The Captive Read online

  “You … come in … ship … England?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But we were wrecked.”

  “From England … alone? No?” He shook his head.

  “With my parents … my father and mother.”

  It was hopeless. I imagined he was trying to find out what kind of family I came from. Was there money? How much would it be worth to have me back?

  He gave it up as hopeless, but I knew by the way in which he kept looking at my hair and smiling to himself that he was pleased with what he saw.

  Then one morning when I awoke the ship was no longer moving. The sun had risen and when I looked out through the small porthole I caught a glimpse of white buildings.

  I became aware of noise and bustle. People were shouting to each other in excited voices. One thing was certain. We had reached our destination and I must soon learn my fate.

  During that morning it gradually dawned on me what it was to be and I was filled with the utmost horror. I began to ask myself if it would not have been better if I had never experienced my miraculous escape from the sea.

  The captain came to my cabin. He brought with him a black cloak, a yashmak and a snood. He made it clear that these were for me to wear.

  My hair had to be piled into the snood and when I was fully clad I looked like any Arab woman who might be met within the souks of an eastern town.

  I was taken ashore and to my great delight I caught a glimpse of Simon. But I was immediately anxious because there was no sign of Lucas.

  Simon recognized me in spite of my covering and I was aware of his fear as he did so. We tried to reach each other but we were roughly held back.

  The sun was dazzling and I was very hot in my robes. A man walked on either side of Simon, and with the captain beside me we waded ashore.

  I shall never forget that walk. We were in what I took to be the Kasbah. The streets were narrow, cobbled and winding and crowded with men in robes and women dressed as I was now. Goats ran among us; there were a few hungry-looking dogs who sniffed at us hopefully. I caught a glimpse of a rat feeding in the refuse on the cobbles. There were small shops little more than caves open to the streets, with stalls on which lay trinkets, brass ornaments, small leather goods, and food exotic, spicy and unappetizing in my eyes. The smell was sickening.

  Some of the traders called a greeting to the captain and his men and I was becoming more and more apprehensive about my eventual fate, for they seemed to know the purpose of his visit and I wondered how many other young women had walked along these streets with him. If only I could get to Simon. And what had they done with Lucas?

  At length we moved into a wider street. Some trees grew here dusty palms, mostly. The houses were bigger; we turned in at a gate and we were in a courtyard where a fountain played. Around this squatted several menservants, I presumed, for they jumped up as we entered and started to talk excitedly.

  One of them came up and bowed very low to the captain, who nodded an acknowledgement and waved his hands. We were led through a door into a large hall. The windows were heavily draped and set in alcoves designed, I was sure, to let in the minimum of heat.

  A man in splendid robes bowed to the captain and seemed eager to show him the utmost respect. He was obviously telling him to follow, for he led us through another door and there, seated on a dais on a very ornate chair, was a little old man.

  He was flamboyantly dressed, but so small and wizened that his clothes only seemed to accentuate his age. He was very ancient except for his eyes, which were dark and very lively; they reminded me of a monkey’s.

  The captain went to the chair and bowed and the old man waved in greeting. Then the captain obviously told his men to leave him with Simon and me.

  The captain pushed me forward. He let the cloak fall to the ground and pulled off my yashmak and snood so that my hair fell about my shoulders. The lively dark eyes opened wide. He muttered something which seemed to please the captain. The old man’s eyes were fixed on my hair, and he and the captain began to talk excitedly. How I wished I knew what they were saying.

  Then Simon was brought forward. The old man’s shrewd eyes ranged over him, weighing him up and down. He looked very tall and strong, and it seemed to me that his physical strength made as good an impression as my hair.

  The old man nodded and I guessed that was a sign of approval.

  The captain moved closer to the old man and they were in deep conversation. That gave Simon and me a chance to get close together.

  “Where is Lucas?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. I was taken away and brought here. He wasn’t with me.”

  “I do hope he’s all right. Where are we?”

  “Somewhere along the north coast of Africa, I imagine.”

  “What are they going to do with us? What are they talking about?”

  “Probably bargaining.”

  “Bargaining?”

  “It looks as if we are being sold.”

  “Like slaves!”

  “It would seem so.”

  “What shall we Jo?”

  “I don’t know. Wait for our opportunity. We are helpless just now.

  We’ll have to wait for the right moment and then . get away . if we can. “

  “Shall we be together?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh Simon … I do hope we don’t lose each other.”

  “Let’s pray for it.”

  “I’m very frightened, Simon.”

  “I feel very much the same myself.”

  “This old man … what is he?”

  “A trader, I imagine.”

  “A trader … in people?”

  “That amongst other things … anything that comes to hand, I imagine, if it’s worth while. And that would include people.”

  “We must get away somehow.”

  “How?”

  “Run … anywhere.”

  “How far do you think we’d get? No, wait. If we can keep together, we will. Who knows, the opportunity may come. We’ll manage it.”

  “Oh Simon, I believe we shall.”

  I remember now the look which passed between us. I treasured it to remember in my darkest and most frightened moments. I was to think of it often during the weeks to come.

  There are some things one does not wish to remember. One wants to shut them out and make believe they did not happen. Sometimes the mind helps so that they become a blurred memory. And that is what seemed to have happened to me.

  I remember being in the trader’s house. It must have been for just one night. I recall my terrible apprehension, the ioz pictures supplied by a cruel imagination which continually taunted me as to what my fate would be. The old man seemed like a horrible ogre.

  There was only one comfort to me. Simon was in the house. The transaction with the captain concerned us both.

  Later on the day of our arrival the captain left the house and I never saw him again.

  The next day I was enveloped in the robes in which I had arrived and my hair was completely hidden as before. Then Simon and I were taken through the streets of the Kasbah to the harbour where a ship was waiting. The old man was clearly in charge of us but he took no notice of us and I had the impression that he was only there to protect his property, which we now were.

  We could not imagine where he was taking us.

  Simon and I found one or two opportunities on board to talk to each other. Our main topic was Lucas.

  Simon told me that there had been one or two meetings with the captain. They had not been ill-treated. He said they had been very interested in Lucas. Simon thought he had been taken away somewhere.

  They had been separated and not able to talk but he fancied Lucas was hopeful-at least not unduly alarmed.

  “I think he thought at one time that they might throw him overboard because he would be no use for work. I imagine that is what they want of me.”

  I was silent, dreading to think what my fate might be.
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br />   Simon thought the place we had left was very probably Algeria.

  “It used to be a refuge for pirates in the old days. They had the protection of the Turkish government. Perhaps it still remains a haven for them. The Kasbah must be an ideal spot for underhand business of any sort. I imagine few would want to venture there at certain times.”

  He was probably right.

  We pursued our journey along the Syrian coast to the

  Dardenelles -and then to our destination which we learned in due course was Constantinople.

  As we were approaching the Bosphorus, a woman came to my cabin. She had a girl with her and the girl was carrying what looked like an armful of diaphanous material. It turned out to be garments and these were laid out on the bunk. Then they turned their attention to me. I had seen these women about the ship and had wondered what their duties were. I soon realized they had come to the cabin to help me dress in these splendid garments.

  There were long trousers made of flimsy silky material, baggy and caught in at the ankles. Over them went a gown of beautiful transparent material. It was sparkling with sequins which looked like stars. They unpinned my hair and spread it round my shoulders. They combed it and looked at one another, nudging and giggling.

  When I was dressed they stood back and clapped their hands.

  I said: “I want my other clothes.”

  They could not, understand me. They just went on giggling and nudging each other. They stroked my hair and smiled at me.

  The old man came into the cabin. He looked at me and rubbed his hands together.

  My fear was greater than ever. I knew that Simon’s surmise was correct. We were going to be sold into slavery he as a strong man to work as directed while I was destined for a more sinister purpose.

  I sensed that Simon was more worried about my fate than his own.

  The cloak, yashmak and snood were brought in and my splendour was hidden from view. With Simon beside me, I was taken off the ship where a carriage was waiting for us and, with the old man and a younger one who, I imagined, was some sort of clerk or assistant, we were driven through the streets of Constantinople.

  I was too concerned with my impending fate to take much note of my surroundings, but I learned later that there are two distinct parts of the city the Christian and the Turkish and these are connected by two bridges, rather clumsily constructed but adequate and very necessary. I was vaguely aware of mosques and minarets, and I felt, with great desolation, that we were very far from home.

  It was to the Turkish section that we were taken.

  I felt lost and very frightened. I kept looking at Simon to reassure myself that he was still there.

  It seemed that we drove for a long time. It was like another world narrow streets, incredibly dirty, fine buildings, dazzlingly white spires reaching to the bluest of skies; mosques, bazaars, wooden houses little more than hovels, noise, people everywhere. They scattered before the oncoming carriage, and again and again I thought we should run someone down but they always managed to escape from under the horses’ feet.

  At length we turned into a quiet avenue. The trees and bushes were bright with colourful flowers. We slowed down before a tall white building which stood back from the road.

  When we alighted from the carriage a man in white robes came out to greet us. The old man bowed to him rather obsequiously and the greeting was returned in a somewhat condescending manner. We were taken inside, into a room which seemed dark after the brilliance of the sun. The windows were similar to those which I had seen before, recessed and heavily draped.

  A tall man came forward. He wore a turban with a jewel in it and long white robes. He sat in a chair like a throne and I noticed that the old man had become more deferential than ever.

  I thought in trepidation: Is this to be my new owner?

  My cloak was removed and my hair displayed. The man in the chair was clearly impressed by it. I had never felt so humiliated in my life. He looked at Simon and nodded.

  There had been two men standing at the door-guards, I supposed. One of them clapped his hands and a woman came in. She was somewhat plump, middleaged and elaborately dressed in the same style as I was.

  She came to me, studied me, took a strand of my hair in her hands and smiled faintly. Then she rolled up the sleeves of my gown and prodded me. She frowned and, shaking her head, made little sounds which I was sure indicated disapproval.

  The old man started to talk very quickly; the other was reasoning. The woman said a word or two and nodded judiciously. It was. maddening not to know what they were saying. All I could gather was that it was something about me and they were not as pleased with me as the old man had hoped they would be.

  However, they appeared to come to^ some agreement. The old man was clasping his hands and the other was nodding. The woman nodded too.

  She was explaining something to them. The man was listening intently to her and she seemed to be reassuring him.

  She signed to me to follow her.

  Simon was left behind. I gave him an agonized look and he started after me. One of the guards stepped forward and barred his way, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  I saw the helplessness in Simon’s face; then my arm was firmly taken by the plump woman and I was led away.

  I was to learn that I was destined for the seraglio of one of the most important Pashas in Constantinople. All the men I had seen so far were merely his minions.

  The harem is a community of women into which no man is allowed to appear except the eunuchs, such as this important gentleman I had seen bargaining with the old man. He, I discovered, was the Chief Eunuch, and I was to see him frequently.

  It took me some time to realize that I had reason to be thankful for the hardship I had suffered, because my physical state was the reason why, during those weeks, I was left unmolested. My yellow hair had made me outstanding. I was a prize object because I was so different from the women around me. They were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. My eyes were a definite blue and they and my yellow hair set me apart.

  It seemed to those whose duty it was to relieve the Pasha’s jaded senses that my very difference might make me especially acceptable.

  There was something else which I discovered later they had noticed about me. These women were subservient by nature. They had been brought up in the certain knowledge that they were the inferior sex and their mission on Earth was to pander to men’s desires. Whereas there was a spirit of independence about me. I came of a different culture and it set me apart almost as much as did my blue eyes and yellow hair.

  However, when I was stripped and subjected to one of the scented baths which had been prepared for me, it was seen by the watchful lady who was in charge of us all that my skin, where it had not been exposed to the sun, was very white and soft. Before I was offered up to the Pasha the whiteness of my skin must be restored to every part of my body.

  Moreover, I had become very ill-nourished and the Pasha did not like women to be too thin. The potential was there but it had to be recovered; and this process would take a little time.

  How grateful I was! I had time to adjust myself, to learn the ways of the harem and perhaps to find out what had happened to Simon. Who knew? I had been remarkably fortunate as yet; what if there might still be hope of escape before I had reached that state which would render me worthy of submission to the man who had bought me?

  As soon as I learned that I was safe if only for a short time my spirits revived. Hope came flooding back. I wanted to learn all I could about my surroundings and naturally I wondered a great deal about my companions.

  The most important person in the harem was Rani, the middleaged woman who had inspected me and decided that as yet I was unworthy to be submitted to the Pasha. If only we had had a common language I could have learned a great deal from her. The other women were very much in awe of her. They all flattered her and were most obsequious to her, for she was the one who selected those who were to be presented to the P
asha. When the order came she would give great thought to the matter and, during that time, it was amusing to see how they all tried to call attention to themselves. I was amazed to realize that that which I so much dreaded was greatly sought after by the rest.

  There were some young girls in the harem who could not have been more than ten years old and women who must have been close on thirty. It was a strange life these girls lived, and I discovered later that some of them had been there since childhood . trained to give pleasure to some rich man.

  There was little for them to do all day. I had to have my daily baths and to be massaged with ointments. It was a world remote from reality.

  The air was heavy with the scent of musk, sandalwood, patchouli and attar of roses. The girls would sit by the fountains, talking idly; sometimes I would hear the tinkle of a musical instrument. They picked the flowers; they entwined them in their hair; they studied their faces in little hand mirrors; they gazed at their reflections in the pools; sometimes they played games; they would chatter together, giggle, tell fortunes.

  They slept in a large and airy room on divans; there were beautiful clothes for them to wear. It was an extraordinary life to while away the days, thinking of nothing but how to beautify themselves, how to idle through the day hoping that that evening they might be selected to share the Pasha’s bed.

  There was a great deal of rivalry for this honour. I soon sensed that.

  I attracted a great deal of attention. I was so different from them and I supposed it was almost a certainty that, when I was considered worthy, I should be chosen for my very strangeness, if for nothing else.

  Meanwhile the attempts to wipe out the results of the hardships I had suffered went on. I felt like a goose being fattened up for Christmas.

  I found it difficult to eat the highly spiced food. It was a little game, trying to dispose of it without Rani’s knowing what I was doing.

  It was an exciting day when I found out that one of the more mature women and I think one of the most beautiful was French. Her name was Nicole and I noticed from the first that she was different from the others. She also seemed to be the most important, under Rani, of course.