“Do you have a plan? ”
Khalif shook his head. “Nothing specific,” he said slowly. “From here, we can enter the city and make enquiries. Zamil and I will go in once it is dark. If we learn nothing today, we will go in again tomorrow. Someone somewhere will know what has happened to her. ”
“I will go with you,” said Hawkins firmly. “I, too, have friends in the city. ”
Khalif smiled gratefully. “Thank you, my friend. ”
Soon the blankets were laid out in the shade of the trees, preparatory to sleep. The girls collected grasses, small sticks and wood to make a small fire. Once this was going, Khalif set them to collecting dates and water which he distributed to the others before they all settled down to rest and sleep. Fleur, without being told, stripped off the shapeless, all-covering Arab ‘ha’ik which Khalif had managed to obtain in the village and crawled naked under Hawkins’ blanket. Not to be outdone, Leila also disrobed and crawled under Zamil’s.
Khalif sat down comfortably on the opposite side of the fire. “I will take the first watch,” he volunteered. “Zamil, I’ll wake you in two hours. Matthew, you take the third, then Frith! ”
Zamil nodded and curled up with the Egyptian nestled in his arms.
Hawkins grinned happily as he lay down with his own naked armful of girl. Fleur wriggled herself closer against him and he felt himself hardening immediately. He sighed and allowed her to nibble gently at his neck as his gaze met Khalif’s. The French girl’s wiles were becoming harder and harder to resist, but he was damned if he’d take her publicly like this. Then his breath quickened as her soft nakedness pressed against him. He knew now how Khalif felt about Charlotte; and why the corsair had embarked on this apparently suicidal course. This was HIS woman. It felt right, so right, to have her cradled in his arms like this.
Zamil woke Hawkins four hours later. For a moment, the Englishman was totally disorientated, then Fleur moved fitfully in his arms and everything came back to him. He looked down fondly at the sleeping girl and then, carefully, so that he did not wake her, climbed from the blankets and donned his robe. The sun was high in the sky and it was very, very hot. Even so, it was very pleasant in the shade and he was content to sit with his back to one of the palms to keep watch.
A few yards away, Leila was awake; watching with huge eyes as Zamil removed his clothing preparatory to ducking back under the blankets with her. Hawkins looked at her and grinned. The expression on the girl’s face said it all. Whatever Zamil wanted was all right with her. . . .
Three days passed before Zamil spotted the slave caravan approaching the little oasis. The day before, Khalif had come back from the city with the news that both Charlotte and Meylissah had been sold and would probably be on a slave caravan journeying southwards to Sousse. By the time the canvas-covered wagon had drawn up at the little clump of trees, the others were already on their feet and fully-dressed. Fleur and Leila, swathed and veiled anonymously, were tending the cooking fire.
“Salaam aleyk! ” said the wagon driver, a Sudanese by the look of his clothing and the tribal scars on his cheeks. Khalif judged him to be in his forties, just beginning to run to fat. The man turned lazily on the wagon seat, dark eyes flitting quickly around the campsite as if to assess any possible threat.
“Aleykom es-salaam! ” Khalif gave the return salutation at once, his hand nevertheless resting unobtrusively on the hilt of his slung scimitar. Zamil, Frith and Hawkins likewise turned to face the newcomers. The group of six villainous-looking horsemen accompanying the wagon were obviously hired mercenaries.
“This is all of you . . . your whole party? ” asked the hooded man innocently.
Khalif nodded casually.
The man relaxed and, looping the reins around the wagon brake, dismounted and made a deep bow in Khalif’s direction. “Well then,” he said slowly, “with your permission, we shall join you in the shade for a while. ”He jerked a finger at the wagon and the dozen or so nearly naked, sun-blackened figures chained in coffle behind it. “I have live cargo which must be fed and watered if it is to arrive at our destination in good condition. ”He advanced towards Khalif, making the traditional eastern gesture of goodwill by touching fingers to forehead, lips and breast. “I am called Gebhr. ”He indicated the six horsemen. “These others are my retainers. ”He grinned, suddenly, teeth very white against his dark skin. “I am a slaver. ”
“I had already supposed it,” replied Khalif in the same easy manner he had displayed from the start, “and of course we bid you welcome. ”His casual gaze passed over the line of slaves without comment. “My name is Salim bin Rahdi,” he continued smoothly. He indicated Zamil and the others: “These are MY retainers. Please . . . take salt with us; share our fire and our food! ”He glanced across at the wagon. “May I ask your destination? We journey to Tunis and, from your route, it would seem that you come from there. ”
The slaver grunted. “Yes. ”Again he indicated the chained wretches. “I purchased these few poor slaves and some others in the market there some days ago. Now I journey first to Wadi Hussein and then to Sousse, where a certain rich Janissary Aga is waiting to take delivery of a trained whiteskin pleasure slave. From there we take ship to Alexandria where I hope to sell the others at a small profit. ”He spat, delicately, into the fire. “The whiteskin is very beautiful and has remarkable responses. She has cost the Aga much gold. Allah knows, they are increasingly rare these days! ”
Khalif’s face remained expressionless. “A whiteskin slave, eh? ” he said casually. “Then we are indeed well-met. Perhaps I might view her? I, too, have a liking for such. ”
Gebhr grunted again. “I am sorry . . . she belongs to the Aga, who entrusted me with the gold to purchase her. I cannot sell her to you”
Khalif forced a smile. “Of course. ”He lowered his voice confidentially. “Yet might not this Aga . . . as rich and as honourable as he surely is . . . understand if, before she came properly into his ownership, some generous person such as myself were to be granted a hour or so’s slave rights over her? ”
Gebhr’s eyes gleamed and he smiled. “Ah well; that would be a different matter, of course. Er . . . what kind of generosity did you have in mind? ”
Khalif reached into his robe to bring out a weighty-looking leather bag. He untied the drawstring and reached inside to bring out a coin. “What shall we say? A gold piece, perhaps? ”
Gebhr smiled again. “The white skin is very beautiful, friend Ali,” he said smoothly, “and fully trained. She cost the Aga a small fortune, yet brings me small profit. Perhaps two gold pieces would be nearer her worth. ”
Khalif nodded. “Very well . . . two gold pieces. But I first I would like to see her and if she proves suitable, as I am sure she will, I will need the shelter of one of your tents for my purpose. ”
The slaver grinned again. “But of course. A man must have privacy to properly enjoy the gifts a girl as accomplished and as beautiful as this can bring. Two hours then and my tent for your comfort. Agreed? ”
“Agreed! ”
“Just one thing. ”Gebhr’s tone was casual. “Her previous Master felt there was a need to punish her. There are still some marks on her body which you may find unpleasing. ”
Khalif’s eyes narrowed, though he managed another smile. “No matter! I care not about such things as long as she serves as well as you say. ”
“Very well. ”Gebhr gestured to two of his men. “Behzad, Achmed,” he ordered, “see that the horses are cared for and the slaves properly secured. Chasim, have Touati and the others set up my tent! We rest here for a few hours. ”
The slaver was as good as his word. No sooner was the black tent set up and furnished, its divans, cushions and thick carpets all in position, than he personally conducted Khalif to the slave wagon where the whiteskin pleasure slave, in company with another young female, were secured. Both were
hooded, but Khalif’s heart lifted as he recognised both Charlotte and Meylissah.
To one side of the wagon a young black male was secured. He, too, was hooded; the usual precaution in a slave caravan. Khalif had seen such slave hoods before. These, as others, almost certainly contained a thick wad of leather forced into the wearer’s mouth to preclude speech. All three slaves were naked, of course, as is usual in such a caravan. The accomplished slaver does not waste money by clothing his charges; a naked slave being far easier to keep clean, and far better suited to serve a Master or Masters sexually as and when required.
Khalif cast his eyes over the spread-eagled young Negro. The slave had been fastened standing upright with broad leather straps to the wagon’s framework side. His skin was covered in a fine sweat-sheen and, on his left thigh, he bore a fresh, deep brand.
The two girls were secured seated on a low wooden bench directly in front of the male, each chained by the ankle to a metal ring on a central pole running from front to back. The glint of gold on Charlotte’s body caught his eye and he saw how she had been pierced and ringed; very recently, by the look of her swollen nipples and sex lips. As Gebhr had already mentioned, Charlotte’s body still bore the marks of a recent fearsome whipping; the fading, blue-black welts evident on the soft flesh of her breasts and belly. Whatever her offence had been, it must have been grave, Khalif thought. Only rarely were female slaves so severely lashed on the front of their bodies, most slavers preferring to target the more fleshy buttocks and backs of thighs so as not to risk permanent injury to so valuable a property.
Khalif bent as if to examine the damage more closely, his nose wrinkling slightly as he did so. Obviously, both girls had been very recently used . . . probably, from the all-pervading scent of sex on their bodies, by more than one of the villainous-looking mercenaries. This also would be normal routine for such a small caravan, of course; allowing the guards free and pretty well unlimited use of female captives would be a normal part of the terms of hire.
“Do you wish to see her unhooded? ” asked Gebhr.
“No need,” said Khalif enthusiastically. “Her body promises all that I wish. ”
A muffled groan came from the spread-eagled young Negro and Khalif gave him second look, noticing how his body had been completely depilated; chest, genital area, even the armpits plucked or shaven quite clean. Something about the prisoner’s genitals took his attention and, as he looked closer, everything suddenly became clear. A noose of thin, waxed string had been drawn excruciatingly tight around the victim’s testicles; a small stick passing between string and flesh serving as the method of slowly increasing the tightness. Already the testicle bag was very swollen and an unhealthy blue colour. Khalif had heard of this before; the classic Turkish method of castration; restricting the blood flow and tightening the string a little each day until the testicles became partially atrophied; at which time they could then be cut off with a lesser risk that the victim might die from loss of blood.
Gebhr saw the look of distaste on Khalif’s face. “There is a merchant in Sousse who, the last time I saw him, begged me to bring him a young black eunuch for his household. ” he growled. “If this one lives when we finally neuter him, he will show a nice profit; if not . . . ” he shrugged his shoulders, “. . . I had him cheap, so it is but a modest gamble! ”
The youth must have heard and at least partially understood the words, for his head snapped up, the sweat-streaked body shaking violently as a muffled shout emerged from beneath the leather hood.
Gebhr grunted and, reaching down to the noosed testicles, slowly turned the stick another quarter of a turn, bringing an anguished, though muffled scream from the spreadeagled victim.
Khalif fought down an urge to fold his hands defensively over his own groin. “How long? ” he asked slowly. “How long does this . . . this . . . operation take? ”
Thoughtfully, Gebhr weighed the swollen ball sac in his hand. “Oh, it will be a few days more before we make the final cut . . . and then he will be a man no longer! ”
Sickened, Khalif reached inside his robe for the money pouch. “Thank you, Gebhr,” he said, forcing another smile. He took out two gold coins and handed them over. “Please allow the white skin to bathe, and then have her brought to me! ”
It was some twenty minutes later, as Khalif lounged on the silk cushions in Gebhr’s tent, that one of the guards entered with a freshly washed and combed Charlotte. Carefully, so that she should not see his face, the corsair kept his back to her as she went automatically to her knees and bowed her head to the floor.
“Remember; just two hours, warrior! ” said the guard with a chuckle.
As soon as the man had left the tent, Khalif turned and lifted her to her feet, crushing her to him and placing a hand over her mouth so that she could not speak. Silently, he pointed to the entrance and held a warning finger to his lips. Then he removed his hand from her mouth and released her from his grasp. “Are you thirsty, slave . . . hungry, perhaps? ” he asked loudly.
“Yes . . . er . . . oh yes . . . Lord. ” she croaked, astonishment and a dawning understanding showing on her face as she recognised him.
“Drink then . . . and eat! ” he said in the same loud tone, indicating the tray of dates and pastries that Leila had earlier brought to the tent. There was a jug of water next to it. “Then I wish you to please me! ”
Shaking with suppressed excitement, Charlotte noisily took a long swallow from the jug. Obviously it had been some time since she had been fed and watered.
As the naked girl ate and drank, Khalif’s dark gaze flickered over the marks on her body and in particular to the red crescent incised deeply into the flesh of her buttocks. He made no comment, however, waiting patiently for her to drink and fill her belly. Then he shed his robes and lay back on the cushions. “Come, slave,” he ordered loudly again. “You may please me now! ”
Her response was automatic, as if she had been a slave all her life. “Yes, Master,” she replied, dropping to her knees and crawling obediently to his side.
Soberly, as Charlotte laid herself beside him on the cushions, Khalif drew a silken robe over them both. He put an arm around her gently and pulled her close, she in turn pressing herself tightly against him and casting her arms around his neck. She was shaking uncontrollably now, tears running unchecked down her face.
“Is it true? Is it really you? ” she sobbed.
“Sssssshh! Make no noise that others might hear! ” whispered Khalif in English.
Charlotte nodded and pressed herself even closer. “You came . . . you came! ” she choked. “I thought never to see you again. ”Then, suddenly frightened, she looked up at him. But you are too late . . . too late! ” she said tearfully. “I am already sold to a Janissary Aga. The slaver, Gebhr, is but his agent. ”
Khalif’s expression darkened. “Not too late, slave . . . never too late! You are alive . . . and you are mine! Whatever else has happened, only Allah can alter this! ”
Charlotte could not hold back her tears. “But how? Lord Gebhr will not let me go,” she sobbed hopelessly. “I am the property of the Janissary Aga! ”
Khalif shook his head stubbornly. “I have told you, I WILL have you back, Aga or no! Neither Gebhr nor anyone else can prevent this. Now tell me what has transpired since Jahwar took you from me! ”
“Jahwar? Jahwar is dead; killed by Mulay Aruj. I was there. It was horrible! ”
“Why? What happened? I thought Jahwar would join the Bey’s alliance. ”
“I don’t know. Mulay Aruj tortured him for information about the San Cristobal’s treasure, and about you and Lord Dragut. ”Quickly then, and in more detail, Charlotte related events as she remembered them; the House of Slaves, Jahwar’s torture, her time as slave to the huge, scarred Bey, the way in which she and Meylissah had been sold and lastly, the news of her uncle’s death,
; “Your uncle . . . dead? ”
Charlotte suppressed a sob. “His ship was taken by corsairs out from Tunis. They tried to take Uncle James prisoner, but he would not surrender. ”
Khalif’s mind was racing. Jahwar dead; tortured for information! A big, fat man with a scarred face . . . and he had held Charlotte for only a short time before selling her. Could it be . . . could it possibly be . . . the man he sought? After all these years?
“They say that the Aga tires quickly of his slaves,” whispered Charlotte, interrupting his thoughts. “Very rarely does he keep a girl for more than a few months, then sends her back to Gebhr to be sold. If this should happen, perhaps then I can be purchased. ”
Khalif ignored the suggestion. “Tell me,” he asked curiously, toying with the rings in her nipples, “why were you so grievously whipped? ”He rolled her on to her back and moved to lie on top of her.
Charlotte reverted immediately to slave girl status, spreading her legs and lifting her hips slightly to allow him easy access. “It was the Bey, Mulay Aruj. It pleased him to have me whipped and caned by the young boys who serve him after he had himself used me for his pleasure. ”
Khalif’s expression was hard. “I see,” he said thickly, his erect maleness sliding easily into her already well lubricated channel. “Very well then, listen closely! This is what I have decided to do if friend Gebhr cannot be persuaded with gold. ” . . .
At the end of the promised two hours Gebhr returned. “Well, warrior,” he grinned, as a red-faced Charlotte scrambled from Khalif’s side to kneel submissively at the slaver’s feet, “was she as good as I promised? ”
Khalif nodded soberly. “Yes . . . yes! Truly remarkable. Your Janissary friend will be very pleased with her. ”
“As I told you . . . as I told you,” chuckled Gebhr, taking hold of Charlotte’s leash and tugging her to her feet. “And as many of my guards can testify. ”
“Wait a moment, friend! ” said Khalif softly, as the man made to leave. “Are you sure she is not for sale? I would be willing to pay a good price . . . perhaps double what your Janissary paid for her. ”
Love Slave Page 20
