Taming Charlotte by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

clogs.
    Charlotte donned the robe gratefully, but she looked at the clogs with concern. The soles were four inches thick.
    “I’ll fall and break my neck if I wear these,” she said bluntly.
    Alev shrugged and sent Pakize away with the sandals. “Come then,” she said, clapping her hands at Charlotte now, though not in quite such an authoritative way as she had with the servant. “I will show you the seraglio.”
    Charlotte was still anxious, but she was interested, too. How many Americans—female or otherwise—got a firsthand look at the inside of a harem, after all? Why, she could write a book about her experiences when she reached home, perhaps even go on the lecture circuit, like those women who had been taken captive by Indians and later released. She would be a person of notoriety and renown, inciting controversy everywhere she went.
    “These are the baths, of course,” Alev was saying, pointing out other pools, all sizable and all lined with richly painted tiles. There were couches everywhere, and thick cushions dotted the splendid marble floor, so cool and smooth under Charlotte’s bare feet. At least a dozen other women watched their passing with open curiosity.
    “Unlike many Europeans and Americans,” Alev continued, “we bathe every day, sometimes more than once. It is a very pleasant ritual, often taking hours.”
    Charlotte thought of her own bath and shivered with residual pleasure. She’d never had a more sensually soothing experience.
    They walked under another great archway, ornately decorated, and entered a huge room.
    “This is the
hamam,
where we gather to socialize, sew, play games, watch various entertainments that are arranged for us—things of that nature.”
    The walls of the
hamam
were high, like those of a great room in an English castle, and beautiful weavings hung between towering, arched windows. Here, too, women lounged on beautiful couches, or talked and laughed softly in little clusters, but there was a new element.
    A handsome black man stood on a dais, arms folded, watching the goings-on with a placid expression.
    Charlotte tugged at Alev’s sleeve. “A eunuch?” she asked, recalling the stories she’d read.
    Alev smiled. “Yes.”
    God knew, she’d never have laid eyes on a real, live eunuch in Quade’s Harbor—wait until she told Millie about this! “Is he a servant, like Pakize?”
    Alev laughed and shook her head. “No. Except for Khalif himself, and the
sultana valide,
his mother, no one has more authority in the harem. Rashad keeps order among usmainly, and arbitrates disputes, so that Khalif and the sultana needn’t be bothered.”
    After the
hamam,
Alev led the way to a spacious courtyard, where palm and date trees offered blessed shade, along with a single stately elm. Here, still more women sat on benches, embroidering or simply keeping quietly to themselves.
    “Why does one man need so many wives?” Charlotte whispered. She was looking at the elm tree as she spoke. It was close to the stone wall, and might lend an avenue of escape, should the need arise.
    After all her cordiality, Alev was impatient with the question. “They are not wives,” she said tersely, reining in Charlotte’s attention by her tone alone. “Some of them will never be called to Khalif’s apartments. Others will be sold or traded or given as gifts. Only the special ones become
odalisques,
let alone favorites or
kadins. “
    The words “sold or traded or given as gifts” stuck in Charlotte’s mind like stinging nettles. “You are slaves,” she said. “All of you, no matter how much favor you might enjoy!”
    Alev returned Charlotte’s gaze with coolness. “If we are slaves, so are you,” she said, in an even tone. “No matter what your captain may have told you.”
    A chill spiraled down Charlotte’s spine, but she refused to give in to her fears or sacrifice her principles to circumstance. “You should revolt, all of you,” she whispered. “You should stand