The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [8]
Halim crouched naked behind his mistress, staring at a point in the blackness at the rear of the cave. When lightning flared the bandit chief was illuminated, his eyes likewise fixed ahead so that when the weather permitted he could return the eunuch’s glare. The man stationed at the entrance was the only one more exposed to the storm than the three Africans, and he entertained no false hope of sleep in such conditions and so amused himself by waiting for the lightning to give him more glimpses of the two naked Moors.
The slave clung to Omorose’s back, confident her mistress slept too heavily to awaken and discover her impertinence. Awa had never before touched Omorose, or any master, without permission, and the sensation of Omorose’s heart beating against her chest brought new and strange thoughts to the girl. On the hard march Omorose had tried to hide her pain and fear but her hazel eyes had bubbled over like the fountain in the harem’s courtyard when Awa offered her lady her own share of water. Omorose had smiled as she took the drink, an honest if sad smile. Such kindness in spite of hardship confirmed for Awa that she had come into the company of an extraordinary creature indeed, a girl not unlike herself but one previously gifted with a far grander existence.
Awa recognized that her own chaotic life was again mutating, and that life had taught her that when armed men force you to accompany them on treks through the wild the end result is never for the better. She would have run, and escaped, too, for these men were clearly not slavers by trade, but she had resolved not to abandon Omorose even before the calamities of the recent days. Her mistress was only a few years her senior and mayhap that made her seem more agreeable, and unlike the rest of her former masters, Omorose never shouted or beat her. That she would come to prize and consider rare such simple courtesy never occurred to the happy daughter of the Fon headman Awa had once been, but experience is just that.
Crouching beside the young women, Halim had decided that the flashes of lightning were infrequent enough that he could throttle Omorose and her slave to death before being discovered. Whether he would, or should, Halim was not so certain, even with Boabdil’s orders that Omorose be granted a quick and royal death rather than fall into the hands of lowly men should piratry or banditry occur. When the lightning lit them up the bandit chief saw that the eunuch had broken his blind stare and looked instead at the sleeping women beside him. Then the cave went dark again, only the rioting storm giving indication of where the cavern’s exit was located in the blackness. He would not, Halim decided, not admitting that upon seeing Omorose’s beatific sleeping face he could not.
Omorose awoke to feel someone holding her down but was too terrified to scream. The wet cloth against her cheek and the quaking of the naked slave pressed against her back cheated the noble girl of any hopes that she had been suffering a nightmare. She realized the girl was not pinning her down but hugging her gently, and while a few days before the indignity of having the slave touching her might have sent Omorose into hysterics, there in the freezing darkness the warmth Awa provided was palpable and calming. Confident neither the wretched creature on her back nor the men could see, Omorose let her tears join the growing pools on the cavern floor.
Awa drew away as her mistress shook with a barely contained sob, then gingerly returned her fingers to Omorose’s shoulder. The wind ran down the gap between the girls, a growing chill spreading from Omorose’s back toward her feet and neck. Disgust again trumped by need, Omorose snaked her own bound hands up through her layers of wet cloth and took Awa’s shuddering fingers, wiggling herself backwards to again press against her slave. Awa found herself smiling in the dark