Bought for the Harem. Anne Herries

were no worse than the men who owned great estates in England and Europe. The workers might not be called slaves, but were often treated no better. Justice was often summary and brutal. Men languished and died in the Queen’s dungeons, and many were put to the torture of hot irons and the rack.

      In the Caliph’s household the slaves were treated fairly and some might earn their freedom in time; indeed, many men and women sold themselves into slavery rather than die of starvation on the streets. Kasim himself had learned how fair the system could be. He was now a wealthy man in his own right, most of his fortune earned from trading and importing goods from other lands. He trusted his captain to obey his orders, and thus far his trust had been repaid. Perhaps one day he might leave the Northern Territories and push the boundaries of his empire, but for the moment he was content to live at the palace and give his loyalty to the Caliph. He owed everything to the man who called him his son—and indeed, he loved Kahlid as a benevolent friend. His son, Prince Hassan was his brother in all but blood.

      Kasim thrust thoughts of giving in to Lady Harriet’s demands to return her to her family away. To go against the wishes of his friend and master would be to betray all the promises he had given … the trust that had built up between them would be destroyed. He would be a fool to throw away all he had worked for these several years.

      Yet even as he changed into the clothes he found more comfortable than the dress of an English gentleman, lacing the leggings beneath his white tunic and tying the red sash about his waist, he could not quite banish the pleading look he had seen in those eyes.

      ‘How are you this morning, dearest?’ Harriet asked when her cousin woke and stared up at her from the tumbled sheets. ‘I think the second medicine that he gave you helped the sickness. You seemed to sleep peacefully after you drank it.’

      ‘I thought it was all a nightmare, but it is real, isn’t it?’ Marguerite pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘We are slaves, aren’t we? He said we belong to the Caliph …’ She gave a little sob of despair. ‘What are we going to do, Harry?’

      ‘We must bear it as best we can,’ Harriet told her. She saw tears well in Marguerite’s eyes and moved towards the bed, reaching for her hand. ‘Perhaps it will not be as bad as we fear, love. Kasim said the Caliph was a better man than the one who tried to buy us. He said we were lucky he was there.’

      ‘Lucky to be slaves?’ Marguerite brushed a hand over her eyes. ‘I would rather be dead.’

      ‘You should think carefully, dearest,’ Harriet said. ‘Would you rather be dead, truly? If we live, we may be rescued one day—I may manage to find someone who will let us be ransomed. If we die, that is the finish. We shall never see our homes or the people we love.’

      Marguerite looked at her in silence. ‘I think …’ She shook her head. ‘You will think me foolish—but I believe I was falling in love with Captain Richardson and he with me.’

      ‘I do not think you foolish. He is young and handsome and he clearly liked you. Had you been given time to get to know him you might have loved him, Marguerite.’

      ‘Do you think he is still alive? Would the pirates have killed him—and my father? I do not think they would have surrendered easily.’

      ‘No, I am perfectly certain they would not, for they were trying to give us time to get away. It is a pity that the pirates saw what was happening and sent men after us.’ Harriet shivered. ‘Had we reached the shore, Don Sebastien Gonzales would have helped us I am certain.’

      ‘I wish he had never asked for me,’ Marguerite said suddenly angry. ‘If Papa had not been flattered by the proposal, we should still be in England.’

      ‘Yes, though I was thinking of travelling …’

      ‘I should never have left my home if I had guessed what could happen.’

      Harriet sat on the bed beside her, reaching for her hand. ‘There is no point in wishing that we had not left home, dearest. We are here and must make the best of it.’

      ‘I do not know how you can be so cheerful.’

      ‘Weeping will not help. I am going on deck for some fresh air. Why don’t you wash your face and join me? There are some clean clothes for you to put on. Captain Kasim has been thoughtful enough to send water and these garments, also some fruit. The grapes are delicious.’

      ‘I want my own clothes …’ Marguerite pulled a face.

      ‘Some of these are quite pretty,’ Harriet said. ‘I chose white again, because I thought you might like the pink. If you do not wish to come, I shall go on deck for a little air.’

      ‘Are we not prisoners, then?’

      ‘We are free to go on deck. There is no escape, Marguerite. Even if you jumped into the sea they would come after you. Be sensible and wait until we are at the palace. I shall ask to speak to the Caliph and perhaps he will listen.’

      Harriet left her cousin to decide whether she would get up or stay in bed. She climbed the small iron ladder to the deck above and hesitated as she stood looking about her. She had seen very little of the corsairs’ ship, because it had been dark when they were taken on board and she saw little shut away in the hold. This ship was very like an English ship, though most of the crew were Arab or perhaps Turkish. They glanced her way, but turned back to their work as the captain spoke to them in a language she did not understand.

      He came to her then, looking at her oddly. ‘You should have used the veil to cover your hair, my lady.

      It makes the men curious when they see you without a covering.’

      ‘Forgive me. I did not realise.’ Harriet’s cheeks were pink—she had known what the fine shawl was for, but had deliberately ignored it. ‘I was just admiring the ship—is it yours?’

      ‘What makes you think it is mine?’

      ‘Because it is unlike the corsairs’ vessel. I thought perhaps it was an English ship and I thought you might …’

      Kasim did not smile as his eyes met hers. ‘Even if it were my ship I could not change course and take you home, Lady Harriet.’

      ‘May I ask why you owe such loyalty to the Caliph?’

      ‘He has been like a second father to me and his son is a younger brother.’ ‘I see.’

      ‘Clearly you do not,’ he said. ‘But we shall not argue. Will it content you if I promise to tell the Caliph of your request to be ransomed?’

      ‘Would you do that for us?’

      ‘For you, yes,’ Kasim said. ‘I fear it would not be possible to do the same for your cousin.’

      ‘Then I cannot leave her.’

      For a moment hope had flared bright in her, but it was dashed as she saw this was his final word on the matter.

      ‘Then you have made your choice. Please feel free to enjoy the air on deck whenever you wish.’

      He tipped his head to her and walked away to speak to his crew. Harriet bit her lip, watching from a distance as he gave orders the men jumped to obey. He was clearly in his element, a powerful man.

      Why must he be so stubborn? Why could he not accept her offer of a ransom and set them both free? He had offered to ask the Caliph if she could be ransomed, she supposed because she was not beautiful enough to attract the Caliph’s attention—but Marguerite would have been left behind.

      Harriet would not leave her. If they wanted to part them, she would hold on until they tore them apart.

      Marguerite was better the next morning, but nothing could raise her spirits. However, she had ceased to weep at last. They had been treated well, given food and wine to drink and water to wash, also more clean clothes from which she had picked something to suit her colouring.

      Since Harriet’s brief visit to the deck, they had seen little of the man who had bought them,