"Could you not have put another garment on me?" Rhonwyn demanded.
"A clean garment on a filthy body?" Nilak sounded shocked.
"I am going nowhere without something to cover me," Rhonwyn insisted stonily.
"I realize you are not used to being naked, my child, but we are all females here," Nilak replied quietly. "Come now, do not be foolish. The baths will restore you." Nilak arose and held out her hand.
"No!" Rhonwyn said.
Nilak did not bother to argue further. Noor was going to have to learn obedience sooner than later. She signaled to two eunuchs. "The lady Noor is to be escorted to the baths and is having a moment of obstinacy. See that she overcomes it. I will meet you there." Then she moved off, crossing the main room of the harem, a small smile upon her pretty face as she heard the shriek of outrage behind her. She did not bother to turn about. The eunuchs had been given their orders and would carry them out. Nilak entered the baths and called for the bath mistress.
"Good day, Sarai," she said as the bath mistress came.
"Good day to you, Nilak. You are bringing me the warrior woman? Where is she? I hear he wants her tonight and there will be a great deal to do with this one."
"She is coming," Nilak said with a small laugh. "She objected to being naked, and two eunuchs had to escort her, I fear."
"Foolish creature," Sarai muttered. "These Frankish women are so ridiculous in their fear of nudity. Ah, here she is."
Rhonwyn was pink with her outrage. The two eunuchs had grasped her arms and hustled her through the harem, practically lifting her off her feet when she resisted them. When they put her down before the bath mistress and Nilak, she whirled and struck them both with her fists. "Barbarians!" she shouted angrily.
The eunuchs were surprised by her ferocity, but neither was hurt by the blows. They laughed and then departed.
Rhonwyn turned again and said to Nilak, "How could you let them do that to me, lady?"
"I do not argue with foolish girls," Nilak said sternly. "The rule in this world is obedience, Noor. When you do not or will not obey, you will be made to, my child. Now, you are not a stupid girl, so this should be the only lesson you will need."
"I will escape this place, return to my old world," Rhonwyn said defiantly.
"No, you will not," Nilak said implacably. "Even if by some miracle you managed to leave the palace, you would not know where to go, and you would be caught and brought back. You would be whipped upon the soles of your feet until you could not walk for three days. That is the punishment for disobedient slave girls. We do not mar the beauty of harem women, but unruly behavior must be punished. Cease your foolishness, Noor! We have much to do before moonrise. This is Sarai, the bath mistress. You will obey her, and I will be by your side to see that you do."
"You remind me of my aunt," Rhonwyn said. "She is an abbess."
Nilak laughed. "And did she have to speak so directly to you, my child?"
"Aye," Rhonwyn said, and then followed the two older women into the balhs.
She had never thought herself a dirty woman, but she had also never known what clean truly was. She was rinsed and soaped. A silver instrument was used to scrape the dirt from her body. She was rinsed again. A thick peach-colored paste with a heavy fragrance was smoothed over her arms, her legs, beneath her arms, and atop her Venus mons. She was brought a cup of hot, sweet mint tea. When she had finished it, she watched in utter amazement as the paste was rinsed from her body, and her body hair with it.
Rhonwyn looked down at her mons and blushed. She had never noticed before how plump it was, nor the deep rosy slash that bisected its twin halves. There was an intense sensuality to her body now that made her very uncomfortable. Neither her nudity, nor their own nudity, seemed to disturb her two companions. What an odd world, she thought as she sat quietly while her fingernails and her toenails were pared almost to the quick and then smoothed and shaped neatly.
Her gilt-colored hair with its gold and silver lights was most thoroughly washed several times until she thought her scalp was going to be scrubbed raw. Then her hair was carefully dried by hands that toweled and brushed until her tresses almost floated like thistledown in a west wind. They lay her upon a raised and padded bench, and an old crone carrying a basket came From the shadows.
"This will be the hardest thing for you to bear," Nilak said. "Rafi will cleanse your love channel for you. There is no prurience in her actions, my child. Remain quiet, and she will not hurt you."
Rhonwyn's eyes were wide and startled at Nilak's words, but by now she realized that resistance was indeed futile. She tried not to tense as Rafi pulled her nether lips apart, bathing her gently in places Rhonwyn never knew could be bathed. The old lady's fingers pushed a soft cloth into her body, cleansing and purifying the path the caliph would take this night. Rhonwyn was amazed that she could be stretched quite that wide.
"He will enjoy this one, for while she is not a virgin, she is barely used," Rafi remarked to Nilak and Sarai. "Her pleasure jewel has not yet grown greatly." She cackled and looked down at Rhonwyn. "I am done now, my chick. May you know only joy in your master's bed."
"What did she say?" Rhonwyn asked Nilak.
"She says you are beautiful and wishes you joy" came the reply. "She is finished now, and you are ready for your creaming. Remain where you are. You will like this part," she said with a small smile.
A young eunuch, naked but for a loincloth, came with a tray of lotions and creams. Looking Rhonwyn over critically, he selected a lotion from his tray, poured it into his pink palm, and began to massage her body. Rhonwyn was shocked, but the young brown eunuch worked efficiently, her naked body apparently quite boring to him. His fingers dug into her shoulders and neck. He massaged her chest and breasts; her arms, hands, and fingers; legs, feet, and toes. Then he turned her over as easily as if he were turning a flat bread over a fire and began to work her shoulders again, her back, her buttocks, the backs of her legs and feet. Tense at first, Rhonwyn found herself relaxing in spite of herself and felt newly energized. These baths were the most deliciously decadent experience she had had in all of her life. She somehow thought that Edward would have enjoyed them, and the remembrance of her husband sobered her.
She was being prepared like a lamb for the slaughter for the caliph's bed. Another man. She had not been able to make happy the one she was wed to in the matter of passion. When she displeased this man, would he order her killed? Perhaps if he were unhappy with her, he would return her to the crusaders' encampment, and poor Sir Fulk as well. It was a slim hope, but one to which she would cling. She would tell the caliph honestly that she was unable to give or receive pleasure, and then he would send her back to Edward. There was nothing to be afraid of any longer, and she had certainly enjoyed these baths in the meantime. She would have to tell Edward all about them when she returned to him. Haven could certainly benefit by such civility.
Chapter 9
The caliph's wife was a beautiful woman whose intelligence, kindness, and common sense had kept her close to her husband's heart for over fifteen years. She was Egyptian by birth, a slender lady with pale golden-colored skin, beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and long, thick dark hair that she wore loose and dressed with strands of tiny pearls. She wore a peach-colored silk kaftan trimmed with gold at the keyhole neck opening and the wide sleeves.
"Kneel to the caliph's wife, Noor," Nilak instructed her charge.
Rhonwyn knelt, but she did not bow her head.
A barely discernible smile touched the lips of the caliph's wife. The girl had pride, and properly channeled that was a good trait. It was just possible that this beautiful creature might make her husband a fourth and final wife. An ally against the two silly featherbrains who held the positions of second and third wives and who spent much time attempting ways to supplant her or cause trouble for her son, Mohammed. And if her son had not been there to follow his father, they would have fought with each other over whose son would, and then Cinnebar would have suffered the tortures of a civil war.