The Kadin - Bertrice Small [62]
Selim drew the one female in the group forward. “This is Marian, sweetheart She is yours. Greet your new mistress in your native tongue, Marian.”
“I will try to serve you well, my lady,” the girl said.
Cyra’s eyes lit up. “Selim! A Borderer! How wonderful! Where on earth did you find her?”
“A Borderer? But she said she was English”
Cyra laughed. “Forgive me, my lord. You could not know. Of course she is English, but she comes from the northernmost of that land, which borders my own country. Both these people, the English Borderers and the Scots Borderers, sound very much alike. Had you brought me a London girl, I should have been hard pressed to understand her.”
“Do not the English and the Scots speak with the same tongue?”
“The people of Magnesia speak Turkish, yet do they sound the same as those of Constantinople?”
“I see. Then she pleases you?”
“Yes, my lord. We Scots and English have been known to fight, but so far from home a fellow islander is welcome. Is it not so, Marian?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Selim next drew from the little group a man. “This is Yussef. He is Marian’s husband, and although I disapprove of buying married Christian slaves, I did buy him because he is a scholar and will make an excellent secretary.” Yussef bowed, and Cyra smiled back. She knew the reason Selim had bought these two—having tasted the joys of love himself, he realized the pain it would cause the young English couple to be parted. Wisely she held her tongue.
“I have arranged for them,” continued the prince, “to live in the small cottage at the edge of the gardens. In this way they will not be separated, but Marian may go to the cottage only when she is not needed by you. Ptolemy!”
The old Egyptian stepped forward. “This is Ptolemy, my love. He is an expert in the art of poisons and will be your food taster. You are to eat nothing, even a sweetmeat, without checking with him first He will both taste and drink before you. And now, your bodyguard. This is Arslan. He has almost killed two masters for cruelty to their wives. In his care you will be safe.” He grinned at her. “What do you think of my gifts, sweetheart?”
“Magnificent! And overly generous, my prince. Thank you.”
He gazed at her for a long moment then caressed her cheek with his fingers. “I shall eat alone this evening,” he said, and, turning on his heel, he left the harem, followed by Yussef and Ptolemy.
She gazed longingly after him, then, turning, called, “Zuleika, Firousi. Come over, and bring Marian.” She seated herself beside Lady Refet as her friends and new slave joined them.
“Do you understand our language, Marian?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then tell us about yourself. How old are you?”
“Nineteen, my lady. I come, as you know, from the English Borders.”
“Then,” said Cyra, “many’s the time you’ve played host to the Scots.”
“Aye, my lady, many’s the time, and most recently, before we left, we played host to King Jamie’s rogue Lord Bothwell.”
“Indeed,” laughed Cyra. “I remember him well.”
Marian continued, “I am the daughter of a well-to-do farmer. A year ago I was married to Alan Browne, my cousin. Alan is the younger son of a London merchant and was in great favor with the Countess of Whitley. Several months ago the countess decided Alan would benefit by working for her trading interests in the Levant”
“A countess in trade?”
“She was not born a countess, my lady. She was the only daughter of a wealthy goldsmith. The earl, her late husband, needed money, and the countess’s father wanted a title for his daughter. She is very beautiful.”
Cyra nodded. “Go on.”
“We left England on one of the countess’s ships. Our voyage was smooth and pleasant once we left the Channel and moved south. We were only two days into the Mediterranean when our vessel was attacked by pirates.”
“Did they harm you, Marian?”
“Oh, no! I told them I was with child, and they said a slave who was a proved breeder was worth more, so I was left in peace.”
“Are you with child?”
“I lost the babe before we reached Constantinople, my lady.”
There were murmurs of sympathy all around