"Where is the woman Nilak?" he demanded loudly in Arabic.

A small dignified female came from a corner where she had been seated. "Yes, my lord Haroun'? How may I serve you?"

"Do you still have command of your Frankish tongue?" he demanded roughly of her.

"I do," Nilak said politely.

"Then this woman is now in your charge by order of our most worthy master, the caliph Rashid al Ahmet, may his name be blessed. She is to be bathed and well rested, for he desires her presence at moonrise. Tell her, and also inform her that bad behavior and disobedience will be punished by a beating on the soles of her feet until she cannot walk, but must crawl." He then shoved Rhonwyn toward Nilak.

The older woman caught the girl and said quickly in Norman, "Do not retaliate, child. The caliph's chief eunuch is a man who holds grudges. If you shame him before the other women, he will never forgive you, and no one, not even the caliph, will be able to protect you from his vengeance."

Rhonwyn swallowed down her anger and nodded at Nilak.

"Good," Nilak said softly. "Now, come with me and we will talk. You will tell me who you are, and I will answer all the questions I see bubbling upon your lips." She took the younger woman by the hand and led her off into a quiet corner, speaking a few quick words to a passing slave girl as they went. "I have told her to bring us mint tea and gazelle-horn pastries," she explained to Rhonwyn. "Sit, child."

"Who are you," Rhonwyn asked her, "and how do you know the tongue of the Normans?"

"I am called Nilak. It means Lilacflower in the Arabic tongue. My history is a simple one. My father was a merchant in Provence. The Moors raided the town in which I lived, and I was captured and sold into slavery. I was twelve then. I have now seen forty-two springs. I was brought to Cinnebar with a princess who was given to this caliph's father as a gift. She died giving birth to a daughter, the caliph's hall sister. I raised the child until she was given in marriage. I am too old now to sell off, and so I am allowed to remain, being useful where I can be. Baba Haroun is glad to have me as a translator when girls speaking the Frankish tongue are brought here, as they occasionally are. Now tell me, child, who are you, and how came you here?"

Rhonwyn explained her adventures to the open-mouthed woman.

"You killed Prince Abdallah?" Nilak said, awed.

"I did not know who he was," Rhonwyn replied. "He was just an enemy in battle." She shrugged, then asked, "Tell me about this Baba Haroun? Who is he?"


"The chief eunuch of the caliph's harem, child," Nilak responded.

"I don't know what a eunuch is, nor a harem," Rhonwyn said.

"A harem is where the caliph's women-his wives, his concubines, his sisters, and other assorted female relations-live. No real man but the caliph is allowed in the women's quarters. A eunuch is a male who has been castrated so he may not function as a real man would," Nilak explained. "Castration is usually done when young. All men within these quarters-the servants, the slaves, the guards-are eunuchs."

"And this Baba Haroun is in charge of the caliph's harem?"

"Yes, my child, he is," Nilak answered her. "Obey him, give him public respect and esteem, and you can make him your friend. If you are to succeed here, you will need his good will. Without it you are doomed to obscurity, and obscurity is a lonely place."

"I do not intend to remain here," Rhonwyn said. "I shall escape and return to the coast where the crusaders are preparing to move on to Acre. My husband must be very worried and very angry by now."

Nilak's face became sympathetic. It was frequently this way with captives. They always wanted to flee, and that, of course, was not possible. "You cannot escape, my child," she began patiently. "It is very unlikely that you will ever again see the world outside this place except when you are taken for your burial. Besides, would your husband now receive you back into his heart, his house, and his good graces after you have been captured by the infidels? You are so fortunate, my child. You might have been raped and killed, but instead you have been brought into paradise on earth, for that is what Cinnebar is. The caliph is a strong ruler and a good man. If you can win his favor, if you bear him a son, your fortune is made. What better fate is there for a woman in this world?"

"But I have a husband," Rhonwyn repeated. For the first time in her life she was beginning to be frightened. Why had Fulk prevented her from escaping when they had the chance? All they had had to do was get back to the coastline and follow it to Carthage. She had seen the walls surrounding this palace. They were high and thick, and now she was trapped behind them. Forever, according to Nilak. It was a terrifying thought, and Rhonwyn began to shake with sudden fear.

Seeing it, Nilak put her arms about the girl. "There, child, it is all right. You will not be harmed, I promise you. Here, drink this," she said, offering Rhonwyn a small cup of the steaming fragrant beverage she had earlier imbibed. "Mint tea is very good for the nerves." She held the cup to Rhonwyn's lips, coaxing her gently. Then she turned to the slave girl who had brought the tea. "Go to Baba Haroun and tell him the girl is succumbing to shock. I will need a sleeping draught immediately if she is to be prevented from hysterics. And ask him if they have named her yet." Nilak turned back to Rhonwyn, who was now even paler. "Try one of these little gazelle-horn pastries," she said, offering it. "They are made with honey, raisins, and chopped almonds. I love them!" She picked up another and began to eat it. "Ummm, delicious!"

Struggling to gain control of herself, Rhonwyn took the pastry Nilak had offered her and began to chew it. It had no taste in her mouth. She swallowed, but put it back down upon the plate.

Nilak reached out and took the girl's cold hand in hers. "It will be all right, my child, I promise you. This is a good life."

"I am Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, wife of Edward de Beaulieu, lord of Haven Castle. I do not belong here. They must let me go!"

Nilak gathered Rhonwyn into her arms and held her tightly.

It was at that moment Baba Haroun hurried over to the two women. "What is happening to her?" he demanded. "She must be ready to go to the caliph tonight."

"She is in shock, my lord Haroun. It is to be expected, after all. She may have come here as a warrior, but she is in reality only a young woman," Nilak murmured softly. "If the caliph is already taken by her beauty, we must treat her gently so our lord and master is not disappointed in either you or me."

"Your years have given you wisdom, Nilak," he grudgingly agreed, reaching into his voluminous red, black, and yellow-striped robe. "Here is a gentle sleeping potion that will calm the girl." He uncorked the little silver vial and poured it into Rhonwyn's cup.

Nilak put the cup to Rhonwyn's lips. "Drink, my child. We have put a mild dose of herbs into your tea to relax you. You need to sleep so you may face life as bravely now as you have always faced it in the past. Drink."

Rhonwyn didn't argue, gulping down the fragrant brew as if she couldn't escape fast enough. She hated this loss of control over her own life. Within minutes her eyes grew heavy. She didn't protest as Nilak led her to a couch where she lay down and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

"What is she to be called?" Nilak asked the chief eunuch.

"Noor," he answered her.

"How suitable," Nilak remarked. "Will you help me get her out of these odd garments, Baba Haroun? I do not want to entrust her to the other women of the harem quite yet. Has the lady Alia been informed of this girl's arrival and the caliph's interest?"

He nodded, thinking as he did that Nilak was perhaps a more valuable slave woman than he had previously considered. The lady Alia was the caliph's favorite wife. She had been wed to him when she was thirteen, and while he had two other wives and several favored concubines, it was the lady Alia who was his friend and his confidante now that the first flush of passion had passed them both. It was her son who would follow his father as the next caliph. She was well liked, feared, and respected by all in the harem.

"I have warned my lady of this new threat," Baba Haroun said. "She will come and see the girl as soon as we have gotten these clothes off of her."

They worked together, removing Rhonwyn's leather boots, her mail leg coverings, the chausses; her hauberk with its metal shoulder pads. Beneath the knight's garb they unlaced her padded arming doublet, and took off her braies, her hose, her chemise. Rhonwyn lay naked before them, her slender frame sweating and dirty but lovely.

"Allah! She is absolutely beautiful," Nilak said. "There has never been a woman here as fair, Baba Haroun."

The chief eunuch stood silent for a long moment, studying Rhonwyn. Her body was utterly flawless but for that ugly bush of hair at the junction where her two thighs met. That would be removed immediately. The limbs, however, were shapely and firm. The breasts small but nicely rounded with pert nipples. Bathed and properly garbed, she would be truly worthy of his master's bed.

"She is lovely," a new voice interjected, and they turned to find the lady Alia had joined them. "What kind of a girl do you think she is?"

"Warlike and difficult," Baba Haroun said immediately.

Alia laughed and patted his hand. "You are too protective of me, Haroun, and most prejudiced where any other woman is concerned. What think you, lady Nilak?"

"I am not certain yet, my lady, but this girl is, I believe, intelligent. I do not sense any wickedness about her, but she has been in my company only an hour or more. However, a woman who could convince her husband to allow her warlike pursuits is both clever and headstrong. She has been very brave these past few days, as you will come to see when I tell you her tale. Now she has only just realized her fate, and it has put her into shock. We will ascertain more of her character when she awakens in a few hours."