The Strand Magazine/Volume 5/Issue 26/A Slave
By Leïla-Hanoum.
Translated from a Turkish Story.
I.
was sold in Circassia when I was only six years old. My uncle, Hamdi-bey, who had inherited nothing from his dying brother but two children, soon got rid of us both. My brother Ali was handed over to some dervishes at the Mosque of Yéni-Chéïr, and I was sent to Constantinople.
The slave-dealer to whom I was taken was a woman who knew nothing of our language, so that I was obliged to learn Turkish in order to understand my new mistress. Numbers of customers came to her, and every day one or other of my companion slaves went away with their new owners.
Alas! my lot seemed terrible to me. I was nothing but a slave, and as such I had to humble myself to the dust in the presence of my mistress, who brought us up to be able to listen with the most immovable expression on our faces, and with smiles on our lips, to all the good qualities or faults that her customers found in us.
The first time that I was taken to the sélamlik (reception-room) I was ten years old. I was considered very pretty, and my mistress had bought me a costume of pink cotton, covered with a floral design; she had had my nails tinted and my hair plaited, and expected to get a very good price for me. I had been taught to dance, to curtesy humbly to the men and to kiss the ladies feradje (cloaks), to hand the coffee (whilst kneeling) to the visitors, or stand by the door with my arms folded ready to to answer the first summons. These were certainly not very great accomplishments, but for a child of my age they were considered enough, especially as, added to all that, I had a very white skin, a slender, graceful figure, black eyes and beautiful teeth.
I felt very much agitated on finding myself amongst all the other slaves who were waiting for purchasers. Most of them were poor girls who had been brought there to be exchanged. They had been sent away from one harem, and would probably have to go to some other. My heart was filled with a vague kind of dread of I knew not what, when suddenly my eyes rested on three hideous negroes, who had come there to buy some slaves for the harem of their Pasha. They were all three leaning back on the sofa discussing the merits and defects of the various girls standing around them.
"Her eyes are too near together," said one of them.
"That one looks ill."
"This tall one is so round-backed."
I shivered on hearing these remarks, whilst the poor girls themselves blushed with shame or turned livid with anger.
"Come here, Féliknaz," called out my mistress, for I was hiding behind my companions. I went forward with lowered eyes, but my heart was beating wildly with indignation and fear. As soon as the negroes caught sight of me they said something in Arabic and laughed, and this was not lost on my mistress.
"Three hideous negroes."
"Where does this one come from?" asked one of them, after examining me attentively.
"She is a Circassian. She has cost me a lot of money, for I bought her four years ago and have been bringing her up carefully. She is very intelligent and will be very pretty. Bir elmay (quite a diamond)," she added, in a whisper. "Féliknaz, dance for us, and show us how graceful you can be."
I drew back, blushing, and murmured, "There is no music for me to dance to."
"That doesn't matter at all. I'll sing something for you. Come, commence at once!"
I bowed silently and went back to the end of the room, and then came forward again dancing, bowing to the right and left on my way, whilst my mistress beat time on an old drum and sang the air of the yassédi dance in a hoarse voice. In spite of my pride and my terror, my dancing appeared to please these men.
"We will certainly buy Féliknaz," said said one of them; "how much will you take for her?"
"Twelve Késatchiés[1]! not a fraction less."
The negro drew a large purse out of his pocket and counted the money over to my mistress. As soon as she had received it she turned to me and said:—
"You ought to be thankful, Féliknaz, for you are a lucky girl. Here you are, the first time you have been shown, bought for the wealthy Saïd Pasha, and you are to wait upon a charming Hanoum of your own age. Mind and be obedient, Féliknaz; it is the only thing for a slave."
I bent to kiss my mistress's hand, but she raised my face and kissed my forehead. This caress was too much for me at such a moment, and my eyes filled with tears. An intense craving for affection is always felt by all who are desolate. Orphans and slaves especially know this to their cost.
The negroes laughed at my sensitiveness, and pushed me towards the door, one of them saying, "You've got a soft heart and a face of marble, but you will change as you get older."
I did not attempt to reply, but just walked along in silence. It would be impossible to give an idea of the anguish I felt when walking through the Stamboul streets, my hand held by one of these men. I wondered what kind of a harem I was going to be put into. "Oh, Allah!" I cried, and I lifted my eyes towards Him, and He surely heard my unuttered prayer, for is not Allah the protector of all who are wretched and forlorn?
II.
The old slave-woman had told me the truth. My new mistress, Adilé-Hanoum, was good and kind, and to this day my heart is filled with gratitude when I think of her.
Allah had certainly cared for me. So many of my companion-slaves had, at ten years old, been obliged to go and live in some poor Mussulman's house to do the rough work and look after the children. They had to live in unhealthy parts of the town, and for them the hardships of poverty were added to the miseries of slavery, whilst I had a most luxurious life, and was petted and cared for by Adilé-Hanoum.
"My mistress beat time."
I had only one trouble in my new home, and that was the cruelty and the fear I felt of my little mistress's brother, Mourad-bey. It seemed as though, for some inexplicable reason, he hated me; and he took every opportunity of teasing me, and was only satisfied when I took refuge at his sister's feet and burst into tears. In spite of all this I liked Mourad-bey. He was six years older than I, and was so strong and handsome that I could not help forgiving him; and, indeed, I just worshipped him.
When Adilé-Hanoum was fourteen her parents engaged her to young Bey who lived at Salonica, and whom she would not see until the eve of her marriage. This Turkish custom of marrying a perfect stranger seemed to me terrible, and I spoke of it to my young mistress.
She replied in a resigned tone: "Why should we trouble ourselves about a future which Allah has arranged? Each star is safe in the firmament, no matter in what place it is."
One evening I was walking up and down on the closed balcony outside the haremlik. I was feeling very sad and lonely, when suddenly I heard steps behind me, and by the beating of my heart I knew that it was Mourad-bey.
"Féliknaz," he said, seizing me by the arm, "what are you doing here, all alone?"
"I was thinking of my country, Bey-Effendi. In our Circassia all men are equal, just like the ears of corn in a field."
"Look up at me again like that, Féliknaz; your eyes are gloomy and troubled, like the Bosphorus on on a stormy day."
"It is because my heart is like that," I said, sadly.
"Do you know that I am going to be married?" he asked, after a moment's silence. I did not reply, but kept my eyes fixed on the ground.
"You are thinking how unhappy I shall make my wife," he continued; "how she will suffer from my bad treatment."
"Oh no," I exclaimed. "I do not think she will be unhappy. You will, of course, love her, and that is different. You are unkind to me, but then that is not the same."
"You think I do not love you," said the Bey, taking my hands and pressing them so that it seemed as though he would crush them in his grasp. "You are mistaken, Féliknaz. I love you madly, passionately; I love you so much that I would rather see you dead here at my feet than that you should ever belong to any other than to me!"
"Why have you been so unkind to me always, then?" I murmured, half-closing my eyes, for he was gazing at me with such an intense expression on his dark, handsome face that I felt I dare not look up at him again.
"Because when I have seen you suffering through me it has hurt me too; and yet it has been a joy to me to know you were thinking of me and to suffer with you, for whenever I have made you unhappy, little one, I have been still more so myself. Your smiles and your gentleness have tamed me though, at last; and now you shall be mine, not as Féliknaz the slave, but as Féliknaz-Hanoum, for I respect you, my darling, as much as I love you!"
Mourad-bey then took me in his arms and kissed my face and neck, and then he went back to his rooms, leaving me there leaning on the balcony and trembling all over. Allah had surely cared for me, for I had never even dared to dream of such happiness as this.
III.
And so I became a Hanoum. My dear Adilé was my sister, and though after years of habit I was always throwing myself down at her feet, she would make me get up and sit at her side, either on the divan or in the carriage. Mourad's love for me had put aside the barrier which had separated us. There was, however, now a terrible one between my slaves and myself. Most of them were poor girls from my own country and of my own rank. Until now we had been companions and friends, but I felt that they detested me at present as much as they used to love me, and I was afraid of their hatred. They had all of them undoubtedly hoped to find favour in the eyes of their young master, and now that I was raised to so high a position their hatred was terrible. I did my utmost: I obtained all kinds of favours for them; but all to no purpose, for they were unjust and unreasonable.
"Slaves."
My great refuge and consolation was Mourad's love for me—he was now just as gentle and considerate as he had been tyrannical and overbearing. My sister-in-law was married on the same day that I was, and went away to Salonica, and so I lost my dearest friend.
IV.
Mourad loved me, I think, more and more, and when a little son was born to us it seemed as though my cup of happiness was full. I had only one trouble: the knowledge of the hatred of my slaves; and after the birth of my little boy, that increased, for in the East, the only bond which makes a marriage indissoluble is the birth of a child.
When our little son was a few months old Mourad went to spend a week with his father, who was then living at Béïcos. I did not mind staying alone for a few days, as all my time was taken up with my baby-boy. I took entire charge of him, and would not trust anyone else to watch over him at all.
One night, when eleven o'clock struck, everything was silent in the harem; evidently everyone was asleep.
Suddenly the door of my room was pushed open, and I saw the face of one of my slaves. She was very pale, and said in a defiant tone, "Fire, fire! The conak (house) is on fire!" Then she laughed, a terrible, wild laugh it was too, and she locked my door and rushed away. Fire! Why, that meant ruin and death!
I had jumped up immediately, and now rushed to the window. There was a red glow in the sky over our house and I heard the crackling of wood and saw terrible smoke. Nearly wild with fright I took my child in my arms, snatched up my case of jewels, and wrapping myself up in a long white simare, I hurried to the door. Alas! it was too true; the girl had indeed locked it! The window, with lattice-work outside, looked on to a paved courtyard, and my room was on the second floor of the house. I heard the cry of "Yanghen var!" (fire, fire) being repeated like an echo to my misery.
"Oh, Allah!" I cried, "my child, my child!" A shiver ran through me at the horrible idea of being burned alive and not being able to save him.
I called out from the window, but all in vain. The noisy crowd on the other side of the house, and the crackling of the wood, drowned the sound of my voice.
I did my utmost to keep calm, and I walked again to the door and shook it with all my strength; then I went and looked out of the window, but that only offered us a speedy and certain death. I could now hear the sound of the beams giving way overhead. Had I been alone I should undoubtedly have fainted, but I had my child, and so I was obliged to be brave.
"I got out of the window."
Suddenly an idea came to me. There was a little closet leading out of my room, in which we kept extra covers and mattresses for the beds. There was a small window in this closet looking on to the roof of the stables. This was my only hope or chance. I fastened my child firmly to me with a wide silk scarf, and then I got out of the window and dropped on to the roof of the stable, which was about two yards below. Everything around me was covered with smoke, but fortunately there were gusts of wind, which drove it away, enabling me to see what I was doing. From the roof to the ground I had to let myself down, and then jump. I sprained my wrist and hurt my head terribly in falling, but my child was safe. I rushed across the courtyard and out to the opposite side of the road, and had only just time to sit down behind a low wall away from the crowd, when I fainted away.
V.
When I came to myself again, nothing remained of our home but a smoking ruin, upon which the touloumbad jis were still throwing water. The neighbours and a crowd of other people were watching the fire finish its work. Not very far away from me, among the spectators, I recognised Mouradbey, standing in the midst of a little group of friends.
His face was perfectly livid, and his eyes were wild with grief. I saw him pick up a burning splinter from the wreck of his home, where he believed all that he loved had perished. He offered it to his friend, who was lighting his cigarette, and said, bitterly, "This is the only hospitality I have now to offer!"
The tone of his voice startled me—it was full of utter despair, and I saw that his lips quivered as he spoke.
I could not bear to see him suffer like that another second.
"Bey Effendi!" I cried, "your son is saved!"
He turned round, but I was covered with my torn simare, which was all stained with mud; the light did not fall on me, and he did not recognise me at all. My voice, too, must have sounded strange, for after all the emotion and torture I had gone through, and then my long fainting-fit, I could scarcely articulate a sound. He saw the baby which I was holding up, and stepped forward.
"He saw the baby."
"What is he to me," he said, "without my Féliknaz?"
"Mourad!" I exclaimed, "I am here, too! He darted to me, and took me in his arms; then, with his eyes full of tears, he looked at tenderly and, kissed me over and over again.
"Effendis," he cried, turning at last to his friends, and with a joyous ring in his voice, "I thought I was ruined, but Allah has given me back my dearest treasure. Do not pity me any more, I am perfectly happy!"
We lost a great deal of our wealth by that fire. Our slaves had escaped, taking with them all our most valuable things.
Mourad is quite certain that the women had set fire to the house from jealousy, but instead of regretting our former wealth, he does all in his power to make up for it by increased attention and care for me, and his only trouble is to see me waiting upon him.
But whenever he says anything about that I throw my arms around his neck and whisper, "Have you forgotten, Mourad, my husband, that your Féliknaz is your slave?"
- ↑ One Késatchié is about £4 10s.