Chap 6
Sued and Waleed drove their small two wheeled cart with a vengeance away from the massacre at Giza and raced towards Fayum and the healers compound. Behind them lay the tarp covered body of a Medjai that Waleed tried to save. Instead, they now acted as bearers of the dead and brought the body to Il-Bint Bitaa'tibbi for the burial preparation.
They arrived outside the compound early in the afternoon and waited for the sentry posted to allow them admittance, then drove through the large wooden gates. Sued brought the cart into the main square and searched for the head master, Abdul-Nasir but instead, a young woman approached the cart and called out her greeting.
"Where is your mentor?" Sued asked as Waleed jumped down from the seat, then he followed.
"He was called to the Seventh and Second Tribes with two of my sister healers to help tend to the wounded. Honored helper, surely you know of Commanders Aliyy and Wajeeh?"
"Yes, of course." Sued sighed and walked over to the young woman. "And I bring more sad news."
He gently took her by the arm and escorted the healer to the back of the cart and where Waleed waited further instructions. Quickly he told her of the fight at Giza and the staggering loss of many warriors and two more commanders.
"Waleed thought to rescue one but we were too late," Sued motioned for the youth to pull off the tarp from the body. "We need you to prepare him for burial while we ride back to Cairo and find a way to alert his tribe."
"Of course," the woman agreed and signaled for the sentry Solman to help Waleed carry it inside the preparation room. Sued saw her glance at the warrior's pale face and he noted the look of sadness in her eyes. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in silent understanding. "This is a sad day for us all."
"Yes," she whispered.
Sued and Waleed climbed back into the cart's seat as he gathered the reins in his hands. "My thanks for your help. We will send a message to you from his tribe as soon as they're located."
Quickly both helpers left the compound.
~*~
Kasim and the remains of his regiment rode back to Jahm's camp with the utmost speed, their destination a two day ride from Cairo. For the most part, he had been successful in completing his assigned task; except how to explain to his chief the death of Commander Bay. Jahm had been explicit with his instructions on wanting the commanders alive and to further complicate matters, his men thought to compensate for that loss by kidnapping an English woman, who would be eventually sold on the slave market. He could only hope the successful simultaneous attack by Qutaybah's men would appease his leader's notorious and deadly temper.
Near dusk, he gave the command to stop, ordering the men to dismount and rest for the night. Judging by the distance covered, he estimated they would arrive in camp near late afternoon tomorrow. The captives were pulled from their horses and thrown together near the outer rim of the main fire, and some of the men started touching the English woman suggestively, making lewd remarks and gestures. Kasim watched with a mixture of boredom and amusement as the men continued their harassment. The woman was slapping at their hands in futile defense but his interest peaked when the Medjai came stumbling to her aid. Although his hands were tied, the warrior lowered his good shoulder and pushed the woman behind him, challenging the men to fight him instead.
The commander finally went down after several men converged on him, kicking and beating him senseless. Kasim called a stop to it and ordered the unconscious warrior to be taken near the edge of the camp, and staked like an animal, with no food or shelter from the approaching cold temperatures of the night. The woman was brought before him in his tent and made to kneel down in submission, while he leisurely ate his meal. From time to time, he would stare at her, appreciating the golden highlights of her hair and how her gaze traveled everywhere in the tent except to rest on him. She sat rigidly, with her hands folded in front of her and Kasim swore he heard her stomach growl with hunger, yet she refused to ask.
"Eat," he threw a piece of flatbread onto her lap.
"No thank you," she replied stiffly. "I find my appetite somewhat…lacking."
Kasim raised an eyebrow over her defiance but couldn't help chuckling. She would soon learn.
"Drink," he ordered and threw a small water pouch by her side.
The woman was about to utter another retort but Kasim stopped her with an angry wave of his hand.
"Tawa," Kasim snarled and amended the command when it looked like she didn't comprehend. "Obey."
"I beg your pardon, but I certainly will not," she cried in outrage. "This is a barbaric, uncivilized land and you, sir, are a heathen. I demand my release and to be taken back to Cairo and my husband."
Kasim jumped up, reached out and slapped her soundly across the face. The blow rocked her head back and she collapsed on her side. As she lay there dazed, Kasim grabbed her by the hair and jerked her face close to his, his eyes glittering with anger.
"You demand nothing, ma shi," he snarled. "I am your owner now, and you will obey me or I will beat you."
Her eyes widened in horror at the threat of further abuse and Kasim felt a strange twinge of regret over the tears that gathered in her eyes, but that refused to fall. Instead they glistened like tiny jewels on her long lashes as she lowered her eyes in submission.
"Do you obey?" Kasim asked gruffly.
"Yes," came the whispered reply.
He released her with a flick of his hand and returned to his cushions, calmly picking up his own water pouch and drinking deeply. Droplets of water spilled down his chest and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching the English woman slowly sit up and smooth out her rumpled clothing.
"Eat," Kasim commanded again and felt a perverse sense of power when she complied.
He nodded his head in satisfaction and began a new lesson for the night.
"You won't be released. My men want you sold on the slave market for your value." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, letting the silky strands fall through his fingers. "Yellow haired women are uncommon and demand a high price at the slave auctions."
He saw her swallow convulsively in fear, but she remained silent, watching him with a wary look in her eyes.
"Obey and please me and I may be convinced to not sell you. I will keep you for myself," Kasim softly decided.
"And it matters not what I think?" she couldn't help but ask.
Kasim laughed and stretched back on the cushions, pillowing his arms beneath his head.
"You have no say in the matter anymore. Forget your husband, your life, what you were, only remember what you are and will become…." Kasim suddenly leaned forward, his face coming closer to hers and she leaned back, afraid of the sudden closeness.
"And what will I become?"
Kasim smiled, before answering, "Mine."
~*~
After her meeting with Kasim, Olivia was brought outside and placed on the other side of camp, across from the warrior. She was dazed and bruised, her clothes dirty and torn and she struggled not to let a prevailing sense of panic rule any rational thought. The heathen actually thought he could keep her, overriding the fact that she was a loyal subject of Her Majesty, the Queen of England and that she was married. He seemed blissfully ignorant that slavery was outlawed and Olivia felt the farther away from Cairo they traveled, the less there was a chance of rescue. She knew Allan would already be talking to the authorities about her abduction but the panic that gripped her heart made her believe he would never find her out in the desert. She needed someone who knew the terrain and could help her escape. The more she reasoned it out in her mind, the more it made sense.
Olivia needed her protector.
During the night, she found herself peering through the darkness trying to see him, concerned with the way his body trembled. Around midnight, she crept off her sleeping mat and prayed continually as she snuck across the camp until she reached his side.
His hands were pulled out to the front and his whole body shook in small tremors, in reaction to blood loss and the recent beating. She felt her heart constrict with compassion for his suffering and reached out one tentative hand, gently touching him on the shoulder.
He jerked himself awake and rolled partially over until he was facing her and Olivia watched a flicker of surprise flare up in his eyes. Then his features schooled themselves back into his stoic mask of indifference, the only sign of his suffering was the grim set of his mouth.
Olivia ripped off a section from the hem of her dress and gently, she began cleaning his bruised face, noticing again the wonderful color of his eyes. She felt the heat rise in her face when she remembered his body pressed against hers earlier today. Never in her life had someone done such a selfless act as to protect her with their own body and thinking about it made Olivia feel slightly nervous, flustered. And it bothered her she never felt anything remotely like this when Allan held her in his arms.
"Where does it hurt?" she questioned and sighed with frustration when she didn't get a response.
"See, now this is one of life's little ironies. Would you like to know what that is?" Olivia asked as she cleaned the bloody corner of his mouth.
When the warrior said nothing, Olivia continued, undaunted by his silence, too nervous from being with him not to talk. "This is the irony. My father was a doctor, my grandfather and uncles were doctors; I come from a long lineage of physicians. When my parents found out I was a girl rather than a boy, they weren't disappointed. Instead my father still taught me some rudimentary skills at healing, taking care of wounds and that sort of thing. Not every genteel woman knows about medical procedures. " She sniffed.
Nabil blinked in confusion; female healers were quite common among the Medjai.
"And I find it ironic that the one time, I could actually help someone, they're too quiet to tell me where it really hurts." Olivia shifted her position and started to examine his bloody shoulder, gently pulling away the caked material of his robe from the skin.
"Silence woman, lest your chattering gets us both killed," Nabil hissed through clenched teeth as she roughly probed the wound.
"Ah, so he does speak," Olivia confirmed and dug into the injury a little further.
"Kkreff…la min fadlik," the warrior moaned and jerked away. "I need no further help."
"But it's your help that I need," Olivia pleaded and leaned back. "I want to escape and it has to be tonight. I am not going to be sold like…like some horse at an auction and I certainly don't want a new husband in that… that barbarian."
"No…too dangerous in the desert. We would not make it back to Cairo…die trying." His voice faltered, his eyes fluttering close and Olivia feared he was losing consciousness.
"Are you saying you won't help me?" she asked incredulously and gently touched his shoulder.
"Help will come…be patient," he sighed.
"From whom? And when? I don't have time to be patient."
"My people…" Nabil opened his eyes, strong conviction showing clearly in his gaze. "You must trust me."
Olivia wadded up the rag and pressed it against the warrior's shoulder, trying to stop the slow seepage of blood from the injury. He was asking too much of her and yet, the trust he now asked for had already been given. She felt safe with him.
"Thank you for saving my life today."
The warrior closed his eyes in pain and arrogantly nodded. "Go back to your sleeping mat, ya soghair and rest. Tomorrow's journey…will be hard."
"Of course." With a sigh, she left the cloth folded against his wound and slowly, crept back to the other side. Once settled, she found sleep evasive as she stared at the profile of the warrior and when she closed her eyes, it wasn't the face of Allan that haunted her subconscious.
Sued and Waleed drove their small two wheeled cart with a vengeance away from the massacre at Giza and raced towards Fayum and the healers compound. Behind them lay the tarp covered body of a Medjai that Waleed tried to save. Instead, they now acted as bearers of the dead and brought the body to Il-Bint Bitaa'tibbi for the burial preparation.
They arrived outside the compound early in the afternoon and waited for the sentry posted to allow them admittance, then drove through the large wooden gates. Sued brought the cart into the main square and searched for the head master, Abdul-Nasir but instead, a young woman approached the cart and called out her greeting.
"Where is your mentor?" Sued asked as Waleed jumped down from the seat, then he followed.
"He was called to the Seventh and Second Tribes with two of my sister healers to help tend to the wounded. Honored helper, surely you know of Commanders Aliyy and Wajeeh?"
"Yes, of course." Sued sighed and walked over to the young woman. "And I bring more sad news."
He gently took her by the arm and escorted the healer to the back of the cart and where Waleed waited further instructions. Quickly he told her of the fight at Giza and the staggering loss of many warriors and two more commanders.
"Waleed thought to rescue one but we were too late," Sued motioned for the youth to pull off the tarp from the body. "We need you to prepare him for burial while we ride back to Cairo and find a way to alert his tribe."
"Of course," the woman agreed and signaled for the sentry Solman to help Waleed carry it inside the preparation room. Sued saw her glance at the warrior's pale face and he noted the look of sadness in her eyes. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in silent understanding. "This is a sad day for us all."
"Yes," she whispered.
Sued and Waleed climbed back into the cart's seat as he gathered the reins in his hands. "My thanks for your help. We will send a message to you from his tribe as soon as they're located."
Quickly both helpers left the compound.
~*~
Kasim and the remains of his regiment rode back to Jahm's camp with the utmost speed, their destination a two day ride from Cairo. For the most part, he had been successful in completing his assigned task; except how to explain to his chief the death of Commander Bay. Jahm had been explicit with his instructions on wanting the commanders alive and to further complicate matters, his men thought to compensate for that loss by kidnapping an English woman, who would be eventually sold on the slave market. He could only hope the successful simultaneous attack by Qutaybah's men would appease his leader's notorious and deadly temper.
Near dusk, he gave the command to stop, ordering the men to dismount and rest for the night. Judging by the distance covered, he estimated they would arrive in camp near late afternoon tomorrow. The captives were pulled from their horses and thrown together near the outer rim of the main fire, and some of the men started touching the English woman suggestively, making lewd remarks and gestures. Kasim watched with a mixture of boredom and amusement as the men continued their harassment. The woman was slapping at their hands in futile defense but his interest peaked when the Medjai came stumbling to her aid. Although his hands were tied, the warrior lowered his good shoulder and pushed the woman behind him, challenging the men to fight him instead.
The commander finally went down after several men converged on him, kicking and beating him senseless. Kasim called a stop to it and ordered the unconscious warrior to be taken near the edge of the camp, and staked like an animal, with no food or shelter from the approaching cold temperatures of the night. The woman was brought before him in his tent and made to kneel down in submission, while he leisurely ate his meal. From time to time, he would stare at her, appreciating the golden highlights of her hair and how her gaze traveled everywhere in the tent except to rest on him. She sat rigidly, with her hands folded in front of her and Kasim swore he heard her stomach growl with hunger, yet she refused to ask.
"Eat," he threw a piece of flatbread onto her lap.
"No thank you," she replied stiffly. "I find my appetite somewhat…lacking."
Kasim raised an eyebrow over her defiance but couldn't help chuckling. She would soon learn.
"Drink," he ordered and threw a small water pouch by her side.
The woman was about to utter another retort but Kasim stopped her with an angry wave of his hand.
"Tawa," Kasim snarled and amended the command when it looked like she didn't comprehend. "Obey."
"I beg your pardon, but I certainly will not," she cried in outrage. "This is a barbaric, uncivilized land and you, sir, are a heathen. I demand my release and to be taken back to Cairo and my husband."
Kasim jumped up, reached out and slapped her soundly across the face. The blow rocked her head back and she collapsed on her side. As she lay there dazed, Kasim grabbed her by the hair and jerked her face close to his, his eyes glittering with anger.
"You demand nothing, ma shi," he snarled. "I am your owner now, and you will obey me or I will beat you."
Her eyes widened in horror at the threat of further abuse and Kasim felt a strange twinge of regret over the tears that gathered in her eyes, but that refused to fall. Instead they glistened like tiny jewels on her long lashes as she lowered her eyes in submission.
"Do you obey?" Kasim asked gruffly.
"Yes," came the whispered reply.
He released her with a flick of his hand and returned to his cushions, calmly picking up his own water pouch and drinking deeply. Droplets of water spilled down his chest and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching the English woman slowly sit up and smooth out her rumpled clothing.
"Eat," Kasim commanded again and felt a perverse sense of power when she complied.
He nodded his head in satisfaction and began a new lesson for the night.
"You won't be released. My men want you sold on the slave market for your value." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, letting the silky strands fall through his fingers. "Yellow haired women are uncommon and demand a high price at the slave auctions."
He saw her swallow convulsively in fear, but she remained silent, watching him with a wary look in her eyes.
"Obey and please me and I may be convinced to not sell you. I will keep you for myself," Kasim softly decided.
"And it matters not what I think?" she couldn't help but ask.
Kasim laughed and stretched back on the cushions, pillowing his arms beneath his head.
"You have no say in the matter anymore. Forget your husband, your life, what you were, only remember what you are and will become…." Kasim suddenly leaned forward, his face coming closer to hers and she leaned back, afraid of the sudden closeness.
"And what will I become?"
Kasim smiled, before answering, "Mine."
~*~
After her meeting with Kasim, Olivia was brought outside and placed on the other side of camp, across from the warrior. She was dazed and bruised, her clothes dirty and torn and she struggled not to let a prevailing sense of panic rule any rational thought. The heathen actually thought he could keep her, overriding the fact that she was a loyal subject of Her Majesty, the Queen of England and that she was married. He seemed blissfully ignorant that slavery was outlawed and Olivia felt the farther away from Cairo they traveled, the less there was a chance of rescue. She knew Allan would already be talking to the authorities about her abduction but the panic that gripped her heart made her believe he would never find her out in the desert. She needed someone who knew the terrain and could help her escape. The more she reasoned it out in her mind, the more it made sense.
Olivia needed her protector.
During the night, she found herself peering through the darkness trying to see him, concerned with the way his body trembled. Around midnight, she crept off her sleeping mat and prayed continually as she snuck across the camp until she reached his side.
His hands were pulled out to the front and his whole body shook in small tremors, in reaction to blood loss and the recent beating. She felt her heart constrict with compassion for his suffering and reached out one tentative hand, gently touching him on the shoulder.
He jerked himself awake and rolled partially over until he was facing her and Olivia watched a flicker of surprise flare up in his eyes. Then his features schooled themselves back into his stoic mask of indifference, the only sign of his suffering was the grim set of his mouth.
Olivia ripped off a section from the hem of her dress and gently, she began cleaning his bruised face, noticing again the wonderful color of his eyes. She felt the heat rise in her face when she remembered his body pressed against hers earlier today. Never in her life had someone done such a selfless act as to protect her with their own body and thinking about it made Olivia feel slightly nervous, flustered. And it bothered her she never felt anything remotely like this when Allan held her in his arms.
"Where does it hurt?" she questioned and sighed with frustration when she didn't get a response.
"See, now this is one of life's little ironies. Would you like to know what that is?" Olivia asked as she cleaned the bloody corner of his mouth.
When the warrior said nothing, Olivia continued, undaunted by his silence, too nervous from being with him not to talk. "This is the irony. My father was a doctor, my grandfather and uncles were doctors; I come from a long lineage of physicians. When my parents found out I was a girl rather than a boy, they weren't disappointed. Instead my father still taught me some rudimentary skills at healing, taking care of wounds and that sort of thing. Not every genteel woman knows about medical procedures. " She sniffed.
Nabil blinked in confusion; female healers were quite common among the Medjai.
"And I find it ironic that the one time, I could actually help someone, they're too quiet to tell me where it really hurts." Olivia shifted her position and started to examine his bloody shoulder, gently pulling away the caked material of his robe from the skin.
"Silence woman, lest your chattering gets us both killed," Nabil hissed through clenched teeth as she roughly probed the wound.
"Ah, so he does speak," Olivia confirmed and dug into the injury a little further.
"Kkreff…la min fadlik," the warrior moaned and jerked away. "I need no further help."
"But it's your help that I need," Olivia pleaded and leaned back. "I want to escape and it has to be tonight. I am not going to be sold like…like some horse at an auction and I certainly don't want a new husband in that… that barbarian."
"No…too dangerous in the desert. We would not make it back to Cairo…die trying." His voice faltered, his eyes fluttering close and Olivia feared he was losing consciousness.
"Are you saying you won't help me?" she asked incredulously and gently touched his shoulder.
"Help will come…be patient," he sighed.
"From whom? And when? I don't have time to be patient."
"My people…" Nabil opened his eyes, strong conviction showing clearly in his gaze. "You must trust me."
Olivia wadded up the rag and pressed it against the warrior's shoulder, trying to stop the slow seepage of blood from the injury. He was asking too much of her and yet, the trust he now asked for had already been given. She felt safe with him.
"Thank you for saving my life today."
The warrior closed his eyes in pain and arrogantly nodded. "Go back to your sleeping mat, ya soghair and rest. Tomorrow's journey…will be hard."
"Of course." With a sigh, she left the cloth folded against his wound and slowly, crept back to the other side. Once settled, she found sleep evasive as she stared at the profile of the warrior and when she closed her eyes, it wasn't the face of Allan that haunted her subconscious.