Many thanks to those of you who have reviewed. Keeps me motivated so unashamedly. "Might I have some more please?"
Thanks for the laughs and keeping my feet on the ground Pookwana and K. T. The Opinionated.
They don't belong to me. Never will.
Italics means it's thoughts. //Back slashes mean telepathy or it's close cousin//
Foreign words are translated at the bottom of the page.
It was after the evening meal that the old healer Hassan appeared at Saladin's private apartment door, the infidel slave at his side.
"Hassan, come in. What brings you here?" Saladin looked up from his board game.
The physician walked in heeled by the infidel. Moving over to the pair Hassan studied the board silently. The bowman knelt at his left side. "Good, very good," Hassan praised reaching down to stroke the loose curls gently.
"My Lord, Saladin. I have brought your new slave. He no longer needs my healing. I have been calling him Shadow." Hassan spoke in an unusual manner.
Curious dark eyes studied the bowed head. This was the first time Hassan had brought the bowman out of seclusion.
"Shadow, can you say hello?" Hassan coaxed softly.
Shyly the bowed head rose. The fine features were partially hidden behind a curtain of loose hair.
"He is healed?" Saladin found himself ducking his head trying to get a clear look at the bowman's face.
"He limps, cannot see, and still has an occasional seizure. These things are in God's hands now, I have done all that I know," Hassan sighed stroking the slave's head.
"How old is he?" Hakim asked in disbelief at how very young the once inviolable bowman now seemed. At Hakim's words the slave pressed tightly against Hassan's leg hiding his face against the old man. A white knuckled fist rose to tightly grasp the old healer's robe.
"Hush, be still little one, that is Hakim ibn Yusuf. He's your master's Captain of Guards," Hassan soothed. "You need to answer now."
"Hello, Thir." A faint whisper was heard. Slowly the bowman's head turned revealing the wide unfocused sapphire gaze. "I'th four," the bowman held up four fingers proudly before turning and hiding his face once more.
Startled eyes lifted to Hassan, who simply nodded sadly.
"Come here, little one," Saladin ordered gently.
Through much gentle coaxing and several judicious bribes of sweets the sultan soon had the 'boy' 'investigating'. Long fingers traced Saladin's face and beard and soft snuffles indicated the child was 'seeing' his master.
"Do you understand what you are boy?" The sultan halted the curious fingers with a gentle hand as they began to investigate the nearby chess pieces.
"I'th Thadow." The guiless face lifted.
"Do you understand what a slave is?" Hakim spoke carefully watching intently.
Cheerfully the boy named a number of the palace servants, mostly those in the service of Hassan.
"Do you know what that means, boy?" Hakim scowled. A frown drew the boy's eyebrows down and white teeth chewed a moment on his bottom lip.
"No," the child ducked his head nervously.
"It means you belong to Salah al-Din Yusuf," Hakim answered roughly.
The old healer glared at Hakim for his rough handling of such a delicate situation. Saladin seemed at a loss on how to proceed.
"Like an Abba?" the boy asked happily.
"Hell." Hakim paled, unable to bring himself to hurt the trusting child looking toward him.
"I will take care of you for long as you need me." Saladin smiled pulling the damaged 'boy' into his arms. "Will that be alright with you, little one?"
"You won' make me drink that tea?" the boy whispered loudly.
"Only if Hassan says it is absolutely necessary," Saladin answered with a faint smile.
"Tathteth nathty," the child pouted.
"It most certainly does," Hakim said wryly.
Saladin turned loose of Shadow when the boy squirmed to be set free. The three men settled into a comfortable conversation and the chess game picked up where it had left off. Gradually the boy began to move further and further away from the trio as curiosity overcame shyness and he began to explore his surroundings. At least one pair of eyes tended to linger on the boy throughout the evening to make certain he stayed out of trouble. An occasional smile would light dark eyes when the excited child made a new discovery. After several hours the boy's explorations slowed.
"I'th tired," Shadow announced, flopping down and yawning widely.
"You are? Then you should sleep," Saladin smiled faintly, noting the heavy eyes and the childish rubbing of fists over eyes.
"Alright." The slave stood and made his way to the door.
"Shadow! Where do you think you're going?" Saladin barked.
"Bed," the child pressed back against the door, his eyes wide at the angry voice.
"My Lord, he meant no disobedience, he has a bed in my quarters it's where he has slept his whole life," Hassan reminded quietly.
"I shouldn't have yelled," the sultan sighed, moving over to the frightened boy. "Don't Wander off. That is a bad thing to do. I would worry if you wander."
"I be good." The bottom lip quivered and the wide eyes filled with tears.
"Come here and sit down for a moment." Saladin gently guided the boy back to the table where the other men sat.
"You need to make arrangements for your Shadow," Hakim pointed out.
"I know that," Saladin scowled irritably. "He needs supervision."
"He needs a nurse, not some bully," Hakim protested. "He's little more than a baby." The two friends got into a spirited debate on what Shadow needed.
"Children!" Hassan interrupted much the way he had when the pair had quarreled while in the nursery themselves. "That is for tomorrow. Now you need a blanket," the old healer snickered.
"He's asleep?" Hakim growled in disbelief. The slave was kneeling just as Saladin had left him, his chin resting on his chest. Long damp eyelashes rested on tear-stained cheeks.
"Why did he cry?" Saladin asked faintly.
"You yelled at him. He tires easily and he hurts most of the time. You had him up past bed time." Hassan reminded.
Wordlessly, Hakim stood. Reaching down he lifted the slight figure into his arms. "Are you going to make him a pallet or do you want him in your bed?"
"I'm not interested in bedding him," Saladin growled.
"Of course not, he's a baby," Hakim glared back. "He must be getting senile! Known him his whole life, I have, and he's never looked at a man! Like he'd take advantage of you," Hakim huffed to his burden. "Look at him standing there flopping his jaw about. He looks like a camel. Let's put you to bed little one," the big man turned back the blankets, gently stripped the boy down and slid him into the sultan's bed, showing remarkable skill in handling the limp form.
"You're awfully good at that." Saladin stalked over.
"Practice." Hakim grinned widely and winked.
"With all those brats of yours, of course you have practice." Saladin refused to get into a discussion about women with his friend.
"How many children do you have now?" Hassan demanded
"Nineteen," Hakim preened.
"See? Practice," Saladin snorted.
"Of course, lots of sheet turning to make babies," Hakim smirked.
"So you must have finally gotten over that too fast off the mark thing," the sultan sniffed derisively.
Any retort Hakim started to make was cut off when Saladin continued, "Of course most of them don't look much like you."
"Of course not, since he adopts every stray he comes across," Hassan added fuel to the fire.
"Are any of them Hakim's?" Saladin's dark eyes danced with laughter.
"You know eleven of them are," The big Captain snapped. "I really hope your Shadow is a bed wetter," Hakim grinned evilly before dragging Hassan out of the room with him.
"Hassan? He isn't is he?" a concerned voice carried down the hall after the two hurrying men.
"He is only four, my sultan. He's been doing very well lately," Hassan snickered before calling back, exchanging amused looks with Hakim.
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Saladin smiled down at the sleeping boy, moved from Saladin's bed, now curled up in a pile of pillows and tangled blankets. So much for all my work to make him a comfortable pallet to sleep on. He does seem happy enough now that he's arranged things to suit himself. Who'd believe that the Sultan of Sultan's was fussing over a slave boy's bedding. I really need to find something more suitable for him tomorrow. I wonder if Neti would like to be his nursemaid. She seems so lost now without Roxanna to care for. That will wait for tomorrow, as for now it is late.
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Saladin awoke and grasped the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath his pillow. He lay silently listening intently for the noise that had awakened him.
"Shadow? Boy, are you ill?" Rising quickly the Sultan lit a lamp and looked toward the pallet. He's crying! By the prophet how does one deal with tears? Saladin groaned.
"Sh, sh, Little One. What makes you cry?" The hardened warrior knelt down beside the pallet.
"'Ladin? You here, you here," Shadow choked in disbelief and relieved joy. Desperate arms were wrapped around Saladin's neck.
"Of course I'm here," the uncomfortable man gently pried off the clinging child. Saladin began to rub soothing circles on the sobbing boy's back. "Now what has upset you so?"
"I was bad . . . I gotted . . . lotht . . . I didn't . . . mean to . . . wand . . . er off," the boy gasped through a fit of hiccups.
"Ah, is that it? Shadow, you weren't bad. I made you a bed here in my chamber. You stayed right where I put you," Saladin sighed, pulling the boy close. He rocked until he heard Shadow's breathing settle out.
"Not bad?" a faint little whisper carried.
"You weren't bad," Saladin promised.
"You mad at Shadow?" the worried little boy asked.
"No, I'm not mad," the sultan hugged his charge just a little tighter. "Are you alright now?"
"Uh huh, I'th thirthty," Shadow rubbed his nose against the nightrobe then lifted his head off the comforting shoulder.
"Alright. A little water then back to sleep," Saladin ordered gently. Stifling a sigh the Sultan took in the runny nose and the . . . slime coating his shoulder. At least it's not the other end. Looking around he spotted a cloth lying on the floor near at hand, the boy had dropped it while playing earlier. "Blow," He ordered holding the cloth to the runny nose. How do women deal with this? Saladin winced at the noise and mess his slave gifted him with.
"Gotta go." Shadow suddenly looked desperate.
"Up you come, first you take care of business, then we'll get your drink," the Sultan steadied the wavering steps as he escorted Shadow into the other room. "Wash your hands," Saladin reminded. Picking up a cloth the sultan washed the stains off the bowman's face. If Hakim says one word come morning . . . I'll make him a . . . EUNUCH. Taking Shadow's right hand in his left Saladin led him back to the pallet.
"Drink," Shadow reminded with a sniffle.
"Here's your drink." Saladin smiled wryly as he helped support the sleepy boy's cup.
"Thank you . . . What doeth I call you?" Shadow asked.
"We will decide tomorrow. Now go to sleep," the protective man sighed.
"Night." In a breath the slave was asleep in his nest.
Now to change and wash up. Mindeel, I need to order more mindeel. Saladin yawned widely making a mental note for in the morning.
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Mele -the sultan's body servant- entered the bedchamber just before dawn. Spying the empty bed he glanced around the room searching for his missing master. A worried frown wrinkled the old man's forehead when Saladin wasn't found.
"My Lord?" the old man spoke aloud.
"Mele, get over here, please." Saladin's voice sounded somewhat desperate as he called to his servant.
Circling the bed, the old man's eyes widened, taking in the unheard of situation. The sultan lay in a pile of pillows and twisted bedding, and the new slave was sprawled belly down with his head resting on Saladin's chest.
"At your service my lord," Mele calmly watched as the increasingly desperate man tried to free himself.
"We'll have to wake him. I hate to do it, he had a very bad night," Saladin dared the old man to tease him.
"Bad dreams?" Mele moved, trying to see more of the mysterious new member of his 'family'.
"Night terrors. True memories I think," Saladin gently stroked the boy's scarred back. "Help me up, the sunrise's and it is time for alfajru."
"He doesn't want to turn loose of his 'Huggy'," Mele smiled openly at his lord's predicament.
"Do something," Saladin growled. At the old man's censoring look and the tapping of his toe Saladin sighed and muttered something faintly.
"I didn't hear you, oh Sultan of Sultan's, Eagle of the Desert, Defender of the Word," Mele's dark eyes twinkled.
"Please help me you old . . . most wondrous of servants and tutor of manners to this most unworthy student." Saladin widened his eyes innocently.
Mele leaned down and ran gentle fingers down the youth's side. The boy began to stir when Mele repeated the motion. The boy grumbled and turned over protecting the ticklish spot. Mele carefully slipped a pillow into the grasping arms before the boy woke. "It used to work on you. How do you think I ever got Fluff washed?"
Saladin rushed from the bed, flushing at Mele's teasing grin.
Once the morning prayer was over Mele served breakfast. "This is too much," Saladin protested.
"Hakim will be here soon enough," Mele huffed.
Mele stood puzzled, looking at the pile of discarded nightrobes. "My Lord, perhaps a visit to Hassan is in order."
"I'm not sick. The boy . . . cried a lot. His nose . . . " Saladin trailed off at the old man's look.
"He wiped his nose on you did he?" Mele grinned. "Keep a towel at your bedside for now, toss it over your shoulder for those times. It will save on laundry."
"I was going to see if Neti would be interested in taking him on," Saladin muttered.
"She most assuredly will be glad to help. The boy trusts you," Mele let concerned eyes rest on his beloved charge.
"I need someone to watch over him during the day. He will stay here at night. Does that please you?" the sultan asked gently.
"What, please me? Another ungrateful scamp messing things up and getting into trouble, needing his nose wiped and his behind paddled! How would such a thing please me?" Mele demanded grumpily.
"Because you'll have another boy to teach, Old Father. If he reminds you too much of Tuka I will make other arrangements," Saladin hugged the still grieving father.
"Hassan says this boy's heart is strong." Mele's voice trembled.
"Very strong," Saladin agreed.
"The place would fall down around your ears without me. A little boy?" the old man's grumbling faded into a wistful whisper.
"A little boy. A very charming little boy," Saladin agreed once more, rocking the old man comfortingly. "One who is going to need much instruction. He has no manners what-so-ever. Hassan has been far too lenient with him. I'm going to need someone to teach him proper manners," Saladin noted softly.
"He's going to need watching, trouble likes little boys. Neti isn't as young as she once was, she's going to need help." Mele stepped back straightening his clothes, dignity now restored.
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Hakim soon arrived to share breakfast with his old friend. While they ate, Hakim gave a report on the nights happenings.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Mele reprimanded the big captain.
"Excuse me . . . please," Hakim swallowed the half-chewed bite. Automatically he ducked the unseen swat.
"I taught you better. What kind of example to your children is that?" Mele growled.
"I do better at home . . . honest," Hakim said earnestly.
"Then do better here. Children learn best by example." Mele glared.
"Does this mean we can keep him?" Hakim grinned happily looking toward Shadow.
"You have to take care of him. See that he's fed. Clean up after him. See that he gets plenty of sleep and exercise," Mele ordered.
"I promise," Hakim answered.
"Shadow is a person, not a stray dog that Hakim has drug home," Saladin scowled.
"Not that much difference," both men answered.
"Both have to be taken care of," Mele snorted before gathering up the dishes.
"Hey, I'm not done," Hakim protested.
"Yes, you are. You're getting fat," Mele sniffed walking out.
"Do something. You're the ruler," Hakim demanded, looking at Saladin.
"I'm Sultan. Whatever gave you the idea that I'm the ruler? Do I look like a fool to you? He still carries that switch you know," Saladin grinned at the reason for most of his childhood switchings.
"Do you think perhaps Shadow will distract him?" Hakim asked in a very innocent tone.
"One little boy? When your pack of wild ones can't?" Saladin asked in disbelief.
The two men sighed, stopping their bantering to begin discussing the true business of the day.
Arabic
Salah al-Din Yusuf - Saladin's true name in Arabic form
Abba - Father affectionate form i.e. Daddy or Poppa
alfajru - dawn prayer
mindeel- handkerchief.