Her name was now Kajira.
She couldn't remember her given name anymore, it had been that long. It didn't matter anyway. Not for a slave.
And she was a slave. Bound to obey everyone from the Sultan himself down to the lowliest of the low, but mainly the Sultan's many wives. It had been learned early on that she had a certain innate grace and so she was often called upon to serve drinks and food at the frequent parties the Sultan held. It was at one of these parties that her punishment was born.
"Fetch the wine and be quick, Kajira." The order was barked by one of the Sultan's wives on the fateful day. Kajira wasn't only expected to be swift but flawlessly graceful as well. She loaded the tray full of the exquisite crystal glasses, a wedding gift from a Highborn family from the South. Then she raised the flagon and poured the wine carefully, making sure not to spill a single drop. The golden liquid shimmered in the evening light, catching the last rays of the two suns and refracting rainbows on the walls. Kajira had no time to admire this phenomenon, however.
"Girl!" the head wife clapped her hands, and Kajira stood gracefully, bearing the tray aloft.
She was not unobserved. A man, one of the guests and a nobleman from the North, watched her closely. He admired her grace and her humility, but he also saw that she had spirit, and intelligence. When she wasn't employed serving the crowds or the wives, she could often be found in the nursery, reading to the tiny ones and teaching the older ones their letters and reading.
"Come here, Kajira!" one of the wives ordered, and Kajira glided over, despite her natural inclination to scurry. "Why are you so slow?" the woman demanded, a scowl marring her fine features.
Kajira bowed her head in mute apology and knelt, offering the tray up to the Highborn woman. She took a glass and waved Kajira away dismissively. "Useless creature."
The wives twittered and gossiped as they drank the sparkling wine, paying no heed to the kneeling slave. But the man, whose name was Amir, saw everything. He admired her figure and posture as she knelt, her bent head with its fiery hair, so different from the multitude of dark heads surrounding her. He knew that she suffered, for she was proud, for her difference from the other slaves, her red hair and pale eyes made her the recipient of the wives' anger.
"More!" one of the guests snapped his fingers imperiously and Kajira stood in one fluid motion, still balancing the tray above her head, this time filled with empty glasses.
Now, the second wife, although wed to the Sultan, had had her eyes upon Amir for quite some time, seeking a liaison. Although she had written him a missive asking for an assignation, no answer had been forthcoming. She glanced over at Amir and saw that his eyes were firmly fixed on Kajira as she walked gracefully towards the kitchen.
The second wife thought for a few moments before coming up with a plan. She would humiliate Kajira and disgrace her in Amir's eyes. She waited for the girl to come back from the kitchen. Sure enough, in a few moments Kajira appeared, bearing a tray full of glasses once more. When she approached, the second wife beckoned to the first wife. The first wife, ready for some tidbit of juicy gossip, came over readily. Just as the first wife reached the second wife, Kajira approached bearing her tray of glasses. With one swift and stealthy motion the second wife put out her slippered foot and tripped Kajira.
Down she came, helplessly, tray tumbling with all the drinks spilling, some of them over the first wife's gown.
"Clumsy fool! Look what you've done! Clean this mess at once!" the first wife shouted while the second wife smirked. Kajira knelt and began to gingerly pick up the shards of broken glass and setting them on the tray.
"Faster, you fool!" the first wife's features were nearly unrecognizable with fury. Kajria's hands moved in a blur, then she gasped, a drop of ruby forming on her finger.
"Serves you right, you stupid wretch." The second wife gloated.
"Stop." The commanding voice of Amir called out loudly.
The first and second wives and Kajira looked up, startled. "Have a servant boy sweep the glass up. It is far too dangerous to pick up by hand." Amir ordered.
"But the stupid girl dropped the tray and spilled wine all over my new dress!" the first wife pouted, trying to regain her composure.
"I don't care if one thousand of your dresses were ruined." Amir said, his voice dangerously soft. "Kajira is wounded."
"She will be punished, wife. Fear not." A voice boomed out in the background, and instantly all knees were bent for the Sultan entered.
Tall and spare, with a narrow, hawklike face, he surveyed the scene.
Kajira knelt, cradling her injured hand. Amir crouched beside her, offering his handkerchief to bind her injury. The Sultan scowled. "Leave her." He commanded.
"She's injured." Amir stood up. He was a couple of inches taller than the Sultan, and darkly handsome. He bowed to the Sultan. "May I look after her?"
"She is a servant. Let a servant tend to her." The Sultan ordered, turning towards the first wife. "What happened, dearest of my heart?"
The second wife, sensing an opportunity, said, "Kajira spilled wine all over my Lady. I think it was intentional, as the girl is clearly jealous of my Lady's beauty and grace."
"Is this true?" the Sultan asked the first wife.
"Yes, heart of my heart." She said, a little tear forming in her eye. It was a trick she had learned as a girl, crying on command.
"Then she will be punished, and today!" the Sultan boomed. "Take her away to the courtyard. Have her stripped."
"No!" Amir said and there was a murmur of surprise from the crowd. "She was tripped. I saw it with my own eyes."
"Tripped?" Second wife's eyes were wide.
"Yes, you put your foot out and caused her to fall."
"This is a dangerous accusation, Amir." The Sultan said softly. "Are you certain you wish to continue?"
"Yes, Sultan. Kajira is innocent."
"And you say that nothing like this tripping occurred?" the Sultan turned towards the second wife.
"Nothing like that happened. The stupid girl was merely being clumsy." The second wife vowed.
The Sultan turned towards Amir. "Are you accusing my wives of lying?"
"Yes, I am." Amir said. The murmur of the crowd escalated to a buzz.
"I am certain that you would wish to retract that statement, friend." The Sultan said, dangerously.
Amir looked the shorter man in the eyes. "I would not."
There was a collective gasp. The two wives looked on, mouths agape. Kajira cradled her injured hand and said nothing.
"You know, my friend," the Sultan said, studying Amir's face, "I could have you executed for such a thing."
"I know. But you will not, being a man of reason and sense." Amir rejoined.
"Nonetheless. You need to be punished as well, for disrespect." He thought for a moment. "I require that you punish Kajira."
"What?!" Amir's face went ashen.
"She is to be publicly strapped for her transgression. You will administer the strapping or I shall have you beheaded. And do not think that you can go easy on her, for if she isn't sufficiently marked I will have her punished all over again."
"This is insanity!" Amir said, stepping forward towards the Sultan. In an instant he was surrounded by three burly palace guards, all wielding drawn swords of wicked, gleaming sharpness.
"Your choice, friend." The Sultan smirked.
"You wouldn't behead me." Amir spoke confidently.
The Sultan put his head to one side and considered for a moment. "Yes, you are right. I won't have you beheaded."
The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief. Until.
"I'll behead Kajira instead, if you don't agree to giving her the strapping."
"You can't do this!" Amir protested.
"He is the Sultan. He can do as he pleases." The second wife chimed in, maliciously.
"Do you agree? Or shall I call for the Executioner?"
Amir ran his hand through his hair. "You give me no choice."
"Excellent. Let us walk down to the courtyard together." The Sultan took one of his wives on each arm and inclined his head. Amir followed, with a heavy heart.
***
In the courtyard an apparatus had been set up. Much like a sawhorse but with padding on its back and a series of leather and chain restraints at the legs. It was on a raised dais in the center, giving everyone an excellent view. Amir viewed the thing for a long moment then turned towards the Sultan.
"Punish me, instead." He insisted, softly.
"What! And let Kajira get off?" the Sultan kissed each wife on the cheek and turned towards Amir. "Besides, nobody wants to see you punished, Amir. Fetch the girl!"
In a moment the crowd parted to let the guard holding Kajira through. The girl shivered with apprehension, goosebumps visible on her body. She was wearing a thin cotton chemise and nothing else. The guard jerked her by the arm up onto the platform, where she stood, facing the crowd, eyes down. Amir watched this, heart sinking.
