emaciated bag of bones. She is pining away of a broken heart I’ve seen many like her. She will not live a month. I cannot embarrass either myself or my discerning clients by offering such a shoddy piece of merchandise. Take her to the open market with the rest of your cargo. You can get a few dinars for her there.”
Gnashing his teeth, Batu dragged Marya from the house to the marketplace. She arrived in time to see her aunt sold to a rich, kindly-looking farmer who wanted a housekeeper for his motherless brood. Marya smiled to herself. If she knew her aunt the hapless farmer would find himself a bridegroom before the year was out.
Gradually Batu’s stock of captives dwindled until only Marya remained. The auctioneer did his best but no one wanted the sad, stark girl. Furious, Batu was ready to beat her, when a stern, deep voice ordered, “Hold!”
They turned to see a very tall, elegantly dressed man striding to the platform.
“What do you want for the girl?”
Batu gaped.
“Well, my Tartar friend, surely you have put a price on her?”
“A hundred gold dinars?” ventured Batu.
The crowd hooted, but the tall man began emptying coins from a very fat purse.
“I will give you a hundred and fifty because I see her true worth.” He placed the coins in the amazed Tartar’s hands and stepped up onto the platform. Taking Marya’s icy little hand in his large, warm one, he spoke softly to her. “My name is Hadji Bey, my child. If you will trust me, I will help you to live again.”
“My family is dead. I have no wish to live.”
“I know, little Firousi. Your pain is great but if you choose, your future can be bright. Come now. We will go to my lodgings, and I will tell you all”
Leading Marya from the platform, he placed her in a large palanquin and, joining her, ordered the bearers homeward. Installing her in his house, Hadji Bey ordered a soothing drink for the distraught girl. Convinced that she was now at least physically comfortable, he gently pressed her to unburden herself. At first she was hesitant but gradually the drug that Hadji Bey had ordered put in her drink took effect and, relaxed, Marya poured forth her woes.
He listened sympathetically, and when at last the exhausted girl finished, he nodded. “Yes, my child, it is all very tragic, but what you have told me has happened many times to many others. It is over and cannot be taken back.” He fixed her eyes with his and went on softly. “You are tired, little Firousi. You have suffered much. Now you will sleep, and when you awake, the pain of the past will be gone. You will begin your life again. You will not forget what has gone before, but you will no longer hurt.”
Her eyes were drooping, but she spoke. “Only if I am avenged. Batu and seven of his men for each member of my family killed The one called Yesukai for my bridegroom.”
“It is done, Firousi.”
“What do you call me?” she-asked sleepily.
“Firousi. It means turquoise,’ the color of your eyes. Now sleep, my child.”
Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she obeyed.
“When I awoke I felt marvelous! And that, dear Cyra, is how I came to be here,” said Firousi.
“But what of Batu?” asked the Scots girl. “Did Hadji Bey have him and seven of his men killed?”
“Oh, yes. When we heard of you and left Damascus to come to Crete, I saw their heads rotting on pikes as we passed through the main gate. I never spoke of it. nor did he.”
“You heard about me?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone from Damascus to Alexandria knew of the high-born virgin with the red hair to be sold by Abdul ben Abdul. What a price Hadji Bey paid for you! Zuleika and I together didn’t bring a tenth of your price.”
“I hardly consider that an honor.”
“You should,” snapped Zuleika. Janet looked startled at the almond-eyed girl’s tone of voice.
“Pay no attention to her,” laughed Firousi. “She is Princess Plum Jade, a daughter of the emperor of Cathay, and only camel
Gnashing his teeth, Batu dragged Marya from the house to the marketplace. She arrived in time to see her aunt sold to a rich, kindly-looking farmer who wanted a housekeeper for his motherless brood. Marya smiled to herself. If she knew her aunt the hapless farmer would find himself a bridegroom before the year was out.
Gradually Batu’s stock of captives dwindled until only Marya remained. The auctioneer did his best but no one wanted the sad, stark girl. Furious, Batu was ready to beat her, when a stern, deep voice ordered, “Hold!”
They turned to see a very tall, elegantly dressed man striding to the platform.
“What do you want for the girl?”
Batu gaped.
“Well, my Tartar friend, surely you have put a price on her?”
“A hundred gold dinars?” ventured Batu.
The crowd hooted, but the tall man began emptying coins from a very fat purse.
“I will give you a hundred and fifty because I see her true worth.” He placed the coins in the amazed Tartar’s hands and stepped up onto the platform. Taking Marya’s icy little hand in his large, warm one, he spoke softly to her. “My name is Hadji Bey, my child. If you will trust me, I will help you to live again.”
“My family is dead. I have no wish to live.”
“I know, little Firousi. Your pain is great but if you choose, your future can be bright. Come now. We will go to my lodgings, and I will tell you all”
Leading Marya from the platform, he placed her in a large palanquin and, joining her, ordered the bearers homeward. Installing her in his house, Hadji Bey ordered a soothing drink for the distraught girl. Convinced that she was now at least physically comfortable, he gently pressed her to unburden herself. At first she was hesitant but gradually the drug that Hadji Bey had ordered put in her drink took effect and, relaxed, Marya poured forth her woes.
He listened sympathetically, and when at last the exhausted girl finished, he nodded. “Yes, my child, it is all very tragic, but what you have told me has happened many times to many others. It is over and cannot be taken back.” He fixed her eyes with his and went on softly. “You are tired, little Firousi. You have suffered much. Now you will sleep, and when you awake, the pain of the past will be gone. You will begin your life again. You will not forget what has gone before, but you will no longer hurt.”
Her eyes were drooping, but she spoke. “Only if I am avenged. Batu and seven of his men for each member of my family killed The one called Yesukai for my bridegroom.”
“It is done, Firousi.”
“What do you call me?” she-asked sleepily.
“Firousi. It means turquoise,’ the color of your eyes. Now sleep, my child.”
Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she obeyed.
“When I awoke I felt marvelous! And that, dear Cyra, is how I came to be here,” said Firousi.
“But what of Batu?” asked the Scots girl. “Did Hadji Bey have him and seven of his men killed?”
“Oh, yes. When we heard of you and left Damascus to come to Crete, I saw their heads rotting on pikes as we passed through the main gate. I never spoke of it. nor did he.”
“You heard about me?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone from Damascus to Alexandria knew of the high-born virgin with the red hair to be sold by Abdul ben Abdul. What a price Hadji Bey paid for you! Zuleika and I together didn’t bring a tenth of your price.”
“I hardly consider that an honor.”
“You should,” snapped Zuleika. Janet looked startled at the almond-eyed girl’s tone of voice.
“Pay no attention to her,” laughed Firousi. “She is Princess Plum Jade, a daughter of the emperor of Cathay, and only camel
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