Love Slave

by Terry Wakelin

‘‘Capture’

  Full dark saw the little column cautiously skirting the darkened village where Khalif and Zamil had bartered for the horses. There was no sign of life, except for a couple of mangy looking dogs who slid away snarling into the pepper groves as they moved past. The little group now numbered twenty one, all the freed slaves having elected to join them, though the shortage of horses meant that some had been forced to ride double.

  There were twelve male slaves, all former corsairs, worse for wear but already looking much happier now that they were clothed and had swords in their hands.

  Khalif rode with Charlotte seated in front of him while Meylissah rode with Khigali, supporting his swaying figure. Quite obviously, the young lad was still in a lot of pain. Leila and Fleur had their own horses, while Zamil, Hawkins and Frith ranged ahead, scouting for possible danger.

  Khalif had already decided to return to the little bay by the same route, thus avoiding the possibility of running into the Janissaries garrisoning the little fort. The climb down to the beach in darkness would be rugged, but at least they could lie up safely during the day.

  The wind from the sea was very cold as they approached the rope bridge spanning the ravine and Charlotte was shivering. “Are we there? ” she asked, pressing herself tightly against him as he lifted her from the saddle.

  Khalif nodded tersely. “Once we cross the ravine! ”He gave her the roll of blankets from his horse. “Then we can rest. ”

  “Will the ship come today? ”Charlotte eyed the rickety, splintered planks of the bridge nervously.

  “Not until after dark. Then we will climb down to the beach and Issa will send a boat to pick us up. ”

  The large bulk of Zamil loomed out of the darkness. “What shall we do with the horses? ” he asked.

  “Picket them back in the orange grove out of sight for now! We can turn them loose when the ship comes. ”He indicated the bridge. “Tell the men to cross no more than two at a time! Oh, and leave three men on this side to watch our back trail, just in case! Everyone else can bivouac on the ridge. No fires until daylight, though, and even then only small cook fires! No smoke! I don’t want the Janissaries looking up here. ”He turned to Charlotte with a reassuring smile. “Come! Hold on to me as we go across, then go find a place to lay out our blankets while I see to the men. ”He bent his head and kissed her lightly. “Tonight we can keep each other warm. ”

  Holding tightly on to Khalif’s waist, Charlotte allowed herself to be led across the swaying construction to the other side of the ravine where she selected a spot well sheltered by a pile of rocks to unroll and lay out the blankets.

  Zamil and Leila joined them a moment later, closely followed by Hawkins and Fleur. Charlotte, without a moment’s hesitation, stripped off her clothes and, quite unashamed, crawled beneath the covers. As the others, too, began to lay out their blankets, she looked up at Khalif with huge eyes and held out her arms. “I am cold . . . Master,” she whispered.

  Zamil grinned broadly as a slightly embarrassed Khalif joined her under the blankets. Charlotte, smiling happily, wriggled as close as she could to him, placing her arms around his neck to pull him down on top of her. Her soft nakedness enveloped him from chest to groin and, immediately, he began to harden. For a moment he tried to pull away, conscious of the others not an arm’s length away. Charlotte was not to be denied, however, reaching between them to guide his shaft purposefully between her welcoming thighs. Khalif was lost and, ignoring the amused gaze of both Zamil and Hawkins, he rolled his blonde slave fully over on to her back and, imprisoning her arms above her head with one hand, thrust vigorously within her sweetly captive body.

  Zamil looked at Hawkins and frowned. “A shameless slave,” he observed.

  Hawkins grinned back. “A shameless Master, also,” he said dryly.

  Full daylight found the lovers asleep in each other’s arms. Charlotte woke first, rising to prop herself on one elbow to first look at the blissfully sleeping Khalif, then around at the others. Despite the obvious danger of their situation, she was ecstatically happy. Khalif had come to rescue her and had claimed her for his own. She took no thought of the future. Only the moment was important.

  Around the little ridge, the freed slaves were rising and already Leila and Fleur were tending a little smokeless campfire from which the appetising smell of food was drifting through the rocks. A little way off, in the shelter of another pile of rocks, she saw Meylissah’s cloud of dark hair spread out on the young Khigali’s shoulder. The two were still asleep. Sliding gently from Khalif’s grasp, the English girl donned her robe and moved stiffly to the fire.

  “Charlotte sleep well? ” grinned Leila.

  Remembering the passion she and Khalif had shared, Charlotte had the grace to blush. Sleep had been the last thing on either of their minds and, once aroused, Khalif had demonstrated an insatiable need for her, taking her to climax after dizzying climax until, finally exhausted, they had both drifted into contented slumber. She rubbed a painful spot at the base of her spine and managed a rueful smile. Neither of them had taken any account of the uneven rockiness of their boudoir.

  There was a commotion down by the bridge and a corsair came scrambling hurriedly towards them. “Khalif? ” he gasped. “Where is Khalif? ”

  Zamil lifted his head. “Here,” he rumbled. “Over here. What has happened? What is the matter? ”

  “They’re gone! The three men watching the trail . . . they are gone! ”

  “Gone? ” Khalif slipped from his blankets and hurriedly pulled on his robe. He recognised the man as Chaim, one of Jahwar’s men. “Are you sure? ”

  “Yes, Khalif. I ventured back along to within sight of the village. They are gone! ”

  “Any sign of anyone else; soldiers, Janissaries; anyone? ”

  Chaim shook his head. “Something strange about the village, though. At this hour there ought to be someone up and about; but it looks deserted; no movement, nothing. ”

  Zamil and Hawkins were already donning clothes and weapons, and Khalif picked up his sword and a crossbow. “Charlotte, you and the girls stay here! ” he ordered. “Zamil, Matthew . . . we’ll go with Chaim and have a look at the village. Bring Frith and the longbows! ”

  Cautiously, the little group made their way back over the bridge, Hawkins and Frith with nocked arrows and Zamil hefting a loaded crossbow. The motley little collection of white-painted houses came into view and they stopped, taking cover in the palms.

  “You see! As I told you! ” whispered their guide. “The place is deserted. ”

  “Not quite! ” said Matthew Hawkins quietly, pointing to where the sprawled body of a woman lay in the shadow of one of the houses. As they got closer they could see her throat had been cut.

  Slowly and carefully they moved in amongst the buildings. Apart from the body of the woman, they could find no-one; every house deserted. The stench hit them first and then, in the village square, they found the reason. There, lying in a tangled mass of limbs, were the bodies of the villagers; men women and children, some bristling with arrows, others with sword or spear wounds, and still others with their throats cut, heads chopped off. Already the flies were busy; their buzzing wings helping the awful miasma to circulate through the village.

  In the centre of the square a dozen or more crosses had been erected. Three of these supported the lifeless, naked bodies of the men Zamil had set to watch the trail. From the various wounds on the bodies, they had not died well or quickly. The other bodies looked to be all of villagers, four men and five women . . . all naked . . . and very, very dead.

  Matthew Hawkins spat. “What d’you think? ” he asked, darting eyes scanning the village for immediate danger. “Janissaries? ”

  Khalif nodded slowly. “It looks like it. ”

  “Why kill the villagers? ”

  “Who knows? Perhaps the
y found out they sold us horses. ”He gestured towards the crucified bodies. “These look to have been tortured. Whoever did this was looking for information. Whatever . . . it doesn’t much matter now. Quickly, let’s get back to the others before we finish up like them. ”

  They were nearly at the bridge when there was the drumming of hoof-beats on the hard ground and Zamil, at the rear, growled:“Janissaries! ”Glancing back, Khalif saw a group of blue-cloaked horsemen closing in on them fast.

  “Matthew! Frith! ” he ordered. “Get across the bridge as fast as you can. We’ll cover you with the crossbows. Then you can give them something to think about with those big bows of yours while the rest of us get across! ”

  Zamil leaped straight into action and, down the trail one of the pursuers pitched from his horse with a crossbow bolt transfixing his neck. The Nubian gave a satisfied grunt. Chaim, too, was loosing bolts as fast as he could and the leading Janissary, an officer by his uniform, threw up his arms to fall with a strangled scream. The rest of the pursuers faltered momentarily, then arrows from the English longbows began to drop amongst them.

  More blue-clad figures began to fall from their horses and it was enough! Pursuit ceased as the Janissaries dismounted and took cover.

  Hurriedly, Khalif and the others crossed the swaying bridge; crossbow bolts hissing past like angry hornets. “Zamil! Give me a hand! ” panted Khalif, crossing to the supporting ropes and drawing his sword. Swiftly, the ropes were cut and, with a crash and a cloud of dust, the entire rickety structure dropped into the ravine.

  “Khalif! ”The shout came from Chaim. He was pointing up the ridge.

  Grimly, Khalif looked to where the corsair pointed. The ridge was suddenly swarming with soldiers; blue-cloaked Janissaries already stripping the four girls while others with levelled crossbows surrounded the little group of corsairs.

  “Treachery, Khalif,” growled Zamil. “We are betrayed. ”

  “A trap, certainly,” replied Khalif. “Someone knew we would come this way. Maybe that was why the villagers were massacred, so we should not be warned. ”

  “But how could they know? ” queried Zamil angrily. “And if they did, why didn’t they take us as we came up past the village last night? Why wait until now? ”

  A squad of helmeted Janissaries came down the hill towards them, crossbows at the ready and, warily, the five backed to the cliff edge. Khalif looked down. There in the bay, sails furled, a galleon and three corsair galleys lay at anchor while a dozen or more small boats ferried what looked to be a full company of Janissaries ashore.

  Khalif pointed. “There’s your answer. Those ships have just arrived with fresh troops. They wanted to make absolutely sure we didn’t get away. ”

  “So what do we do? ” asked Matthew Hawkins, nocking an arrow to his bow. Frith did the same and Zamil lifted his crossbow.

  With a sigh, Khalif lowered his sword. “Nothing . . . yet. ” he whispered. “We have no choice. Put down your weapons! ”

  Chaim was still looking down at the beach. “There! ” he hissed, pointing to where the huge figure of a black-robed man in a sinister-looking leather mask sat a prancing white horse at the head of a troop of blue-cloaked horseman. “Mulay Aruj; the devil Bey himself. ”He lifted his crossbow with shaking hands. “I say fight! I saw what was done to Jahwar, whose head now sits on a spike on Tunis’ gate. Better to die quickly now than inch by inch like that. ”

  “Courage, friend! ” whispered Khalif. “Trust me! All is not yet lost! Wait for my word! ”

  Chaim hesitated for a moment then, as the others discarded their weapons, slowly and reluctantly did the same. . . .

  Chapter Twenty One

  ‘A Reckoning’

  Stripped and bound, Khalif was separated from the others

  before being taken down the treacherous cliff path to the beach. As he was led away, he looked round to see Charlotte and the other girls already being stripped by grinning Janissaries. It took little imagination to know what was about to happen to them. The climb down was difficult, to say the least, with his hands bound, and several times he nearly fell. Finally reaching the sand, he was kicked to his knees and a noose dropped around his neck. Then a shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the huge, leather-masked figure of the Bey on the white horse. He squinted his eyes to look closer, but could see little more than the leather mask.

  “Here, my Lord,” said one of the guards, tightening the noose around the captive’s neck with a powerful jerk which threatened to strangle him. “This is the Barbarian. ”Silently, the masked man held out his hand for the rope, which he swiftly tied to the pommel of his saddle. Then, as Khalif climbed painfully back to his feet, he kicked the horse into motion and made for the fortress at a brisk trot, his captive forced into a desperate run to keep up or risk being dragged by his neck.

  Inside the walls of the fortress, the Bey handed his hard-breathing prisoner’s leash to an officer. “Take him! ” he ordered gruffly. “Chain him as I told you! ”

  Khalif heard the words and looked up once again at the masked man, a strange look on his face. The officer gave him no time to look closer. Dragging on the rope until, once again, Khalif was struggling to breathe, he dragged him into the fortress proper and down to a dungeon carved deep in the rock where, with the help of four other Janissaries, the struggling corsair was eventually chained spreadeagled between the two big stone pillars holding up the roof.

  “Comfortable, dog? ” growled the officer, tightening the chains viciously until his captive’s spread feet only just touched the ground. Receiving no answer, he backhanded the prisoner left and right across the face with a mailed fist. “I said . . . are you comfortable, dog? ” he repeated.

  “Your time will come soon enough, coward,” gritted Khalif, blood running from his split mouth, “. . . perhaps sooner than you think! ”

  The Janissary laughed harshly. “But not before yours, Barbarian. Rest as you are and reflect! You have killed many of my men. The Bey comes to visit you shortly and then we shall see who is the coward. ”He paused and looked deep into his spreadeagled victim’s eyes. “After he has visited your female slaves and made arrangements for their disposal! ”

  “Go to Hell! ”

  The Janissary sighed regretfully and, reaching down to Khalif’s dangling genitals, began to squeeze, slowly and carefully. Writhing in agony, sweat running unchecked on his naked body, Khalif was unable to stifle a series of deep groans as the pitiless torture continued. “My Lord wishes you to send a message to your patron, Dragut Bey,” the torturer went on smoothly. “In return for your life . . . and the lives of your companions . . . he asks that Redbeard now join his alliance and bring his ships to Tunis. What say you, Barbarian? Will the old man take heed of your words? ”Releasing his hold on the dangling ball sac, he stepped back and regarded the still writhing prisoner with some satisfaction.

  Khalif shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his vision. The agonising pain in his genitals was subsiding, but only slowly. “Dragut responds badly to threats . . . ” he croaked, “. . . and he knows that I would never ask this of him. “Your Bey made a bad mistake when he sent his original demands. Dragut will not join him; neither in this nor any other venture. ”

  The Janissary grinned. “Let me warn you, dog! If you refuse, my Lord has already promised the unlimited use of your white skin and the other female slaves to the palace guard, until he is ready to pass judgement on your treason. ”He looked at the suspended Khalif and smiled. “And for my part, I vow that your slut shall serve me and my men well and often! ”He chuckled. “Believe me, Barbarian, the whiteskin particularly will not find her service pleasant. We have little love for infidels. Now then, what do you say? Will you help; and spare her much pain? ”

  Gathering as much phlegm as he could in his dry mouth, Khalif spat directly into the guard’s face.

&nbs
p; “My Lord anticipated that this might be your answer,” rasped the Janissary, wiping the spittle from his cheek. Coldly and efficiently, he began back-handing his helpless prisoner once more . . . left, right, left, right . . . then left, right, left right again, stopping only Khalif was hanging limp and unconscious in his chains.

  It was a long time before Khalif returned to pain-filled consciousness. He blinked his eyes to rid them of blood and saw, as if through a mist, the black-robed and sinister figure of the masked Bey standing in front of him.

  “So, you are back with us, Barbarian! ” said Mulay Aruj, softly. “I am afraid the commander here has been a little rough with you. Still, here you are now! Tell me before further pain is yours to bear. . . what is your answer? ”

  Painfully, Khalif lifted his head to stare defiantly at the inquisitor. “I thought it was you, filth, when first I heard you speak! ” he whispered. “You are older and very much fatter now, but I am sure. ”His voice strengthened. “Many years have I sought you, Mulay Aruj, Don Diego, or whatever your name really is. ”

  The huge fat man laughed harshly. “And now you have found me! ”He reached up to remove his mask, revealing the scarred and demonic features which had so frightened Charlotte. “Though I think it will do you little good! ”Slowly he rubbed his forefinger down the deep, jagged scar on his ruined face. “I expect you remember this and how I came by it? ”He spat, deliberately. “Now then, I would persuade you to help me bring Dragut to Tunis. ”Stepping closer and reaching into his robe, Mulay Aruj brought out a handful of sharp slivers of pitch-soaked wood, each about two inches long. “You know what these are, I think? ”

  Khalif made no reply, but was unable to suppress a groan as carefully, one by one, Mulay began to insert the slivers under the skin of his chest and belly, leaving perhaps just half an inch or so of each protruding from the sweat-soaked skin.

  What say you? ” growled black-robe. “Persuade Dragut to come to Tunis to negotiate our alliance and both you and your companions go free. Refuse and I promise both you and your slut shall have slow . . . and very painful deaths. ”