Page 85 of Inconvenient Honor
“I can’t make it all out. Her Turkish is primitive, and some of it was in Berber. She disapproves of my uncovered head.”
The girl pinned Richard with a look and spoke again.
“She congratulates me on baby I think,” Lily said. “She asked if I couldn’t find a better man. This one let me fall into the hands of pirates.”
“She didn’t say that.”
Lily raised her eyebrow. “I believe that’s what she meant.”
A growl from the guard followed more rapid speech in mix of Turkish and Arabic.
“He grows impatient. You are to eat and go with him,” Lily translated.
“Good. Perhaps we can make progress.”
“The last thing she said is odd.”
“How so?”
“She said, ‘Don’t worry, lady. The Rais is kind and good. You will have help with your baby.’”
Kind and good?Richard looked at the fierce, scarred face at the door.Beg leave to doubt it.
Likemost of the houses on the God-forsaken island, the one in which Hamidou held court had been constructed of mud and brick. Slightly larger than the others, it had a floor of hardened clay that felt cool to Richard’s bare feet. A dozen or so men sat on cushioned benches built into the hardened mud walls on three sides, their eyes curious and assessing.
The Rais himself sat at a table like the one in the captain’s quarters onboard ship. Unlike the one in the captain’s quarters, the table had been oiled and polished. It, like the room, showed every sign of tending. Richard found the terracotta platters adorning the wall to be decorative, if primitive, and the colors of the cushions attractive in the dim confines. Someone cared for this place.
“Ah, the English lord. Come, sit, have tea,” Hamidou greeted him in English.
I’ll tell you where to put your tea,Richard thought before he swallowed the anger that boiled in his guts. Lily needed him clear-headed.It never does to lose one’s temper too early in a negotiation.
“My cousins wish to see this powerful man in our midst,” Hamidou said. He swept a look at Richard from bare feet, across ragged robe, to filthy hair. His eyes gleamed. He didn’t need to understand words to understand the amusement of the dozen or so men sitting on benches built into the walls on all sides.
Richard, still standing, looked around the room slowly with a face he prayed looked calmer than he felt. “Your home looks comfortable,” he said.
Hamidou’s mouth twitched. “This is the house of my uncle.” He nodded to an older man in baggy homespun who grinned back through a gap in his teeth. “My own in Algiers is somewhat more”—he hesitated as if seeking the right word—“spacious.”
Two men on the surrounding benches laughed.Either only two of them know English or only two have been to Hamidou’s “spacious” house.One of them said something Richard couldn’t translate that provoked more general laughter. One man clapped the old man he assumed was the uncle on the shoulder. The old man shrugged ruefully.
I need Lily,he thought.But I don’t want her anywhere near these men. If only she could give me her command of languages.
“Sit, English,” Hamidou commanded.
Richard sat and accepted tea, green like none served in any good English household and served in a glass. He raised the glass and sniffed. The aroma of mint wafted up from the drink.
“We will not poison you, English,” Hamidou said. “Drink.”
He did. He sipped it slowly to give himself time to study the room. He recognized a few of the men from the ship. Others, less formidable in appearance, less festooned with weapons, appeared to be locals. Less festooned, but not unarmed, he noticed while he waited for Hamidou to make the first move. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Shall we do business, Marquess? What is it you can offer me that I don’t already have?”
Odd question. Aside from money what might he want?
“Money.”
Hamidou shrugged. “We ask for ransom, ships come. My people die.” He leaned forward. “Hostages die. Slavery is better.”
“That will not happen.”
