Look your fill, you murdering bastard, she thought as she watched
him through slitted eyes. Dream your lust-filled dreams for dreams
are all you’ll ever have of me.

Finally Jamil sighed reluctantly, and left the room. She lay quietly until Marie joined her, saying drily, “The household has been threat-
ened with severe punishment unless you are properly cared for,
madam.”

Skye sat up. “The presumption of the man! He says he will care
for me as did my lord Khalid! When he touched me it was all I could
do not to vomit! Oh, Marie! Where is the justice in this world? Why
should a man as kind and good as my lord Khalid die, and one as
evil as Jamil live?”

The Frenchwoman’s eyes again filled with tears. “Helas, madam!
Would I could answer you. but I cannot.”

Faithful Marie remained by Skye’s side all night. Neither really
slept. Arrangements for the bey’s funeral were completed in the
morning, for the day was Thursday and unless he was buried by the
sabbath sundown there could be no funeral until Saturday. The body
was first washed, then wrapped in a seamless white shroud. The
shroud had been dipped in Mecca’s sacred Zamzam well when Khalid
el Bey made his pilgrimage to the holy city.

Led by the captain-governor and the bey’s beautiful tragic widow
who was garbed entirely in white, a thin mourning band around her
head, the funeral procession made its way from the villa through the
city to the cemetery, following a careful ritual of lamentations by
the women and readings from the Koran by the men.

The bey’s tomb, a small, domed white marble building, over-
looked the harbor. Carefully the body was laid to rest on its side,
facing the holy city, and final prayers for his safe arrival in Paradise
were said by the young mullah who had married them. Skye had
allowed Yasmin to be buried honorably, and her shrouded body was
placed at her master’s feet in hopes mat she would serve him better
in Paradise. In her grief, Skye attempted to remain in the tomb with
her husband and had to be carried out.

With sundown, Skye was safe from Jamil for twenty-four hours,
and in those twenty-four hours Jean worked feverishly with Robert
Small and Simon ben Judah to put the bey’s affairs in order. The
goldsmith, whose own sabbath followed the Moslem one, knew of
several prospective buyers for the bey’s business. They could not
be approached, however, until Sunday, the first day of the week.

On Saturday morning a slave was dispatched to the Casbah fort,
bearing a message for the captain-governor. Jamil read the neatly
written words twice, as if seeking a hidden meaning.

“My lord Jamil. I am deeply appreciative of your kindness to me.
For the next thirty days I shall be secluded in deepest mourning,
and will receive no visitors. I know you will honor my grief.” It
was signed, “the lady Skye, widow to Khalid el Bey.”

Jamil gritted his teem with annoyed frustration. He was aware mat he could hardly propose marriage to a newly widowed woman,
but he had hoped to sweep her off her feet, thus preventing any other
suitors from courting her. Then a thought struck him, and he smiled.
The thirty days could easily work to his advantage. Skye was young
and used to regular lovemaking. After a month of abstinence, she
should succumb quickly. He smilingly dictated a proper reply to her
letter.

“Lady Skye. Your period of mourning will be honored, though
reluctantly. I shall call upon you thirty-one days from this date.” It
was signed: “Jamil, Captain-Governor of the Casbah Fortress.”

Skye read the message and chuckled with delight. She could sense
the pent-up frustration, and was pleased to hurt him even in this
small way. Within a month Khalid el Bey’s affairs in Algiers would
be settled, and she would have made good her escape.

And as if Khalid’s spirit watched over her, the days sped smoothly
by and everything proceeded toward the sale of the bey’s interests.
Simon ben Judah explained smoothly to prospective buyers that there
were those less reputable than they who might wish to cheat a young
widow, so it was best that negotiations remain strictly secret. Since
none of those involved wished others to know of the bidding, the
secret was kept. When a bargain was finally struck, Skye found
herself twice as rich as Khalid el Bey had left her. The monies, all
in gold coin, were transferred to London. Both the villa and the
seaside kiosk were sold to Osman the astrologer.

Osman was one of the few people she saw during her mourning.
He had come one afternoon to tell her that he wanted the house and
kiosk for himself and his beautiful slave woman, the same girl Khalid
el Bey had given him. She sold to him readily, happy that someone
she knew and liked would live in happiness in the places where she
had been so happy. She and Osman sat in the villa garden and she
served him Turkish coffee and small honey cakes.

“You are with child,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she answered, not in the least surprised. “I had told Khalid
the night before he… He was very happy.”

“You made him very happy, Skye. You were his joy. I warned
him, however, that your fate was not with him. It is back among,
your own people, and you will soon begin that journey back.”

“Oh, Osman! Did I cause Khalid’s death?”

“No, my dear, you did not, and you must never blame yourself.
Khalid el Bey played out his fate as it had been planned since the
beginning of time. Now you must play out yours.”

“Who am I, Osman?”

“I do not know, Skye, but I will tell you what I do know, what
I told your husband before he married you. You were born under the sign of the ram. Your homeland is a green and misty place
peopled by strong spirits and psychic forces. You will always control
your own destiny, Skye, and you will eventually be reunited with
your true mate.”

“Khalid el Bey was my true mate!” she snapped angrily.

“No, Skye, he was not. He loved you deeply, never doubt it. And
I know that you loved him, but there is another man, a stronger
force in your life. He was with you before, and will return to you
in time. Follow your instincts, my dear. They will never fail you.”

“And my child?”

“Will be born safely, Skye, and live to a ripe old age, as will
you.”

“Thank you, Osman. I will always have my memories of Khalid
el Bey, but to have his child is a far dearer thing. Thank you for the
reassurance.”

The astrologer stood up. “I will go now, my dear, and I shall bid
you a final farewell now. Since I was away from the city when
Khalid died, it is understandable that I pay my condolences now.
If, however, the man who watches this villa so carefully for the
captain-governor should see me here again it will certainly seem
curious, and it will arouse suspicions, so I will not return.”

“Jamil has set men to watch my house?” she exclaimed. “How
dare he! The arrogance of the man!”

Osman laughed. “My dear, he fancies himself in Khalid el Bey’s
place and wishes to discourage any other suitors.”

“I would sooner wed a snake.”

“That will not be necessary,” replied the astrologer drily. “You
will easily escape him. He suspects nothing. When do you leave?”

“In two nights. It will be the dark of the moon.”

“Good, but be careful. What of your slaves?”

“I have freed them, and will give them money to start a new life.
Jean and Marie will come with me.”

‘Tell the others that I will employ any who choose to stay. Ask
those who prefer to go to remain here until I come to take possession
of the house in six days. If they go about their business as usual,
the captain-governor’s spies will suspect nothing. That will give you
a four-day start. It should be enough to get you out into the western
sea, and pursuit is virtually impossible then.”

“Oh, Osman, how can I thank you?”

He smiled at her. “By playing out your part as Allah has foretold
it, my dear.”

She walked with him back into the house, bidding him a final
farewell in the atrium. Taking his hand, she pressed it to her lips
and forehead. “Saalam, Osman, my friend.”

“Saalam, Skye, my daughter. Allah go with you.”

During the next few days Skye’s emotions fluctuated wildly. She
was frightened by the unknown awaiting her in the foreign-sounding
town of London. She was elated by the fact she was outwitting
Jamil, though frustrated that she could not inflict a terrible injury
on him in retaliation for Khalid’s murder. She was happy and relieved
that Jean, Marie, and Captain Small would be with her, but sad to
leave such good friends as Osman.

Then the night of her departure arrived, and she stood with Marie
making a final inventory of the few things she would take with her.
Most of her clothing would, of course, remain. This wardrobe was
hardly suitable to a life in England. She would, however, take some
caftans with her to be worn in the privacy of her bedchamber. The
flowing loose robes would be comfortable as her pregnancy went
on. The loose gemstones Khalid had kept, as well as her marvelous
jewelry, were all sewn into the garments for safe transportation. She
would take her wonderful gold brushes and combs, her crystal per-
fume bottles filled with rare and costly essences, and other things
of a sentimental and personal nature. They were all packed carefully
in carved cedarwood chests and passed quietly from servant to ser-
vant and finally to the silent English seaman who waited in the dark
outside the villa’s garden gate. Unaware of the little wicket gate,
Jamil had no one watching it.

Skye climbed to the roof of the house and gazed for one final
time over the city of Algiers. Below her, the night lights twinkled,
and she heard, faintly, the murmur of life as it brawled and sobbed
and laughed. Above her, the velvet heavens gleamed black, and she
stared deeply into them as if trying to pierce through the darkness.

“Oh, Khalid!” she sighed, then jumped, startled by the sound of
her own voice. She had not cried since the day they had buried him,
but now she wept without restraint. She stood in the center of the
roof terrace, her face upturned to the skies, letting her grief pour
over her. And when she had finished she said softly, ‘I shall never
grieve so deeply for you again, Khalid, my love. I have my mem-
ories, and I have our child, whom I regret will never know you.
Now, Khalid, I must leave our home, and I hope you will wish me
Godspeed. I wish you the same.” She stood quietly, and a great
peace flooded through her and she knew that he approved of what
she was doing. “Thank you, my love,” she said. Glancing around
the terrace a final time, she descended to the ground floor of the
house where the servants all waited to bid her good-bye.

She spoke quietly to each in turn, and they thanked her for their
freedom and the money she had given them. For now, they had all
deckled to remain in Osman’s employ. Her farewells over, she joined

Jean and Marie and walked through the gardens and then through
the little back gate.

By prearrangement, a closed litter awaited them. Entering it, they
sat wordless, each wrapped in his own thoughts. The bearers made
their way down into the city and to the docks. Captain Small awaited
them, and no sooner were they aboard his vessel, the Mermaid, than
the gangway and anchor were raised. While the first mate saw the
ship underway, Robert Small escorted his passengers to their quar-
ters.

Skye could not remember her arrival in Algiers, but she would
always remember her departure. On a hill overlooking the harbor
she could pick out the spot where her husband’s tomb stood. Loom-
ing above the city she saw the sinister towers of the Casbah. Marie
smiled grimly.

“We are well revenged, madam. This morning I sent the captain-
governor a plate of sweetmeats in your name. I made them myself.
One of the ingredients was an herb that will render the evil Jamil
impotent for all time. He will never hurt another woman with his
lust again.”

“Marie! It is perfect! Imagine his shock, and then his shame! Oh,
how I wish I might be there to see his agony!”

The two women stood watching in silence as the lights of the city
disappeared in the distance. Then Marie put an arm about Skye and
led her to her cabin where, for the first time in weeks, she slept
soundly. With the tension gone from her life Skye suddenly began
to behave like the pregnant woman she was. She developed peculiari-
ties of appetite and was frequently sleepy. She became queasy and
then seasick when the ship hit rough weather off the Bay of Biscay.

Marie and Jean sat with Captain Small one evening discussing
Skye’s welfare. They all agreed that London was not the place for
a delicate expectant mother.

“It is your country,” said Marie to the little Englishman. “Where
would be a good place for Madam to have her accouchement?”