Skye would always remember that the day progressed with an
easy familiarity that offered no hint of the things to come. She
worked with Master Jean on the books of the trading vessels, amazed
that Captain Small had done so well. He was due again in Algiers
any day now. They had recently received word of his arrival in
London, where he had disposed of the last of the Spanish gold. She
was looking forward to seeing Captain Small again, knowing how
delighted he would be at her happy news.

After the midafternoon prayers, Jean’s Marie brought them a light
repast and the news that the bey had gone on his daily inspection
rounds early as he wished to spend the entire evening with his wife.
Skye blushed happily, then said, “My good Jean, you and your
Marie have been true friends to my lord Khalid and me. I shall
therefore share with you a secret known only to my husband. I am
to have a child in the spring.”

Marie cried, “Oh, madam! So am I! Is it not wonderful!?”

Delighted, the two women sat together and chatted happily while
Jean chuckled with amusement. Following his ex-master’s lead, he
had, soon after acquiring Marie, legally freed her and then married
her. He had learned that she came from a seacoast village located
in Southern Brittany near Poitou. It was only rarely that Barbary
pirates attacked the region, but on one of those infrequent raids, the
fourteen-year-old Marie, a postulant at a local convent, was carried
off. The pirate captain had stripped her habit off himself, but when
he saw how attractive and how young she was, he locked her in a
small cabin with several straw pallets, a bucket, and a tiny barred
porthole. Two other pretty young girls quickly joined her, one her
own cousin, Celestine.

The three naked girls clung to each other, terrified, through a
long night. On the deck above their little prison, the anguished
screams, pleadings, and sobbings continued throughout the night as
the village women who were unfortunate enough to be married and
older, or virgin but not pretty enough, were repeatedly raped and
sodomized. At least two girls committed suicide by leaping over-
board. Several died of abuse including a ten-year-old girl whose
mother was strangled when she tried to knife one of the men attacking
her daughter. Finally, toward dawn, the weeping survivors were all
herded into an open pen on deck where they stayed for the remainder
of the voyage-burned by the sun during the day, cold and wet in
the night, and easily accessible to any sailor seeking sport.

In their tiny cabin Marie and her two companions were little better
off. The heat during the day made the room an unbearable oven and
the damp night air chilled them to the bone. This, coupled with the
stink of the one bucket they had for relieving themselves, left them weak and listless. The bucket was emptied every other day. Food
was shoved through the grate in the door twice daily. They often
had a steaming bowl of a surprisingly tasty concoction of peppercom-
and herb-flavored gravy with tomatoes, onions, eggplant, and a
tough, stringy meat that Marie suspected was goat. They had no
utensils, but ate with their fingers and the small piece of bread
allotted each. A pitcher of water went with the meal, and they quickly
learned to conserve it.

When their ship reached Algiers the girls crowded together by
the tiny porthole watching as their female relatives and friends were
taken off the ship. Then from the bowels of the ship, the village
men were brought up, filthy, their newly grown beards matted and
lice-ridden. They too were quickly driven off the ship. As the three
wondered what was to become of them the cabin door opened and
the captain entered carrying something over his arm. Carelessly he
flung them each a garment.

“Put ‘em on,” he commanded in rough-accented French, and
when they obeyed he handed them each a heavy veil. “Pin it to your
hoods and follow me,” he said. “Open your yaps once, and I’ll turn
the lot of you over to my crew. They’d like that.”

Frightened, they scurried after him up to the deck and down the
gangway. On the dock was a large, closed litter.

“Get in,” snarled their captor, and they quickly obeyed. “You’re
going to the baths to be cleaned and prettied up,” he explained. “Do
whatever they tell you to do. You’ll be sold at auction tonight. Be
thankful Allah gave you beauty with your purity or you could have
ended up like the others in your village.” He yanked the curtains
shut and the litter began to move.

Celestine looked to her cousin Marie. “Shall we kill ourselves?”
she whispered fearfully.

“Non, non, cherie,” scolded Marie. “We will pretend to meekly
accept our fates, and perhaps later we can escape.”

“But if we are sold we shall be separated,” wailed Renee. She
had been the village innkeeper’s only child, and was terribly spoiled,
having been raised knowing that her dowry was the largest of any
girl’s for fifty miles around. “How could you, a nun, suggest we
yield to the infidel?”

“I am not a nun, Renee. I was a postulant for one short month.
I do know, however, that God has forbidden us to suicide. Whatever
I must endure in His name I shall. We are not in Tour de la Mer
any longer, and it is unlikely we’ll ever see it again.”

At the baths the girls were scrubbed, massaged, bathed, denuded
of body hair, creamed, and perfumed. Their long beautiful hair was
washed, dried, and brushed until it shone. Marie’s rich chestnut curls were appreciated, but the blond locks of Renee and Celestine
made them far more valuable. They were garbed in transparent silks
and fed a light meal of capon breast and sweet fruit sherbet.

Promptly at moonrise the auction began. As they watched, Marie
felt a soft languor steal over her, and realized they had been drugged
to insure their cooperation. Helplessly she watched as Renee was
sold to a fat black Sudanese merchant whose delight as he bore her
off was evident. Renee opened her mouth to scream, but no sound
came forth. Only her terrified blue eyes told of her fear.

Girl after girl was sold, and then it was Marie’s turn. Khalid el
Bey quickly bought her, and because he looked kind she begged him
to buy Celestine too. The bey was agreeable, but the eunuch who
ran the harem of the captain-governor had marked Celestine for his
master. Khalid el Bey was forced by etiquette to withdraw from the
bidding for Celestine.

Marie was placed in the House of Felicity and trained as a cour-
tesan. But when the time came for her to make her debut Khalid el
Bey chose her to be a gift to Jean.

Celestine was not as fortunate. Her initial resistance to Jamil
assured her immediate success with him. But the naive young girl
fell in love with the cruel captain-governor, which made his interest
wane. When he instructed his eunuch to sell the French girl off,
Celestine committed suicide by leaping from the roof of one of the
Casbah towers.

Marie had been devastated by her cousin’s tragic death. It seemed
especially sad in light of her own good fortune. Jean’s strong love
had supported Marie through the worst of it. But the captain-governor
had made a bitter enemy in the young Breton girl. Marie did not
know how, but she was determined to have her revenge.

Thoughts of vendetta, however, were far from Marie’s mind on
this day. She was delighted to know that her mistress was also
pregnant. “I can deliver both our babies,” she told Skye proudly.
”My mother was the finest midwife in three villages, and I helped
her many times.”

“The doctor tells me,” said Skye, “that I have borne more than
one child, but of course I do not remember,” she sighed. “I wonder
about those children. Are they alive? Are they boys or girls? How
old are they?”

“Madam must not fret,” chided Marie.

Skye smiled sadly at the girl who, though several years younger
than she, still attempted to mother her. “I cannot help but wonder
if my children miss and mourn their mother,” she said. Tears filled
Marie’s hazel eyes and Skye felt guilty and hugged the girl. “Now
I’ve made you sad, and I did not mean to do so. I have heard that pregnant women are subject to emotional vagaries. Is it not true?
I grow morbid, and you weep.” She made a face at herself, and
Marie laughed through her tears.

Skye smiled back, then asked, “Master Jean, are we through for
the day? If so, Marie and I shall spend the rest of the afternoon
luxuriating in the bath.”

The bey’s secretary nodded. As Khalid el Bey was a good, kind,
and gentle man, so was his wife a great lady, and Jean was grateful
that she extended her friendship to his wife. “Go along, my lady.
You have gotten so far ahead of me with the accounts that it will
take me at least two days to catch up.” He smiled with contentment
as the two women left him. Life was good here in the bey’s house-
hold.

In the early evening before the meal was served, Captain Robert
Small arrived at the bey’s home, laden with gifts for Skye, shouting
lusty greetings. Khalid delighted in the bluff seaman’s thoughtfulness, but Skye was truly touched by the care that had so obviously
gone into Small’s choice of gifts. There were several bolts of fine
China silk, rare spices, and a long strand of pearls from the East
Indies. From the New World Captain Small had brought an intri-
cately carved box of solid gold, lined in white velvet, containing
the most magnificent necklace, bracelet, and earrings of Colombian
emeralds that Khalid el Bey had ever seen. The emeralds, set in
gold, glittered with a blue fire found in only the finest stones. “They
reminded me of your eyes,” muttered the captain, flushing with the
words.

“Why, Robbie,” smiled Skye, “how observant you are, and how
very, very generous.” She bent and kissed his ruddy cheek. “My
thanks.”

“You’ll eat with us,” said Khalid. It was not a question. Skye
left to inform the cook.

The seaman settled himself on a comfortable divan. “I need not
ask, Khalid, for I see the married life suits you well.”

“Very well, Robbie. Do you think fatherhood will suit me also?”

“She isn’t!” A look of sheer delight crossed the Englishman’s
face as the bey nodded. “She is! By God, Khalid, you dog! My next
trip back I’ll have a fine gift for your son!”

“Or my daughter.”

“Nay, man, a brace of lads first, then a lass to spoil is always
best. Do it that way.”

Khalid laughed heartily. “The deed is already done, my friend.
We must take what Allah offers, and be grateful.”

The dinner arrived quickly, and Robert Small lowered himself
to the table amid the pillows. Skye sat at one end directing the servants. There was a whole leg of baby lamb rubbed with garlic
and stuck with sprigs of rosemary set upon a nest of greens and
surrounded by tiny roasted white onions. A white bowl held small
green artichokes in olive oil and red wine vinegar. Another bowl
was filled with fluffy white rice mixed with sesame seeds, sliced
black olives, green peppers, and sauteed onions. There were flat
dishes of boiled eggs, purple and brown olives, strips of red pimiento,
and tender green scallions. A basket of round, flat loaves of warm
bread and a silver dish of sweet butter completed the main course
of this simple family meal. Discreetly attentive slaves kept the three
crystal goblets filled with subtly spiced fresh pomegranate juice.

The main course finished, the slaves removed the plates and
brought in silver bowls of warm, scented water and tiny linen towels.
Desert consisted of a huge platter of fresh fruits, golden brown dates,
round Seville oranges, great black figs, bunches of purple and green
grapes, sweet red cherries, and both green and golden pears. A
filigreed basket was passed, containing tiny pastry horns filled with
a mixture of chopped almonds and honey. Skye brewed the dark rich
Turkish coffee.

Afterward, hot steaming towels were offered to cleanse sticky
fingers, and water pipes were brought to the gentlemen. Two pretty
young girls played and sang softly in the background while the men
smoked and talked. Skye noticed that Khalid seemed sleepier than
usual, and she teased him. “It is I who should be tired now. my
lord, not you.”

Stifling a yawn, he chuckled. “Impending fatherhood is exhaust-
ing, my love. I cannot keep my eyes open. I am going to retire now
before I fall asleep here. Robbie, stay. Skye has many questions to
ask you, I know, and I have not given her a chance.” He rose. Skye
rose and stood within the curve of his arm.

“You do not mind if I remain for a bit?”

“No, my Skye. Fill your lovely head with all the things you need
to know.” He kissed her tenderly. “Allah, how fair you are! The
white silk caftan and gold embroidery sets off Robbie’s emeralds
very well. The blue flame in their centers does indeed match your
beautiful eyes.” He kissed her again. “Don’t wake me when you
come to bed, my love. I’ll sleep through the night.”