Prisoner
of the Seraglio
A
Cordelia Delacourt Adventure
Chapter
7 Der
Ballon
Cordelia was so sore she could barely walk, but she forced herself to make her way to the small room where the members of the harem attended to their private functions. More than anything else she needed a bath, but did not know if she was up to facing the other girls. In just a few short hours her life had completely changed. Yesterday she had been a chaste English maiden. Now she was another of the bey’s concubines whether she wished it or not. She could not stand the thought of facing the knowing smiles of her harem companions.
Companions was not exactly the right word. Some of the girls, like Rabab were friendly toward her; others like Akilah regarded her as a rival. For the members of the harem their relationship with the bey was everything. Their entire world revolved around his wishes and to be regarded as one of his favourites gave them status. To be impregnated and give birth to a son gave them greater status yet.
Cordelia, however, had no wish to share in that status. She only wanted to find some way to escape from her dire predicament. She was English in every way. To be forced into what she regarded as sexual slavery was unbelievably humiliating. But there was little she could do about it. Unless some sort of a miracle occurred she was doomed to spend the rest of her life pleasing her master.
Farizah interrupted her thoughts, calling to her from outside the room. “Come child. You cannot stay in there all day. You must bathe and be ready if the bey should call on you again.”
Reluctantly Cordelia accompanied Farizah to the bathing pool. As she expected she received a number of knowing grins as she entered. Akilah’s mocking smile was particularly noticeable. Rabab, however, showed not the slightest sign of jealousy. However, her excited chatter was just as bad.
“Oh,” the girl exclaimed. “You must tell me what it was like. The first time is so exciting. Were you very afraid? Was it pleasurable?”
“Allow the girl time to answer,” Farizah ordered. “And in the meantime help her to bathe. I suspect the bey will call for her again.”
A shudder ran through Cordelia. How many more times must she submit to the bey before he tired of her? And what if she became pregnant as she was almost certain to do if the bey continued to call for her? “I’ve got to escape,” she thought. “I’ve just got to.” But she knew that she never would. She was trapped for the rest of her life.
As she had feared, and Farizah had predicted, the bey did call for her. The second time she knew what to expect, but that did not make it any more pleasant. She cried out as the bey penetrated her. He was oblivious to her pain, although he must have known how sore she would be. Her body hurt everywhere, from her nipples to gates of pleasure. She felt like a filly that had been ridden too hard and not given time to rest. To her shame in spite of the pain she responded as she had the night before, gasping in excitement as pleasure eclipsed the pain. The next day, stiff and sore, she sought help, and she got it from an unlikely but strangely predictable quarter.
“Why would you ask for such a thing?” Akilah asked. “Surely you do not wish to deny our lord what is rightfully his.”
“Does it matter why I want it?” Cordelia responded. “You were once the favourite of the bey. It is in your interest to help me.”
Akilah smiled slyly. “Yes,” she agreed. “You are right. But no one must learn of this.”
Cordelia nodded. “No one will. I swear on my honour as an Englishwoman.”
“I do not know what that is worth,” Akilah responded, but I will get what you want.”
It was a bitter concoction, but Cordelia drank all of it. It crossed her mind that Akilah could just as easily given her poison, but she had no choice. The bey had taken her to his bed again. This time there was little pain, but it was only a matter of time until she was with child. If she died then at least she would be spared that humiliation.
The bey sent for her again. This time as he welcomed her to his bed he did not take her the way he had the first three times.
“Tonight,” he said, “it is time for you to begin to learn how to please a man. You are no longer a fresh young virgin. If you are to continue to please me you must learn the arts of love.”
Cordelia dared not tell him that she had no desire to please any man, much less the man who had forcibly taken her maidenhead. Bowing to his will, she did as she was told. At the end of the night she earned his praise and had one more reason to resent the man who dominated every aspect of her life.
There was also one more ordeal she had to undergo. She found out what Akilah had meant by the word “permanent” in regard to her body hair.
The day after her first lesson with the bey she was descended upon by no fewer than six female attendants and several members of the harem including Akilah. The girls had a variety of grooming tools with them but the most sinister were a number of fine metal tweezers. In spite of her protests she was forced to lie still for the next five hours while everything resembling a hair was plucked from her body. It was a humiliating and painful experience made more so by a burning cream that was rubbed into her skin as each area was finished.
“It destroys the roots,” Akilah told her cheerfully as Cordelia whimpered in pain. “No longer will you be unclean.”
Unclean or not, it was an experience almost as mortifying as the loss of her maidenhood and at the end of it she could do little more than lie in the cool waters of the pool and wish that she had never been born.
She had at least one thing to be thankful for. The herbal mixture that Akilah had obtained for her seemed to work. She did not conceive, despite being invited to the bey’s bed almost every night. She might be the bey’s sex slave, but at least she would not be forced to carry his child.
It was a feeble sort of resistance, but it was the only one she had. In spite of her desperate desire to escape there was no way out, and then quite by chance a bizarre twist of fate changed her life.
It began as a strange rumour. Akilah started it. Cordelia wasn’t surprised; in spite of the insular world of the harem, the girl had some sort of link to the outside.
“A great flying monster,” the girl said excitedly. “Large as a cloud and growling like thunder, it hangs over the city even now, threatening all of us with death.”
Akilah seemed especially delighted with the last comment or at least the sensation that it caused. She went on at great length about how the terrifying apparition was and how they were almost certainly doomed as there was little that the bey’s guards could do to protect them. Within minutes she had every girl in the harem looking for a place to hide; at least until Farizah showed up and told her to stop.
To Cordelia the story seemed too incredible to give it any credence, until she saw Farizah’s face. It was then that she determined that somehow she was going to find her way to the rooftop garden on top of the palace.
It wasn’t all that difficult. The garden, which was really no more than a collection of potted plants, offered little chance of escape. It was a four story drop to the ground. Most of the members of the harem ignored it, preferring to keep their tender skins out of the desert sun and preferring the poolside instead. Still, she was not supposed to go there unescorted. By now, however, she knew her way around the harem well enough to make her way to the stairs and slip up to the roof. She expected the stairs to be guarded, but they were almost ominously deserted. When she reached the roof she saw why.
“My god, what is it!” she exclaimed. Open-mouthed in amazement she stared at the most bizarre and marvelous object she had ever seen.
An enormous cigar-shaped machine hovered over the city. It was clearly man-made. Large fins projected from its stern and hanging beneath it was a gondola shaped like a mastless sailing vessel. Its similarity to a ship extended to a bowsprit and figurehead carved in the shape of an eagle with its wings spread and claws extended. Secured to the ship was a long horizontal boom and to each end of the boom were two sets of large paddles like the arms of a windmill.
Cordelia had never seen nor imagined anything like it, but she knew immediately that she was looking at her only chance of rescue. The question was how to attract the attention of the men who must have built such a marvelous contraption. Desperately she looked around for something – anything, that might catch the notice of the operators of the enormous flying machine.
Strangely, it did not occur to her that the sight of a beautiful young woman, wearing very little other than a diaphanous silk vest and pantaloons, was attraction enough in itself.
Waving her arms frantically, and screaming at the top of her lungs, she was astonished and gratified to see the two great windmills begin to turn. The slow movement was accompanied by an enormous clanking and whirring sound. Ponderously the immense flying machine began to move toward her.
“Thank the lord, they’ve seen me,” she blathered. She was so overcome with the thought of escape that it never occurred to her that whomever was operating the monstrous airship might be the least bit dangerous.
As the airship cast its shadow over her she suddenly realized just how big
it was. Its cigar-shaped body
was at least the length of a football field and the ship-like cabin hanging
beneath it was as large as the sailing vessel that had brought her to
At the last instant she almost panicked, especially when she realized that she had no idea how she was going to reach the ship. But just as she was about to change her mind a hatch opened in the bottom of the cabin and a rope ladder snaked out. Its lower rungs almost struck her in the head. Almost automatically Cordelia caught hold and attempted to climb up the writhing ladder.
“I can’t do this,” she gasped. Then she let out a scream as the airship suddenly lurched upward, leaving her hanging by one hand. Her mind reeled and she almost vomited as she swung over the twisting maze that was Timbuctou. Somehow she managed to hook her right leg through the lowest rung of the ladder, giving her a chance to grab hold with her other hand as well.
She hung on with all of her strength and then noticed that the hull of the ship was closer. The ladder was being pulled up. A few seconds later strong hands lay hold of her and dragged her through the hatch.
“Was zum teufel? Ein schlampe!” A voice cried out. Cordelia recognized that language as German, a language she had studied, but spoke only poorly. She knew enough, however, to realize that the exclamation was far from flattering.
Several uniformed men stood staring at her all-to-obvious charms with expressions that ranged from undisguised lust to mild embarrassment. Instinctively Cordelia tried to cover her breasts with her arms.
“Please,” she stammered when she was able to catch her breath. “I’m an English woman. I’ve been kidnapped,” she stammered. “I was sold into slavery.”
“Es tut mir Leid,” one of the men said and then switched to heavily accented English. Sorry, fraulein, but you’re not vearing any clothes.”
“Oh, thank god I’m safe,” Cordelia gasped. “I thought I was trapped forever.”
The man who had spoken stroked his long mustaches. He was older than the others and his blue and white uniform had a single gold eagle on each shoulder. “I take you to der Kapitan,” he said. He spoke a few words in German and one of the men ran off, appearing a few seconds later holding a jacket that matched the uniform he was wearing. Gratefully Cordelia put it on, hiding her barely clothed body.
As she was led through the cabin she took a good look at the strange world she had been pulled into. The entire structure seemed to be constructed of metal rather than wood, a fact that surprised her, and there was the steady thrum of machinery.
The sound faded somewhat as she was led up several flights of stairs finally emerging on a metal deck. Overhead loomed the great cloud-like mass of the balloon. The stairway continued climbing until it reached the envelope of the balloon itself and then disappeared into the interior. However, her guide took her no further, instead walking her along the open deck. Immediately a gust of wind tugged at her and Cordelia had to grip the oversized jacket tightly while her hair, which had come free of its golden bindings, whipped about her face.
They moved rather unsteadily toward what Cordelia thought of as the bow of the ship-shaped cabin. She noted that it was slung beneath the greater bulk of the cigar-shaped balloon by hundreds of guy-wires ingeniously arranged so that the cabin was held steady or nearly so. Every now and then the structure gave a lurch that threatened to knock Cordelia of her feet, although she noticed that the members of the crew seemed hardly affected.
Her escort motioned for her to stop. “Vait here,” he ordered I tell der Kapitan.”
The man he referred to stood on the very bow of the ship on a small railed platform that allowed him to look straight down if he chose. Cordelia’s escort spoke to him and he turned and fixed his gaze on her.
He was dressed like the other members of the crew in a blue uniform trimmed in white. On either shoulder three gold eagles indicated his rank and he wore a peaked hat with an eagle badge rather than the cap the other men wore. His dark van dyke beard was neatly trimmed and his mustaches were heavily waxed so that they jutted at an upward angle from his upper lip. A monocle was tightly gripped by the socket of his left eye. He smiled and bowed as he saw her.
“Ah,
der
nacktenglischer. Welcome
fraulein. I am Wolfgang von
Jagermeister, Kapitan of
der
Adler.”
“Adler,” mused Cordelia. The gigantic balloon more closely resembled a whale than an eagle, but she was careful to keep her thoughts to herself.
Cordelia curtsied as best she could considering her clothing and the swaying of the deck. She nervously eyed the edge of the deck and what she considered the inadequate railing that bounded it.
She introduced herself and then as best she could in the space of a minute blurted out her story. There was, of course, no time to fill in the many details and that was just as well. There were many things she had no intention of revealing to anyone. She did, however, manage to finish with a plea for further assistance.
“My companion, Elizabeth Brown is still captive. Is there no way you can help her?”
“Your story lacks specifics, Miss Delacourt,” von Jagermeister replied. “I would be very interested to have you tell me all of it later. In the meantime there is certainly something we can do about your companion.”
He barked out some orders in German. Immediately the members of the crew sprang into action. Cordelia noticed that although von Jagermeister seemed to prefer perching over the bow of the ship, the control apparatus was housed in a small cabin located about thirty feet from the bow. As the captain issued orders they were relayed to the cabin and from there to somewhere else in the ship through a speaking tube.
From below there came a series of loud mechanical sounds. One of the wires running to the cigar-shaped balloon tightened and the Adler began to slow and then turn ponderously.
“Come over here if you please, Miss Delacourt,” von Jagermeister said. “I think you might want to watch the fun.”
The German captain’s words were heavily accented, but understandable. There was no doubt that his English was much better than her German. She moved to stand beside him as requested, clutching the jacket tightly about her.
“Yes,” von Jagermeister said as he looked at her thinly concealed legs. “We will have to get you a more complete set of clothing. However, that can wait until later.” He swept his arm toward the ground. “Magnificent view, is it not?”
Cordelia gulped. Von Jagermeister’s perch allowed him to look straight down. The distance to the ground was dizzying and von Jagermeister pulled her toward himself to steady her.
“Relax, Miss Delacourt. You will soon get used to the altitude and then you can enjoy the view.”
Cordelia did not try to move away from his embrace. She was far too giddy from the excitement of standing over nothing to protest. She swallowed again and tied to focus on what she could see rather than the terrifying distance to the ground.
Below her the environs of Timbuctou were revealed in incredible detail. She was amazed at how different the world looked from above. Every track and field could be distinctly seen and as the Adler turned Timbuctou came slowly into view.
Cordelia was intrigued by the mechanisms that powered the huge airship. From her vantage point she could see that the huge boom that ran across the centre of the ship anchored a number of gears and pulleys that powered the two gigantic windmills that provided the propulsion. The Adler was actually turning in place, one of the windmills spinning in one direction and the other in the opposite so that the immense aerial vehicle turned on its axis and then moved ponderously back over Timbuctou.
“Now,” von Jagermeister said, “we will retrieve your companion.” He shouted orders to one of the crew members and the Adler began to drift toward the palace.
Looking down over the city could see that the streets were completely deserted. The inhabitants of the city had fled to whatever hiding places they could find, no doubt completely terrified of the aerial monster that lumbered over their city.
The enormous airship came to a halt directly over the palace. Von Jagermeister issued another series of orders and suddenly a voice boomed from the lower reaches of the ship. Even distorted by distance and echoes Cordelia could make out what was being said. In very bad Songhay the speaker was demanding that the English woman known as Elizabeth Brown be surrendered.
“What if there is no reply?” Cordelia asked. “I do not even know if my companion is still in the city.”
“Then I have other means of persuasion,” von Jagermeister answered. “People on the ground have no defense against attack from the air. At the same time there is little that they can do to us. At this elevation even bullets from modern weapons cannot reach us. And I doubt that the primitives below us have much more than antique muskets.”
Von Jagermeister looked at Cordelia, his eyes studying her closely. “Perhaps while we are waiting I will have Bueller see if he can’t find you something that fits you better. You are really not properly attired for my ballon.” He turned to the man who had given her the oversized jacket. “Take Miss Delacourt below and see if there is anything in her size.”
The man clicked his heels smartly in the Prussian style and bowed to Cordelia before straightening and indicating with a sweep of his arm that Cordelia should follow him.
Weaving her way across the deck she trotted behind Bueller as he led her to the companionway she had ascended only a few minutes ago. He took her down two levels and along a corridor lined with closed doors until they reached a final door. Bueller opened it and motioned that Cordelia should enter. Dozens of lockers lined the inside of the room, each one labeled with what Cordelia supposed was a clothing size.
From one he took a set of undergarments, from another a pair of pants, and still another a short-sleeved shirt, finally finishing by selecting a pair of boots and a jacket. He handed her the neatly folded bundle with the boots on top. “I am afraid ve haff no clothing for ein fraulein,” he apologized. “But zees should fit.”
Cordelia nodded her thanks. “Follow me,” Bueller continued. “Ve find someplace for you to change.”
He led her back down the corridor and down one more flight of stairs and down still another corridor before stopping before a door. “Ve don’t haff much space, fraulein. But zis vill be your room.”
“Thank you, Cordelia,” answered, “I’m happy for anything.”