CHAPTER 2

1236 - 1240 BUKHARA

Four years passed. Mahmoud Yalavach went to serve the Great Khan Ogodei in the Mongol capital, Karakorum, located south of Lake Baikal. Yalavach's son, Mas'ud Beg, was appointed by Ogodei to continue his father's work. Ahmad grew to young manhood, tall, lean and handsome, proudly cultivating the black beard worn by all Muslim men.

It was early Spring in 1236 and, in the square outside the Shahristan, the caravans of camels and horses were assembling and preparing to depart on the long and hazardous journey on the Silk Road across Asia, laden with rich fabrics, gold and jewels mined in the Pamirs. The city of Bukhara, grown prosperous in peacetime, was vibrant and alive as winter loosened its grip and warmth flooded Transoxania.

Bailio Mas'ud Beg continued to fulfil his duties as tax collector for the Il-Khan Chaghatai, who perpetually demanded more and more funds to finance his forays in protecting his ill-defined borders against Berke Khan, the leader of the Golden Horde, and Kaidu Khan, ruler of middle Asia. He frequently travelled to the other major regional capitals of Samarkand, Merv and by river to Khiva.

On his return from one of these expeditions he called Ahmad to his presence in his private chambers. Decorated in the Arabic style of high, multi-coloured ceramic tiled arches and large windows, the rooms were brights and airy. Dressed in a light blue linen shirt, baggy pantaloons and upturned-at-the-toe sandals, his long dark hair tucked under a white turban, he had an impressive and commanding appearance.

Ahmad felt curiosity and expectation as he made his bow to his master and mentor. Mas'ud bid him sit on the cushions supplied and sat beside him, offering him dates and water.

"My Lord, how may I serve you?" Ahmad's curiosity got the better of him.

"Ah, Ahmad, you haven't changed, have you? Always wanting to come to the point, eh?"

"As My Lord wishes." Ahmad's voice was deep and silky, his dark eyes unafraid to look into those of his master's.

"Very well, You are a young man now and it is time that you entered the world of men. Your teachers inform me you are an alert and intelligent scholar and your aptitude with figures is of a high standard. That is excellent. It is now time for you to put to practical experience all you have learned. I intend to put you on my staff of civil servants as a junior tax collector. You will accompany one of my bailiffs as he carries out his duties. But first, you should familiarise yourself with Bukhara. It is, I am fully aware, a number of years since you had your freedom, and you were but a child then. The city has expanded rapidly since then and you should know all the districts with all their ethnic groups. You should also know where not to go in the city, especially the areas where the Mongol military frequent. Now, how does that appeal to you?"

"My Lord does me great honour." Ahmad bowed where he sat, price swelling in his breast. He sat for a moment, thinking. "May I ask a question, My Lord?"

"Go ahead."

"My Lord, what of the other boys who were captured with me - what are your plans for them?"

"Why do you ask, Ahmad?"

"Because I wish to keep in touch with them. We are bothers in misfortune."

"Indeed. To satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you. Ali is to become one of my Saracen guardsmen. He already is an expert horseman, and I wish him to tutor you in the art before you travel throughout the City. My tax collectors need a military escort to ride around town in safety. When he is ready, he will become a bodyguard for my taxmen. Fu'ad, as you know, is already an adept scribe and will learn secretarial duties for me. Hassan has proved to be invaluable at the maintenance of the Shahristan and will one day be chief administrator of staff. And Farouk, ah, yes, Farouk. An excellent chef. He has already been transferred, at the request of Chaghatai, to the Fortress's kitchens. He will also be employed by me for - ah - certain purposes - ". Ahmad allowed a deep chuckle to escape his throat in understanding. "I see you know already the use of Saracens in alien strongholds! And so, you see, I have kept my father's promise. If you serve me well, and I have no doubt that you will, you will be richly rewarded. And who knows - perhaps, when the time comes, a wife ..." Mas'ud looked obliquely at Ahmad to see his reaction.

"My Lord!" Ahmad was shocked. My only wish is to serve you. I have not looked at a woman, nor have I beheld any of your wives or concubines."

"Perhaps, then, as a gesture of my goodwill towards you and all the hard studying you have endured since coming into my palace, that omission shall be amended. In the meantime ..." he clapped his hands three times and a black Nubian slave, taller by a head than Ahmad, entered. "Eunuch, I command you to escort Ahmad around the centre of Bukhara today. You know the places of interest. Now, Ahmad, go with him. He will protect you but I warn you, do not stray from his side. The city is a dangerous place, even in broad daylight."

Ahmad rose to his feet and bowed to Mas'ud as he left his presence.

The big black slave, dressed only in a loincloth, muscles rippling as he walked, ushered Ahmad across the forecourt. They approached the Gate of the Spice Sellers. The massive wooden gates of the Shahristan were permanently closed and guarded at all times. The slave produced a metal seal and showed the passcard to the guardians of the gate. One of them opened a side door in the gate and all the sights and sounds, previously heard by Ahmad only as a distant noise, assailed him.

The marketplace was alive with bustling humanity, selling their wares of fruit, vegetables, fabrics, spices, even hay. Camels complained about the weights they were being asked to carry, donkeys brayed and Arabian horses tossed their proud heads as they high-stepped daintily through the streets, their high-born Saracen riders surveying the scene with lofty disdain. It was hot and dusty in the marketplace, but Ahmad was unaware of any discomfort, oblivious even of the buzzing camel flies and stinging mosquitoes, so absorbed was he in the sights, sounds and music of Islamic Bukhara. They stopped and watched a snake charmer hypnotise his snake with music from his flute, then they made their way down to the blue Oxus River, the docks full of river traffic which travelled upstream towards Khiva and onwards to the Aral Sea, the treasures of the Far East being transported onwards for the eager Persian trade. Small ferryboats plied their way across the river to the other sectors of Bukhara, their hulls loaded with people or produce.

At one of the bazaars Ahmad stopped in amazement. Men and women were being paraded for sale on a platform. The men were standing naked, some were fair-skilled, some brown and some black and some were standing apart; they too were naked but there was nothing to show from a distance what sex they were, or had been. Fascinated despite himself and despite his eunuch companion, Ahmad pressed forward into the crowd. As he approached he saw the answer to his unspoken question. Where the genitals had been there was a straw-like protuberance. Eyes wide in amazement, Ahmad turned to his companion. "Buba, is that all that you have - down there?"

"Yes, massa. After they - cut -" Buba supplied the gesture - "they put the straw in. If you can pass water within three days, you live. If not ..." He made a throat-cutting gesture.

"Allan preserve us!" Ahmad shuddered and quickly moved on, his left hand surreptitiously brushing himself in assurance.

Across from the platform with the male slaves were the female slaves. Ahmad pushed his way through the tightly packed crowds to be near the front. Sheltered as he had been for so many years from female society, Ahmad's eyes feasted on the hourglass shapes of the young women exhibited there. Unlike the men, they were clad in pantaloons similar to those Ahmad was wearing, but more revealingly diaphanous. Their midriffs were bare with jewels in their navels, and they wore colourful coverings on their breasts with tassels dangling invitingly. Their faces were uncovered, their hair shining in the afternoon sunlight, unlike the Muslim women in the marketplace, who were clothing from head to toe, yashmaks covering all but their eyes. Ahmad's healthy interest took a visible form. Buba, standing beside him, observed the reaction and started to laugh. "Ah, massa, you want to ..." and he thrust his hips suggestively. Alarmed at his body's betrayal, Ahmad covered himself with his hands. He had never seen an almost naked female before, not had his body ever made itself obvious before. He was breathing fast and his head was pounding. Something else was pounding, too. Unable to tear himself away, he watched the bidding for a particularly beautiful red-haired girl. Rich Arab merchants vied for her possession. The price rose rapidly and the auctioneer finally closed at 100 dirhams.

Yet another scantily-clad nubile girl was paraded across the platform, further inflaming Ahmad's desire. He stood transfixed. Buba was becoming impatient and he tugged at his charge's arm. Ahmad gasped as he suddenly climaxed. He looked down, shocked at what had just happened, as it had never happened before. He turned quickly and pushed his was through the pressing crowds, his hand covering his embarrassment. Buba ran after him and stopped him. "Massa, it nothing to be ashamed of - you a man now!" and he slapped Ahmad heartily on the back, laughing loudly. "Come, I take you to walls of town - they double walls, you see all round ..."

Eventually Ahmad calmed down and the visual evidence of his misadventure disappeared. They walked to the city walls via the irrigation canals which dispersed through the streets and bazaars, the constantly flowing water carrying effluent to the river. When they reached one of the main Gates they climbed the steps onto the ramparts and there was the whole of Bukhara beneath them with the massive edifices of the Mosque with its blue dome and many minarets pointing skywards, the stark lines of the citadel with its fortifications and the very Turkish architecture of the Shahristan, its domes and turrets aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

Retracting their steps, they walked past the large open reservoirs, one situated near the market place, another near the Mongol fortress. These, too, were buzzing with flies, as at one end were situated structures for ablutions. Suddenly there was a commotion as a troop of Mongol horsemen clattered in. They dismounted at the ablutions and tore the doors open. Ahmad felt his shoulder being grasped as a Mongol pushed him violently out of the way. He stumbled and fell in the dust. Outraged, he made to carry out a reprisal action on the Mongol now availing himself of the facilities, but Buba stepped in front of him, restraining him. "No, massa. They have weapons, you be killed. Come, we go elsewhere." Ahmad's dark eyes flashed in rage, but he was sane enough to see the wisdom of his companion's words. It was then that Ahmad saw him, the one who was obviously the troop's commander, sitting on a richly decorated Steppe pony. It was Tegana! Tegana was back in town! Ahmad stopped in his tracks. Buba was tugging at his sleeve. "Come, massa, we go away from here!" Reluctantly, Ahmad followed him. Buba led the way in the gathering gloom back to the Shahristan, and as they walked Ahmad's thoughts were racing ...

---oo0oo---

Night fell and Ahmad was anxious to make contact with the other boys who all bore a vow of vengeance against Tegana. First, however, he had to report back to the Bailio.

Mas'ud was waiting for him. "Well, Ahmad, Buba tells me you had a spot of bother with the Mongols this afternoon." Ahmad had not told Buba he had recognised Tegana, so Mas'ud was unaware of Ahmad's deeper thoughts.

Ahmad had no intention of enlightening him. "My Lord, one of them pushed me to the ground. I should have ..."

"Stay well away from them, Ahmad. I know you bear a grudge, and who can blame you for the atrocities of that night, but I don't want you killed. You can avenge yourself in many other ways. Now, tonight is special. Tonight, I have received a number of discarded concubines from Chaghatai. They are, he assures me, unused. The former Caliph of Merv, Abu Iban, has arrived on a personal visit. In his honour I intend to have a banquet and you and the other boys are invited to be my guests. There will be wine, music and dancing. Oh, yes, I think you will like the dancing ..."

---oo0oo---

Abu Iban, ex-ruler of the town of Merv, situated 200 miles south-west of Bukhara, was a man in his mid-40s. He was received with all due ceremony by his host. Ahmad admired his long, flowing red gown embroidered in gold thread. Iban's turban had a conic crown, the cone extending some six inches above his head. There was a bright ruby glinting in the turban's folds.

The cushions in the banqueting hall were soft and comfortable. Even Farouk, sent at Mas'ud's request from the citadel kitchens, was there. Although Ahmad was bursting with his news, he had to wait until later to speak to all his cronies together. Although he was bursting with impatience, he knew that there would be time. The food was excellent, the wine heady, the music pleasing to the ear. The conversation grew louder and louder as the unfamiliar, intoxicating drink went to their heads. The laughter grew more raucous. Then, when the meal was over, Mas'ud clapped his hands twice and the candles were snuffed out. Slowly, the musicians started to play and the silhouette of a sinuous female form weaved her body to the haunting music. Candles were relit as she dipped and turned in an exotic dance. As the music reached a climax she dropped one of the seven diaphanous veils she wore round her nubile body. Ahmad turned to look at his cronies. Their eyes were glinting in the rays of the candles. Ahmad, sitting cross-legged on the cushions, felt again a rising interest. One by one the veils dropped. She danced sinuously towards them, swaying her hips tantalisingly inches from Ahmad's face. For a fleeting moment Ahmad saw through the veils as she dropped one over Ahmad's bearded and perspiring face. The pounding started within him, suffusing his whole body. He burned his face in the veil, smelling the perfumed woman-smell. The last veil fell and the lights went out ...

All the while, Buba's words echoed in Ahmad's mind "You a man now! You a man now!" Ahmad was very grateful that he was seated, his flowing robes concealing his obtrusive reaction. As the candles were relit, Ahmad saw Mas'ud, seated next to the Caliph, lean over and whisper in his hear "She is yours for tonight!" and heard the lascivious chuckle emitted from the Caliph's throat. All Ahmad had that night was one of the seven veils.

---oo0oo---

The next morning Ahmad was summoned into the Bailio Beg's presence. His chief wife, Camilla, was by his side. Ahmad now looked at women in a new way, and his dark eyes flickered over her body appraisingly. "Ahmad!" Mas'ud's voice cut into his imaginative thoughts. "My Lord!" Ahmad made abeyance. "Ahmad, you will start working for me somewhat sooner than I anticipated. Now listen to your instructions." Mas'ud's voice was different towards Ahmad, authoritative, commanding. "The servant who collects taxed from the Saracen district fell off his horse yesterday - a spot of bother with the tenants - and he has a broken leg. You are to take his place today."

Ahmad smiled at the unexpected opportunity offered him. The smile did not go unnoticed by Camilla, who was carrying out her own inspection of the tall, bearded young man standing proudly before her husband.

Mas'ud was still talking. "You will be accompanied by an armed guard led by your friend Ali. Take this seal - it is the token of your authority. If anyone refuses to pay you are at liberty to seize any items of equivalent worth to the one dirham per month every sitting tenant owes. Do you understand?"

"I do, My Lord."

"Very well. You will be paid 50 fals per day. Your guard is ready in the forecourt. Here is the coffer and its key. Wear the key round your neck at all times. Now, go and Allah be with you!"

Ahmad bowed to Mas'ud and his wife, his eyes making contact with hers. Did he see interest there?

He strode out to start his working life.

---oo0oo---

Ahmad soon discovered that it was no easy matter extracting money from the populace, whether or not they were fellow-Saracens. Many of the people were living a hand-to-mouth existence, scarcely scraping a living in the highly competitive marketplaces of Bukhara.

Riding his black, mettlesome Arabian stallion through the streets brought jeers of jealousy and derision from the common folk, and frequently Ali had to protect his friend when rotting fruit and excrement were hurled at them. Ahmad was, however, proud of his new position and kept up appearances by wearing rich clothes which Mas'ud gave him to wear in his official capacity as Collector of Taxes.

Inevitably, Ahmad came into contact with the seamier side of life in his excursions throughout the town. He soon learned that there were more ways of collecting tribute taxes than by money alone. With the impressive armoury that Ali and his cohort wore, many would-be bribers soon discovered that they were in no position to demand anything. Ahmad also quickly realised that it was not always necessary, in balancing the books, to declare bartered items. Frequently, being given a bartered item worth more than the tax amount, he converted it to money and kept the remainder. As long as the stipulated amount was going into the Treasury's coffers, no complaints were made.

As with every large city, Bukhara had its fair share of houses of ill repute. Inevitably Ahmad, in the course of his collection tour, crossed the threshold of such a house. When the entourage stopped outside, the guards accompanying Ahmad left him in no doubt about the function of the place. With two of the guards and Ali by his side, Ahmad entered.

The air was heavy with heady perfumes of the Orient, burning Joss-sticks and other, less easily defined, aromas. Inside, the main room was decorated with rich red curtains draped around the walls. The scantily dressed women lolled on cushions and chairs and turned their doe-like eyes towards their unexpected, but not unwelcome, visitors.

"Who owns this house?" Ahmad demanded.

An older, well-rounded woman, slightly less painted than the others, unwound herself from the cushion she was sitting on.

"Who wants to know, ducky?" her voice was coarse, her attitude unafraid.

"I am Ahmad, Collector of Taxes for the Bailio Beg."

"Oooh, really?" she pouted. "Go ahead, then, choose your collection!" and she gestured expansively towards the younger women.

Ahmad's mind raced, his interest rising. Judging by the direction of the ladies' eyes, the face did not escape their notice, either. He had to clear his throat before saying "You owe the Bailio one dirham per occupant of the house. That makes ..." he made a swift count of languishing female bodies - "Twelve dirhams."

The procurer laughed raucously. "They don't all live here, ducky! They're my guests, come to visit me!"

"Oh. Well, how many do live here?"

"Only me, ducky, only me."

Ahmad looked questioningly towards Ali, who shrugged his shoulders. The expression in Ahmad's eyes changed to that of "A lot of help you are!" He had to make his own decision. "Very well. If that is the case, one dirham is the sum you owe."

"You sure you wouldn't prefer to have - ah - payment in kind?" Again she indicated the girls, all of whose eyes were fastened onto Ahmad's anatomy, which only, and intentionally, increased his uneasiness.

"One dirham, if you please!" Ahmad's hand was out to receive the coin.

"Oh, very well - but you know where we are, ducky!" and she tossed the coin towards him. He caught it deftly, spun on his heel and quickly walked out into the sunshine, breathing heavily. The patrol guards took one look at him and roared with laughter.

Ahmad felt his temper rising. He turned angrily to Ali, his dark eyes flashing. "I will not tolerate such an outburst from those under your command. If you are unable to control your own men, I will have no hesitation but to inform the Bailio, who will doubtless find it necessary to remove your command forthwith. Do I make myself clear?"

Chastened, Ali bowed an apology. "Yes, my Lord. It will not happen again, my Lord."

They continued their daily task in a strained silence, but Ahmad's mind kept returning to thoughts of women. There had been one girl there who had particularly caught his eye ...

---oo0oo---

Back at the Palace, Ahmad worked late into the night completing his book-keeping for the day's amount collected. He found difficulty in concentrating on the figures, which danced before his eyes in the candlelight. The image of the girl he had seen kept returning to haunt him. He wanted her, but he did not know how he could get her. Finished at last, he called for Buba, who prepared a bath for him and supplied clean clothing.

Buba had a good relationship with his younger master. He noticed that Ahmad was even more quiet and withdrawn than usual. After the eunuchs had brought Ahmad a late meal, Buba chose his moment. "Is there something worrying you, my Lord?"

Ahmad, sitting at a table, was relaxed and replete. "What? Oh, no, Buba. Nothing that I can't solve, anyway, one way or another." he smiled wryly.

Buba decided to be persistent. "My Lord, may I respectfully ask - is it a woman?"

Ahmad jerked his head towards Buba, anger tugging at him at the man's impertinence. Suddenly, he relented and turned away, staring pensively at his fingers. "How did you guess, Buba? Is it that obvious?"

"My Lord, you are young, healthy, with a man's needs. Is it the dancer last night?"

"Yes, her, and - somebody else I saw today. Unfortunately, she is ..." he hesitated to even say it - "she is a whore."

Buba threw his head back and laughed loudly. Again Ahmad felt a surge of anger. Why did everybody laugh at him like that? "BUBA!" Buba's laughter ceased abruptly. "It is no laughing matter. I - have a problem. Can you help me solve it, Buba? You will be rewarded, I promise you."

"My Lord, there is much danger. These women - they hold men under magic spells that they can never break free of. You are a Government official - do not endanger your position of trust, my Lord."

Ahmad pondered. It was clear to him that Buba could not, or would not, have anything to do with it. As ever, he was on his own. "All right. I understand and appreciate your advice. Leave me now." Buba bowed and left quietly.

Half an hour later Ahmad, covered in a full-length black cloak and hood, swiftly walked the streets of Bukhara towards the brothel. He had no idea that he was being followed.

---oo0oo---

The taverns of night-time Bukhara were in full swing with the sound of exotic music and singing. Drunks poured out into the streets, jostling each others, shouting and singing obscene songs. Ahmad pushed past them, a dark figure blending with the dark shadows. He could wait no longer, he had to find her ...

He pushed the beaded curtain out of his way, dipping his head under the low archway. The older woman was there, waiting for customers. When she saw Ahmad she jumped to her feet. "Ah! Back again after all, ducky!"

Ahmad, suddenly embarrassed again, hesitated.

"Well, who is it that you want, ducky?"

"The - the girl with the fair hair and blue eyes."

"You can give me back that one dirham I gave you this morning!" she asserted, her hand extended towards him to receive the coin. He scrabbled in his purse and produced the coin. She bit it to ensure its authenticity, then clapped her hands twice. The girl appeared. "Customer for you, lovie. See you treat him well, now!" and she laughed suggestively.

Wordlessly, the girl took Ahmad's hand and led him through to a small room. She closed the curtain across the entrance. The room was poorly lit and stuffy, strong perfume barely masking the smells of love and dirtiness.

Suddenly Ahmad was afraid. He knew what he wanted but did not know how to go about getting it. Roughly, Ahmad pulled her to him in a crushing embrace, his left hand clumsily groping her anatomy. "No!" with difficulty she pulled back from him. "Don't hurt me!" she said, loudly and clearly, but in a foreign accent. She pulled open a tatty curtain, revealing the cushioned bed. "First," she said appeasingly, "First, I will dance for you, no?"

Ahmad was breathing heavily, his impatience reaching fever pitch. "Very well." he spoke huskily. "Dance the Seven Veils for me." and he sat on the cushioned bed. Without the benefit of music, the girl's body swayed and undulated before him, driving him crazy with desire. The veils fell one by one, first to reveal her face, then her legs, then each pink breast. As each veil was removed, Ahmad hurriedly removed a part of his own clothing - his shoes, his turban, his cloak, his undershirt. When the dance reached its climax, both stood naked before each other. Her eyes widened at his enormous, engorged organ as he stepped forward and pressed his hardness against her. She realised by his awkward groping that he had never made love before. He pushed her roughly onto the cushions and desperately tried to find his way. Understanding, she reached down and, as he gasped in surprise, she guided him in. He became lost in his need, taking her again and again to satisfy his new-found sexuality. At last, slumped over her and still in her, he fell asleep. She waiting till she was sure, then extricated herself from him. As he slept she had an opportunity of looking at him. Quite young, she reckoned, obviously inexperienced in the act of love, but he had a strong, handsome face, even in repose. He turned onto his back in his sleep, moaning slightly. She continued her candlelit inspection, unable to resist touching him, caressing the dark hair on his chest, his stomach, his lean hips, and on downwards, the slight of his lengthy nakedness exciting her so much that she continued her caressing and was gratified to see his reaction. As his body awakened, so did he as she straddled him, swaying backwards and forwards in her own ecstasy. They cried out together this time, arms and legs entwined. During the rest of the night, he learned many different ways to love.

The grey light of dawn was on the horizon when he left their bed. He could have stayed there for ever, died of love in her arms. Instead, he went with a promise that he would return that night.

Dressing hurriedly, he suddenly realised he had a long way to go to return to the Palace before breakfast and he had no transport to get him there. With a last kiss and rib-crushing hug he left her and ran - ran through the streets, already alive with early morning traders heading towards the marketplace to set up their stalls for the day's trading. A little distance behind him, and still unknown to him, a dark figure followed.

Night after night he returned, using her to exhaustion. His appetite became insatiable. When he tired of her, he discarded her like an empty shall and tried another girl, then another, sometimes using two girls a night to satisfy his outrageous desires and lusts.

Once a year Mas'ud personally carried out an audit on his tax collectors' books. It was then that he discovered an increasing amount of obvious errors in Ahmad's figures. Early one morning, when Mas'ud sent a messenger to request Ahmad's immediate presence in order to explain the discrepancies, Mas'ud became angry at the length of time it took Ahmad to make an appearance. He called for Buba. When the big black slave arrived, he asked "Buba, where is Ahmad? I called for him half an hour ago and still he has not appeared." Buba shifted feet, his head bowed. "Well? Answer me!"

"Massa, I sorry but he - he not here, massa!"

"What! Then where is he?"

"He out seeing a lady, massa. Massa, don't be angry with Buba!" he quailed when he saw Mas'ud's reaction. "Massa, I tell him not to go, but he go anyway. I follow, make sure he all right!"

"Ah! This is ridiculous! How long has this been going on? You should have told me a long time ago about this, Buba, I am most displeased with you!" Mas'ud stormed out and strode over to Ahmad's quarters, a book-keeping folio under his arm. He burst open the wooden door and found the room empty, so he sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room, and waited.

A short time later Ahmad, dressed in white turban, silk shirt and blue pantaloons, returned from his nightly sojurn, dark rings under his eyes and a crooked smile of satisfaction on his lips. In the early light, he did not see the dark figure sitting, waiting, eyes glittering in anger. Unaware of his watcher, Ahmad pleasured himself as he recalled his newfound sexual prowess, admiring the results of his manipulation. He has surpassed himself that night by taking three girls in three different ways and drinking a whole pot of the forbidden koumiss. Mas'ud took in Ahmad's dishevelled appearance, the reek of cheap perfume and smell of koumiss emanating from him, and drew the obvious conclusions. He watched silently while Ahmad, swaying drunkenly, removed his turban and shirt then, reaching into his pantaloons, prepared to relieve himself as he staggered towards a sanded receptacle in a corner. Mas'ud caught a glimpse of the prodigious length Ahmad revealed. Mas'ud stood up quickly. "Ahmad!"

"Ah!" Ahmad jumped in fright, hastily concealing himself as he turned to face the interloper. "My Lord! I ..." Ahmad made a clumsy attempt at the customary formal abeyance, a note of surprise in his slurred voice.

Mas'ud's voice was trembling with scarcely controlled anger. "Are you mad, Ahmad? You're drunk! Have the Mullahs' teachings of the Holy Koran meant nothing to you? You know it is forbidden to take intoxicating drink! If I had been an Assassin - and that is precisely how they kill a man, by waiting until he is defenceless and easy to murder - you would be lying dead in a pool of blood by now. You shame me! I want an explanation, Ahmad, and I want it now! Why are you drunk?"

"I needed to relax, my Lord Bailio." His voice was tired and cracked, his internal discomfort, having been abruptly denied relief, was unbearable. Pressing himself hard to ease the mounting pressure, he indicated the pot in the corner. "I also need - something else! Do you mind if I ...?"

"No, Ahmad, you may not! I am talking to you! Stand to attention! You have also been out whoring. Do not deny it." Mas'ud was pacing, angrily. "Ahmad, I do not wish my tax collectors to be associating with these - women." He spat out the word, revealing all his abhorrence.

Ahmad's bladder was bursting. A dark stain appeared from inside his pants. Oh, Allah! He was doing it! He had to hold it in! He would only disgrace himself further if he could not. But, in his intoxicated state, he could not contain himself any longer. He felt it coming, then warm wetness running down his leg. He held himself tightly again, but the dark stain spread down his pantaloons.

"You disappoint me greatly, Ahmad. My father took you in, fed, clothed and educated you and now I've given you a job, a position of great trust and honour, and now this" he gestured disgustedly, his back turned to Ahmad, "is how you repay me! Your work is suffering - do you realise that?" Ahmad said nothing. Standing forward into a shaft of daylight, Mas'ud opened one of Ahmad's daily Journals. "Look at this mistake - and this! You can no longer count two columns correctly, This is careless work and I will not have it, do you hear? You are forbidden to leave the Palace, and forbidden to bring any women in. Do you hear me?" Mas'ud suddenly noticed. "Allah preserve us, Ahmad - you're soiling yourself!"

"I know!" Ahmad said, tight-lipped. It was not dripping onto the floor, forming a pool at his left foot.

Mas'ud could no longer deny him and gestured permission. He was compelled to wait, his anger burning, while Ahmad, right hand on the wall to steady himself, relieved himself profusely into the pot. "You disgust me, Ahmad."

"My apologies, my Lord." Ahmad spoke over his shoulder. "Perhaps a little too much koumiss!"

"A little too much of everything, Ahmad. It would appear you are having great difficulty controlling that part of your anatomy!" Mas'ud commented wryly as Ahmad finished what he was doing and returned to stand before his master, a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Now, Ahmad, do you realise the kind of danger you are exposing yourself, and me, to?"

Ahmad thought it was a hint, checked himself out and was relieved to see that nothing was protruding. Mas'ud continued. "When you're drunk you don't know what you're saying and you may well reveal secrets and betray your friends. Allah alone knows what damage you have already done. You have behaved thoughtlessly and abysmally. I will not tolerate such behaviour in my staff." Ahmad, now cold sober, became sure that Mas'ud was going to throw him in a dungeon and leave him there to rot.

However, relenting somewhat, Mas'ud adopted a more lenient attitude. "Let this be a lesson to you. You have a great future ahead of you. Behave properly and I will ensure that you will never want for anything - including, when the time comes, wives. Do you understand me?"

"I do." Ahmad, who had felt dark despair at the denial of his pleasures, now experienced a ray of hope. "What may I do to serve my Lord?"

"Simply do your job and keep your body to yourself. You are young and lusty, I understand that. There is a time for everything in a man's life. For the moment, you must fulfil your duties. If you do that successfully, you will be handsomely rewarded. I am a generous man to those who give me their loyalty. I am confining you to your quarters for a week. Now, clean yourself up. You have many mistakes to amend. See to it that you do!"

From that day onwards, Ahmad never again drank alcohol.

---oo0oo---

During the course of his tax collection tours it was inevitable that Ahmad would come into contact with the underworld of Bukhara, who were equally intent on the tax collectors not upsetting their illicit trade. Although Ali and his Saracen troop had accompanied tax collectors on their rounds before, he could not anticipate the trouble that lay in wait for Ahmad.

---oo0oo---

The Arab merchant's house was sumptuous. Its exterior was exceedingly pleasing to the eye, with its high arches, minarets and blue ceramic tiling. Inside, the finest Persian carpets with the rarest designs adorned the floors, rich tapestries graced the walls and lamps, jade and willow pattern pottery from the Far East decorated the rooms.

Abu el-Shazam had made his money from the Silk Road. He had made the hazardous journey East a few years earlier and had discovered an easy way to financial independence and consumer dependence. He was a drug dealer. Opium from the East, hashish from Turkey, both items easily carried on the caravans travelling in either direction. As he bowed to his esteemed guest, he weighed up his chances of making another customer of him.

Preliminary greetings and hospitality over, Ahmad came to the point of his visit. "I have been ordered by the Bailio Beg to audit your books. This year's taxes are due to the Il-Khan Chaghatai and, with respect, is is considered that your contribution to the Mongol overlords is somewhat less than it should be." Ahmad felt el-Shazam's attitude change rapidly. "If you would be good enough to show me your accounts - I promise I will be as brief, and as lenient, as possible." el-Shazam, caught unawares, realised he had no alternative but to provide Ahmad with the necessary information, especially as Ahmad's Saracen guards were waiting outside.

Ahmad set to his task and soon realised that the manner in which this man was living was far in excess of the profits shown in the figures before him. Ahmad pursed his lips as he turned to his unwilling host. "I regret to say that there would appear to be discrepancies in the figures, Offendi." Ahmad's eyes slitted to watch el-Shazam's reaction. He was gratified to see beads of sweat spring forth on the man's brow. "Might I enquire," he continued, relentlessly, "how you have come about such obvious riches?"

Becoming obsequious, el-Shazam said "My Lord Ahmad, I am sure we could come to some sort of - ah - arrangement?" Ahmad raised an eyebrow but said nothing. el-Shazam gauged Ahmad's reaction as compliance and continued. "If you care to - ah - overlook the very minor discrepancies you may find, I will be prepared to offer you a small token of my gratitude."

"What form would this "token" take, Offendi?"

el-Shazam walked over to a cupboard, opened it with a key secreted round his neck, and brought out a leather pouch, heavy with money. "Shall we say - a down payment, my Lord?" He offered it to Ahmad, who weight it in his hand. He was genuinely tempted by the offer of repeated, tax-free income.

In a flash of insight, Ahmad realised that it would be advantageous for him to be in the position of being able to demand 'hush' money on a regular basis. He thought quickly. "Bribing a Government official? A serious offence, Offendi! I have heard that the dungeons of the Mongol stronghold are, shall we say, unpleasant." Ahmad's dark eyes were cold, unreadable.

For the first time el-Shazam felt a pang of fear for the tall man standing before him, but he noted that Ahmad was still holding the moneybag. "Shall we say - once a month, over and above, of course, my usual tax payment?"

"I believe we understand each other, Offendi." Ahmad pocketed the pouch. "Under the circumstances, I would be most interested to learn how you manage to earn such large amounts."

"By the caravans from the Orient, my Lord. As you know, silks and jades are in the greatest demand and there are, of course, other things that people find they cannot do without ..."

"Oh? Such as?" Ahmad's insatiable curiosity led him on.

"Opium and hashish, my Lord."

Ahmad's interest quickened. "I see. You will introduce me to your dealers!"

el-Shazam realised he had made a serious mistake in informing this man of his illicit drug-dealing. If he met all the contacts, he could quite easily extort the whole drug-dealing syndicate. el-Shazam thought quickly. "Such a meeting would take a little time to arrange, my Lord."

"That is not a problem. Attend to it and notify me of the time and place. I shall be there." So saying, Ahmad swept out of the house.

el-Shazam, deep in thought, watched him go.

That night el-Shazam sent messengers to river boat captains, caravan masters and other drug dealers. Deep in the night, ten men in dark cloaks slipped quietly through the empty streets of Bukhara and converged on the house of el-Shazam. A private meeting took place.

When all were present, el-Shazam opened the meeting. "A serious problem has cropped up, gentlemen. The Balio Mas'ud Beg has appointed a new tax collector for this area. He visited me today and he has uncovered our business. I have already paid him handsomely to turn a blind eye to our business, but he demands a regular payment. He also wants to meet you all. I suspect - he wants to take control ..." a murmur arose from many throats. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Kill him!" Faisal, the ship's captain with a large, bushy beard said, banging the table with a massive fist.

"Yes, kill him!" the rest of the meeting agreed.

"But, gentlemen, I would remind you that there will be another sent from the Bailio to take his place. If we kill him, too, then eventually we will be discovered and all our riches confiscated for the rapacious Khan's coffers. No, better to lose a little of our income and independence than lose it all."

"Perhaps ..." Faisal stroked his beard pensively. "Perhaps there is another way ..."

---oo0oo---

The following morning, Mas'ud Beg summoned Ahmad to his presence.

"Ahmad, I have a problem. Chaghatai Khan is demanding more and more tribute from the populace to help finance his border warfare against his brothers. Have you any idea how we can raise more money?"

"My Lord, I do."

Mas'ud leaned forward. "You do? How?"

"I have uncovered a considerable industry in the illicit trafficking of drugs. The dealers are very rich and becoming ever richer. I have arranged a meeting with them to discuss the position, but I believe we could extract an additional tax from these men."

"Do you consider these men dangerous?"

"That is a distinct possibility, my Lord."

"Very well. Take whatever precautions are necessary to ensure your safety, Ahmad."

"I will, my Lord. There is just one thing ..."

"Yes?"

"These men are, as I have said, very rich. In order that I can have adequate power over them, I must be seen to be of independent financial means."

"I feel sure that Chaghatai Khan will authorise me to adequately reward you for uncovering this lucrative source of taxation, Ahmad!"

---oo0oo---

The next night Ahmad, accompanied only by Ali and a trusted soldier, set out for el-Shazam's house. It was a moonless night, still and dark. In order not to draw attention to themselves, they all wore long, hooded robes. Ali, shorter and squarer of build than Ahmad, walked slightly ahead and the young soldier, similar in build to Ahmad, walked beside him. They walked quickly through the town, past the reservoir, and down by the canal to the River Oxus. The main square was alive with revellers and music spilled from every tavern door. As they approached the docks, Ali became suddenly aware of a rowdy group of Mongols approaching them. Poorly dressed and reeking of koumiss, they capered and quarrelled amongst themselves, all the time coming nearer. Casually they spread across the narrow street, blocking the way forward. Suddenly alarmed, Ali and his soldier began to draw their swords. Ahmad was unarmed. Before their swords were properly unsheathed the gang attacked them. Punching and kicking, Ali and his soldier did all in their power to protect Ahmad, but in the melee Ahmad saw the glint of a Mongol knife. The young soldier saw it, too, and moved in front of Ahmad. The knife flashed and the soldier grunted. Caught off balance, Ahmad stumbled and, as the knife flashed again, he felt a hot pain in his side. He sank to the ground. Before he lost consciousness, he was dimly aware of a body falling heavily across him, then there was blackness.

He came to, a deadweight across his legs. He tried to move and a searing pain caught him in the side. He felt a sticky wetness in his shirt and pantaloons. He held his hand to his side and saw it was soaked with blood. The young soldier lay over him, eyes staring at the stars, a stab wound to his heart still oozing blood. Ali was on his hands and knees, stunned but recovering from the vicious attack.

Ahmad tried to free himself from under the dead soldier, but the movement only made the wound worse. "Ali - get - help! I've - been stabbed!" Ahmad said, gasping with pain. "Hurry - el-Shazam's house - over there!" Ahmad indicated el-Shazam's house nearby.

Ali got unsteadily to his feet and staggered the short distance to the candlelit door. el-Shazam opened the door to the soldier's frantic pounding. "Help, please!" he pleaded. "My Lord Ahmad - over there!"

In the darkness, Ali noticed el-Shazam's eyes open in surprise and heard an oath escape his lips before he turned into his house and called for assistance. el-Shazam and two of his slaves emerged and ran across the street to where Ahmad lay. Uncaring of his wound, they lifted him roughly into the house. el-Shazam then summoned one of his wives to attend to the injured men. Hurriedly he retired to another secluded room and called a syndicate meeting to order. "It would appear, Offendi, that our venture has been unsuccessful. The Lord Ahmad at present lies seriously wounded in this house, receiving attention from one of my wives."

"Couldn't the bungling oafs do anything right?" growled Faisal, baring his teeth in anger.

"It would not do for an official of Mas'ud Beg to die in this house, Faisal. All possible will be done to save his life. Then, he will feel a moral obligation towards the house of el-Shazam. We will have slightly more room for negotiation than first anticipated. If he survives, I feel sure that he will still wish to consult with us. Until then, go about your business in the usual manner."

The traders, grumbling, left the house.

When the Mongols had attacked, they had slashed open Ahmad's waist to his ribs. He was losing a lot of blood and slipped in and out of consciousness. Ali, who was only bruised, sat with his friend all night as the woman worked to staunch the flow of blood. She bound the wound with a compress of herbs and moss and gradually the bleeding stopped. Ali, satisfied that Ahmad was in safe hands, returned to the Shahristan to report what had happened, then, with Mas'ud's permission, returned to Ahmad's side. During the night Ahmad developed a wound-induced fever and started tossing in delirium. Alarmed, Ali woke up el-Shazam, who ordered his wife to again attend to the sick man. For two days he slipped in and out of consciousness as the infection in the wound in his side took hold. Dimly he was aware of gentle hands soothing his fevered brow with cooling cloths, dressing his wound and attending his needs.

Ali was compelled to return to his duties at the Shahristan, leaving Ahmad alone. He was unhappy about the arrangement and worried about his friend's health. He plucked up his courage and requested an audience with Mas'ud Beg. "My Lord, with your permission?" Ali bowed in deference as Mas'ud indicated he may sit on the cushion beside him.

"How is Ahmad, Section Leader?" enquired Mas'ud.

"My Lord, I am worried about his safety. He is at the moment seriously ill with fever and helpless to defend himself."

"But he is in the house of a good Saracen tradesman, is he not?"

"He is in the house of el-Shazam, my Lord."

"Oh, I see." Mas'ud recalled their previous conversation. "Do you know how soon he can be brought here?"

"The wound in his side is still festering, my Lord. Any movement would worsen his condition."

"Who is attending to him?"

"The women of the house of el-Shazam, my Lord. That is my concern. The wives are adept at cures and potions, but it would be a simple matter for someone to give him a drink from which he would never awake."

"As soon as he can travel, send a palanquin to carry him home. I the meantime, see to it that he is guarded at all times. I have already invested too much time and money in him to lose him this way. You have my leave to attend to it personally, Ali.

"My Lord, thank you."

---oo0oo---

For a while it was touch and go whether Ahmad would survive that night but, during the following morning, Ahmad's fever broke and he relaxed into a healing sleep.

He awoke to the feeling of a cooling cloth on his brow. The wound in his side was throbbing painfully and he groaned, holding his hand against the injury. He felt the bandages which held a compress tightly in place. He opened his eyes. The room was dark and it was quiet outside. He felt very weak. A woman, seated nearby, was dressed in the Muslim fashion, with a yashmak over her face and only her eyes visible. The could not see whether she was young or old. When she saw he was conscious she came over to his bedside and placed a fresh, cool cloth on his brow.

"Thank you." he said to her, weakly.

"Do not move, Offendi, or you will start the bleeding again." she said.

"Water - thirsty."

She placed a flask to his lips and raised his head. He drank greedily. "Enough, enough!" she said, withdrawing the mouth of the flask from his lips. He coughed and winced in pain, sinking his head back onto the cushions with a groan. Exhausted, he slipped immediately back to sleep.

He was awakened again by an urgent call of nature. He noticed an earthenware pot within reach. He was not, however, alone. Another of el-Shazam's women sat watchfully nearby. Beneath the hide blanket covering him, he discovered he was naked. Acutely embarrassed, but driven by the necessity to ease himself, he reached out for the pot. The woman noticed his movements and, realising what he was doing, tactfully left the room while he made use of it under cover of the blanket. When she re-entered the room she had another pot with her and placed it within easy reach, removing the one he had used without embarrassment. The next morning he felt strong enough to eat and, despite the discomfort of his wound, he enjoyed the food he was given. His strength returned rapidly.

---oo0oo---

A few nights later he lay, dozing fitfully. His nurses, having given him a sleeping potion, had left him alone. Only Ali's Saracen guard stood protectively outside the sickroom. The womenfolk had become well used to a procession of sentries standing guard 24 hours a day and secretly enjoyed having strange men in the household. el-Shazam, however, did not. They were all costing him money. He had to feed Ahmad and he had to feed the sentries, too. He prayed to Allah that normality would soon be restored.

The sentry guarding the door shifted the weight on his feet and yawned. His eyes were so heavy. Maybe if he just closed them for a few moments ...

The small figure darted silently past the sentry, asleep on his feet, and entered Ahmad's quarters. A slight movement in the room wakened him and, peering into the darkness, he could see a woman's form standing near his bed.

"Hello!" he said, thinking it was one of el-Shazam's wives come to see if he was asleep.

"Oh!" the female form started in surprise and made to run off.

"Wait! Don't go!" he said softly. She stopped and turned back uncertainly towards him. His eyes could just discern her uncovered face. She wore a light, linen full-length shift, tied at her slim waist. She was young and he had not seen her in the house before. "Who are you?" he asked gently, hoping she would not run away.

"My name is Fatima, Offendi. This is my father's house. My apologies, Offendi - I - I should not be here." she stammered in awkward embarrassment.

"Then why did you come, Fatima?"

"My sister said you were handsome and I wanted to see ..."

He laughed softly, but it hurt his would and he groaned.

"You are not well, I will go now."

"No, stay. Come nearer. That's better." His eyes took in her nubile body and he felt his heart quicken. "Now, tell me, what else did your sister say about me?"

The innocence of youth made her speak frankly. "Oh, that you were nice and that she liked your voice."

"My voice!?" he said in genuine surprise, trying not to laugh again.

"You have a nice voice."

"Well, thank you, Fatima. Tell me, how old are you?"

"Fifteen, my Lord."

"And you are still unmarried?"

"Y-yes, my Lord."

"come closer to me, let me see your face, Fatima."

He raised the bedside candle to illuminate her face, and the soft candlelight revealed that, in his eyes, she was very beautiful. Despite his pain, he also felt his pleasure rising in the presence of beauty.

"Tell me, now you have seen me, do you think I am handsome?"

She laughed girlishly, turning her body this way and that. Her reaction was all the answer he needed.

"And I think you're beautiful, Fatima. Meeting you has been the best medicine I could have. Will you come to see me again?"

"Oh, my father would never permit it!" and abruptly she turned and ran off. Ahmad tried to call her back, but the pain in his side stopped him. He sank back onto the bed, smiling. Lost in thought, he did not sleep for a long time.

The following night he stayed awake in the hope that she would return. To his delight, she did.

A week after the attack he was well enough to travel. Ali organised the palanquin and soon Ahmad was back within the safety and confines of the Shahristan to complete his recuperation.

---oo0oo---

She had come so suddenly into his life. He could not stop thinking about her but dared not ask about her left she, and he, would be deemed sinners in the eyes of Allah.

---oo0oo---

On the evening of his return to the Shahristan, Ali, Hassan, Fu-ad and Farouk visited their injured friend. There was much rejoicing at Ahmad's safe return. However, during a lull in the celebrations, Ali drew Ahmad aside.

"Ahmad, there's something I didn't tell you about the attack."

"Oh?"

Wordlessly, Ali dipped into his pouch pocket and brought out a silver toggle. "I fought with our attackers, Ahmad, and I pulled this ..." - he held the toggle between thumb and forefinger - "from the leather jacket of the man with the knife just before I was hit from behind."

Ahmad took it and examined it closely. "This could be a vital clue to our assailants' identity, Ali! Let's show it to the others!" They rejoined the other men. "Look, my friends!" Ahmad exhibited the toggle. "Ali took this toggle from one of our assailants. There cannot be many Mongols wearing such adornments on their leather jackets. A little observation will be all that is needed to track down the murderers." He passed the toggle round and everyone examined it closely. "I suggest that we keep this to ourselves, my friends. If we discover who it was that attacked us, they will pay for it - with their lives!"

"I think," Ali continued, "that we were lucky that all of us were not killed, but I suspect that they mistook my soldier for Ahmad, as they are of the same build and height. He died protecting Ahmad and has been accorded full military honours."

---oo0oo---

Shortly after his return to the Shahristan, Mas'ud Beg summoned Ahmad to his presence.

After the formal greetings had been made, Mas'ud indicted the cushion near him and they sat together. "Well, Ahmad, you gave me a nasty fright!"

"Indeed, my Lord, I was slightly alarmed as well!"

"But now you are well again."

"Well enough to continue my duties, my Lord."

"Tell me, do you know who attacked you?"

"They appeared to be Mongol soldiers, my Lord, five or six of them. It was dark and we were incognito, or so I thought."

"Do you think it was a random attack?"

"I doubt it. Why then would they kill?"

"They thought they had killed you?"

"Yes. The young soldier was the same height and build as me. The slash wound I received was when they cut my purse from my belt to make it look as though it was robbery."

"Did you recognise any of them?"

"No. It happened so quickly."

"Nevertheless, I shall lodge a formal complaint with Chaghatai Khan."

---oo0oo---

The day was hot and Ahmad sat in his room, being fanned by a eunuch as he worked on his book-keeping. He heard a respectful scratching for admittance at his door and raised his head. "Come in!" he called. "Farouk! What are you doing here at this time of day? Should you not be preparing the mid-day meal for the Great Khan?" As he spoke he indicated to the eunuch to leave.

Alone together, Farouk replied "Indeed I should, Ahmad, but there is something you must know - immediately!" The little man was bubbling with excitement, his eyes shining.

"Well, go on, Farouk!"

He started to speak rapidly. "I was serving the Khan last night, as usual, His tongue was loose from too much koumiss, as usual. He was entertaining one of his generals, recently returned from border skirmishes with the tribe of Kaidu Khan. Ahmad, when I served him I noticed that the man was wearing an expensively-tricked leather jerkin with silver toggles and - one was missing!"

"Hah! Now we have him! His name, man, his name!"

"This is the best bit of all, Ahmad. His name is - Tegana!"

"Tegana! Tegana is back!" Ahmad's eyes burned hatred as he paced the room in agitation.

"There is another thing, Ahmad. Chaghatai, as I said, was drunk and heedless of who was listening to their conversation. I heard them talk about the fighting for a while, then Chaghatai said "It is unfortunate, Tegana, that your little skirmish in the streets the other week proved to be unsuccessful."

""Great Khan", replied Tegana, "the darkness deceived us. I was sure I had disposed of Ahmad. I should have done it years ago."" "Then the Khan said "He is a considerable thorn in my side, Tegana. He is attempting to take over command of the drug trade from el-Shazam. I have carefully nurtured that business for years and I have paid the Saracens well for their trouble. I do not intend an interfering upstart to take it all away from me."" Farouk looked to Ahmad, who had sat down in surprise at the revelation.

"Farouk, you have done well. Can you return here tonight? I will call the others together and we will have a meeting."

---oo0oo---

That evening, as he offered them refreshments of dates and milk, Ahmad appraised the gathering of what Farouk had overheard.

"What can we do about it?" Ali enquired.

"We made a pact, remember? We swore we would avenge our families' deaths and destruction whenever the opportunity arose. And now that we know he's also the one who attacked us, we have two good reasons for vengeance."

"Easier said than done, Ahmad." said Fu'ad. "He's a commander of 10,000 now, and will be surrounded by his army at all times. I can think of no way that we can get him on his own."

"Should we employ an Assassin?" suggested Hassan.

"No! No outsiders!" Ahmad was adamant. "I want to see him die!"

They thought in silence for a while. "Every man has a weakness." commented Hassan.

"Yes, and I know his." Farouk said mysteriously. "He's a sadist and will torture any captive. Listen, I have a plan ..."

---oo0oo---

The night was moonless. The Mongol sentinels paced the battlements and round the perimeter of the courtyard, where many of the Mongols' tents were raised. The flags of the various tribes flapped in a light, hot wind from the desert and the horses neighed and whickered to each other. Farouk, wearing a deeply cowled robe, moved from shadow to shadow, ever nearer to Tegana's large and spacious tent. He was relieved to see that the tent was unguarded. Tegana, secure in the knowledge that the sentinels were patrolling the grounds of the citadel, did not even consider that a threat would come from inside.

Farouk checked that no-one was near, then knocked on the wooden upright for admittance.

"Come!" the rough Mongol voice responded.

Farouk pushed the goatskin covering the entrance to the tent aside and entered.

"Hm? Who are you?" Tegana asked, suspicion tugging at his mind. "My Lord Tegana, I come from the Great Khan. He bids me request your presence in the dungeon. A suspected spy has been captured and he wants you to carry out the inquisition."

"At this time of night?"

"It is the Khan's request, my Lord."

Farouk led Tegana to the dungeon keep. Ali had disposed of the Mongol guarding the entrance and it was he who snapped to attention as the Mongol Warlord passed. The door slammed closed behind them. Ali handed Farouk a lighted torch and all three proceeded down the winding stairs. The air was dank and musty and there was nobody else in the building. For the first time, Tegana felt a chill of discomfort and suspicion. "Boy, who is this person who I have to question and where is the Khan? Is he not here?"

"In here, my Lord, in here!" and Farouk pushed open a heavy wooden door, the flare of the torch revealing a man lying in the straw.

As Tegana, Ali and Farouk crossed the threshold of the cell Hassan, standing behind it, slammed it shut. Fu'ad emerged from the shadows and Ahmad rolled over and stood in front of Tegana, his pulses racing. This was the moment he'd waited many years for.

Now genuinely alarmed for his safety, Tegana blustered "What's the meaning of this? Where is the prisoner and the Great Khan?"

"You are the prisoner, Tegana." Ahmad spat out the name with all the hatred and venom that had festered within him. Ali suddenly seized Tegana from behind, holding him in a painful armlock.

"Wh - who are you?" Ahmad was gratified at the fear in the Mongol's eyes.

"Don't you recognise me, Tegana? You tried to murder me two weeks ago."

Tegana peered at him in the torch's flickering light. "Fanakati!"

"Yes, Fanakati and - some others who have a score to settle with you."

"Score? What score?"

"Eight years ago you carried out an attack on the Saracen quarter. You killed my father, sister and brother. You raped and murdered my mother, then you took me and had every intention of abusing me, had the good Bailio Yalavach not come to my rescue. And I was not the only one to lose his family that night."

"You? All of you?" Tegana's eyes were wide with fear as he stood immobile in Ali's powerful hold.

"All of us." echoed Ahmad. "And now, we will take our revenge. Hold him down on the floor! I have an insult to return!" As the others held Tegana to the floor, Ahmad exposed himself, stood astride Tegana aid, aiming his penis with his left hand, he urinated profusely into the face of the pinioned Mongol. "Ha! How does it feel like to get it done all over you, you Mongol bastard!" he said as he pushed out all the water he had been holding for hours for just this purpose. When he could do no more, he recovered himself while ordering the others "Now, tie him to these wall rings!"

Tegana fought with all his strength but was overpowered by sheer strength of numbers. Spreadeagled with his arms and legs forming an 'X', the conspirators secured his wrists and ankles to the metal rings affixed to the wall. "GUARDS! GUARDS!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

"Unfortunately for you, you Mongol dog, there are no friendly guards within hearing. Ali, as you can see, is one of us. You set fire to his parents' house - didn't he, Ali?" Ali nodded. "And you set fire to his parents - didn't he, Ali?"

The torch in Ali's hand singed Tegana's clothing and he began to tremble. A dark stain spread down his trouser leg and there was a sudden obnoxious smell of ordure.

"Oh, dear!" commented Ahmad. "Unable to control yourself? We'll have to attend to that! Strip him!"

"N-no! NO!"

Eager hands set to the task, ripping and cutting the fouled clothing away until Tegana stood naked before them.

Ahmad looked with revulsion at that which had so violently invaded his mother. An evil grin darkened his features. "Do I, gentlemen, have the honour of the first cut?"

"You do!" they chorused.

"Very well. Tegana, Mongol Warlord, we sentence you to Saracen justice by way of The Death of a Thousand Cuts."

Tegana started to writhe. "Hold him still!" Ali and Farouk held him still. Ahmad stooped and cleared the straw away from a pile of butchery knives Farouk had secreted there earlier. Tegana saw them and started to scream. Ahmad stood in front of the Mongol, a sharp knife in his hand. "This, you bastard, is for my mother!" Ahmad took Tegana's genitals in his hand and began to slowly hack through them. The screaming ended in gagging noises as Ahmad, his task complete, disposed of the amputation in the best possible place to encourage silence.

Next Ali allowed his flaming torch to singe and turn, ostensibly to stop the bleeding. Farouk, an expert butcher, chopped off Tegana's fingers one by one. then Hassan removed the toes. Fu'ad and Hassan also took their vengeance as ears, tongue and eyes were removed. All five Saracens took their pound of flesh.

Death came slowly to Tegana. What was still left by the morning's first light was still alive, but only just.

At the evening meal that night, Chaghatai Khan complimented Farouk on the tenderness of the meat.

---oo0oo---

A few days later the whole of Bukhara was abuzz with the mystery of the complete disappearance of the Warlord Tegana. Chaghatai Khan's wrath was great and he ordered a search of every house and hovel in and around the city. The Mongol riders clattered through the narrow streets, careless of pedestrians' safety in their fruitless search. Accidents happened and again innocent Saracens died, but those who were left behind suffered their grief in silence. Tegana had disappeared without trace.

In accordance with the Khan's orders, Mas'ud Beg carried out a search of the Shahristan and questioned his staff individually. Also present at the interrogation sessions was Vazir, Chief Adviser and Scribe to Chaghatai Khan. Ahmad was summoned to Mas'ud's main audience hall. As he made formal abeyance, he felt a cold knot in his stomach as he recognised the Mongol. Over the years, Vazir had acquired a reputation of being a ruthless and single-minded ally to the Khan. Ahmad knew he would have to be careful of his responses.

Mas'ud was first to speak. "Ahmad, you have heard of the disappearance of the Warlord Tegana, General of the Khan. You have met before the Lord Vazir, who will ask you some questions. Please answer them truthfully before Allah."

Without further preamble Vazir, who was unusually tall for a Mongol and, dressed and adorned the Mongol fashion, made an awesome sight. He spoke. "Tell me, Ahmad, do you know the whereabouts of the Warlord Tegana?"

"Truthfully before Allah, I do not, my Lord."

"Do you know of anybody who may be able to tell me where he may be?"

"No, I know of nobody who can tell you where he is, my Lord."

"you lie, Saracen infidel!" Vazir shouted, striking Ahmad in the face.

"My Lord Vazir," interrupted Mas'ud hastily, "no violence, please. I can assure you that Ahmad fears Allah and would never use His name in vain. If Ahmad says he knows nothing, then he is telling the truth."

Ahmad's eyes were blazing anger, his face stinging from the blow, but he knew that he must not retaliate. Mas'ud was defending him and he could only hope that he would defend the others involved in the conspiracy as well.

"Pah! You Saracen dogs stick together like glue!" Vazir strutted arrogantly around the seated Ahmad, trying to intimidate him. Ahmad did not move. Seeing his line of interrogation was getting nowhere, he suddenly changed his attitude. "Ahmad! You are a respected member of the Bailio's staff. I can see no reason why you would not soon receive promotion, and payment commensurate with such a promotion, should the Khan favour you. If some - hint - of the General's fate were to filter to me, why, then ..." he spread his hands expansively, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

"I repeat, my Lord, in the name of Allah, I have no knowledge of the General's present whereabouts." Ahmad's response was smooth and controlled. He flicked a glance at Mas'ud, who stood expressionless nearby.

"Hah! Very well. You may go." Ahmad bowed to both men and left their presence.

Later that evening, Ahmad heard the door of his apartment being knocked softly. "Enter!"

Mas'ud entered. "Ahmad, why is it that I have this feeling that you know more than you're telling me about Tegana? I know you bore a grudge against him."

"I answered truthfully before Allah, my Lord. I do not know where he is and I know of no-one who does."

"Is he dead, Ahmad?"

"That would appear to be a distinct possibility, my Lord."

"Then where is he buried?"

"Buried, my Lord?"

Mas'ud caught the nuance and was silent for a moment. "Not buried, Ahmad? But how could you dispose of a corpse without burying it?" Ahmad made a mime like he was eating a chicken leg. As realisation dawned on Mas'ud, he gave a sharp intake of breath. He knew only too well, as he had on one occasion witnessed it himself, the frequently practised Mongol custom of eating their prisoners. "Allah preserve us!" Mas'ud shuddered.

"I have said nothing, my Lord." Ahmad said innocently, eyes steady, unflinching.

"No, indeed you have not, Ahmad. This will go no further, of course. We are well rid of Tegana. There is just one thing I must know ... did I?"

"No, my Lord."

"Allah be praised for that! I wish to know no more. This interview is concluded." Mas'ud took his leave of Ahmad with a facial expression that was a mixture of admiration and revulsion.

---oo0oo---

With the mysterious disappearance of Tegana, el-Shazam had lost his only direct contact with the Mongol Court and trade. Ahmad saw his opportunity and took it. He made an unexpected visit one evening, accompanied once again by Ali and two Saracen guardsmen, who formed a protective cordon around the house.

As Ahmad entered the main guest room, he allowed something small he was holding in his hand to drop, Surreptitiously he watched where it rolled and came to rest, then seated himself on the guest cushions, accepting the customary milk and dates from his surprised host.

"I am delighted to see you have made a full recovery, Ahmad."

"Indeed I have, Abu el-Shazam. We have never yet re-arranged the meeting I was to have had with your colleagues regarding the tax collection of your business trade."

"We are at your disposal, Offendi." el-Shazam bowed deeply, covering his expression of anger. A glint of silver caught his eye and he leaned forward to pick the object up, but Ahmad was faster. When Ahmad reseated himself he was smiling.

"Perhaps ..." Ahmad replied, holding the silver toggle between thumb and forefinger and inspecting it closely, "Perhaps it will not be necessary to hold such a meeting. Do you know what this is?"

"A silver toggle - one of my guests must have lost it recently."

"Very unusual, this design, is it not?" Ahmad turned the object over in his hand. "Intricate craftsmanship. I do believe I recall hearing of the description of the clothing of the missing Mongol Warlord, Tegana." Ahmad paused to gauge el-Shazam's reaction to the name. He was gratified to notice that beads of perspiration appeared on el-Shazam's brow. "I wonder what Chaghatai Khan would say if I was to report to him that I had found this toggle in your house?" he emphasised.

"But - but - I do not know Tegana!"

"Indeed? Knowing your trading connections as I do, perhaps he was working for you. NO!" Ahmad exclaimed in a flash of inspiration. "He was not working for you. No! You were working for him! I wonder how it would look to the Great Khan," continued Ahmad relentlessly, "if it were to appear that you had murdered Tegana in order to - shall we say - fall heir to his piece of the profits?"

"No! That is not true! I know nothing about Tegana's disappearance."

"But you do know Tegana, and this toggle is evidence enough to belie that statement, el-Shazam."

el-Shazam wiped the perspiration from his brow, thinking fast. He realised that, despite his innocence, the explanation that Ahmad would relate to the Khan was quite plausible and, even although the real killer was not found, a scapegoat would do just as nicely. He was trapped. "What do you want of me?"

"The phrase, I believe, is 'a piece of the action'. No," he continued, raising his hand to halt el-Shazam's protest "I do not want all of your profits - at least not yet. No, half will do nicely just now." Then, taking a deep breath, he prepared to deliver the punchline. "There is, however, another possession of yours that I want."

"And that is?" Ahmad enjoyed hearing the apprehension in el-Shazam's voice; it told him that he had won the battle of wills.

"Your daughter, Fatima."

"MY DAUGHTER?" el-Shazam was outraged.

"There is no need to shout."

"But it is not possible. She is promised to another, who will pay me her weight in gold."

"I see. Perhaps you are not aware of the fact that your daughter - ah - came to me one night as I lay here injured."

"WHAT?!" In his anger, and as Ahmad had intended, el-Shazam misinterpreted Ahmad's meaning. "Are you trying to tell me that my daughter ..."

Ahmad spread his hands, his eyes glittering. "I am merely telling you the truth."

"Then she is worth nothing. He will no longer want her! I will whip her to within an inch of her life!"

"Then she would be of no use to me, either." Ahmad's smile was thin.

He wet his lips before replying "Very well. I agree. Take her - take her now if you wish!"

"No, not now. It would look better for you if I went through the formal ceremonies. This time next week will suffice." With that he swept out of the house.

---oo0oo---

The el-Shazam household was in uproar. Fatima was crying her heart out, swearing to Allah that nothing happened that night; el-Shazam's first wife was also in a highly emotional state. Fatima was her daughter and she knew her daughter was virtuous. When el-Shazam had sent his daughter to her room in disgrace, his wife stayed behind to speak to her husband. She begged, implored and beseeched him to relent and not to give Fatima to Ahmad. "Good my Lord," she wept, wringing her hands in anguish, "that man is evil. Even while I was nursing him (would that I had let him die!) I felt uneasy in his presence. He was always - looking at me. Every time I attended to his would he - reacted (I could not help but notice) and once he caught my wrist tightly and forced me onto his paliasse. Fortunately for me he was still weak from his injury and I escaped, but I have little doubt what would have befallen me."

"So it is possible that he ..." She nodded. He sighed resignedly. "I regret, my wife, I have no option but to comply with his wishes."

---oo0oo---

Ogodei Khan, Khan of All Khans and son of Chingis, died in Karakorum of over-consumption of drink in December 1241. Mahmoud Yalavach, Mas'ud's father, ruled China as Vice-Regent during the turbulent 4-year interregnum before Guyuk Khan was elected Khan of All Khans in 1246. During the 4-year period of unrest Ogodei's widow, the Empress Toregene, ruled and eventually secured the election of her son, Guyuk, during a gathering of the Mongol tribes called a Kurultai. Guyuk Khan confirmed Mas'ud Beg as Vice-Regent of Transoxania, allocating funds to the further development of the area.

---oo0oo---

A few months after the death of Ogodei, the stability of the Mongol Empire was again shaken by the sudden death of Chaghatai Khan. His unexpected death occurred the day Ahmad requested an audience with Mas'ud to ask his permission to officiate at his imminent marriage ceremony. Mas'ud, however, had been summoned to the citadel, and Ahmad was forced to wait, impatiently pacing his apartments, harassing his servants and generally making a nuisance of himself.

The whole region was in a turmoil with the uncertainty of who would be the next Mongol Overlord. Would it be Kara Hulugu, Chaghatai's eldest son? Kara Hulugu, hailed as the conqueror of Baghdad, was an excellent soldier, but had spent so much time waging border warfare with Berke, Khan of the Golden Horde, that Yesu Mongke, a younger son, had gained more experience in state administration. Because the Mongol Empire lacked a titular head it was left to the family of Chaghatai to vote for their new Il-Khan. When it was finally decided that Kara Hulugu should be Il-Khan, Yesu Mongke, furious at being denied the position he considered himself trained for, left Bukhara with his army of 10,000 loyal warriors, thus seriously depleting the defences of the city and the region.

Immediately after his accession, Kara Hulugu called together all his advisers and administrators, both Mongol and Saracen, in an effort to maintain continuity. Chaghatai's other son, Baidar, was present, as was Mas'ud Beg and Vazir, Scribe and Chief Adviser to Chaghatai. Mas'ud brought Ahmad to the meeting.

Kara Hulugu was a small, dark, vibrant and aggressive man in his early 30s, a veteran of many inter-tribal skirmishes, especially against Berke, whose territory bordered Transoxania in an ill-defined line which was constantly under contention. Unable to sit for any length of time, he quickly paced the audience chamber, hands behind his back. "I have ordered your presence her today," he commenced, his voice a surprisingly light tenor, "to discuss the further administration of my territory."

Baidar, youngest son of Chaghatai, sat morosely in his chair, feet indolently on the table. "Don't you mean 'our' territory, brother?" His voice held a tone of insolence that annoyed the newly-elected Il-Khan. "I am ruler of the territory, Baidar. You will do as I say. If you do, you will be well rewarded. If you do not ..." he allowed the sentence to trail away, uncompleted, but he drew the dagger from his belt and held it to his brother's jugular vein. Abruptly sheathing the dagger again, he addressed the company. "This applies to you all. I will not stand for disobedience, especially from you Saracens!" he spat out the word with contempt in his voice and face. "And if I should find that anyone is cheating me or my family in any way, my retribution will be quick and decisive. Is that clear?"

A murmur went round the seated councillors.

"Very well. Now, Baidar - I hereby appoint you General of my Mongol army. You will defend my province to the best of your ability." Hulugu then spoke more softly to his younger brother. "You know, I envy you. I can no longer ride out with the warriors - I must stay here and rule the people. Enjoy your fighting years - they don't last for long!"

Baidar abruptly rose and stamped out of the hall.

Hulugu sighed deeply, then turned to the rest of the meeting with an apologetic shrug. "He is young, he will learn manners soon enough. Now, Bailio Beg. As a token of my goodwill towards the Saracen people, I am prepared to offer pardons to all miscreants at present in captivity. Any crimes committed against my father remaining unsolved are also excused. I will start with a clean slate. Any crimes committed from this day forth will be dealt with most severely. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord Khan." Mas'ud acknowledged, inclining his head.

"Very well. You will, of course, continue with the administration of taxes and agricultural policy. We have many mouths to feed, and the fertile valley between the Jaxartes and Oxus must be utilised to the full. We also need more money for our campaigns."

"But my Lord Hulugu, the people are already taxed to the maximum."

"Enough! I will have no opposition! Do your job, Saracen, or I will find someone better to do it for you!"

In the silence that followed, Ahmad had an inspiration. "My Lord, may I speak?"

"WHAT? Who are you?" roared the angry Khan.

"My Lord, he is my assistant, Ahmad Fanakati." Mas'ud spoke up quickly as he gave Ahmad a glance of surprise and concern. This, he thought, had better be good.

"Humph. Very well, speak, Saracen!"

"My Lord, what I am going to suggest may at first seem impossible to fulfil ..."

"Never mind the preamble, man, speak!"

"My Lord Khan, who don't you form an allegiance with all the Mongol tribes in the Bukhara, Khwarizm and Transoxania valley, and perhaps even with Berke Khan?"

"WHAT? With these war-hungry curs? Impossible!"

"If you would just hear me out, my Lord?"

Hulugu, still pacing, waved his arm in compliance.

"If you form an allegiance, you can pool your finances and, now that Yesu Mongke has left, pool your warriors to make Transoxania the most powerful Il-Khanate in the conquered territories."

Hulugu stopped his pacing, turned and looked for the first time at Ahmad, who was still seated, hands clasped, at the conference table. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ahmad Fanakati, my Lord."

"Well, Ahmad Fanakati, if you can arrange to bring all the Darkhans of the area together under one tent, then I will speak to them."

"I, my Lord?" Ahmad had not anticipated being given the entire responsibility to carry out his suggestion.

"Yes, you, Fanakati. You will have much to gain by success, I promise you. Now, where should you start?"

After hearing Hulugu pardoning all previous crimes, Vazir, now Kara Hulugu's Chief Adviser and Scribe, who recognised Ahmad as a potentially powerful and dangerous rival, envisaged a way to dispose of him. He had always suspected him of Tegana's disappearance but had been unable to find proof of any kind to substantiate an accusation. Anything, he realised, could happen to Ahmad during a journey through the desert ... "I know of a tribe in the Khiva area, My Lord, a branch of the Kungurat who came west with Chingis. They are a powerful and warlike people, and alliance with them would certainly be advantageous to you."

"An excellent suggestion, Vazir. Fanakati, you will travel to Khiva and meet the Khan - what's his name, Vazir, do you know?"

"I believe it is Nogodar, my Lord."

"Talk to this Nogodar, tell him I offer allegiance and protection, for a minimal tribute. Invite him to come here in, say, three full moons from this day. Go - as quickly as you can!"

"What about the other Khans, my Lord?" asked Mas'ud.

"I will send Juji, my brother, to treat with Berke Khan." Hulugu was pacing, again, stroking his long, thin droopy moustache pensively. "Yes! On consideration, you have spoken well, Fanakati. If your suggestion proves to be successful when you return, you will be well rewarded. No, go! This meeting is over!"

---oo0oo---

Ahmad returned to the Shahristan with Mas'ud, sharing a palanquin. At last he had the chance to speak to Mas'ud about his now long-delayed wedding arrangements. "My Lord, before the news of Chaghatai's death broke, I cam to see you concerning a matter close to my heart. May I make a request?"

Mas'ud indicated acknowledgement.

"My Lord, I wish to take a wife."

"A wife?" Mas'ud was taken completely by surprise. "May I enquire who the lucky lady is?"

"The daughter of Abu el-Shazam. If I am soon to leave Bukhara, I would, of course, wish to take her with me."

"that would not be advisable, You will only be gone a short time. You will have a Saracen army escort. You may, of course, make your marriage arrangements now and, on your return from Khiva, you may marry the girl. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back to claim your bride."

"My Lord, for a man in love a short time is truly an eternity. Allah alone knows what may happen in that 'short time'. Being parted from her when I could be married to her would be a punishment worse than death to me. I entreat you, my Lord Mas'ud, please reconsider."

Mas'ud laughed gently. "Very well, my friend - I see your need of her is great. You have my permission, and my blessing, to go ahead with the marriage ceremony forthwith."

---oo0oo---

el-Shazam, anxious to keep up appearances, arranged as extravagant a wedding for his daughter as he could. The only part of the ceremony at the mosque that was at variance with normal procedure was the weighing of the girl in order that the scales were balanced by her weight in gold. Ahmad brought no dowry for his bride. Bailio Mas'ud Beg was a guest of honour at the wedding feast held at el-Shazam's house.

Whilst the festivities were in full swing, el-Shazam pulled Ahmad aside and into an unoccupied room and bid him to set. "I would rather stand, if you don't mind." responded Ahmad. Standing always gave him the advantage of his height.

"Very well." el-Shazam paced the room, hands locked behind his back. "There is something I must say to you, before you take my daughter away from me."

Ahmad said nothing, which seemed to make el-Shazam even more uneasy.

"I am innocent of the crime you have accused me of but, until the real killer of Tegana has been found, the proof you hold is truly damning evidence. I am therefore at your mercy, and doubly so as you now have my daughter. I have heard - rumours - about your previous experiences with women which I hope are untrue. I am asking you - no, begging you - to be kind and gentle to my daughter. She is so young and innocent of the world. Please - do not hurt her."

"I am glad we are having this little discussion, el-Shazam." responded Ahmad. "Whatever you may have heard of my - as you call them - previous experiences are, I am sure, vastly exaggerated. I promise you that I will take good care of your daughter." el-Shazam breathed a sigh of relief until Ahmad continued. "On one provision." el-Shazam stopped and spun in his tracks, facing Ahmad.

"And what is that?" he said, apprehension and annoyance in his voice.

"Quite simply, I will take good care of your daughter as long as you send me half of you earnings, wherever I may be, to arrive by postal courier every month when the moon is full for the rest of your life. If you do not ..." he left the sentence trail away eloquently.

"You swine! I'll - I'll ..." he blustered helplessly as Ahmad turned on his heel and rejoined the celebrations. Standing by his new wife's side, he held her round her slim waist for all to see. He felt her whole body stiffen in fear at his touch.

The ceremony at the mosque and the celebrations at the el-Shazam household over, Ahmad and Fatima rode in style in a covered palanquin to the apartments in the Shahristan that Mas'ud had had prepared as a marriage gift. This was a special privilege, as the spacious, dome-shaped room was one used by Mas'ud himself on wedding nights. It was sumptuously decorated in silk curtains, which also adorned and encircled the luxurious bed in order that complete privacy could be enjoyed.

Ahmad retired to an adjoining room to prepared himself as Mas'ud's harem ladies fussed and clucked over the bride. They arranged the girl on the bed, her white silk gown covering her completely, her long, dark hair spread round her shoulders. Finally the women, satisfied with the results of their attentions, departed amidst giggles and squeals of excitement. Ahmad and Fatima were at last alone. Fatima had remained silent and withdrawn throughout the whole day and now she lay, her long, dark hair on the silken pillow, dressed in the most beautiful silk gown adorned with gold threat and jewels. Ahmad came out of his retiring room and saw her lying there in the soft candlelight. She was beautiful! He felt a flood of desire rising within him. He was dressed in a red silk full-length gown, embroidered with silver thread in intricate patterns - another gift from Mas'ud.

He walked over to the bed, thumbs hitched round the cord fastening the gown round his waist. He could see the fear in Fatima's eyes as he approached. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. She did not respond to him at all. Perplexed, he sat back. It was then that he saw she was crying.

"Oh, oh. What's this, then? What's the matter?" As he spoke he brushed her tears away. She pulled the silken bedclothes up to her chin, sobbing uncontrollably, and turned away from him. "Please, tell me what's wrong." He tried to pull her back towards him but she shrugged him off, curling her body up into a tight little ball. Her resistance inflamed him. He was ready for her now, but he did not want to have to take her by force. She was, after all, his wife. He fought to control his pounding desire, waiting until the sobbing gradually stopped. Again he pulled her back to face him. She was rigid and unyielding.

"You - you're going to hurt me." she whispered through the abating sobs.

"I promise I will be as gentle as I can." he soothed her, again brushing the tears away.

"Why - why did you lie to my father about what we had done?"

"on the word of Allah I did not lie to him. I merely said that you had come to see me. He misinterpreted my meaning. I am sorry if it has caused you grief."

"My father hates me - you have made him hate me!"

"But I am your husband now - your life is with me, for now and ever after."

"But you're leaving Bukhara! I don't want to leave Bukhara!"

"I must go. The Il-Khan has ordered it. I have no alternative. But I will be back within three full moons. Listen to what I am going to say, Fatima. I want you for my wife. I fell in love with you when you first came to me and I love you even more now. You are the one and only wife of my heart - no-one will come before you. I will take good care of you, dress you in the finest clothes I can buy. I swear this by Allah. Despite my urgent need of you, if you do not want me now i will wait until you do." He turned away from her and closed his eyes in an attempt to quell his burning desire. A soft groan escaped his lips.

Fatima lay silent, still clutching the sheet, her eyes frightened, mistrusting. He moaned softly again as he sat at the foot of the bed, his back to her. Her curiosity got the better of her. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you will?"

"No." His voice was tight, his breathing fast. "It is just - my need for you is so great that it makes me feel this way. Please ..." He kneeled by the bed and softly kissed her hand. This time she did not recoil from the touch of his lips. Encouraged, he leaned over her gain and kissed her brow, then her eyes, licking away the tearstains. He felt her gradually relax as the sensual touch of his lips had its effect. Slowly, as not to frighten her, he pulled the sheet away from her grasp and slipped his hand under her gown, caressing her young breast. He felt first one nipple, then the other, harden with his touch. She began to breathe more heavily as he opened her gown, seeing for the first time her lithe young body in all its naked beauty, his hand exploring her private places, his tongue licking and teeth nipping until she was writhing in ecstasy, her breath coming in short gasps. Driven to the peak of desire, he threw off his robe. She gasped in shock at what she saw. "N-no! No! He pinned her down as she wriggled and writhed beneath him, the hair on his chest tickling her as he rubbed his body against hers, finding his way. She felt the heat of his member on the inside of her thigh, probing, seeking and finding. Driven by instincts she had never experienced before, she surrendered completely to him. His natural instincts took over and he began thrusting, harder and harder until her final barrier gave way and he cried out in pain and ecstasy. He lay there for a few moments, then started to move again, only this time they moved together and it was he who cried out in ecstasy.

Afterwards they lay, side by side. "I never knew it would be like that!" Fatima said softly, running her hand through the hair on his chest. "I was so afraid."

"I know." he leaned over and caressed her face. "Now, do you love me?" he asked, still unsure.

"My Lord Ahmad, I love you!" She turned to him and kissed him, while her exploring hand made him gasp. She giggled. "My, what a big one!" she said, minutely inspecting his anatomy.

He looked down and laughed excitedly as her ministrations had the desired effect. He gently removed her hand and knelt over her, swaying. "Yes," he said, "and now I'm going to show you what else we can do!"

---oo0oo--

GO TO CHAPTER 3

RETURN TO CONTENTS