Rustan stayed behind to shut the outer door, and Zoë felt that she was
carried as much as twenty paces forward and upwards before the bearers
stood still at last. Then the sliding panel opened, letting in light,
and a strange voice told her to get out. She turned inside the
palanquin and thrust out her naked feet. As she put them down,
expecting to touch bare earth or a stone pavement, they rested on a
rough carpet; at the same instant she sat on the edge of the litter
bending her head to get out of it and looking round curiously.
Rustan was not there, and in his place she saw a huge young negress
with flaming red hair and rolling eyes, who roughly ordered the
porters to take away the palanquin and at the same time caught Zoë's
wrist, whether to help her to stand upright or to secure her person it
was hard to say. The girl was much more fearless than Omobono, the
Venetian secretary, and she was not frightened by the gigantic woman's
appearance, as he had been. In getting out she had managed to gather
the cloak round her, so that the men should not see her in her rags;
for there was light in the large room where she found herself, and now
that she could look about her she saw a dozen or more girls and young
women standing in small groups a few paces behind the negress. They
surveyed the new arrival curiously, but with different expressions.
Some seemed to pity her, others smiled as if to welcome her; one
good-looking girl had noticed that she had no shoes, and her lip
curled contemptuously at such a proof of abject poverty, for she
herself was the daughter of a prosperous Caucasian horse-thief who had
brought her up in plenty and ease in order that she might fetch a high
price. The bearers had now left the room and there were no men
present. Zoë vaguely wished that they would come back, even the black
bearers of the litter, for she felt a very womanly woman's distrust of
her own sex, where so many who were strangers, and possibly not
well-disposed to her, were gathered together to look at her.
The negress surveyed her critically by the light of the large bronze
lamp that stood on a stand beside her, and showed her sharp teeth in
an approving smile that made her thick upper lip roll upwards on
itself. She took the cloak from Zoë's shoulders and scrutinised her
half-clad figure, till she blushed red. Then the daughter of the
Caucasian horse-thief laughed rudely, and some of the others tittered
while the negress gently pinched Zoë's bare arms and neck to judge of
their firmness and of her general condition. Apparently the
examination was tolerably satisfactory, for the woman nodded and
grinned again. As yet not a word had been spoken since she had
dismissed the bearers, but now she turned towards the other girls and
called two of them.
'Lucilla and Yulia, you shall wait on her,' she said in Greek. 'The
rest of you, to bed! It is already three hours of the night.'
Two dark-skinned girls in coarse blue linen clothes came forward with
alacrity, evidently much pleased at being chosen for the office. They
were ordinary slave-girls of fourteen or fifteen years, who would be
sold for house-work, and had no pretensions to good looks. Their
tightly plaited black hair was compressed into the smallest possible
space at the backs of their heads, and they wore small red caps,
coarsely embroidered, but neat and fresh. Their faces were much alike
though they were not sisters. Zoë saw instantly that they were
children of slaves of nondescript breed with a small admixture of
African blood, of the race that swarmed in Constantinople.
'Go to bed, I say!' cried the negress to the others, seeing that some
of them were inclined to linger. 'Be off!'
They saw her hand move towards the whip in her girdle and they ran for
the door, crowding on each other like sheep at the gate when the dogs
drive them into the fold. Having produced this desired result, the
negress turned to Zoë again, and her manner suddenly became caressing
and almost fawning.
'You are mistress here, Kokóna,' she said. 'These two girls shall wait
on you while our humble roof is honoured by your presence. If you have
the slightest cause of discontent with their service, only tell me,
and they shall be taught their duty.'
Again her hand went significantly to her girdle, and she rolled her
terrible eyes. The two maids shrank visibly at a threat of which they
had already felt the meaning.
Zoë was not so dull as to misunderstand the negress's manner. The
favourite slave of some high and mighty personage, of the Emperor
himself, perhaps, would have power, if only for a time, and the wife
of Karaboghazji lost no time in making a bid for such patronage.
'I am a slave, as these girls are,' Zoë answered, laying a kindly hand
on the shoulder of the one nearest to her.
Both maids gazed up into her face with a sort of wondering gratitude.
'I am here to be sold, just as you are,' Zoë added, returning their
look. The negress laughed loudly, for she was evidently in a good
humour.
'Also the noble peacock and the sparrow are both birds, though the
feathers are different!' she cried. 'But the Kokóna is hungry and
cold,' she continued, in a tone of servile anxiety for Zoë's comfort.
'Will she not perhaps take a bath and change her clothes before
supper? Everything is ready.'
'I have supped,' answered Zoë, who had eaten a piece of black bread,
'but as for clothes, I should like to put on the cloak again, for I
feel cold.'
She had hardly spoken before the two maids had wrapped her in the warm
mantle.
'Thank you,' she said to them, and she turned to the negress. 'You
seem to be mistress here. May I go to bed now?'
'Yes, I am the mistress,' answered the African woman, all her teeth
gleaming in the lamplight. 'I am Rustan Karaboghazji's wife, Kokóna.'
Zoë could not repress a movement of surprise. The negress laughed.
'Rustan is a wise man,' she said with a tremendous grin. 'It is
cheaper to marry one woman with a strong hand than to keep a couple of
smooth-faced thieves for gaolers, as most of the people in our
business do. If the Kokóna will please to follow me I will show her
the room I have prepared.'
Zoë bent her head and followed, for the negress was already leading
the way. They entered a room of fair dimensions which had evidently
been got ready with considerable care, for it contained everything
that a woman accustomed to comfort could require. A good Persian
carpet covered the floor; a narrow, but handsomely chiselled bronze
bedstead was furnished with two mattresses, spotless linen, and a warm
coverlet of silk and wool; on a marble table stood a little mirror of
polished metal, before which lay two ivory combs and a number of ivory
and silver hairpins and other little things needful for a woman's
toilet; there stood also a gilt lamp with three beaks, which shed a
pleasant light upon everything; a low curtained door at the end of the
room gave access to the small bathroom, where another little lamp was
burning. The negress drew the curtain back and showed the place to
Zoë, who had certainly not expected to spend her first night of
slavery in such luxurious quarters. Rustan's wife opened a large
wardrobe, too, and showed her a plentiful supply of fine linen and
clothes, neatly folded and lying on shelves. In the middle of the room
a round table was prepared with three dishes, one containing some
small cold birds, another a salad, and a third mixed sweetmeats, and
there was also wine and water in small silver flagons, and one silver
drinking-cup. It was long indeed since Zoë had seen anything like
this, and her eyes smarted suddenly when she realised that the
slave-dealer's prison reminded her faintly of her old home. For it was
a prison after all; she guessed that beyond the shutters of the closed
window there were stout iron bars, and as she had entered she had seen
a big key in the lock on the outside of the door.
'It is late,' said the negress, when she had shown everything. 'The
girls will sleep on the floor, for the carpet is good and there are
two blankets for them, there in the corner. Good-night, Kokóna. By
what name shall I call the Kokóna? The Kokóna will excuse her
servant's ignorance!'
Zoë hesitated a moment. She had not thought of changing her name, but
now she felt all at once that as a slave she must cut off all
connection with her former life. What if the personage who was to buy
her should turn out to have known her mother, and even herself, and
should recognise her by her name? A resemblance of face could be
explained away, but her face and her name together would certainly
betray her. It was not so much that she feared the open shame of being
recognised as Michael Rhangabé's adopted daughter; she had grown used
to the meaning of the word slavery during those last desperate days.
But people would not fail to say that Kyría Agatha had sold her
adopted daughter into slavery in order to save herself and her own
children from misery. Zoë could prevent that, and she only
hesitated long enough to choose the name by which she was to be known.
'Call me Arethusa,' she said.
Her thoughts had flown back to the deed of justice she meant to do if
she should ever be near the Emperor Andronicus; and if Areté had come
later to mean virtue, it had meant courage first, manly, unflinching
courage; and as Zoë was only a Greek girl and not a German professor,
she naturally supposed that Areté was the very word from which
Arethusa was derived.
'It is a fine name,' observed her gaoler obsequiously.
'And what shall I call you?' asked Zoë.
'I am Kyría Karaboghazji.' The negress tossed her flaming head and
smiled with satisfied vanity. 'My husband calls me Zoë,' she added,
with an amazing smirk, and some affectation of shyness.
'Zoë!' The high-born girl repeated her own name in genuine
astonishment.
[Illustration: 'Yes,' replied the negress. 'Rustan is very
affectionate. He says that I am his Zoë, his "life," because he
would surely die of starvation without me!']
'Yes,' replied the negress. 'Rustan is very affectionate. He says that
I am his Zoë, his "life," because he would surely die of starvation
without me!'
'I see,' said the Greek girl.
She would not have believed that before lying down in her prison that
night she would be forced to make an effort to suppress a laugh.
'And now it is growing late,' said the negress again, 'and Rustan is
wondering why I do not come to comb his beard and smooth his pillow,
and prepare his drink for the night. Good-night, Kokóna Arethusa! May
Holy Charalambos send you dreams of delight!'
'And to you also, Kyría Karaboghazji,' Zoë answered, though the form
of the woman's salutation was new to her.
The negress went out, still much pleased with herself, and swaying her
massive hips as she walked. She shut the door, and Zoë heard the big
key move in the lock.
The two slave-girls had stood at a respectful distance throughout the
conversation, their hands crossed submissively and their eyes bent on
the floor, for Rustan's wife had already taught them manners in order
to improve their price. But she was no sooner gone than they looked at
each other, and their lips began to twitch nervously; in another
moment they were both seized with a convulsion of silent laughter.
They shook from head to foot, they held their sides, they bent and
swayed, and twisted their hands together, but not a sound escaped
their lips. Beyond this, they could not control their mirth, and while
they laughed they looked anxiously at Zoë.
She herself could not help smiling when she thought of the negress's
enormous self-satisfaction, but presently she shook her head at the
girls and laid her finger on her lips. Their amusement subsided
quickly, for though she seemed kind, they knew what they had to expect
if one word from her should expose them to the negress's displeasure.
Zoë was very tired, now that the great sacrifice was made, and she let
the slave-girls help her as much as they would. They even made her eat
something and drink a little water. Now and then, when they looked up
at her, she patted them on the shoulder and smiled faintly, but her
thoughts were far away in the ruined house in the beggars' quarter.
When the girls had helped her in the bath and had dried her feet that
had been stained with mud and blue with the cold, they chafed them
with their hands and kissed them.
'They are like two little white mice!' said Yulia, laughing softly.
'No, they are like young doves!' said Lucilla.
And they each slipped one of her feet into a slipper of deerskin; and
then they clothed her for the night, in fine dry linen and a small
green silk jacket. They were skilful with their hands though they were
still so young, and she let them do what they thought she needed, and
lay down at last, to be covered and tucked in as warmly and
comfortably as when Kyría Agatha used to put her to bed, before the
boys had been born and had taken her place.
In a few minutes the little maids had put out the lamp, leaving only
the small light in the bath; then they noiselessly devoured all the
sweetmeats left on the table, after which they curled themselves upon
the carpet under their blankets and were asleep in a moment, like
young animals.
For a few moments Zoë still tried to think; tired though she was, she
hated herself for being able to rest in such comfort while Kyría
Agatha was perhaps awake under her pile of rags, and Nectaria was
hugging the straw to keep a little warmth in her old body. But then
she thought of the morrow, and of all that Nectaria would do with the
gold for the sick woman and the little boys, and in this soothing
reflexion she was borne softly away out of this world of slavery,
through the ivory gates to the infinite gardens of dreamland.
She was waked by the sunshine streaming into the room through the
window, and as she opened her eyes she saw the iron bars, and
remembered where she was. She sighed, for she had been happy in her
sleep. The girls were sitting cross-legged on the carpet, side by
side, at a little distance, silently awaiting her pleasure. She turned
her head on the pillow and lay on one side, looking at their small
dark faces; but she did not speak to them yet. They were very much
alike, she thought, commonplace girls, differing so little from
thousands of other young slaves in the great city, that it would be
hard for her to recognise them, if she should not see them for a few
days. They would be disposed of soon, of course, for there was always
a demand for healthy young house slaves who had been properly taught.
She envied them their homely features, their coarse black hair, their
angular figures, their sallow cheeks, and their cunning little black
eyes. They could only be sold as workers. All her life Zoë had heard
the price of house-slaves discussed, even more freely than the price
of clothes or jewels, and she knew that neither of the girls was worth
more than five-and-twenty ducats. She wondered what Rustan meant to
ask for herself; he would certainly not demand less than double the
sum he had paid.
While she was reflecting on these questions, and wishing all the time
that she might have news of Kyría Agatha during the day, the big key
moved in the Persian lock. The two girls sprang to their feet and
stood in a respectful attitude, Zoë turned her eyes as she heard the
sound, the door opened, and the negress's flaming head appeared in the
sunlight. She saw that Zoë was awake, and she entered the room,
shutting the door behind her. She greeted her valuable prisoner in the
half-familiar, half-obsequious tone she had adopted from the first,
asking her how she had slept, and whether the little maids had done
their duty. The latter question was accompanied by a fierce look at
the two girls. Zoë answered that they were most skilful and well
behaved. The negress looked at the remains of the supper on the table.
'So the Kokóna Arethusa is fond of sweetmeats,' she observed. 'She
eats only a mouthful from one bird and all the sugar-plums!'
Zoë was on the point of uttering an exclamation of surprised denial,
when she met the terrified eyes of the two slave-girls and checked
herself with a smile.
'I am very fond of sweets,' she answered carelessly.
The black woman seemed satisfied and turned from the table. She opened
the wardrobe next, and selected what she considered the handsomest of
the dresses that lay folded on the shelves within. Zoë watched her
curiously. She unfolded garments of apple-green silk, and one of
peach-coloured Persian velvet embroidered with silver, with a sash of
plaited green silk and gold threads. The two girls took the things
from her and laid them out.
'Surely,' Zoë said, 'you do not wish me to wear those clothes!'
'They are very good clothes,' observed the negress coaxingly. 'Look at
this velvet coat! There are even seed-pearls in the embroidery, and it
is quite new and fresh. My husband bought it from the Blachernæ
palace, when Handsome John was imprisoned. It belonged to one of the
favourite ladies. The slaves who ran away stole all the things and
sold them.'
'I would rather wear something plainer,' said Zoë; but at the mention
of the captive Emperor her brown eyes had grown very dark and hard,
and her voice almost trembled.
'Kokóna Arethusa must look her best this morning,' objected Rustan's
wife. 'She will receive a visit.'
Zoë started a little, and instinctively drew the bed-clothes up to her
chin.
'Already!' she exclaimed in a low tone.
The negress grinned from ear to ear.
'The Kokóna will perhaps not spend another night under our humble
roof,' she said. 'I do not know anything certainly as yet, because the
customer has not seen you,' she continued more familiarly, 'but Rustan
has consulted the astrologer, who says that these are fortunate days
for our buying and our selling. So I do not doubt but that the
customer will be pleased with your looks, Kokóna, for indeed, though I
do not wish to flatter you, we have not entertained such a beauty in
our modest home for a long time!'
All this was, of course, intended to put Zoë in a good humour, in
order that she might produce an agreeable impression on the expected
purchaser. Rustan had once missed a very good bargain because the
merchandise had burst into tears at the wrong moment.
'What sort of person is the customer?' asked the girl. 'Do you know
who he is?'
She asked the question quietly, but she held her breath as she waited
for the reply.
'I forget his name,' answered the negress after a moment's thought.
'He is a foreigner, a rich young merchant who lives in a fine house by
the Golden Horn.'
'A Christian, then?' Zoë asked, controlling her voice.
The other pretended to be shocked.
'Does the Kokóna Arethusa believe that Rustan would be so wicked as to
sell a Christian maid to the Turks? Rustan is a very devout man,
Kokóna! He would not do such an irreligious thing!'
Zoë remembered the allowance of three copper pennies daily, and how he
had driven her to sell herself for Kyría Agatha's sake; but she did
not care to impugn Rustan's piety.
'So the astrologer says that I shall be sold to-day,' she observed
with an affectation of carelessness, though her heart was sinking, and
she felt a little sick. 'Is he a great astrologer?'
'He is Rustan's friend, Gorlias Pietrogliant,' answered the negress,
who was now turning over certain fine linen in the wardrobe. 'Yes, he
is a good star-gazer, especially for merchants. He is very poor, but
many have grown rich through consulting him.'
She found what she wanted, and held up a beautifully embroidered
garment of linen as fine as a web.
'And if you are so fortunate as to go to the rich merchant's house,'
she added, 'you may win favour of him by telling him to consult
Gorlias about his affairs whenever he is in doubt.'
'Gorlias.' Zoë repeated the name, for she had never heard it.
'Gorlias Pietrogliant, who lives near the church of Saint Sergius and
Saint Bacchus. Every one in that quarter knows him.'
'I shall remember,' Zoë said.
She understood at last why Rustan had been in the habit of going often
to that church, where she had been kneeling in a dark corner when he
had first seen her. Thence he had followed her to the ruined house.
But she did not know that it was part of his regular business to
frequent the churches of the poorest quarters, because it was there
that starving girls were most often to be seen, praying to heaven for
the bread that so rarely came from that direction. Many a good bargain
had Rustan made by following a poor little ragged figure with a pretty
face to a den of misery, and he was a perfect expert in doling out
alms until his victim yielded or was forced to yield by her parents,
for a handful of gold; nor has his method of conducting the business
greatly changed, even in our own day, excepting that the slave-dealers
themselves are mostly women now.
Having selected all the garments necessary for Zoë's costume, the
negress bade one of the slave-girls take away the remains of the
supper and bring what was already prepared for the morning. The maid
obeyed, and was not gone two minutes. She brought in a bowl of
cherries, with white bread and butter and fresh water, all on a
polished tray of chiselled brass.
'Fruit is better for the health than sweetmeats at this time of day,'
observed the mistress of the house. 'By and by, at dinner, the Kokóna
shall have all she wishes.'
The little slaves looked at Zoë furtively and she smiled.
'Yes,' she said, 'fruit is much better in the morning.'
Rustan's wife came and stood beside the bed and scrutinised Zoë's
face.
'I think,' she said critically, 'that as the customer is a foreigner,
it will be better not to paint your eyes. The natural shadows under
them are not bad.'
'I never painted my face in my life!' cried the girl, rather
indignantly.
'And the Kokóna is quite right!' answered the negress, anxious to keep
her in a good humour. 'Besides,' she continued, fawning again, 'I am
here only to do your bidding and to wait on you to-day. Will it please
you to bathe now? I shall wait on you myself.'
'The little maids are very quick and clever,' objected Zoë, who
hardly looked upon the strapping African as a woman.
'No doubt, Kokóna, but this is a part of our business, and I do it
better than they.'
'I would rather let them help me, if I must be helped,' said Zoë.
'But, indeed, I am quite used to dressing myself.'
'And pray,' argued the negress, grinning and growing familiar again,
'how could Rustan give his customers a written guarantee, unless I
assured him, that there is no cause for complaint, no blemish, no
scar, no hidden deformity, no ugly birthmark?'
Zoë turned her face away on the pillow.
'I had not thought of that,' she answered.
'Heaven forbid that I should myself,' returned the woman, relapsing
into her obsequious manner again, 'if it were not to save the young
Kokóna from any trouble or annoyance with our customer! If it will but
please her to call herself my mistress and me her slave, she shall not
be disappointed. If I am rough or clumsy she shall box my ears
whenever she pleases, and I shall not complain!'
The little maids devoutly wished that Zoë would avail herself of their
tyrant's extraordinary offer, but they dared not smile. She still
turned her face away and was silent.
'See!' coaxed the African. 'I take off my coat!' She suited the action
to the word and divested herself of her outer garment, which was the
long coat and skirt in one, worn only by free women. 'I cover my head,
in the Kokóna's presence!' She quickly flattened her wild red hair
under a kerchief which she knotted at the back of her neck. 'I roll up
my sleeves! Am I anything but a slave, a bath-woman? Why will the
beautiful Kokóna not let me wait on her?'
Zoë turned her eyes and saw the change, and suddenly her objection
vanished; for Rustan's wife looked precisely like the black
slave-women who used to attend the ladies in the Roman bath in
Rhangabé's palace. The association of ideas was so strong that the
young girl could not help smiling faintly.
'As you please,' she said, raising herself upon one hand and preparing
to get up.