The Love Slave Part 4

Regan laughed. "It dinna suit me either," she told Morag.

The voyage to Ireland was an uneventful one. While the other women alternately wept and prayed the time away, Regan MacDuff and Morag became friends. Both of them thought their companions foolish creatures to bewail a fate that could not be changed.

The ship upon which they sailed was a st.u.r.dy vessel. Because the light summer winds could not fill its sails, the twenty men at the oars were kept busy. The women were fed bread and dried smoked fish, and given water to drink from a large barrel that stood by the main mast. During the day they huddled nervously together in the stern, whispering, while at night they slept restlessly beneath the canvas awning. A single bucket was provided as a necessary, and emptied into the sea each time it was used.

Regan had certainly never considered her life at Ben MacDui a luxurious one, but by comparison to her current circ.u.mstances it seemed sumptuous. The other women were peasants. They knew no better. What would Gruoch think of this? Regan wondered. Did Gruoch even consider what might be happening to her twin any longer? Or was her life as Ian Ferguson's wife all she wanted or needed now? She would never know.

The afternoon of the fourth day out from Strathclyde they sailed across Dublin Bay and into the mouth of the Liffey River, where they anch.o.r.ed for a short time awaiting the tide. Regan had never seen a town before, but the ragtag cl.u.s.ter of wooden buildings that made up the settlement called Dublin didn't particularly impress her. Gunnar Bloodaxe strode to the stern, sending the fearful women scuttling into a whimpering knot, but for Regan and Morag.

"I want ye with me now," he addressed her harshly.

"Morag too," she told him boldly.

"I canna sell her to Donal Righ," he said impatiently. Why was he even arguing with her? "Yer the prize in this batch, wench." Gunnar Bloodaxe gestured impatiently.

"Do ye think only my beauty will affect this Donal Righ?" she asked him. "I think he will be even more impressed if I have my servant wi' me. I am, after all, a laird's daughter, Gunnar Bloodaxe."

He silently debated her contention, and decided that she was absolutely correct. A n.o.bleman's daughter and her servant. Donal Righ would pay well for such a purchase, and he would be affected by its elegance. Donal Righ was a man who appreciated style. "Very well," Gunnar Bloodaxe agreed, "your servant comes too." He turned about, and hearing the obedient footsteps behind him, smiled, satisfied.

Regan grinned conspiratorily at Morag. They had planned this together the previous night while the other women slept. Neither of them had ever had a friend before, and they did not want to lose one another.

The ship's anchor was finally pulled aboard. The vessel moved slowly under oar power up the river to a long wooden dock where it was made fast The women in the stem of the boat began to wail again.

Gunnar Bloodaxe looked thoroughly disgusted. He turned to his first mate, Thor Strongbow, and said, "Dispose of them in the usual manner while I take this prize and her servant to Donal Righ. Don't let Lars Silversmith cheat you. You have ten women. All are in their prime, and none is ill or weak. They're excellent slaves. I will expect a goodly weight in silver for them." Then he looked at Regan and Morag, who were close by his side. "Come then," he said, and hurried off the ship, the two young women behind him.

They followed him down the long wooden dock, gazing with interest at the other vessels tied up there. Some were smaller than the boat they had traveled on, but others were much larger and more elaborate. The men upon the decks were equally interesting to the two girls. Some were fair, others darker-skinned, and to their amazement, there were a few who were actually black in color. They were fascinated, and a bit afraid, as they hurried along after Gunnar Bloodaxe.

Dublin was the first of the Viking settlements of any note in Eire. It had been founded over a hundred years ago upon the site of two earlier Celtic settlements. The Vikings called their town Dubh linn, meaning dark pool, after the place where the river Liffey and a smaller stream called the Poodle met and joined. The Norwegians and Danes had battled for supremacy in the town over the past century. It had been destroyed once by the Celtic tribes, but within twenty years was flourishing once again. It was in Dublin that the Vikings had introduced the lucrative slave trade to the Irish. It now flourished along with other commerce. Until recently cattle had been the currency of exchange, but of late the Nors.e.m.e.n of Dublin had taken to coinage of gold and silver. It had made trade far more interesting, and easy.

Upon a rise within the town they stopped before a structure erected from both stone and wood. Gunnar Bloodaxe rapped sharply upon the large oak doors of the building with the hilt of his sword. Within moments the door was opened a crack and a small dark face peered out curiously. Then the visitor was recognized, and the door opened wider to admit him and the two girls.

"Greetings, Abu!" Gunnar Bloodaxe boomed in his rasping tones. "I see the G.o.ds still allow you to live on in the house of Donal Righ."

"I survive, Gunnar Bloodaxe," a high, piping voice responded.

"I never saw anyone so small," Morag whispered to Regan.

"What kind of a man is he?" Regan asked Gunnar.

"He's a pygmy," came the answer.

Regan did not understand, and she shrugged at Morag, who was equally confused. They were in a courtyard enclosed by the building's walls. It seemed overcrowded with goods and bales of all sorts and shapes. Gunnar turned about, gesturing to them to keep up as they followed Abu into a separate section of the building.

"Wait here," Abu ordered them, then hurried on short legs through a door. But a brief moment later he popped back out and called, "Come! My master will see you, Gunnar Bloodaxe."

They entered the room. Both girls were astounded by what they saw. The walls were of polished wood, hung with silk tapestries. The floor was of polished stone. There were no windows in the room, but a neat fire pit burned applewood, lightly scenting the air, and taking the chill out of the cloudy day. Lights such as they had never seen-tall, of metal, and footed-lit the room. There was a dais. Seated upon it in an armed chair with a leather seat was a man with light brown skin. He was a very round man, from his body to his smooth polished pate, and his hairless face resembled nothing more than a benign full moon. He was the most foreign-looking creature either of them had ever laid eyes on, yet when he spoke, his accent was familiar.

"What have ye brought me, Gunnar Bloodaxe?" he demanded, wasting no time on amenities. He wore a wonderful robe of silk, striped in purple, red, blue, and yellow, and his pudgy fingers were richly beringed.

"A n.o.bleman's daughter, Donal Righ. Plucked from her convent on the Scots coast of Strathclyde," Gunnar Bloodaxe replied. Reaching out, he pulled Regan's mantle from her, revealing her face and long pale gold hair, which was loose. "This maid is worth a fortune. The other girl is her servant."

"She is a virgin?" Donal Righ demanded.

"Alas, my lord, she is not," Gunnar answered him. "She was sent to the convent for taking her sister's husband for a lover."

"And you tried to be certain her virtue was indeed lost," Donal Righ said dryly. He shook his head. "Half her value is gone, Gunnar Bloodaxe. You know that."

"If she were any other girl, perhaps," Gunnar argued. He gestured at Regan to remove her tunic, pulling at it to hurry her along. "Look at her, Donal Righ!"

Regan now stood naked before the man, her long golden hair her only covering. Her belly was flat. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, though small, were mounds of snowy flesh, each topped by a deep pink berry of a nipple. Her legs were slender, tapering to slim ankles and high-arched, narrow feet. At the impatient prodding of Gunnar Bloodaxe's thick finger, she turned slowly, revealing the graceful sweep of her back, leading into the firm, rounded twin moons of her b.u.t.tocks.

"Hmmmmmm," Donal Righ considered, his gaze carefully a.s.sessing the woman before him. She might not be a virgin, but there was a delicious freshness about her.

"She is a jewel beyond price!" Gunnar Bloodaxe enthused.

"What is your name, girl?" Donal Righ asked her.

"Regan MacDuff, my lord," she told him.

"How many men have you known, Regan MacDuff?" he said.

"I lay wi' Ian Ferguson one time, my lord; and Gunnar Bloodaxe forced me once when I said I was nae a virgin," she explained to him.

"Why are you not afraid, girl?" His black eyes bored into her.

"I am afraid, my lord, but what can I possibly do to alter my circ.u.mstances? To weep and wail would be useless, would it nae?" she said.

He nodded. She had distinct possibilities. Her beauty would have been enough for most men, but he had a very special man in mind to master this girl. A man who would be as intrigued by the girl's intellect as he would be by her beauty. "She is very outspoken," he complained to Gunnar Bloodaxe nevertheless. "A slave should be humble."

"The boldness can be beaten out of her, Donal Righ," Gunnar Bloodaxe replied. "There are some men who might even enjoy such an exercise in discipline," he suggested with a smirk.

"Give the girl back her gown," Donal Righ ordered the Norseman. "I have seen enough. She is fair, but not a virgin. She is too forward, but perhaps with proper training I can eke out a small profit on her. Mayhap." He appeared to consider a moment, and then he said, "What do you want for the girl, Gunnar Bloodaxe, bearing in mind, of course, that her fairness does not make up for her many deficiencies?"

Gunnar Bloodaxe named his price, and Donal Righ winced delicately. He counteroffered, saying as he did, "The serving wench is to be included in the price as well. I cannot have the girl parted from her companion, lest it sadden her and she sicken and die. Too many of these girls will do that, you know, and then the entire investment is lost."

"If you would have the servant, Donal Righ, you will have to better yer offer," Gunnar Bloodaxe told him. He was not fooled. The slave merchant wanted his fair captive, as he had known that he would.

Donal Righ's short, stubby fingers worried the fabric of his sleeve. Properly trained, and he knew what she could be, the girl was perfect for what he had in mind. The Norseman was a wily, stubborn fellow fully capable of selling her as a wh.o.r.e to some Celtic brothel keeper just to get what he felt was a fair price. Donal Righ upped his offer by half again, and Gunnar Bloodaxe, who had not expected to get that good a price for Regan, was stunned. He nodded mutely.

"Abu, take the women to the baths, and see that they are made comfortable," Donal Righ instructed his servant quickly, before the Northman could change his mind. "Then bring me my strongbox, and send Gerda for wine, that Gunnar Bloodaxe and I may toast this sale between us."

"It is a good bargain," the Norseman said slowly, still amazed by his incredible good fortune. Eubh would certainly be surprised ... if he told her. He looked up to discover that the two girls had been shepherded from the room by the tiny Abu. "What will you do with her?" he asked Donal Righ. "You must have some purpose in mind, I know."

"I owe a debt to a certain lord in my mother's homeland," Donal Righ answered him. "I shall send the girl to him in grat.i.tude for his patronage. Fair-skinned and fair-haired girls are greatly prized amongst the Moors. He is a man who enjoys a variety of women. She will undoubtedly please him, furthering the lord's grat.i.tude to me." He smiled broadly at Gunnar Bloodaxe. "I have paid you too much for the girl, my friend, but it pleases me to do so, knowing the advantage the girl will give me with my lord."

"Yer a sly old fox." The Northman chuckled, feeling expansive now that he believed he had gotten the upper hand with Donal Righ.

"Will you be back in Dublin before year's end?" Donal Righ asked Gunnar Bloodaxe.

"I think not I would be home in time for the midsummer festivities. I'm taking another wife then, and my oldest two sons cannot get in the harvest without me. Besides, my cousin, Eubh, the abbess, will not have another shipment of slaves readied for me until next spring. Her convent is where I got this beauty. Mostly they are just peasant girls with small dowries sent to be nuns. Their families never expect to see them again. It makes it easy for us. If I ever get another like this one I've just sold ye, I'll bring her to ye, Donal Righ." He chuckled good-naturedly.

Abu returned, his little legs almost buckling beneath the weight of his master's strongbox. He was accompanied by a tall, spare woman carrying a tray with wine and goblets. Gunnar Bloodaxe watched, astounded, as Donal Righ removed small bars of silver from the br.i.m.m.i.n.g chest. The Norseman was a simple man with a single ship, a farmstead in Daneland, and two wives. In his entire life he had never seen so many riches. He wondered if there was some way in which he could steal the money box, but then decided there was not. Donal Righ's house was too well fortified.

Donal Righ shoved the bars of silver across the table to Gunnar Bloodaxe. "The price agreed upon," he said, closing the chest. He signaled to Abu, who picked it up and tottered from the chamber.

The serving woman had already poured them goblets of wine, and now stood deferentially by, awaiting her master's further orders.

Donal Righ picked up his goblet, nodding to his companion to do the same. "Skaal!" he said, and drank the wine down in a single gulp.

"Skaal!" Gunnar Bloodaxe returned, doing the same even as he pocketed the silver.

"May ye have good seas for yer return home," Donal Righ said, dismissing the Viking, who, realizing there was nothing left to say, thanked his host and departed. As he walked back through the town toward the docks, he wondered a moment about the beauteous Regan MacDuff. Then seeing Thor Strongbow coming toward him, Gunnar Bloodaxe hailed his mate and together they continued on their way back to the ship.

Chapter 3.

"What manner of place is this?" Regan asked the old woman called Erda.

"Why, child, it is a bathhouse," she replied "Have ye ne'er seen a bathhouse before? This is my domain. I am mistress here. It is my task to see that all of Donal Righ's expensive slaves are washed and cosseted so that they may be shown to their best advantage."

"At home we washed in the loch," Regan replied.

"Ye will like this," Erda promised. She turned to Morag. "Ye'll wash too, la.s.sie, but watch what I do for 'twill be yer task in the future to see to yer mistress's bath. Slaves such as the lady Regan are sold into the eastern countries, and there bathing is an art."

Abu had brought them from Donal Righ's chamber to this square stone building, where he had left them in the care of the plump old lady now attending them. At her direction they removed their clothes, a trifle surprised to see Erda removing hers as well. They were shocked to discover that she had no hair upon her body.

She saw them exchange looks, and chuckled. "The Moors like their ladies, both young and old, as smooth as silk," she told them. "The master's mother was a Moorish lady. I served her as a girl. In practices conducive to cleanliness, Donal Righ prefers the eastern ways. He says they are healthier."

"Why has Righ been added to his name?" Regan asked. "He is not a real king, is he?" The room in which they were now standing was filled with steam, and very hot. She had never been so warm in her entire life.

"He was the only child, alas, that my mistress ever bore her good lord. She called him the king of her heart when he was a babe and small lad. Eventually everyone began to call him Donal Righ." Erda ladled some water from a bucket over a pit of steaming stones, and immediately a foggy vapor arose with a sizzle and a hiss.

"I am going to die in this heat," Morag complained.

"Ye'll get used to it, la.s.sie," Erda said with a chuckle.

"Why do we do this?" Regan asked her.

"The steam makes yer body sweat, aiding in the removal of dirt and poisons from yer skin, lady," Erda explained. Once the girls were oozing sweat, she took up a silver sc.r.a.ping tool and drew it lightly down their bodies in a steady motion. "See," she finally said, "the dirt is swept away. Now if ye will follow me, we will go to the bathing chamber itself."

In the next room they found a square pool filled with scented water. Erda took them into a corner where a small fountain flowed. There, upon a shelf, were several alabaster jars. The old lady scooped a handful of soap from one and rubbed it briskly over Regan's body. The soft soap lathered and gave off a fragrance of lavender. She next washed Regan's hair while encouraging Morag to wash herself in the same manner. When both girls were soaped, she filled a basin with water from the fountain, pouring it over them until they were free of the scented cleaning substance.

"Now," she told them, "yer ready to be denuded of all that unsightly hair upon yer pretty bodies." Her hand sought another jar upon the shelf, and dipping into it, she smeared a pink paste over Regan's legs and pubic area. "Go on, la.s.sie," she said to Morag, and held out the jar. "Though ye'll ne'er be the beauty yer mistress is, yer a pretty girl, and will catch the eye of some guardsman, I'm certain."

Morag giggled, and following the old lady's instructions, smeared the pink paste over her own haired body parts.

After a few minutes Erda took a cloth and began removing the paste. As it disappeared, Regan's fair skin beneath was revealed smooth and flawless. Erda nodded, satisfied. She resoaped and rinsed the girl; Morag followed her lead. When both girls had been washed once again, she led them to the bathing pool and instructed them to enter it.

"Why?" Regan questioned her once more even as she stepped down into the warm, fragrant waters of the pool.

"Because, lady, it is pleasant and relaxing," Erda explained. Then she turned away to see to her own ablutions.

"I could get used to this," Morag admitted to Regan as they moved about the pool. "I nae knew such lovely things existed."

"Aye," Regan agreed with her friend. " 'Tis verra pleasing indeed."

Overhearing them, Erda chuckled as she entered the pool herself. "This is just the beginning, la.s.sies," she told them as she paddled about. "The world ye will enter is beyond yer imaginings."

"How would ye know?" Regan said.

"Did I not say I was a servant to the master's mother? Twice I went with her to her homeland. It is a city called Cordoba, in a place the Moors call al-Andalus. Never have I seen such a magnificent city! Nor such a wondrous place!"

"How can you know that we will go there?" Regan questioned.

Erda grinned, showing toothless gums. "I know everything that goes on in this household, and everything that is going to happen," she boasted to them. "For over a year now my master has been looking for a particularly beautiful slave woman whom he plans to send to the ruler of Cordoba. Ye see, he is in the caliph's debt." She climbed slowly up the steps from the pool, shaking herself free of water.

"What is a caliph?" Regan demanded.

"The caliph is the tide of the ruler of Cordoba," Erda explained to them. "Ye are, my beauty, the very one Donal Righ has waited to find. Ye'll see Cordoba before the year is gone, mark my words. Come now, and let us attend to the rest of your grooming."

She led the two young women from the bathing room into another chamber, which was furnished with marble benches. There she instructed Morag in the art of ma.s.sage, showing her the proper oils to use. She taught the girl how to carefully pare Regan's finger- and toenails. Lastly they dried Regan's long golden hair, combing just the tiniest bit of scented oil through it, and finally polishing it with a pure silk rag until it positively gleamed in the flickering lamps. While Morag had dried her own hair, Erda went to a chest, drawing forth fresh, clean garments for the two girls to wear. For Morag there was a soft, cotton chemise, a navy-blue undertunic, and a scarlet outertunic of fine linen. For Regan there was a silk chemise coupled with a natural-colored undertunic topped with an outertunic of pale blue satin embroidered in gold-thread windflowers.

Regan's hand fingered the embroidery atop the silk. "I hae nae anything so fine," she said in a soft voice.

" 'Tis just the beginning, la.s.sie," Erda counseled her. "Yer a beautiful young girl. Once yer properly trained, ye'll please the caliph well. He'll surely fall in love with ye. If ye have his sons, yer fortune will be made. Of course, ye'll have to watch out for the other women in his favor. They'll be a fierce lot, each trying to retain the caliph's attention, devotion, and favor. The harem is a cruel place. My mistress said it many times, and was grateful to be wed to my lord Fergus. She did not like the climate here, but she said it was worth it to escape the harem. Still, the harem is a grand place to be for a beautiful young thing such as yerself," Erda continued. Then she led the two speechless girls back to Donal Righ's chamber.

He sat at his supper, but seeing them, he smiled and beckoned them forward. "Ahhh," he said, pleasure written all over his round face, "Erda has done well by ye, I can see. She's a treasure, are ye not, old woman? Were she not, I should have found her a husband long ago. Some randy young sailor who'd keep her up all night, eh, eh?" His laughter boomed.

Erda cackled toothlessly. "Ye'll ne'er get rid of me, master," she said. "I love ye much too much."

He grinned, pleased. She was a relic from his youth, but for his late mother's sake he kept her. "Take the serving wench, what's yer name, la.s.s?" She told him and he nodded, saying, "Take Morag to the cook house and see she is fed, Erda. I'll call ye both when I need ye. Sit down, Regan, and join me at my supper. Pour yerself some wine, girl!" He pa.s.sed her a platter of broiled rabbit.

Regan took a trencher of fresh bread, a joint from the rabbit, and a silver goblet of wine. She ate delicately, desperately trying to remember what little manners she had been taught. The wine, however, she could not help but quaff l.u.s.tily. It was sweet and potent, and seemed to breathe new life into her veins.

"Cheese?" He offered her a wedge upon the end of his knife.

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, taking it and biting into it, chewing more slowly now. As she finished she was startled to find Abu at her elbow. She hadn't even noticed that he was in the room. He held out a basin of warm, perfumed water to her. She looked to Donal Righ.

"Wash yer hands in it," he instructed her. "Ye don't want to ruin that pretty tunic dress of yers, do ye? 'Tis a custom of the Moors."

" 'Tis a custom I like," she answered him, rinsing her fingers free of the greasy rabbit and cheese crumbs.