CHAPTER 29

She woke in a carriage to find herself bound and gagged. This was not Louis' carriage; this was an old, moldy smelling wooden carriage. The rigid seat did not even have cushions. She pulled at the ropes binding her hands and feet, but they would not budge an inch. Her left shoulder was killing her, with her arm being tied behind her back and all. The cloth gag stuffed inside her mouth and practically shoved down her throat tasted like dirt and sweat.

The two men on the opposite side of the carriage leered at her. They were grimy and ragged, fitting the unsettling stereotype of a hardened criminal. She was definitely being kidnapped. She tried to scream but the stupid gag muffled her.

"Ah, so the princess is finally awake," said the older, dirtier of the two. His right eyelid drooped lower than the left and his nose was way too big for his little round head. He looked more like an assistant to a mad scientist than anything. His stare gave her the shivers.

They would never get away with kidnapping her. She figured they must be insane or idiots. It was not as if there was no one who would miss her. Yet they had overtaken Louis' guards. She was sure Louis had by now sent out a search party to recover her.

The younger man turned to the other with a concerned face. "Hey Bailey, you didn't say we'd be kidnapin' royalty. Is she really? This could mean our heads."

The young one might have been handsome if he smelt better and had more than half of his teeth. And there were bugs visibly crawling around in his tangled brown hair! Her head became itchy at the sight of it and she could not scratch it. Between her motion sickness and those scuttling parasites she felt terribly sick.

"Shut your face, Aubrey! She's not really royalty, she's just the king's bride.–Isn't that right, girl?–She's a pretty thing isn't she though? The king's got good taste."

Bailey reached over and brushed her cheek. She turned away in revulsion. She was afraid to even wonder what they had in store for her. They were ogling her and she hated it. Then she noticed her gown had ridden up to her knees, giving them a nice view. With her bound hands she did the best she could to pull the gown back down to her ankles.

"Now, princess," warned Bailey. "There's no point in trying to yell for help the only one's here to hear you is us. The coachman is a deaf mute so he isn't gonna be any help to you."

She would not allow them the pleasure of seeing her fearful. So she kept on her superior-looking, brave face. For the duration of the journey she listened very carefully to what the men were saying. They were very talkative kidnappers, ergo stupid ones at that. They were taking her to Aubrey's home. He had a wife waiting for him and supposedly he was going to give to her the fine gown Elora now wore. If that woman had her gown what would she be left wearing?

She had to wonder about what had happened. They did seem confused to see her when they pulled open the door. Since she was in Louis' carriage she was guessing they had planned to capture or kill Louis and Philippe. She was glad, in a way, they found her instead. She would rather be kidnapped than have Louis and Philippe dead.

She could not fathom who was responsible for doing this because these cretins surely were not intelligent enough to plan out something this effective. Somebody must have paid them off for such an attack. Could it be someone she knew? Or it could be some anarchist wanting to make a statement. It could be a group of men, like the ones who murdered Julius Caesar. It was possible these cretins sitting across from her were in on that attempted assassination at Versailles last week.

They traveled for many hours, but Elora could not close her eyes, no matter sleep. When they finally got to their destination it was well past sundown. She was discretely carried over Aubrey's shoulder into a small house and cruelly dropped on the planked floor. Yes it hurt terribly, perhaps even injuring her shoulder again.

She saw a young woman at the fireplace tending to the hearth. When Elora's body thumped against the hard floor the woman turned and noticed their presence. After quickly assessing the scene she walked up to Aubrey and slapped his face, hard.

"Where were you this whole time? Five weeks you have not been home, leaving me to fend alone with a baby comin'! I had to sell some of Father's possessions to pay the rack-rent and the church taxes. Are you drunk again? Who is this poor girl and why is she tied up on my floor! What is Bailey doing here? I thought you told me you weren't gonna consort with him no more," the woman said angrily, as she untied Elora's bonds.

Aubrey looked at his wife, almost afraid to speak. "Jolie, I'm sober, not a drop of liquor on me. Me dear wife, I was just out making money. This girl's me bonus, she is the king's betrothed. We will make good money off her. Just for today we got five hundred francs and there's gonna be a lot more money comin' now that we have her and Bailey's me partner."

Elora felt so vulnerable on the floor, not to mention fearing what rodent might crawl by at any moment, judging by the condition of the house. It really looked as if it should be condemned. The gray wood walls and floor were falling apart. The two windows had no glass, instead they were covered with some sort of thin animal skins and closed off with shudders on hinges.

With her limbs still bound, her attempt to stand herself up was a struggle. She rolled and wiggled her way from sitting on her backside to kneeling. She rocked back and forth on her knees a couple of times, managing to balance her weight onto her toes then onto her feet. Now able to stand upright, she found that all three had stopped their conversation to stare at her.

"How'd she manage that?" asked Aubrey.

If she did not have a gag still stuffed in her mouth she would have said, "I have good dexterity is all".

"Unnatural is what it is!" added Bailey.

It seemed like just then Bailey spotted the ruby necklace she wore. He stalked towards her, with a menacing smile and a greedy gleam in his eyes. In one quick move he ripped the necklace off her neck. Her scream was quite muffled, but tears still came to her eyes. The yank practically gave her whiplash and the chain definitely scratched the back of her neck. At least he had not seen her engagement ring and he would never get it as long as she was still alive.

Jolie looked viciously upon her husband. "You're mad! How did you get mixed up in such an insane scheme? You will hang for this or perhaps worse.–My lady, I am so sorry for my husband's doings. Let me help you up, if you will permit me, my lady. Come with me and you can get some rest."

After Jolie freed her of those blistering ropes, Elora felt her shoulder and moved her arm around a bit. It was not dislocated again, but it was as sore as if it had been. Indeed the back of her neck was bleeding a little, but not so much it needed dressing. Elora untied the gag and pulled the cloth out of her mouth, never more relieved to have the power of speech back in her life.

Jolie helped her to the other room and locked the door behind them. Elora quickly assessed the room. It was maybe eight feet squared. There was no door to the outside, fireplace, or even a single window. It was a box, no, more like a panic room with only one way out and bad guys on the other side. The bed was up against the wall and seemed only a little bigger than a twin. The way Jolie spoke it sounded as if she would be sharing it with her too.

"Now my dear girl, who exactly are you and what did my husband do to you?" Jolie asked kindly, but the word husband came out in a despised tone.

She was so relieved the woman was on her side. Elora explained who she was and what had happened today. "I'm sure they were intending to kill the king and prince," she added.

"Your Highness, I am so awfully sorry with what has happened." Jolie curtsied, going down on her knees, which must have been hard because she was so far long. Elora quickly went down to the ground and lifted her up.

"I am not queen yet."

Jolie smiled. "You are the nearest to a queen we've had in a great while. With red silk this fine," she touched Elora's sleeve, "I should have known you to be royalty."

"Can you help me escape? I promise you will be greatly rewarded by the king. Please help me I'm so afraid those men are going to kill me."

Jolie sat down on the bed and rubbed her stomach. "They shall do nothing of the kind. I don't know much I can do about getting you out. I am only a woman.–Sleep now and we will sort this once you are rested up."

Elora slept perhaps a couple of hours on and off. She was by no means rejuvenated. The bed had been lumpy and not soft at all, more crunchy than anything. The thin mattress, if that is what one would call what she slept on, seemed stuffed with straw. Even the pillow felt as if it were filled with packing material. Every time she moved her weight in the bed she heard a distinct crumpling under her.

Jolie was not a bothersome bedmate, though there was no space between them on the small bed. The men in the next room were noisy halfway through the night and the other half of the night snored so loudly they might as well have been right next to her in bed. The room was freezing, having no fireplace, only a hot brick Jolie had placed under the mattress. That was a fire hazard waiting to happen.

Jolie insisted it would be best if she remained in that small, dimly lit room versus going out into the main room with the men present. Though Elora was not thrilled with the idea, she agreed. The less she saw of her kidnappers the better.

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Louis and Philippe were arriving at Versailles in the early afternoon. Paris had been a frustrating affair. No one could agree to anything and so no decision was made about Spain's defiance once again with their treaty. Spain was a thorn in his side and knew someday there would be no room left for arguing with diplomats. There would be war and lives lost. Hopefully this would not happen for some time. If only Elora was better versed in her French history he would know such things as Spain's plans. Sometimes he wondered whether she did indeed know more than she would ever admit to.

She had, by slip of the tongue, told him of his family's eventual downfall, but would let him know of nothing more since. That conversation so long ago in his gardens had become an unclear memory. For something so important he could not understand why he could not remember her sentences word for word. Indeed he could not remember a name or time such destruction would happen to France. Perhaps some other-worldly force was behind such unforeseen forgetfulness.

He could not wait to see Elora and take his afternoon meal with her. He so wanted her to clean and redress his wound. He far preferred her gentle touch to the haughty and sometimes nervous physicians he retained. He believed her remedy was more effective in any case; he could sense the ointment she rubbed in the wound healing it well and the soreness was beginning to dull.

When they passed through Versailles' golden gates he could see Colbert in the distance pacing quickly in the courtyard, waiting for the carriage's arrival. It was raining heavily and quite dreary, but Colbert wore no hat on his head, nothing to protect him from the elements. And where were the courtiers who should be waiting to welcome his return? Something was amiss.

As the horses came to a halt Louis stepped from the carriage. Colbert's approach was rushed as he proceeded to kneel directly at Louis' feet. Philippe had not even had a moment to exit the carriage.

From Colbert's tight-jawed expression Louis felt a chill coarse through his body. He had enough surprises this week to last him a lifetime. "Be quick about it," ordered Louis.

"Your Majesty, I have just been informed only minutes ago that the Comtesse de Valréas has gone missing. Her carriage was attacked before reaching Rambouillet yesterday. Three were killed and found with the carriage off the main road. The comtesse was not to be found. I believe this was a premeditated attack and she has been abducted."

"Abducted!" cried Philippe, finally stepping out of the carriage.

Louis grabbed Colbert by the shoulders. "What madness is this? It is impossible! She cannot have been stolen. I had two of my best guards with her. She must have escaped the bandits!"

"If," Colbert spoke simply and slowly. "If she was taken by force, my king, then this is possible. They knew just where to position themselves; a secluded area, far from town and the eyes of witnesses. Her absence is a fine indication, we might still get her back."

"Might? Might! You are mistaken. You must be mistaken! Perhaps she escaped to the nearest village. Has the area been swept for her presence?"

"The search has just begun. I only received news of this at half past eleven. We could not track the attackers; the rain has already washed everything away."

"We must find her, Colbert, and it must be soon."

He cursed himself. He should have protected her better. He had been a fool. She was the most precious thing in the world to him yet he could not spare more than two men to guard her. He had two men guarding the royal china cabinet and he did not care a whit for those plates. Could he not have taken at least twice the consideration for the woman he loved? What a fool he was!

He should have taken her with him to Paris. She had wanted to go with him so desperately; he saw it in her eyes. Yet she yielded to him when he said it would be better she go straight home to Versailles for her health. It even would have been better if he had insisted she remain in Chartres another day. Anything but send her on to Versailles, alone, unable to protect herself.

What kind of man had taken his betrothed? She was so innocent to the outside world because of him. He did nothing to prepare her; now she was out there against her will and powerless.

Louis very quickly became exceedingly overwhelmed. He could hardly breathe, no matter think and the rain had already soaked through all his clothes. He sent out every man who could be spared under his service. He would have them search every dwelling in France if necessary.

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A couple of days passed, with Elora consistently plagued with the unsettling anxiety that at any moment Bailey and Aubrey would crash through the door and kill her. She could only keep track of the time by Jolie's precise entrance into the bedroom with meals and at bedtime. Never again was a word spoken between them of her release or what would happen to her. Jolie did help her sew her engagement ring into her chemise, so whatever happened no one would take it. Bailey had already sold off the necklace he stole from her.

There were only two meals of the day and they were small portions of pottage, an oatmeal like substance with vegetables added in, mostly onions; making it into a sort of stew. Meat of even the poorest quality could not be afforded, Jolie told her. There was freshly baked bread, which was what Elora filled up on throughout the day. Such meager meals were torture, after having fancy foods at Versailles for so long. Though she was hungry, swallowing every spoonful of that pottage was a struggle.

On the third morning Elora woke, alone in the bedroom. She heard the three of them arguing in the other room. She wrapped a blanket about her shoulders and hurried to the door to listen.

"Aubrey, you cannot keep her here. The king's guards are everywhere, scattering the countryside, looking for that girl. If you get caught and chances are great that you will, the king will surely have you put to death! Is the reward so great you would die for it, leaving me and the baby?"

"Jolie, you've said this all before. I've been workin' on it all this time and I've settled she will be gone today."

"What do you mean?" Jolie questioned. "What do you mean to do with her?"

"For a price I'll hand her over to the infidel who's been payin' us. It will be more money in it for us, I know," Aubrey insisted.

"You did not even perform the task you were paid in part to complete, thank heavens. Why should you expect more from him? How you know he even wants her? Captives were not in the agreement, I'm certain."

"Not so much, but that lass is gonna be the queen. She's practically part of the royal family. The king's property is valuable and I'm sure the infidel will find something to do with her."

"Father once told me infidels have demons within them. Are you a true Christian or simply a hypocrite? Do you not have any morals man?" she roared.

Elora was becoming more and more frightened the more she heard. The idea of being here for any length of time was terrifying and being pawned off to yet another conspirator was enough to make her break into tears. She heard the word infidel, another archaic word. She was not sure if it meant he was godless or just not Christian, either way was not a good sign. He was corrupt, whatever his creed or religion, so he was dangerous.

"She'll fair all right, Madame," Bailey barked. "She won't be our problem anymore, so who cares."

"I care!"

"Look at it this way," added Aubrey, trying to comfort his wife. "She is an over-bred princess that's likely barren. So we are doing France a favor. In time the king will marry another and have a brood of prince's for France and no one will remember or care about the Comtesse de Valréas. Now be a good wife and fetch the princess."

Elora backed away from the door, frozen with fear. She was trembling, unable to differentiate whether it was from the coldness of the morning or the intense terror that consumed her thoughts. Should she try to escape now? This may be her only chance. In the home of this infidel she may never have the chance. Elora heard a knock at the bedroom door, before she even had time to gather her thoughts and form a plan. She could not believe this was happening to her.

Jolie entered the room and took her hand. "My lady, I cannot stop them. You must go with them. You must be strong and do not give up hope. I will keep you in my prayers."

She was again bound and gagged. At least now her arm was feeling better and the ropes did not feel as tight. She wished Louis would hurry up and find a way to rescue her. Didn't these two idiots leave tracks for Louis to follow? Could not his hounds smell out where they had gone?

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After a full day's ride in a windowless carriage they arrived at the infidel's home. She had no way of knowing where she was or even what direction they had come. Bailey exited the carriage, leaving her alone to be watched by Aubrey. Time passed slowly. Aubrey had nothing to say to her and barely looked in her direction. She wondered if he was beginning to have a guilty conscience about kidnapping her.

Returning without a word, Bailey nodded to Aubrey and she was pushed out of the carriage toward an immense villa. She did not think an infidel in France would have such upper-class accommodations. They were not as secretive about transferring her from the coach to the house as they had been before. From this she could only deduce that they had stopped in Hicksville, France. The villa seemed completely surrounded by nature; far off any main road and there was not another residence in sight. The sun had begun setting behind the trees, leaving behind a vivid orange and pink sky. Not a sound but the gusting wind and chirping birds could she hear; no carriages or wagons or men at work.

She was forced to frogmarch with a rusted dagger held to her back as they entered the house. Sometime while being kidnapped she lost her shoes and had none since. So now she treaded, practically barefoot, in torn silk stockings; the stone gravel stabbing into her feet with every step.

The white stone walls surrounding the property were at least twelve feet high. The infidel must have been filthy rich because the chateau was quite large. From her angle of vision the house appeared to be a two-story, L-shaped chateau. The exterior was covered in some sort of ivy, so all that was really visible were the arch-windows and gray roof. It seemed an appealing place considering it would be her prison, her hell.

The interior of the villa completely contradicted the exterior Baroque architecture. From the décor Elora could barely believe she was still in France. She felt like she just stepped into one of the tales from The Arabian Nights.

Once passing through an arcaded entrance they stood in a great, open room, totally devoid of furnishings. The golden mosaic ceiling in the great hall was as great as the Sistine Chapel, but in Persian or Indian influence. The arabesque carved stucco décor was truly breathtaking. The flared staircase stood at the far end of the hall. The second level hallways were open and going around both the left and right sides of the grand hall.

She was certain she was going to see her new captor as soon as she walked in, but there only stood an old, black, servant woman with serious eyes. This was the first time she had seen someone of African descent in this time. She wore a bright red button-down shirt and matching genie-like pants. She even had the cute curled-toed shoes.

Aubrey untied the ropes that bound her hands, as the servant woman, who must have been the housekeeper, looked her up and down, seeming unimpressed, but mostly annoyed. She did not look nearly as friendly as Jolie. Her deep voice was in French, but with a very strong accent from who knew where. She told the men to join her master in the second room on the left and proceeded to motion for Elora to follow her. The idea of following a strange woman compliantly through a strange house was not her first choice. She had hoped to run out the way she came in, but telling by her peripheral vision Bailey was completely blocking the way. Elora untied and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

Her first instinct was to scream, but it probably would not do any good. She was almost certain there was not anyone around to hear her. All it would probably do would be to annoy her captors and did she did not really want to be doing that.

Beginning to follow the woman, she looked back toward the entranceway one more time, but the idiots were still blocking her way. Perhaps one of them she could barrel through, but not them both. She looked at Bailey and Aubrey for what she hoped was the last time. She was not sure if she should be glad even the slightest at that moment, for her fate might prove worse in the hands of a richer man with more resources.

She obediently followed the housekeeper, really having no other choice. She did her best to learn the route and observe for any means of escape. Though nothing helpful jumped out at her she would hope that maybe an opening would appear for her soon, perhaps being able to slip out a window or door.

As they walked down the winding halls on the first level, she planned what to say to the infidel if and when she got a chance at him. She imagined him a callous man with a turban, gray beard, and evil eyes. She hoped he would be civil and take pity upon the situation she found herself in. More likely he would be unkind and try to take advantage of her helpless situation.

"Where are you taking me? Do you know what is going to happen to me now?" Elora questioned the housekeeper, but only silence ensued.

The woman did not even glance back, as if she did not hear her or did not care to. So Elora kept on swiftly walking after her. The woman stopped suddenly at what appeared to be a dead end and turned to her. Elora could not help a startled flinch. Her glare was so foreboding. Did the woman have not other expression, but a scowl?

"You will call me Madame Sakeena. You will now be bathed and dressed in fresh attire."

"Wait!" Elora grabbed the woman's arm loosely. "What do you mean? I'm a captive, your prisoner, right?"

"Of the master, I suppose."

"Then why care to clean me up?"

"Have a filthy thing like you in this house? I think not."

"Ah." Elora nodded, but still did not fully understand.

"Our ways are not your ways, so prepare yourself. "

Elora had hardly noticed Madame's monotone warning because she was so grateful to hear she would be taking a bath. She had not had one for several days and believed she was starting to smell that way too. The wall moved like a sliding door at Madame Sakeena's slightest touch. They passed around a wooden screened room separator that was completely hand-carved into detailed geometric designs of lattice-work and entered into a large bathing room. It looked like one big mosaic, from ceiling to floor were glazed tiles in foreign designs and images of a tropical oasis.

The room was filled with chattering, naked girls. At first glance they seemed naked, but they were actually wearing completely transparent, gauze robes. Though in vivid, colorful shades, the robes concealed nothing.

"No way! Not a chance!" She drew to a halt immediately and turned to get the heck out of there. Unfortunately there was a seven-foot tall man directly behind her blocking her way to exit. If the word, "whoa" did not burst from her mouth, she was sure thinking it. He looked like he should either be a bouncer or a football player.

There was an instant uproar from the girls as they noticed her presence. A group of them, maybe eight, crowded around her. She put her hand over her eyes and looked toward the floor, too embarrassed to look at the nude girls. Normally she was not so shy, but this was no girl's locker-room uniform change. They were speaking a foreign language, not even close to French or English. They touched and pulled at her gown. She had to admit she looked a little disheveled, but not so much that she expected this sort of attention.

Madame Sakeena clapped her hands, yelled something in a foreign tongue, and all the girls scattered. She was slightly apologetic and explained those girls were not used to seeing outsiders, especially those with such fair features and European attire.

In entering this Middle-Eastern house it was like going on one of those foreign country rides at a theme park. Between the décor, the attire, and now this huge bathing room with tons of girls she now began to understand her situation. Hesitating to ask, but desperate to confirm her suspicions Elora asked Madame Sakeena if this was a harem.

She responded, "But of course." She called it a seraglio. All those girls who were crowded around her were the master's concubines.

There were many servants in the room, all of African decent. The women wore gauze veils, buttoned shirts, and harem pants. There were even three servant men in the room. What they were doing in a ladies bathing room baffled her. The men wore long tunics and headdresses.

"The master's wives will receive you on another day of their choosing."

Did she have to say it? "Wives! You mean more than one?"

"Yes. The Lady Muna and the Lady Rasha. They come into that baths at a different time."

"Lord, two wives! I'm going to have a lot of things to say to this master of yours."

"He is now your master too."

"I don't think so!" She hissed and crossed her arms. "No human being will ever own me!"

"We will not argue this now," Sakeena finished, waving her hand in one swift motion.

Two servant women proceeded to scrub her hair in a basin with some odorous soap. They said it was to rid her head of any bugs she might have obtained. She was nearly insulted, but remembered the conditions she had been living in the past few days and understood their reasoning. After rinsing, they cleansed her hair with a cherry-scented oil. She took the towel they offered and scrubbed her head until it was barely damp.

When Madame Sakeena began undressing her, Elora pushed her away nearly knocking the woman off her feet and into the pool.

"Madame! I do not get naked or bathe in pubic!"

"You will do as I say, girl," Madame Sakeena asserted. Elora's heart was pounding like a drum from her humiliation and frustration, as the woman unlaced her gown and slid it off her. For goodness sake, there were men present. "I heard Christian's never disrobe to bathe, but you now will."

"Actually," Elora interrupted. "I do bathe in the nude, Madame, but never with another soul in the same room…and that is how it shall remain."

Before Madame could pull off her chemise Elora swiftly jumped into the bath, performing a sort of cannonball effect, splashing all around, including Madame Sakeena. Elora could not help but laugh as the water dripped off the dampened woman. Madame Sakeena knelt down beside the bath to grab hold of her, but Elora speedily swam to the opposite end of the pool using a steady breaststroke. No way were they getting that chemise off her. The bathing pool appeared to be at least five feet deep, which was comfortable to swim around in.

"Madame, don't you know who I am!" Elora screamed. She never thought she would have to say such a thing and pull the nobility card. Elora gave her name and title to impress and hopefully intimidate Madame Sakeena. She seemed the only one with power here, other than the master. After giving her name, she stressed the words betrothed to the King of France and practically queen.

She could tell Madame Sakeena had been affected by her introduction, but not quite in the way she had hoped. Elora had expected her to be a little intimidated or in awe, but instead she seemed confused and surprised.

Elora took this moment that Madame was off her guard to ask about the master of the house. Lord Mendak was his name and that was all she would divulge about him. Elora suspected that was not even his real name.

"And when will I be meeting this Lord Mendak?"

"You shall not, for the time being. He is a man heavily occupied and you are not his chief concern. It may take you a while to fully adjust to your new life here. Once you understand our lifestyle here you may be allowed in his presence. I must first be certain of your obedience and appropriate conduct. From the brazen, defiant behavior you graced us with today, you would insult him immensely. I cannot have that. You will come to revere and honor him, then he may receive you."

Elora was sure to hide her relief. Sakeena meant to put her down, but her condescension had the reverse effect. At least she would not have to worry about having to stand Lord Mendak's company any time soon. She would hopefully be rescued or have successfully escaped before ever being forced to see his wrinkled face. In addition, it meant they intended her to have a long stay here.

He was obviously a rich man by the looks of his house and the number of servants. She knew by now that the only rich people in the seventeenth century were nobles, though sometimes even they were short of funds. Some merchants were wealthy, but not like this. He had to have some great title, which meant Louis must know him; for Louis knew everyone of title and consequence.

No doubt, this man was from a barbaric, middle-eastern country. She wished she had studied more about the geography of countries in this time. Was he actually the one behind all of this? She had never expected to come in contact with a polygamist in her entire life. After all she had achieved adjusting herself to this time, it was still so strange to her; there was so much she did not know.

Then Sakeena called her out of the bath. She stepped out of the pool and instantly a servant wrapped a towel around her. Where had her dress gone to? It was again made clear to her she was not to wear French attire anymore. Elora was not about to argue, only insisted the dress be returned to her, though it would not be worn.

She followed the woman into an adjoining room. As she walked past servant and concubine alike she held tightly to the towel wrapped about her. Sakeena fetched some clothes her size from a chest of draws. A servant woman was about to assist her in drying off, but Elora stopped her.

"Madame Sakeena, may I please be given a moment of privacy to dress myself."

With reluctance the woman agreed and left her alone in the room. Elora changed as quickly as she could, just in case Madame did not prove true to her word and walked in. She stepped into royal blue silk pantaloons with a layer of silver gauze over it making a loose skirt. The waist and ankle bands of the pantaloons were in wide strips of cloth of silver, embroidered with blue thread. The waist was just low enough to compliment her curvy torso. The long sleeved shirt, she heard Madame call a kameez, was blue silk embroidered with seed pearls. The narrow v-neckline was deep, but still modest. Even the length of the shirt was pleasant, reaching mid-thigh. She was even given adorable matching slippers with curled toes.

She went to the carved doorway and announced she was dressed. She liked her outfit. It was comfortable and more like the clothes she used to wear back in the 21st century. Next her hair was combed by a servant and made into one loose braid. Running through the braid was a silver ribbon lined with seed pearls. The make-up they added to her face made her look like a gaudy Egyptian.

Sakeena led her up the main hallway of the women's quarters, up the wide staircase, then right to her room. Her bedroom was large with all the amenities of Versailles Chateau. The Arabian wood tables, chairs, desk and chaise were all inlayed with mother-of-pearl and rare woods. Her bed was a day bed and considerably smaller than what she was used to. Instead of a curtained-canopy a long piece of sheer, silvery-red gauze suspended from the ceiling like a chandelier over the bed to envelop the contents there of. There were shaded oil lamps on the walls, giving source to a substantial amount of light. In the fireplace the pile of logs were blazing.

Under Lord Mendak's orders Sakeena was to lock her up in this room. She was to be allowed out daily only to go to the baths in the seraglio. "I will send in Hassan to serve you. He is the best I have who speaks the French language."

"He? No, I don't want a man servant!" Elora was horrified. What kind of people were they? First bathing in a pool full of naked, harem girls, now was she to have a male maid?

"Hassan is not a man. He is a eunuch. All of the master's concubines are served by eunuchs. You should be honored by his consideration."

"Thank you, but I must refuse. No male will ever serve me in such a capacity. If I cannot have a woman I prefer to serve myself."

"The master will be displeased with such an attitude. Hassan is the only one I can send you, whether you care to have him or not."

"Madame," Elora was about to argue, but realized she was in no position to irritate the woman further. She huffed, flopping down on the bed. "Send him then."

She was left alone in her bedroom with nothing to do. Her first action was to search the room for the best means of escape. The door would be locked, but would they know well enough to lock the window. True she was on the second floor, however to get away from this Turkish horror she would be willing to make a jump for it.

She assessed at the window to find it did not open. It was made up of five narrow vertical panes. Even if she broke the glass without being heard, she would not be able to squeeze through. What she saw below was not encouraging, a stone-laid courtyard. If she leapt down to that she would break her legs for certain. There were no nearby trees or bushes to jump into. Even the side of the house had no ledge to walk across or drainpipe to climb down.

Elora concluded, for now at least, escape from her room was impossible. Prisoner in a harem, now she wished she were back in that parasite infested hovel with the idiots. She knelt by the window, looking up to the overcast sky and prayed. She reminded herself that everything that happened was for a reason and sometimes only God was to know what such a reason was. She could not help but turn again to the idea that perhaps this was God trying to keep she and Louis apart. Only days ago she had been so certain God wanted her with Louis, but now she was not so certain. Every time they were decided to be with each other something or someone always came between them. Why could God not just send her home if this were so? She did not know what to think. She was more alone now than ever before in her life. No friend around for council, now barely a soul she could even communicate with.

She was certain her life was in great danger. Her kidnapper had plans for her she did not know. What was ahead? Death, probably not in the near future, but torture, rape, starvation, life imprisonment could be approaching. She could only pray for courage and the hope that things would get better. She wanted to live and she especially wanted to see Louis' face again.

She had been weeping profusely for some time now. She went to the washbasin and rinsed her face clean. All of the make-up they had so carefully applied was now gone. Exhaustion was starting to hit her, overpowering her ravenous stomach. She did not even know exactly what time of day it was. She lied on the pink and gold upholstered chaise, just intending to rest her eyes.

She must have dozed off, for she woke when she heard the door opening. Perhaps it was someone with food, but she did not smell any food. The steps were heavy ones, definitely steps of a man. Hassan, the manservant, was going to prove a problem. How much would he be expecting to assist her with? She could not imagine sharing such intimacies with him as she did with Suzanne.

She kept wishing she were back in Versailles or even in her home in the future, anywhere but there. Perhaps if he thought she were asleep he would not bother her and go away. She silently prayed he would turn and walk out of the room in the approaching seconds, but he did not. The seconds turned into minutes. It seemed he might just stand there at attention until she woke, waiting for her orders.

She could hear his soft breathing; he was standing right beside the chaise where she still laid. He said ever so softly, "Oh Allah."

Still she did not open her eyes, but she could not stop her lips from correcting him. "No, Elora Roux."

She shot open her eyes to look upon a handsome, young man. He stared at her as if she were a surprise to him, not her presence, but more so her looks. It was almost as if it were a sparkle of recognition, but they certainly had never met. Before today she had not seen one person of different race in France, so there was no way they could know one another.

He was plainly clothed in a white tunic and baggy white pants, as she would expect of a servant. He was very handsome, with his dark, olive skin and his straight, black hair. Being the colour of gray with the slightest hint of amethyst, his eyes were mesmerizing. Elora had never before seen eyes such as his, at least not without colored contacts. Those jeweled eyes almost made her weak in the knees.

She regained her wits and reminded herself that she did not yet know who exactly this guy was. When going from lying down to standing up in one quick move, her head spun a bit.

"You must be Hassan?"

He tapped his finger against his lip and nodded the affirmative.

"Madame Sakeena informed me you would be coming. What exactly are your orders, what I mean to ask is, to what capacity will you be with me? Will you be like a chamber maid or just my jail-keeper?"

"A little of both perhaps." His voice was deep and strong, but mostly kind.

"Ah, well I will tell you now, I know you are a eunuch and are used to being around women, but there are certain things which I demand complete privacy for. I bathe alone, use the chamber-pot alone, and dress behind screens. I do not like to be babied. I want to preserve whatever independence I have left."

Being a faithful servant he replied not of his own view, "I fear this will displease the master."

"You know," she crossed her arms, "I really don't care about that sordid, old polygamist's feelings."

She saw a flash of defiance cross his face, but a moment later it was gone. Perhaps she had gone too far. Instead of speaking to defend his master he asked, "I am surprised to see you wearing such attire. I quite expected a trembling French woman in yards of fluffed cloth."

"My gown was taken from me; supposedly to be returned when clean. I am quite content with these clothes though. They are very comfortable and remind me of…" She knew to finish that sentence would be trouble.

"Of what?"

"Well, let's just say there was a time when I used to wear clothes similar to this."

"Indeed?"

"Yes."

She shivered, wishing she had a sweater or something. Night had fallen some time ago and any warmth there was in the day had disappeared with the sun. She looked at the fireplace; it needed stoking. She moved to complete such a task, but there was no fire iron. "Hassan, how am I supposed to stoke the fire?"

"The master had such things removed for your safety."

"You mean for his safety." She was reminded of her first day in this time. She had been ready to run Louis through with the fire iron she was so scared. "Hassan, will you –"

He was already walking out of the room to go fetch one before she could finish asking. She sat close by the fireplace to keep warm until Hassan returned carrying three logs and what was that she saw under his arm, a fire iron. She took a log from his arms giving him an easier time in piling the others into the fireplace. She went to hand him the log, but with the weight on her left arm, suddenly she had a tearing pain at the back of her shoulder and nearly dropped the log. He caught it from her, as if he was expecting such a fumble.

She commended his quick reflexes and apologized, explaining her recent injury and how being kidnapped and bound for so long had not helped.

"If you do not require my service I will excuse myself."

A moment later Hassan was gone and she was sorry he did not remain a little longer. Considering French was a second language to him he was quite a conversationalist. His presence was not wholly unpleasant. She felt like he would be tolerable enough company for her in this hell. She hoped he might return tomorrow.

Only minutes after Hassan left another servant, a middle-aged woman, entered with a metal tray of food. She took a moment to thank God for the food. She had totally forgotten to ask Hassan about it, but was relieved someone thought about feeding her. She clearly did not speak French and barely made eye contact with her. Elora was glad for the food because she had not had a meal since morning and what she had eaten at Jolie's house the past few days was not substantial.

Tonight she had on her tray an unknown variety of long-grain rice with a strange, but tasty spice. It was topped with chunks of tender lamb. On the side was a pile of flatbread, more than she could eat in a whole day. No silverware was given, so she ate most ungracefully with her hands and attempting to use the bread as a utensil.

Later Hassan returned with more wood to hopefully last her the night. She was so grateful to see him again and was quick to tell him she wanted him to continue coming to help her. After preparing the fire for her, he seemed anxious to leave, but stopped when he saw her getting ready to go to bed.

"Madame Sakeena did not arrange sleeping attire for you?"

Elora shook her head. She had assumed this outfit was the only thing she would be given to wear for a while.

"All right then," he huffed.

Hassan left the room and returned after only a few minutes. He carried in his arms a small pile of clothing. Elora thanked him as he passed her a black shirt and pants. She told him goodnight, but still he remained in the room. She stared at him with raised brow, motioning for him to make his way to the door.

Only then he spoke. "I also have with me some balm for your injury." In his hand she suddenly saw a small glass jar.

That was so thoughtful of him. She never imagined such a consideration from the servant of her captor. "This is a nice surprise. The ache is awful, so balm sounds perfect right now.–Umm…but I don't think I can reach that far back at my shoulder. Do you think you can help me a bit?"

"I expected as much."

He had already opened the jar, so she hurried behind the floor screen to change for bed. Before coming from behind the screen, Elora pressed her pajama top to her front, covering her chest fully. She would put it on afterwards.

As she walked over to Hassan, his stare was strange, not quite unsettling to her, but curious. She turned her back to him and he started rubbing the balm all around her posterior shoulder.

"Why do you blush?" he asked her.

She could not be more embarrassed at that moment. She hated it when color rose to her cheeks without her consent, especially when others took notice of it. She looked over her shoulder at him for a moment, but his penetrating eyes were too much for her, she had to look away. "It is just, I am not used to…I know you are a eunuch, but it is still weird having a guy in here."

He let out a chuckle. "I wish I could somehow put you at ease."

"How long have you been this way, a eunuch I mean?"

"Boys are chosen at a young age, between three and five years old."

"And because of this you do not have any desires of the flesh? You must feel so at peace."

"Most nights."

"I am sorry such a thing was done to you against your will when you were so young, with no one to protect you."

"Such a thing was not a consequence of your actions. I do not need your pity."

She did not know how to answer that, so she dropped the subject. She had Hassan face the wall whilst she put her shirt on. "You know Madame Sakeena says I am to go to the seraglio baths in the morning."

"Yes. It is what women of our culture do."

Elora now touched his arm and slowly began walking with him to the door. "I couldn't be more thrilled to be cleaning up in such a grand way every day, but what I want to know…is it possible for me to get in early before there is anyone around?

"The ladies do not stir until late in the morning and the slaves are only in there as short time before then to prepare the room."

"So what time is safe to go in?"

"What sort of mischief are you going to get into? Why must you be alone?"

"It's not what you think. I just like my privacy." He looked as if he was really thinking over her request, so she added, "I will try to learn your ways, but I am not ready to surrender such a privacy yet."

"I will have the door unlocked for you at seven then."

She had barely said the words, thank you, when Hassan's forehead crinkled and he straightened up. It was as if he suddenly remembered something urgent he had to do, but would not tell her so. He left the room in haste, but not forgetting to lock the door behind him. She wished he had forgotten. That would have been a convenient escape.

She lied down on the bed and her first thought was that it was significantly more comfortable that Jolie's bed. Elora figured since she had to be kidnapped it was nice that she now had pleasant accommodations.

Dear Readers,

Thanks for continuing to read my story. I have been working on this chapter for some months now, making alteration after alteration, but I am finally satisfied with it. I hope you really enjoy it. Chapter 30 should be posted in a few weeks.

~L.B. Tempia~