Chapter Fourteen #2
“Then you’ve been here for some time now? Yes,” Jeanne answered her own question. “Sharif would want to allow time for buyers to come from as far away as Algiers and Tunis. And knowing what a prize he has, he has no doubt set a high starting bid. I’m surprised he didn’t offer you to the Dey here.”
“He did,” Chantelle replied. “But Rashid or Reshid, whatever his name is, didn’t want me.”
“No? Ah, that is too bad.” Jeanne sighed. “I’ve heard he is young.”
“So much the better, then, that he didn’t want me, if I can be set free if the man who buys me dies. I’d prefer an old man, of course.”
“No, no, petite, never say so. You don’t want your first time with a man to be with an old goat who doesn’t care if he pleases you.
And this will be your first time, yes?” A slow blush creeping up Chantelle’s cheeks was answer enough.
“Besides, you do not always find yourself free when your master dies. Look what happened with my first husband. And I have not even told you about my second yet.”
“You married again?”
“There was not much else I could do when I found myself stranded in Istanbul. But at least I did the picking that time, though without a dowry there was not too much for me to pick from. I became third wife to one of the minor officials at the Sultan’s court.
He was an older man, too, but handsome at least, and still quite vigorous in…
anyway, I was competing again to remain in his favor, and so earned myself enough money for a dowry, or passage home, if something should happen to him, and it did.
He somehow displeased the Sultan and ended up losing his head. ”
“You’re joking!”
“Not at all. Generally when such happens, the Sultan takes possession of all the condemned man’s property, but my husband’s oldest son happened to be favored at court, so this didn’t happen.”
“But you weren’t property this time.”
“That is a moot point here. I was part of the harem, of which all but two wives were slaves.”
“Then you were set free again?”
Jeanne made a sound of disgust. “This time I had too much accumulated wealth, and my lord’s son was a greedy little bastard.
He confiscated everything we women possessed and sold us all, except for his mother.
I was bought by a slave trader out of Tripoli.
En route, we encountered an American frigate that the rais thought he could take. He was wrong.”
“You were rescued?” Chantelle gasped.
“Yes, but enjoyed freedom for no more than a week. Late one night we were surprised by one of Hamid Sharif’s ships, and so here I am, starting all over again.”
“I’m sorry,” Chantelle said. “It must have been terrible, to find yourself so close to freedom.”
Jeanne shrugged. “It is all the same to me. I have no one in France to return to. If I stay here the rest of my life…” She shrugged again. “It is not so bad, petite, once you get used to it.”
Chantelle found that so unlikely, she refrained from commenting on it. “And the Americans? What happened to them?”
“Ah, they will likely all be ransomed. The Americans, they are very particular about their own countrymen. The American consul was right there to meet the ship, and though Sharif technically owns all prisoners, they were taken to the state bagnio, where they will remain even if they are bought by investors, to be rented out for manual labor. This way, they earn money until their ransoms can be arranged.”
“Yes, Hakeem told me something about that.”
“It is usually a good investment for a buyer, because negotiations can take years sometimes if the ruling Dey or Bey is one to drag his feet, as most are. I understand things like this move along much more quickly in Barikah—at least this is what the American captain was told. They are fortunate that they have a consulate here. Those who do not are usually bought outright, or they end up spending the rest of their lives in the bagnio.”
“The Neapolitans who were captured on our way here must not have a consul,” Chantelle said quietly. “I saw them all sold, right out there, and inspected…” Her voice died away as another blush climbed her cheeks.
Jeanne smiled to herself, thinking that a girl this young and innocent would have closed her eyes the moment she realized men were going to be stripped down to nothing in front of her.
“It is the normal way of things here, petite. A slave must be inspected by prospective buyers to see if he is fit and sound, and capable of many years of arduous work. That is all sailors are good for, since they are not eunuchs and so cannot look forward to the lazy life of the harem.”
“Yes, I understand all that, no matter how unfair it seems. What I don’t understand is why women can’t be ransomed, too. I’m an heiress. I can afford to match whatever Sharif may hope to sell me for.”
“But women are ransomed, petite, and quickly released if they are indeed wealthy or are well connected back home. Does the English consul know you are here?”
Chantelle shook her head. “I was secreted into the city at night.”
“Ah, yes, you would be. Women might be ransomed, but rarely ones as lovely as you.”
“But if it’s a matter of price—”
“It’s not. You must realize that Sharif is in the business of selling slaves, not collecting ransoms. To him, you make a rare offering that can only enhance his reputation, which is actually worth more to him than the money.
Even if you had been captured by one of the Dey’s ships instead of a privately owned vessel, it is likely the rais would be smart enough to keep you under wraps until his lord could see you and decide if he wanted you for his own harem or to send as a gift to the Sultan. ”
“What if I could manage to get word to the English consul?” Chantelle asked hopefully.
Jeanne shook her head regretfully. “Once you enter a harem, your chances of being ransomed are virtually gone, even if your consul should later learn of your presence. Your master need only deny that he has you, and as no man can enter another man’s harem, it would be impossible to prove otherwise.
The sanctity of the harem is universal here.
Not even the Dey would force his way into the harem of his lowest servant. ”
Chantelle looked down at her lap. “Then I must be freed, or escape.”
“Petite, it would be better for you if you do not waste your time hoping for such a possibility. True, if a concubine goes to an important house and she has accumulated enough personal wealth, she might be able to purchase her freedom at her master’s death.
But it is more likely a husband will be found for her, and her wealth used as a dowry, and that is only if she has not made enemies of her master’s wives, or his mother, who is the real power in the harem.
It is just as likely she will be resold, because she is and will always remain a slave, even if her master takes her to wife should she bear him a son. ”
“Did you bear your master a son, the one who married you?”
“My case was different. My first master was not an important man, just a rich one, and he already had six sons by his first wife, so he did not care whether I gave him a son or not. But you are likely to go to an important household, perhaps even the royal harem of Algiers or Tunis, and an important man rarely marries a slave unless she first gives him a son.” At Chantelle’s stricken look, Jeanne quickly added, “You never know, petite. The man who buys you may be looking for a wife. Many of the more pretty and intelligent women are actually sought after as wives by local men, either Christian or Muslim.” She did not add that that was only if they could afford them, and only a select few would be able to afford Chantelle, but she had mistaken Chantelle’s look.
“I don’t want a husband here, Jeanne. That would be too—too permanent. I don’t think I could bear it if I had to give up hope of ever returning to England.”
Those few words had brought tears to Chantelle’s eyes, making Jeanne uncomfortable enough to look away. “As I first said, you are more likely to go to an important household,”
“And escape? Is that possible?
Jeanne couldn’t bring herself to give Chantelle false hope. “Escape is least likely of all, petite. Many harems contain more eunuchs than they do women, and they are there solely to guard the women, to keep outsiders out and the women in.”
“Then what is there for me to hope for?”
“You can hope for a handsome master, one you will fall in love with and adore serving.”
“And sharing with dozens of other women?” Chantelle bit out caustically.
It was the first bit of spirit Jeanne had noticed in the young girl, and she was surprised enough to say, “But that is the way here. It is the one thing you will quickly get used to.”