Leaves On The Wind. Carol Townend
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whatever it was, it had not been this. She was lodged in the most beautiful room she had ever seen. The walls were a cool, clean white. Semi-circular arches allowed tantalising glimpses of flowershaded courtyards. Silver fountains played. The smooth marble floors were scattered with soft, exotic rugs of such quality and texture that they looked as though they’d come from paradise.
Judith had been bathed. Healing oils had been rubbed into the scars on her wrists and ankles. She’d been clothed, after a fashion, in floating silks that revealed more than they hid. She’d been given strange foods to eat. She’d tasted olives, and octopus and swordfish. She’d been handed sweet fruits called oranges. But all this attention had not allayed her suspicions. She was being treated like a sacrificial lamb, and any moment now the officiating priest would appear and demand she paid her dues. No, however heavenly this place appeared, it had not been designed with her in mind.
“Do you understand me?” She raised her voice. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“She finds your tongue difficult.”
Judith whirled round to see a plump woman standing behind her. The woman’s leather-soled slippers had made no sound on the tiled floor. She had glossy raven-coloured hair. Her sloe-dark eyes had been carefully painted. Her lips were tinted ruby red.
“She managed it a moment ago,” Judith said waspishly. The drug had worn off and she was both angry and afraid. “Who the Devil are you?”
“I am Zoe.” Zoe’s voice was low, Judith could hardly hear her.
“Where am I? Where is this place?” Judith demanded.
“You are in the House of Balduk.”
“I know that,” Judith snapped. “But where on God’s earth is that?”
Zoe’s dark eyes stared coolly at her. She seemed quite unaffected by Judith’s anger. “Does it matter?”
“It matters!”
Zoe shrugged. “As you wish. This is Cyprus. We are under Byzantine rule.”
The name meant nothing to Judith.
“You see,” Zoe said, sweet as honey. “It does not matter. You are no wiser for knowing the name of this island.”
Judith lifted her chin.
“I came to see if you were ready,” Zoe said.
“Ready? For what?” Judith demanded. “To serve your master? Balduk, he is called, is he not?” She could not keep the bitterness from her voice. “Is this his harem?”
“Balduk is your master,” Zoe confirmed. “But he did not buy you to minister to him. This is no harem.” She laughed. “You are here to please his guests.”
“I don’t understand—his g…guests?” Judith did not like the sound of that.
“I will be plain, my dear,” Zoe smiled. “You are in a brothel. Balduk runs a House of Pleasure. We are all his ladies and must do as we are bidden.”
Judith felt as though a pit had opened up beneath her. Her mouth opened and closed, before she found any words. “A…a…brothel,” she got out. “I don’t believe you! I’m not a whore! What right do they have to steal me from my home and bring me here! I’m a free woman. I’m no slave!” And in a different tone. “You’re lying!”
Zoe laid a hand on Judith’s arm. Judith wrenched herself free. “You have no choice, I’m afraid,” Zoe sighed.
“I won’t! I couldn’t! Never!” Judith swore. Surely she had not kept Eadwold’s warriors at bay all these years to end up as a prostitute?
“Listen to me, my dear,” Zoe said, not unkindly. “What is your name?”
Judith scowled and kept her tongue firmly between her teeth.
Zoe’s eyes clouded. “You will tell me soon enough.” Her tone became confidential. “Now, listen, my dear, for your own sake. You can make it easier for yourself. Give in now with a good grace, because if you don’t…well…it will go hard for you.” Zoe paused and looked enquiringly at Judith.
Judith glared.
“My dear—”
“I am not your dear! And I am not a prostitute! I’ve lived for years as the only woman in a company of outlaws, and not once have I been tempted to surrender to any of them! And it was not for lack of them trying, I promise you that!”
“This is most interesting,” Zoe murmured, fingering a bangle on her wrist. “Do tell me more.”
“No! All I’ll tell you is that I won’t agree. I won’t. I’ll fight. I’ll make trouble. And then your precious Balduk will find his…his customers go elsewhere for their pleasures.”
Zoe searched Judith’s face. Judith’s chin inched upwards. She hoped her expression was suitably defiant.
Unexpectedly, Zoe smiled. “Let me offer you some refreshment,” she said. “And we can learn a little more about each other. And later, if you still insist, I am certain Balduk will be able to find you some other, more congenial work.” With a jingle of gold bracelets Zoe indicated a low table, set with drinking vessels.
Judith hesitated. Zoe had changed her tack too quickly for Judith’s liking. Nor did she like the sound of the “more congenial work” Zoe indicated she would find her. The idea of doing any work at all in a brothel filled her with horror. However there was no point in alienating Zoe—not yet.
“My thanks.” Judith lowered herself on to one of the satin cushions and gave a cautious smile. The whites of Zoe’s eyes gleamed across at her.
“Try this.” Zoe proffered a goblet brimming with an amber liquid. “’Tis a blend of fruit juices that I do not believe you have in your country. I think you will enjoy it.”
Judith tasted it warily. The juice was sweet and tangy, slightly thick, with a hint of bitterness. “’Tis very pleasant,” she admitted, “very refreshing.”
Zoe’s red lips smiled at Judith over the rim of her cup. “Perhaps now you would be good enough to tell me a little about yourself,” she suggested, easing her plump body deeper into the cushions.
Judith was staring in fascination at the intricate pattern engraved on her gilt goblet. She wrenched her eyes back to meet those of her companion.
“Your former life sounds most interesting,” Zoe said, encouragingly.
Judith groped for the words. How could she begin to explain to this strange woman what life as an outlaw in Mandeville Chase had been like? How could this pampered, sensual woman begin to comprehend the motives of someone who would have chosen the life of a beggar rather than submit tamely to a tyrant lord? She sipped at her drink.
Zoe was still smiling. There was something about that smile—it was hard to respond to it. Judith did not like Zoe, for all her smiles. She looked instead at the mother-of-pearl inlay on the table. The pink and blue shells shimmered in the lamp light.
“Well?” Zoe prompted.
“Oh. Oh, aye.” Judith mumbled.
Zoe’s smile froze, her face was very dark. Painted nails clutched at her goblet like the talons of a bird of prey closing on its victim.
The pinks and blues on the table swirled together. It made Judith dizzy to look at it. They must have skilled craftsmen indeed to make such beautiful things—so complicated…
The metal goblet slipped from Judith’s grasp. There was a dull clank and it rolled across the tiles. The juice fanned out slowly across the floor.
Judith opened her mouth to apologise for her clumsiness. No words came out. She was slipping sideways, falling down, down into the satiny, soft cushions. She tried to move her limbs, but could not. She was trapped in a silken web, caught fast, a fly trussed up in a spider’s larder.