The Love Slave (55 page)

She had sat listening to him quietly, taking in his words with amazement Now he had ceased speaking, and her mind was awhirl.
Karim! She was going to be Karim’s wife!
It was unbelievable! Zaynab burst into tears, to the astonishment of Hasdai ibn Shaprut.

“What is the matter?” he cried to her.

“I am so happy,” she answered him, sniffling.

“Ahhh,” he replied. He had seen his mother and sisters weep
in this irrational manner. “Then you are content with the fate the caliph and I have arranged for you, my dear?”

“Yes! Yes!” she told him, and then, “Ohh, Hasdai, how can I ever thank you for your unselfish kindness? I shall never be able to repay you, but I will always remember this wonderful thing you have done. I will never get over the blow of returning here to find my little daughter dead and buried, all trace of her gone from this house as if she had not ever existed. I miss Oma more than I had thought to miss her, even if I am happy she has her own life now. I tried to look forward, not backward, but all I could see stretching before me was years and years of loneliness, broken only by your visits. It is simply not enough for me, Hasdai! Thank you for understanding that.”

“Do not make me into a hero, Zaynab, for I am not. I am a selfish man, wrapped in my work, and had your child survived her illness, I should have not let you go. You would have taught me pleasures of a sort I never thought to know. I shall miss you, and I shall miss them,” he said with a smile.

“If you would let me, I could find you a beautiful slave girl, and educate her as to how to give you those pleasures,” Zaynab said.

“No,” he responded. “No matter how skilled she would become, she would not be you, my dear. Remember, you are no ordinary concubine. You are a Love Slave, a creature of sensuality and intellect, unique among women.”

“You must not go back to what you were before you first came to my bed,” Zaynab replied firmly. “You must not allow your love juices to be bottled up and fester. It is wrong, Hasdai!”

“I am skilled enough now, thanks to you, my dear,” he said with a chuckle, “that I shall not be ashamed to visit Cordoba’s most skilled courtesans when the need arises.”

“At least once a week, and better twice,” she said seriously.

“When I can find the time,” he answered her.

“Which means practically never,” she fumed. “You must have someone in your house, Hasdai, someone convenient, or you will never relax. If you do not want to own another slave girl, perhaps you could make an arrangement with some young
courtesan to come to you twice weekly here in this house,” Zaynab suggested.

“This house is yours,” he told her.

“I give it to you,” she said with a smile. “You prefer living outside of the quarter, and this house is very secluded. It suits you. You can work here when you choose, and entertain with the utmost privacy, my lord. Give me the deed. I will sign it over to you. You will have to find your own cook, however. I intend to take Aida with me. No! I will find you a cook. If I leave it to you, it will never get done. I must leave you with everything running smoothly, Hasdai.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth one after another.

“You are beginning to sound like my mother,” he grumbled at her, and then he laughed. “I told the caliph that you were really meant to be a wife, and a mother. I am happy to see my judgment proved correct.”

Zaynab had a whole new lease on life. She sent Naja to the chief rabbi in the Jewish quarter with a polite note inquiring if he could recommend to her a respectable spinster or widow to housekeep and cook for a gentleman of the faith. Naja returned some time later in the company of a tall, spare woman who introduced herself as Mary am Ha-Levi. With her was her grandson, a boy of ten.

“I am all he has, my lady,” Maryam Ha-Levi explained. “Would we be given house room here?”

“Of course,” Zaynab told her, “the lad is welcome too. You must start immediately because I know you will want to set up the kitchens in a different manner than my own cook, Aida, has them. If this is not done before I go, and if you are not firmly established here, my lord will not know what to do. There will be confusion.”

“I completely understand, my lady,” Maryam Ha-Levi replied “Men are not very practical or organized when it comes to the household. That is why the Lord God created women, I am certain. Is the master of this house to be its only occupant?”

“Yes,” Zaynab replied, “although he may have guests from time to time. He will not always come home at proper mealtimes,
I fear; or he will forget, and eat elsewhere. It will not be easy serving him, Maryam, but he is a good man. You must not scold him unless it is with kindness. His work absorbs him almost completely. Now, on each Wednesday and Saturday night, your master will be visited by a young courtesan from the city. He may forget that she is here, and be late; or possibly not come at all. Please see that the young woman is well fed no matter the circumstances.”

“A courtesan?” Maryam Ha-Levi looked shocked. “Is this a respectable house, my lady? The reb said nothing about a courtesan. Whose house is this? I cannot bring my grandson into a house of ill repute.”

“This is my house, and I am the lady Zaynab, once favorite to our gracious lord, Abd-al Rahman. Our daughter is buried in the garden of this house. Now I am to go to the kingdom of Malina in Ifriqiya to be married to its prince. I am giving the house to my friend, the Nasi Hasdai ibn Shaprut. He will be your employer, Maryam Ha-Levi. I think you will find him respectable enough. Like any unmarried man, he has needs that must be served.

“My eunuch, Naja, has visited the Street of the Courtesans and personally selected a fine young woman to pleasure the Nasi. If I did not do this for him, he would be too shy to seek out the comfort of a woman for himself,” Zaynab concluded.

“He should find himself a good wife,” Maryam sniffed.

“No wife would put up with him.” Zaynab laughed. “He is wed to his work and his duty to the caliph. He will tell you that himself.”

“Well,” Maryam Ha-Levi considered, “a man like that needs to be taken care of, as you have said. The Nasi has a fine reputation for fairness. He will be a good master.” She was already considering the prestige she was about to gain in the quarter by being housekeeper and cook to Hasdai ibn Shaprut. “How many other servants are there?” she asked.

“A kitchen helper for you, two maidservants who keep the house clean, the stableman, and a gardener,” Zaynab replied. “It is not a big house, and its one lone occupant needs little. Any more servants would be frivolous.”

Maryam Ha-Levi nodded in agreement. “It’s enough to ensure that the food does not go to waste on the nights the master does not eat in his own house,” she said practically.

“Naja will show you to your quarters, Maryam Ha-Levi. When your master asks you, tell him you have agreed to serve him for four gold dinars a month, plus food and housing for your grandson and yourself,” Zaynab said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Four dinars! It is too much, my lady,” Maryam protested, her innate honesty coming to the forefront.

“The Nasi can well afford it,” Zaynab told her. “Besides, you will earn it. Your master is fair, but not easy. Also, you have the boy to think of, Maryam Ha-Levi. He must be educated, and will need gold to start a business one day so he may attract a well-dowered wife. One thing I ask of you, however. Will you place fresh flowers on my daughter’s grave each day? She is buried here in the arms of her nurse, Abra, one of your people. They died of the spotted fever several months ago. It is my one regret in leaving this house.”

Maryam Ha-Levi was touched by Zaynab’s request. She had obviously been a good mother. “I will honor your request, my lady,” she promised. “What was your daughter’s name?”

“The princess was called Moraima,” Zaynab said softly, tears springing to her eyes. She could still not say her baby’s name without weeping. Although she now realized that Moraima would have died whether she had been with her or not, she yet felt guilt for the child’s unexpected death in her absence.

“I will take Maryam Ha-Levi and show her the kitchens,” Naja interjected quickly. “And there are her new quarters to inspect as well, my lady.” Beckoning the woman to follow, he hurried off, leaving his mistress to recover herself.

“She loved her child,” Maryam Ha-Levi said, understanding.

“We all loved the little lady Moraima,” Naja said quietly.

A brand-new wardrobe had to be made for the bride. As Zaynab had taken it upon herself to make certain that Hasdai’s needs would be met after her departure, the Nasi, in turn,
arranged for the bride’s dowry, both financial and material. Several seamstresses were brought to the house, along with bolts and bolts of colorful, luxurious fabrics. There were blouses, coats, pantaloons, caftans, cloaks, and veils to be made. They were embroidered with silver and gold as well as jewels. They were lined, or quilted for cold days, or trimmed with fur. A female cobbler came and made patterns from Zaynab’s feet. These she carried back to her husband’s workshop so that slippers and boots could be made for the young woman who would soon be wife to Malina’s prince. Everything was done within the space of half a month’s time.

Hasdai brought Zaynab a wedding present, a magnificent necklace of sapphires and diamonds. “I have never given you a real gift before,” he said. “I did not realize it until the caliph asked me what my final present to you would be.”

She was stunned by his generosity. “I do not know what to say, my lord. It is a wonderful gift!”

“Abd-al Rahman has sent you a gift as well,” he told her, and handed her a small velvet bag.

Opening the bag, Zaynab spilled its contents into her hand. Her cupped palm glittered with the sparkle of multicolored gems. She shook her head in wonderment. It was a fortune. “Thank him for me, but also say the best gift he ever gave me was the only one I ever asked of him. Tell him I regret I did not take better care of that gift.” For a moment there was silence between them, and then Zaynab said, “I have a parting gift for you as well, Hasdai. Come and bathe with me.”

Zaynab’s new servant, Rabi, was struggling with learning both a new language and new customs. She wasn’t certain which was harder: trying to wrap her tongue about impossible syllables, or helping a naked man and woman bathe. Her cheeks were constantly hot, and it was not from the steam. Still, in the short time in which she had been with Zaynab, she had come to adore her, and would do anything for her mistress, even if it meant standing naked herself while she performed her duties.

Rabi was excited about the trip they would soon be embarking upon. Zaynab had told her of her impending marriage. “And do they also wash naked in this place to which
we’re going, my lady?” she asked as she rinsed her mistress with warm, perfumed water.

Zaynab nodded, her eyes twinkling, and turning to Hasdai, said, “Poor Rabi is not yet used to our ways. Naja thought it very funny when he first brought her to the bath that she did not want to remove her garments to wash. He had a terrible time convincing her, particularly as she does not yet speak our language well enough. In an effort to show her what to do, he finally removed his own garments. Rabi ran shrieking out into the garden, and poor Naja, embarrassed, had to dress himself again and seek me out to find Rabi and tell her it was all right.”

Hasdai laughed heartily. “Her poor flushed little cheeks do not add to her looks, particularly with all those freckles. I suppose I had better keep myself under control, else I frighten her.”

Zaynab dismissed Rabi for the evening, and they returned alone to her bedchamber. There, to the Nasi’s surprise, a beautiful young woman awaited them. She was as naked as they were. Her skin was milky white, her hair as black as ebony, and her eyes a vibrant violet color. Hasdai ibn Shaprut stared at her, fascinated, and to his surprise, he felt the beginnings of arousal. He looked to Zaynab.

She smiled softly. “This is Nilak. She is Persian, and lives on the Street of the Courtesans in the city. She will come each Wednesday and Saturday night to be with you. Try not to forget that she is here, Hasdai, and do come home,” Zaynab teased him. Then she took his hand. “Come, my lord. Together, Nilak and I will offer you a bit of pleasure.” She led him to the bed, and the three of them sheltered upon it. “Kiss her, my lord,” Zaynab gently instructed him.

To his surprise, he was very curious. Reaching out, he pulled Nilak into his arms, his mouth finding hers. Her breath was sweet, and the kiss she gave him was delightfully passionate. The scent of lilacs clung to her skin. Releasing her, he asked, “Can you speak, Nilak?”

“Of course, my lord Hasdai,” she said, laughing. Her laughter was like water running over stones in a brook, her voice sweet and exquisitely modulated. “I am honored that the lady Zaynab chose me for you.”

The Nasi looked over at Zaynab. Then reaching out, he put his other arm about her. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him sweetly. Hasdai was suddenly very aware that the situation in which he now found himself was one he had never imagined. Looking at one beautiful woman and then the other, he said, “I am overwhelmed, my dears, and I haven’t the faintest idea of how to proceed. I have but two hands and one pair of lips.”

Both of the women laughed, but it was Nilak who said, “Let us entertain you, my lord. You will soon see that it is possible to give us both incredible pleasure at the same time.” Then slithering out of his arms, she wriggled down, her ebony hair spreading over his thighs as she took his manhood into her mouth and began to suckle upon it.

Meanwhile, Zaynab reached up, and drew his head to hers, her tongue running teasingly across his lips, daring his tongue to come out to play. He complied with her unspoken request, while his hands found her breasts and he began to fondle them. His head was whirling with the series of sweet sensations assaulting him. Zaynab twisted her body about, and immediately his fingers found her mont, insinuating themselves between her nether lips, tantalizing her little jewel, pushing into her sheath to mimic a manhood.

“He is ready,” Nilak said, and while she lowered herself over him, slowly absorbing him into her sheath, Zaynab pulled away from her lover, drawing the pillows from beneath his shoulders so that he lay flat. Instinctively his hands reached up to caress Nilak’s high, cone-shaped breasts, even as Zaynab squatted over him, offering herself to his tongue and lips. Reaching out with his tongue, he began to flick it back and forth over her little nub of swelling flesh. His heart was beating wildly. His senses were all afire. His mind was reeling with the waves of pleasure now rolling over him. His manhood exploded with a force he had never known. Both women were sobbing with their own satisfaction as the trio collapsed, limbs entwined, in a loving heap of fulfilled passion.