Chapter 2: The Festival

My routine for the next couple of days is much the same. In the morning I work with the other captives in the laundry, kitchen or in cleaning the harem. Cleanliness and hygiene are almost an obsession with A’isha. In the afternoon I join Catherine, Sally, Elena, Ruth, and Julia for dancing practise for the upcoming festival. The festival is tomorrow and while I think our dancing has improved dramatically under Fatima’s guidance, she always insists that we can do better.

We aren’t told much about the festival other than it will last for several days and that the six of us will be entertaining about forty men during the evening of the first day. Samed and Mustafa will be escorting us to the venue, which we gather will be in Salé itself. I can’t be the only one who is having mixed feelings about doing this, but we aren’t being given any alternative options. Even A’isha is nervous, and she’ll be staying at Wadi Halaf until later in the festival. I can’t help feeling this festival is going to be like walking into a room full of gunpowder carrying a naked flame.

The day of the festival arrives. The six of us are excused work duty in the morning and given the opportunity to do one final practise. The afternoon is spent in the baths scrubbing ourselves clean and allowing ourselves to be perfumed and decorated with jewels. The value of each dancer’s jewels probably exceeds the ransom demanded for her release, and I admit I am contemplating making a piece or two quietly disappear later.

Transport to the venue is by covered wagon. We are carefully positioned in the wagon to prevent our costumes becoming ruffled. It’s not particularly comfortable, but I’ve endured worse. The whole effect is somewhat spoilt when Samed locks a coffle chain to each of our left ankles. I wasn’t planning on trying to escape tonight, since such a move would be ridiculously stupid while dressed in this costume. I’m more offended by the insult to my intelligence than the physical restriction. But none of us have any say in the matter.

The journey takes about half an hour by which time evening is approaching. The wagon cover is pulled back to reveal that we are inside a walled courtyard of an opulent mansion. Needless to say, we have no idea where we are. We are ordered to disembark still wearing the coffle chain and Samed leads us into a nearby building. Mustafa is following behind and both men seem more than usually alert for trouble. We pass several people in the corridors, but none of them speak to us. Only once we are inside a windowless room and a grille door locked behind us does Samed remove the coffle chain.

“Keep together at all times, and return here if there is any trouble,” says Samed. “Trust nobody you don’t know. If for any reason you find yourself separated from the rest, then stay where you are and say nothing. Mustafa or I will come for you.”

If we were feeling nervous before, then Samed’s words have done nothing to ease our concerns. Indeed, weaker souls would be terrified at this point. But our captivity has had the unintended side effect of strengthening our unity and resolve. As long as we are together, we will come through this okay. We hope.

The room we are kept in has been prepared for us. There are six rolled up mattresses along one wall and tables with pitchers of water and a few plates of light foods. A small annex is clearly for ablutions. Lighting is provided by a mixture of candles and lanterns. The facilities are basic but adequate for our needs. Samed and Mustafa leave us to ourselves and stand guard in the corridor on the other side of the grille. I don’t fail to notice that Samed locks the grille behind him. Whether that’s to keep us in, or visitors out, is an open question.

Over the next hour there are several men who come to briefly talk with Samed and Mustafa. After receiving one such visit, Samed tells us that we will be summoned to the main hall in about fifteen minutes and that we should prepare ourselves.

At the appointed time Samed and one of the house servants escort us to the main hall. Mustafa remains behind to guard our room, although quite why that is necessary isn’t explained. We hear the sound of music and laughter long before we see the entrance to the main hall. The closer we get to the hall, the more numerous the guards stationed at strategic points become. If anyone was planning an armed assault on the place, then they would need to bring an army. We are admitted to the hall through a side door and discreetly taken to a small annex where we can make our final preparations. A troupe of African male dancers are finishing up their performance and only one or two of the guests even notice our arrival.

In the brief interlude which follows the end of the African dancers’ performance, I take a quick look at the audience. There are nearly a hundred people in the room, although only about forty are guests. The remainder are servants, musicians and a few squads of guards trying to look inconspicuous. The guests seem to include military officers, merchants, diplomats and officials of several nations. Although I’ve never seen Lord Exmouth, I identify him by his uniform and the description of his features I once read. Among the merchants are Hassan and his uncle. I can’t see Hassan’s cousins or Louis Lebranleur, but I only have time for a quick scan.

At the appointed signal, we gracefully glide into the centre of the performing area. The music starts and we begin the first of the five dances we are to perform. The first dance isn’t overly erotic but it is nevertheless greeted with lewd remarks and words of encouragement from the audience. I concentrate on my dancing and ignore the audience for the time being. The first dance ends without any major mistakes on our part, and we are allowed a couple of minutes break. It’s only then that I realise that Catherine is in a near panic.

“My father is in the audience,” gasps Catherine. “What am I to do?”

“You dance as we practised,” I reply, suddenly getting an insight into what this charade is about. “That is, unless you want to feel Samed’s cane on the souls of your feet afterwards.”

We resume our performance. To give Catherine credit, she overcomes her panic and does precisely as I said. This time I pay more attention to the audience. I don’t know which of several well dressed European men is Catherine’s father, but I finally spot Louis Lebranleur skulking to one side in the company of the vile Nathaniel Wickliffe. While some of the men look on horrified as we perform increasingly erotic dances, most of the audience simply enjoy the spectacle of near naked young women prancing about for their delight.

The spectacle is over is just under an hour and we are returned to our room. Abal and Jamilah, two of the free women I’ve seen at Wadi Halaf, are waiting for us. They collect the jewels we are wearing and place them in a box. They carefully check off each item against a list they a carrying, so my plan to pilfer some of the pieces is thwarted. Satisfied all the jewels are accounted for, the two women lock the box and leave us to our thoughts. It’s only then that Catherine sheds some tears. I let Elena comfort her while I check that none of the other girls saw relations in the audience.

“What is going on?” asks Sally.

“This is all part of Wickliffe’s negotiations for our ransoms. Your parents will probably have asked for proof that we are alive and that Wickliffe represents whoever is holding us. It’s a favourite Barbary Pirate ploy to negotiate a ransom from the father while he knows his daughter is locked up in the pirate’s harem and completely at his mercy. Our dancing only reinforced the apparent nature of our confinement.”

“But Hassan has never touched any of us sexually,” says Julia.

“True, but Wickliffe isn’t about to tell your parents that. On the contrary, he can encourage them to pay more if they believe they are rescuing you from debauchery.”

“But what about the military officers. Why are they here?”

“They will be more experienced in handling negotiations and can probably ensure the whole sordid affair reaches a solution without too many people getting killed in the process. It’s possible that the English admiral has been placed in charge of negotiations for the release of some, if not all, of us.”