Love Wild and Fair (69 page)

They could not travel at night now. For safety’s sake they remained in the middle of the stream, using their sea anchor, and there was always a watch posted. As the countryside became wilder, less inhabited by fanners and herdsmen, it grew thick with bandits.

Finally they could go no further on the Peneus. They were near the source of its headwaters, and the stream became narrow, shallow, and very rocky. They would now have a two-day trek through the forest in order to reach the Aous River in Illyria, and then a short march to reach the spot where Bothwell and Conall had hidden their boat.

The little boat that had carried them in safety from the heart of the Ottomon Empire was sunk without a trace. Bothwell continued to take no chances.

They were in a vast forest, and it amazed Cat that Francis and Conall were able to find their way. The Earl of Bothwell enlightened his wife by explaining that when they had come through the forest on their way to Istanbul, he had cut small, deep notches into various trees along their route. After nearly a year, the marks were still there.

The woodland with its oak, elm, pine, and birch trees was similar to those found in Scotland. So was the wildlife. They saw deer, bear, wolves, and wild boar as well as fowl and birds of all kinds, most familiar.

They each carried only a small amount of food. There was a pouch of finely ground grain which, when mixed with water, could be boiled and eaten as a cereal, or boiled and then roasted on hot stones to make a cake. A second pouch contained dried figs, raisins, and peaches. Asher had a small brick wrapped in red and silver foil made up of dark, dried leaves which he called “te.” Added to boiling water, it made a refreshing amber drink which they found sustaining.

They were all armed. Susan had a dagger. Cat and Asher had both dagger and scimitar. Conall and Bothwell carried, in addition to those weapons, English longbows and arrows.

The first day they walked many miles before making camp. Conall managed to shoot two ducks. Susan and Cat plucked and cleaned them, and stuffed them with dandelion greens and some dried fruit. Bothwell, never able to resist fishing a good mountain brook, managed to catch three trout. It was a satisfying meal.

The following morning they carefully watered the fire down and buried it. They began to walk again. They reached the headwaters of the Aous River by midday, and another hour’s march along the waterside brought them to an overgrown but still serviceable road. Stopping for a time to eat some fruit and drink some water, Cat asked about the road.

“Roman,” answered Bothwell. “Illyria was a favorite province of the empire. There are two legends regarding its name. The Romans say the name is derived from Illyricus, the son of the Cyclops Polythemus and the sea nymph Galatea. The Greeks, however, claim that Illyricus was the son of Cadmus and Harmonia.”

“Why was the province favored, Francis?”

“Because the Illyrians are born fighters—tough, hardy, natural soldiers. The Romans recruited heavily among them. In the third century after Christ the first wave of barbarians hit the empire, and Illyria became the last bulwark of the Roman and Western cultures. Most of the outstanding emperors of that period were Illyrian, elected right on the field of battle by their soldiers. Now, of course, ‘tis just a part of the sultan’s vast empire, but there are fewer Turks here because the population of this country turned Muslim when first conquered rather than lose control of their lands. The sultan has firm control of the cities and the lowlands, but here in the mountains the tribes are left to enjoy their ancient autonomy. They pay a high tribute for it…. We’ll have to move with caution here. I dinna want to attract any attention.”

She looked levelly at him. “Are we in danger?”

“Let us just say I dinna want to run into any bandits. I would say we’re safe as long as we keep moving, and as long as it’s dark. Fearing pagan taboos, they do not attack at night.”

It was midafternoon of the following day when they reached the cave where Bothwell and Conall had hidden their boat. It was still there, the cave entrance well covered and quite undisturbed. They might have dragged the boat to the river then, but Bothwell thought the women looked weary.

“We’ll stop and camp here the night,” he ordered. “Come morning we’ll be fresh, and on our way at first light. Asher, help the women set up camp while Conall and I go hunting for our meal.”

They decided to camp within the cave. There would be less chance of their fire being spotted, of wild animals, or of being caught in a sudden rain. Susan cut reeds from the riverbank and bound them to make torches for the cave. With Asher Kira’s help she gathered firewood. Asher then left them to try his hand at fishing, and Cat gave her young tiring woman leave to bathe while she finished up within the cave. The lessons she had learned riding the Scots borders with Bothwell served her well now. She built a fire, lay out the cooking gear, and took a jug to the river.

Directly below the cave lay a small crescent-shaped sandy beach which bordered a shallow pool within the river made by an almost circular formation of rocks. Susan bathed in the pool and Cat promised to join her shortly.

Returning to the cave, she placed the jug on a rock ledge so that no one would trip over it, then looked about to see if she had forgotten anything. The fire burned hot in a carefully dug pit. On opposite sides of the fire the iron spit holders were imbedded firmly in the ground, the spit, a wooden spoon, and an iron pot nearby. When the men returned, the women would be ready for them.

Satisfied that she had done her part, Cat was ready to go swimming. Suddenly she heard a high scream of terror from Susan. Without thinking, she ran out of the cave and leaped down the small incline to the beach below. Too late, she realized her mistake. She was weaponless except for a dagger, having left her scimitar in the cave. There was a man on the beach and two more in the water, chasing after Susan, who swam frantically this way and that, trying to escape. The man on the beach turned to face Cat Drawing her dagger, she crouched to meet him.

“The mermaid has a boy companion with her,” he called in Turkish to his companions. Cat realized now that they were Ottoman soldiers, and not Illyrian bandits as she had first assumed.

Deepening her voice, Cat shouted, “Leave my sister be! We are loyal citizens of the sultan—may Allah grant him long life! Is this how the sultan’s soldiers behave? Attacking helpless travelers?” Her voice rang with scorn.

They looked surprised, and for a moment Cat thought they might leave them in peace. Then one of the men waded from the water and made straight for her. Cat gasped, for the man stood close to seven feet tall. It took all her courage not to break and run. When he was quite close she called out, “Stop! Come no further or I’ll slit your belly wide open!”

The giant stopped, eyeing her with some amusement. “I
think,
my young fighting cock, that you are really in no position to give orders. But my curiosity is aroused. You’re not Illyrian, so why are you here?”

“We’re from Tricca,” answered Cat, “on our way to visit our grandmother, whose second husband is Illyrian. We came up the Peneus with a friend, a river trader. We have been walking for two days now, and our grandmother’s house is but a few hours from here. My sister wanted to bathe before going on.”

The giant smiled slowly, and a knowing fear clutched Cat. “I am Omar,” he said. “A captain with the Illyrian regulars. We have been here in the mountains collecting the sultan’s tribute from the local tribes. With Illyrians we must maintain good manners, lest we cause the sultan difficulties. Their women are forbidden contact with us, and we do not molest them. It has been weeks now since my men have enjoyed female companionship. Your sister is very pretty.” He turned to his men. “Get the river nymph,” he commanded sharply. Then he turned to Cat. “Pretty young men also make good sport,” he laughed, jumping forward.

Cat’s knife bit into his arm. Omar cursed roundly but kept coming. Several more times she bloodied him, but he kept forcing her backward until she found herself against the embankment below the cave. For a moment they stood still, facing each other. Her heart was beating wildly, and she was panting with fright and exhaustion. She could hear Susan screaming, and she trembled.

She leaped at him but he turned quickly, grunting with surprise as the knife buried itself deep in the muscle of his shoulder. With his good arm he hit her a fierce blow on the side of the head, and she fell to the ground. Her turban and bandanna fell away onto the ground.

There was a moment of silence while the captain removed the knife from his shoulder and dabbed the wound. Then he glanced back at the half-conscious woman at his feet. He shouted his delight. “By Allah! Another woman! A fighting wildcat, but a female!”

Reaching down, he pulled Cat up by the arm and, catching her face between his thumb and forefinger, looked hard at her. “By Allah!” he muttered almost to himself. “You’re a beauty! A real little prize.”

Numb, she stood quietly as he quickly and expertly stripped her naked. “Allah bless me! My fortune is made,” the captain chortled as he ran his hands over her shrinking body. She shivered as feeling began to come back to her. “Easy, my beauty,” he said quietly. “You need have no fear of me, and I’ll protect you from my men. You’re worth more to me as you are than bloodied by them. They’ll sate their lust on the other.”

She saw with horror that Susan had been dragged from the water and now lay on her back, held by one man while the other prepared to rape her. Her servant’s plight roused pity in Cat, pity for the girl who had known only rape and depravity from men, never any tenderness or love. At least I have had that, thought Cat.

“Come!” The voice startled her from her reflections. The giant pulled her a little way down the beach and, sitting, drew her down into his lap. She braced herself for the struggle to come. His laughter rumbled as he saw her face contort with fear. “Don’t be frightened, my beauty. I’m not going to force you, though Allah knows you would tempt a holy man. Alas, I have not functioned as a man since a fever took me several months back. Still,” and he chuckled again, “I know other ways to make a girl happy. When my men sleep tonight perhaps we’ll try some, eh?”

Cat shuddered. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“Why—sell you, woman! Allah! Have you never looked in a mirror? You will bring me a fortune, though whether I can get a better price for you in the open market or from Fatima the procuress I will not know until we reach Apollonia.”

Helplessness swept over Cat. Oh, God, she wailed silently! Not again. Then she caught herself. The captain and his two men were not aware that the helpless women they had captured travelled with three men. If she could only keep them here until the others returned, she and Susan had a chance. But once the two soldiers finished amusing themselves with Susan, their captain would want to be on his way. There was only one way to keep him here, and though she shrank from it, she knew she must detain them.

The captain was fondling her breasts. He might be temporarily impotent, but the thought was strong. So much the better. Saying a prayer for the men’s quick arrival, Cat made her voice softly innocent and said hesitantly, “I have been a widow two years now, captain, and my husband was a very simple man. What… what …” She stopped. Lowering her eyes as if in confused embarrassment, she giggled nervously. “What did you mean when you said there are ‘other ways’ to make a girl happy?” she finished in a breathless rush.

Captain Omar’s piglike little eyes narrowed and then began to glitter with anticipatory delight. “A widow for two years? A pretty girl like yourself, and no suitors to play with?”

“I was in mourning, and then my father became ill and my sister and I nursed him until he died. There was no time for suitors,” she finished modestly.

“Surely your husband was a lusty man, and showed you many a fine bed trick?”

“Oh, no, captain! My husband was many years my senior. He was a wealthy man when I married him, and father got a very good bride price for me. When my poor husband died, however, he had lost his wealth through poor investments. Had my dear father not taken me back, I should have been destitute.”

“You’re no virgin still, are you?”

Cat knew she dare not lie. “Oh, no, captain! My husband did his duty by me once weekly.”

“Once weekly? Once weekly!” roared the giant. “Allah, woman! If you had been my wife I’d have fucked you three times nightly and double on the sabbath!” He chuckled. “So you were wed to a graybeard who could barely do it, and here you are a lusty, hot young widow, innocent of all the nice things a man can do for a woman to make her feel good. Tell me, my pretty one—would you like me to do some of those things to you now?”

Cat hid her face in the giant’s shoulder. Taking coyness for assent, the captain chuckled again, the deep rumbling sound of a pleased tomcat, and ran a thick finger along the line of her tightly closed legs. Cat closed her eyes and concentrated on not screaming.

In the woods, downstream of the river, Asher Kira had heard Susan shrieking. Quickly, but cautiously, he had hurried to investigate. Shocked by the scene before him, the gentle young banker soiled himself. In his youthful fantasies he had imagined the taking of a reluctant woman, but the unpleasant reality of rape terrified him. Gasping for breath, he fought to control his anger and disgust. Reason prevailed. He could scarcely fight off three men alone. Melting back into the thick cover of the undergrowth, Asher Kira set off for Lord Bothwell.

It took him over half an hour, for he moved carefully, marking his trail so he might find his way back easily. He found Conall first, and poured out his story. The Scots captain paled. Grasping the younger man by the arm, Conall pulled him along to the earl. Bothwell’s face darkened with rage, and he might have gone crashing back through the underbrush had it not been for the restraining influence of his companions.

“Ye’ll nae stop the deviltry now, my lord,” said Conall grimly. “What we want is to get them back alive.”