Then India leapt forward, flaying at Aruj Agha wildly. The janissary captain was no longer in a mood to coax the girl. He met her attack, yanking the weapon from her hand and shoving her rudely to the floor, where he held her down with his booted foot. Tom Southwood never moved a muscle. He knew that the agha would not seriously harm India. She had too much value as a captive, but if she didn’t learn the place she held in this strange new world, she was going to get herself killed.
“Tom! Are you going to let him do this to me?” India shrieked. “Help me!” She squirmed beneath her captor’s boot.
“I warned you, India,” he told her in their own tongue. “Now, shut up before he has you whipped, and don’t say he wouldn’t because he would. That is how recalcitrant slaves are dealt with here. I hope by now you realize the danger you are in.” He turned to the jannissary, speaking French once more. “I have told her to behave herself, Aruj Agha, but she has always been very spoiled. I cannot guarantee she will listen.”
“I’ve handled wild mares before, Captain. I am ashamed to have been taken off guard by a mere, unskilled girl. She is a virgin, of course. They are always more skittish in an unfamiliar situation.” He looked down at India. “Are you prepared to be a bit more docile, my beauty.” He lifted his foot from the small of her back and pulled her up.
“Go to the devil!” India spat at him. “I’ll kill you given half the chance. I’ll be no man’s slave, damn you!”
Aruj Agha chuckled. “A spirited filly is always the finest,” he announced. “Is she always this sweet-natured, Captain?”
“I’m afraid so,” Tom Southwood replied.
“Where is Adrian?” India demanded of her cousin. “If they have harmed him, they will pay dearly!”
“Shut up, India!” he cautioned her. “You will only make it worse for your friend. He may be ransomed if this dey is generous of heart and greedy of spirit. Now, just do as you are told, Cousin.”
“If he can be ransomed, why can’t I?” she insisted.
“Because you are a beautiful virgin, and more valuable as a concubine. These people cannot imagine any father paying what you would otherwise fetch on the block, when, having been captured by pirates, you will be considered spoiled by our own people. Now, India, just be quiet and do as you are told. With Aruj Agha’s permission, I will come and see you later.” He concluded the last sentence in French so the janissary captain could understand him.
“Of course,” Aruj Agha replied. “We want the girl content. Fear spoils a woman’s beauty.”
The two men exited the cabin, locking India in once again. Outside the door she could hear the orderly sounds of activity as the majority of the Royal Charles seamen were transferred onto the pirate galley where they would be shackled. The voices outside her door were now foreign, and indistinguishable but for an occasional English voice. She was frantic for Adrian’s safety, and Tom had told her nothing. Her head was throbbing, and she had bruised her hip when Aruj Agha had thrown her to the floor. India suddenly felt like crying.
She heard the sound of the key, and the door opened again to admit Knox, the steward. “Captain wanted me to tell ye what is happening, m’lady, and bring you something to eat. Ye ain’t touched a morsel since last night, and that ain’t good. You’ve got to keep up yer strength.”
“Where is Adrian?” India asked the steward desperately, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Now, don’t you go fretting, m’lady, about the young gentleman,” Knox told her, feeling a little sorry for the girl now. “He’s locked in his cabin same as you. Captain says he might get ransomed. All the rest of the crew but for the captain, me, Mr. Bolton, the first mate, Mr. James, the second mate, and Will, the cook, has been sent over to the galley. We got a bunch of them heathen crewmen aboard us now.” He set down the tray he was carrying and peeled the napkin back.
India looked wanly at his offering, and sighed. “I don’t think I can eat a morsel,” she said.
“If ye eats every bit of this meal up, m’lady, I’ll carry a message to yer young gentleman,” he bribed her. “Cook killed and roasted the last of the chickens today, and made some fresh bread. There’s an artichoke, some grapes, and I’ve sectioned an orange for ye. Now, you eat it up. When I takes the gentleman his tray, I’ll take yer message to him as well. All right?”
India sniffled, but began to pick at the food the steward had brought her. She took a nibble, and then another, and discovered to her surprise that she was actually hungry despite her low spirits. She quickly stripped the meat from the chicken wing, chewing it vigorously and swallowing it down. “Is there any cheese?” she asked the steward.
“Beneath the bread, m’lady,” he answered her, masking a smile. The poor lass had not eaten in a day. Of course she was hungry. She had best eat now, for God only knew what kind of heathen food they would be offered when they reached port. I’m getting too old for this kind of adventure, Knox thought to himself. If I ever get back to England, I’ll find myself a nice widow with a bit put aside, and settle us in a cottage down in Devon, with a view of the sea from the windows, which will be more than enough for me. If I gets back.
When India had finished all the food on the tray, Knox picked it up to go, asking, “What shall I tell the young gentleman, m’lady?”
“Say I love him,” India began, “and that I’m praying for our deliverance. Tell him I wouldn’t consider it amiss if he would pray for all aboard the Royal Charles, too. And he should find a way for us to escape!” India concluded.
“Yes, m’lady,” Knox replied, thinking he would certainly leave off the last part of her message to Adrian Leigh. They didn’t need the young milord trying to be heroic and getting himself killed. Not that Knox thought the young man heroic. He was rather more of an opportunist, taking his chances when they appeared favorable. Still, a little caution never hurt.
Alone again, India sat in the window seat once more viewing the empty sea. The sun was beginning to set in the west, almost directly in front of her. Above, the sky was a clear sharp blue, streaked with wispy pink clouds. The western horizon was flame, and purple and gold, with just the faintest edging of pale green. As the sky darkened, a single bright blue crystal star appeared in the early night sky. India sighed. It was so utterly beautiful. She wondered if Adrian was watching the sunset, too, and did he think of her as she thought of him? The sound of the door being opened caused her to turn her head from the window. She expected to see her cousin, but it was Aruj Agha instead. India stiffened.
“Do not be concerned, my beauty,” he said in a reassuring voice. “You will not be harmed in my care. Let me light a lamp. It is dark in here.” He drew the oil lamp down, and lit it with a small wick from the lamp he carried. “Remain in your place, my beauty, and let us talk. Do you understand what has happened this day?”
“You and your bandits have pirated our ship,” India said sharply.
He chuckled, amused by her continued spirit. “It is my right to capture your vessel, girl,” he told her. “These waters are under the control of that most gracious servant of Allah—may he be blessed forever—Murad, the fourth of that name. He is but a young lad, but we hope he will one day be a great sultan. As an infidel ship, you are fair game, my beauty.”
“Who are you?” India asked, curious. “Are you a Turk?”
“I am a Bosnian, my beauty. It is part of the Ottoman Empire, but in Europe. I was conscripted into the corps of janissaries when I was eight years old. It was a great honor for my family. My uncle had been a janissary. I was educated by the corps, and nurtured by the corps. I worked my way up through the corps until I attained the rank of agha—captain, you would call it in your tongue,” he told her.
“What will happen to me?” India asked. “My cousin says I will be a slave now. I am not a slave! I