The Kadin (5 page)

Upon reaching Damascus, Marya showed emotion for the first time since her wedding day, when Batu removed her from the rest of the captives. Sobbing, she had to be forcibly separated from her aunt who along with the rest was sent to one of the city’s open slave markets.

Leading his prize, Batu headed for a bathhouse, where on his orders Marya was scrubbed, plucked, massaged, creamed, and her hair braided Dressed in new clothes, she followed the Tartar chief to one of the better private slave merchants. But even a scrubbing and fresh clothes could not hide her dismal appearance.

“No,” said the merchant “Virgin or not I will not buy her.”

“Listen,” replied Batu, “you should have seen her when we captured her. A plump, silvery-blond pigeon! And look at those eyes! When did you ever see eyes like that? Pure turquoise!”

“Batu, my friend,” retorted the merchant patiently, “she may have been all you say, but now—no. She is an emaciated bag of bones. She is pining away of a broken heart I’ve seen many like her. She will not live a month. I cannot embarrass either myself or my discerning clients by offering such a shoddy piece of merchandise. Take her to the open market with the rest of your cargo. You can get a few dinars for her there.”

Gnashing his teeth, Batu dragged Marya from the house to the marketplace. She arrived in time to see her aunt sold to a rich, kindly-looking farmer who wanted a housekeeper for his motherless brood. Marya smiled to herself. If she knew her aunt the hapless farmer would find himself a bridegroom before the year was out.

Gradually Batu’s stock of captives dwindled until only Marya remained. The auctioneer did his best but no one wanted the sad, stark girl. Furious, Batu was ready to beat her, when a stern, deep voice ordered, “Hold!”

They turned to see a very tall, elegantly dressed man striding to the platform.

“What do you want for the girl?”

Batu gaped.

“Well, my Tartar friend, surely you have put a price on her?”

“A hundred gold dinars?” ventured Batu.

The crowd hooted, but the tall man began emptying coins from a very fat purse.

“I will give you a hundred and fifty because I see her true worth.” He placed the coins in the amazed Tartar’s hands and stepped up onto the platform. Taking Marya’s icy little hand in his large, warm one, he spoke softly to her. “My name is Hadji Bey, my child. If you will trust me, I will help you to live again.”

“My family is dead. I have no wish to live.”

“I know, little Firousi. Your pain is great but if you choose, your future can be bright. Come now. We will go to my lodgings, and I will tell you all”

Leading Marya from the platform, he placed her in a large palanquin and, joining her, ordered the bearers homeward. Installing her in his house, Hadji Bey ordered a soothing drink for the distraught girl. Convinced that she was now at least physically comfortable, he gently pressed her to unburden herself. At first she was hesitant but gradually the drug that Hadji Bey had ordered put in her drink took effect and, relaxed, Marya poured forth her woes.

He listened sympathetically, and when at last the exhausted girl finished, he nodded. “Yes, my child, it is all very tragic, but what you have told me has happened many times to many others. It is over and cannot be taken back.” He fixed her eyes with his and went on softly. “You are tired, little Firousi. You have suffered much. Now you will sleep, and when you awake, the pain of the past will be gone. You will begin your life again. You will not forget what has gone before, but you will no longer hurt.”

Her eyes were drooping, but she spoke. “Only if I am avenged. Batu and seven of his men for each member of my family killed The one called Yesukai for my bridegroom.”

“It is done, Firousi.”

“What do you call me?” she-asked sleepily.

“Firousi. It means turquoise,’ the color of your eyes. Now sleep, my child.”

Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she obeyed.

“When I awoke I felt marvelous! And that, dear Cyra, is how I came to be here,” said Firousi.

“But what of Batu?” asked the Scots girl. “Did Hadji Bey have him and seven of his men killed?”

“Oh, yes. When we heard of you and left Damascus to come to Crete, I saw their heads rotting on pikes as we passed through the main gate. I never spoke of it. nor did he.”

“You heard about me?”

“Oh, yes. Everyone from Damascus to Alexandria knew of the high-born virgin with the red hair to be sold by Abdul ben Abdul. What a price Hadji Bey paid for you! Zuleika and I together didn’t bring a tenth of your price.”

“I hardly consider that an honor.”

“You should,” snapped Zuleika. Janet looked startled at the almond-eyed girl’s tone of voice.

“Pay no attention to her,” laughed Firousi. “She is Princess Plum Jade, a daughter of the emperor of Cathay, and only camel drivers and dirty, barbaric herdsmen bid on her. She would be slaving for some primitive tent dweller if Hadji Bey hadn’t seen her and bought her. In the weeks we have been together I have learned that pride is very important to these people of Cathay. It still rankles that she was betrayed by—”

“If you don’t mind, Firousi, I’ll tell my own story.” Zuleika rose from her distant divan and plumped herself down amid the pillows next to Cyra and Firousi. Unlike her blond companions, who had wept remembering the past Zuleika’s voice grew hard.

She would never forget the afternoon that decided her fate. It was spring, and she sat beside the marble fishpond in her mother’s garden watching the large fantail goldfish snap and chase at the falling blossoms that ruffled the serenity of the pond’s surface. The soft voice of her slave girl, Mai Tze, disturbed her, and she looked up questioningly.

“Mistress, your noble mother requests your presence.”

“I will come at once.”

“No, no,” cried the slave girl. “First you must change your robe.
He
is with her.”

“My brother, the emperor?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Quickly she returned to her room and, with her slave’s help, changed into a white silk robe embroidered with pink plum blossoms. Mai Tze brushed her long, glossy black hair, braided it, and wound a braid about each side of her head, fastening them with small pearl ornaments.

Waving the slave away, she stood for a moment and gazed at her reflection in the glass. A tall, slender girl with ivory-gold skin, perfectly shaped black almond eyes, a flawless face with high cheekbones, a slim nose, and a small, haughty red mouth gazed back at her. She was well aware that she was beautiful. She turned and walked slowly and with dignity into her mother’s chambers.

“The Princess Plum Jade,” intoned the eunuch.

Gracefully she knelt, bowing her head to the floor.

“Rise, younger sister.”

She stood up, carefully keeping her eyes lowered and averted from the emperor’s gaze.

“I have arranged for you to be married,” he said.

She glanced toward her mother, whose face betrayed no emotion, but whose eyes warned her to be silent

“You will,” continued the emperor, “be wed to the shah of Persia. In three months’ time you will leave your home for Persia. You will travel with a full retinue of servants and imperial soldiers as befits a Ming princess and a daughter of our late father, the honorable Ch’eng Hua. When you reach Persia, our people will leave you in the hands of the shah’s servants and soldiers. You may retain only your slave girl, Mai Tze.”

“Thank you, my honored lord.”

“I have made you queen of Persia, sister. You! The daughter of a concubine. Is ‘thank you’ all you can say to me?”

“You, too, are the offspring of a concubine, and one not half so noble as my mother.”

Hung Chih laughed. “You are too proud, sister. You will make the shah an excellent queen, and bind his kingdom closer to China.”

“I am grateful for this opportunity to serve my lord and my homeland.”

“Hah,” chuckled the emperor. “Your subtle mind is beginning to calculate the advantages of being a queen, little peacock. Do not change, my sister. I like your pride. Never lose it. Now”—he turned to Plum Jade’s mother—“let us have tea.”

Three months later, the great caravan of the imperial Ming princess Plum Jade left the Forbidden City in Peking and turned westward toward Persia. It was now midsummer, and as they passed through the many villages of China the peasants crowded out to press gifts of melons and other newly harvested fruits and vegetables upon the princess. She accepted everything with gracious aloofness. She felt nothing for the people who wished her well.

And toward the shah, her intended husband, she also felt nothing. No anticipation. No hopes. He was considerably older than his sixteen-year-old bride. He had had no previous wives, only a concubine, Shannez, from whom he would not be parted. Unfortunately the woman was barren, and the shah eagerly desired an heir. He also desired to remove the threat of China from his borders, and Princess Plum Jade was the answer to both his wishes.

Her mother had told her all these things and had advised her to insinuate herself into her husband’s affections or she would never truly be queen. It was not necessary to be a man’s first love to be his last

The imperial caravan traveled the width of China and across the barbarian mountains to the border of Persia. They were ahead of schedule, as the captain of the imperial guard had hurried the caravan to avoid any early snows in the mountains. Their encampment was large, and Plum Jade was grateful for the chance to rest and prepare herself to meet the shah.

Three days later the Persians were sighted, and the princess’s women hurried to prepare their mistress, dressing her in silk robes of imperial yellow embroidered with white peonies. The Persians thundered into the Chinese encampment, and Plum Jade, watching from the door of her tent, saw that riding with the leader was a woman. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to know who she was.

“Shannez,” hissed the princess angrily through gritted teeth. “He has brought that woman with him! Mai Tze, slip out and find out which one is the shah.”

The slave girl did as bidden, returning a few moments later to say that the shah himself had not come, but would instead greet his bride in his capital city.

Plum Jade was furious, and her fury was heightened by the sudden intrusion into her tent of Shannez and the Persian captain.

“Get that woman out of my quarters!” she screamed. Her servants hurried to obey but were brushed aside by Shannez. “I see her imperial high and mightiness has heard of me,” laughed Shannez to the captain. “By Allah, she is beautiful! If she had looked like a goat, like so many of these royal daughters, I might have pitied her and been her friend.”

“Even a goat would not befriend so ill-mannered a bitch as you,” raged the princess. “How dare you invade my quarters without being announced or invited? On your knees, woman! I am your queen!”

Shannez was astounded. “You speak our tongue?”

“On your knees!”

The captain nudged the shah’s concubine, and she grudgingly knelt before the princess.

“I beg Your Imperial Highness’s forgiveness, but so great was my desire to welcome you to Persia—”

Plum Jade stopped her with an imperious wave of her hand.

“I am ‘Your Majesty,’ insolent slave!”

“Not until you have wed with my lord,” snapped Shannez.

Plum Jade slapped her. “Do you think the shah can return the merchandise if it displeases him, which, I guarantee, it will not?”

“Your Majesty, I have acted hastily in my enthusiasm. I have been highhanded and rude. Forgive me, my queen, and let us be friends. I can help you.”

Mollified, but not fooled by the woman’s words, Princess Plum Jade spoke. “I doubt, Lady Shannez, that we can ever be friends, but perhaps we do not have to be enemies. Leave me now. I would rest.”

The Persian withdrew, and once out of hearing, Shannez spoke.

“That bitch must never be our queen. She is too proud of her race and will be more loyal to China than to Persia. When she bears the shah a son, she will turn him and our country into vassals of China.” She turned to the captain of the shah’s guard. “Hassan, you must help me.”

Hassan was not taken in by the concubine’s patriotic speech, but her words had made some sense. “You cannot kill her, Lady Shannez. The truth would reach the imperial court of China, and we would have a war on our hands.”

“I do not intend to kill her. Princess Plum Jade will marry the shah—but not the real princess. None of our people has seen Plum Jade, and they will not until we are ready to leave. Tomorrow the Chinese return home. You will insist on resting the horses another day, and I alone will wait on the princess. When evening comes I will drug her, and two of your men will carry her to Baghdad to be sold as a slave. I will substitute the princess’s slave girl, Mai Tze, for the princess.”

“But will the slave girl cooperate with you?”

“If she wishes to live a long life, she will,” smiled Shannez. “And, Hassan, tell your men I want the princess sold unharmed. They are not to use her. Virgins bring a better price, and the higher the price, the greater their share. Have them sell her in the open market I will grind her pride to dust!

“The shah will wonder why the princess has no slave girl of her own. It was part of the agreement that she be allowed to keep her. I will tell him that the princess became angry with the girl’s insolence and, not wishing to trouble the shah, sold her.”

At dawn the Chinese departed for their own country, and Princess Plum Jade and Mai Tze were left alone with the Persians. Shannez gently insisted that they spend a quiet day in preparation for the long trip ahead. To facilitate this, the concubine played soft songs on a lute and even brought the princess’s meals with her own hands.

Night fell, and the shah’s mistress suggested that Plum Jade try a cup of warmed goat’s milk. It would help her to sleep, and the shah frequently enjoyed it, she said. The princess thought the goat’s milk revolting, but drank it all and soon fell into a deep sleep. Mai Tze, who had also been allowed to partake of the liquid, slept, too.

Several weeks later, Hadji Bey passed an open slave market in the city of Baghdad. This was the furthest afield he had come in his search, and he was becoming discouraged. He had visited every good slave merchant in the city but had not found what he was looking for. There had been many lovely maidens, but none had the qualities of spirit, beauty, and intelligence which he sought