The Love Slave (23 page)

“Oma came with me from our homeland. We are from Alba, which is peopled by both Picts and those Celts called Scots,” Zaynab replied.

“My son says your history is an interesting one. Would you tell it to me, Zaynab?”

For a quick moment a shadow crossed Zaynab’s face, but then she began to speak, and Alimah was fascinated by the tale she told. “I far prefer this life to the one I led,” Zaynab finished.

“I too was once a captive,” Alimah told the younger woman. “My father was a wealthy farmer. One day the Danes came a-Viking up our fjord. They killed my parents and two older brothers. They carried off my three sisters, my two little brothers, and me. How I fought them! I was taken, like you, to Dublin. There, a Moorish slaver bought me and one of my sisters. We were resold in the great market in Cordoba. I do not know what happened to Karen, for I was purchased first In al-Andalus it is the custom of the slave merchants to exhibit one girl at a time for sale. The others are kept behind a curtain. I
was very fortunate, for my dear Habib, Karim’s father, bought me, took me for his second wife. I have borne him three children. I wish you such good fortune, my child, when you go to Cordoba. May you catch the caliph’s eye, keep it, and give him a fine son.”

“You are kind, lady. I thank you for your good wishes,” Zaynab replied. “Ahh, here are the refreshments!”

“What think you of Ifriqiya?” Alimah asked, biting into a small honey-nut cake. The sweetness trickled down her throat, tickling it, and she coughed delicately.

“I have seen little of it, lady, for I am kept busy with my lessons. I must be accomplished if I am to succeed in Cordoba, and succeed I will, bringing honor to both Donal Righ, who has sent me, and my lord Karim, who educates me.” She sipped the mint tea.

What was wrong?
The thought filtered through Alimah’s consciousness before she could even catch it. How foolish, she thought. Nothing was wrong. The girl was beautiful. Indeed, she appeared perfect in every way. She would be Karim’s crowning achievement.
Independent!
That was it! Zaynab was independent. Mustafa was not used to such a woman, which was why he could not fathom her. I was once like that, Alimah recalled, but the love of my husband changed everything for me. If Zaynab could be loved, she would lose that air of self-containment, the older woman felt.

“Would you like a visitor closer to your own age?” Alimah inquired. “Karim’s sister, Iniga, desires to meet you. She is a year older than you, but I believe you would like each other. She is to be wed in the spring to an old friend of the family. Have you learned to play chess yet? It is a very clever game played upon a board. Have Iniga teach you, and then challenge my son. He is a fine player. If you play well, he will be pleased.”

“I thank you, lady, for your good advice,” Zaynab said.

Alimah arose. She had seen what she had come to see. She had learned what she had come to learn. She bid the Love Slave farewell and departed her son’s villa.

“I can see where our lord Karim gets his fine looks,” Oma noted when the good lady had gone. “I am astounded that
she has borne three children, and one as old as the captain. She does not look worn by it at all.”

“I think this life an easier one than that we lived in Alba. The women of the rich are pampered. They do no hard work as do our women, rich or poor, but rather they spend their time preparing to please their lords. Now that I see it, I am sorry for my sister, Gruoch. She will be old before her time.”

Karim returned from the mountains, where he had purchased ten fine Arabians—nine mares and a single stallion—to take to Cordoba. The horses would spend the winter months in his pastures and stables being fattened and groomed to perfection. The breeders had a tendency to keep their animals too lean. The elephants had already been bought for him by an agent of his brother Ayyub. They were being kept by their previous owner until the spring, when they would be brought north to Alcazaba Malina for transport to Cordoba.

While Karim had been in the mountains, Alaeddin ben Omar had been overseeing the building of the new ship. It would be a duplicate of
I’timad
and was to be called
Iniga
, after Karim’s sister. The young girl was thrilled by the honor.

“He has always been the best brother in the whole world,” she enthusiastically told Zaynab. “Not at all like Ja’far or Ayyub. They couldn’t be bothered with a little sister, but Karim never felt that way.” Iniga had arrived for her first visit with Zaynab just two days after Alimah’s initial visit. The three young women, for Oma was included, had immediately become friends.

Iniga taught both girls how to play chess. “My brothers,” she told them, “think they play better than anyone else. They are always having games, but I can beat them. Mother says I must not, for men’s pride is so easily hurt by such trivial things, so I pretend to be beaten by them, and they are happy.”

Zaynab laughed. Though she was younger in years than Iniga, her experiences had made her more mature. “Your mother is correct, Iniga,” she told her friend. “Women are indeed stronger. I believe that is why Allah designated them the life-givers. Can you imagine a man having a baby?” She chuckled.

“Have you seen a baby born?” Iniga’s eyes were wide.

She must be careful here, Zaynab thought Iniga was the virgin daughter of a rich family. It was likely she knew little of what transpired between a man and a woman. “My twin sister and I were the eldest of our mother’s children,” she told the girl. “Mother had many children after us. By the time we were five, there was little Gruoch and I did not know about birthing babies. The houses of the rich in Alba are not at all like the houses of the rich here. We lived in a stone tower with a single large room upon each floor. There was little privacy for any of us. It was always cold, and frequently rainy and damp. I was used to it, but now I could never go back. I love the sunlight and the warmth of this land. Is Cordoba like this?”

Iniga nodded, her curiosity satisfied for the moment “Aye, and the caliph’s palace is, I am told, the wonder of the world. They say when he travels between Madinat al-Zahra and Cordoba, carpets are laid upon the road between the two places. And the road is lit at night by lamps upon posts! It takes six lamplighters, they say, to keep all the lamps lit upon that road! Imagine, a lighted road! I wish I could see it, but I shall probably spend all my days here in Alcazaba Malina. Once I am wed, it is my duty to produce children for my husband; but then,” she said with a smile and a shrug, “what else is there for a woman to do? I think I envy you just a little going to the caliph’s court, Zaynab.” Iniga sighed “You really are an extravagantly beautiful girl. I think the caliph will be ravished by you, and the other women of his harem will be jealous. You must be careful of those women, you know. Trust no one but Oma, and make certain that the eunuch they give you is loyal to you alone. You can always buy a eunuch’s loyalty. You must be certain those more powerful than you don’t control your servants. You are wise, and you should be able to fathom whom you can trust”

“Who are you to marry?” Zaynab asked Iniga.

“His name is Ahmed ibn Omar. He is a nephew of the lady Muzna, her sister’s eldest son. I have known him my entire life. It was always assumed that we would marry. He has black hair that is like a raven’s wing, and lovely brown eyes.”

“Do you love him?” Zaynab wondered.

Iniga thought a long moment, and then she said, “I suppose I do. I have never thought of being with anyone else. Ahmed is kind and funny. They say he never gets angry. I am content with the arrangement that my parents have made.”

In a sense, Zaynab envied the girl. Love was a painful emotion, she was discovering. It was probably better, she considered, to be
content
like Iniga. There was no hurt in being content. Her mother had never been content, certainly. For all Sorcha MacDuff’s vehement anger against the MacFhearghuis, she had loved him in her strange way, and he had loved her. It had been a bitter thing for them both. Love was definitely not a desirable emotion to feel, Zaynab decided, but how did one stop loving a man?

Pleased with the progress she was making in all the areas of her studies, Karim al Malina took his pupil a step further in the erotic arts. Joining her one evening, he brought with him a delicately woven gold basket. “This is for you,” he said, handing it to her.

She lifted the peach silk covering from the basket and gazed, puzzled, at its contents.

“They are a collection of love toys,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “They can be used by your master or by you.”

Slowly Zaynab removed each item and set it carefully on the little ebony table by the bed. There was a crystal flask with a silver stopper that was filled with a clear liquid, and an alabaster flask containing a blush-colored creamy liquid that smelled of gardenias. There were two golden bracelets, separated by a short golden chain. The bracelets were lined in lamb’s wool. There were two items encased in purple velvet bags. She opened the smaller of the two and a pair of silver balls rolled into her palm.

“Why do they feel so odd?” she questioned him.

“There is a tiny drop of mercury in one of them, and a wee silver tongue in the other of them,” he explained.

“What are they for?” she asked.

“Pleasure,” he responded. “I will show you shortly, but first open the other bag, Zaynab.”

She obeyed, and drew forth an object that brought a blush to her cheek. “What is it, my lord? It looks like a manhood, and yet …”

He laughed softly. “It is called a dildo. This one is an exact replica of Abd-al Rahman’s manhood. It is carved from ivory, and perfect in its detail. You will note that its handle is gold and bejeweled as befits your lord. If you long for your master, and he is not there to pleasure you, you can use the dildo. It may please him to see you use it before him.

“For now I will use it to initiate you into another form of love play. You have a second maidenhead, but I will not take it myself. I will use the dildo to prepare you for your master’s taking of that maidenhead By right his must be the first manhood you take into that other orifice, but you will need to be readied for it We will use the dildo for that purpose.”

She nodded, not quite certain what he meant, but she knew he would elucidate further when the time came. She uncorked the crystal stopper and sniffed. It had a rose fragrance to it. “What is it?”

“It is a special liquor. Oma will be given its recipe. It is used to stimulate passions that are perhaps a bit slow. The caliph is not a youth, Zaynab. There is a small cup in the basket. Take it out and pour yourself a draught You will not need it as a rule, but I want you to understand how it will affect your lover.” When she had obeyed him, he said, “Now take the last item from the basket.”

Zaynab removed the black onyx jar. Inside was a thick odorless cream. She set it aside, asking him instead, “What is the pale pink liquid, my lord? It smells like my gardenias.”

“It will make the skin very sensitive to touch,” he said. “Let me rub some on you, my flower. The caliph will enjoy exciting you in such a way, and it gives him time to become aroused as well. It is subtle, but very effective. There are special herbs in it which Oma will be told of so she can keep you well-supplied” He began to smooth the pale cream over her skin, and she purred contentedly at him.

“And the other cream? The one in the jar?” she asked.

“It is but a lubricant for the dildo,” he answered.

She was silent for a short time, and then she said, “What are those dainty little chains for, my lord?”

“Playing,” he told her. “The caliph may enjoy the little games that men and women often play to amuse themselves. I shall begin to teach you such games soon. Perhaps the caliph would like to pretend that he has captured you in battle. You would resist his attentions if free to do so, but he chains you, and you are forced to give him pleasure. Or perhaps he would enjoy being your captive. Older men like to play games. It keeps their bed sport interesting, Zaynab.” He rolled her over, and pouring some of the liquid cream into his palm, began to massage her breasts and her belly. “Do you like it?” he queried.

“Ummmm, it feels tingly, my lord,” she replied.

“All over?” he murmured, his hands kneading her legs and thighs.

“Yesss, all over!” she admitted, squirming slightly beneath his touch. In fact the touch of his hands was becoming almost unbearable.

“Roll onto your belly,” he said, and when she had done so, he continued. “Now draw your legs up beneath you. Good. Arch your back deeply, Zaynab. Keep your shoulders as flat as you can. Rest your head in the cradle of your folded arms. Excellent! That is the position you must take when the caliph decides he wishes to enter into your body through your Temple of Sodom. Stay that way while I prepare the dildo.” He dipped the instrument into the lubricant, and kneeling behind her, he prepared to insert it “Do not be frightened. It is a different sensation. If you feel the need, arch your back in a deeper curve to accommodate the dildo.” Firmly he spread the twin moons of her buttocks with his thumb and forefinger, revealing the small rosette between them. He positioned the dildo and applied gentle pressure until the tight flesh began to give and the head of the ivory penis entered her tense body a small way.

Zaynab gasped. It wasn’t that it hurt It was simply a wretchedly uncomfortable sensation. She didn’t like it, and she told him so. “Why are you doing this to me, my lord? It is unnatural!”

“To some, my jewel, but not all,” he told her. “As a Love Slave you must be prepared to accept your master in a variety of ways. You have already accepted a manhood in two of your three orifices. There can be no surprises for you once you become a member of the caliph’s harem. You must be perfection in all ways.” He pushed the dildo in a bit farther, and she attempted to squirm away from him, but Karim placed a firm hand upon her neck. “Obedience at all times,” he reminded her.

“
I hate this!
” she cried to him. “
I hate this!
”

His grip on her neck was hard as he pressed the dildo its full length into her, withdrawing it halfway and thrusting it forward once more, and yet again and again, in a fierce rhythm.