The Spice of Life

by Deena

My name is Deena bat Shifra bat Malka v' Yoseph ben Levi. I am the second wife of Ahmad Ibn Fadlan. I come from the land known as Palestine by many, but the land of Judea is the name by which my people call it. I set these words down on parchment at the bequest of my dear friend and the sister of my soul, Johanna. It is part of a birthday gift to our Lord and Master and Husband. Each of us came to him by such different trials and tribulations - each of us against our wills - each of us drawn together in the love we bear for Ahmad and for each other. And so, for our children and their children's children and for the pleasure of our Beloved Ahmad, we set down our stories.

Chapter One

Until the age of 14 I was the pampered daughter of Yoseph ben Levi, a wealthy spice merchant living in Be'er Sheva in the land of Judea. At that time it was determined that I wed the young man to whom I had been betrothed as a child. I was luckier than many a young girl - I had actually seen a portrait of my intended (painted by a Gentile and so allowed to be viewed by my eyes). I also had started a correspondence with him and so I had an inkling of his temperament and intelligence. He was the eldest son of a trader of soft goods in Safarad [Spain]. Our marriage would be of great benefit to both our houses - and I had developed a fondness for David bar Shimon. His letters filled me with excitement; he treated me as if I was a creature of some intelligence with worthwhile opinions. I begged for a year in which to learn several of the many languages that that are used by our trading houses and so felt that I would be of use to my future husband in his business dealings. This time was granted to me. Later, I would be grateful that I was able to communicate with my captors.

And so, at the age of 15, I set out in a caravan containing my dowry, heavily guarded by mercenaries hired by my esteemed father. My aged servant Miriam traveled with me, refusing to leave me to face my future alone. I carried along with the jewels, silks and gold coins, a wooden box containing some of the spices and herbs from my father's warehouse. These were of more value than the rest of my dower, but, thankfully, none knew of their true worth. Their use would be tested at a future time.

We traveled overland towards Safarad, our goal the grand city of Toledo. But I was destined never to see it or my betrothed. Late one night, while I lay asleep in my tent, our guards were overcome by the men of Renauld, the Needy One. I awoke to hear their cries of supplication swiftly cut off by the swords of Renauld's company. My servant, Miriam cowered in the corner, hiding behind the trunk that held my trousseau. I quickly lit the candle set on the table near my sleeping couch and drew on a robe. I was determined to show no fear...I firmly believed that I would be ransomed as was the custom in these situations. I knew that I must deport myself as a woman of wealth and esteem. Renauld strode into my tent, in his hand a lantern which cast dancing shadows of demons on the silken walls. Setting it on the table, he approached me with the light of desire and avarice in his evil eyes. "I am the luckiest of men! Not only will I bring the Man to Whom I Stand in Debt the richest of caravans, but I have for his wife two slaves!" He could barely conceal his glee. I was quick to correct my status. "I am no slave. I am the daughter of Yoseph ben Levi, spice merchant of Be'er Sheva. My father will give you ten times the wealth you find here if you but send.." "Silence, woman!" The sound of his voice was like the braying of a donkey. "It benefits me not if I ransom you. I would still be in debt to Ahmad Ibn Fadlan. If he chooses to ransom you, well, it is of no importance to me. I will have fulfilled another portion of my obligations to him. No, you will be treated carefully...I don't wish to deliver damaged goods."

And so, my status changed. Renauld did indeed take fairly good care of me, having me sleep in his tent to protect me from the desires of his men. When I told him I was still a virgin his glee knew no bounds. "Will my good fortune never end? If all goes well, I will also be able to offer a concubine to Ibn Fadlan. His wife no longer warms his bed while she grows ever rounder with his first born. I am sure he will welcome you to his couch." "I will never willingly go to him," I stated adamantly. My knowledge of French and Arabic helped me to understand his evil plans. "I would die before betraying my betrothed and my father." "You will have no choice, my little wasp."

Chapter 2

For a while I contemplated suicide, but Miriam convinced me that I could still regain my freedom if I spoke to this mysterious Ibn Fadlan of my father's wealth.

"Mistress, you must throw yourself on this man's desire - or appeal to his greed, whichever works," she told me. "Men think with their treasure chests or their manhood."

"Well, he shall never have me as a wife. I will wave my father's wealth under his nose. Greed is always stronger than love," I stated.

"Not with Ahmad Ibn Fadlan." Renauld had slipped silently into the tent and listened to us converse. "He has turned down coffers of jewels on a whim. If you take his fancy, he would turn down a king's ransom." He left us to dwell on his words. Miriam again urged me to wait.

"Perhaps this man will care for you, k'tanah, (little one). It may not be so bad...to be loved by a man of such power."

"I will never submit to him, but I will wait and see what happens. I promise not be rash."

I thank the G-d of Abraham that I listened to her final counsel. Alas, she was bitten by a scorpion, having thrown herself on it to protect me from its deadly sting - she died before we reached Ahmad's palace.

As it was with Johanna, sister of my heart, so it was with me. I was bathed, perfumed and painted. Ironically, they used some of the sheer silks I had brought with me to clothe my body. The turquoise colored silk was a vibrant contrast against my pale skin, chestnut curls and blue eyes, the color making them appear as blue green as the stone. My body could clearly be seen through the thin material - the lush curls between my thighs an open invitation for a man's mouth - the nipples of my breasts, carmined as is the practice of the Bedouin women. I felt like the houris of the Arabian paradise. Renauld was pleased. Suddenly he was struck by an idea. "Have you any musical skill, little wasp?" "I play the oud and sing," I offered. "Excellent! Tonight you will play for the evening meal's entertainment." And so it was that the first time I saw the man to whom I am enslaved by the bonds of love, was at the first anniversary of his marriage to Johanna.

The first course had been offered when I heard Renauld announce that he had one more gift for Ahmad and his beloved spouse. A gong was sounded and I was ushered into the ornate dining room. I sank upon the cushions and struck the opening chords of the song that I had decided to perform. It would be in the language of my homeland, in Aramaic. I thought no one would understand it and I could pour out my feelings without jeopardy. I had not realized that Ahmad had as great a command of languages as I had.

The Song of Deena of Judea

"Why do you weep, my heart, why do you weep? Torn from my father and lost to my love. Journeying far and to a strange land. Torn from my father and lost to my love. Set among strangers, enslaved and in chains. Why do you weep, my heart, why do you weep?

"Why do you sigh, my soul, why do you sigh? Torn from my mother and lost to my love. No longer to see the candles of rest. Torn from my mother and lost to my love. No longer to smell the spices of life. Why do you sigh, my soul, why do you sigh?"

As I sang the second verse, Ahmad suddenly arose and came to me. Kneeling down, he gently took the oud from my trembling hands. With a fresh clean piece of linen, he wiped my eyes that had filled with tears. Then he spoke, and it was then that I looked into his eyes of clearest honey and saw his face, like that of David ha Melech, and felt the first sharp pangs of love. "You are not among strangers here, little lark. You shall be ransomed, nay, I shall send you to your betrothed with your dower intact and your honor unblemished." Yet, when I first heard his voice it was if I heard the voice of my soul - my heart. I knew not what to say. It was too much for me - for the first and last time in my life, I swooned. When I awoke, I was in the harem quarters and Johanna was bending over me. "Ah, you are finally awake. Ahmad will be pleased. He was afraid that you might be ill, but I think it was just all too much for you, am I right?" She spoke in a lightly accented Arabic. I nodded my head and hoarsely begged for water. "Tell me your story, for we can never trust what Renauld tells us. My husband would like to know what you would wish him to do." And so I related my tale and when I was through, Johanna asked me the one question whose answer I did not want to contemplate. "Do you wish to journey on to your betrothed, Deena?" "I fear it is too late for that," I sighed. "Even if a hundred physicians were to attest that I was untouched, the rumors would abound. My father and my betrothed would both be dishonored. No, better to be thought that I was killed during the attack. My life must be here now as your slave." And it was then that I found my sister, for she gathered me in her arms and declared that I would not be a slave but, if I so chose, would be her friend and her companion. With tears of love in my eyes, I chose friendship and love.

Chapter 3

"Deena," Johanna said the next day as we sat and ate a meal of figs and yogurt. "I saw how you reacted to Ahmad." I blushed a rosy red and swiftly looked down at my hands. "Do not deny it for it is like that with all women who see him. But I also sensed that he returned this interest. Come, look at me. I am as round as a melon. I cannot please him in bed now and I fear he will stray. But if you would be willing to marry him, then.." "What?" I was aghast. "Do you offer him to me? How can you say you love him and do this?" "If you had spoken to me before I was captured, I too, would have been appalled. But here it is different. Ahmad is one who has the capacity to love many women - and love them each fully. Please, consider this."

She said no more, but her words played in my mind. I watched with envy as I saw their love for each other. I sang again for them at the evening meal, a happy song of an old maid who finds a young man among her rose bushes. Caught by the thorns, he cannot escape but pleads for his freedom. Yes, she says, if you will marry me. He has no choice and soon discovers that though the "cask may be old, the wine is well-aged". Ahmad and Johanna laughed with glee and my heart swelled that I was able to please him. Him - I longed to please him. Suddenly, the thought of sharing him with Johanna was not too difficult. Better to have some of him than none of him, I thought. Catching Johanna's gaze, I silently nodded my head. She knew I had agreed to share Ahmad's bed.

Interlude It was later that night. A frightened Hassan summoned me from my bedchamber. Throwing on a robe, I was about to follow him when he paused and begged, "Please bring your box of herbs and spices with you." I was startled by his request. Not many people knew the efficacy of herbs and spices in the sickroom.

We hurried down darkened corridors to Ahmad's chambers. He had insisted that Johanna be brought there, Hassan related to me as we flew down a myriad number of halls. He had lost his mother during childbirth. She had died when he was seven years old. He still remembered his father cursing Allah for the death of both his beloved wife and an innocent baby girl. The thought of anything happening to Johanna was driving him insane. He had to be with her during this time of travail.

"Here she is Lord Ahmad," Hassan announced as we entered the brightly lit room. "As you requested, she has brought her spice box with her." He ushered me into the room and withdrew. Ahmad was clad in a simple linen robe. Johanna lay on the immense mattress in her night shift which was already damp with sweat. There was no other soul present.

"My lord," I asked curiously. "Where is the midwife?"

"That filthy crone? I threw her out when she refused to wash her hands before touching my Rose." His wrath knew no bounds as he recalled the earlier scene.

I looked at Johanna helplessly. It would have to be up to her and me. I turned to Ahmad, a note of command in my voice. I felt in my soul that he needed to be here and in an active role.

"My Lord, please get some pots of boiled water and several cups. I am going to make a variety of herbal brews which I hope will ease the lady Johanna's travail." He nodded, relieved to be engaged in some positive action, and left the room.

While he was gone, I opened my spice casket and took out several packets. Never had I been more grateful for the training I had received from the books in my father's library and the wise women learned in the use of nature's bounty to heal the sick. Quickly, I found the various ingredients necessary. The draughts would increase her endurance, ease her labor pains, staunch an excess flow of blood following the birth. I also prepared a fragrant herbal tea for myself and Ahmad and liberally laced it with some anisette. It would serve to refresh us as we helped Johanna.

Ahmad returned with a copper pot filled with steaming water. Following my direction, he poured some of it into each of the clay pots I had filled with the dry ingredients. Soon the room was filled with a myriad of soothing and yet invigorating aromas. Johanna chose that moment to groan loudly. Ahmad turned wildly towards her bed, the hot water sloshing over the sides of the pot, almost drenching my robe.

"Ahmad! Take care! I almost was scalded by your water!"

Carefully, he now placed the pot on a cloth pad on the table and gathered me in his arms. I could feel his heart beating like a trembling bird - Ahmad, the great warrior.

"Forgive me, my lark. But Johanna...she is not?" He gestured towards the bed.

"No, no. Far from it. The birth proceeds normally, my lord. I would not wish you to fear for her as of now." I spoke soothingly to him, as a mother does to a child. Smoothing back a lock of his deep brown hair from his forehead, I continued. "She is young, strong and in good health."

"I swear, every groan she makes, every pain she feels, I feel like a stab in my heart!" His voice broke on that final word. I knew he must regain control of himself or he would be of no use to us. Pulling myself up to my full height of 5'4", I drew upon my most commanding air.

"My lord! You will either get a hold of yourself or you may leave the room! I do not have time to worry about your cringing each time my lady makes a whimper. It is natural for women to suffer during birth. My brews will ease her suffering, but I have nothing that will ease my annoyance with you if you continue in this vein! Her pelvis is wide and made for childbirth. Now, you may either be of help, or you may go!" I even stamped my foot.

Roaring with laughter, Ahmad grasped me in his arms and twirled like a madman with me. Setting me back on my feet, he drew me to him and noisily kissed me on my lips.

"Deena, Deena! You are a delight. I promise, little mother, I will be a good boy." He hurried to Johanna's side and knelt down on the floor beside her. Grabbing her right hand with his, he drew it to his lips and gently kissed her fingers. With his other hand. He brushed back her damp hair from her forehead. I could hear him whispering soothingly to her.

I stood by the table stunned. Ahmad had kissed me. True, it was merely a kiss of gratitude - at least for him. But for me - never had I felt anything like it. His lips were so warm and soft. My mouth still tingled from the contact. Suddenly, a loud moan broke through my bemusement. Taking the first of many cups, I sped to Johanna's side.

We labored together that night, Johanna, Ahmad and I. The end result towards dawn, was a beautiful baby boy, my lord's firstborn and heir. After cleaning up the afterbirth, I left the three of them together and returned to my own bedchamber. Exhausted, I sank into a deep sleep, not to be awakened until the afternoon, when Hassan summoned me once more to my lord's chambers.

Johanna and the child were ensconced in Ahmad's bed. The sunlight streamed through the windows casting them in a golden light. The light of day however, could not compare to the light of love that shone upon them from Ahmad's eyes. A sudden pang of jealousy cut though me. I longed now to feel some of that bounty. Upon hearing us come in, Ahmad sprang to his feet from the bed and came over to me. Tenderly, he kissed my lips with gratitude.

"Anything in my kingdom is yours, Deena. I cannot thank you enough for..."

I broke into his words.

"Nothing! I want nothing from you! The birth was an easy one, I will not mislead you." The one thing that I wanted I felt he could not give me.

"Are you sure that there is nothing I can offer you for giving me my son and keeping my wife from harm?" He looked searchingly in my face, trying to read my expression. Quickly, I bent my head, afraid he would see the love and baseless envy mingled there.

"No. No." I shook my head.

"I will not press you further for now. But the matter is not closed. You must be exhausted. I will order that the evening meal be served to you in your rooms. Tomorrow Johanna returns to her new rooms in the harem quarters. A nursery has been added and there is another spacious suite nearby. Would you care to have those as yours, Deena? I feel that you and Johanna have become friends, am I right?"

I nodded. This much I would grant him and it was true that I craved feminine companionship. "I would be most grateful to move into these rooms, my lord." "Excellent! I will arrange for the transfer of your possessions to them. Sleep well, my little lark. We will dine together tomorrow." Almost before he had finished the sentence, he was turning back to Johanna and the babe. With a sigh of resignation, I returned to my rooms to try and regain my natural sense of balance of the reality of my situation. The following day, I moved into the chambers next to Johanna.

Over the course of the next few weeks, we grew close Johanna and I. Who could help it? She was gracious and charming, generous to one and all, a loving mother. And a frustrated wife. During the weeks following childbirth it is recommended that a couple refrain from marital relations. Prior to this, Ahmad had not sought her bed for several months, taking caution to the extreme. Finally, one morning as we sat sipping one of my favorite jasmine tea blends, Johanna burst out, "I cannot bear it!" A cushion sailed across the room, knocking over a vase with a single deep red rose, a gift from Ahmad. Water seeped onto the floor and I hurried over to wipe up the mess.

"What, my sister?" I asked, as I sopped up the liquid.

"This...this celibacy! Ahmad is not a eunuch! How much longer can he refrain from seeking out some common slave girl and satisfying his craving in her unworthy body! No! I cannot bear it! If I am suffering, can you imagine how he must be? Deena, I know you desire him. I can see it in your eyes when he comes to visit us. It is time. You must go to him and relieve his thirst... and quench yours as well!" She had gotten up as she spoke and squatted on the floor with me now, grasping my hands almost painfully, the rag lying discarded among the water and crushed rose petals.

"I cannot deny it," I whispered. "I do love him, desire him. But he cares nothing for me! You are his all in all!" The tears I had not shed these many weeks sipped helplessly down my cheeks now.

"Ah, but you are wrong there, Deena. You do not see it when you turn to get up from the cushions how his eyes follow you. You have not heard him heap praises upon you for your knowledge and musical talents. He knows you take compliments poorly and he speaks of them to me. And he does love you. If you would but challenge this love, I know he would feel compelled to reveal it to you."

"What should I do?" I asked.

"Go to him. Tonight. I will help you prepare."

And so I came to his room that evening, dressed in the turquoise gown in which he had first seen me. The moon streamed through the latticed windows and cast shadows across his face. I had not stepped but a few feet into the room when he awoke, his warrior's instinct alerting him to my presence. "Deena, what is the matter? Are you all right? Are you ill?" His concern for me warmed my heart and gave me the courage to come closer to his bed. He was naked beneath the bed sheets - Johanna had told me he would be. "Yes, Ahmad, I am indeed ill." "I shall ring for the physician.." "No. 'Tis not an illness of the body with which I suffer, but that of the heart." I was now so close I could see the frown upon his beloved face. "Do you wish to change your mind and go to your betrothed? Are you not happy with us?" He frowned even more deeply and I rejoiced for I felt that he would not be too happy if I decided upon this. "Yes, I do wish to go to my betrothed." In his agitation he seemed to forget that he was unclothed. Throwing aside the sheets he strode to me and gripped my arms. "Look at me, Deena. Are you sure?" His eyes seared my soul. Silently I nodded. In a fury, he dropped my arms and stalked to the window. The silvery light limned his body like a pagan god. I could no longer leave him in such pain. I came to his side and draped my body against his, placing his arms around my waist. "You are my betrothed, and if you will take me to your couch and make me your wife, I will thank the G-d of my Fathers all the days of my life." The words acted as a trigger. He crushed me in his embrace, his fingers tangling in my hair. His mouth was like honey, feeding my soul. Carrying me to his bed, he gently lay me down upon the sheets and gazed at me ardently. "Does Johanna know of this?" He said suddenly. "Yes. She has given me leave to share my love and my body with you. Please, Ahmad, I long to have you love me." With a boldness I did not know I possessed, I slipped the gown from my shoulders and lay there for his inspection. He could not hide his reaction. His manhood jutted out and I trembled. I thanked heaven that I was no ignorant virgin - I had read all the books in my father's library, among them those known as pillow books. Now I was grateful for this knowledge. When he leaned upon the bed, I sat up and took his penis in my hand, caressing it. He was a bit taken aback. "Deena, where did you learn of this?" I laughed lightly. "It pays to be educated," I teased. "In my father's house there were many books, some of which told how men and women could pleasure each other to the fullest. I know my father would have forbidden me to read them if he had known.. but he never did find out that I had discovered the key to his locked shelves. It is most gratifying to be able to put this knowledge to work!" He laughed out loud and bent his forehead to touch mine. "Little lark, you are a veritable treasure!"

With a joyous heart, he covered me with his hard body. He was so tender with me. He knew that though I was knowledgeable, I was still a virgin. Slowly, he explored my body, turning me this way and that. He wrapped my long curls around his hands, smelling the spices with which I perfumed them. "I shall make you sing," he joked. "Without my oud?" I shot back. "My body will be your instrument." And so it was. I played his body like the finest musician. His rod I took into my mouth like a flute. His shoulders were like a drum, and I beat them as I came in my first orgasm. His flanks were the bellows of the bagpipes that played the war marches, I gripped them and kneaded a tune of love instead. And when I thought I could feel no greater ecstasy, he drove me to even greater heights and I sang out a peal of music that reached the skies. He turned me over and placed a pillow underneath me and urged me to grab the intricately carved headboard for support. Taking his fingers, he first thrust them between the curls between my legs, bathing them in the liquid that had gathered there. Moistening the entrance between my buttocks, he slowly, carefully drove his penis into me. Instinctively, I pushed back to gain even more of his manhood. And so we rocked together, faster and faster until our song of desire became a duet. My hands slipped from the ebony headboard and I lay face down among the cushions. Carefully, he rolled onto his side and drew me back into his arms. I could feel his warm breath against my ear. "And was it not as I said, Deena? Did I not make you sing, my little lark?" "Yes, my beloved, you did." "And you will sing only for me from now on, yes?" His arms tightened as if he feared my answer. Foolish man. "You will always be the only man for whom I will sing love songs, my heart."

And so it is. Though I sing songs of happiness and pain, I never sing songs of love. Though I now have twin sons born from my love for Ahmad and heirs after Johanna's eldest, they have never heard their mother sing songs from the heart. The lullabies are of a mother's love - but they will have to learn love songs from their own wives. I sing the prayers of my faith, for I too have that freedom, but I only sing love songs of man and G-d. No man will ever hear of the love between a man and a maid. None save Ahmad Ibn Fadlan.

The End of Book II, THE SPICE OF LIFE Written by Deena Glass, aka Jeanne Silver