Angeline Read Online Free PDF Page A

priest muttered. “No better than heretics.”
    She had no idea what he meant.
    They reached a street that seemed a bit more quiet than the others. There were no shops here; the street was lined with high, mud brick walls. By now Angeline’s head was aching intolerably and her feet and ankles were covered in filth. Limp with the heat, she rubbed at her forehead. Stinging sweat ran down into her eyes. Flies were everywhere—a constant torment. Zeid led them to a doorway in one of the walls and rang a bell that hung outside. The door was opened by an elderly man—another slave, Angeline supposed—and they entered.
    Inside all was in shadow. It was much cooler than the street outside. Angeline could hear the sound of falling water and as soon as the heavy door closed behind them all street noises disappeared. The street smells disappeared, too, to be replaced by a strange, pungent odour. She saw a stick burning in a dish and realized that must be where the scent was coming from. Angeline drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and wiped her sweaty hands on her shift. She braced herself for whatever was to happen next, but still she was unprepared when a veiled woman appeared and grasped her by the arm.
    “Let me go!” she protested, and tried to pull away. To no avail. The woman’s grip was too strong—her fingers dug into Angeline’s flesh.
    At that Stephen seemed to come to his senses.
    “Angeline!” he cried.
    Father Martin reached out for her, but Zeid barred his way.
    “It is all right,” Angeline heard him say. “She must go. She will come to no harm.”
    The words did not reassure Angeline. She struck out with her free hand, but the woman deflected her blow as easily as if she were naught but a small child, then dragged her to a curtained doorway set deep into the wall. Angeline made yet another attempt to get free, but there was no breaking the hold she was in. She cast one last despairing glance back at Stephen and Father Martin before she was hauled, stumbling, along a corridor and up a stone staircase. The floors upon which they walked were covered with deep carpets of intricate design. More such carpets hung on the walls around her. Never had Angeline seen such luxury, but it only filled her with more fear. What kind of people lived like this? They passed through a wooden screen and Angeline stared around her, speechless.
    They were in a large room. Flowers were everywhere; the scent of fine perfumes mingled with their fragrance. A fountain sat in the middle of the tiled floor. Water cascaded down from it in a ceaseless flow. There were several women in the room and children played amongst them. Some of the women were lounging on cushions, two were playing what looked to be some sort of game with ivory pieces on a board. One woman plucked a kind of lute and music flowed out over all the chatter and laughter. The women were not veiled in here and the one who had accompanied Angeline unfastened her own veil as soon as the screen had shut behind them. Angeline could see now that she was older. Her face was full but creased with age. Her mouth, set in a thin line, did not look as if it had ever smiled. Angeline shrank away from her. As the woman pushed back the silken scarf that covered her head, Angeline saw that she had an abundance of thick, black hair, streaked with grey. It was pulled back from her face and fell almost to her waist, smooth and gleaming. Gold hoops swung from her ears.
    The women in the room were mostly young. Some were dark-skinned, a few were as fair as Angeline herself. Some were even blonde. They were all dressed in brightly coloured, flowing gowns. Rings sparkled on their fingers, and to Angeline’s astonishment, on their toes as well. They wore light sandals, mere straps. Obviously these were not shoes to be worn in the filthy streets. Were these concubines? Angeline wondered. Did the children belong to them?
    They patted the children and played with them. Some