Tide of Fortune (24 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, shocked and saddened at the reason for her sister’s hatred, and appalled at the depth of it.

‘Yes, well, I’m important now. I’m happy. And I’m going to marry a prince.’

‘If you’re happy, then I’m glad for you,’ Kerenza said.

Dulcie peered at her suspiciously. ‘You are? Truly?’

Kerenza nodded, biting the inside of her lip as she fought the urge to weep at the tragedy of it all.

Dulcie’s eyes narrowed. Then she smirked. ‘Admit it, you’re jealous, aren’t you?’

Jealous? Jealous over a man who used you and now can’t wait to be rid of you? Do you love him, Dulcie? Are you capable of loving anyone? Kerenza tasted sudden salty warmth. Some questions must never be asked. They were too cruel.

The approaching sound of a male voice made them look round. The prince crossed the court, accompanied by a man dressed in similar fashion to the vice-consul’s Jewish interpreter. A veiled female slave followed with a white bundle folded over her arms.

‘Aruj!’ A smile of delight lit Dulcie’s moon-like face, banishing her usual expression of fretful discontent. She looked almost pretty. ‘Why didn’t you come to see me when you got back? I’ve been waiting. I’m just so tired today, what with the heat and everything. Oh, this is my sister.’ She gestured vaguely.

Kerenza immediately rose and dropped a deep curtsy. As the Jew murmured into the prince’s ear, Kerenza realised he fulfilled the same function as Mordecai. But if the prince relied on an interpreter, then how had he and Dulcie –? She shut off the thought, ashamed of her curiosity, telling herself it was none of her business. Only that wasn’t true. Dulcie’s condition made it very much her business, for Dulcie had involved her in a situation that would change all their lives.

With the briefest of nods at Kerenza, the prince lifted Dulcie’s hand and held it between his, though he did not raise it to his lips. Dulcie darted a sidelong glance at her sister before tilting her face and arching her swollen body toward her reluctant lover.

Kerenza turned away, embarrassed by Dulcie’s attempt to elicit a public display of affection, sickened by the prince’s duplicity, and anxious neither should glimpse her reactions.

‘Now the ransom has been paid –’ the prince’s voice was deep and harsh, the interpreter’s soft and heavily accented ‘– you are free to leave the palace, and I can take you to meet my father.’

Dulcie’s eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink with excitement as she struggled to sit up and swung her feet off the couch. ‘Really? I’m going to meet the sultan?’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Do you hear that, Kerenza? I am going to meet the sultan. He’s emperor of all Morocco, you know. There used to be four, all ruling different bits. But now he’s the only one.’

‘Indeed?’ Kerenza murmured politely. Had it ever occurred to Dulcie to wonder how many men, women, and children might have been killed or maimed during the sultan’s battle for supremacy? Feeling the prince’s black gaze on her, she moistened her lips, hating what she was being forced to do, yet aware there was no alternative. ‘That’s a wonderful honour, Dulcie.’

Dulcie’s smile faltered as she glanced down. ‘But perhaps it might be better to wait until after the baby is born. It cannot be long now.’

As the Jew translated, the prince’s dark eyes flicked to Kerenza’s. Unable to stop herself, desperate that nothing should prevent them leaving as planned, she made a tiny negative movement.

‘No –’ The prince broke in before the interpreter had finished. Then he switched to his own language. ‘I do not wish to wait. You have proved you are fertile. That is of great importance in my country. We go today.’ He gave a brisk nod, then spoke some more.

‘Your condition makes it impossible for you to ride,’ the interpreter translated. ‘So his highness, Mulai Aruj, has arranged for you to sail to Rabat aboard the ship
Kestrel.
Your sister will be on hand to attend to your needs, and the journey will be more comfortable for you.’

So that was Nick’s plan. It was brilliant – if it worked. Kerenza could feel her heart pounding in her breast, its rhythm fast and loud in her ears, as she saw suspicion cloud her sister’s features.

‘What about you?’ Dulcie demanded of the prince. ‘You are coming with me?’

‘But of course,’ the interpreter said as Mulai Aruj lifted Dulcie’s plump fingers to his lips. ‘His highness says it grieves him that you have been apart for so long. When you reach Rabat, he wishes to spend time with you, for there is much to discuss.’

‘Oh yes. There is indeed. When we’ll be married, and where we shall live.’ Dulcie laid her cheek against the prince’s hand.

Kerenza looked away, unable to watch. The prince’s caress and loving smiles were a lie, a Judas kiss, so he could be rid of a young woman whose life he had ruined. Dulcie’s dream would soon become a nightmare.

What of
her
life? Slowly, warily, she had begun to hope again, to believe that she and Nick might have a future together. But now –

The prince snapped his fingers and the slave girl stepped forward, placed the bulky bundle on the couch, and helped Dulcie to her feet.

‘What’s this?’ Dulcie asked as the slave picked up a white robe and started to help her into it.

‘It is a
ha’ik
,’ the interpreter said. ‘To cover you while you walk to the harbour.’

‘But it’s so hot. Why do I –?’

‘Believe me, Dulcie, it is better we are not recognised,’ Kerenza said as she donned the voluminous garment and adjusted her headscarf. She would never forget the hisses and stares she had endured the day of her arrival. ‘If we are dressed like Muslim women we will not be insulted, or even noticed.’

‘But why should I hide?’ Dulcie pouted.

‘Dulcie,’ Kerenza interrupted gently. ‘It has nothing to do with hiding. The rules of behaviour are different here. The prince will expect you to set an example.’ She noticed the interpreter murmuring into the prince’s ear, caught the prince’s dark gaze, glimpsed speculation, and looked swiftly away as fury surged through her.

Clicking her tongue, Dulcie heaved a sigh. ‘Oh well, if I must.’ She stopped resisting and allowed the slave to shroud her in white folds.

A few moments later, another slave emerged from Dulcie’s quarters with a large bundle. With the prince leading the way, his interpreter at his shoulder, the sisters following with the two slaves behind them, the party set off through the courts and passages of the palace.

Kerenza sensed their departure was being watched, though all she glimpsed was an occasional veiled face swiftly withdrawn behind a pillar or a colourful robe disappearing through an arch.

‘Did you do any gardening?’ she asked, saying the first thing she could think of to distract Dulcie’s attention.

‘Of course not,’ Dulcie snapped. ‘Really, Kerenza, what a stupid question. There are slaves for that sort of thing. Why would I want to get my hands dirty?’

At main entrance to the castle grounds, the prince spoke briefly to the slaves, who glanced at each other, and quickly nodded. Then, smiling at Dulcie, he spoke again. The interpreter explained that his highness had instructed the slaves to accompany the sisters down to the beach. As soon as he had completed some last-minute business he would join them. His bags were even now being packed.

Kerenza’s heart lurched into her throat as Dulcie hunched her shoulders in a manner all too familiar. It signalled mutiny.

Once more the prince lifted Dulcie’s hand, kissing each finger then covering them with both his. His harsh voice grew softer, huskier. Listening to the soothing sound, watching him bend and fix Dulcie with his limpid dark-lashed gaze, Kerenza understood how her lonely, inexperienced sister had been beguiled. The man was a skilled seducer, practised and predatory. Poor Dulcie.

‘You must know that I cannot walk through the streets with you,’ the Jew translated. ‘My rank forbids it. But I will join you within the hour. Now you must go. Already I am counting the moments until we are together again.’ Releasing her hand, the prince waved her away, smiling.

Kerenza drew Dulcie’s arm through hers and coaxed her away. ‘Come, Dulcie. It’s not good for you to be standing about. As soon as we are on board I’ll ask the steward to prepare cool drinks for you. And for the prince,’ she added quickly.

Dulcie hung heavily on her arm as they walked down the narrow sloping streets toward the Water Gate, the two slaves following behind.

The wind funnelled up through the street, swirling and flapping their
ha’iks.
Kerenza’s eyes stung and her chemise clung uncomfortably to her damp skin.

‘This is awful,’ Dulcie whined. ‘I shouldn’t have to walk. Aruj should have ordered a litter for me.’

‘I think that might have been difficult because of the slope. It’s this wind that’s so uncomfortable,’ Kerenza sympathised. ‘You’ll feel much better once we’re on the ship. I found the movement of the waves helped me sleep.’

‘I hope I won’t be sick,’ Dulcie said.

As they passed through the Water Gate and started down the long ramp, Kerenza’s stomach cramped with apprehension as she saw the state of the sea. The wind had pushed up a heavy swell that thundered against the remains of the mole on the northern side of the bay. To the south and west, waves broke and foamed up the beach before being sucked back to rear, curl, and crash again.

Kestrel
had left her anchorage. Headsail and jib set, her fore and mainsails reefed down, she cruised slowly about 200 yards out. The wind was angled onshore. Kerenza knew it would require remarkable skill to steer the packet close enough to pick up the cutter while keeping well clear of the mole. She guessed Maggot was at the wheel, assisted by able seaman Collins.

Searching anxiously among fishing boats for the cutter, she released a tremulous sigh of relief as she saw it nosing in through the surf. Then she glimpsed Nick at the water’s edge. Just as she spotted him he turned and waved, beckoning her down.

‘We’re nearly there,’ she encouraged her sister. ‘It’s not far now.’

Suddenly Dulcie stopped, tugging Kerenza’s arm. ‘Look how rough the water is.’

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Kerenza reassured her. ‘The cutter’s crew is used to far worse than this. To them it’s no more than a ripple. They’ll have us on board the packet before we know it.’

‘No.’ Dulcie pulled against Kerenza. ‘It doesn’t look safe.’

Hearing whispering behind them, Kerenza glanced round. The two female slaves had stopped a few feet further back. The one carrying the bundle threw it down. Then they both turned and ran back up the ramp. 

Chapter Twenty

‘Where are they going?’ Dulcie demanded. ‘How dare they? They can’t just run away.’

But Kerenza had stopped listening, her attention caught by Nick’s voice. She could hear him shouting, but the noise of wind and surf made it impossible to discern the words. His waving arm urged them to hurry. As the cutter surfed in, two seamen jumped out, working swiftly with the others, who used their oars to turn the boat so it was facing seaward again.

‘Come on, Dulcie.’ Kerenza tried to draw her sister forward. ‘They are waiting for us.’

Dulcie shook herself loose. ‘Well, they’ll just have to carry on waiting. We can’t leave without Aruj. I’m sure that once he sees how rough it is he’ll say we shouldn’t go at all. Then I’ll have walked all this way for nothing. I don’t know what you were thinking of, Kerenza.’

Kerenza’s heart hammered against her ribs. To get Dulcie into the boat, she had first to get her to the bottom of the ramp. She moistened her lips. ‘I expect the prince is on his way. Look, while we wait, why don’t we –?’

A shot rang out. Kerenza gasped as chips of stone flew off the top of the wall a couple of feet behind Dulcie’s head.

‘What was that?’ Dulcie said. ‘It sounded like –’

‘Quickly.’ Kerenza grabbed her sister. ‘We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. We have to get down onto the beach.’

The crack of a second shot was followed by another
ping
as more chips flew from the wall. Dulcie’s shriek was lost amid a volley of gunfire.

Kerenza’s heart threatened to burst through her ribs. Who? Why? Then she realised that though the first two shots had come from somewhere above them, the rattling fusillade had come from a different direction, from below – from the beach. Please God let it be from
Kestrel
’s cutter.

Peering anxiously over the wall, she saw two seamen kneeling on the sand and shingle, guns at their shoulders aiming toward the castle, as Nick raced up the beach toward the ramp. Nick had armed the crew. Had he suspected this might happen?

Instinctively ducking so she would offer a smaller target, Kerenza supported her whimpering sister down the slope. Another shot cracked. Dulcie jerked, screamed, and fell. The sudden dragging weight pulled Kerenza to her knees and she toppled over, landing heavily on her right shoulder and bumping her head on the stone ramp. Everything went dark for an instant and her ears rang. She longed to just curl up and let whatever was going to happen take its course. But she couldn’t.

‘Dulcie?’ she croaked, scrambling dizzily to her knees and crawling toward the crumpled, groaning figure. The sound of running feet brought her head up. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she gasped as Nick and two more seamen pounded up the slope. ‘She’s hurt, but I don’t know where or how badly.’

‘We’ll worry about that once we get her on board the ship.’ As the two seamen hefted Dulcie’s semiconscious body between them and hurried back down the ramp, she felt herself lifted to her feet.

‘Were you hit?’ His voice sounded rough, strained.

She shook her head and wished she hadn’t, clutching at him while the world spun and black dots hovered at the edges of her vision. ‘N-no, just a bit shaken. I’m all right.’

‘Of course you are,’ he said dryly.

Hearing the underlying tenderness, she was torn between hysterical laughter and aching despair. She had to be all right, for Dulcie’s sake, and her father’s. Nick’s arm encircled her waist and she felt as if she was melting. As he took her weight, she yearned to lean into him, hide her face against his chest, and let go of all the responsibilities she had never sought in the first place.

He urged her forward. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘W-who – and why?’ Kerenza stuttered through teeth chattering from shock. She could hardly believe what had happened. ‘I thought – Surely there was an agreement?’

‘A nest of snakes, more like. Treacherous bastards,’ Nick spat. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, ‘I shouldn’t have –’

‘But who would shoot at us?’ Kerenza broke into his apology. She was not offended. Though she would not have used such words herself, she totally agreed with his sentiments.

‘Take your choice. It could have been the governor’s men, the chieftain’s, the prince’s, perhaps the sultan’s
Bukharis
if his spies have told him what’s been going on.’ Nick’s jaw was tight, his eyes murderous. Despite the oppressive heat, Kerenza’s skin tightened in a shiver.

‘But
why?
We’re leaving.’

‘The only reason I can think of is that your sister’s pregnancy is not only a personal embarrassment to the prince, it’s also a possible threat to the sultan. Yes, she’s leaving. But she’s still carrying the prince’s child. If your father decided to lodge a formal complaint through the British government, it could cause all kinds of political problems.’

Clinging to Nick, for her legs felt like jelly, Kerenza tried to walk faster. He was right. They had to get away as quickly as possible. Hopefully the marksmen believed they had succeeded. But what if they realised Dulcie hadn’t been killed? What might they try next? Kerenza’s skin crawled and her muscles tensed in dread and anticipation of further shots. But none came.

Lifted into the cutter, she clambered shakily between the oarsmen to reach her sister, who was huddled in the bow, her eyes closed, a dark red stain below her left shoulder shockingly vivid against the pristine whiteness of her
ha’ik
.

Kerenza clung to the gunwale as the cutter reared, breasted the rollers as they curled and broke, and plunged into the trough behind. The men strained at their oars. Then the boat was through the surf and racing toward the packet.

Drawing the scarf away from her sister’s ashen, pain-furrowed face, Kerenza took her hand. Dulcie’s fingers tightened on hers and she tried to speak.

‘We’re nearly there,’ Kerenza soothed. ‘Then I can make you properly comfortable.’

‘Aruj?’ Dulcie managed weakly.

Kerenza drew a deep breath. The only comfort she could offer her sister was to keep on lying. ‘He’ll be here soon.’

Carried below by Broad and Toy, Dulcie was laid gently on the lower bunk in the cabin previously occupied by the Woodrows. Reassuring Kerenza that her father, though groggy, was otherwise in good health and asking for his dinner, Broad brought Kerenza’s box from the trunk in her cabin, then hurried away to fetch hot water.

Kerenza stripped off her scarf and
ha’ik.
Then she took out her scissors and extended the tear made by the ball through Dulcie’s blood-soaked garments. She gritted her teeth and, with trembling hands, carefully peeled back the layers of sodden cloth to expose the wound.

Dulcie moaned, moving restlessly in the bunk. ‘K’renza?’ Her voice was cracked and weak. ‘It hurts.’

A furrow had been gouged through the soft flesh above Dulcie’s right breast and across the front of her shoulder. But as Kerenza examined the wound she released her breath in a ragged sigh of relief.

‘Indeed, I’m sure it must hurt. The gash is deep. But at least the ball didn’t lodge.’ Fresh blood oozed from the raw edges and welled from the furrow, dribbling over Dulcie’s white skin. ‘As soon as I’ve bathed it and put a bandage on, I’ll ask Broad to bring a cup of tea. Then I’ll see if I can find something that will ease the pain. You’ve had a nasty shock.’

There was a brief knock. As Kerenza glanced over her shoulder, the door opened and Broad, his face carefully averted, held out a steaming jug.

‘How’s she doing, miss? Mr Penrose want to know if ’tis serious.’

Wiping her hands on the ruined
ha’ik
, Kerenza took the hot water. ‘N-not as bad as it might have been, but –’

Suddenly, Dulcie gave a loud cry that ended with a hiss as she sucked air in through her clenched teeth.

Whirling round, Kerenza saw Dulcie was curled on her side, her knees drawn up. Her arms cradled her belly and her face contorted in a rictus of agony. ‘It
hurts
.’

Kerenza stared at her sister. She knew at once. But she didn’t want to believe. Not now, not on top of everything else. What had started it: the fall? The shock of being shot at? The physical damage caused by the injury? What did it matter? She clapped her free hand to her mouth, to smother the scream she could feel swelling in her chest.

Dulcie panted, her voice climbing in terror. ‘The pain – I can’t – Kerenza, do something. Make it stop!’

Kerenza cleared her throat, trying to quell her own panic as she turned to the steward, keeping her voice low. ‘I think the baby’s coming.’

‘Bleddy hell,’ Broad muttered. ‘What can I do, miss?’

‘She needs a doctor.’

‘I’ll tell Mr Penrose directly. Though with the wind against us it might take a day or more to reach Gibraltar,’ Broad shook his head. ‘Be all right, will you, miss? Only –’ He broke off with a helpless shrug.

There was no one else. She would have to manage. Kerenza struggled for control, tried to think. ‘M-more hot water. Please ask Maggot for some of that
kif
potion he made for Lady Russell. ‘

‘Two shakes, miss.’ The steward disappeared, closing the door.

Another loud, panicky cry drew Kerenza toward the bunk.

‘Where’s Aruj? Has he come yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Kerenza poured water into the basin and started tearing the
ha’ik
into strips. ‘I’m going to put some honey on your shoulder. It will –’ She stopped as Dulcie jerked, eyes wide, the contraction so severe she didn’t even have the breath to scream.

A wave of panic swept through Kerenza, leaving her drenched in perspiration. It was all happening too fast. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. She took her sister’s hand. Dulcie gripped it tightly, panting as the pain receded.

‘He should be here by now. What’s keeping him?’ she moaned as Kerenza wrung out a cloth and gently bathed the wound.

‘He did say he had important business to take care of.’ Kerenza’s voice shook. She shouldn’t have to do this. She wasn’t a midwife. Nor was she a practised liar. Except that wasn’t true. She had lied to Nick about her reasons for leaving her family. She had lied to herself about not loving him. But Dulcie was her sister and had gone into labour. She couldn’t leave her. So she would have to go on lying. ‘I think your baby is on its way.’

‘No!’ Dulcie wailed. ‘It can’t be. I have to meet the sultan. Do something, Kerenza.’

What was she supposed to do? How could she stop nature? There was a knock on the door.

‘Aruj?’ Dulcie gasped. Kerenza turned away from the desperate hope on her sister’s face. Scrambling to her feet, she lurched across the tilting cabin to open it. Broad handed her a wooden bucket containing another jug of steaming water.

‘So it won’t fall over,’ he said. ‘Anyhow, I thought you’ll prob’ly be needing the bucket.’ He handed her a cup. ‘I’ve told the cap’n – Mr Penrose. He’s making for Gib. This here’s Mr Maggot’s brew.’ He winced, backing away as Dulcie’s voice climbed in another scream. ‘Dear life, in some bad way, she is.’

From then on things got worse. Dulcie spat out the first mouthful, shuddering and shrieking that Kerenza was trying to poison her. Setting the cup down and wedging it so it wouldn’t tip as the ship rose and plunged, Kerenza concentrated instead on trying to bandage the wound with a honey-smeared pad to aid healing and minimise the risk of infection. But Dulcie’s crying and thrashing about made it very difficult.

Two more wrenching contractions had her begging for relief and she allowed Kerenza to support her head while she gulped down half a cupful of the dark liquid. But even as Kerenza released a breath of relief, Dulcie vomited it up again all over Kerenza’s muslin gown.

‘Where is Aruj?’ she sobbed. ‘Has he come yet?’

Kerenza had to bite her tongue to stop herself shouting out the truth: that he hadn’t come, wasn’t coming, and never intended to come. Telling Dulcie the truth might relieve a little of her own strain, but what would it do to her sister? Wasn’t she suffering enough? What kind of person would deliberately inflict even more pain?

‘Even if he has,’ she managed though teeth clenched to stop them chattering from nerves and stress, ‘this is no place for a man.’

Later – it might have been one hour, it might have been three, Kerenza had no way of knowing – Dulcie clutched her hand with cold, slippery fingers.

‘I can’t go on with this.’ Her voice was hoarse. Cracked lips peeled back from her teeth as another pain overwhelmed her. Too weak and exhausted to scream, she could only groan, low and deep like an animal. The contractions were close now; each one left her shaking violently. Her skin glistened, dark shadows encircled her eyes, and blood smeared her fissured lips. Then she curled her body and her face contorted with effort.

Kerenza barely had time to lay the wadded
ha’ik
beneath her. ‘Come on, Dulcie,’ she urged. ‘Push. The baby’s nearly here.’

A few minutes later a dusky, slippery little body slid into Kerenza’s waiting hands. As she laid the baby on a clean piece of the torn
ha’ik,
tears cascaded down her cheeks. The contrast between this child’s arrival in the world – unwanted, an inconvenience to its father – and the little girl born to Judith Russell and her husband was unbearably poignant.

Swallowing hard, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she tied the cord in two places, and cut it. Little legs kicked and fists waved as the baby gave a lusty wail. Folding the cloth around the small body, she lifted the bundle and bent over her semi-conscious sister.

‘Dulcie? You have a beautiful son.’

Dulcie turned her sweat-damp head on the pillow as Kerenza placed the baby against her side. She glanced at him. ‘You hurt me,’ she accused. Then she looked up, pleading, desperate.

‘Aruj?’ She tensed, shuddering as another contraction seized her.

‘Later,’ Kerenza soothed. ‘We’re not finished yet.’

‘No more,’ Dulcie sobbed. ‘I can’t –’ She strained again, shaking with effort. But nothing happened.

Remembering what she had read in the book, one of the few sentences that offered practical advice, Kerenza placed her hand gently on her sister’s lower abdomen. The flesh was spongy and flaccid beneath her palm. Then she felt the muscle beneath begin to harden as the next contraction began, and gently pressed down with the heel of her hand. Dulcie gasped, her eyes suddenly wide as the afterbirth slid out.