Tunisian Dreams Ch. 05

This is the story of Sara, a Dutch woman, who is captured by the Barbary pirates on her way to the Dutch East Indies. She is given as a present to the Bey, the ruler of Tunis.

The Tunisian sun was not burning yet this early on a morning in 16^th century Tunisia. The bright morning glory was making the bay look azure blue and made all the flour particles in the air of the bakery shine like stars. Sara, however, was with unseeing eyes mixing dough. While normally baking cookies, after the baker was finished, was something she loved to do, as all the Dutch recipes remembered her of home, today she felt like in a daze.

Two days ago the first wife of her owner, the Bey of Tunis, had gone into labour. The woman had looked forward to having a baby on the verge of her old age. One chance for a son after her three daughters who were all already married. The kind grand lady and the lowly Dutch Christian slavewoman had forged a bond: their love for the Bey.

The next day passed without any reason to celebrate. The Bey's first wife was in labour but the baby was not coming. Around the second day her cries could be heard all over the palace and the midwives and the servants started to panic. Things did not seem well and they were afraid that if they decided wrongly and the baby or the mother would die, the Bey would punish them.

Sara had been married for many years to a doctor back in Holland. It was clear to her that help was needed but it might be in vain. While the palace was in chaos she had taken the liberty to send to eunuchs to Tunis. One to warn the Bey and the other to summer his palace physician.

Both had arrived some time ago. The wails had torn through her heart so she had hidden herself here in the bakery deep in the bowels of the fortress where she could not hear them.

The air was full of the smell of spices. Her cookies were less sticky and sweet as the local variety which were dipped in honey or rosewater. Hers were mixed with cinnamon or anise. At least the children in the palace would have something to keep them busy.

Her dress was dusted by the flour and her hands were deep in a bowl with dough. Tears were making her eyes sore but she could only try to wipe them away with the sleeve of her dress.

Suddenly she heard something at the door. Upon turning she noticed the Bey. A little bundle in his arms. Dusting off her hands on a rag she ran to the man.

"The baby! The baby is there!"

With only eyes for the child she looked into the cotton bundle. A small face was sleeping. A little hand jerking.

"Oh lord the baby is so beautiful. Is it a son or a daughter?"

She looked up suddenly realising how silent he was. To her horror she saw his face was wet with tears.

"Oh no. Oh no."

Forgetting he was the highest ranked person in the country and she a captured Christian woman who was given to him as a slave, she wrapped her arms around his torso, putting her head against his biceps, sharing his grief.

After a few moment he said: "His name is Azziz. He fought like a lion to live."

She looked up at his sad face. It broke her heart to see him so in pain.

"They could either cut him out and try to safe her, cut her open to let him be born like that Roman Ceasar or let them both go to Paradise together. She begged us to safe her child."

A fresh flow of tears dripped silently in his beard. She stood frozen realising the horror.

All of a sudden he held the baby out to her.

"He needs a mother Sara. He is all alone now. He needs someone to love him. To love him like her own baby."

Without thinking or hesitating her arms opened wide. He placed the bundle against her heart. She bowed her head and kissed the child.

"We both know Sara she respected you greatly. She would have agreed with my choice."

Sara nodded. She would have. And her heart seemed to break for that kind lady who had loved her husband so much she had told her a few days ago to tell this man she loved him.

"Lord I promise I will love him like my own. And I will tell him about his mother when he grows."

"Yes my sweet. I know you will. Come let us go and find that slave you bought. She will have to be wetnurse."

They both left the kitchen. Her cookies forgotten.

-8-8-

The Bey had gone back to Tunis to bury his lady with her parents and had stayed away for a whole month of mourning. He had not touched a women since his lady had died. Today he had gone back to his seashore residence. Spring had come and the trip on horseback had been uncommonly warm for this time of year.

He had greeted his two remaining wives and now wanted to see his youngest son. According to the reports he was receiving the child thrived.

Walking into the small room of his slave he was greeted by a vision. She was sitting on her bed. The cover over her legs but her chest bare in the opening of her nightdress. A little head with black curls was latched on one of those creamy breasts.

She looked up at him and a wide smile beamed on her face.

"My lord, you are back."

He walked over and sat on the bed. He could see how his son was drinking.

"Sara. What is happening? How can he drink from your breast?"

He saw her glance down at her son and he knew for certain how much she loved him already.

"Your physician told us we should make him feel bonded. Fatma was nursing him but even your third wife did as she still is nursing her babygirl. But the physician said I should as well so he would bond with his adopted mother."

"Even without milk?"

"Yes but the strange thing was I started to lactate. Not enough to feed a child on that alone I am afraid, but enough to make him happy when he cries during the night or just when we cuddle like now. The physician says my body sees him as my own baby and started to make milk."

He looked amazed at the blonde head and the white breast and his dark son. His hand started to stroke her leg.

"You do such a fine job my sweet."

The boy had fallen asleep with the nipple still in his mouth. She nodded to the crib in the corner and he held out his hand to put his son to bed. Upon turning he saw how tender her gaze was upon them. In two steps he was back at her side.

"Sweet please let me sleep in your bed."

She made room without hesitation but her bed was so narrow he realised that the only way he could sleep in it would be if he held her in his arms. Well at least when he was not crushing her.

He peeled away armour and clothes and slipped into her embrace. She moved her legs wide to give him comfort and he placed both his hands on her cheeks and kissed her deeply.

"I missed you immensely my Sweet. Forgive me for hurting you."

She looked up into his eyes and said: "I missed you too. Very, very much."

He started to kiss her eyes, her earlobe, the pulsepoint in her neck, the valley between her breasts. And her hands stroked his head, his shoulders, his back and she looked so happy.

He sucked her nipple and suddenly his mouth was full of milk. His laughter made her giggle.

"I warned you my lord",

He silenced her by kissing her again.

She wrapped her legs around him and he slipped home into her warm wetness. He felt her gasp and realised this was only the second time a man was inside her secret kingdom.

He started to move inside her. First consciously making sure not to hurt her. But when her sighs got deeper, her breath more laboured and she started to move with him, pleasure coursed through his body. He felt her muscles clamp around him and then her, with a flush of warm wetness and spasmic jerks of her muscles, coming on his rod. He just was able to thrust deeply inside that soaking wetness when his balls seemed to explode and he coated her womb with his essence.

They just laid there. His forehead against hers. Their heartbeat ringing in their ears. He kissed her on her forehead and carefully tried to turn them around so her head was on his shoulder and she was snugly resting more or less draped over him.

He noticed her sigh of content.

He kissed her hair.

"Happy?"

"Yes Lord. You made me very happy. You gave me a lovely son and a man to love. I have nothing else to wish for."

He felt her drift asleep in his arms. "I can give you so much more my Sweet", he was thinking. "Son and daughters growing under your heart. I will show you the old ruins you are so interested in."

And then sleep and warmth claimed him as well.

-8-8-8-

The next morning he woke up by his son crying. Fatma, the wet nurse, walked in from the room next door to feed him and then prostrated herself by seeing her lord and master grin at her. She hurried away with the baby. Sara stirred in his arms.

"Come on you sleepy head. We have to get ready to climb the Bursa?"

He laughed and her look of incomprehension.

"The hill? The site of old Carthage? We will have to find you some suitable cloths to ride with my soldiers."

He laughed when he saw how flabbergasted she was.

Half an hour later after a quick meal of tea and dates, he lifted her up on his snowwhite Arabian stallion. She was wearing the same white wide trousers as his soldiers, covered by a long dress and a wide cape, her head covered by a thin shawl that left only her eyes uncovered.

The riders showily climbed the hill. The sun on the early springday a warm glow on her face. His strong arms around her, his warmth in her back. The jingle of the horses' tack and their trod the only sounds. Sara was aware of the stealthy glances the soldiers directed to their lord. Never had he taken one of his women with him on one of this inspection rides. Her blue eyes and white skin not something they encountered that often.

"Look," the Bey said. "This is the hill that Carthage was located on. But the Romans raided the town so apart from some broken stones there is nothing left." He dismounted and lifted her off the horse.

Indeed the area was just earth but the view from the hill was magnificent. On the top a tower served as a look out post to guard Tunis. The Bey grabbed her hand and together they climbed the tower. She could look all over the laguna, the peninsula and the bay. The sea was dotted with ships. The corsairs on their way to seek plunder and the fishermen to look for a good catch. It was beautiful.

"Do you like it Sara?" he asked.

"Oh yes!"

"Do you want to see more?" She nodded.

They all mounted again and the cavalry turned away from Tunis. They passes grooves and farms and small villa's. The occasional tower of a mosque masquerading like a church tower.

"I always thought minarets were round?" she asked.

"Not here. Here they combine a religious and a military function. I will show you the rabat of Sousse one day."

When noon approached her behind was quite sore due to the unusual trip on horseback. They entered a lovely village on the coast. All the house painted white with skyblue doors and windowsills. Carpets, slippers, pottery and jewellery were sold from boots on the main street. Sara wished she could just look at all of that but the Bey continued on.

The riders halted at what was obviously an inn. A little garden ended in a sheer drop down the rocky outcrop. The high vantage point gave a great view on the fishing boats down in the bay. Food and hot tea was carried towards them but the Bey asked for a secluded spot so his lady could eat unseen. The innkeeper called for his young daughter and she escorted them to the roof and served them their noon meal there.

Sara realised how she was thoroughly enjoying this day out. She smiled and smiled.

---888---

When they arrived back at the palace the sun was already sinking. She was so stiff she could not normally walk. "I wish I could ride a horse," she told him." "How long does it take to not hurt anymore?"

They Bey was laughing. "You walk like an old lady my Sweet. Did you never ride a horse before?"

"No it was not regarded ladylike and people in the towns do not own a stable unless when they are very wealthy. And my father was already old. He did however teach me to wield a sword and that was even more unladylike."

"Ha I can imagine." He just lifted her up and carried her to the hot baths. She fell asleep in his arms in the pool. He smiled down at her and marvelled how he had enjoyed his day. He looked down at the naked woman in his arms. To his own surprise he decided not to bed her but to just carry her to his bed and rub some muscle balm on her sore bottom. He dozed off with the smell of peppermint in his nose and the warmth of her rump against his belly.

--888—

The Bey and his head eunuch were discussing his plans for an inspection tour along the coast. The two men strolled leisurely along the shoreline. Suddenly some of his children came running though the garden. Like only children can their noise level was deafening. They ran shrieking and laughing, sometimes looking over their shoulder as if they were chased by the devil.

From behind the ruined wall of the Roman baths his haremslave Sara ducked to catch the kids but instead ran headlong into the master of the realm.

"What are you doing woman?" he asked, holding her by her upper arms.

"Oh Sidi, we are playing Tikkertje. It is a game from my homecountry. One who is "it" needs to try and catch the next victim.

"Tag. We call it Tag."

"It seems my lord," she said with a mischievous grin, "that it is you I caught."

"Well to me, sweet Sara, it seems it is I who caught you.".

She looked up in his stern face and then noticed the smile in his dark eyes.

"Yes lord so you did."

"I need to talk to you my Sweet. Come with me."

He noticed his children were waiting on a safe distance to see who would be the one to come chasing them in the game.

"We cannot spoil the game," he laughed and then reached out and slapped the majestic head eunuch on his ample behind. "Tulip it seems you are "it". Go catch one of my kids." The shocked face of the head of his household made both the Bey and his concubine burst out laughing. They left the old man to the game and climbed the hill to the palace.

---888—

She held the silver teapot high in the air and poured the tea skilfully in the small cups on the silver serving tray on the floor. After all those months in the harem of the Bey she could do that even without thinking. The spicy drank foamed like it should in the small glasses. The smell of fresh mint tickled her nose.

She offered a glass to the ruler of Tunis. His eyes did follow every movement of her.

"Come sit with me my Sweet." He padded on a cushion beside him. She picked up her own glass and obediently sank down next to him. They drank their mint tea in silence.

Reaching out to the sesame cookies she offered him the plate to pick from. Strong fingers picked up a cookie but instead of eating it he pushed it softly against her lower lip. She smiled and ate it out of his hand. Her tongue sucking the honey from his fingers. She never realised eating pastry could be so erotic.

Sara wondered why he had brought her here to his balcony. Certainly not to have tea with her. Behind the curtains she could see his sleeping area. Did he bring here to bed her? What else would a haremgirl be doing in the master's bedroom?

"Sara I am planning to go for an inspection trip to the south. Monastir, Sousse... I plan to take you with me. You will like the Roman Amphitheatre in El Djem and the Rabats in Sousse and Monastir. Sousse has some pretty mosaic floors... You need to ride a horse though. A covered camel will slow us down too much. In the next two weeks one of the eunuchs will supervise your lessons."

Her sense of adventure kicked in. To see places. To go on a trip. Away from the palace. Then she remembered.

"Lord our son..."

"Fatma will take care of him and of the other kids while you are away."

"But my milk..."

"Listen my Sweet. I cannot stand the thought of being away from you for two months..."

His index finger stroked her jawline. His dark eyes warm and soft.

"I would miss you Sara. Our son is only three months old. Way too young to travel and Fatma needs to care for the other children too. I will show you places when we travel. You will be my interpreter, my scribe and my woman..."

She realised the ruler who governed the whole coastal realm of Tunis in the name of the Ottoman sultan was trying to convince her to come with him. To convince her, not to order. She took his hand and held it in both of hers on her lap.

" I would love to come my lord. But if we leave your son here my milk will dry up."

"He will be almost six months when we come back but if you want to keep your milk running I can drink it. But you know my sweet I rather put a baby in your belly. When mothers still nurse that is harder. Do you not want to see yourself grow round with my child?"

Immediately she pictured herself heavy with child. The man whose strong hand now rested in hers standing behind her, his arms all around her. A strong longing made her chest heavy. She looked into his eyes. This man so different from the Dutch one she had been married to. But was he so different from her own countrymen? Some who were descendants from the Spanish soldiers had sharp noses, aquilar cheekbones and dark hair as well. Was he so different because he was of another culture married to two ladies and with a household with slaves and eunuchs?

Yes he was.

But on the other hand had ever one of her Dutch neighbours and her father's friends ever told her they would miss her? Offered to take her on an adventure? Made her want to have their children?

Yes want to have his children. Want him.

She looked at him and boldly moved herself into his lap, her arms wrapping themselves around his torso. She felt him chuckle. His arms enveloped her now as well.

"So that is a yes my Sweet?"

---888—

Sarah stood on one of the upper floosr of the ancient amphitheatre. She was imagining how it would have looked in the Roman era. Matrons in their capes, rich men in their togas, gladiators or wild animals in the arena. Now the stones were crumbling but the grandeur of ancient times was still easy to see.

The village of El Djem itself was small. According to the Bey in the old days the town must have been a lot more important as so many more people had lived there.

The sun burned. Her long white cape, the haik, did protect her a bit against the sunburn but nevertheless did she feel so hot and lightheaded. The veil on her face blocking off the fresh air.

In the arena the soldiers and the eunuchs that accompanied her were laughing and having fun. The young men pretending to be the heroes of old.

She sat down on a bench in the shade willing herself to feel better. The Bey was still in the home of his local governor and had said that he would come and pick her up and then they would continue their travel to the holy city Kerouan.

They had travelled the coastline for weeks visiting Sousse and Monastir. Walled towns with a harbour protected by a fortress with religious warriors called the Rabat. She had feasted her eyes looking down from the tower, the courtyard of the mosque at her feet, the buzzling citystreets, the rooftop gardens of the houses.

People had shown her floors that had still the original Roman mosaics. The Bey had bought her necklaces. She had drunk tea on a roof overlooking the harbour. It had been a lot of travelling but she had utterly enjoyed it.

Somehow however she suspected that she had something bad to eat during their stop in Mahdia. Was it the fish? Her stomach seemed to whirl and she was not hungry at all. To her dismay she had been throwing up this morning soiling the beautiful bedcover of her lovely hostess.

They had left the coast and were now about to turn back to the north and towards home.

She smiled. Home. Yes it was her home. Her cool bedroom, the garden overlooking the bay with the hazy hills in the background, the women and children and the Bey.