All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  “Yes,” Hamal answered. “You must not betray us, Ashur, by any undue show of enthusiasm. Let us return to the palace now, and seek out Rabi and her sherbets. They will soothe you, and take the edge from your excitement. We will speak again, and I will fill in all the details that you must know.”

  Back within his own chambers, Niall eagerly downed the special fruit sherbet that old Rabi had made for him, his hands trembling as they clutched at the cup. Skye! Tonight he would see Skye! She knew that he lived, and she had, brave and bonny lass that she was, come to aid him. God’s bones, how he loved her!

  Rabi noted his mood, and commented, “How excitable you are today, Ashur. What has made you so?”

  “Hamal tells me that his brother will be visiting the princess tonight, and that we are going to be allowed to have the evening meal with them. I am excited that my lady Turkhan trusts me enough to allow me such an honor. I am also curious to see the brother of my friend.”

  Rabi cackled and, standing above him, stroked his dark hair in a motherly fashion. “Indeed, my handsome charge, you are being allowed a very special privilege. Not only will Hamal’s brother be there, but his two beautiful favorites as well.”

  “They cannot possibly rival my princess for beauty,” Niall said quickly.

  Rabi cackled again, this time with delight. “You are falling in love with her, Ashur! It is good! It is good!” The old woman lowered her voice, and spoke confidentially. “Please her, and you will soon control her. Give her a child, and you will be master of this harem! Your fortune will be made, Ashur, and not even the gentle Hamal will surpass you in power!” She patted his arm, nodding wisely. “Rest now, my big one, and I will call you in time.”

  He didn’t argue, sleeping easily for several hours before Rabi woke him and hurried him off to the baths. There, he allowed the elderly women who served as bath attendants to wash him, all the while enduring the hostile stares of the other young men in the harem. Turkhan kept about twenty males in addition to Hamal and himself. Most were of Mid-eastern extraction, but the princess did have a red-haired Venetian, two Greeks, a blond and over-muscled young Swedish boy who, like Niall, had been taken from a galley, a surly Russian, and two slender blacks from the forests to the far south. That they were jealous of him was very apparent. Since Niall had arrived the princess had spent much time with him, at their expense. They refrained from any open action now because they had already tried once to teach this upstart his place, only to have been badly mauled by the infuriated Niall. They had also been whipped by their furious mistress, and threatened with being sold off. More subtle means had been blocked by Hamal who, after their second attempt at poisoning Niall, had threatened to tell Turkhan if it happened again. That would mean an excruciatingly painful death, and none was willing to risk that. So the men of the princess’s harem vented their frustration on Niall through verbal means.

  “How does an Irishman fuck?” one of the Greeks said.

  “Like a pig,” the other answered.

  “No, my friend. Pork is forbidden a true believer, and our fair princess is a true believer.”

  “Then he must fuck like the dog he is,” a dark-eyed Egyptian said.

  Niall smiled pleasantly at the group of men. “I thought that only Greeks fucked each other like the dogs they are,” he said. “As for the rest of you,” and he looked mockingly at them, “you’ve nothing left to fuck with, impotent eunuchs that you are. No wonder that Turkhan prefers only Hamal and myself. Hell, my infant son had a bigger pizzle than any of you have.”

  “If it weren’t for the potion that old witch gives you, Ashur, you wouldn’t even be able to get it up,” the Venetian snarled.

  “Rabi’s potion but gives me extra strength to please my princess with, Ibrahim. Pity you’ll never again have the chance.” Then with another smile he walked out of the baths, leaving the others behind to fume with a rage they couldn’t exhibit lest they anger their mistress. Staring after Niall admiringly, the old bath women chuckled with glee at the exchange.

  Rabi was awaiting him, and carefully rubbed musk oil into his sun-bronzed skin until it gleamed and shone with a rich color. Niall enjoyed sunning himself in the gardens, and the dark tan he had now achieved only made his marvelous silver-gray eyes more silvery. He walked and swam regularly, which had kept him from growing fat like several of the harem men who were content to loll about; but his big slender body was of late growing a trifle too lean, for his appetite had fallen off. Still, his bronze skin, dark hair, and silvery eyes combined with his basically sound body to insure his good looks.

  Rabi handed him balloon-legged white silk pantaloons, the ankles embroidered with three-inch bands of gold threads, small pearls, and rubies. About his waist was fitted a belt of gilt leather, six inches wide, its rectangular buckle studded with rubies. Niall’s feet were shod in gold leather slippers with turned-up toes, and about his neck was hung a heavy gold chain with a heart-shaped pendant carved from a large dark red ruby that lay upon his bare chest. Upon both of his upper arms the old woman clasped wide gold arm bands. Niall felt somewhat ridiculous outfitted as he was, but he knew that it was the fashion here in Fez as much as horsehair padding was in the clothing of European men at the courts of England, Spain, and France. Sipping at the sweet grape sherbet that Rabi had given him, he wondered if Skye would laugh when she saw him, but then he considered what she would be wearing, and felt his anger rise for a moment only to slide away. There was nothing that he could do about it. Soon. Soon they would be together again, and all would be as it once had been.

  “You are the handsomest man I have ever seen,” Rabi said admiringly as she brushed musk into Niall’s dark, wavy hair.

  “They are a handsome pair,” remarked Selwa, the female eunuch who attended to Hamal. “Look to my little lamb, Rabi. Is he not magnificent tonight?”

  Hamal grinned sheepishly as he burlesqued a twirl. He was as exquisitely garbed as Niall, but his pantaloons were of midnight blue silk, the ankle bands embroidered in silver and studded with tiny diamonds and sapphires. About his neck hung a silver chain with an incredibly opulent pendant, a quarter moon carved from a single enormous diamond with a long sapphire star hanging above it. His belt and his slippers were of silvered leather, both studded with sapphires and diamonds. Hamal was as fair of skin as Niall was bronzed with the sun, for Fasi men of the upper classes abhorred sun on their skins, thinking it a mark of the peasants.

  “Come, Ashur,” Hamal said. “We cannot be late, as Kedar is always on time.” He grinned mischievously at the two old women as they departed the chamber. “Have a delightful evening torturing the other women as to the failure of their charges,” he teased Selwa and Rabi, and they chortled gleefully, indicating that was exactly what they intended to do.

  “Is she here?” Niall asked Hamal nervously.

  “Yes,” was the short reply, “but you must remember, Ashur, that you can show no recognition of your wife. Whatever happens you must show nothing except devotion to Turkhan. My brother is very, very possessive of his Muna. Let him catch you in so much as a glance, and he will destroy you himself. If either of you betrays the other I can do nothing to help you, nor will I even attempt to aid you. If you will not think of yourself you must think of her.”

  Niall nodded. “I understand, my friend, but you must promise not to be jealous of me tonight. I shall dedicate myself to the princess, and make her the happiest of women.”

  “Do not hurt her, Ashur.” Hamal’s soft brown eyes were filled with concern.

  “How can I avoid hurting her, Hamal? If I am to succeed in our plan I must appear to be totally enamored of her. She must be completely certain of me, Hamal. Do not fret, my young friend. It has been my experience that women’s hearts may be bruised, but they are seldom broken. She will appreciate you far more, having been betrayed by me.”

  Hamal sighed with regret, but he knew that his companion spoke the truth. Better Ashur love Turkhan well before he made good his escape. Turkhan woul
d be furious that something she desired did not after all desire her, but the time had come for him to make his move; his princess must begin to behave like the woman she was instead of a spoiled tyrant. She might be an Ottoman princess and have more freedom than any other woman save the Sultan’s mother, but she was still a woman. Sultan Selim II was at fault for allowing Turkhan to remain unmarried. Hamal smiled to himself. He would soon change all of that.

  They had reached the dining chamber, a lovely rectangular room with half-tiled walls of sky blue and white, above which rose rough white-plaster walls. The dark ceiling beams were intricately carved, and the wide-beamed floors were covered in thick wool rugs woven in a medallion design of gold and deep blue on a dark red background. They entered the room by walking down two steps. Two low, polished ebony tables had been set directly opposite the entry, behind which lay a number of brightly colored cushions in silk, wool, and cotton. The room was lit by large wall torches that had been fitted into carved golden holders. In each corner of the room stood tall gold censers burning pungent incense, and in the center of each table was a low crystal vase filled with fragrant pink lilies.

  Turkhan had reached the room only a moment before the two men, and turning, she cried out with delight at their costumes. “You are magnificent, both of you!” she purred with approval.

  “And you, my Princess,” Niall murmured almost reverently, “fill my eyes with such incredible and flawless beauty that I am struck blind by the sight.”

  Turkhan colored in surprise. “Why, Ashur,” she said softly, “you are beginning to speak like a Persian poet.”

  Hamal shifted uncomfortably. He thought that Turkhan was behaving like a young girl. She was almost simpering. Then he realized that he was jealous. Ashur’s very flattering remark had pleased her before he might even comment. He suddenly realized that Ashur had been not jesting when he warned him not to be jealous of him this evening.

  Turkhan did not notice her young favorite’s quiet mood. “Let us seat ourselves before my guest and his women arrive,” she said. Garbed in a cloth of silver djellabah whose deep V neckline and wide sleeves were embroidered with small black pearls and pink sapphires, she was looking quite beautiful this night. Her red-gold hair was dressed in two long narrow braids that were looped up on either side of her face, and a long cape of hair that had been dusted with diamond dust streamed down her back. From her dainty ears hung pink sapphires set in silver.

  “Are my brother’s women to join us?” Hamal inquired curiously.

  “It did not seem fair that I deny him their company as I have yours, my lamb,” Turkhan said.

  “Have you seen them?”

  Turkhan laughed. “How well you know me, Hamal. Yes, I watched them through the peephole in their quarters. Both are quite lovely. Tonight if you are very good, my darlings, we shall watch the unsuspecting Kedar as he makes love to his women. I am told that he is considered a highly skilled lover. Perhaps you will both learn something from him that will please me,” she teased them.

  Niall felt a chill sweep over him. “You have a secret peephole in the guest quarters?” he asked.

  Turkhan laughed. “Of course I do. My grandmother Khurrem said that such things were invaluable when you wish to know more about a guest than they wish to reveal.”

  Suddenly the princess’s eunuch majordomo announced, “The lord Kedar, my Princess.”

  Turkhan looked lazily up from beneath her thick black lashes as Kedar and his women entered the room. “You are welcome to my house, Kedar ibn Omar,” she said. “Pray be seated so the meal may begin.”

  “I am honored by your invitation, Highness. I hope that I may be of assistance to you.” Kedar seated himself, and impatiently waved Skye and Talitha to their seats, one on either side of him.

  With a swift look Skye saw Niall on one side of the princess. Her heart leapt almost painfully within her chest, for he did not look well. Quickly she lowered her eyes lest anyone see her anger at the proprietary way in which Turkhan openly caressed Niall.

  “You would not be here in my house, Kedar, were I not sure that you could be of assistance to me,” Turkhan said sharply. “Your brother has assured me that your knowledge of trading routes to the coast exceeds that of anyone else in Fez. Hamal has always been trustworthy.”

  Kedar felt a surge of impotent anger sweep over him at her bold words. That a mere woman could speak to him in such a tone infuriated him. Ottoman princess or no, if he had her in his power for even a single night he would have her tamed and begging for mercy. Instead, he was forced to give a pleasant reply, but both Hamal and Turkhan had seen the quick anger that had flashed for a moment in his eyes. “I am pleased that my young brother is such a source of joy to you, Highness. I raised him myself.”

  Turkhan smiled sweetly, but there was a triumphant look in her eyes that Kedar did not miss, and he ground his teeth in frustration. Seeing that her master was incensed, Talitha leaned forward, took the cup that had been placed before him, and held it to his lips. “Drink, my lord,” she said, and then in a lower tone: “You cannot offend the princess, my lord. Calm yourself, I beg of you.”

  Kedar turned to look at Talitha, and he nodded his agreement. He took the cup and drank a long draught of the icy and tart lemon water. “You are wise, Talitha,” he said, “with a wisdom that matches your beauty.” His hazel eyes scanned her, and the anger drained away. She was most beautiful this evening, and her costume extremely flattering, and pleasing to his eye. She was garbed all in sheer pale-gold silk. Her pantaloons were edged at the ankles in tiny sparkling topaz which matched the topaz sewn to her cloth-of-gold hip sash and her satin bolero. She wore a long-sleeved blouse with a soft open neckline that matched her see-through pantaloons. A headdress of gold chains and twinkling topaz formed a fitted cap over her short-cropped curls. She was everything that a woman should be, and Kedar was delighted with her, for he felt she brought honor upon him.

  A leg of baby lamb was brought out and offered to them. Next followed saffron rice, artichokes in olive oil and tarragon vinegar, haunch of young gazelle in raisin sauce, pigeon pie, capon with lemon, and new peas with small onions. A platter of sizzling kebobs made of kid, green peppers, and small onions was passed; and blue and white Fezware bowls of yogurt and purple and green olives were set upon each table.

  “You will forgive the simplicity of the meal,” Turkhan said.

  “A well-cooked meal is never simple,” Kedar replied, “and your cook prepares well.” He opened his mouth to take the piece of lamb that Muna was feeding him. He was feeling expansive now and with the constant attentions of his women, at less of a disadvantage. He beamed benevolently at Muna. Her garb—or lack of it—was as pleasing to him as was the elegance of Talitha. Muna wore diaphanous blush-pink pantaloons with pearl ankle bands. Her hip sash was of pink and silver stripes, and above the waist she was nude. Her small, perfect breasts, their nipples stained with carmine, thrust forward proudly. Her waist-length hair was loose, held only with a narrow silver band at her forehead. For a moment Kedar’s eyes lingered on Muna’s breasts, and he thought of the pleasure she had given him over these last few months, of the pleasure she would give him this night.

  Skye’s eyes again stole across the room to feast for a brief moment upon Niall. She knew that he must be feeling foolish in his Eastern dress, and she wished she could tell him how magnificent he appeared with his tanned chest. He looked thinner, and she wondered if he was getting enough to eat, then chided herself for a fool. If only he would look at her instead of paying such outrageous attention to the red-haired princess. Skye thought if her husband touched Turkhan with another intimate touch, or gave her one more secret smile, that she was going to throw herself across the room and strangle the smug bitch! Kedar’s voice snapped her back to her role.

  “The princess sets a satisfactory table, but I should far rather feast upon your flesh, my jewel.” His voice was husky with desire.

  She raised her sapphire eyes to him, and smiled a s
low and seductive smile. “Would you shame me before that woman, my lord?” she murmured low. “I am for your pleasure only, and not the eyes of prying voyeurs, my lord.” Her red mouth pouted adorably, and Kedar wanted her desperately. Her pure female fragrance wafted up at him, and he grew dizzy thinking of what it felt like to be deep inside of her.

  Niall Burke stared for a second at his wife, and ground his teeth silently as Kedar fondled her with a familiar hand. In his mind he had accepted what Skye had done in order to reach him, but accepting the fact was far different from watching the reality. Hamal’s brother was an attractive man, and obviously a potent one. He openly handled Skye with the pleasure of a man who is fond of his favorite possession; and she seemed to enjoy it. She smiled seductively at him, and murmured in a low musical voice words that could not be distinguished. Niall wanted to leap the distance between himself and Kedar so he might stick a knife into the bastard’s gullet.

  “You are deep in thought, Ashur,” Turkhan’s voice brought him back.

  “I dream of tonight, if I dare, my princess.” He touched her face with the back of his hand, smoothing it over her soft skin.

  “Tonight,” she whispered conspiratorially, “we shall spy upon our guest, the three of us, and then we shall all play together, my glorious one. I shall exceed your dreams, Ashur, my beloved.”

  Boldly Niall leaned forward and kissed her upturned mouth quickly. “Your pardon, my Princess, but I could not resist.”

  Turkhan laughed shakily, and tapped his cheek with a long sharp nail in mock chastisement. Then she turned to Kedar. “Which of these women is the one Hamal tells me your uncle in Algiers gave you?” she asked him.

  “You may present yourself to the princess,” Kedar said to Skye.

  She arose gracefully, walked across the floor, and fell to her knees in total obedience. “Highness, I am Muna,” she said, her head bowed to the floor, her body bent.

  “Stand up so I may see you, girl! You are reputed to be most fair, but how can I tell when you are in that position?”