NUUN
As I wrote on the last roll, Prince Malik with his retinue had gone to
Hajj to Mecca. The outward journey was carried out with no problems, in
full tranquillity. They remained at Mecca for one full week, then they
started the inward route.
When the caravan was near Rabigh, Prince Malik saw at a distance a
merchants' caravan trying desperately to resist an attack by a band of
predators. The merchants were getting the worst of it. So Malik, making
the men without weapons remain in place, at the head of his guards
rushed to rescue the unlucky merchants. Malik's charge was like the
flood wave of a waadi in the rainy season: his passage swept away
everything so that in a short while there was not a single survivor from
the predators, apart from the few that had managed to hastily flee.
When Malik with his men went back to the caravan's survivors, the
caravan chief prostrated on the ground in front of Mailik's horse
chanting aloud the praises of Allah and their unknown rescuer. Then,
without standing up, the chief said:
"Most noble Lord, almighty bulwark of Islam, most excellent Prophet's
favourite, we owe you our lives. How can we ever extinguish our debt to
you, how can we repay you for your noble and generous intervention to
defend us poor merchants at the mercy of the predators? Order and we
will do every thing to repay you for your most noble action!"
"Stand up. Do you have many dead?"
"More than half of the caravan, most noble Lord."
"And your merchandise?"
"Also, my lord."
"What do you mean, 'also'? They robbed you of half your belongings, you
mean?"
"Yes, my Lord most excellent. We were transporting a load of slaves and
now less than half remains to us."
"Did they flee or were they killed?"
"No, my Lord, they were not killed and they did not flee, they were well
chained. All would have been taken if it was not for your intervention,
oh envoy of Allah! But more than half they had already captured and
stolen away before your glorious intervention."
"Were they yet sold as slaves?"
"No, splendor of the Orient. We had just bought them from a ship. They
were all young infidel sailors captured at sea, we had bought to bring
them to the Amir Hakim, for his harem. We would have got a good price
for them there, the Amir appreciates very much foreign boys, especially
if of an handsome aspect."
"He wants to geld them for his harem?"
"No, my Lord, he wants to make them objects for his pleasure. The most
excellent Hakim likes fresh boys and pays well for a good little morsel
of Christian origin, European. He wants them all between fifteen and
eighteen years, he keeps them in his harem for two or three years, then
he sells them. That's why he is always in search of fresh flesh..."
While the two were speaking, the other merchants were gathering the
remaining slaves and recomposing the remnants of the caravan.
The chief of the caravan said: "Lord, how can we pay our debt of
gratitude to you? Just express a desire so that we can repay at least in
part for your help so kindly bestowed upon us."
Malik was looking at the slaves. It was the first time he had looked at
infidels and he was curious. Suddenly his eyes were held by a slave: he
had straight hair the colour of clear amber with golden highlights. Hie
eyes were of a very light grey-blue similar to that of a sky at dawn,
slightly misted over by ethereal clouds. His skin was of a delicate and
uniform pink, similar to that of a small child and a more bright pink
stood out on his soft and sinuous lips and on the areolae of his small
but perfectly round nipples. But his attitude was unbelievable: it was
proud, straight, hard, almost challenging. It seemed more the look of an
angry sovereign than of a subdued slave. Malik felt immediately
attracted, excited. He decided he must have him, he wanted him in his
bed. Pointing at him with the hilt of his scimitar, he asked:
"Who is that slave?"
"That one, my lord? He is a Dane. He is the plague in person, a devil!
Had the predators taken him, they would have freed me from a heavy
problem, a veritable thorn in my side!"
"Why so? He is a boy of remarkable beauty, I think."
"Yes, very beautiful. And that is the curse of fate! Probably the most
beautiful of all these slaves. A good purchase, I said to myself. But
when we started to train them to gladden their possible future master,
this one, just him, rebelled with his nails and teeth, like a ferocious
wild animal. To allow our expert to prepare his way between his thighs,
so that he could penetrate him from the back, we had to have four men
hold him still, my noble Lord. And it still was not easy to mount him! I
really believe we will have to geld him as soon as we arrive in town. It
is a pity, because a gelded slave yields less money, while a boy of his
provocative beauty, healthy, we could have sold him well, very very
well. But when all the others have learned in only a few days to use
every part of their bodies to give pleasure to a man, including the
mouth, with this one I would not put in his mouth even the tip of my
little finger, because he is certain to cut it with his perfect but
murderous teeth."
"What is his name?"
"Iskandar, if I am right, my Lord."
"Well, give me the slave Iskandar and I will consider myself paid for
the help I gave you."
"My Lord, I would willingly make him over to you, but I sincerely do not
think you have made a good choice. If you like the infidel boy, why not
take Yussuf instead, that boy over there. He is a Sicilian, all fire,
and in bed he is docile but ready to satisfy a male in the best of ways.
He is also very beautiful, as you can see. If you want I can show him
naked so you can check he is also sound and strong..."
"No, I want Iskandar. I am not interested in his docility in bed, I do
not have those needs. But his look fascinates me: he is the only man
among all those slaves."
"But he is a savage colt, he will not be easy to tame. If really you
want him, he is yours, my Lord. But it seems to me as if I am repaying
you with a forged coin. Accept also Yussuf, I willingly give you him as
well. At least then, if you are unhappy with Iskandar, you cannot say I
have tricked you."
"No, Iskandar is enough. Does he understand our language?"
"Very little, my Lord. He has only been a slave for three months..."
"Well, he will learn. Aziz, take that boy on your saddle with you and be
careful he does not escape."
The strong Aziz approached the boy and, with only one hand, grasping him
by the belt of his filthy trousers lifted him from the ground. The boy
immediately started to kick and to shout. Aziz's horse pranced about,
irritated and nervous, but was immediately controlled by his driver.
Then Malik drew near on his horse and, looking straight into the eyes of
the young slave, in a calm but firm voice said:
"Calm down, boy. You scare the horse."
The boy looked at Malik with furious eyes, and their gaze remained
locked together for some moments, but in the end the slave lowered his
eyes and went still, remaining inert. Then Malik continued:
"Iskandar, do not be afraid. Do you understand what I say? Do not be
scared."
The boy raised again his glance toward Malik, his eyes flashed, then in
a subdued manner, answered:
"Yes, understand."
Aziz put the young slave on his saddle in front of him and the boy
remained still. Malik made the signal to leave, and they rejoined the
rest of their caravan and continued the journey home. At the first stop
Malik ordered the chains be removed from the boy, and made him come into
his tent. Malik offered him some of the food he was eating. The boy
initially refused, silent, his eyes fixed and empty. But the prince
remained with his hand held out in front of the boy, offering the food,
for a long while, until the slave accepted it and began to eat.
Malik had been at once conquered by that semi-naked body and felt a very
strong desire to touch it, to enjoy it. Desire burned in his veins. But
having heard how the boy had been raped by the merchants, he held
himself back and did not even brush against him. While the boy ate,
Malik, slowly and clearly articulating his words, said:
"Iskandar, I am now your master. I do not want to hurt you. You need not
be scared of me. You cannot rebel or flee: you will immediately be
captured and perhaps not by me but by another master less benevolent. Do
you understand what I am saying to you?"
"No, little."
"Iskandar is your real name?"
"Name? Alexander... Alexander Niels."
"My name is Malik ibn Amin el Salih. Did you understand?"
"You Malik..."
"Yes. Now I will entrust you to my slave Monge, until you have learned
our language. Nobody will ever hurt you, do you understand that?"
"Yes, little. You not hurt to I. You good."
"Yes, I good." Malik concluded with a smile and for the first time the
boy had a ghost of a smile even if he was still timorous.
All through the long journey the boy remained near the black slave who,
with endless patience, taught him to speak Arabic. His method was simple
and effective: all day long the young black man said Arabic words to the
boy and made him repeat them. For example, pointing to the horse he said
"horse" and made the boy repeat it. Or he sat, saying "I sit down" then
stood up saying "I stand up", then made the boy sit saying "you sit
down" and so on, infinite times, making him repeat and repeat with a
patience that amazed Malik, who watched from afar. The prince had also
given to the boy decent clothes and made him wash in the sea several
times, so that now he looked even better. While the boy was taking his
bath in the sea, naked, Malik had looked at him: if by the face and the
chest he had judged him just a young boy barely beyond adolescence, by
his big and well developed member and by the thick tuft of hairs between
the well formed thighs, he understood that he could be almost of his
age: he probably was seventeen. The contrast between the adolescent face
and the uncircumcised member of a mature man had the effect of
increasing Malik's desire. He now felt his blood flow faster in his
veins each time he looked upon the boy. He desperately desired him. He
also wanted to know him, to talk with him, to know his story and
therefore he was impatient for the boy to learn the language. But he had
committed himself not to touch the boy, even if with the passing of time
he felt more and more attracted to him. He also noticed that more than
one of his men had started to look at the boy with eyes filled with
greed, so he explicitly ordered that noone was to make him any sexual
proposition of any kind.
Aziz especially seemed particularly attracted
by the beautiful slave. But he had given his word of honour to his
prince and, even if with difficulty, he abided by it. Little by little
the boy lost his challenging look and, as he learned to express himself,
started to exchange a few words with the others. Malik continued to
watch him, to study his behaviour, every expression and was even more
attracted and fond of him. The boy had a natural pride, even if at times
he showed a sweet and defenseless expression. When the boy met the
covetous eyes of one of the escort, there sometimes returned briefly the
expression of a hunted, scared animal. Soon after he hardened his glance
to one more terrible than a steel blade. This scared expression he
discovered in the eyes of the boy gave to Malik a great sensation of
tenderness, and in his heart he asked himself how much the boy had
suffered in the early days of his captivity. And then the prince said to
himself that the boy would never more have to suffer. Iskandar, now,
when he met Malik's look, more and more often gave a shy smile full of
trust. He felt, even if still confusedly, he had found in the young
prince more a protector than a master.
The journey came to an end and the caravan reached the capital, passing
between two wings of festive crowds. Arriving at the Palace, Malik left
Iskandar with Monge, and came to give his respects to the Prince Selim,
accompanied by his father and I, and lingered in conversation for a long
time with us, relating to us the details of his journey. We all become
curious about Iskandar's story. Selim, knowing some of the dialects of
the infidels, asked to try to talk to him, so Malik sent for him. The
boy, when in our presence, seemed frightened but as soon as he saw
Malik, he regained his serene look. Selim tried to talk with the boy
using two or three different languages, until they could understand each
other in that kind of free language the peoples of the Mediterranean Sea
spoke between themselves, a mix of Arabic, Italian, French, Spanish and
some English. After a long dialog, Selim translated to us:
"The boy is the son of a prince of Denmark. He was on board a ship that
was attacked by Libyan corsairs. He was kept prisoner and on the ship
was raped by the Lybian pirates. Then he was sold to an Egyptian
merchant that in turn sold him to a lord of the Red Sea coast that
wanted to make him his pleasure object. So the boy attempted the flee,
but soon was caught by some Yemeni merchants who brought him on their
ship and then sold him to to the merchants from whom Malik got him. They
also raped him, because they wanted to prepare him to be sold to a boys'
harem."
Malik had listened at the story with evident interest.
At the end he asked Selim: "Can you tell him that here nobody will do
ill to him and that no one will ever sexually abuse him?"
Selim translated. At that point the boy raised his eyes towards Malik
and with a sweet smile said something that Selim translated:
"He says that he never doubted you are a good prince."
Turning from the boy, I asked Malik: "Am I wrong, or has your heart been
captured by this slave?"
"No, you are not wrong, Nadim. But, how ever much I desire him, I would
never have the courage to force him into my bed, after all the violence
he has endured. Even if he is a slave, it does not seem right to me..."
"Is he therefore so precious in your eyes?"
"Yes, he is. As soon as I saw him I was completely conquered. It is
evident he is a prince, and I want him treated as such. Of course, I
would like it very much if he could become my lover, but this will only
happen if and when he desires it. In fact it is not so much his body I
covet, even if it is most beautiful and sets me ablaze with desire, but
it is all of him, body and soul. And this cannot be bought, it can only
be received as a gift."
"It is true, but a soul can be conquered," Amin said with a smile.
"And how is that done, father? Teach me and I will be grateful to you
all my life long."
"To conquer a soul there is but one method, a difficult one, and it is
never sure to give you the hoped- for results."
"Tell me, what is it?"
"To give him your soul as a gift. To give it without reserve. Knowing
that an answer to your gift may never happen."
"Yes, I understand... I will try."
"But in so doing, you will make your slave your master..." Selim warned
him.
Malik, smiling nodded: "Is he perhaps not yet so?"
"Then you have really fallen in love, it is not just desire."
"Yes, prince Selim. I really think so. Along the days of our journey I
watched him closely and little by little Iskandar has completely won my
heart and my soul. Possibly the boy does not even realize it, but it
really is true. I never felt for anyone what I now feel for him."
"Real love can also give great suffering, especially when it is not
returned, my friend," Selim said.
Then I said: "But if it is returned, it can open wide the doors of
Paradise."
Malik reflected at these words, then firmly said: "I am ready to take
the risk."
First of all, Malik had beautiful clothes prepared for Iskandar, worthy
of a prince. Then he had a room in his quarters prepared for him and
gave orders to everyone to treat the boy as a prince, not as a slave.
The boy, who meanwhile continued to study Arabic, was astounded by all
these changes, so he asked Malik:
"Lord, do always you do such things for your slaves?"
"I would like you to be my friend, not my slave."
"But friends, my lord, can be bought or sold not. They are merchandise
not."
"I had you as a gift..."
"From someone that bought me. Why then are you showering with favours
me? What do require you in exchange?"
"Nothing. I ask nothing of you."
"Nevertheless, as you look to me, I would say that is something you want
from me. You want my body, is that so not?"
"Yes, it is true, I love your body very much. Just being near you
arouses me, but I do not just want to have sex with you."
"And why you do wait to take me? In any case, even if I did want not,
you could constrain me as others has done before. You have strong
slaves, how can oppose I to you? Your desires here are not the law?"
"Nobody will again force you to do what you do not want. You have my
word of honour. Nobody, not even I."
The boy did not answer.
For some days they did not speak of this again. Malik continued to cover
him with attention, the boy accepting them without profiting, without
asking, but also without refusing them. When Malik asked him something,
the boy promptly complied, but diffidently he remained closeted away in
his room, alone. I saw Malik consumed by the beautiful Iskandar but the
boy, even if he had assumed a respectful attitude, did not seem to react
in any way to Malik's attention.
So, after Iskandar had lived at court for about four months, one day
when Malik had gone to hunt with his father, I decided to go to speak
with the boy.
"Iskandar, do you realize how much prince Malik is deeply in love with
you?"
"Yes, I know he desires me."
"I spoke about love, not desire."
"I am his slave: if he wishes he can take me. I will not oppose him."
"But you know he will never do anything if it is not your desire. He
will never take you against your will."
"But a slave can not have a will of his own. I belong to him. He treats
me very well and therefore I try to obey him promptly. I carry out the
duty imposed on me when I became a slave, an object that can be sold and
bought."
"Malik offered you his friendship."
"How can it be friendship between master and slave? Only between peers
can there be friendship."
"He is treating you as a peer."
"But I am still his slave."
"Iskandar, perhaps you do not like sexual intercourse between males?"
"When I was on the ship I had sexual meetings with some of the sailors
and I enjoyed that very much. But it was my choice, I was a free being.
The prince is really very handsome and if I had met him on my ship, I
really do not think I would have refused him... probably I would have
tried to have sex with him. But now I do not refuse myself: if he wants
to take me, I will promptly obey. I will not rebel this time, because I
know it is useless. I have become just an object, a slave. And after all
Malik is a good master... and very beautiful. Even if it was you, now,
who wished to take me, Visir, I would not oppose you. But I will oppose
Aziz if he tried to take me: I read in his eyes the lust each time he
passes me, the desire to take me, but he is not my master..."
"You know that Malik has forbidden everyone even to touch you?"
"Of course, because I belong to him."
"No, my boy, because he loves you. And he does not love just your
beautiful body. He has at his service splendid bodies to lay with and
ready to please him, you know that very well. But love is something that
only those who feel it can understand. Evidently you are not able to
love. Probably is not even your fault, after all you have had to endure.
But did you ever love someone? Man or woman?"
"No. Possibly I am too young to love, Visir, do you not think so?"
"No, I do not. Malik is your age, nevertheless he loves. If he just
coveted your body, he would have taken it without a second thought,
exactly because you are just a slave, his slave. But on the contrary he
does not touch you and neither does he even brush against you. Because
he loves you, truly and sincerely. Try to understand that, at least,
even if you are unable to love."
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