her spacious cabin. “The caliph chose your route because of the late autumn. He feared storms. You will not sail from Jabal-Taraq unless the weather is fair, Zaynab. We both want you to reach your destination safely.”
“Has there been any word from Karim?” she asked him anxiously.
He shook his head, and then told her, “The Prince of Malina has no idea who the bride is that the caliph is sending him, Zaynab. It was a small jest upon our parts, which I hope you will forgive. I am certain, knowing Karim, that he is angry and defiant regarding the caliph’s order that he take this bride being sent to him. Imagine his surprise and delight when he learns his bride is the only woman he has ever loved.” The Nasi took her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. “May the God who watches over us all bless your journey and your new life, Zaynab. I will never forget you, my dear.” Then stepping back a pace from her, Hasdai ibn Shaprut bowed low before departing the vessel.
Zaynab felt tears pricking behind her eyelids as she watched him go. He had been her lover; her good friend. She would miss him. His sympathetic insight was entirely responsible for this journey she was now embarking upon, which would take her back to the one man she had always loved. “I will never forget you, Hasdai,” Zaynab said softly after him. Then she heard the shouts upon the deck as the ropes binding the ship to its mooring were loosened, allowing the vessel to float free. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with excitement She was going home. Home to Malina. Home to Karim!
Chapter 20
“A bride? The caliph is sending me a bride?” Karim ibn Habib, Prince of Malina, looked to his vizier Alaeddin ben Omar for corroboration.
“Yes, my lord,” he said. “The caliph’s letter states that he feels you should be married, and that you should start a family immediately, being the last male of the direct line of ibn Malik. The caliph says your family’s loyalty to his family over the centuries is deserving of reward. So he has decided to send you a bride of his choosing. She will be arriving within the month, my lord.”
“I distinctly remember telling Hasdai ibn Shaprut that I would not marry again,” Karim said, his irritation beginning to grow as he sensed Hasdai’s hand in all of this. “I also recall saying that I would appoint my sister’s son as my heir. Why did he not tell the caliph that, Alaeddin?”
“Perhaps, my lord, he did,” the vizier replied. He wasn’t certain whether or not he should mention that although the caliph had signed this missive, it had been sealed with Hasdai ibn Shaprut’s seal, not that of Abd-al Rahman. Deciding discretion was the better route, he said nothing to his old friend.
“I do not want a bride, Alaeddin,” the prince said. “My experience with Hatiba was tragic. Like some animal, I got a child on her even though I did not care for her. I cannot do that again, Alaeddin. I will not!” There was a very determined look in his blue eyes.
“You cannot offend the caliph,” the vizier counseled. “He is your overlord, Karim.” Alaeddin ben Omar dropped formality for expediency’s sake. He needed to appeal to his friend’s common sense. Karim was fully capable of being foolishly stubborn. “Wait at least until you have met the girl. I know that no woman can ever replace Zaynab in your heart, old friend, but perhaps this bride will make her own place, if you will but let her.”
“I must accept this woman only because she comes from the caliph,” Karim replied. “I do not, however, have to bed with her.”
“Are you mad?” the vizier cried. “This letter specifically states that your bride has the ear and the personal respect of Abd-al Rahman himself! If you mistreat her, she will complain to the caliph.”
“She cannot complain to him if I do not let her,” Karim said ruthlessly. “She will live in the harem and its gardens, but never be allowed out of them. There is nothing unusual in that. The servants will not dare to intrigue with her, for fear of my wrath, Alaeddin. She will want for nothing.”
“You are mad,” his friend answered.
“No, I am not! I am the Prince of Malina I will not be told that I must take a wife and then breed her like some stallion being put to a mare. I cannot do it, Alaeddin. How can you even consider such a thing? You are fortunate that you have your beloved Oma. You may eventually have a little harem of pretties, but you will not take another wife, old friend, will you? Why must I? Because I am the prince here? Because my family has served the Umayyads faithfully for over two hundred years? Those reasons are not good enough for me. I will not do it!” His voice was strong, his handsome face implacable. “I will marry the woman because I must, but that is all I will do.”
Later, in the security of his own home, the vizier fretted to his wife about the situation. “He is obstinate, Oma. Allah pity this poor woman the caliph is sending to be Karim’s wife.”
“You say the letter was sealed with the physician’s seal, and not the caliph’s,” Oma said thoughtfully. What motive had the caliph’s adviser in all of this? “Hasdai ibn Shaprut knew that Karim did not want another wife. Yet he has obviously encouraged the caliph to send him one. Why? I wonder. Who is this woman, and for what purpose is she being sent here? This matter may not be as simple as it seems, Alaeddin.”
Oma’s words raised more questions in the vizier’s mind than they answered. Was there some hidden agenda on the part of the caliph and his most trusted adviser? And if so, what was it? Was it possible that Hasdai ibn Shaprut did not think Karim capable of ruling, that this bride was in actuality a spy of Abd-al Rahman? The vizier, however, kept these thoughts to himself. There was no cause for irrational suspicions yet. There was no need to arouse the prince’s ire any more than it was already aroused. A good vizier assembled all the facts, found the truth, and then presented it to his master.
Word was brought to Alcazaba Malina that the bride was within two days of Jabal-Taraq.
“Will you meet her in Tanja?” Alaeddin ben Omar asked Karim.
“No,” Karim said with a thin smile. “I am going hunting in the hills for a few days. I shall stay at Escape.”
“Then do you want me to go to Tanja to greet her in your name, and escort her back to Alcazaba Malina?” the vizier asked.
“Yes,” Karim said. “Do we have all the papers pertaining to this marriage in hand?” And when his companion nodded in the affirmative, the prince said, “Then let us take them to the imam now, and have him perform the ceremony. Since the woman is coming, she is obviously willing. You will witness the event. Then, when my bride arrives, she will legally be my wife. Shut her up in the harem. When I return, I will visit her myself and explain to her the price she must pay for becoming the wife of Malina’s prince.”
“Karim, I beg you to be kind to this maiden,” his friend said. “Remember, she is only a female. She has had no real say in this matter. She may be some poor girl recently brought to the caliph’s harem, o
r mayhap the daughter of an official seeking favor with Abd-al Rahman. She must do as she is told and agree to be your wife because she has no other choice. Do not be cruel to her because of it.”
“I will not be cruel, Alaeddin, but do you not understand? It is the same thing all over again. A woman I do not really want is being forced into marriage with me. How can I love any woman when Zaynab fills my whole heart, my very soul? Her memory sears me with such pain that I cannot even describe it properly to you. I love her. I will always love her. There can be no other woman for me ever. Do you not understand it, my old friend? You wanted none but Oma.”
Alaeddin ben Omar sighed deeply. “That is true, Karim, but had Oma not come back into my life when she did, I should have found another woman to make my wife. I might not have loved her as I do my Oma, but I have an obligation to my father and my ancestors to create a new generation.
“We are friends of long standing, so I dare to speak my mind to you, Karim al Malina. You are the last of your line. It is your duty to sire sons so that the line of your great ancestor, ibn Malik, not die out. Life has mocked you, ’tis true, in taking the one woman you love from you. But what of Zaynab? Does she not suffer as well? Still, she did her duty as well as any woman when she went to the caliph, and then to Hasdai ibn Shaprut.
“Did Abd-al Rahman love her as you did? Does Hasdai ibn Shaprut love her as you did? Zaynab, however, does not cry out like a small child denied a favorite plaything. She does what she must, what she knows she has to do, and so, my lord of Malina, should you,” the vizier said angrily. “It is past time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, and started to behave as your father would have wanted you to; as a Prince of Malina should behave!”
The Love Slave Page 42
