Suleiman was seated on a silken divan, clad now in simple white trousers and a long white caftan belted at the waist, when the Corsair captain was shown into his presence. He fell on his knees but was immediately told to sit, which he did on the cushions provided.
‘We are both men,’ Suleiman said, his eyes narrowed and intent on the other’s face. ‘We shall speak as equals. You will take coffee with me?’
‘You honour me, my lord.’
‘You have something for me?’
Mohamed smiled. The Caliph’s son wasted no time. ‘I have been told you seek something rare and beautiful?’
‘This is true. What have you to sell?’ Suleiman frowned. It was said of this man that he had an eye for quality. When he had merchandise for sale it was always the best—always highly priced. Again he felt that tingling sensation in his spine and was conscious of excitement. ‘Is it treasure—or a woman?’
‘Some would say this woman is a treasure beyond price.’
‘Why?’ Suleiman’s hard gaze intensified. ‘There are already many beautiful women in my harem—what makes this one worthy of special attention?’
‘Her hair is the colour of ripe corn in the sunlight and reaches to below her waist,’ Mohamed said. ‘Her body is perfect, her eyes are azure like a summer sky and—’
‘And?’ Suleiman was demanding, imperious, dismissive of such details. ‘What else?’
‘She is clever. She speaks three languages, and I believe she reads Arabic. She is the daughter of an English baronet—curse all unbelievers!’
The prickling at Suleiman’s nape had become almost painful. He felt as if a thousand hot pins had been stuck into him, and it was all he could do to stop himself gasping. A feeling of intense excitement had come over him, but he had no intention of showing it.
‘Her mind is of little account,’ he said with a studied carelessness. ‘If her body is perfect, I may be interested. Where did you find her?’
‘I attacked the ship of a merchant of Cyprus,’ Mohamed said. He was not in the least put off by Suleiman’s apparent indifference. It was expected that they would bargain. ‘The ship was damaged and becalmed after the storm, and we thought it ripe for plucking—but a Spanish war galley bore down on us. We were able to take only the woman, her servant and a boy before escaping.’
‘How do you know she is the daughter of an English noble?’
‘She told me, my lord—in three languages. She insists her family would pay twice her price in the market for her return.’
‘And yet you come to me?’
‘I would not sell this woman in the market, my lord. Nor would I entrust her to the slave merchants, who might defile her. She is safe in a house I know of—and will stay there until I sell her.’
Suleiman nodded, his face expressionless. ‘What is your price for this woman?’
‘One thousand gold pieces, my lord.’
‘For a woman?’ Suleiman laughed scornfully. ‘No woman is worth a third of such a sum.’
‘Forgive me for wasting your time, my lord.’ It was clearly the Corsair’s intention to leave as he rose to his feet. Suleiman rose too, matching the Corsair for height and build. ‘I was told you sought something rare, a treasure beyond price but—I see I was misinformed.’
‘Stay!’ Suleiman’s face was very hawkish at that moment, his pupils more silver than black. ‘We have not yet concluded our business.’
Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn smiled inwardly. He had not thought for one moment that he would be allowed to leave.
‘She is truly beyond price, my lord. I would not have offered her to you if I had not thought the woman a rare prize. I swear you will not be disappointed in her.’
‘Eight hundred if she is what you claim.’
‘One thousand gold pieces—her family would pay more.’
‘For a woman?’ Suleiman scorned and yet he knew he would pay the price asked if she was all this man claimed. ‘A thousand then, but I will take the boy you spoke of, too.’
‘He has been sent to the slave market.’
‘Get him back,’ Suleiman commanded, determined that he must assert his authority in some way. The boy was of little importance, but a Corsair must not best the Caliph’s son in business. ‘One thousand for them both or you may send the woman to the market too.’
‘Come with me, child,’ the woman said to Eleanor in a soft, melodious voice. ‘You must feel so dirty after being on the galley for so many days. Bathe and rest and you will feel better.’
‘Who are you?’ Eleanor asked. She had been too weary to notice much as she was brought to this house that morning, but she had been given a delicious meal of rice and vegetables in a sweet sauce, and allowed to rest in a room by herself and was feeling better. ‘And where am I? What is going to happen to me—and where is my brother? Has he been brought here too?’
‘So many questions! I cannot answer the half of them.’ The woman laughed. ‘I am called Roxana and I am what some people call a Morisco—but I have mixed blood. My father was a Moor but my mother was Spanish.’
‘Are you a Muslim or a Christian?’
‘I am of the true faith,’ Roxana replied, but did not meet her eyes as she spoke. ‘Mohamed thought you might be of the Muslim persuasion—are you?’
Eleanor hesitated. She might be spared much if she was thought to be a Muslim, but she did not wish to lie to this woman, who had treated her kindly.
‘No. I was raised as a Protestant—but I believe that everyone should have the right to worship as they please. How can any of us know that we alone are right in our religious beliefs?’
Roxana looked anxious. ‘You should not speak so openly, child. Men are fanatical about such things—you could be put to death for those words. In Spain you would have been given to the Inquisition for questioning. Here too you could be punished for voicing such an opinion. It is always best for a woman to be silent.’
‘But why?’ Eleanor sighed. Was there no one left to whom she could open her mind? Now that her father was dead she would never be able to speak freely again. But Roxana was only speaking the truth. ‘You are right, of course. But you have not answered my questions.’
‘You are in my house,’ Roxana said. ‘I was given it by Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn for saving his life some years ago. I have some skill with herbs and I nursed him when he was close to death. He comes here sometimes and I live because he lives. If it were not for him, I would have to sell myself to a master—and I would prefer to die.’
‘I do not think him a bad man. He was not unkind to me.’
‘That is because you will fetch a good price,’ Roxana told her. ‘You are very beautiful. Your skin is soft and smooth, and your body is comely—though a little thin for perfection. Good food will soon cure that. Come, now, and cleanse yourself. Then we shall sit and talk until your master comes for you.’
‘You are kind, Roxana.’
‘I have known what it is like to be in your position. I was sold by my family to an old man. He was…not kind.’ Roxana shuddered at the memory. ‘But he died and I ran away before his possessions were sold. I lived in a hut by the river and it was there I nursed Mohamed…’
‘You love him—don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Roxana smiled at her. ‘My wish is only to serve him, but one day he will take a wife and go far away. Then I shall not see him again.’