Chapter 3: Betrayal

About eight weeks after we first arrived at Wadi Halaf there is finally news about the ransoms demanded for our freedom. I suspect there has been constant action on that front, but we have been kept in the dark about progress until now. We aren’t given the details of the negotiations, but we are told that all but six of us are to be released tomorrow. The names of those to be freed are read out with great ceremony. Needless to say there is wild jubilation among those about to be set free.

It comes as no surprise to me that Annie’s, Katie’s, Molly’s, Connie’s, Helen’s and my ransoms are unpaid and that we won’t be joining the others tomorrow. Julia had been concerned that she too would be staying, but one way or another her ransom was paid. Even though I already knew the likely outcome, the news that we will remain here is like a kick in the guts. A’isha promptly orders that we are separated from the others. Whether this is to spare our feelings during the celebration, or for some other purpose we have yet to determine. Samed takes us to the room Rebecca discovered while exploring on our second day here. That little adventure resulted in me receiving two strokes of Samed’s cane on the souls of my feet, so this room holds unpleasant memories for me. Samed stands guard outside the door, but we are otherwise left alone to ponder our fate.

“What do you think will become of us?” asks Helen.

“A’isha originally said we had six months for our ransom to be paid,” I reply. “In my case the time limit makes no difference since I’ve nobody who will pay for my release. What about the rest of you?”

Annie, Katie and Molly were formerly ladies maids and have no family with the kind of money required to secure their release. Both Connie and Helen wrote to their respective fathers but they knew from the outset that they were unwanted offspring, so held out little hope of their ransom being paid. Unwanted perhaps, but I find it reprehensible that a bishop and an earl are so callous as to sentence one of their offspring to a life of slavery.

“They may still pay up,” I say to Connie and Helen, not really believing my own words.

The hours pass and eventually we are brought trays of food and drink. It is early evening before A’isha arrives. She looks every bit as harassed as she did the day we arrived at Wadi Halaf. I suppose she is charged with making all the arrangements for the release of the 26 women who will be leaving tomorrow.

“Samed will shortly take you to say farewell to your friends,” says A’isha. “You will be allowed an hour to say goodbye, after which you will moved somewhere else. The arrangements for the release of your friends are complex so I regret that you will be kept somewhere out of the way until your friends and their escort have departed.”

I can understand the need for careful planning and A’isha’s desire to keep spectators out of the way. Presumably armed men of both sides will be in close proximity and one small misunderstanding could quickly escalate into a full battle. A’isha is wanting to prevent anyone thinking there is an opportunity to try to free us in the process but instead end up starting a massacre.

“What is to become of us afterwards?” asks Helen.

“My brother has yet to decide,” replies A’isha. “Four of you never sent a letter about your ransom, and Connie’s and Helen’s letters have been answered with a flat refusal to pay anything for your release. I know I said you had six months for a ransom to be paid, but that seems a pointless wait for something that is clearly never going to happen. I’m sure Hassan won’t keep you waiting any longer than necessary before telling you what he decides about your futures.”

I’m equally sure Hassan will have already decided our fate but he doesn’t want us telling our departing friends in case they or their escort tomorrow try to rescue us. On one hand I’m delighted most of our friends are finally gaining their freedom, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive about what will happen to the six of us afterwards.

Samed takes us back to join the others in the main harem. Our farewells are tearful and full of promises from our friends that we won’t be forgotten, and that the oath we made onboard the Humphrey will be honoured. Whether any of them will be in a position to secure our freedom once they return to their privileged life is an open question. Strangely, for several of them, they’ve enjoyed more personal freedom locked up here in the harem at Wadi Halaf than they enjoyed in the strictly controlled society they left behind. Most of them have no idea what will become of them once they leave here. Will they continue their journey to India or be returned to Europe?

The hour we are allowed for farewells soon passes. The six of us who are to remain are told to put on our djellabas and be ready to depart Wadi Halaf in ten minutes. We must gather our few possessions and bring them with us. Mustafa is placed in charge of us and he has us board the same covered wagon that took me and the other dancers to and from the festival. The same coffle chain is locked onto our left ankles. The rear curtains are closed so that we can’t see out. The wagon departs without delay.

It’s a very short journey. In fact we don’t even pass through the gates of Wadi Halaf before the wagon stops and we are told to quickly disembark. Such is the haste that we aren’t unlocked from the coffle chain. We are hurried inside a nearby building and the reinforced door quickly closed behind us. Before the door closes completely I manage to get a glimpse of the wagon continuing its journey as though we are still onboard.

“Sleep here tonight,” says Mustafa as he indicates a line of mattresses along one wall. “And keep quiet. Your lives may depend on it.”

His ominous warning only adds to the complete bemusement we are experiencing. Mustafa locks the door behind him when he leaves. We are left alone in what appears to be a disused storeroom. The only windows are high on the wall facing the courtyard, and the door is the only entrance. The solid rear wall of the storeroom could be part of the thick outer wall of Wadi Halaf.

“What’s going on?” whispers Molly, more for the sake of saying something than expecting a serious answer. Sure enough, a few shrugs are the only answers she gets.

With us locked in the coffle chain, any prospect of escaping through the high windows is a forlorn hope. Besides, where could we go if we did get out of here? We can do nothing other than what Mustafa ordered and settle down to sleep. It seems that we are completely forgotten. Nobody arrives with food and the pitcher of water in the room is empty by early morning.

We are finally released from our prison, although not the coffle chain, the following afternoon. Mustafa collects us and marches us back to the harem. There is no sign of the other captive women, and it seems likely that they have already left. We heard nothing from the confines of our prison, which turns out to be tucked away in a small courtyard behind the barracks, and therefore well away from the main gate.

A’isha joins us and promptly orders Mustafa to release us from the coffle chain. The look on her face suggests things have not gone to plan this morning.

“Jacqueline, my brother wishes to speak with you. Please come with me. The rest of you should go and help Jamilah in reorganising the sleeping arrangements now that your friends have gone.”

“Is there a problem?” I ask A’isha as we walk across to the administration building. “Is everyone alright?”

“My brother will explain,” replies A’isha. “As far as I’m aware, all the freed captives were handed over to Lebranleur’s French mercenaries who were to escort them to the waiting ship.”

“But...” I prompt, sensing there is more to her story.

“Hassan will explain,” is all A’isha will say.

Hassan is waiting for us, so I’m not left in ignorance for long. I’m invited to sit, and Hassan orders refreshments to be brought in. That at least saves my rumbling stomach from interrupting our conversation.

“It seems that Louis Lebranleur has betrayed our agreement. The French mercenaries he arranged to escort the freed women to the waiting English ship have instead handed them over to pirates. Fortunately the English seemed to be alert to the possibility of Lebranleur’s treachery and they managed to safely recover most of the women. Unfortunately four of your friends are still in the hands of Lebranleur and his mercenaries. They fled south. I sent men to follow them but Lebranleur had a ship waiting for him and his men. They were seen boarding a French sloop with the four captives.

“I am preparing a ship to chase them, but I need someone to join my expedition who can ensure the four women recognise that they are being rescued rather than fought over by another crew of pirates. It will be a dangerous mission but I’m asking you to join us?”

I need no prompting to agree to try and rescue my friends, but I sense an opportunity to help those still held here.

“If I agree, will you give Annie, Katie, Molly, Connie, Helen and I our freedom when we return?”

“If we rescue your friends held by Lebranleur, and save any further unpleasantness between the English and my family, then I will show my gratitude by doing as you ask.”

“What about the English ship? Is it pursuing Lebranleur?”

“No. The captain has orders to return directly to England. Besides, the pirate ship didn’t surrender without a fight and the English ship took some damage. It will be a few days before they are seaworthy enough to sail.”

Hassan and I, together with eight of his soldiers, board the Ghazal in the middle of the night. We set sail almost immediately. I’m given a space behind the kitchen storeroom to call my own. It’s tiny but there’s enough room to sling a hammock. Hassan arranges for me to be given a set of clothes more appropriate for onboard a ship. Harem silks look completely out of place, not that any of the crew were complaining.

Hassan clearly doesn’t trust me entirely since he has an iron collar locked around my neck denoting that I’m his property. I suppose the collar could be a warning to the crew to keep their hands and cocks to themselves, but I doubt Hassan would be unduly concerned if every man aboard sampled the delights of one or all of my holes. I wouldn’t mind either. I am constantly feeling horny after weeks of abstinence from male company.

I do my best to ignore the slave collar around my neck. It feels good to be back at sea and before long I’m clambering up the rigging like old times. The Ghazal is a two masted brigantine, so she will be larger and faster than Lebranleur’s sloop. Her crew of fifteen, together with the ten of us who joined last night, should be enough to handle Lebranleur’s mercenaries and crew. I presume the Ghazal’s captain has some idea where to go since Lebranleur has nearly twelve hours head start on us.