Captive of the Harem Read online

of her father’s home when her mother died. She had been

  fourteen then, already a pretty girl but inclined to solitary walks

  and study. Lady Nash had spoken often of her lovely daughter’s

  future marriage, but after her death it had been forgotten. Eleanor

  liked it that way.

  To be a wife meant servitude. As a much-loved and indulged

  daughter, Eleanor had a freedom she might lose if she married.

  Sir Wiliam was an enlightened man. He had taught his daughter

  to enjoy study for its own sake, and her inteligence delighted

  him. She spoke French fluently, a little Italian, and could read

  some Arabic and Latin, of course. Her main interest was ancient

  history, which she could discuss at a level above most men of

  equal rank, and she had thought that when the time came for

  them to leave England, she would enjoy seeing the places of

  which she had only read.

  Indeed, she had enjoyed her visits to Venice and Rome,

  drinking in the beauty of old palaces and wonderful scenery. It

  was only since they had come to the vila that she had begun to

  feel restless.

  Count Giovani Salvadore was too attentive! He made

  Eleanor feel as if he were trying to smother her with his

  generosity and his compliments caused her to be uneasy. She

  was afraid he meant to ask for her hand in marriage. Eleanor was

  almost sure Sir Wiliam would consult her in the matter, but she

  almost sure Sir Wiliam would consult her in the matter, but she

  could not be certain. She would not feel comfortable until they

  were on the ship taking them to Cyprus!

  ‘There you are, Eleanor! Father sent me to find you.’

  Eleanor saw her brother coming towards them and went

  forward eagerly to meet him. At fifteen, he was slight and fair, a

  merry, happy boy—and she loved him dearly.

  ‘I am sorry if I worried you, Dickon.’

  ‘Father wants to talk to you,’ Richard said, his smile shy and

  engaging. ‘He has something to show you—an iluminated

  manuscript. He wants you to help him decipher it.’

  At last! Eleanor felt her spirits lift. She had missed working

  with her beloved father on his colection of old manuscripts. He

  was beginning to build them up again. When they had their own

  house, everything would be as it always had been. Sir Wiliam

  would not force her to marry. He cared for her too much!

  She glanced at the Count and smiled. ‘Forgive me, signor. I

  must go. My father waits for me.’

  ‘Oh, Father!’ Eleanor cried as she saw the manuscript for the

  first time. ‘I do not think I have ever seen anything quite as

  lovely.’

  The manuscript was tiny, and when roled could be stored in

  a space no larger than the handle of a woman’s fan. Its container

  was made of pure gold and inlaid with emeralds and pearls, and

  there was a loop to suspend it from a chain or a ribbon so that it

  could be worn on the person.

  could be worn on the person.

  ‘It is writ in Arabic,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘But my eyes are not

  good enough to make out the words.’

  The script was very smal, though the decoration of gold leaf,

  rich crimson and deep blue was as clear and bright as the day it

  had been painstakingly inscribed.

  ‘It is a part of the Qur’an,’ Eleanor said. ‘Or the Koran, as

  the Western world would name the Muslim’s holy script. But

  there is an introduction…it praises the goodness of Alah, and

  asks for his blessing…’ She paused. ‘I think it says for the

  Abbey of the Far Cross…surely that cannot be, Father? I do not

  understand—would an Islamic prayer ask for Alah’s blessing on

  a monastery?’

  ‘Yes, that it is correct,’ her father said and she saw the gleam

  of excitement in his eyes. ‘It is the work of Abbot Gregorio. He

  was a very learned man who lived at an Abbey on an isolated

  island in Greek waters some three centuries ago. The monks

  were a silent order, but they had many secrets and there were

  legends of their fabulous wealth—though where it came from no

  one knew. According to the story, the Abbot believed that al

  religions stemmed from the same source and it is said that he was

  very interested in Islam—but his great wisdom did him little

  good. Not long after this manuscript would have been created,

  the Abbey was burned to the ground by Saracens and al the

  monks were slaughtered. No one knew what had happened to

  the treasures of the Abbey. They were thought lost…’ Sir

  Wiliam’s excitement was intense. ‘This was discovered in an

  iron pot in the ground on Cyprus—on our land, Eleanor. Who

  iron pot in the ground on Cyprus—on our land, Eleanor. Who

  knows what more we may find hidden away?’

  ‘No, indeed, if the story be true—we might find untold

  treasures.’ Eleanor caught her father’s excitement. ‘It is very

  intriguing,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘This must be worth a

  great deal in itself. Did Sir John send this to you?’

  ‘He writes that it was discovered when the gardeners were

  working near to the house he purchased in my name. Knowing

  of my interest in such things, he sent it with his warm wishes for

  our speedy arrival.’

  ‘Does that mean that we are to leave Italy soon?

  ‘Yes. It pleases you that we are to leave this house?’ Sir

  Wiliam’s eyes were a faded blue, his hair silvered by age but

  showing traces of the gold it had once been. ‘Have you not been

  happy here, daughter? The Count has been kind…’

  ‘Very kind, Father—but I shal be happier when we are in

  our own home and may begin to gather our things about us

  again.’

  ‘My poor daughter,’ Sir Wiliam said, tenderness in his eyes.

  ‘You miss your books, I dare say. It was a pity we could not

  bring more of them with us.’

  ‘We dare not seem to be packing everything,’ Eleanor

  replied, a flicker of fear in her eyes as she recaled the way they

  had been forced to flee in the night. ‘You were likely to be

  arrested at any time. Your life is more important than books—

  however precious.’

  ‘England is a dangerous place for a man who was known to

  be a friend to Cranmer,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘Queen Mary senses

  treachery in the actions of any man not of her own faith.’

  ‘But you took no part in any plot against her.’

  ‘No—yet I knew those who did,’ Sir Wiliam said and

  shuddered. ‘Several of my friends had been seized and put to the

  torture. I was warned that the same was planned for me. Had it

  been myself alone…but I had you and your brother to consider,

  Eleanor. Better a life in exile than a painful death. Fortunately, I have long traded with the merchants of Venice, and much of my

  fortune was safe in Italy. We have good friends here and in

  Venice—and Cyprus. But it is there that I believe we should

  settle. Sir John is brother to your mother and a good, kindly

  man. If anything should happen to me, he would take care of you

  and Richard.’

  ‘Pray, Father
—do not speak of such things,’ Eleanor begged

  him. A chil wind had seemed to blow across her heart as he

  spoke and she was afraid, though she saw no reason for it. ‘You

  are safe from those who would see you burned.’

  She shuddered as she thought of the cruel deaths suffered by

  the Archbishop Cranmer and others—and al done in God’s

  name. She did not believe that the God she knew in her heart

  would demand such wickedness—for it was surely wicked to kil

  a man simply for worshipping in his own way. She thought that

  she quite liked the ideas of the Abbot, who had embraced both

  Christianity and Islam, though of course she would never dare to

  voice those opinions aloud. The question of religion had caused

  fierce fighting al over this region of the Mediterranean for

  fierce fighting al over this region of the Mediterranean for

  centuries, Christian against Muslim, west against east—and,

  indeed, she could not condone the culture of the Eastern

  potentates!

  ‘Yes, we are al safe, child,’ Sir Wiliam said and smiled at

  her. ‘So you do not wish to marry Count Salvadore? You know

  that he means to ask you before we leave?’

  ‘Please do not alow it,’ Eleanor pleaded. ‘Tel him that you

  wish to settle in your own home before you consider the question

  of my marriage.’

  ‘Very wel, Eleanor.’ He was not displeased by her decision,

  because there was no hurry for her to marry. Sir John had a son

  of twenty years. It was possible that the two might please each

  other. ‘We leave the day after tomorrow. Sir John has sent his

  own ship to carry us to our new home. It is a stout vessel and

  wil have a precious cargo of rare treasures. Sir John trades

  much with the ruler of the Ottoman Empire and he has spent

  some months colecting pieces he thinks wil tempt the Sultan.’

  ‘Surely my mother’s brother would not trade with such a

  man? From what you have told me, the Turks are barbaric! To

  keep others as slaves for their benefit is a terrible sin, Father.’

  ‘Yes, Eleanor. It is a terrible sin, but you must remember

  theirs is a different culture. These people are not al barbarians

  by any means, though the Corsairs that plague these waters most

  certainly are. I believe that amongst the ruling class there are

  extremely clever men—and they have wise teachers. The rich

  live in wonderful palaces; they are also advanced in many

  things…medicine, for instance.’

  things…medicine, for instance.’

  ‘Because they have Arab slaves,’ Eleanor replied scornfuly.

  ‘You told me that it was the Arabs who had wonderful

  knowledge and skils in such things—not the Turks!’

  ‘In the Ottoman Empire there are many races blended into a

  melting pot of talents and wisdom. These people have developed

  the Devisherme system, Eleanor. That means that slaves—and

  the children of slaves—who convert to the faith of Islam are

  accepted into their society and alowed to prosper from their

  various talents.’

  ‘Yet they remain slaves, subservient to the whim of their

  master!’

  ‘In theory, yes,’ Sir Wiliam admitted, his eyes alight with

  amusement. Such debates with his daughter were the bread of

  life to him. He was more tolerant than Eleanor, who could lose

  her temper when passionate about something—as she was now.

  ‘But I believe many of them rise to become powerful men—even

  Bey of a province.’

  ‘But they are stil bound to their master!’

  ‘Every man, woman and child in the Empire is bound in some

  way to the Sultan,’ her father replied. ‘He could order the death

  of any subject who has displeased him—so the free men are no

  more at liberty to do as they please than the slaves.’ His eyes

  twinkled at her. ‘Are they so very different from us, Eleanor?

  We were forced to leave our home because of the whim of a

  Queen. I could have been seized, tortured and condemned for a

  crime I had not committed.’

  ‘Yes, I know, Father.’ She shuddered. ‘I am aware that your

  ‘Yes, I know, Father.’ She shuddered. ‘I am aware that your

  life was in danger and I thank God we escaped unharmed. But at

  least in England they do not shut women in a harem al their

  lives.’

  ‘No—but some Western women suffer as much as their

  Eastern sisters. Disobedient women have been sent to a nunnery

  against their wil, Eleanor, which is perhaps an even more harsh

  life. I believe the Kadins are rather spoiled, pampered

  creatures.’ He chuckled deep in his throat. ‘If ever you find

  yourself in a harem, daughter, you must make yourself

  indispensable to your master—that is the way to an easy life.’

  ‘Never! I would rather die. I wonder that you can even say

  such a thing, Father.’

  ‘It was but a jest, my dear,’ Sir Wiliam said. ‘I pray that you

  never wil find yourself in such a place. You are right. I should

  not have said anything of the kind. Please forgive me. Though I

  would rather you fought for your life, my child, always remember

  that whatever may be done to your body, your mind and soul

  remains your own. Be true to yourself and to God and nothing

  can harm you.’ He touched her head as if in blessing.

  Eleanor closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. She had felt

  that chil wind again, but her father’s words comforted her. If she

  kept her faith and her pride, she could face anything.

  Yet why should anything terrible happen? They had only a

  relatively short journey ahead of them, and were to travel on

  board a ship belonging to Sir Wiliam’s kinsman and friend.

  Surely they would arrive safely within a few days?

  Surely they would arrive safely within a few days?

  They had been sailing for twenty-four hours when the storm

  suddenly hit the ship. It came from nowhere, a great, swirling

  wind that whipped what had seemed to be a calm blue sea into

  huge waves. The merchant vessel was tossed about like a child’s

  toy, lurching and roling in the grip of the atrocious weather.

  ‘You and your children must stay below,’ the captain had

  warned Sir Wiliam. ‘If you come on deck, I cannot be

  responsible for your safety.’

  Eleanor had been forced to obey, though she would have

  preferred to be up on deck. It was terrifying to feel the ship

  shudder and buck, and she feared that they would al die.

  She felt il and was sick constantly, managing only to whisper

  a prayer between bouts of vomiting. Surely they would al

  drown!

  It was a terrible end to their voyage of hope, and Eleanor

  touched the heavy silver cross and chain she wore around her

  neck, together with her father’s precious manuscript, which she

  was wearing beneath her gown for safe keeping.

  ‘Oh God, let us al live’ she prayed. In her terror she reached

  out to whoever was listening. ‘Whether you be Our Lord or

  Alah—let us live…’

  Al night the storm raged around them, but suddenly just
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br />   before dawn it died and the silence was even stranger than the

  wind that had preceded it. The ship was not moving at al. It

  wind that had preceded it. The ship was not moving at al. It

  seemed that the god of the sea had worn itself out in its fury and

  was resting.

  Their captain told Sir Wiliam that they were becalmed and

  could do nothing but drift until the wind returned.

  ‘How long before that happens?’ Sir Wiliam asked.

  ‘Perhaps hours…or days.’

  There was nothing anyone could do except wait for a

  benevolent wind. At least the ship had survived the wild night.

  The sailors would spend their time clearing up the debris of a

  broken mast; the passengers could do nothing but sleep and

  wait.

  Eleanor was woken by the sound of shouting from the deck

  above. Immediately, she sensed that something was wrong and

  struggled into her gown, which fastened at the front to make it

  easy for traveling. Although she had a maid, the girl was in the

  next cabin and stil terribly il from the sickness she had suffered

  during the storm. Eleanor did not know her wel, and felt that it

  would be better to manage alone for the moment.

  She paused, then took a few seconds to don her ugly cap,

  tucking al her hair beneath the veil at the back. She was already

  wearing her father’s treasure, but her cross and chain were lying

  on the chest beside her. She was about to snatch them up when

  her brother came rushing into the cabin.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he cried, clearly frightened. ‘But Father says

  you must come. We must al be together. He means to bargain

  you must come. We must al be together. He means to bargain

  with them…’

  ‘Bargain with whom?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I do not understand

  you, Dickon. What is happening?’

  ‘Corsairs,’ he said, his cheeks pale. ‘They have a fast galey

  and are bearing down on us hard. We cannot move, Eleanor—

  which means they wil board us.’

  ‘May God have mercy!’

  Eleanor knew what this meant. Every vessel feared an attack

  by the fearsome pirates who roamed these waters—but their

  ship was fast and powerful and would usualy be capable of

  outrunning the pirates’ galey. Not without a wind! They were

  helpless, caught in a trap!

  Now Eleanor understood what her father meant about

  bargaining with the Corsairs. Their only chance was that the