“You will see him in a group, mistress, not alone. The hearings are public. He merely wants you in attendance.”
“And what happens at a hearing?”
“The pasha metes out justice.”
“I’d pay good money to see that,” Sarah muttered bitterly, holding out her wrists as Memtaz adorned them with silver bangles.
“Beg pardon?” Memtaz said.
“I don’t see how an unjust man can mete out justice.”
“The pasha is known as a very fair prince, and his people consider themselves fortunate to be governed by such a ruler.”
“Hmmph,” Sarah said, and then pushed away the silver diadem Memtaz was trying to drape across her forehead.
“I can’t wear that, Memtaz, it makes me crosseyed.”
“What is that?”
“I can’t see! Look, I’m decked out like a Christmas tree as it is. Let’s just go.”
“What is a Christmas tree?”
“A fir tree decorated with baubles. In my country we cut them down and bring them into our houses in celebration of a holiday.”
Memtaz raised her brows. “And you say that our customs are strange?”
Two eunuchs appeared in the doorway expectantly.
“It is time,” Memtaz said.
Sarah glanced around briefly at the lavish apartment. The ikbal’s chamber was only slightly smaller than Kosem’s, and Sarah did not have quite the extensive collection of jewelry and clothing that littered the valide pashana’s rooms, but in other respects the two apartments were similar. Mirrors and gilt furniture and colorful rugs abounded, and the sandstone walls cast a rosy lavender glow over every luxurious appointment.
Sarah looked away wearily.
She was truly a bird in a gilded cage.
“I’m ready,” she said, and the eunuchs parted to let her pass.
Kalid entered his throne room behind the procession of functionaries and saw immediately that Sarah was missing. The seat next to Kosem was empty.
Kalid walked across the immense bird of paradise rug that covered the pink marble floor and ascended the red carpeted steps leading to his throne. The chair itself, of rich dark mahogany and contrasting balsa wood, was carved with intricate arabesques painted in gold and lapis, and the high latticed back was studded with precious gems. He turned and faced his audience, and all of the people in it bowed with one motion, arms folded at midsection, heads inclining toward the floor. He waited until they looked up again and then sat regally, extending his hand to a scribe who gave him a list of cases to be decided.
The men were seated on his right, his chief clerks and accountants and the procurator of each district in Bursa, as well as his khislar and the caption of his guards. To his left were the women, all veiled, his grandmother and lesser relatives from the harem, present to witness the dispensing of his legendary wisdom. A selected audience of common people were also admitted to this ceremony once a month, and they rustled their clothing fitfully, awed to be in the presence of the pasha.
Only Sarah was absent.
Kalid looked over the sheet of paper in his hand and then glanced up again. Everyone waited for him to begin.
At that moment a side door opened and two eunuchs came through it, followed by Sarah and Memtaz. Kalid held up his hand, and they all stopped moving.
Sarah looked around the packed room, then at the dais, where an empty seat loomed next to Kosem.
Sarah had a sinking feeling that it was for her.
Kalid said something in Turkish and gestured pointedly toward the dais.
“Go up and sit next to the valide pashana,” Memtaz whispered fiercely. “Hurry, you are already late.”
It seemed to take an eternity for Sarah to cross the ocean of carpeting that led to the dais, and she could feel all eyes on her back as she stepped up to take her seat. She avoided Kalid’s gaze as she folded her hands in her lap and looked at a point on the far wall above his khislar’s turbaned head.
Kalid clapped his hands and the hearing began. The procurator of each district had selected a case appropriate for the pasha’s review, and Sarah became interested in spite of herself as the event progressed. She could not understand most of what was being said, but Kosem gave a running, sotto voce translation of the proceedings that enabled Sarah to follow each judgment as it was rendered.
The first man complained that a neighbor had stolen his wife, and it evolved during the testimony that the deserted husband had beaten his spouse. Kalid dissolved the first marriage and awarded the wife to the neighbor, explaining that any man who mistreated his wife deserved to lose her.
Kosem nodded vigorously. “Very sound,” she commented to Sarah, who studied her captor over the veil covering her nose and mouth as he listened to each petitioner in turn and then rendered his opinion.
Kalid was wearing a dark blue military uniform with a gold sash draped with medals. He gave a full hearing to each person who spoke, then replied thoughtfully, in a carefully modulated voice that commanded attention as well as respect. By the time he reached the fourth case, a boundary dispute between two sheepherders over grazing land, Sarah knew why he had insisted on her presence at this hearing. He obviously wanted her to see him in a role other than sexual predator, and his plan was working.
She was impressed.
“My grandson is very wise, is he not?” said the valide pashana, as if she had read Sarah’s mind.
Sarah turned to look at the old lady, who was watching her with a sly smile, her eyes full of knowledge above her silken veil.
“I suppose he’s doing well,” Sarah conceded.
“Well! There is no fairer pasha in the Sultanate, and everyone says so. And none more handsome, surely you would agree?”
Sarah had to smile. Kosem was relentless.
“He shaved his beard for you, did you know that?” Kosem hissed. “He thought you would find him more attractive without it, since it is the Western custom to go clean shaven.”
Kalid was enormously attractive to Sarah with or without the beard, and doubtless he knew it. “Actually, beards are in style in the West now, especially in my country and in England. The Prince of Wales has a full beard,” Sarah replied perversely.
“But why cover such a beautiful face with hair?” Kosem said. “Kalid favors his mother. She was a gavur, but she was a lovely creature. Too pale, of course, like you, but he has her compelling features. Except for the nose. He has his father’s nose.”
Kalid’s khislar, a tall Sudanese named Achmed, turned and threw Kosem a dirty look.
Kosem shot him a rude gesture in return. “He wants me to be quiet,” Kosem muttered to Sarah. “The man is overbearing. Kalid indulges him too much. I’ll be dead soon enough, and then he’ll hear nothing further from me.”
Sarah turned away and bit her lip to keep from laughing.
For somebody who talked about dying all the time, Kosem was remarkably full of life.
The hearing went on for more than two hours, with Kalid disposing of some twenty cases before he was done. Then he concluded the proceedings and left the throne room without looking at Sarah once.
The khislar stood in front of the gathering and said something in Turkish. Then the harem ladies and their advisors filed out of the room through doors leading to the interior of the palace as the people thronged out through the courtyard gate.
“Is that it?” Sarah said.
“Justice has been done,” Kosem said.
But not for me, Sarah thought.
Memtaz approached with a member of the pasha’s guard, and Sarah knew from the look on her face that the favorite had received another ‘come hither’ from on high.
The servant brought her hands together and bowed from the waist. “My lord Kalid requires your presence in the stables,” she said.
“The stables?” Sarah said.
“You are to receive your first riding lesson.”
In a pig’s eye, Sarah thought. “Will you please tell your lord Kalid that I
have no desire to learn how to ride or to see him. I will be resting in my room.” She stalked down the corridor, the eunuchs falling into step behind her as Memtaz turned unhappily to convey the message to Kalid’s man.
Sarah returned to the ikbal’s apartment and flung herself face down on her sleeping couch. She lay immobile, like a sullen child, for several minutes, her cheek pressed to the muslin cover of the feather bed. Then she stood and methodically stripped off her finery, item by item. She was left standing barefoot in her linen shift, which was sleeveless and gossamer thin, clinging to her body like a second skin. She lay back down and stared at the ornate plaster ceiling, painted with a pastoral scene of nymphs and shepherds, wondering how long she would be able to stand this captivity before she went insane.
After a couple of minutes she heard a commotion in the corridor—feminine screams and thuds and the sound of excited voices. She sat up to see Kalid storming through the entrance to her outer chamber as the tirewomen working there started up and then fell prostrate to the floor in fright.
Memtaz scurried in his wake, wringing her hands, in tears. She was followed by Sarah’s two eunuchs, wide eyed with alarm.
“Out,” Kalid shouted in Turkish. “Everybody out! Clear the room right now.”
The wardrobers scrambled to their feet and fled, followed by two terrified servants who had been trimming the lamps. The eunuchs looked at one another and withdrew to the hall, while Memtaz stood rooted, weeping loudly.
“Stop that noise!” Kalid flung at her.
Memtaz stuffed her fist into her mouth and sobbed around it as she ran out the door.
“Leave her alone, you bully,” Sarah said to Kalid. “Whatever you’re throwing a fit about is not her fault.”
“No, it is yours,” Kalid said, his hands on his hips, his eyes locked with hers.
“What are you talking about?” Sarah said disdainfully.
“I gave you a direct order and you disregarded it.”
“Go to hell.” Sarah turned her back on him.
Kalid reached around her and grabbed the neck of her shift; it bunched in his hand as he pulled her around to face him.
“You still do not seem to appreciate your situation here,” he said softly, his dark eyes inches from hers. “When I summon you, Sarah, you come to me.”
“The old order changes, yielding forth to new,” Sarah said, holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed. “What is that?”
“You people are always quoting your ancient books, I thought I’d throw in one of mine.”
“You will learn to obey me,” he said softly, ignoring the quip, still holding her.
“Or what? You’ll kill me? I think we’ve been through that one before, haven’t we?”
“Or I will order that your servant Memtaz be given twenty lashes,” Kalid said smoothly.
Sarah’s mouth fell open in shock.
He smiled down at her triumphantly.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered.
He stepped back from her and folded his arms, still wearing that superior smile.
Sarah was stunned. She couldn’t comprehend such staggering unfairness, especially from someone who had just demonstrated exquisite judgment in dealing with legal cases from all over his kingdom.
“Is this what you learned at Oxford College, donme pasha?” Sarah said quietly.
“This is what I learned from my father. I could have you whipped and you would endure it, cursing me with every kiss of the lash. But if I threaten a dependent, you will spring to her defense and do what I want in order to spare her. You are such an American.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Sarah said flatly.
“It was not intended as one. Your Yankee sensibilities are allowing me to win. You are out maneuvered, kourista.” As he said the last word he extended a slender forefinger and slipped it inside the scoop neck of her shift, tracing the valley between her breasts.
Sarah flinched away from him.
“Ah. You were not so reluctant the other night.”
Sarah’s face flamed as she remembered the way she had clung to him, pressing his mouth eagerly to her swollen nipple.
“Aren’t you breaking your own rules, coming into the harem?” she retorted, saying the first thing that came into her head. “I thought men were forbidden to enter it.”
“I do as I please,” he replied.“You would profit by remembering that. Now I will expect you in one quarter of an hour at the stables, dressed for riding, or your servant will suffer the consequences.” He turned on his heel and strode from the room.
Sarah sat heavily on the sleeping couch, clenching and unclenching her fists.
She had to get out of this place.
She bit her thumbnail, tortured by questions. Where was James, and why wasn’t he doing anything to help her? Was it possible he didn’t even know where she was? Did Roxalena know what her father had done, and would she confront him about it if she did? And wasn’t there any way at all to slip out of the palace? The harem women were so well guarded that escape seemed impossible, but Memtaz often spoke of bathing outings to the Bosporus and shopping trips to the Kahouli bazaar. The women were heavily veiled and closely watched whenever they ventured beyond the walls, but at least then it would not be necessary to negotiate the labyrinth of the palace to reach the outside world.
She would already be there.
Memtaz came bustling through the anteroom with a stack of clothes in her hands.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, standing and putting her hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
“I am fine, mistress. I was only upset that I had displeased my master.”
Sarah sighed. “I take it those are for me.”
“Yes. You will please to put these on and then join Pasha Kalid in the stables.”
“Why not?” Sarah said. “Sounds like a peachy idea.” She sighed again and donned the long sleeved, button-front silk blouse, along with the split suede riding skirt and lace-up boots. When she was ready, she marched out of the ikbal’s chamber and picked up her escort, the two eunuchs who, as usual, already had their orders. They led Sarah through the Boxwood Gardens and past the Open Pool and through the Bird House Gate.
Once on the other side of the kushane, they entered an equestrian world, complete with paddock and jumping rings and a long series of stables. The eunuchs stopped at the first stable.Sarah walked inside, where Kalid was waiting, grooming a splendid white Arabian with a braided forelock and tail.
“Good, you’re here,” he said, when he looked up and saw her. “I’m going to teach you to ride.”
He was wearing tight twill trousers with a loose cotton shirt and highly polished riding boots. The shirt had dolman sleeves and a lace-up V neck, and it was tucked into a rawhide belt. This was the first time Sarah had ever seen Kalid in Western dress, and the impact on her was considerable.
She came to the reluctant conclusion that he would look good in anything.
“How can you be sure that I don’t know how to ride already?” she asked, to cover her reaction.
“Schoolteachers from Boston do not ride horses.”
“You might be surprised at what this schoolteacher from Boston can do,” Sarah said darkly.
He smiled. “No doubt, but today we will concentrate on getting you astride and maintaining the proper stance.”
“Why is it so important that I learn to ride a horse?” Sarah asked wearily.
“I want you to accompany me when I make tours of my lands,” he replied, slipping a bridle over the Arabian’s head.
“I don’t want to accompany you anywhere.”
“That is immaterial.” Often he sounded like the British solicitors who had once been his classmates, and it was almost possible to forget that he was really an Eastern potentate who was holding her against her will. But then he became the pasha again, shouting orders and ruling her life, and she remembered.
A stableman came forward leading a mare and Kalid said,
“Ah, here is Ousta, for you. A sorrel, very gentle.” He took the horse’s lead and dismissed the attendant.
“And what is your horse’s name?” Sarah asked.
“Khan.”
“As in Genghis Khan?”
“The very same.”
Sarah nodded wearily.
Kalid led Khan outside and put him into the paddock, where he trotted around happily, stopping every so often to munch some grass.
“We won’t be needing Khan for the moment,” Kalid said, as he brought Ousta out onto the first trail and gave Sarah the reins. She held them as Kalid saddled the horse and said, “Ousta will be able to tell that you’re inexperienced, so once you’re seated, I’ll lead you around for a while so that she doesn’t run away with you.
“That’s comforting.”
He cupped his hands and gave her a leg up onto the horse’s back. He was very close as he lifted her swiftly, and she had a blunt impression of masculine strength that made her swallow and turn her head. He kept his hands on her waist a few seconds longer than was necessary, and Sarah knew that this lesson was going to be even more trying than she had anticipated.
Ousta whinnied and reared slightly. Sarah clung to the pommel desperately.
“Get me down off this thing,” she gasped. “I feel as if I’m forty feet in the air.”
Kalid laughed. “Now take the reins,” he said, as he handed her the leather straps. “And don’t pull too much or you’ll hurt her. The bit will cut into her mouth.”
“Hurt her! What about me?”
“You’ll be just fine. I am here. Now sit up very straight and don’t slouch.”
Sarah tried.
“Relax your back muscles,” Kalid said.
“Stop barking at me. I’m doing the best I can.”
He reached up and ran one hand down her spine, then positioned her shoulders. “Better?” he said.
“Yes,” she replied grudgingly.
“Good. Now hold the reins tightly enough to maintain control but not enough to pull the horse’s head back. Try it.”
Sarah did.
“That’s fine. Now I’m going to slap her and she’ll walk forward. I’ll walk beside you.”
“She’ll run away,” Sarah said anxiously.
The Panther and The Pearl Page 7
