“Quick!” commanded Theadora. “Fetch my richest robes! The gold brocade will do. My finest jewels! Baba!” She called to a black slave entering the cabin. “Hurry! Get the prince, and garb him likewise!”
Several minutes later Theadora came on deck just in time to see the pirate ship draw alongside the disabled royal Ottoman vessel. From its rigging hung some of the most evil-looking men Theadora had ever seen. God help us, she thought. But she stood still, proudly.
The sultan’s young wife was a regal sight with the heavy gold brocade caftan, a magnificent necklace of rough-cut rubies, and matching dangle earrings of red gold and rubies. She wore several rings: a ruby, a turquoise, and a pink diamond on her left hand; a blue diamond and a sapphire on her right hand. Over her dark hair was a long sheer silver-and-gold-striped gauze veil. A smaller veil was drawn across her face.
Prince Halil was equally magnificent in striped pants of white silk and silver brocade, a long, open matching coat with a white silk shirt. He wore a little cloth-of-silver turban with a peacock feather sprouting from a large tiger’s eye. He stood next to his mother, his hand upon the gold scimitar given him by his brother, Murad. The royal Ottoman couple were protectively surrounded by their slaves, the woman Iris, and a half a dozen prime, young black fighting eunuchs.
Because of his two royal passengers and also because of the pitiful state of the ship, Captain Hassan surrendered immediately to the obvious disappointment of the pirate crew who were spoiling for a fight. The pirate captain stood out easily among his men. He was a tall blond giant with a short, dark gold beard. He wore white pantaloons sashed in black silk. His bare chest was covered with a mat of tight gold curls. He was sun-bronzed, very muscular, and carried a beautiful gold scimitar in his hand. His feet were shod in knee-length boots of softest leather, with gold designs stamped on them.
At his order, Captain Hassan and his three officers were lined up and forced to their knees. At a nod from their captain, four pirates stepped forward, quickly strangled their unfortunate prisoners, and then threw the bodies overboard.
The ship was now deathly quiet. The blond giant turned slowly and looked over the assembled crew of The Prince Halil. “I am Alexander the Great,” his deep voice boomed. “I sail out of Phocaea. I offer you a fair choice. Join me, or die as your captain and his officers died.”
“We join you!” the Ottoman sailors shouted with one voice.
Alexander the Great now turned to Theadora and her son. Instantly the black eunuchs closed ranks and assumed a defensive position about the prince and his mother. “No!” she commanded them. They stepped aside, allowing the pirate captain a clear passage to her. He approached her and, for a moment he and Theadora stood silently, gauging one another. He had, she noted, eyes the color of a fine aquamarine—a clear blue-green.
Reaching out, he fingered the ruby necklace. Then he ripped it from her neck. All the while his blue eyes never left her violet eyes. Swiftly he tore the veil from her face, but she did not flinch. He sighed. Flinging the ruby necklace to the deck, he said, “One look at your beautiful face, my exquisite one, has rendered the jewels worthless. Is the rest of you as incomparably fair?” His hand went to the high neck of her brocade robe, and then it was she who spoke.
“I am Princess Theadora of Bursa, wife to Sultan Orkhan, sister to the emperor and empress of Byzantium. The child is the sultan’s and my son, Prince Halil. Unharmed, we should bring you a great fortune. But if you continue to make extravagant gestures—” She glanced first toward the necklace on the deck, and then down to his hand, which still held her gown, “you could easily end your days a poor man.”
His eyes swept admiringly over her and it seemed he was weighing her words. Then he laughed. “What a pity I value gold so highly, beauty. I should have enjoyed teaching you how to be a real woman.” He laughed again as the color flooded her face. “I must transfer you to my ship,” he continued, “but you and your party will be safe, my lady. We will be in Phocaea by nightfall, and then I will house you in my palace until your ransom is paid.” His big hand then moved from her neckline to cup her chin. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Keep yourself veiled, madame, or I may regret my practical nature. I already feel myself growing reckless.”
He turned abruptly away from her and began calling out orders. The Prince Halil was to be sailed into Phocaea by a skeleton crew where it would be repaired and join the pirate navy. Its crew and galley slaves would be dispersed among other ships once they arrived in Phocaea. Theadora and her party were helped aboard the pirate vessel and taken to the captain’s cabin, where they would remain until they reached their destination that night. Still exhausted from the previous night, Theadora made herself comfortable on the captain’s bed with Halil for company. Iris guarded the door while the princess and her son slept.
In the very late afternoon they reached the pirate city of Phocaea, and Alexander sent for a barge to transport his captives to his palace. It was located on the sea some two miles from the city. Sitting amid the velvet and silk cushions of the luxurious vessel with her captor Theadora learned that he was the younger son of a Greek nobleman and therefore forced to make his own way in life. Since his youth he had loved the sea and had turned to it for what was proving a most rewarding living.
His wife, a childhood sweetheart, was dead now. He had not remarried, but rather kept a harem of women in the Eastern way. He assured Theadora that she would not be cloistered. She would be free to roam the grounds of his estate, providing she gave him her word that she would not try to escape. Theadora gave it. Had she been alone she would not have acquiesced so easily, but she had Halil and Iris to consider.
As if he read her thoughts he inclined his head toward her son. “I am glad they are with you, beauty. You are too lovely to have to be caged.”
“Do you read minds also, pirate?”
“Sometimes.” Then in a lower voice. “You are too lovely to belong to an old man, beauty. If you had a lusty young man between your legs it might take the sadness from your eyes.”
She flushed crimson and said, in a soft, angry voice, “You forget yourself, pirate!”
The aquamarine eyes laughed at her outrage, and the man’s mouth mocked her. “My lineage is almost as good as yours, princess. Certainly the younger son of a Greek noble is equal to the younger daughter of a Greek usurper.”
Her hand flashed out, leaving its imprint on his cheek. But before she could hit him again he caught her by the wrist and held the hand in a firm grasp. Fortunately, Iris and Halil were too interested in the sights of the busy pirate harbor to witness the exchange between Theadora and Alexander. Slowly, the pirate captain turned Theadora’s hand palm upward and, holding her startled glance with his, placed a burning kiss in the center of the soft flesh.
“Madame,” his voice was dangerously low, “you have not yet been ransomed. Another man might fear to take what is the sultan’s, but I do not. And who would know if I did?”
The kiss had sent an almost painful ache through her. Now, white with shock, she whispered shakily, “You would not dare!”
He smiled his slow, mocking smile. “The idea is beginning to tempt me, beauty.”
The barge bumped against the side of the marble quay, and Alexander leapt out to help tie it to his pier. Well-trained slaves appeared to help Theadora and her party from the boat and led her to her quarters. The royal party had three spacious rooms with a private bath and a terraced garden, which faced west over the blue sea. A sweet-faced slavegirl showed Theadora a wardrobe filled with her clothes, brought from the ship. Halil and Iris found that their possessions had been brought as well.
“The master does not steal from his guests,” said the slavegirl primly, and Theadora bit back an urge to laugh.
They did not see Alexander again that day. A well-cooked meal accompanied by an excellent wine was served to them. After the ordeal of the storm they all sought their beds early.
Theadora awoke in the night to find Alexander standing
over her bed. In the moonlight that poured through the windows she could see the desire on his face. She moved to turn her naked body from his sight and trembled when he said, “I know you are awake, beauty.”
“Go away,” she whispered fiercely, not daring to turn back to face him. “If anyone knew you were here, do you think the sultan would pay to get me back?”
“You forget that this is my house, beauty.”
“Even your house has its quota of spies,” she answered. “Go away!”
“If it will reassure you, I entered the room through a little-used interior passage—the existence of which is known by no one other than me. Besides, your son sleeps the sleep of the innocent and your slave drank a cup of wine tonight that had a sleeping draught in it. Even now she is snoring like a pig.”
“You dared?” She was incredulous.
“My very existence is a dare,” he replied. “Come, beauty, do not turn from me.” Reaching out, he turned her to face him. “Christos!” His voice was awed. “The body more than rivals the face!”
She shrank from him. “You can rape me,” she said quietly, “and though I cannot hope to overcome you I will later find a way to kill myself. I swear it, Alexander!”
“No, beauty, no,” he protested, drawing her into the circle of his arm. “Do not speak such foolishness to me.” His hand moved boldly, with assurance, making her tremble with a terrible mixture of fear and open desire. “I will not force you, for you are a guest in my house. But, ah, these sweet breasts will be very sad to go unloved this night.” Ever so gently he fondled the soft swell of flesh. The coral nipples sprang erect, and a little moan escaped her throat.
“Ah, beauty, you want it as much as I do! Why do you fight me?”
“Please!” She pushed his hands away. “You say you will not force me because I am a guest in your home. Your honor forbids it, does it not? Think then of my honor, Alexander. For though I am but a woman, I too have my honor. I am Orkhan’s wife, the mother of his son. I do not love my husband, and I will not deny that my body hungers for a young man’s touch. But as long as my lord lives, it will not be! You see, captain pirate, I too, have my honor to consider. Even if no one but us knew, I should feel that my honor was compromised. Can you understand that?”
He smiled ruefully. “I had heard that John Cantacuzene had an overeducated daughter. You reason like a Greek, beauty! Very well. I am bested for now, and I will leave you in peace this night. But I cannot promise to stay away forever. My baser instincts may overcome me.
“I will, however, exact a small vengeance before I go, for I do not think I shall quench the fire you have raised in me.”
And before she understood his intent he had clasped her tightly in his arms, their bodies touching from breast to thigh. They sprawled across the length of the bed, and she felt the softness of his chest hair tickling her bare breasts, the hardness of his manroot butting against her shaking thighs. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, his tongue raping her mouth with a naked passion that left her nearly fainting. She wanted to yield to him. She wanted his hardness deep inside her!
Releasing her, he smiled and stood up. “May you and your honor enjoy your stay in my house, Theadora, wife of Orkhan,” he said mockingly.
Frozen with shock, she watched as he disappeared behind a wall-hanging. Only when she was sure he had left the room did she weep. He had reminded her of something she had managed to hide from herself for all these years. He had reminded her that she was a woman. A young woman. With the same hot desire running through her as any young woman had.
She had no outlet for her hunger. Her husband’s touch disgusted her, and the memory of Murad burned deep within her secret heart. She almost regretted sending Alexander away. His body had felt wonderful against hers, and she sensed that he would be a magnificent lover. Was he right? Indeed, who would know? Could she live with her guilt if she allowed the liaison? Theadora wept bitter tears, for she could see nothing but a long and loveless future stretching endlessly ahead of her.
Chapter Nine
The man who called himself Alexander the Great was not a reckless gallant, but a shrewd businessman. His main base, the city of Phocaea was located between the emirates of Karasi and Sarakhan, opposite the island of Lesbos. Though Phocaea had a ruler, it was Alexander and his pirates who brought prosperity to the city and who really controlled it. Alexander also had bases on the islands of Chios, Lemnos, and Imbros. He had spies and coast-watchers on the smaller islands as well, thereby effectively controlling the shipping lanes in the Aegean and the areas leading to the Straits of the Dardanelles, into the Bosporus, and beyond into the Black Sea.
Merchants whose vessels regularly traveled these waters paid him an annual tribute plus a percentage of the proceeds of each voyage. There was no chance of cheating Alexander—for they were required to stand for inspection prior to each voyage. Without the inspection there was no pendant issued for their top masts. And ships without Alexander’s color-coded pendants were considered fair game and usually had their entire cargos confiscated.
Alexander preferred to receive his tribute in gold, but he would accept merchandise. Twice yearly, several of his ships sailed west into northern Europe where their cargos of silk, perfumes, and spices brought the highest possible prices. They returned bringing their master gold and fair-haired, fair-skinned, light-eyed young slaves of both sexes. There were many large landholders who were willing—for a length of silk or a packet of precious spices or a silver coin—to send attractive, healthy, young serfs from their holdings into slavery. These young people were then sold to the highest bidder in private auction, attended only by wealthy connoisseurs. Alexander thus realized a double profit on his investments.
It was the Byzantine military intelligence service, known as the Office of Barbarians, that brought Alexander the Great to the Empress Helena’s attention. Her current lover was the officer who ran the service. Knowing that her sister would be returning by sea from the Springs of Apollo, Helena sent word to Alexander that she would like Theadora and her son killed. For this service she agreed to pay a large sum of gold. Alexander was many things, but he was not a paid assassin. And he knew more about the Byzantines than they knew about him. Helena could not afford the money she offered.
But he was greatly in her debt for the information she had unwittingly tendered him. The sultan’s wife and son would fetch a very high ransom. He had therefore arranged to know when and by what route their ship was sailing. He would have lost them but for the storm which so kindly deposited them off his city’s coast.
One glimpse of Theadora had cost Alexander his heart. She was lovelier than any woman he had ever known. It did not bother him a bit that she was the sultan’s wife. He was a ruler in his own right and what he wanted, he took. But he had miscalculated when he assumed that she would be eager enough for love to forget all else. He had pushed her too far and too quickly. To win her he would have to out-think her. Alexander was a hunter by nature, and the thought of the chase was quite stimulating. It would be weeks before his council could agree on a ransom price for the princess and her son. After that further time would be spent in negotiations. Several months would go by before the ransom was settled and paid. He had time.
For the next few days Theadora saw little of her captor, and she was quite relieved. It had not been easy to withstand his assault. She remained in her apartments, and for exercise she walked out several times daily, in the garden, with Iris for company. She rarely saw Halil. He was busy with his new friends, Alexander’s several sons by his concubines, even eating and sleeping with them.
“It is better this way,” she told Iris. “To him it is simply an adventure. He will bear no scars from the experience.”
After several weeks Alexander appeared in her apartment one evening, carrying a chess set. “I thought we might enjoy a game together,” he said pleasantly.
She smiled. “How do you know I play?”
“Because you are your father’s dau
ghter and flawless in the art of logic. The game of chess is an exercise in logic. However, if you don’t play then I shall teach you, beauty.”
“Set up the board, Alexander, and prepare to be beaten. Iris, fetch some chilled wine and some cakes for us.”
The chessboard was a work of art. Its inlaid squares were of ebony and mother-of-pearl, its pieces carved from black onyx and pure white coral. They played two games that evening. He won the first easily, for she played cautiously. Then she took the second from him, playing with an almost reckless abandon.
He laughed as she checked his queen. “You were only gauging my measure in the first game,” he accused.
“I was. I could hardly beat you if I did not study your method of playing.”
“I have never been beaten by a woman.”
“If you continue to play with me, my lord Alexander, you will have to take that chance. I play to win, and I will not contrive to lose simply because I am a woman.”
“Spoken like a true Greek!” he approved teasingly.
Now it was her turn to laugh. “I am not sure whether you approve or disapprove, Alexander.”
“I am Greek born, beauty, and therefore am used to women of great intellect. But I have lived here in Asia long enough to understand the Eastern treatment of women. It has its good points also. But it’s been a long time since I’ve really talked to a woman.”
“It has been a long time since I’ve really talked to a man,” she rejoined.
For a moment he was startled. Then he chuckled heartily. “I forgot that you live in a harem, beauty, with only eunuchs and other women for company. Are you not often bored?”
“Sometimes, but not these last few years. My son is bright, and I have spent my time in teaching him. Then, too, I work to return Christian captives to Byzantium. When we return to Bursa, however, Halil will leave me for his own court at Nicea. I have had my son longer than most sultan’s wives are allowed their sons.”
“What will you do when he is gone, beauty?”
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