All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  “Allah curse him! I shall speak to him this day, my daughter.” Osman was angry, and his eyes blazed as Skye had never seen them blaze, for he had always been a gentle man toward her.

  “Osman!” Her voice was tight with warning. “You cannot tell him how to treat his possession, and you know it. You presented me to him as a gift, and you know that the only justice for a slave is that which the master gives. Right now Kedar, for all his fierceness, adores me, but he is not stupid. Interfere and he will wonder why. He might even grow jealous, and I dare not have that.”

  Osman sighed, resigned. “You are correct, my daughter. I have allowed my paternal feelings for you to cloud my own judgment. Do not fear, Skye. Whatever happens I will get you out of Fez when you choose to leave. I will not permit you to languish in my nephew’s harem. That is most certainly not your fate!”

  Skye gave him a mischievous smile that touched his heart. He had not seen her smile in some days now. “I should hope not, my old friend, although, quite frankly, I will welcome reaching Kedar’s harem. Perhaps when he has all his women available to him again he will not use me so frequently. I never thought to grow tired of lovemaking, Osman, but, dear Heaven, I have! Your nephew’s prowess is surely unequaled for he can make love the entire night without ceasing, and seems not to suffer from the lack of sleep as I certainly do!”

  Osman shook his head sympathetically. “It is said that he had his first woman at the age of ten. My late sister was shocked, but her husband thought it a marvelous thing to have sired so randy an heir, especially since Kedar was his only child at the time.”

  “Does Kedar have any children?” Skye asked. “He never speaks of his women, but then he rarely speaks with me at all except to command me to his will.”

  “Although he has no wives, he does have several offspring, but unlike most Fasi men, he seems to care little for them. I don’t even think that he could tell you their names, ages, or sex. He does not care for children, I believe.” Osman decided it would be wise to say nothing of the fact that Kedar had confided in his uncle that he wished to have children by Muna. Skye had enough to worry about, and as long as she had her special potion she would not conceive. “You do have your special potion?” he asked her worriedly. “Do you have enough to last you several months, my daughter?”

  “I have just made a fresh batch. Kedar allowed me to go with Alima to the marketplace, and I was able to obtain the ingredients that I need. It looks and smells like a fragrance, and will be thought to be such, Osman.

  “It amused Kedar to let me visit the market. He loved the idea that I might wander at will and no one would know what a ‘delicious morsel’ I am, to quote him. No one can tell who I am when I am dressed in my yashmak and veiled. Kedar tells me the marketplaces in Fez are legendary.”

  “You will enjoy them, my daughter. The merchant in you will delight at the variety of goods available. Remember to buy with an open hand. You are the favorite of the lord Kedar, and he will be generous with you. Buy gifts for the other women and children in the harem often, and you will quickly make friends.”

  “I am not going to Fez to make friends, Osman.”

  “Nonetheless you do not want to make enemies of any of Kedar’s other women. Women can be vicious when jealous, my daughter. Have you so quickly forgotten Yasmin? Be charming and friendly, and above all be generous. You do not know when you will need a friend, even in Kedar’s harem.”

  “None of his women would dare to betray him, Osman. He is a man quick to punish an offense real or imagined. And no one will risk his lash for me, be I generous or not. He beat one of his favorites to death, you know. Still, I will take your advice and be friendly.”

  “I will rest easier knowing that, Skye,” was Osman’s reply. He rose up from the divan as she did, and taking her hands in his said, “Go with Allah’s blessing, my daughter. He will not fail to hear your prayers, for your mission is a just one. One bit of advice, and one only I give to you. Consider carefully before you act. Do not allow fear or enthusiasm to drive you to any rashness. You will survive!”

  She looked into his wonderful and mysterious eyes, and for a brief moment she felt swept away. She knew as she gazed into their depths that she would indeed survive, and something akin to exultation poured over her. She would succeed in her rescue of Niall! They would return home to Ireland, and happily raise their children as they grew old together! Skye found her voice. “Thank you, Osman, my old friend. Thank you!” Putting her arms about his neck, she kissed him on the cheek.

  The astrologer actually blushed, but nonetheless he hugged her back. Then without another word he left her. “Farewell, my friend,” she called after him, and Osman turned. The look in his eyes was a tender one. “Farewell, my daughter,” he answered softly. As she watched him go Skye wondered if she should ever see him again after she departed Algiers tomorrow.

  Despite the fact that they were to leave for Fez in the very early morning, Kedar did not change his habits at all that night. If anything, his excitement over leaving Algiers increased his appetite for Skye. He loved to lie nude, propped up by the multi-colored pillows, his legs spread, while she knelt between his limbs, her buttocks on her heels, her arms out for balance, her long dark hair loose about her. His hands would hold his penis up while she would administer to him with her mouth, her tongue, her little teeth. Soon he would have no need to brace his manhood, and she would obediently roll onto her back to receive him.

  When he had taken her three times that night she dared to beg him, “No more, my lord, else I cannot rise to leave for Fez.”

  A growl of laughter was his answer, but he left her alone to sleep on the pillow below his couch until just before the dawn, when his foot prodded her awake. In a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, he said, “If you wish to bathe, Muna, go now and do so. There will be little chance for a civilized bath for the next month. Occasionally we may camp by a spring, but unless I can guarantee you total privacy you will not be able to avail yourself of it.”

  Skye scrambled to her feet. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, catching up her caftan and putting it about her as she hurried from the room lest he change his mind and his lust get the better of him.

  “Wait!”

  She turned, thinking, Dear God, not again.

  “I have a small gift for you,” he said. “When you have bathed be sure to put it on.” He held out an object.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said softly as she took it. “A bracelet. How lovely!”

  “No, an anklet. I had it specially made for you. Once you put it on it cannot be removed except it be cut off. Go now!”

  Skye left the room fingering the anklet as she went. It was a slender circle of pure gold, engraved with several Arabic letters and a delicate geometric pattern. Here and there amid the pattern was a tiny sapphire imbedded in the gold. It was really quite beautiful.

  Hurrying to her room, she awoke her own slave woman, Zada, and sent her off to instruct the bath woman Nigera and her helpers. Zada had been her first gift from Kedar. He had escorted her, properly garbed so that only the merest slit of her eyes showed, to the slave market to purchase a servant for her. He had thought to buy her a European woman so she would not be lonely. It had been a very kind gesture on his part, but Skye had insisted she preferred a young Arab girl. Had he insisted upon the European, she would have felt guilty leaving the woman in Fez when she and Niall escaped. The Arab girl, however, would be reassigned a new mistress and no harm would be done.

  “They await you in the baths, mistress.” Zada had returned.

  Skye nodded, and went off to bathe. When she returned Zada had laid out the garments in which she would travel. Silently she put on the long, cream-colored silk chemise, a pale-beige djellabah embroidered in brown silk thread and tiny topaz, and soft, brown kidskin slippers. The djellabah was hooded, and had long sleeves. Before Zada raised the hood and fastened the gold gauze veil across Skye’s face, she brushed her mistress’s long dark hair and dressed
it with narrow gold ribbons in the single braid that Skye favored. “Go to my lord Kedar,” Skye said, “and say that I beg his permission because of the heat of the day to put aside my yashmak.”

  Zada obediently followed her mistress’s instructions, and returned several minutes later to say, “The master says you must wear the yashmak as far as the cart. You may remove it before you enter the vehicle, but not until then.”

  “Very well,” Skye answered. “Fetch the lady Alima to me now, Zada. I would say my good-byes.”

  Zada once more hurried out, returning several minutes later with Alima. Skye then dismissed the slave girl, telling her to see to her own last-minute preparations. “I think she spies for Dagan, who reports everything I do to Kedar,” Skye said, amused.

  “He is so frighteningly possessive of you,” Alima returned. “Must you go, my lady Skye?” Alima spoke French so that anyone listening would not understand her words.

  “There is no other way for me, Alima. If Osman were in the same position as my husband is, would you not try to aid him? How can I return to my home knowing that Niall is alive. How can I face our children with such knowledge on my conscience. Better they lose both of us than I return to them leaving their father behind in bondage.”

  “You love him very much, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Alima. I love Niall with every fiber of my being! I will not rest until we are safely together again.”

  “Be careful, my lady Skye,” Alima begged her. “Make no move unless you are absolutely certain that Kedar will not catch you. He is a very cruel man, as you already have learned.”

  “Yes,” Skye said, shuddering as she remembered the bastinado. “He is very cruel. Yet, Alima, he can also be kind. See the anklet that he had made for me? It is quite lovely.” Skye handed the narrow golden circle to Alima. “You read Arabic. What has he written on it?”

  Alima took the anklet and studied it carefully. As her eyes moved across the Arabic script her face darkened. “He is a beast!” she muttered. “He makes a charming gesture, and then ruins it with his ego!”

  “What does it say?” Skye demanded.

  Alima looked up at Skye, and said quietly, “It says Muna, Property of Kedar.”

  “I will not wear it!” Skye stormed.

  “You have no choice, my lady,” Alima said sadly. “It is the bracelet of a privileged slave. Once you fasten the clasp about your ankle the only way you will be able to remove it is if a goldsmith saws it off.” She handed Skye back the anklet.

  Skye’s eyes were dark with anger, and she longed to throw the offending gold circle onto the nearest trash heap. She knew, however, that she dare not. Bending down, she fastened the bracelet about her right ankle. She knew the punishment for offending Kedar, and she had no wish to ever taste the bastinado again.

  As she rose up again her eyes met the sympathetic ones of Alima. “You are far braver than I could ever be,” Osman’s wife said.

  Skye shrugged. “As you have said, I have no choice.”

  “Mistress, it is time to go.” Zada had materialized from wherever she had been.

  “Get the yashmak then, Zada. Hurry! We must not keep the master waiting.” She looked at Alima, and there was mischief in her blue-green eyes again. “You don’t think she speaks French, do you?”

  Alima laughed. “Never. She’s just a little Berber girl, one of too many daughters in her family. They sold her off. That’s what she told Nigera.” Then Alima’s face grew serious and, stepping forward, she hugged Skye hard. “Be careful, my lady, and Allah go with you!”

  Skye hugged Osman’s wife back. “I shall endeavor to be careful, Alima. Thank you for all your hospitality, and don’t stop your prayers, I beg you. I shall need them!”

  Then Zada was bustling about her, importantly pulling up the hood of the djellabah, fastening the veil about her face, helping her into a black silk yashmak whose hood fell to just below her eyebrows, and adding a second black silk veil.

  “You will smother me,” Skye protested.

  “Dagan says the master insists you be properly veiled,” was the prim reply.

  Skye gritted her teeth and grew silent. There was no arguing, for although she was Kedar’s favorite concubine, she was as much a slave as Zada and Dagan. There was no appeal of the master’s word. She stood quietly while the slave girl went about the job of thoroughly muffling her, and when Zada had finished Skye looked to Alima, merriment suddenly filling her eyes at the silliness of the situation. “I don’t know who he thinks will see me between here and your courtyard that I must be so encased,” Skye said in French.

  “It is simply another instance of his impressing his will upon you, my lady Skye,” was the answer.

  “We must not keep the master waiting,” Zada said.

  Skye and Alima embraced a final time, and then Skye followed her slave girl from the bedchamber, through the house that had once been hers, and into the main courtyard, where Kedar’s vast caravan was nearly assembled. The Fasi merchant had brought a rich cargo to Algiers from the interior, and now he was returning with an equally lavish one. There were numerous pack animals, donkeys, and camels, all laden down with the goods. The train was to be escorted by a large group of armed and mounted mercenaries who had come from Fez with Kedar, and would now return with him.

  The caravan would travel at a brisk pace during the day, but at night they would stop and set up their tents in order to eat and rest the animals. They would travel approximately twenty miles each day, following the caravan track that led through a narrow piece of land that was bordered by the Atlas Mountains. It was dangerous by virtue of the bandits who preyed upon poorly guarded caravans. Kedar had never lost so much as a camel in all his years of traveling the route, for he was willing to spend the monies necessary to hire enough guards to protect him and his goods. It was a poor economy, Kedar believed, to stint on protection only to lose a valuable cargo.

  Skye traveled in a covered cart drawn by two sturdy donkeys. The inside of the vehicle had been quilted in red silk and fitted with two dark blue pallets. Dagan drove while Skye was forced to remain within the cart with Zada. Her only escape from total boredom was the opportunity to look out through the gauze drapery veiling over the back of the cart. When she became tired of sightseeing she could sleep. She had little in common with Zada, whose only concern in life seemed to be beautifying her mistress in order to retain Kedar’s devotion so they both might get ahead in the harem. Zada often sat up front with Dagan, chatting for hours with him about Kedar’s house in Fez.

  Dagan believed he saw the handwriting on the wall. Never in his ten years with his master had he seen Kedar so obsessed with anything, let alone a woman. This one, Dagan decided, could end up being Kedar’s first and only wife. Consequently he took the time to make friends with the ambitious Zada. Best to have a friend in the future mistress’s camp. Even Kedar might be softened and influenced by a wife.

  The trip gave Skye some respite from Kedar’s possessive passion, for she only saw him for a short time each night. During the day he rode at the head of his caravan, his sharp hazel-colored eyes watching the hills around them and the trail ahead, never missing anything. He ate the midday meal with his men, although sometimes he would come by her cart afterward to see that all was well with his beautiful slave. He ate his evening meal alone, or with one of the senior men among his mercenaries. When the camp was quiet for the night, the fires burning in lonely splendor and the pickets alert and watchful, then would Kedar take his own pleasure.

  In a curtained-off portion of Kedar’s tent they slept upon soft down and feather mattresses covered in scarlet velvet. Having eaten alone herself, and then washed in a small wooden tub as best she might, Skye was expected to await her master within the alcove. When he came he would take her twice, and then fall immediately into a deep sleep. For Skye it was a relief, for Kedar’s only interest was in satisfying his natural and normal lust with these brief encounters. She might have been anyone, and his attitude gave he
r hope that his desire for her was now waning as they grew nearer Fez, and his large harem.

  * * *

  When they were a week from their destination they met with another party of heavily guarded merchants coming from Fez and going to the coast. Most of the men were known to Kedar, and it was decided that they would eat together that night. Already several young kids had been butchered, and were roasting over the cookfires. They had met up with the other group in late afternoon, and so had stopped early, setting up their tents in an open place by a cold mountain stream. Skye was allowed to bathe in the stream, and she delightedly washed her long hair which, despite Zada’s care and brushing, was filled with trail dust. Even the prissy Zada was pleased, and afterward brushed attar of roses into Skye’s damp tresses.

  They returned the few feet to the tent to find Kedar awaiting them. His eyes swept over her, lighting with pleasure at the cloud-soft billow of her fragrant hair. “I want you to dance for my guests tonight,” he said. “Do you know the Dance of the Veils?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Skye was extremely surprised. He was always so strict about shielding her from other men’s eyes, and yet he was now asking her to dance before his friends.

  “You will dance it then, my jewel, and wear your hair loose like it is now.”

  “My lord, do you think it wise to display me before others?”

  “Are you questioning me, Muna?” His voice was suddenly menacing.

  “My lord, I only thought …” she began.

  “You thought? Slaves do not think, Muna. They obey, and although I have given you an order, you are attempting to defy me.”

  “No, no, my lord! I would not disobey you, I swear it!” Skye was becoming frightened now, and she desperately attempted to placate him. He was in one of those moods where the least thing set him off.