Stepping over Yasmin’s body, Skye moved to the bed and sat next to the still form of her husband. There was virtually no blood to be seen. By some twist of fate the dagger had pierced only vital organs, but no arteries. “I would be with my lord,” she said quietly, and she heard the shuffle of feet and then the closing door.
Alone, she wept her terrible grief in silent pain, rocking back and forth, holding herself, as if that would prevent her from shattering. Her head ached and waves of pain and nausea began to rack her.
Suddenly she heard Robert Small commanding, “Voice it, lass! Voice your pain or else it will kill both you and his babe. Is that what you want? If so, take Yasmin’s escape, for it’s quicker.”
She saw the Englishman standing by the door. He had never left her. Now, crossing the room in three strides, he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “Damn it, lass! Cry! Scream! Curse the heavens, but in God’s name get it out!”
She sobbed softly once, then stopped. He hit her hard several times, and suddenly her resistance broke. Opening her mouth, Skye wailed her grief with such loud and terrible cries that they echoed throughout the house. The slave women, grieving softly until then, joined in their mistress’s tragic lamentation and soon the whole house rang with grief. Shortly the sounds echoed through the entire neighborhood. People began to gather, and it was not long before everyone knew that Khalid el Bey had been murdered by his jealous slave woman, Yasmin.
Slowly Skye’s grief eased. Looking a final time on her beloved husband, she bent and kissed his cold lips. Then, supported by Robert Small, she left the room and walked downstairs to the bey’s library. “Get Jean and Marie for me, Robbie. I must be revenged, and I will need help.”
When the four of them were gathered together in private, Skye quietly repeated Yasmin’s dying words to Jean and Marie. The Frenchman was shocked, but his wife sniffed, “I would put nothing past that evil Turk. Look how he killed my little cousine, Celestine. He has no real heart, that one!” She began to weep. “He claimed to be the master’s best friend, and yet he killed him without a second thought because he wished to possess Madam!” Jean comforted his wife as best he could.
“We will both be revenged, Marie,” said Skye, “but before we can be, we must lull Jamil into a sense of security. He must not even suspect that we know he is responsible for my lord’s murder. Let him feel safe—and then we will strike!”
“You cannot revenge yourself on the Sultan’s governor and remain safely in Algiers,” said Robert Small firmly. “The dey would be forced to punish you in the Sultan’s name.”
“I cannot remain here under any circumstances, Robbie. The memories I have of Khalid and our life together would break my heart. And though I am capable of running the House of Felicity, who would do business with a woman? Sell everything here in Algiers, but do it secretly. Have the money transported to our London goldsmith.”
“The house also?” asked Jean.
“The house, the seaside kiosk, sell all.”
“What of the slaves?”
“Prepare papers of manumission for them all. I shall give each of them the price he or she is worth in order that they may all get started in another life. Those who wish to come with me may do so, but no one is to be told until we are ready to leave. I hope, Jean, that you and Marie will come with me. But if you choose to return to Brittany I will understand.”
“There is nothing for us in Brittany, my lady. Our families are gone. Marie’s entire village is gone. We would rather stay with you, for we love you as we loved the bey.”
“Thank you,” said Skye. “I would have been lost without you both.”
There was a scratching at the door, and when Skye called out, “Enter,” a slave came in to announce that the captain-governor was on his way up the driveway.
“Hold him off for a few minutes,” she told Jean. He left the room immediately. “Robbie, you go too. I shall go upstairs through the secret passage here in the library. Marie, quickly!”
Skye drew two leather-bound volumes from a shelf and, reaching into that empty space, pulled at a hidden lever. The bookcase swung open to reveal an interior staircase. “Shut it behind us, Robbie,” she said, handing him the books. Then the two women were gone. They hurried up the stairs, which opened out into Skye’s old room.
“I cannot ever go back in there,” she told Marie, referring to the bedchamber she had shared with Khalid. She quickly stripped off her white silk caftan. “Get me the azure gauze chamber robe, Marie.” Marie fetched the gown, smiled with appreciation of Skye’s strategy.
“The captain-governor will be so blinded by lust,” she remarked as Skye dressed, “that he will believe whatever you tell him, madam.”
Skye nodded. “I must not rouse his suspicions,” she said, “and I need time. Send my women to me, Marie. The captain-governor will expect to find the grieving widow surrounded by her weeping handmaidens, and I must not disappoint him.” A look of physical pain crossed her face, and suddenly she began to weep uncontrollably, her sobs interspersed with bursts of hysterical laughter. “Oh, God, Marie! It is too macabre! How Khalid would appreciate the role I play.”
Marie looked stricken, and the tears spilled from her eyes as she fled the room to do her mistress’s bidding. Skye flung herself on the divan, weeping soundlessly now. Khalid, oh, Khalid, she thought desperately. Please God, please! Let me wake and find him sleeping safely next to me! But she knew in her heart that her prayers were useless. He was dead, and lost to her. She heard the door open softly, and then her women were clustering about her like bright little butterflies, sobbing and clucking with sympathy. Skye didn’t even look up. She wept harder and soon she heard Marie’s cry of protest.
“My lord Jamil! You cannot enter my lady’s chamber! Her grief is too terrible to behold!”
“I was Khalid el Bey’s best friend,” boomed the captain-governor’s deep voice.
Allah curse him! thought Skye fiercely.
“It is my duty to comfort his widow. Step aside! Khalid would have done the same for me.”
Allah strike him down this instant, for I do not think I can face him without betraying my feelings, Skye silently shrieked. But she breathed deeply and calmed herself. Khalid would be avenged.
The door opened again, and she knew Jamil had entered. There was a flutter and she realized that her maidens had gone, leaving her alone with him. She sobbed piteously.
“Skye, my dear, I am so sorry.”
She sobbed louder, fighting not to wince when she felt his arms about her. One hand imperiously forced her head up, and he stared into her eyes. He was somewhat taken aback by the depth of her grief, but he spoke nonetheless.
“Don’t fear, beautiful Skye. I will take care of you as did Khalid.” Allah, the emeralds she was wearing were worth a king’s ransom!
“I am s-so alone now, Jamil.”
“I will take care of you,” he repeated, his eyes straying to her breasts. They seemed fuller than he had noticed before. Damn! He wished he could take her now, but it would hardly do to fuck the widow when her husband’s corpse lay still warm in the next room. There would be plenty of time for that later on. If he acted too soon he chanced losing the juicy plum of her wealth.
She pressed against him, weeping afresh, soaking his silken shirt, half swooning into his arms. By the teats of Fatima she was a rare beauty! He could hear the ragged sound of his own breathing as his hot eyes devoured her lush body. He didn’t want to release her, but he could hardly go on holding a half-conscious woman. Standing up, he carried her back to the sleeping couch and gently deposited her there.
Look your fill, you murdering bastard, she thought as she watched him through slitted eyes. Dream your lust-filled dreams for dreams are all you’ll ever have of me.
Finally Jamil sighed reluctantly, and left the room. She lay quietly until Marie joined her, saying drily, “The household has been threatened with severe punishment unless you are properly cared for, madam.”
Skye sat up. “The presumption of the man! He says he will care for me as did my lord Khalid! When he touched me it was all I could do not to vomit! Oh, Marie! Where is the justice in this world? Why should a man as kind and good as my lord Khalid die, and one as evil as Jamil live?”
The Frenchwoman’s eyes again filled with tears. “Hélas, madam! Would I could answer you, but I cannot.”
Faithful Marie remained by Skye’s side all night. Neither really slept. Arrangements for the bey’s funeral were completed in the morning, for the day was Thursday and unless he was buried by the sabbath sundown there could be no funeral until Saturday. The body was first washed, then wrapped in a seamless white shroud. The shroud had been dipped in Mecca’s sacred Zamzam well when Khalid el Bey made his pilgrimage to the holy city.
Led by the captain-governor and the bey’s beautiful tragic widow who was garbed entirely in white, a thin mourning band around her head, the funeral procession made its way from the villa through the city to the cemetery, following a careful ritual of lamentations by the women and readings from the Koran by the men.
The bey’s tomb, a small, domed white marble building, overlooked the harbor. Carefully the body was laid to rest on its side, facing the holy city, and final prayers for his safe arrival in Paradise were said by the young mullah who had married them. Skye had allowed Yasmin to be buried honorably, and her shrouded body was placed at her master’s feet in hopes that she would serve him better in Paradise. In her grief, Skye attempted to remain in the tomb with her husband and had to be carried out.
With sundown, Skye was safe from Jamil for twenty-four hours, and in those twenty-four hours Jean worked feverishly with Robert Small and Simon ben Judah to put the bey’s affairs in order. The goldsmith, whose own sabbath followed the Moslem one, knew of several prospective buyers for the bey’s business. They could not be approached, however, until Sunday, the first day of the week.
On Saturday morning a slave was dispatched to the Casbah fort, bearing a message for the captain-governor. Jamil read the neatly written words twice, as if seeking a hidden meaning.
“My lord Jamil. I am deeply appreciative of your kindness to me. For the next thirty days I shall be secluded in deepest mourning, and will receive no visitors. I know you will honor my grief.” It was signed, “the lady Skye, widow to Khalid el Bey.”
Jamil gritted his teeth with annoyed frustration. He was aware that he could hardly propose marriage to a newly widowed woman, but he had hoped to sweep her off her feet, thus preventing any other suitors from courting her. Then a thought struck him, and he smiled. The thirty days could easily work to his advantage. Skye was young and used to regular lovemaking. After a month of abstinence, she should succumb quickly. He smilingly dictated a proper reply to her letter.
“Lady Skye. Your period of mourning will be honored, though reluctantly. I shall call upon you thirty-one days from this date.” It was signed: “Jamil, Captain-Governor of the Casbah Fortress.”
Skye read the message and chuckled with delight. She could sense the pent-up frustration, and was pleased to hurt him even in this small way. Within a month Khalid el Bey’s affairs in Algiers would be settled, and she would have made good her escape.
And as if Khalid’s spirit watched over her, the days sped smoothly by and everything proceeded toward the sale of the bey’s interests. Simon ben Judah explained smoothly to prospective buyers that there were those less reputable than they who might wish to cheat a young widow, so it was best that negotiations remain strictly secret. Since none of those involved wished others to know of the bidding, the secret was kept. When a bargain was finally struck, Skye found herself twice as rich as Khalid el Bey had left her. The monies, all in gold coin, were transferred to London. Both the villa and the seaside kiosk were sold to Osman the astrologer.
Osman was one of the few people she saw during her mourning. He had come one afternoon to tell her that he wanted the house and kiosk for himself and his beautiful slave woman, the same girl Khalid el Bey had given him. She sold to him readily, happy that someone she knew and liked would live in happiness in the places where she had been so happy. She and Osman sat in the villa garden and she served him Turkish coffee and small honey cakes.
“You are with child,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” she answered, not in the least surprised. “I had told Khalid the night before he.… He was very happy.”
“You made him very happy, Skye. You were his joy. I warned him, however, that your fate was not with him. It is back among your own people, and you will soon begin that journey back.”
“Oh, Osman! Did I cause Khalid’s death?”
“No, my dear, you did not, and you must never blame yourself. Khalid el Bey played out his fate as it had been planned since the beginning of time. Now you must play out yours.”
“Who am I, Osman?”
“I do not know, Skye, but I will tell you what I do know, what I told your husband before he married you. You were born under the sign of the ram. Your homeland is a green and misty place peopled by strong spirits and psychic forces. You will always control your own destiny, Skye, and you will eventually be reunited with your true mate.”
“Khalid el Bey was my true mate!” she snapped angrily.
“No, Skye, he was not. He loved you deeply, never doubt it. And I know that you loved him, but there is another man, a stronger force in your life. He was with you before, and will return to you in time. Follow your instincts, my dear. They will never fail you.”
“And my child?”
“Will be born safely, Skye, and live to a ripe old age, as will you.”
“Thank you, Osman. I will always have my memories of Khalid el Bey, but to have his child is a far dearer thing. Thank you for the reassurance.”
The astrologer stood up. “I will go now, my dear, and I shall bid you a final farewell now. Since I was away from the city when Khalid died, it is understandable that I pay my condolences now. If, however, the man who watches this villa so carefully for the captain-governor should see me here again it will certainly seem curious, and it will arouse suspicions, so I will not return.”
“Jamil has set men to watch my house?” she exclaimed. “How dare he! The arrogance of the man!”
Osman laughed. “My dear, he fancies himself in Khalid el Bey’s place and wishes to discourage any other suitors.”
“I would sooner wed a snake.”
“That will not be necessary,” replied the astrologer drily. “You will easily escape him. He suspects nothing. When do you leave?”
“In two nights. It will be the dark of the moon.”
“Good, but be careful. What of your slaves?”
“I have freed them, and will give them money to start a new life. Jean and Marie will come with me.”
“Tell the others that I will employ any who choose to stay. Ask those who prefer to go to remain here until I come to take possession of the house in six days. If they go about their business as usual, the captain-governor’s spies will suspect nothing. That will give you a four-day start. It should be enough to get you out into the western sea, and pursuit is virtually impossible then.”
“Oh, Osman, how can I thank you?”
He smiled at her. “By playing out your part as Allah has foretold it, my dear.”
She walked with him back into the house, bidding him a final farewell in the atrium. Taking his hand, she pressed it to her lips and forehead. “Saalam, Osman, my friend.”
“Saalam, Skye, my daughter. Allah go with you.”
During the next few days Skye’s emotions fluctuated wildly. She was frightened by the unknown awaiting her in the foreign-sounding town of London. She was elated by the fact she was outwitting Jamil, though frustrated that she could not inflict a terrible injury on him in retaliation for Khalid’s murder. She was happy and relieved that Jean, Marie, and Captain Small would be with her, but sad to leave such good friends as Osman.
Then the night of her departure arri
ved, and she stood with Marie making a final inventory of the few things she would take with her. Most of her clothing would, of course, remain. This wardrobe was hardly suitable to a life in England. She would, however, take some caftans with her to be worn in the privacy of her bedchamber. The flowing loose robes would be comfortable as her pregnancy went on. The loose gemstones Khalid had kept, as well as her marvelous jewelry, were all sewn into the garments for safe transportation. She would take her wonderful gold brushes and combs, her crystal perfume bottles filled with rare and costly essences, and other things of a sentimental and personal nature. They were all packed carefully in carved cedarwood chests and passed quietly from servant to servant and finally to the silent English seaman who waited in the dark outside the villa’s garden gate. Unaware of the little wicket gate, Jamil had no one watching it.
Skye climbed to the roof of the house and gazed for one final time over the city of Algiers. Below her, the night lights twinkled, and she heard, faintly, the murmur of life as it brawled and sobbed and laughed. Above her, the velvet heavens gleamed black, and she stared deeply into them as if trying to pierce through the darkness.
“Oh, Khalid!” she sighed, then jumped, startled by the sound of her own voice. She had not cried since the day they had buried him, but now she wept without restraint. She stood in the center of the roof terrace, her face upturned to the skies, letting her grief pour over her. And when she had finished she said softly, “I shall never grieve so deeply for you again, Khalid, my love. I have my memories, and I have our child, whom I regret will never know you. Now, Khalid, I must leave our home, and I hope you will wish me Godspeed. I wish you the same.” She stood quietly, and a great peace flooded through her and she knew that he approved of what she was doing. “Thank you, my love,” she said. Glancing around the terrace a final time, she descended to the ground floor of the house where the servants all waited to bid her good-bye.
Skye O'Malley Page 23
