The days had an order to them. More days than not, Thabit came to Rida in her prison bedchamber. The encounters were violent and rough but mercifully brief. She was brought two meals a day by a timid young woman who never spoke and barely looked at her. Over time, Rida became accustomed to her nakedness. She stopped cowering when Thabit barged into the room. Her lack of fear and shame increased his wrath. Some nights, he left her bloody and barely conscious. She had ceased begging for release and now prayed to Allah that Thabit would kill her.
The door rattled and she started, sitting up on the couch where she rested. It was not time for the maid, so the visitor must be Thabit. Her long hair hung over her shoulder, hiding her full breasts from his view. Instead of her tormentor, a broad shoulder guard stood in the doorframe. His eyes swept over her and she grabbed a blanket to cover her front. His face remained expressionless. She lowered her eyes.
"Master Thabit sends for you," the guard growled. He took two steps into the room and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to her feet. She gasped in surprise and shock as she stumbled out of the bedchamber behind him.
Rida knew the layout of the palace. She had walked it freely as Marid al-Kasim's favorite wife. The guard was leading her to the large room where Marid had met with other important men. She felt disgust as she thought about Marid's son turning the grand chamber where she had danced for her husband's guests into another brothel for his fierce and hateful lust.
Her eyes tried to capture everything in the room as the guard dragged her across the marble floors. Thabit reclined at a table heavy with fruits and nuts. Two other young men also sat with her tormentor. Laughter filled the room as the guard gave her a shove and pushed her to the floor. She lay with her face pressed to the cold tile as she awaited her fate. Perhaps Thabit had finally decided to kill her. He was blood thirsty and would want an audience for his work.
"I saw more Christian pilgrims on the road today," Thabit said, ignoring her presence.
One of the men chuckled, a sound that gave Rida chills. "The infidels bring their gold to Jerusalem. They will not leave with it."
"What news do you hear of Constantinople, Hatim?"
The other man spoke. Rida attempted to look up, but did not lift her head much. "The fool, Alexis, who imagines himself the new Caesar, has begged Europe for help. Even now, the Pope's armies are gathering for war."
"Do we have anything to fear?"
"I have heard rumors of an army moving across Europe killing the Jews in the cities as they attempt to reach the Holy Land." This was not spoken by Hatim. Rida thought she recognized the man, but she could not recall his name. "They are led by a preacher, not a general, and they have no more skill with a sword than they do a plow."
"We are in service to Allah, the one true god of the Prophet Mohammad," Hatim replied. "Allah will not fail us. We will see victory and the infidels will understand their foolish ways."
"When the time comes, will we win Constantinople?" Thabit asked.
"It will not be an easy victory. It was a strong city when it was Byzantium. The Greeks could only defeat it by sneaking into the walls in a wooden horse when it was Troy. It is well-defended by walls and Alexis's army."
"We must control Constantinople. It is the only way to protect ourselves from the infidels."
"They will spend their energy on Jerusalem. Alexis is no more than a mongrel pup to them. Jerusalem will distract them from their problems and leave Constantinople vulnerable. Give them Jerusalem. We'll take Constantinople and cut them off from the rest of Europe. We'll suffocate the enemy."
"Very good. Let your master know that when the infidels arrive, he can depend on Thabit Kasim."
Rida tried not to react to Thabit's promise. She could not picture Thabit leading troops into battle. The man was a coward. His guards harassed the Christian pilgrims, robbing and beating them and sometimes killing them. Thabit padded his coffers with the gold from the pilgrims' pockets, but he never put himself at risk. He preferred targets that did not have the strength to fight back.
"Now, we'll have our entertainment," Thabit said, his voice penetrating Rida's thoughts. "Girl," he snarled, "dance for us. Dance the way you did when you seduced my father."
Rida rose from the floor, tempted to cover her naked body. The cold floor had penetrated her flesh and her nipples were hard pebbles. Her young, firm breasts jutted from her frame. Her slender waist and flared hips were hypnotic when they moved. Her father and her husband had used her talents to persuade men to see their point of view.
This was the first time Thabit had called on Rida to dance. There were no musicians to accompany her movement. She fastened her eyes on Hatim. He was a stranger to her, but his tone was gentle, even when talking about war. His eyes held tenderness that she had not seen since Marid had gasped his last breath. Rida closed her eyes, attempting to create a melody in her head. She began moving in a steady rhythm, hips moving side-to-side, hair twirling as she spun, and eyes lowering coyly at Hatim.
The spell seemed to be working. Hatim was watching her intently. He took a sip of his drink and licked the moisture from his lips without moving his dark eyes from the naked dancer. She did not look at Thabit or his friend. She knew Thabit would notice where her attention lay and would probably be angry because she danced for his guest and not for him. She hoped he would be so angry he would not come to her. Perhaps she would be granted peace.
