Captive of the Harem. Anne Herries

      ‘Do not be frightened,’ she said to Richard. ‘Be true to your inner self whatever they do. Remember, you are Richard Nash, and—’

      The men had arrived and started to grab at her. She pushed her brother behind her, trying to shield him, but one of the men swooped on her, lifting her and throwing her over his shoulder.

      ‘Father!’ she cried. ‘I love you—I love Richard.’

      She kicked and struggled for all she was worth, but knew it was useless. The man carried her as though she were a sack of straw. He was taking her towards the side of the ship where she was lifted over into the arms of their leader, who was waiting to receive her. The pirates were gathering what they could now and retreating to their galley. Eleanor looked back and saw her father. He was trying to talk to one of the pirates, but the man struck him a blow to the side of the head and he fell to the deck, bleeding profusely.

      ‘Father…’ she cried despairingly. She saw that another of the pirates had her brother, who was kicking and struggling valiantly against his captor. ‘Don’t fight, Richard…try to live…’ It was her father’s instruction to her and she vowed that she would try. ‘I love you, Father,’ she murmured. ‘I wish they had killed me too…but I shall try to do what you asked of me…’

      She could hear the Corsairs shouting and pointing. Glancing out towards the sea, she saw another, larger, faster galley approaching them swiftly. It was a Spanish war galley—and the Spaniards were sworn enemies of the Corsairs.

      ‘Oh, please God let them be in time,’ Eleanor prayed. ‘Let the Spanish captain of the galley wreak vengeance on these murdering devils. Let us be rescued…’

      Tears were trickling down her cheeks as she was dumped on board the galley and then dragged off to what was clearly the cabin of the Corsairs’ leader. She was thrust inside what was an airless hole and she fell to the ground, hitting her head against an iron chest as she did so.

      Eleanor was claimed by the merciful blackness and did not know that the Spanish galley had chosen not to pursue their enemy. Its captain was even now climbing aboard the crippled merchant vessel, intent on rescuing the remaining crew of a Christian ship, unaware that the Corsairs had taken prisoners before they ran…

      Chapter Two

      Eleanor could not be sure how long she had lain in the stuffy, airless cabin. When she first came to herself, she had been aware of pain in her head and very little else. She lay in a state of semi-consciousness, drifting in and out of awareness. Hours passed before she felt her shoulder being roughly shaken and then found herself looking up into the bearded face of the man who had captured her. His fierce eyes snapped with what she thought was anger, sending a ripple of terror winging through her. She gave a moan of fear and shrank back, but instead of cruelly ravishing her as she half expected, he thrust a cup of water into her hand.

      ‘Drink, woman,’ he muttered in French.

      ‘You speak French?’ Eleanor asked in the same tongue. ‘Please—tell me what has happened to my brother. Is Richard alive?’

      ‘Be silent, woman. Drink now—food later.’

      Eleanor sat up as the door of the officers’ cabin closed behind him. She sipped the water gratefully. It was cool, fresh and sweet on her lips, taking the taste of ashes from her mouth. For the first time she was able to think clearly and began to wonder how long she had been on board the galley—was it merely hours or days?

      Gingerly, she put a hand to the back of her head and found that her hood had been removed, and that there was a patch of dried blood in her hair. Someone must have taken the headdress off while she was unconscious, probably to see what had rendered her that way. It was the blow to the side of her head as she fell that had done the damage, but she ached all over and wondered if she had suffered some kind of a fever. Perhaps the effects of the storm combined with the terror of the pirates attack had… Her father was dead! The pain of knowledge returned like the thrust of a sword in her breast.

      Tears welled up in her eyes and fell in a hot cascade down her cheeks. She sobbed for several minutes as her grief overwhelmed her. It was hard to believe that the man she had loved so dearly was lost to her forever…but she had seen the blow that had felled him and believed he must have died of it.

      What of her brother? Eleanor’s eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom of the cabin now, and she began to glance around her, trying to make out what the shapes were. There were no bunks or divans here, merely a collection of sea chests—one of which had caused her to have a nasty headache—and a table and stool pushed hard against one wall. Did these men never sleep? But there was a roll of blanket spread on the ground near her—perhaps that served as a bed on this war galley?

      One thing was clear: she was alone. Her brother had not been thrown in here after her. Where was he? What had happened to him? Their captor had so far been gentle enough to her…but had Richard been treated differently? Was he still alive? The questions tortured her, increasing her own fear of what was to happen.

      She tried to get up and found that she could stand, although her head was still spinning and she felt sick, but she kept upright and did not fall. After a moment or two she managed to walk towards the table on which were spread what she realised were charts and maps of the sea, also various instruments for calculating distance by the stars. Clearly the captain of this vessel was more educated than his appearance allowed, and with that knowledge came a lessening of her fear.

      If he was intelligent she might be able to reason with him herself, to arrange for a ransom to be paid. Sir John often traded with the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. A message could be sent to him…he would pay for her and Richard’s release. Perhaps all was not yet lost.

      She finished her water and sat down to look at the charts before her. The captain had clearly been plotting a chart—and seemed to be heading for the great city the Christians still called Constantinople, though it had been renamed Istanbul by its conquerors, which lay on the shores of the Bosphorus Straits. She was being taken there to be sold in the slave markets! She had imagined the galley’s base would be Algiers, perhaps because the captain spoke French so well.

      The French were more at home in these waters than most of the other Western countries. Some years earlier the Turks had signed an agreement that they would allow only the French flag to trade freely and safely in their waters, though of course there were other merchants who made individual agreements. There were also those who roamed where they would and took the consequences, as their kinsman’s ship had—but only the French had the protection of the Sultan himself.

      Her fate would be the same wherever she was taken!

      Eleanor shivered as the realisation hit her. It was easy to make the decision to be bold and demand she be ransomed, but why should the Corsair captain listen? He could quite easily sell her—perhaps to the Grand Turk himself—and then she would disappear into a harem, never to be seen again. She shuddered at the thought of what her life would be like in such a place.

      The idea of being a man’s concubine appalled her. No! It must not happen. She would not let it happen. It was all a question of money. The Corsairs had taken prisoners to sell them in the slave market. What would her value be on the auction block? She had no way of knowing—but surely it could not be so very much? Her mother’s cousin would pay twice as much to have her back.

      Eleanor had no doubts that Sir John would do his utmost to recover both her and Richard. If he had heard of the fate of his ship, he might even now be trying to trace them. Her head lifted, her expression proud and determined. No matter what happened to her she would fight—she would live as her father had bid her—and perhaps one day she would be returned to her family.

      But where was Richard?

      Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn frowned as he thought about the woman they had captured; she had lain in a fever for several hours after they had taken flight from the Spanish war galley and at first he had thought she might die. That would have been a great loss.

      He had seen her quality immediately