The Sultan's Daughter (27 page)

‘No! No! No! Even if I believed all you said I would not be willing. To give myself to you would be to disgrace my blood. You are an enemy. Nobody believes the lies told by your General—that he has come here as the friend of Turkey and only to chastise the Mamelukes. We are not ignorant of what he did in Italy: of how he snared the people into believing that he was bringing them liberty, then trampled on them and robbed them of all they possessed. That is what he means to do here. He comes as a conqueror, to despoil our country and make us into slaves. And you,
Monsieur le Colonel
, have admitted to being on his Staff; so you must lend yourself willingly to the evil that he does. No! If it be my fate to be taken against my will I would rather it should be by an honest Arab bandit.'

Roger listened with amazement to her outburst. It had not occurred to him that she would regard him in such a light, and he was half inclined to think that she was making a show of patriotism only as another excuse for repulsing him. After a moment he said with a frown:

‘Madame, I fail to understand you. This is neither the time nor place for us to enter on a discussion of General Bonaparte's principles. At least no one can deny that he is a great soldier and that his victories have brought glory to France. Since you are half French one would expect you to be no less than neutral and have some admiration for him. But all this is irrelevant to our situation. I give not a damn how you feel on such matters. The night grows old and I have no mind to parley with you further. Under the age-old usage of war you are now mine, to do with as I will, and I have made clear my intentions. Oblige me by getting yourself undressed.'

Her tawny eyes flashed. ‘I refuse! I refuse to display myself naked before you.'

‘About that we shall see,' he said grimly. Then he began to take off his clothes.

As he did so, he was thinking with distress of how the delightful visions he had had of what would happen when he got her up to the bedroom had been rudely shattered. An
Eastern beauty of seventeen was the equivalent of a woman of twenty-five in Europe; so he had felt certain that she must have been married for some years. That being so, in view of what she owed him he had not expected to have any trouble with her. A becoming display of reluctance, no doubt, soon overcome by a little playful teasing. Then an acceptance of the will of Allah, followed by a sweet rhapsody of passion.

Instead he would now have to take her by force; and he had never had the least inclination for that sort of love-making for, to him, it robbed the act of the major part of its pleasure. He had taken a woman that way only once—the cynically promiscuous but beautiful Natalia Androvna—and then only to teach her a lesson for having given him a rendezvous and, instead of keeping it, having had him set upon and whipped for her amusement.

Yet he meant to take the lovely Zanthé. It was getting on for six months since he had parted from Georgina. He had lived with her only for six weeks and before that had endured a period of continence often months since the tragic death of Clarissa. As a very virile man his need for a woman was, therefore, great, and all the greater now that he had found one who satisfied his exceptionally high standards. He felt not the faintest scruple about the morality of the matter. He was doing no more and no less than hundreds of soldiers were doing that night in Cairo, and had done all over the world in conquered countries from time immemorial.

Having stripped to the buff, he slipped on a silk robe that he had bought the previous day, poured himself another glass of wine, drank it off and advanced on Zanthé. She had been standing by the big divan with her back half turned, so as to avert her eyes from him while he was undressing. In a final effort to render her complaisant he said:

‘My very dear and beautiful Zanthé. Once more I beg you to be reasonable. As you have been married you know what to expect and have naught to fear. Your husband is dead and you had no love for him. As a woman of French extraction you cannot really regard me as an enemy. Were it not for me you would now be going through hell upon bare boards, under a succession of filthy, brutal ruffians, and———'

‘I should not,' she cut him short. ‘I should have killed myself.'

‘Oh, come!' he protested. ‘That is easier said than done; unless you have a swift poison on you.'

‘No!' she cried. ‘With this!' And, with a sudden movement, she whipped out a razor-sharp, jewel-hilted stiletto from under her black robes.

Roger took a swift pace back. ‘I see!' he exclaimed. Then he laughed. ‘Now that gives me real pleasure. The fact that you are armed removes my last scruple about using force upon you. If you can protect yourself with that ugly weapon, even should you wound me seriously I will have you escorted to your home in the morning. If not you must submit to being ravished and delight in it, as did primitive woman with primitive man after he had fought with her and dragged her to his cave.'

Zanthé made no reply. She was breathing fast, but her eyes were now narrowed and fearless; and she held her dagger well back, ready to plunge it into him.

For a moment they eyed one another cautiously. Then he snatched up a cushion and threw it at her head. She ducked and glared at him. He laughed and threw another. Again, with an agile movement, she swayed her body sideways, so that it passed over her shoulder. Turning away he poured the last glass of wine from the bottle with leisurely inconsequence. Returning, he confronted her and said, still smiling, ‘You enchanting little fool. It is quite futile for you to exert yourself.' Then he raised the glass to his lips and drank again.

Seizing the advantage he had given her by tilting back his head, she raised her dagger and, her eyes blazing at his provocation, leapt at him. But he was ready for her. Instantly his glass came down and he flung its remaining contents straight in her face. Temporarily blinded by the wine, her rush ended in a stumble. Dropping the glass, he seized in one hand the wrist that held the dagger, twisted it from her with the other and flung it behind him to the far end of the room.

As she reeled back, still blinded, he gave her a violent push, his mouth now set in a hard line. The backs of her knees came in sharp contact with the edge of the divan. Her feet shot from beneath her and she fell prostrate upon it.
Next moment, ignoring her screams for help, his hands were tearing at her black garments, wrenching them off, to reveal first her bosom then her torso. Beneath her outer garments she was wearing a belt of gold net, set with precious stones, and a pair of voluminous red silk trousers, caught in at the ankles with gold bands. Holding her down with one hand, he tore those away with the other until she had not a vestige of clothing left on her.

For a moment he stood back while, panting and gasping, she tried to get the stinging wine out of her eyes by rubbing them with her knuckles. Staring down at her naked body he saw with delight that it was as perfect as her face. Her breasts were full and stood up proudly, her hips were beautifully rounded and her legs were longer in proportion to her body than those of the average woman.

‘Now!' he cried breathlessly.

‘Now, will you give in?' ‘No!' Her voice came in a hoarse shout. ‘Never! Never!'

His response was to fling himself on her. For a few minutes she struggled wildly, endeavouring to claw his face and bite his chin. But he jerked his head away and beat down her hands. Suddenly her body contracted beneath him and she gave a sharp scream. Then, just as suddenly, her limbs relaxed and she began to moan. He had often heard women moan like that and knew that it was from pleasure. Another few moments and she became as wild with passion as himself. Her arms came round him and clasped him in a vice. In Turkish she cried out some phrase to Allah that he could not interpret. Then it was all over.

Exhausted by their transports, they lay side by side, his arm encircling her neck. After a while she pulled away from him, turned her face to the wall and began to cry quietly. He knew the reason for her tears, and felt badly about them. In one thing, at least, she had not lied to him. She had, after all, proved to be a virgin. That accounted for the prolonged resistance she had put up, and it seemed evident now that her husband must have been a homosexual. But nothing could now undo what had been done and Roger endeavoured to comfort himself with the thought that she had suffered little by comparison with the fate that would have been hers at the hands of the men from whom he had rescued her. The dawn
was already filtering through the curtains, and he fell asleep.

It seemed that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was roused by Marbois knocking on the door. Bonaparte was an early riser and expected his Staff to be in attendance the moment he was ready to transact business. Roger would have given a great deal to have been able to remain, comfort Zanthé with sweet words and, perhaps, make love to her again. But he dared not linger. She was lying on her side in a deep sleep; so he crept out from under the light coverlet he had pulled over them before going to sleep, dressed very quietly and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Downstairs he drank the coffee that the servants had prepared for him, and ravenously demolished a plateful of sweet cakes. Then he called for Marbois and said to him, ‘I brought a lady home with me last night. She is up in the bedroom still asleep. Do not disturb her; but wait until she calls, then take her up anything she may ask for to break her fast. But on no account is she to be allowed to leave the bedroom or speak to the native servants. Keep her locked in, and I'll be back as soon as I can.' Buckling on his sword, he hurried round to headquarters.

For an hour he stood about with several of the other aides-de-camp in the ante-chamber, then Bonaparte asked for him. After giving him one swift glance, his master proceeded to stuff some sheets of paper, covered with close writing, into a thick envelope and seal it while he said:

‘I have already sent a despatch to the Directors, describing the Battle of the Pyramids. This is another, reporting my occupation of Cairo. I have selected you to carry it because, as you speak Arabic, you should meet fewer impediments to speed in the towns and villages through which you must pass. I have, several times, already pointed out to Admiral Brueys the folly of risking an encounter with the British Fleet by remaining on the Egyptian coast, and have urged him to seek safety by returning to Toulon; or, at least, under the guns of Malta. I hope that by the time you reach Alexandria you will find that he has sailed. If so, he will have left several frigates there to carry despatches to France. In that case, give the despatch to the Captain of one of them and tell him to have it forwarded with all speed from the first port under French
control that he can reach. Should Brueys still be loitering there, give it to him and tell him from me to delay no longer but be gone. Take any escort you desire and leave immediately.'

‘Mon Général
, you may rely upon me,' replied Roger promptly: Then he took the despatch, saluted smartly and, with rage in his heart, marched from the room.

Having given orders for a horse for himself, and a half-troop of Guides as escort, to be got ready at once, he hurried back to his lodging, still almost exploding with pent-up fury. He had long since come to the conclusion that the embraces of women were like olives out of a bottle; the first could be got only with difficulty but the rest came easily. From the moment he had been woken he had begun to look forward with intense delight to the second night that he would spend with Zanthé. Now that this mission had been thrust upon him it would be more than a week before he could hope to possess her again.

Arrived at the house he called loudly for Marbois and, when the young Provencal came hurrying from the back premises, Roger gave him his orders in a succession of swift, staccato sentences. ‘I have been ordered away on a mission. I expect to be away for at least a week. You will remain here and consider yourself as confined to barracks. In short, you will not leave the house. Have the servants buy anything the lady upstairs may ask for. But you will take up her meals yourself, and she is to be kept under lock and key. Neither the servants nor anyone else are to be allowed to communicate with her. If she asks you to take any message or letter for her you will accept it but not deliver it. Keep it until my return. Is that clear?'

‘Yes,
Monsieur le Colonel'
replied Marbois, drawing himself up. ‘I understand your wishes perfectly.'

‘Good,' said Roger. Then, thrusting some money to cover expenses into the young soldier's hand, he wheeled about and hurried back to headquarters.

Even by taking the short cut from Rahmaniyeh across the desert, the journey from Cairo to Alexandria was the best part of a hundred and fifty miles. The roads were no more than tracks, the heat was almost unbearable and, as no remounts
were available
en route
, the strength of the horses had to be husbanded. So, although Roger left Cairo on July 27th and made the best speed possible, it was not till the morning of August 1st that he reached Alexandria. He had rested his troop the previous night at Damanhûr, and had done half of the last thirty miles before daylight; so after five days of most exhausting travel he was very tired. Even so, he decided to accomplish his mission that day, sleep the night in Alexandria and set off on his return journey early the following morning.

After a talk with that tough veteran General Kléber, to give him the latest news, and having learned that the Fleet had not yet sailed, Roger secured a new mount and, in spite of the midday heat, rode on to Aboukir. There he found the line of three-deckers at anchor in a long, shallow bay with rocks and an island at its far end. A boat took him off to the mighty
L'Orient
and, when the Officer of the Watch had sent his name to the Admiral, Brueys at once received him.

Having handed over his despatch Roger gave the Admiral Bonaparte's verbal message, upon which Brueys replied with a nod, ‘I am well aware of the General-in-Chief's view of the matter. It was originally planned that I should take the Fleet into the harbour of Alexandria, where it would have been safe from attack; but it was found that the harbour mouth was too shallow for my largest ships to enter. He then urged me to make for Corfu. But what sort of a Frenchman would I have been to turn my back on him at such a time?