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“But I brought him his ale,” she said, her gaze catching with Ianthe’s fearful one.
“The ale was tampered with. Your other guardsmen and my workers are ‘asleep’ as well,” Ianthe told her. “Even Joseph Samuel.”
“As you two will soon be, too,” her captor said, then spoke in a foreign language to three other masked men who emerged from the balcony door, as well as the steps leading to the shop below stairs. Although she was not proficient in Arabic, she recognized bits and pieces of their words as ones Rashid, her brother-by-marriage Adam’s healer assistant, had taught her when she visited their Northumbria home.
Drifa and Ianthe were bound and gagged then with some scarves the leering men found in a low chest in Ianthe’s solar. Then the men dragged in Drifa’s four guardsmen and Ianthe’s shop workers with Joseph Samuel, all limp with the same deep sleep as Ivar; they bound and gagged them as well. The only one missing was Irene, Ianthe’s elderly maid, and Drifa could only assume that she was the culprit who’d tampered with the ale and helped these men. Luckily Drifa and Ianthe had only drunk wine, or they would be in the same condition.
“We must wait for a few hours until it is dark,” her captor said in heavily accented Greek.
“Shall we put these two to sleep, Hakeem?” one of the others asked the man who appeared to be the leader.
“We can wait, Faisal, as long as they are gagged. Did you put a sign in the shop window saying they are closed for a funeral?”
“Yes. I wonder whose funeral it will be? Ha, ha, ha!” Faisal must be the second man’s name. By the gods, he reeked of garlic. Did no one ever tell him a little went a long way?
Drifa saw no humor in such a morbid jest.
“Shall we take both women with us when we go?” another man asked. “The Greek woman could act as translator.”
“I do not think it will be necessary since the princess speaks Greek,” Hakeem remarked. “Although we could use the Greek woman on our journey to sate our lust and then sell her in the slave marts in Baghdad.”
Drifa’s eyes shot to Ianthe’s, which widened with even more fear.
Oh, merciful Asgard, she wished that Sidroc was still in the city. Who else would come looking for them? Other than her guardsmen, she did not think anyone would notice that she was missing. Leastways, not immediately.
“No. Best we follow orders directly,” Hakeem decided, thank the gods!
It seemed like forever that they lay in their uncomfortable positions on the floor. Only occasionally could she make out the conversations taking place outside on the terrace. The name Mylonas came up a few times, but more often it was ad-Dawlah. That latter fit in with their earlier mention of Baghdad.
An awful prospect occurred to Drifa then. What if they took her to that city in the midst of Arab lands? She might never be found.
She knew her guardsmen, if they were allowed to live, would initiate a search immediately and mayhap even draw in the emperor, though gods only knew if he was in on this scheme. And her father would of course come with an army, but by the time word was sent to him, and he made the return journey, sennights, even months would have passed. Her fate might be sealed by then.
Sidroc ... he was her only chance, she decided. Please, Thor, and Odin, and even the One-God, let Sidroc return soon and care enough to look for me. And let these men leave my guardsmen and Ianthe alive, she prayed.
When nightfall finally came, Hakeem, still masked but identifiable by his height, approached her with a vial of amber liquid. He took off her gag and ordered her, “Drink this.”
“Is it poison?”
He laughed. “Nay, ’tis just a sleeping draught ... to make you amenable on your journey.”
“Nay!” she said, and turned her head. “Please don’t do this.”
Hakeem took her chin in a bruising hold. “I can pinch your nose and force your mouth open, or you can drink willingly. Either you comply, or I kill off every person in this room, starting with the female jeweler.”
“If I cooperate, what will you do to the others?”
“Give them more of the sleep potion so they will not awaken until tomorrow. No one has seen us without our masks. So no need to kill them, but I will if I have to.”
Drifa opened her mouth immediately, and soon felt herself drifting off to sleep.
The next time she awakened it was to a loud, strident noise, “Gronk! Gronk! Gronk!” She soon realized that it was dark, and she was riding atop a camel, in front of a man ... Faisal, she was pretty sure, by the garlic smell of him.
“She awakens,” Faisal called out to Hakeem, on another camel.
The six camels holding her and the now unmasked Arab men halted, and she was lifted down. Her legs were weak and her knees folded, but Hakeem caught her with a curse at her “clumsiness.” Just as rude was the camel, who spat at her. She’d seen camels from a distance before. Not up close. She hadn’t realized what unpleasant creatures they could be. Smelly, for one thing, and they attracted hordes of flies.
In Greek, Hakeem advised her, as if she were a petulant girling, not a kidnapped woman, to go into some nearby bushes and relieve herself. When she returned, he ordered Faisal, “Give her more to drink.”
