Chapter Ten
Rahmet Zadeh heard the Englishwoman. He had been sent down to the harbor to inquire of the passengers on the English merchantman that had arrived that morning.
It was not the first time he had shown up after dark to make the same inquiry.
For three weeks now it had been his task to question each foreign ship entering the port, and always at night, by which time the passengers, if any, would have had ample opportunity to come ashore if they meant to.
Omar Hassan gave them that chance. It was when the one he sought did not appear at the palace that day that Rahmet had been sent down to the harbor.
It was a task beneath Rahmet’s dignity, or so he thought.
He was captain of the palace guard. Any of Omar’s minions could have been sent to ask these pointless questions, but Omar had chosen him to do it.
He did not feel honored. He might if he had been told why the task was necessary, but he had not.
The Grand Vizier rarely if ever explained himself.
Disgruntled, feeling as if Omar Hassan were just using this task as a means to punish him, when he could think of no reason he should be punished, Rahmet was not in the best of moods when the sound of that raised, angry voice stopped him on his way back to the palace.
That he knew the woman spoke English was a mere coincidence, since he had only just come from hearing it spoken.
He didn’t speak it himself. And the dragoman he had brought along to interpret for him on the merchantman had rushed ahead to go about his business, afeard of Rahmet’s foul mood, and had already disappeared through the Marine Gate.
What stopped him was the incongruity of it.
She was on the wrong ship. The craft that the voice came from was one of Hamid Sharif’s ships, also arrived today among much excitement, since it had carried a full cargo of new slaves.
There could be no conceivable reason for an Englishwoman to be aboard it, no reason really for anyone to be aboard it at this time of night, when this was the home port and the cargo had already been unloaded.
And yet the deck was lit and light spilled out into the water from several cabins.
Rahmet’s curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t often that Englishwomen were brought here as captives, yet what else could this one be on this particular ship? Then why hadn’t they brought her out with the rest of the slaves today?
It was part of Rahmet’s job to report anything unusual to Omar Hassan, no matter how trivial, especially now with the threats against the Dey still unsolved. And this was unusual.
Rahmet suddenly struck his forehead with the flat of his palm.
What a blind fool he was! This could be why the Grand Vizier had sent him down here so often.
He could be waiting for word of this Englishwoman but not want Rahmet to know it.
It hadn’t been necessary to tell him the real reason.
Omar Hassan knew Rahmet would report something like this.
With those conclusions drawn, which suited Rahmet much better than thinking he was down here as some sort of punishment, Rahmet continued on to the Marine Gate.
There he stayed to visit with the guards, keeping his eye on Hamid Sharif’s ship and gleaning what information the guards could tell him about any activity that had gone on there.
They didn’t know much. They had the night watch, and had arrived only shortly after the call to evening prayer.
Rahmet didn’t have long to wait to witness some activity for himself.
The woman appeared on deck. Not only that, but she left the ship flanked by two men.
But there was no clink of chains. She was not restrained in any way.
Appearance-wise, she could be any Muslim woman wrapped up in her street robes.
Even standing a mere few feet away from her while one of her escorts explained their business to the guards, he could discern nothing about her to mark her a foreigner, not even the color of her eyes, for she kept them demurely lowered, as was only proper.
Rahmet was disappointed, but should have expected no less.
It was the bane of all men that on the streets, every woman looked alike.
A princess could visit the bazaar unnoticed.
A wife could walk down the street with her lover, and if her husband passed, he would never know it.
And a female slave could be escorted through the streets in complete secrecy simply by not appearing to be a slave.
A name was given for her that was common, a tale told that could not be immediately disproved. She was said to be resident of Algiers and a friend of their captain, which was why he had agreed to give her passage on his ship to visit a cousin here in Barikah.
The guards accepted this without question.
Rahmet didn’t believe a word of it, though he chose not to dispute it, for he wanted to know her destination and could do that only by following the three unnoticed.
He was more intrigued than ever that they were going to this trouble for the Englishwoman.
The only reason that he could think of for it was that she was too valuable to chance passing through the crowds that had turned out to watch the unloading of the Neapolitan slaves that afternoon.
If he was right, she would be delivered to Hamid Sharif.
If not, he would have to investigate further.
If Hamid Sharif weren’t so loyal to the Dey, and a slave dealer besides, Rahmet would have to consider other possibilities with such secrecy and deception involved, like an involvement in the plot against the Dey.
Women were not above suspicion. No one was.
It was the English tongue that made him doubt this possibility, however, for it was well known the English favored Jamil Reshid’s reign and would do nothing to jeopardize it.
And, too, it would not be the first time a pretty slave was smuggled into the city for a private auction that the slave dealer wanted kept from the public.
Such women were generally offered to the Dey first, and so this woman’s particulars would soon be known at the palace, to confirm one way or the other what Rahmet would report tonight.
He set off to follow the three, and as he had suspected, the woman was delivered to Hamid Sharif.
Rahmet returned to the palace to let Omar Hassan make what he would of this information.
Hopefully, this was the news the Grand Vizier had been waiting for, and Rahmet would no longer be sent to the harbor after tonight.
But he could tell nothing from Omar Hassan’s reaction, and for five days, no foreign ships arrived in port.
Then an English warship sailed into port for supplies, with two smaller escorts, and Rahmet’s suspicions were confirmed.
He was not called on again to visit the harbor.