This is the fifteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about present
day slavery and gay sex.
The Dahran trilogies are composed to date of 6 novels:
Trilogy one:
The Changed Life
The Reluctant Retrainer
The Market Offer
Trilogy two:
The Special Memories
The Dahran Way
The Dahran Rebuttals (this novel)
Keywords:
authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission, gay, sex
This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.
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Chapter 15--The assumption of benefit
Cui bono? The Romans had it down to a tee. Find out to whose advantage something is and there you will find the doer, the culprit, the beneficiary. To whose good? To whose benefit?
The attempted flight of Madar Sicsou from the Lemon Palace had left me more shaken than I had cared to admit. The fact that he had kidnapped Jack and Fiona's child was a distraction to the underlying problem. The attitude of the slaves who had witnessed his beheading was demonstrated as not a single one failed to turn up for breakfast put his execution in monumental perspective. That too was a distraction, a piece of capital punishment legerdemain which pulled our eye away from where it should have been looking to see the true action or trick.
The fact that the EU slaves were far, far better off at my Palaces than in their under-funded prisons under 24/7 surveillance was appreciated by many of the slaves, but clearly not appreciated by all. Should I make the prisoner-slaves show me that they appreciated and understood their new status in life? If so, how? Should I, as their Master, be just a step above or below on the ladder of humanity in their treatment? I felt that as a slave-owner and as a retrainer of slaves, my business, if such it was and its importance, lay not in humanism but rather in the ownership of human beings which others were willing to sell to me.
These thoughts and more were running through my mind as my evening driver, Jess Tollman, drove me back towards the capital city for a reception at the French Embassy. The ancien Ambassador had been promoted to one of the European capitals. The departing Ambassador had sent me two cases of good Chablis with a `thank you' note for my support in placing his country's TGV bonds. It was the least I could do to see the new man in. The new Ambassador had arrived from a lesser Asian posting and I was on my way to his first official function.
We were motoring at a steady pace along the West Road. `Is there no Country and Western on tonight, Jess?'
I caught his eyes looking at me in the rear-view mirror. They were smiling.
`I thought you would never ask, Boss.'
Soft strains from the Grand Ole Opry, direct from Nashville, filled the Rolls as the desert sped by.
`Jess, music selection is now one of your official functions. Don't wait for me in future. If I don't want it on, I'll let you know soon enough.'
`Thanks, Boss.'
When you have it, flaunt it, is what they say, but when you possess style like our French cousins, you simply let the occasion sell itself.
The grounds of the French Embassy were lit up as if it were their national day. It is not a large Embassy staff-wise as embassies go, but as embassies go, it was firing on all cylinders.
I wore my decoration of St. Michael and St. George. The Ambassador wore his, and mine, being British, looked better and I have always felt that those of us who are honoured with it, are as its motto suggests, `the sign of a better time to come.'
Having got past the reception line in double jig time and having had a flute of Dom Perignon champagne fluidly and expertly placed between the fingers of my right hand by an attentive waiter, I faced bravely into the assembled crowd. It is always advisable at such dos to aim for a window--a quick escape point, or an open space in the room--a venue for air to circulate. I was aiming for a window, when a voice said at my elbow, `Sir Jonathan? Dwight Powers, American Ambassador.'
`Ambassador, my pleasure.'
'The pleasure, sir, is all mine, I can assure you. I have never formally thanked you for what you did at the request our country.'
'Ambassador, what I did was for two very foolish young men. They are now safe, though in a manner which they or their church might never have thought possible. I understand that the rumour has it, according to what your Mr. Chavez told me, that they are now deemed to have died in a boating accident.'
'I understand that is what happened to them. You have made no request of us, Sir Jonathan?'
It was half-statement, half-question.
'I was strongly tempted to send the embassy the bill of the criminal lawyer I had appointed to defend them, but he tells me it is paid out of the public purse. What I cannot understand, Mr. Ambassador...'
'Dwight, please.'
'What I cannot understand, Dwight, is why the embassy contacted me--a banker.'
'A banker, yes and much more. Your reputation of ownership of certain, in Dahran law may I use the word, 'properties' is well-known in diplomatic circles here, where there are few real secrets.'
His sparkling smile had to be seen to be believed.
`Whereas all countries represented by our friendly little circle naturally take the greatest interest in this country's exports, with regard to certain imports, we choose to cultivate, shall we say, a lack of curiosity. As you are well aware, Sir Jonathan, we deem it expedient to let our attention be diverted from anything that may imperil the excellent relations between our nations and the Sheikdom. It is, one might say, a unanimous vote, which, as you can guess, in our professional field is close to a miracle. However, considering the vital resources involved, it is but a small courtesy to a stable and prospering nation.'
He beamed at me again, while my thoughts flew to one of the `imports' sitting outside in my limousine -- imported from Dwight Powers' own country, no less.
'Sir Jonathan, the arrival of those missionaries was, in fact, an accident but which merely advanced our understanding of the efficiency of your contacts and systems. We might have contacted you at some point later on. If I may say so, you passed with flying colours.'
`Your compliments are as kind as they are undeserved, Dwight. It can hardly escape my attention, though, that you have not really answered my question.'
`Our business, Sir Jonathan, is and has always been the bigger picture. Individual occurrences are of interest merely as indicators of the dynamics involved. Whereas I am mainly concerned with Dahra's foreign politics, a country's internal processes must naturally be of interest to someone like myself. Such mechanisms are always better viewed in action than explained. The potential and scope of men such as yourself must necessarily arouse our interest, as they may take on, or, in your own case, already have taken on, an international importance. Otherwise, let me assure you, we would not have encroached upon your valuable time. I can but hope that these, as you say, foolish young men have not been a cause of great inconvenience to you.'
`No inconvenience, I assure you. Quite the contrary,' was my smiling reply.
Moreover, Sir Jonathan,' the Ambassador pursued, I would like to stress that we do not have the slightest intention ever to encroach upon your private arrangements. I am very happy that this matter has been settled to everyone's satisfaction.'
The tone in which he pronounced the words private' and satisfaction' instantly made my inner alarm bells ring, and I felt my stomach contract in anger. But I may have been mistaken, because there was his radiant smile again.
`From what my EU colleagues have mentioned, I can only congratulate you most heartily on the manner in which you have handled such a great number of very difficult cases transferred to you. The entire arrangement is admirable in its convenience and finality. I am glad to say that my own country faces no such difficulties at present.'
'Are you saying that there are no miscarriages of justice in the US, Dwight? Or that your country has no problems with violent crime?' I said with a wicked smile and pursing of my lips.
The answer was a salvo of genial and cultivated laughter.
`You know the answer to this as well as I do, Sir Jonathan, so I will not dwell needlessly on this theme. You misunderstand me. I was merely referring to our own situation, which thankfully gives us ample scope to handle such cases as convenience dictates and, if you will excuse my mentioning the matter in these pleasant surroundings, with absolute finality.'
My interest in prolonging this conversation was rapidly decreasing.
`I am well aware of it, Dwight, though I understand that in the US the technical side varies, excluding for example the use of the scimitar which is customary in this country. It is handled with admirable dexterity, as I can tell you from personal observation.
As for my arrangement with the EU governments, all is not sweetness and light. I have had some unforeseen difficulties that have caused me to re-assess matters in my own mind.'
Dwight Powers flashed his brilliant teeth at me again.
`No difficulties beyond your scope, I am certain, Sir Jonathan. The English preference for understatement is well known to me, but I can assure you there is no need to understate your own capabilities, and, if I may say so, your reputation. Do I understand correctly that in general you are satisfied with the present arrangement with the EU?'
`Yes, I am.'
`Thank you for taking me into your confidence.'
I made as quick an escape from the reception as was decently possible, putting four dainties in a paper serviette for Jess to eat on the way back to the Lime Palace.
To whose benefit my ownership of slaves? Clearly, to my own benefit and I was piggybacking the needs of others and in my own mind, if I was able to achieve something in my own life using the lives of others, then all the better.
I was delighted to receive an invite from Jack and Fiona to celebrate Hogmanay with them and to see in the New Year at their home, the Wisteria Palace. I had not been there since the disastrous evening of the kidnapping of their son, Jason.
Their home had taken on a character of its own, under Fiona's guiding and decorating hand. Even I could appreciate the decor in its muted shades and very feminine drapes in each of the rooms, which I viewed. They had asked me to stay overnight and I had agreed.
Jack and Fiona's slaves seemed to be genuinely delighted to see me. David Tuttle, Jack's cousin and my building engineer was also there.
There is something you can discern in people's and slaves' eyes, when there is true happiness and that was to be seen with Beno and Vedel and even in Harb and Narciso's eyes, when they appeared briefly out of the kitchen. I spent a few moments with Vedel and asked him how his head was.
`Very hard, Master,' Beno quipped back first.
`The scar is healing, Master and Mistress Fiona and Master Jack tell me that I have to have plastic surgery on it in some months time.'
When he said it, I saw not just love in his eyes, I saw adoration.
As we were having a pre-dinner drink, Jack said, `We are not fully installed yet, Uncle Jonathan, but we are getting there. Andy McTee is our new Head of Household and Angus Roberts is our Head of Stables-- he's very good at organising the others in the gardens.'
`I would say, Jack, that you are doing very well. And Fiona, I can see your hand in the decor which is beautiful.'
`Little by little, Jonathan. I see that Jess drove you here tonight. I had to get, Craig, one of my slaves to learn to drive the Lincoln--left-hand drive and all that. But he is a quick learner.'
We moved in to dinner.
Jack's ideas on slaves were different to my own. On going into their dining-room, the table was set in the form of the letter T. Across the upper bar were settings on linen for four--Jack, Fiona, David and myself and down the long bar were simpler settings, on the pinewood of the table for twenty one.
As we sat down, Jack and Fiona in the centre, with me beside Jack and David beside Fiona, the slaves filed in and stood behind their respective chairs. It turned out that each of them had a specific place. When the last one was in position, Jack tapped a glass and all the slaves sat down. I noticed that there were very few electric lights on--subdued indirect lighting on the walls--and that the tables were quite amply bedecked with small stumpy candles, which gave out quite a pleasant smell.
Andy McTee and Thor, across from him, were closest to and up against our table and ranging down the long bar, the Scots. There were four chairs left vacant half way down the table as four slaves became waiters for the evening, then Beno and Vedel opposite each other grinning up at me and beside them, Jess Tollman, the only stranger to that section of the table and fully dressed slave, who raised his glass of water to me in a toast. I could not help but smile, and return the toast.
Two of the waiters had sat down in their respective seats as soon as they had left tureens of soup and covered dishes on the slaves' table and the remaining two hovered in the background behind Jack, Fiona, David and myself.
`Slightly different to the Lime Palace, Uncle Jonathan, what?' Jack said.
`Slightly different indeed, Jack, but very family.'
`That's what Fiona thinks and I agree with her.'
`It takes all sorts, Jack, to make a world and if this works for your household, my heartiest congratulations. What else have you changed?'
`Not actually changed, but done without. No camel-canes.'
I looked at him.
`No corporal punishment for slaves? That is a new one. Fiona's idea?'
`Well, no, Uncle Jonathan, mine actually. They have come to us so well trained that I have had no need. But I know where to find a camel-cane, if ever I do need one,' and he smiled at me.
At that, there was a noise outside and the garden sprinklers came on and out through the ceiling-to-floor double-glazing of the windows sprays of water could be seen appearing and disappearing in the outside dark of the evening.
At the top table, we were well into the entree, a fine rack of lamb, with loads of salads and I noticed the slaves were having the same salads--when the two waiters left some large dessert dishes on a side table and then proceeded to sit down, closely followed by Harb and Narciso out of the kitchen. The four latecomers started to dig into the first course, a soupe a l'oignon which was a meal in itself.
Jack stood up and tapped his glass. There was silence as faces looked up at those of us at the top table.
`This is our first Hogmanay at our new home, your new home. It is, I hope, the first of many. Fiona and I are delighted to welcome our uncle Jonathan and our cousin David to join our celebrations. First, Fiona and I want to continue one of Uncle Jonathan's traditions in giving each of you a personal gift from both of us. In our household and Palace, we shall always do it on this night.'
Turning he took a box from the table behind him and placed it between his setting on the table and the candles in the mid-table. It was a box of necklaces in white gold, the symbol of his household. One by one, he called the slaves of their household forward, and handing necklace after necklace to Fiona, she put them over each slave's head starting with Andy McTee and Angus Roberts. Each of them knelt down to kiss her feet and put her right foot on the back of his neck, and then made the same submission to Jack. Andy took off my gold necklace and came over to me, went on his knees making an obeisance with his forehead on the ground, and handed me back the gold necklace I had once given him.
The only two slaves, who had already white gold necklaces had come from the Lime Palace, Beno and Vedel. Thor, I noticed was not called and he just kept fingering his own gold necklace, which I had given him, as indeed the other Swedes, so that they would not have been left out of my household.
Fiona had a word for each slave and one of her wee kisses on their cheek for each. A number wiped tears from their eyes, as they returned to their seats.
When the last slave was just sitting down, Jack who was still on his feet, raised his glass in a toast and said To our home.' The slaves got their feet in unison, as indeed did David and I and To our home' resonated round the dining-room.
It was one o'clock before we got to bed. Jack had opened two quarts of Scotch and everyone, slaves and all, were given a `wee dram.'
Jack was too busy to notice that Thor just tasted his and quickly poured it into Andy's glass. As I was smiling at the quickness of his action, I noticed that Beno and Vedel were sniffing the fumes of the whisky. They were looking at each other and when they thought no one was looking, one poured his into Jess's glass, while the other poured his into that of the Scot beside him. Harb and Narciso nursed theirs like veterans, while the Scots sipped and savoured what was, in effect, a measure that would have been tossed back in a single gulp in distant, heathery highland and lowland venues on that night.
Finally everyone rose. Jack and Fiona had assigned their two cooks as body slaves to David for the night, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him grab a smiling Harb from behind and gently biting his neck. For David, it seemed, the evening was not yet over.
I bid my goodnights to my hosts and to David and was conducted upstairs by one of the Scots. Jess followed. My things had been laid out, the bed turned down, the window half open to allow the evening breeze to ventilate the room.
Jess Tollman was to share the cot beside my bed, doubling up as both driver and body slave. An army-type cot was to the side of the room with a blanket on it for him. Jess helped me undress and put the clothes of the day to one side.
My eyes were beginning to close and after some quick solitary ablutions, I stepped back into the bedroom. I noticed that Jess's blanket had been unfolded over his cot.
`Did you have a good night, Jess?'
`The very best of nights, Boss. The Scots have a weird sense of humour, but great whisky.'
`Yes, indeed, two whiskies, I think, in your case.'
`You saw, Boss?'
`I saw!' and tired and all that I was I could not help laughing at Jess, who could not decide if I were happy or annoyed at that.
`Jess, into the bed. Let's go asleep. Nothing is going to happen tonight, I'm too tired, but you never know what we might do in the morning.'
Jess Tollman spooned up behind me. A warm arm came around my chest. I remember that I felt the pressure of his half-tumescent cock in the crack of my backside and then I was asleep, because the next thing I knew, or rather heard, was the swishing sound of water being sprayed in the early morning.
I turned towards Jess who was still sound asleep. His torso, naked to below his belly button, was a golden brown; his chest barely rising and deflating with his breathing; his finely chiselled features devoid of any blemish. I laid my hand on his chest and stroked his left nipple. It hardened under my touch and Jess made himself comfortable against the new sensation. I let my hand rest there and felt the firm beating of his heart. His skin was warm under my hand and as I looked at him, his eyes moved under his eyelids, perhaps in a late dream, perhaps a simple body reflex.
Suddenly, he turned towards me and an arm was flung over my body. Jess's eyes half-opened, closed and then blinked open in the morning light.
`Boss, you're awake.'
`Jess, you're alive and observant.'
`How long have you been awake?'
`Long enough to take in the beauty of your body.'
Jess smiled and I felt his hand run up my back.
I slid the bedclothes down and his well-proportioned cock had a morning hard-on.
`Boss, I need to take a piss something terrible.'
`Who's stopping you? And on the way back make sure you are well lubed.'
He gave a grin and hopped out of the bed and into the bathroom, where there was in rapid succession a tinkling of liquid on liquid, a series of half-grunts, the rattle of the enema tube and two minutes of utter quiet.
Jess came back into the bedroom and slipped up on the bed. I had my morning hard-on pointing to the ceiling and like the well-trained slave he is, Jess required no telling. He put a knee on either side of my hips and lowered himself onto my erection.
I put my hands back behind my head and closed my eyes to the pleasure of Jess Tollman rising and falling on my hardness, clenching, relaxing, sitting down fully, slowly rising. When at one stage, I half-opened my eyes, there was he with his hands clasped behind his neck, his beautiful lightly haired pits visible to my sight moving up and down in total synchronisation with his upper body's movements. His abdominal muscles were packed tight one atop the other and on his lips, the lightest of smiles.
`A penny for them, Jess.'
`Boss?'
`Your thoughts?'
`No thoughts, Boss, just enjoying the pleasure of the moment. If you are feeling a tenth of what I am, you are lucky.'
`Lucky, am I?' and I reached down and started to rub the tip of his already hardening cock. I slipped its foreskin back over the plum head of his manhood and he started to arch.
`Boss, that's not fair. No hands. You are going to have me over the edge if you don't stop.'
I didn't and Jess came over the edge two minutes later. I was covered with his sweet cum, which when I tasted it had a flavour of nutmeg about it.
`Lick your cum off my body, Jess, as there must sure be a lot of whisky in it after last night.'
`Don't move, Boss. Don't move a muscle' he said as his tongue and lips went into overdrive.
At breakfast, David asked Fiona to give him a tour of the house, and as this promised to involve more technical and aesthetic conversation than I cared for on a New Year's Day, Jack and I escaped to the garden.
We strolled past the garden plots, Jack commenting that here was the origin of last night's vegetables and salads.
`So what's with the eating arrangements? Socialism meets slavery?'
He gave me an odd look.
`You are making fun of me, Uncle Jonathan. What difference does it make if I sit at the same table as my slaves? They are my property. You don't seriously think they need to eat out here in the garden to remember that?'
`If you put it this frankly, probably not.'
He shrugged.
`One day Jason will be old enough to talk, and ask us more questions than we will ever be able to answer. He will want to know about our slaves. We will have to explain the system to him, and explain why he must not say anything about them when we visit our family in Scotland, not even mention their names. We might as well be frank about it from the start.'
`And arrange things as it suits you, I suppose.'
`It depends on how important they are to us. This arrangement was. At the beginning, it meant putting a lot of stress on them, making them unlearn again what they had learned. Look at some of Fiona's slaves, they have been here for more than a decade. I think most slaves like rules, because they save them from the constant worry whether they are doing the right thing.'
`And when you change the rules, they are left at sea?'
`Not necessarily, you are right. But it does not come easily. On the first night when we all had dinner together, everyone was extremely awkward. They looked as if they expected the chairs to disappear from under them and let them land on the floor! Fiona and I stuck to talking to each other all the time, and afterwards we wondered whether we should not call the whole thing off.'
`What gave you the idea in the first place?'
`We like seeing our slaves at dinner and talking with them. Not just about what has to be done, but also to see how they are getting on. Beno and Vedel are very close to us, and having owned them and loved them for a while now, I can read them like an open book. With the others, at times, we need to be a little more observant. Most of them are older than we are, and they have yet to learn to trust us fully. This place is not huge, and if there is discord, they can't just avoid each other. We don't want hidden conflicts festering, and we don't want to put all the responsibility about what is going on among them on Andy's and Angus' shoulders.'
`Is Andy handling it well?'
`I think so. So far, we have not had any great problems with our slaves. They are nice. They are well-trained, and they are not ignorant. They know that we have bought them to serve us. They also know that if they are not willing, we can force them to do what we want. Or, in Narciso's and Harb's case, you bought them to serve us. Thank you again for these two, Uncle Jonathan. Could you tell Flavio when you get home how pleased we are with them both?'
`Of course I'll do that. He will be delighted.'
When I got back to the Lime Palace, I started looking in earnest for some papers Gustav Ahlson had asked me for. With the transfer of ownership of the Aloe Palace, he had received a floor plan, but the contract for the safe room was still buried somewhere. I had not given any information about it to anyone beyond Aziz and Pete Downings, the latter having spent an anxious period of waiting in the room with his lover Randy when our properties had been attacked by raiders. Now that the Palace was Gustav's, I did not want to involve my secretary, even though I trusted him fully with my own affairs.
I finally found the security company's documents in my safe, among paper debris from my first months in Dahra. Having put them into an envelope for Gustav, I sorted through the rest, to see if there was anything I could throw away. That is how a folder fell into my hands, on which were written, in fluid Arabian letters, the words `Aziz al-Aziz.'
Sitting down at my desk, I opened the folder of my head of household, the first slave I had bought in Dahra, after having accepted seven others as gifts. Is it possible to review someone else's life in a couple of hours? If anything comes close to it, that is what I did. I closed the folder. I closed my eyes. And wondered.
What had been achieved so far since Aziz's manumission? And -- when I had requested the Sheik to sign his Declaration of Freedom, for whose benefit had I done it?
Aziz was now a director of the Buddy Foundation, just as I had planned. He was the Master in his own house. He had his own slaves, who were loyal to him and respected him. He had a position of authority in my Palace that corresponded to his formidable talents.
Was he my employee? I thought about the doctors, Yves, Cal, and Nacho. Was Aziz, now a freeman, just like them? He was free to go where he wished.
Can one eliminate a lifetime of slavery with a golden fountain pen? Aziz had his life and status inside my properties. What did he know of the world beyond?
I put the folder of the former slave Aziz al-Aziz back into the safe for the moment, and took Gustav's papers to the Aloe Palace.
The next day found me in the capital city inside one of the more exclusive travel agencies. After scouring a whole heap of catalogues, the travel agent across from me began showing slight signs of strain, but I paid no heed to her. When one chooses something for the very first holiday of a lifetime, one is allowed to be a little picky, right?
What finally caught my eye was a glossy brochure of ocean voyages, with a page showing the Seychelles Empress on one of her Indian Ocean voyages.
'It takes a month and two days for the trip,' the agent commented. `The cruise is from Bahrain, down to the Seychelles, on to Mauritius, back up by the Maldive Islands and back to Bahrain. Very distinguished, if I may say so.'
`Excellent. I will get back to you for the booking. It is not for me, but for a friend.'
The travel agent handed me her business card to go with the brochure and said that she would be delighted to be of further assistance.
`I have a further request. Do you have any contacts to agencies for interpreters?'
`We do indeed. There are always requests coming in from hotels and foreign companies. English, I suppose?'
`Well, actually...Yes, English will be fine.'
`Here you are. Would you like me to call them myself?'
`If you would be so kind. I would like to meet one of their best people as soon as possible.'
This is how, just an hour and a half later, I was seated in yet another office, face to face with a Dahran in his early twenties, dressed in a light European suit, with two bowls of fragrant steaming tea between us. He had introduced himself as Asad Al-Sidrah. His ready smile and dark glinting eyes conveyed an openness of manner and a humorous spark that immediately spurred my hopes on. If ever anyone exuded versatility and a readiness to cope with the unexpected, it should be him. The fact that his English sounded better than mine almost made me regret that I had no intention of hiring him as an interpreter.
Much as I generally loathe anything remotely resembling a job interview, in Asad Al-Sidrah's case I experienced none of the discomfort I usually feel during such odious tasks -- another point in his favour.
`Asad, I would like to hire you to accompany a good friend of mine on a holiday trip which, if he accepts the offer, would take about a month's time. It is a cruise on the Indian Ocean, and my friend needs the professional services of someone like yourself. Would you be interested?'
`A cruise, for a month? Certainly, sir. There are no appointments I could not easily transfer to my colleagues at the agency. Your friend is English?'
`Actually, now comes the difficult part. My friend is not English, and if he needs an interpreter, it is not in the conventional sense of the word. You have, no doubt, in the course of various assignments used your tact dealing with the ignorance of us foreigners not just in matters of language. I don't know how many times you must have drawn somebody's attention to the fact that they should not offend others by stretching out the soles of their feet towards them? Or not to take food or anything else with the left hand? Or not to beckon anyone with the forefinger?'
Asad Al-Sidrah grinned.
`Yes, sir, I see what you mean. Countless times, I can assure you. My favourites are reminding them not to ask their business partners about their wives and female relatives, and not to praise any of their host's material belongings, if they don't want to end up with them as a gift.'
I laughed, remembering my readily forgiven faux pas during my early encounters with my friend Tariq al-Akhri.
`What are the most frequent questions you are asked?'
`A number of things, generally about how to avoid getting into trouble with the law. And where they can consume alcohol discreetly. That is, if they are not already checked into one of the international hotels.'
He smiled at me again.
`My friend is not a foreigner, but he is still a foreigner to all countries, including his own. He is a citizen of Dahra like you and was awarded his citizenship by His Excellency himself. He is, I would guess, about twice your age, and has spent almost his entire lifetime as a slave. Until his freedom, he had been my head of household at my country estate here in Dahra. He is still in my employ as head of my household, and what I would really like to achieve with your help is facilitate his encounter with the world that lies without. Well, and that he enjoys the trip of course, which will be his first ever.'
Asad Al-Sidrah had nodded several times during my recital.
This is an unusual request, sir. I shall be happy to accept and be at your friend's disposal for absolutely any help and explanations he needs. I did not grow up in a household with slaves myself. One of my best friends did, though, and I can just imagine some of the difficulties... Do I need money for this? How do I ask someone to get this for me? What does one do on a holiday?!' Oh my. At least, on a ship, we can't lose each other.'
`Yes, you see what I mean. You can begin by travelling in a car, which he is not totally unfamiliar with any more, and then move on to the tough stuff: airplanes and cruise ships. And please remember: I don't just want you to push the elevator buttons for him. I want you to show him how he can push them himself!'
`I understand, sir. It will be my pleasure. This will be my first job on which I can speak Arabic all the time!'
`Actually, my friend speaks very good English, too. It will probably depend on in whose company you spend time on the boat, so don't count on it yet. Thank you very much, Asad. We shall get back to you once I have put the whole idea before him.'
Aziz, when baited with the cruise ship brochure, surprised me by choosing a stateroom for thirty thousand euro and throwing in two servants provided by the company. He absolutely refused any offer from my side to pay for his holiday myself.
'I shall have to pay for the trip and shall need some money for the journey if I have expenses, but it says that all is included in this option, only the servants will be extra,' and with that he produced a cheque book which showed a cash balance of just under four hundred fifty thousand euro.
I made a quick calculation and realised that in two entire years, Aziz had furnished his residence and maintained his staff on less than fifty thousand euro. Now that was some sort of economic miracle that not even ministers of finance can do! I knew that Aziz's only income was his yearly honorarium from the Buddy Foundation of quarter of a million.
'But I have to make arrangements about the Palace here, Jonathan, and my own household.'
'Aziz, forget about the Lime Palace. I have Pete Downings at a loose end now that Gustav has his Swedes at the Aloe Palace. You have no arrangements of importance to make. Yedo will look after your household. When you come back, we shall have to draw you up a proper work contract like the one for the doctors, if that is alright by you or if that is what you want? This year, I went to the travel agency on your behalf, but for your annual holidays in the future you will wish to choose for yourself. I have one more thing here, Aziz, that I should have given you a long time ago.'
And I produced his personal slave folder which I had received with his purchase from Abdou al-Akhri.
`It is yours, maybe you would like to keep it, or read it, or just throw it away.'
Aziz looked at the folder containing his documents, then looked up and gave me one of his rare smiles.
`Thank you, Jonathan. I shall keep it. I shall read it, too. It will turn my thoughts to the past, and then back again to the present and future. But not now. Now I have to wonder what one needs to pack for a voyage on the -- what did it say? -- on the Indian Ocean.'
So it was to be. Aziz booked his holiday. Pete Downings would take interim charge of the Lime Palace for him and Yedo would look after his residence. His meeting with Asad Al-Sidrah was an amiable one, the Dahran interpreter cheerfully promising to cope with absolutely any questions or unfamiliar situations that might arise, and Aziz afterwards insisting that he would pay for his `interpreter' himself.
I had Aziz transfer a hundred thousand euro to the Bursar of the Seychelles Empress for any cash purchases he might want to make on his holiday, though he said he could think of none.
'Souvenirs, Aziz?'
'What are souvenirs, Jonathan?'
'I think you will find out when you go ashore and visit these marvellous places you are going to see.'
As Aziz al-Aziz was going to be an innocent abroad, I personally rang the Bursar of the cruise liner and explained that His Excellency did not normally travel abroad and would be on board for the month of February, that he would have a very discreet and trustworthy servant with him at all times, plus the two provided by the company, and that I had had His Excellency transfer one hundred thousand as pocket money for the month. I also ordered the Bursar to ring me personally, if anything at all happened out of the ordinary. The Bursar confirmed that he had seen the transfer arrive and he promised to contact me without fail as instructed.
End of Chapter 15
To be continued . . .
This is the fifteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about present
day slavery and gay sex.
The Dahran trilogies are composed to date of 6 novels:
Trilogy one:
The Changed Life
The Reluctant Retrainer
The Market Offer
Trilogy two:
The Special Memories
The Dahran Way
The Dahran Rebuttals (this novel)
Keywords:
authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission, gay, sex
This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.
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Chapter 15--The assumption of benefit
Cui bono? The Romans had it down to a tee. Find out to whose advantage something is and there you will find the doer, the culprit, the beneficiary. To whose good? To whose benefit?
The attempted flight of Madar Sicsou from the Lemon Palace had left me more shaken than I had cared to admit. The fact that he had kidnapped Jack and Fiona's child was a distraction to the underlying problem. The attitude of the slaves who had witnessed his beheading was demonstrated as not a single one failed to turn up for breakfast put his execution in monumental perspective. That too was a distraction, a piece of capital punishment legerdemain which pulled our eye away from where it should have been looking to see the true action or trick.
The fact that the EU slaves were far, far better off at my Palaces than in their under-funded prisons under 24/7 surveillance was appreciated by many of the slaves, but clearly not appreciated by all. Should I make the prisoner-slaves show me that they appreciated and understood their new status in life? If so, how? Should I, as their Master, be just a step above or below on the ladder of humanity in their treatment? I felt that as a slave-owner and as a retrainer of slaves, my business, if such it was and its importance, lay not in humanism but rather in the ownership of human beings which others were willing to sell to me.
These thoughts and more were running through my mind as my evening driver, Jess Tollman, drove me back towards the capital city for a reception at the French Embassy. The ancien Ambassador had been promoted to one of the European capitals. The departing Ambassador had sent me two cases of good Chablis with a `thank you' note for my support in placing his country's TGV bonds. It was the least I could do to see the new man in. The new Ambassador had arrived from a lesser Asian posting and I was on my way to his first official function.
We were motoring at a steady pace along the West Road. `Is there no Country and Western on tonight, Jess?'
I caught his eyes looking at me in the rear-view mirror. They were smiling.
`I thought you would never ask, Boss.'
Soft strains from the Grand Ole Opry, direct from Nashville, filled the Rolls as the desert sped by.
`Jess, music selection is now one of your official functions. Don't wait for me in future. If I don't want it on, I'll let you know soon enough.'
`Thanks, Boss.'
When you have it, flaunt it, is what they say, but when you possess style like our French cousins, you simply let the occasion sell itself.
The grounds of the French Embassy were lit up as if it were their national day. It is not a large Embassy staff-wise as embassies go, but as embassies go, it was firing on all cylinders.
I wore my decoration of St. Michael and St. George. The Ambassador wore his, and mine, being British, looked better and I have always felt that those of us who are honoured with it, are as its motto suggests, `the sign of a better time to come.'
Having got past the reception line in double jig time and having had a flute of Dom Perignon champagne fluidly and expertly placed between the fingers of my right hand by an attentive waiter, I faced bravely into the assembled crowd. It is always advisable at such dos to aim for a window--a quick escape point, or an open space in the room--a venue for air to circulate. I was aiming for a window, when a voice said at my elbow, `Sir Jonathan? Dwight Powers, American Ambassador.'
`Ambassador, my pleasure.'
'The pleasure, sir, is all mine, I can assure you. I have never formally thanked you for what you did at the request our country.'
'Ambassador, what I did was for two very foolish young men. They are now safe, though in a manner which they or their church might never have thought possible. I understand that the rumour has it, according to what your Mr. Chavez told me, that they are now deemed to have died in a boating accident.'
'I understand that is what happened to them. You have made no request of us, Sir Jonathan?'
It was half-statement, half-question.
'I was strongly tempted to send the embassy the bill of the criminal lawyer I had appointed to defend them, but he tells me it is paid out of the public purse. What I cannot understand, Mr. Ambassador...'
'Dwight, please.'
'What I cannot understand, Dwight, is why the embassy contacted me--a banker.'
'A banker, yes and much more. Your reputation of ownership of certain, in Dahran law may I use the word, 'properties' is well-known in diplomatic circles here, where there are few real secrets.'
His sparkling smile had to be seen to be believed.
`Whereas all countries represented by our friendly little circle naturally take the greatest interest in this country's exports, with regard to certain imports, we choose to cultivate, shall we say, a lack of curiosity. As you are well aware, Sir Jonathan, we deem it expedient to let our attention be diverted from anything that may imperil the excellent relations between our nations and the Sheikdom. It is, one might say, a unanimous vote, which, as you can guess, in our professional field is close to a miracle. However, considering the vital resources involved, it is but a small courtesy to a stable and prospering nation.'
He beamed at me again, while my thoughts flew to one of the `imports' sitting outside in my limousine -- imported from Dwight Powers' own country, no less.
'Sir Jonathan, the arrival of those missionaries was, in fact, an accident but which merely advanced our understanding of the efficiency of your contacts and systems. We might have contacted you at some point later on. If I may say so, you passed with flying colours.'
`Your compliments are as kind as they are undeserved, Dwight. It can hardly escape my attention, though, that you have not really answered my question.'
`Our business, Sir Jonathan, is and has always been the bigger picture. Individual occurrences are of interest merely as indicators of the dynamics involved. Whereas I am mainly concerned with Dahra's foreign politics, a country's internal processes must naturally be of interest to someone like myself. Such mechanisms are always better viewed in action than explained. The potential and scope of men such as yourself must necessarily arouse our interest, as they may take on, or, in your own case, already have taken on, an international importance. Otherwise, let me assure you, we would not have encroached upon your valuable time. I can but hope that these, as you say, foolish young men have not been a cause of great inconvenience to you.'
`No inconvenience, I assure you. Quite the contrary,' was my smiling reply.
Moreover, Sir Jonathan,' the Ambassador pursued, I would like to stress that we do not have the slightest intention ever to encroach upon your private arrangements. I am very happy that this matter has been settled to everyone's satisfaction.'
The tone in which he pronounced the words private' and satisfaction' instantly made my inner alarm bells ring, and I felt my stomach contract in anger. But I may have been mistaken, because there was his radiant smile again.
`From what my EU colleagues have mentioned, I can only congratulate you most heartily on the manner in which you have handled such a great number of very difficult cases transferred to you. The entire arrangement is admirable in its convenience and finality. I am glad to say that my own country faces no such difficulties at present.'
'Are you saying that there are no miscarriages of justice in the US, Dwight? Or that your country has no problems with violent crime?' I said with a wicked smile and pursing of my lips.
The answer was a salvo of genial and cultivated laughter.
`You know the answer to this as well as I do, Sir Jonathan, so I will not dwell needlessly on this theme. You misunderstand me. I was merely referring to our own situation, which thankfully gives us ample scope to handle such cases as convenience dictates and, if you will excuse my mentioning the matter in these pleasant surroundings, with absolute finality.'
My interest in prolonging this conversation was rapidly decreasing.
`I am well aware of it, Dwight, though I understand that in the US the technical side varies, excluding for example the use of the scimitar which is customary in this country. It is handled with admirable dexterity, as I can tell you from personal observation.
As for my arrangement with the EU governments, all is not sweetness and light. I have had some unforeseen difficulties that have caused me to re-assess matters in my own mind.'
Dwight Powers flashed his brilliant teeth at me again.
`No difficulties beyond your scope, I am certain, Sir Jonathan. The English preference for understatement is well known to me, but I can assure you there is no need to understate your own capabilities, and, if I may say so, your reputation. Do I understand correctly that in general you are satisfied with the present arrangement with the EU?'
`Yes, I am.'
`Thank you for taking me into your confidence.'
I made as quick an escape from the reception as was decently possible, putting four dainties in a paper serviette for Jess to eat on the way back to the Lime Palace.
To whose benefit my ownership of slaves? Clearly, to my own benefit and I was piggybacking the needs of others and in my own mind, if I was able to achieve something in my own life using the lives of others, then all the better.
I was delighted to receive an invite from Jack and Fiona to celebrate Hogmanay with them and to see in the New Year at their home, the Wisteria Palace. I had not been there since the disastrous evening of the kidnapping of their son, Jason.
Their home had taken on a character of its own, under Fiona's guiding and decorating hand. Even I could appreciate the decor in its muted shades and very feminine drapes in each of the rooms, which I viewed. They had asked me to stay overnight and I had agreed.
Jack and Fiona's slaves seemed to be genuinely delighted to see me. David Tuttle, Jack's cousin and my building engineer was also there.
There is something you can discern in people's and slaves' eyes, when there is true happiness and that was to be seen with Beno and Vedel and even in Harb and Narciso's eyes, when they appeared briefly out of the kitchen. I spent a few moments with Vedel and asked him how his head was.
`Very hard, Master,' Beno quipped back first.
`The scar is healing, Master and Mistress Fiona and Master Jack tell me that I have to have plastic surgery on it in some months time.'
When he said it, I saw not just love in his eyes, I saw adoration.
As we were having a pre-dinner drink, Jack said, `We are not fully installed yet, Uncle Jonathan, but we are getting there. Andy McTee is our new Head of Household and Angus Roberts is our Head of Stables-- he's very good at organising the others in the gardens.'
`I would say, Jack, that you are doing very well. And Fiona, I can see your hand in the decor which is beautiful.'
`Little by little, Jonathan. I see that Jess drove you here tonight. I had to get, Craig, one of my slaves to learn to drive the Lincoln--left-hand drive and all that. But he is a quick learner.'
We moved in to dinner.
Jack's ideas on slaves were different to my own. On going into their dining-room, the table was set in the form of the letter T. Across the upper bar were settings on linen for four--Jack, Fiona, David and myself and down the long bar were simpler settings, on the pinewood of the table for twenty one.
As we sat down, Jack and Fiona in the centre, with me beside Jack and David beside Fiona, the slaves filed in and stood behind their respective chairs. It turned out that each of them had a specific place. When the last one was in position, Jack tapped a glass and all the slaves sat down. I noticed that there were very few electric lights on--subdued indirect lighting on the walls--and that the tables were quite amply bedecked with small stumpy candles, which gave out quite a pleasant smell.
Andy McTee and Thor, across from him, were closest to and up against our table and ranging down the long bar, the Scots. There were four chairs left vacant half way down the table as four slaves became waiters for the evening, then Beno and Vedel opposite each other grinning up at me and beside them, Jess Tollman, the only stranger to that section of the table and fully dressed slave, who raised his glass of water to me in a toast. I could not help but smile, and return the toast.
Two of the waiters had sat down in their respective seats as soon as they had left tureens of soup and covered dishes on the slaves' table and the remaining two hovered in the background behind Jack, Fiona, David and myself.
`Slightly different to the Lime Palace, Uncle Jonathan, what?' Jack said.
`Slightly different indeed, Jack, but very family.'
`That's what Fiona thinks and I agree with her.'
`It takes all sorts, Jack, to make a world and if this works for your household, my heartiest congratulations. What else have you changed?'
`Not actually changed, but done without. No camel-canes.'
I looked at him.
`No corporal punishment for slaves? That is a new one. Fiona's idea?'
`Well, no, Uncle Jonathan, mine actually. They have come to us so well trained that I have had no need. But I know where to find a camel-cane, if ever I do need one,' and he smiled at me.
At that, there was a noise outside and the garden sprinklers came on and out through the ceiling-to-floor double-glazing of the windows sprays of water could be seen appearing and disappearing in the outside dark of the evening.
At the top table, we were well into the entree, a fine rack of lamb, with loads of salads and I noticed the slaves were having the same salads--when the two waiters left some large dessert dishes on a side table and then proceeded to sit down, closely followed by Harb and Narciso out of the kitchen. The four latecomers started to dig into the first course, a soupe a l'oignon which was a meal in itself.
Jack stood up and tapped his glass. There was silence as faces looked up at those of us at the top table.
`This is our first Hogmanay at our new home, your new home. It is, I hope, the first of many. Fiona and I are delighted to welcome our uncle Jonathan and our cousin David to join our celebrations. First, Fiona and I want to continue one of Uncle Jonathan's traditions in giving each of you a personal gift from both of us. In our household and Palace, we shall always do it on this night.'
Turning he took a box from the table behind him and placed it between his setting on the table and the candles in the mid-table. It was a box of necklaces in white gold, the symbol of his household. One by one, he called the slaves of their household forward, and handing necklace after necklace to Fiona, she put them over each slave's head starting with Andy McTee and Angus Roberts. Each of them knelt down to kiss her feet and put her right foot on the back of his neck, and then made the same submission to Jack. Andy took off my gold necklace and came over to me, went on his knees making an obeisance with his forehead on the ground, and handed me back the gold necklace I had once given him.
The only two slaves, who had already white gold necklaces had come from the Lime Palace, Beno and Vedel. Thor, I noticed was not called and he just kept fingering his own gold necklace, which I had given him, as indeed the other Swedes, so that they would not have been left out of my household.
Fiona had a word for each slave and one of her wee kisses on their cheek for each. A number wiped tears from their eyes, as they returned to their seats.
When the last slave was just sitting down, Jack who was still on his feet, raised his glass in a toast and said To our home.' The slaves got their feet in unison, as indeed did David and I and To our home' resonated round the dining-room.
It was one o'clock before we got to bed. Jack had opened two quarts of Scotch and everyone, slaves and all, were given a `wee dram.'
Jack was too busy to notice that Thor just tasted his and quickly poured it into Andy's glass. As I was smiling at the quickness of his action, I noticed that Beno and Vedel were sniffing the fumes of the whisky. They were looking at each other and when they thought no one was looking, one poured his into Jess's glass, while the other poured his into that of the Scot beside him. Harb and Narciso nursed theirs like veterans, while the Scots sipped and savoured what was, in effect, a measure that would have been tossed back in a single gulp in distant, heathery highland and lowland venues on that night.
Finally everyone rose. Jack and Fiona had assigned their two cooks as body slaves to David for the night, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him grab a smiling Harb from behind and gently biting his neck. For David, it seemed, the evening was not yet over.
I bid my goodnights to my hosts and to David and was conducted upstairs by one of the Scots. Jess followed. My things had been laid out, the bed turned down, the window half open to allow the evening breeze to ventilate the room.
Jess Tollman was to share the cot beside my bed, doubling up as both driver and body slave. An army-type cot was to the side of the room with a blanket on it for him. Jess helped me undress and put the clothes of the day to one side.
My eyes were beginning to close and after some quick solitary ablutions, I stepped back into the bedroom. I noticed that Jess's blanket had been unfolded over his cot.
`Did you have a good night, Jess?'
`The very best of nights, Boss. The Scots have a weird sense of humour, but great whisky.'
`Yes, indeed, two whiskies, I think, in your case.'
`You saw, Boss?'
`I saw!' and tired and all that I was I could not help laughing at Jess, who could not decide if I were happy or annoyed at that.
`Jess, into the bed. Let's go asleep. Nothing is going to happen tonight, I'm too tired, but you never know what we might do in the morning.'
Jess Tollman spooned up behind me. A warm arm came around my chest. I remember that I felt the pressure of his half-tumescent cock in the crack of my backside and then I was asleep, because the next thing I knew, or rather heard, was the swishing sound of water being sprayed in the early morning.
I turned towards Jess who was still sound asleep. His torso, naked to below his belly button, was a golden brown; his chest barely rising and deflating with his breathing; his finely chiselled features devoid of any blemish. I laid my hand on his chest and stroked his left nipple. It hardened under my touch and Jess made himself comfortable against the new sensation. I let my hand rest there and felt the firm beating of his heart. His skin was warm under my hand and as I looked at him, his eyes moved under his eyelids, perhaps in a late dream, perhaps a simple body reflex.
Suddenly, he turned towards me and an arm was flung over my body. Jess's eyes half-opened, closed and then blinked open in the morning light.
`Boss, you're awake.'
`Jess, you're alive and observant.'
`How long have you been awake?'
`Long enough to take in the beauty of your body.'
Jess smiled and I felt his hand run up my back.
I slid the bedclothes down and his well-proportioned cock had a morning hard-on.
`Boss, I need to take a piss something terrible.'
`Who's stopping you? And on the way back make sure you are well lubed.'
He gave a grin and hopped out of the bed and into the bathroom, where there was in rapid succession a tinkling of liquid on liquid, a series of half-grunts, the rattle of the enema tube and two minutes of utter quiet.
Jess came back into the bedroom and slipped up on the bed. I had my morning hard-on pointing to the ceiling and like the well-trained slave he is, Jess required no telling. He put a knee on either side of my hips and lowered himself onto my erection.
I put my hands back behind my head and closed my eyes to the pleasure of Jess Tollman rising and falling on my hardness, clenching, relaxing, sitting down fully, slowly rising. When at one stage, I half-opened my eyes, there was he with his hands clasped behind his neck, his beautiful lightly haired pits visible to my sight moving up and down in total synchronisation with his upper body's movements. His abdominal muscles were packed tight one atop the other and on his lips, the lightest of smiles.
`A penny for them, Jess.'
`Boss?'
`Your thoughts?'
`No thoughts, Boss, just enjoying the pleasure of the moment. If you are feeling a tenth of what I am, you are lucky.'
`Lucky, am I?' and I reached down and started to rub the tip of his already hardening cock. I slipped its foreskin back over the plum head of his manhood and he started to arch.
`Boss, that's not fair. No hands. You are going to have me over the edge if you don't stop.'
I didn't and Jess came over the edge two minutes later. I was covered with his sweet cum, which when I tasted it had a flavour of nutmeg about it.
`Lick your cum off my body, Jess, as there must sure be a lot of whisky in it after last night.'
`Don't move, Boss. Don't move a muscle' he said as his tongue and lips went into overdrive.
At breakfast, David asked Fiona to give him a tour of the house, and as this promised to involve more technical and aesthetic conversation than I cared for on a New Year's Day, Jack and I escaped to the garden.
We strolled past the garden plots, Jack commenting that here was the origin of last night's vegetables and salads.
`So what's with the eating arrangements? Socialism meets slavery?'
He gave me an odd look.
`You are making fun of me, Uncle Jonathan. What difference does it make if I sit at the same table as my slaves? They are my property. You don't seriously think they need to eat out here in the garden to remember that?'
`If you put it this frankly, probably not.'
He shrugged.
`One day Jason will be old enough to talk, and ask us more questions than we will ever be able to answer. He will want to know about our slaves. We will have to explain the system to him, and explain why he must not say anything about them when we visit our family in Scotland, not even mention their names. We might as well be frank about it from the start.'
`And arrange things as it suits you, I suppose.'
`It depends on how important they are to us. This arrangement was. At the beginning, it meant putting a lot of stress on them, making them unlearn again what they had learned. Look at some of Fiona's slaves, they have been here for more than a decade. I think most slaves like rules, because they save them from the constant worry whether they are doing the right thing.'
`And when you change the rules, they are left at sea?'
`Not necessarily, you are right. But it does not come easily. On the first night when we all had dinner together, everyone was extremely awkward. They looked as if they expected the chairs to disappear from under them and let them land on the floor! Fiona and I stuck to talking to each other all the time, and afterwards we wondered whether we should not call the whole thing off.'
`What gave you the idea in the first place?'
`We like seeing our slaves at dinner and talking with them. Not just about what has to be done, but also to see how they are getting on. Beno and Vedel are very close to us, and having owned them and loved them for a while now, I can read them like an open book. With the others, at times, we need to be a little more observant. Most of them are older than we are, and they have yet to learn to trust us fully. This place is not huge, and if there is discord, they can't just avoid each other. We don't want hidden conflicts festering, and we don't want to put all the responsibility about what is going on among them on Andy's and Angus' shoulders.'
`Is Andy handling it well?'
`I think so. So far, we have not had any great problems with our slaves. They are nice. They are well-trained, and they are not ignorant. They know that we have bought them to serve us. They also know that if they are not willing, we can force them to do what we want. Or, in Narciso's and Harb's case, you bought them to serve us. Thank you again for these two, Uncle Jonathan. Could you tell Flavio when you get home how pleased we are with them both?'
`Of course I'll do that. He will be delighted.'
When I got back to the Lime Palace, I started looking in earnest for some papers Gustav Ahlson had asked me for. With the transfer of ownership of the Aloe Palace, he had received a floor plan, but the contract for the safe room was still buried somewhere. I had not given any information about it to anyone beyond Aziz and Pete Downings, the latter having spent an anxious period of waiting in the room with his lover Randy when our properties had been attacked by raiders. Now that the Palace was Gustav's, I did not want to involve my secretary, even though I trusted him fully with my own affairs.
I finally found the security company's documents in my safe, among paper debris from my first months in Dahra. Having put them into an envelope for Gustav, I sorted through the rest, to see if there was anything I could throw away. That is how a folder fell into my hands, on which were written, in fluid Arabian letters, the words `Aziz al-Aziz.'
Sitting down at my desk, I opened the folder of my head of household, the first slave I had bought in Dahra, after having accepted seven others as gifts. Is it possible to review someone else's life in a couple of hours? If anything comes close to it, that is what I did. I closed the folder. I closed my eyes. And wondered.
What had been achieved so far since Aziz's manumission? And -- when I had requested the Sheik to sign his Declaration of Freedom, for whose benefit had I done it?
Aziz was now a director of the Buddy Foundation, just as I had planned. He was the Master in his own house. He had his own slaves, who were loyal to him and respected him. He had a position of authority in my Palace that corresponded to his formidable talents.
Was he my employee? I thought about the doctors, Yves, Cal, and Nacho. Was Aziz, now a freeman, just like them? He was free to go where he wished.
Can one eliminate a lifetime of slavery with a golden fountain pen? Aziz had his life and status inside my properties. What did he know of the world beyond?
I put the folder of the former slave Aziz al-Aziz back into the safe for the moment, and took Gustav's papers to the Aloe Palace.
The next day found me in the capital city inside one of the more exclusive travel agencies. After scouring a whole heap of catalogues, the travel agent across from me began showing slight signs of strain, but I paid no heed to her. When one chooses something for the very first holiday of a lifetime, one is allowed to be a little picky, right?
What finally caught my eye was a glossy brochure of ocean voyages, with a page showing the Seychelles Empress on one of her Indian Ocean voyages.
'It takes a month and two days for the trip,' the agent commented. `The cruise is from Bahrain, down to the Seychelles, on to Mauritius, back up by the Maldive Islands and back to Bahrain. Very distinguished, if I may say so.'
`Excellent. I will get back to you for the booking. It is not for me, but for a friend.'
The travel agent handed me her business card to go with the brochure and said that she would be delighted to be of further assistance.
`I have a further request. Do you have any contacts to agencies for interpreters?'
`We do indeed. There are always requests coming in from hotels and foreign companies. English, I suppose?'
`Well, actually...Yes, English will be fine.'
`Here you are. Would you like me to call them myself?'
`If you would be so kind. I would like to meet one of their best people as soon as possible.'
This is how, just an hour and a half later, I was seated in yet another office, face to face with a Dahran in his early twenties, dressed in a light European suit, with two bowls of fragrant steaming tea between us. He had introduced himself as Asad Al-Sidrah. His ready smile and dark glinting eyes conveyed an openness of manner and a humorous spark that immediately spurred my hopes on. If ever anyone exuded versatility and a readiness to cope with the unexpected, it should be him. The fact that his English sounded better than mine almost made me regret that I had no intention of hiring him as an interpreter.
Much as I generally loathe anything remotely resembling a job interview, in Asad Al-Sidrah's case I experienced none of the discomfort I usually feel during such odious tasks -- another point in his favour.
`Asad, I would like to hire you to accompany a good friend of mine on a holiday trip which, if he accepts the offer, would take about a month's time. It is a cruise on the Indian Ocean, and my friend needs the professional services of someone like yourself. Would you be interested?'
`A cruise, for a month? Certainly, sir. There are no appointments I could not easily transfer to my colleagues at the agency. Your friend is English?'
`Actually, now comes the difficult part. My friend is not English, and if he needs an interpreter, it is not in the conventional sense of the word. You have, no doubt, in the course of various assignments used your tact dealing with the ignorance of us foreigners not just in matters of language. I don't know how many times you must have drawn somebody's attention to the fact that they should not offend others by stretching out the soles of their feet towards them? Or not to take food or anything else with the left hand? Or not to beckon anyone with the forefinger?'
Asad Al-Sidrah grinned.
`Yes, sir, I see what you mean. Countless times, I can assure you. My favourites are reminding them not to ask their business partners about their wives and female relatives, and not to praise any of their host's material belongings, if they don't want to end up with them as a gift.'
I laughed, remembering my readily forgiven faux pas during my early encounters with my friend Tariq al-Akhri.
`What are the most frequent questions you are asked?'
`A number of things, generally about how to avoid getting into trouble with the law. And where they can consume alcohol discreetly. That is, if they are not already checked into one of the international hotels.'
He smiled at me again.
`My friend is not a foreigner, but he is still a foreigner to all countries, including his own. He is a citizen of Dahra like you and was awarded his citizenship by His Excellency himself. He is, I would guess, about twice your age, and has spent almost his entire lifetime as a slave. Until his freedom, he had been my head of household at my country estate here in Dahra. He is still in my employ as head of my household, and what I would really like to achieve with your help is facilitate his encounter with the world that lies without. Well, and that he enjoys the trip of course, which will be his first ever.'
Asad Al-Sidrah had nodded several times during my recital.
This is an unusual request, sir. I shall be happy to accept and be at your friend's disposal for absolutely any help and explanations he needs. I did not grow up in a household with slaves myself. One of my best friends did, though, and I can just imagine some of the difficulties... Do I need money for this? How do I ask someone to get this for me? What does one do on a holiday?!' Oh my. At least, on a ship, we can't lose each other.'
`Yes, you see what I mean. You can begin by travelling in a car, which he is not totally unfamiliar with any more, and then move on to the tough stuff: airplanes and cruise ships. And please remember: I don't just want you to push the elevator buttons for him. I want you to show him how he can push them himself!'
`I understand, sir. It will be my pleasure. This will be my first job on which I can speak Arabic all the time!'
`Actually, my friend speaks very good English, too. It will probably depend on in whose company you spend time on the boat, so don't count on it yet. Thank you very much, Asad. We shall get back to you once I have put the whole idea before him.'
Aziz, when baited with the cruise ship brochure, surprised me by choosing a stateroom for thirty thousand euro and throwing in two servants provided by the company. He absolutely refused any offer from my side to pay for his holiday myself.
'I shall have to pay for the trip and shall need some money for the journey if I have expenses, but it says that all is included in this option, only the servants will be extra,' and with that he produced a cheque book which showed a cash balance of just under four hundred fifty thousand euro.
I made a quick calculation and realised that in two entire years, Aziz had furnished his residence and maintained his staff on less than fifty thousand euro. Now that was some sort of economic miracle that not even ministers of finance can do! I knew that Aziz's only income was his yearly honorarium from the Buddy Foundation of quarter of a million.
'But I have to make arrangements about the Palace here, Jonathan, and my own household.'
'Aziz, forget about the Lime Palace. I have Pete Downings at a loose end now that Gustav has his Swedes at the Aloe Palace. You have no arrangements of importance to make. Yedo will look after your household. When you come back, we shall have to draw you up a proper work contract like the one for the doctors, if that is alright by you or if that is what you want? This year, I went to the travel agency on your behalf, but for your annual holidays in the future you will wish to choose for yourself. I have one more thing here, Aziz, that I should have given you a long time ago.'
And I produced his personal slave folder which I had received with his purchase from Abdou al-Akhri.
`It is yours, maybe you would like to keep it, or read it, or just throw it away.'
Aziz looked at the folder containing his documents, then looked up and gave me one of his rare smiles.
`Thank you, Jonathan. I shall keep it. I shall read it, too. It will turn my thoughts to the past, and then back again to the present and future. But not now. Now I have to wonder what one needs to pack for a voyage on the -- what did it say? -- on the Indian Ocean.'
So it was to be. Aziz booked his holiday. Pete Downings would take interim charge of the Lime Palace for him and Yedo would look after his residence. His meeting with Asad Al-Sidrah was an amiable one, the Dahran interpreter cheerfully promising to cope with absolutely any questions or unfamiliar situations that might arise, and Aziz afterwards insisting that he would pay for his `interpreter' himself.
I had Aziz transfer a hundred thousand euro to the Bursar of the Seychelles Empress for any cash purchases he might want to make on his holiday, though he said he could think of none.
'Souvenirs, Aziz?'
'What are souvenirs, Jonathan?'
'I think you will find out when you go ashore and visit these marvellous places you are going to see.'
As Aziz al-Aziz was going to be an innocent abroad, I personally rang the Bursar of the cruise liner and explained that His Excellency did not normally travel abroad and would be on board for the month of February, that he would have a very discreet and trustworthy servant with him at all times, plus the two provided by the company, and that I had had His Excellency transfer one hundred thousand as pocket money for the month. I also ordered the Bursar to ring me personally, if anything at all happened out of the ordinary. The Bursar confirmed that he had seen the transfer arrive and he promised to contact me without fail as instructed.
End of Chapter 15
To be continued . . .