Page 113 of The Viking’s Captive

“Fear.”

Tykir nodded his head, as if that was perfectly understandable. “Do you have a plan?”

“Nay, and do not think of suggesting another of your lackbrain plans, like the one all of you concocted back at Stoneheim.”

Tykir blinked his eyes rapidly, pretending affront. “You did not like our Seduction Plan for Adam? There were many good points in that plan.”

Adam was not about to get involved in that silly discussion again. “Shouldn’t the emissaries be back by now? ‘Tis almost noon, and they have been gone for two hours.”

King Thorvald, resting on his ship bed, had sent some emissaries to seek permission from Emperor Romanus for their contingent to enter the royal sector of the city. His health was much improved, but he tired easily. Today he wanted to appear at his best.

Tykir shrugged. “We still have plenty of time. The imperial gates do not close till three. Once inside, we have the rest of the day to find Tyra.”

“I have decided to stay behind here on the ship with some of the soldiers and Alrek,” Rashid said. He was on Tykir’s other side. “The Byzantines do not have much love for us Arabs, and I prefer not to take a chance.”

“Mayhap that is a good idea,” Adam agreed. “With luck, we will be leaving this harbor on the morrow. You are right about Alrek, as well. Good Lord, the boy is proving a real handful.”

At the moment, Alrek was running from one end of the ship to the other, trying to get the best view of the “Great City.” Adam could not blame him. It was a spectacular sight, even for those like himself who had been here before. He had come to study a unique hospitium, and Tykir had made innumerable visits during his amber-trading days.

Byzantium occupied a triangular promontory at the northern end of the Sea of Marmara. What had Alrek wide-eyed, though, was the Pharos, a famous lighthouse that guided mariners but also sent signals to distant parts of the empire by means of a relay system. In addition, Alrek was agape at the many palaces that could be seen from the harbor; some of their gilded domes were prominent from a far distance.

Adam would have liked to show Alrek the royal zoo or aviary, but there would be no time for that. Tyra was his main priority.

“Are you ready?” Thorvald asked. “I see my men, along with the emperor’s guard, approaching.”

Adam nodded. The butterflies in his stomach now felt like hummingbirds.

“I hope you have a plan, boy,” the king added.

“Wh-what? I thought you had a plan,” he stammered out. When King Thorvald had insisted on making this journey, Adam had assumed he knew what protocol to follow.

“See, Adam, I told you that you needed a plan,” Tykir said.

Adam closed his eyes and said a prayer … the first time he’d prayed in two long years. Please, God, hear me this time.

Someone was going to pay for plucking her …

Harems were not all they were touted to be.

Of course, the only persons Tyra had ever heard touting harems were men. And Rashid, who was of course a man. That had to be taken into account.

It had only been three days since Tyra had joined the harem of Amin ed-Daula, some desert sultan who was a cousin or half-brother or something of Saïf ed-Daula, but already she was bored to the point of numbness, and angry to the point of … numbness. She had yet to meet her “master,” who was presumably off fighting Byzantines, or capturing more slave girls for his harem, or hiding from her. He only had two hundred females in his harem so far. About one hundred eighty of them hadn’t seen the old guy, who was more than fifty, for five years or more. She’d sure like to see him. She’d like to give him a piece of her mind … or a piece of her sword if she could recover the weapon.

To be fair, she was certain that the leaders of this tribe … rather, harem … would like to get rid of her, too. In fact, she had taken to sleeping with her eyes half open, just in case she pushed someone too far. “Troublesome, loud, big, barbarian” were words often used to describe her.

Her first day in the harem, they’d left her pretty much alone.

The second day, she’d taken a bath, willingly, in a marble tub big enough to hold twelve people. Then it took eight eunuchs of considerable size to hold her down while every single hair on her body was plucked off. She was now hairless everywhere except for her head. Somebody was going to pay for that atrocity.

Today, she was attending harem school. The lesson of the day … bloody hell, the lesson of every day, she would guess … was the best way to please the master. The instructors were the head eunuch, Selim, and an aging houri Salome. She thought it ironic that a man with no manparts should be teaching women how to please those who had such parts … along with a lady whose female parts had long ago dried up.

There were three dozen women lying about on low divans sucking up this sexual knowledge like thirsty camels drinking water. Tyra’s contribution was to snort her disbelief or make rude comments at various intervals, especially when they recommended such things as rouging the nipples, which they referred to poetically as flower buds. “Not unless the male is going to rouge his lily, too.”

“M’lady,” warned Kareem, a surly-looking eunuch who stood near her. He was about three feet tall and three feet wide. With an evil grin, he caressed the small whip he held in his hands. “Wise females know when to curb their tongues.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which probably wasn’t a smart choice, if his low growl was any indication.

“Always keep one’s eyes downcast with meekness,” was another morsel of wisdom the two instructors tossed out.