This is the fifth chapter ex twenty two of a novel
-- The Dahran Rebuttals - about present day slavery and gay sex.
The Dahran trilogies to-date are composedof 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 5--The assumption of inconsequence
If human relationships and business economics were physics, it would be much, much easier to explain. My predecessor in the orders of chivalry, Sir Isaac Newton, summed it up admirably in his third law of motion, `Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.'
There you have it, neat and tidy. You could argue it equally as well by saying that as freemen and slaves are all part of the physical equation, each one of our actions has an equal and opposite reaction somewhere along the chain of human and social events.
However, when you apply this rule to illogical humanity, emotive individuals, shameless politicians and craven governments, as the song says `it ain't necessarily so.'
My good friend and the general Manager at Deckams in Dahra, Gustav Ahlson, over a period of twenty odd years ended up owning twenty five Swedish slaves (well, twenty four surviving ones to be precise, as one died of natural causes).
His government was in on the deal from the start--funding, supporting, even conferring the title of a Swedish Count on Gustav--and while well-disposed to helping its fellow citizens, who had fallen one way or another in physical slavery in the Sheikdom of Dahra, that series of actions was carried out with an assumption of inconsequence.
Gustav Ahlson for almost twenty years chained himself in property terms to his residence in Dahra, never leaving the country, forgoing advancement at the Bank and almost ruining his health.
My arrival on the scene allowed him to transfer on a more or less permanently rotating basis some twenty one of those slaves to the Aloe Palace and then to the Lime Palace, my present residence.
Though these slaves were highly intelligent and well-educated men, they never impinged in their slavery on the life of the Palace to seek advancement or positions for themselves, nor accepted any form of assistant overseership, but rather placed themselves at my overseers' disposal both in the farms and in the Palace itself.
The only one of them, who did not rotate back to Gustav's home outside the capital city was young Thor, who was our ophthalmologist Nacho Cuesta's assistant and the hero-worshipping lover of Andy McTee--the English teacher whom he regarded as some form of father figure.
When I need to think I go and get myself a massage. Vitali Belov is my masseur and his fingers work a magic that is hard to find in any one else. As I lay on one of the massage tables by the pool, half-drifting in and out of contented relaxation, Vitali would massage and knead a muscle until it had yielded up all its kinks and knots and twisted internalities.
`Master, what have you been doing to your back? It is a mass of knots....Master, your shoulders are a disgrace.....'
Vitali is like a barber always with a stream of comments and I would murmur in reply `Do your best, Vitali...' and sink back into floating on fleecy white clouds.
As I say I think best when I am relaxed and a massage followed by a swim or sauna does the trick.
I was still drifting when I heard Vitali say something but did not hear it properly.
`What....?'
`Master, my new assistant is going to work on your legs,' he repeated.
I looked over my shoulder with one eye and saw a nervous looking medium sized but compact slave in his early thirties rubbing oil on the palms of his hands.
`What is your name?'
`Klaas, Master. It will be an honour to massage your legs, Master.'
I looked at the slave with one eye. I remembered that he was Flemish... No, he was Dutch!
`Klaas, forget about the honour and just massage my legs.'
His initial touches and strokes would have been more appropriate if done by a Netherlander housewife handling her Dresden china.
`Are you trying to tickle me, Klaas, or give me a massage?'
I heard a hand smacking a backside. Vitali had the problem in hand and I found the slave's hand pressed firmly into my flesh.
The splashing of other slaves swimming in the pool receded into the background and again I began to float on clouds as now four hands worked the cardinal points of my body.
I wondered how politicians had concluded that the likes of Klaas, who had been jailed in error for crimes he never committed, would be better off in a desert country halfway round the world as a slave. It was not logical, but some governments are definitely not that, but seek a solution to problems in a blame-free environment.
`Turn over, Master, please.'
Klaas's voice was somewhere in the distance. I did not move.
`Vitali, I think he is asleep. What do I do?'
I played possum.
Vitali's voice came in saying `Get more oil on your hands and concentrate on the Master's buttocks.'
I drifted off again and wondered if the removal of Klaas from a Dutch jail had really improved the European situation on miscarriages of justice. His transfer to Dahra may have eased consciences and may have created an extra space in a jail, but had never addressed the system which allowed an innocent man be sent to jail.
I felt hands over my lower back and down my inner thighs. I floated a little more. A finger had stroked one of my balls. At least, I think it was a finger. There it was again. The cheeks of my backside were being separated. There was something cool on them. It was smooth and viscous. A body oil. Ah!, Klaas do you know that your fingers have just touched my most intimate of passages as they moved over my flesh? I do think that you know you have touched my butt-hole.
Inconsequence at social levels always ends in tears. I just hoped that the sending of prisoner-slaves to Dahra did not end likewise. Inconsequence at human levels leads to eyes being closed to the realities of the times. Again, I just hoped that such insincerity did not visit itself up my Palaces in Dahra.
There were fingers making small circles on the sides of the cheeks of my buttocks. Vitali's were on my neck and I know his touch. The other fingers had to be those of Klaas, the flower grower. Yes, I was beginning to remember some more details of his background. He had grown flowers, tulips and bulbs. Something about drugs in bags of compost. The son of a junior minister in the government. Yes, that was it. Some sort of set-up. Not even his father had been able to save him. A fall guy had been needed and my backside masseur had fit the bill somehow.
I could have lain there for another couple of hours, but I had correspondence to work on with Ben Trant, my secretary.
The massage table was too good, but I thought I had better get a move on. Again the Swedes came into mind. I had asked myself for a while why more Swedish slaves were not lifted to fill what was clearly a market in Dahra, but they simply were not targeted as a nationality.
However, when no Swedish slaves arrived on the Dahran slave-markets for over three years, it was clear that other procedures had been put in place by the Swedish government to ensure that Swedes did not end up as slaves. What those procedures were is not known to me and maybe one day I would find out from Gustav Ahlson, who has always been very coy on the issue when I have obliquely hinted at it to him.
I did, however, feel that Fiona Tuttle's buying any Scottish slaves to be found in Dahra might create a vacuum in the slave market, or even promote the lifting of more Scottish slaves. She had started this practice, first by buying thirteen slaves and then within the last year, a single Scottish-born slave, who came through al-Mera. The slave-dealer merely notified her of the arrival much as a florist would of a new bloom, but had done nothing to promote or aid his lifting.
Enough. I had better get a move on and do some work!
`Klaas, you're good. Not as good as Vitali, but good.'
`Thank you, Master.'
I was sitting on the side of the massage table, flexing my toes in the air.
`Vitali has taught you well. A bit different to growing bulbs, eh?'
The slave looked at me and swallowed.
`Yes, Master, very different.'
`Do you like working with Vitali, or would you prefer to work on the farms growing things?
He looked at me and was working the words in his mind before he replied.
`I prefer to work, Master, with Vitali if I can. But he is now very busy.'
Vitali had been chosen by Frank Kovacs, the overseer in charge of teaching sex techniques to the slaves as one of his two assistants.
`And why not the farms?'
`Because, Master, growing things was what I did in Holland and it would remind me of my previous life. Now I learn a new work in my new home.'
`You think of Dahra as your home now.'
`Yes, Master, the overseers have explained I never to go back. So, Dahra is now my home.'
`Vitali, you have just been demoted. Klaas is now my new masseur. You had better teach him all those little tricks of yours.'
Yes, Master,' Vitali replied with a grin, it has been fun making you jump all those times,' and he gestured with his right elbow which usually manipulated my spine.
Klaas was looking at both of us, not knowing what was serious and what was not. I thought him a bit phlegmatic, but at the same time, I knew that we would get on like a house on fire.
Those who own slaves own them because they want to. It is as simple or as complex as that. The reasons why they own the slaves are as difficult to fathom as life itself. The how and the where are very Dahran. The rest of the categories are very human.
These thoughts assailed me again when I was having dinner with Jack and Fiona one evening in their dining-room at the Aloe Palace.
The dinner was quite simple comprised an avocado vinaigrette, followed by melt-in-the-mouth slices of lightly braised veal with basmati rice and champignons au beurre.
`Who is doing the cooking here today?' I asked.
`Tonight, it is Harb for the main courses and Narciso for the pudding,' Fiona replied.
`They take turns,' explained Jack.
`I must compliment them. They have come on in leaps and bounds since the first bowl of fruit they both prepared for me.'
Jack nodded to Beno, who had been serving the table and he went to get the cooks. As he was going out, Vedel came in with baby Jason in a sheaf of white baby clothes, ready for bed.
Both Jack and Fiona gave the baby a kiss, before he was displayed to me and he was whisked off by his male slave nanny.
Jack and Fiona saw me looking at the departing Vedel and Fiona said, `There is nothing quite like a Roma gypsy to look after children. Beno does the mornings and Vedel the afternoons and evenings.'
Jack added with a smile, `at times, I barely get a look in with those two and I am the father!'
`And how are your own slaves, Fiona?'
`Jonathan, they are well. Very well. It may sound strange, but I love owning them, simply knowing that by having them here, they are mine. When I have been out practising Arabic all day, you can not imagine how much I enjoy returning home. Dahra is a beautiful country and I am learning to love its people like I think you and Jack do. But it is as I expected--sometimes, I get these pangs of homesickness. Then I go outside and talk to my slaves, or when I am really tired, I sit in the gardens where they are working, close my eyes and just listen to them. It is like a short trip to Scotland and back. I suppose I am contributing to the world slave trade in that their previous owners have now bought other slaves. That is the logical outcome, as I see it.'
I didn't know how to argue with Fiona on that!
Talking of slaves,' Fiona said, Andy McTee is still very happy he says to continue teaching English at the Lime Palace and he still has Thor as his partner. They seem devoted to each other.'
`I think you might at some stage talk with Gustav Ahlson, Fiona, when I have him over for dinner, if you want to have Thor here at the Aloe Palace on a nightly basis. The Swedes tend to stick together on a lot of things which I suppose is not a bad thing.'
`Talking of Gustav and dinner, Uncle Jonathan, he invited Fiona and myself to dinner at his place next week. Gustav said that he was going to invite you, but you had already left for the day.'
That was one for the books. Although almost three years in Dahra, Gustav had never invited me for dinner at his home which is about three miles outside the capital, yet now he had invited Jack and Fiona.
Narciso and Harb arrived in from the kitchens wearing white aprons but otherwise naked. Different folks have different strokes and Fiona had apparently insisted on `safety wear' in the kitchens when cooking was in progress.
My original thought when I first saw these two slaves was they were almost like brothers and again the thought struck me. They were very alike though one was Lebanese and the other Portuguese.
`Harb, your menu this evening has been superb. That veal was truly excellent.' I said.
`Thank you, Master. We are glad you have enjoyed it,' he smiled looking at Narciso.
`So what's for dessert, Narciso?' I asked.
`Crème caramel, Master which Master Jack likes.'
`Is that so?' and not the only thing he likes I can say, I thought to myself.
The two went back into the kitchens, naked to the rear, with only the ribbon of the apron around their waists--quite an erotic sight and a Dahran version of the French soubrette. I saw Jack looking at Harb's buttocks as he exited.
Jack walked me back to the Lime Palace when dinner was over. It was a beautiful night and Dumi Bod, my farm Manager, has put torches along the road every fifty yards which are lighted any evening that one of us uses the road, when not in a car or sand-buggy.
`So, you are getting on well with your slaves, Jack. All four of them by the looks of it.'
`They keep me in shape, Jonathan. Vedel is quite a good tennis player now. Beno, not as good. And at the weekends, I take a good sauna with both Narciso and Harb. I find there is no need to be preferential with either and they are very attentive to my needs. They are buddies, not only in the kitchens, you know.'
I had guessed as much, but had not known.
It turned out that a note from Gustav Ahlson was on my desk at the Bank the following morning, inviting me to dinner on the same evening as Fiona and Jack.
All our actions have consequences and it is to me, at least, quite clear that to assume they don't have consequences is erroneous.
I arranged `guided tours' as I called them for the new slaves of both the Aloe and Lime Palaces, when they first arrived at the Lemon Palace, having it explained to them, that they were also to have sports facilities built for them just as at the other two Palaces. It is not that they are allowed to wander round, but they are shown what will in time be available to them also.
All of the new slaves always asked about the slaves on the water-wheels. There were usually about five or six at any one stage now that the `raiders' had been pardoned and the slaves, who had worked least in the minds of their overseers in any week were put on the water-wheels for two days. The only difference to the former slaves was that they were not chained to the water-wheel but simply ordered not to leave the area.
What really affected most of those, who were punished in this way, was that no one was allowed speak to them at all for the day, or the two days of their punishment. This surprised me, as I thought a bit of peace and quiet would be a welcome thought to most people. But apparently, with so few physical possessions the slaves valued the friendship of other slaves and their buddies' attentions at night.
What also left the water-wheel slaves on edge was that their gold necklace was taken off them and their overseer had to agree to have it restored to them after seeing a marked change in attitude or performance.
One thing that is very clear in life is that we all have different values. What is important to me as a Master may well be totally unknown to a slave. What is quite important to a slave may be trivial to me as a Master.
A second thing is very clear in life and it is that when you have little or nothing to hold on to that little or nothing becomes very important to you.
This explains to me, at least, how two slaves can live for each other's happiness--that is not to say that their primary care and worry is not my happiness as a Master, but I have seen it time and time again, where two slaves like the two layabouts Mamoud and Mehmed, or two trainers like Greg and Jess, or Food and Drink, would be in perfect harmony, friendship, companionship and partnership which , to my way of thinking, is the foundation of love.
But the more I think about it, the more I believe that our actions, even the most trivial, have consequences and to assume that there is an inconsequence to our actions is false. This was made clear to me in the most horrible of ways.
Rather than go in two cars to dinner to Gustav's, I said Jess Tollman could drive us in the Rolls. In that way, Faisal, my normal driver would be undisturbed for the evening. And so it was.
I arrived in plenty of time at the Aloe Palace to pick up Fiona and Jack, kiss baby Jason in his basket of whites and listen to Fiona's joint and several instructions to Beno and Vedel, who were both going to do the babysitting. She left her cell phone with them coded to ring a single number--Jack's--in the event of any emergency. Neither Beno nor Vedel are very electronic minded. Baths and stuff are fine, but not mobile phones.
As both our homes are on the same side of the capital city, the drive to Gustav's took just over forty minutes along the almost traffic-free West Road. I had never been to Gustav's home which he has staffed with four or five of his Swedish slaves, the other twenty or twenty one being on rotation at the Aloe and Lime Palaces.
His home, on about four or so hectares, almost ten acres, was a dilapidated property which he had bought with some money left to him by an uncle in a will and Gustav, being good with his hands, had done it up to his own taste. This was before the arrival of his slaves.
Gustav met us on the steps of his home. It was a large rambling, whitewashed property which apparently had a bit of a chequered history in its previous ownerships. With a veranda which surrounded it on three sides, what struck me immediately was its seclusion--it was surrounded by a ten-foot wall around its two and a half thousand foot perimeter.
The second thing to strike me was the perfume. On driving up to the front entrance, we were in the middle of a perfumed garden, an oasis of flowers and plants, the least of which were some glorious wisteria chinensis, in a riot of delicate shades of purples, mauves and lilacs. It was not only an olfactory delight, it was a visual one to boot.
Gustav was a delightful host and was assisted more than served by his five Swedish slaves on rota back to his home, whom I noticed wore khaki shorts in the house.
I had never enquired about Gustav's domestic arrangements other than knowing that one of the Swedes, Björn, who was not there that night, was his lover of many years. However, he did let slip, if that is the word, that the Swedes and he ate at his home as a family all sitting down at the same table and all living under the one roof.
The status of the Swedes as slaves therefore did not exist at his home and only came into being every Sunday morning, when a transit van came to collect the five and exchange them for a different five at the Lime Palace, when the `freemen' became slaves for the following month, serving me and my overseers at the Palaces.
While I recognised and knew the slaves who were there, none sat down with us at table, but two acted as very efficient waiters for the evening.
Gustav was genial and engaging. I really only knew his professional side at the bank, but as a host, he was a marvellous raconteur of stories and jokes.
At one stage, we were distracted by water-sprays coming on outside.
`We have a well at the bottom of the vegetable gardens from which we take thirty cubic meters of water a day which is just enough for a property this size, with the amount of gardens and vegetables we have. We spray then for two hours late in the evening, or at night and the batteries recharge during the day.'
`Gustav, you are very efficient,' Fiona said looking over at Jack.
How did you manage,' I asked, with twenty what people living here?'
`Well, twenty four in the last years. The family just built up and up as new members arrived. Upstairs, we have fifteen double bedrooms, though some admittedly are rather small for two persons.'
`And energy?' I asked.
`The entire roof was ingeniously transformed by Eric and Olaf into overlapping solar panels which give more than enough energy. They took off all the tiles on the roof and, in their place, put in panel after panel of solar cells.'
After dinner, Gustav invited us to walk in the gardens which had been watered. The perfume of the moist plants was almost over-powering and we looked down the gardens as the spraying moved on from one section to the next.
`It's all computerised. Björn did that some years back, when we put in the piping under the vegetable beds,' Gustav informed us, with what I thought was a touch of personal pride at the work of his lover.
Gustav was about to show us the small twenty-five metre swimming pool they had built, when Rossini's Wilhelm Tell Overture sounded on Jack's cell phone. Fiona was immediately up beside him.
When she saw the look on his face, trying to listen in on what was being said at the other end, she realised as we all did that something was wrong.
`Hold on. Hold on,' Jack shouted into the phone.
`It's Andy McTee. He says, one of the new slaves has kidnapped baby Jason and taken the Lincoln,' Jack said, his face white.
Fiona grabbed the phone.
`Is baby Jason all right?' she literally screamed into the mouthpiece.
Fiona turned to me and said, `the slave hit Vedel over the head and took Jason, jumped the car and is heading towards the capital city.'
I took the phone from her shaking hand and spoke with Andy McTee to confirm that it was only one slave.
Andy said that Beno, who had been in the kitchen warming a bottle, had seen only one slave and had run after the `new slave' as he was calling him, as soon as he heard Vedel's shout and saw him falling to the ground, but he was not able to stop the car.
`Boss, Vedel is seriously hurt. He has a massive head wound. There is blood everywhere. I'll have to run and get the Doctor. Everyone else is all right here. Beno says the car turned east down the West Road heading towards the capital city.'
`Get the Doctor for Vedel. We're on our way back.'
Gustav had signalled one of his Swedes who had told Jess to have the Rolls ready to go that there was an emergency back at the Aloe Palace.
As we ran to the Rolls, I was dialling the emergency police number which answered on the third ring. I immediately asked for the Capitan of Police for the West Road district whom I had met on a number of occasions.
I was the last one getting into the Rolls at the front steps of the house, when the Captain was on the other end of the phone.
`Sir Jonathan, good evening.'
`I believe I have a runaway slave, Captain, who has just taken my nephew's baby--Jason Tuttle--from the Aloe Palace.'
`Yes, Sir Jonathan, I was notified some minutes ago of a pulse outside the five mile central radius of the Lime Palace. Is the baby okay?'
`As far as I know, yes. A slave has injured another who was looking after the child, took the child, took the Lincoln Continental belonging to my nephew and was last seen heading east on the West Road.'
`Yes, Sir Jonathan, I can see that the pulse is travelling at over sixty miles an hour towards us--we are out on patrol at this time of night--and the car should reach us in about ten minutes. Do you wish to stay on the line, or can I call you back?'
`I'll stay on the line.'
Cupping my hand over the mouthpiece, I filled Jack and Fiona in on what the Captain had said.
`Sir Jonathan, are you still there?'
`Yes, I am.'
`We have a set procedure for such situations. When our jeeps get moving, I will not be able to talk to you, until the car has been stopped and the slave has been restrained. You understand? But as soon as everything is calm which should be in some minutes, I will be back online to you.'
`I understand. That is fine.'
The Police Captain subsequently filled me in on the detail. The West Road, once the capital city has been left, has no turn-offs, for almost forty miles, except for entrances into properties. It is literally a rising and falling straight road with desert or farms on either side of it.
The police procedure was simply one of putting two unmanned jeeps across the road which meant that all vehicles travelling the road, would either have to stop or go onto the sand of the desert. Cars without four-wheel drives and/or special tyres would not make it past two hundred years of desert sands. A Lincoln Continental for all its style and elegance would be useless on the desert surface and could only attempt to ram the two blocking jeeps, stop, or turn to go back.
The route back would be blocked by a further two jeeps coming in from the desert, one from each side of the road, effectively boxing in the escaping vehicle.
Simple plans are very often the best and this one worked. The slave driving the Lincoln seeing the jeeps ahead of him stopped and was immediately boxed in, surrounded by armed police.
`Sir Jonathan, the baby is safe. We have just arrested the slave.'
I shouted out the news and Jack and Fiona hugged each other in the back of the Rolls as we sped west.
`No one is hurt, Captain. Your men are okay.'
`Yes, Sir Jonathan, no one was hurt. The slave just sat in the car with his head on the steering wheel, until he was arrested.'
`How far are you from the capital city, Captain? We are now heading towards you.'
`Roughly, twenty two miles.'
Jess Tollman was doing close on seventy as we sped west. There was little traffic going west and nothing coming east. The eastern flow had obviously been interrupted with the blocking of the road.
It took us a further five minutes to arrive and I think that those five minutes were some of the longest that any of us had lived through in a long, long time.
Suddenly, there were cars coming towards us. The traffic flow had resumed and then, there were lights on our side of the hard shoulder and between two of the vehicles, a bundle of white being walked up and down by a police officer.
Fiona was out of the Rolls almost before Jess could bring it to a halt and running toward her child being in the arms of the police officer.
I have never seen the Police Captain anything but calm and calm he was as usual that night.
`Sir Jonathan, happy to see you. We have the baby safe and we have your slave in custody.'
`Captain, I don't know how to thank you. My mind is in turmoil. I cannot understand how this has happened. Thank heavens the child is safe.'
`He was asleep on the floor of the car in front of the passenger seat. He is still asleep.'
With that, there was a baby's cry.
`My mistake, Sir Jonathan, he was asleep.'
I looked over at Fiona, who was hugging baby Jason.
`Where is the slave who took the child? He also hurt badly one of the slaves at the Palace in kidnapping the baby.'
`Come with me, Sir Jonathan.'
The Police Captain led me to the last jeep, where in the back there was a slave I did not recognise. I looked at the slave. He glanced up at me, but would not hold my angry gaze.
The slave was dressed in a cream shirt and a pair of worn jeans. There was nothing on his feet and looking at his right ankle, I saw a GPS bracelet.
`I don't know this slave. Are you sure that he is not from somewhere else?'
The Captain pulled a notepad from the front of the jeep.
`Madar Sicsou, French Algerian, arrived in Dahra seven weeks ago to al-Mera, transferred to the Lemon Palace five weeks ago. He has one testicle.'
The Captain recited off the facts as if they were a menu. The slave was mine. He was one of the EU prisoner-slaves. He would have just completed his training in the compounds. Some training! Such arrogance on my part believing that the compounds would break every slave! Such arrogance of mine and I had almost paid for it with the life of Jack and Fiona's baby, to say nothing of Vedel's injuries whatever they were.
The Captain was speaking to me. I had not been listening.
`I am sorry, Captain, can you repeat that? My mind is still in shock.'
`Do you wish to handle this yourself, Sir Jonathan, or do you wish the courts to handle it, the day after tomorrow. We may be too late for tomorrow's sessions by the time we get to the capital city.'
Dahra's justice system is twenty fours from the capture of the criminal to his trial. I found myself wondering laterally if police cells were ever slept in by criminals.
`Captain, I shall handle this, if you can have one of your jeeps deliver this slave back to the Lime Palace and one of your officers drive the Lincoln back after us. I would be afraid to ask my nephew to drive it tonight, with the fright that he has had.'
`No problem on either matter. We shall lodge our report that the matter is a now civil one.'
`What about the kidnapping?'
`There was no kidnapping, Sir Jonathan. There was the attempted theft of a child. Only a person can kidnap in Dahran law. A slave is not a person. Therefore there can be no kidnapping.'
I stood looking at the Captain, as we stood on the hard shoulder of the road. I remembered in time to close my open mouth. Dahran law, even after three years, takes some getting used to.
`When are you and your men due to get off duty, Captain?'
`This shift is on night duty all this week, until six o'clock in the morning and then we do not have to report back until six o'clock in the evening.'
`Captain, would you and your men then do me the honour of dining with me next week on a suitable evening?'
`Indeed, Sir Jonathan, it will be our pleasure.'
`You have no objection if I write a letter of thanks to His Excellency, the Minister for the Interior?'
`None whatsoever, Sir Jonathan, none whatsoever.'
Once we had sat down in the car and taken off, Fiona had said `I think this is urgent' and taken the crying Jason to her breast, after which he had promptly fallen asleep again. I dropped Fiona and Jack back at the Aloe Palace.
It was after midnight that we got back to the Palaces.
The Lime Palace was ablaze with lights. Aziz, my Head of Household , was waiting on the veranda.
`Master, is the child all right?'
`Yes, Aziz, he is fine. He was hungry but all right. Who was injured tonight?'
`Vedel is still unconscious. He was hit with one of the short spades from the farm. The Doctor stopped the flow of blood and has operated on him to repair the damage to the skull. It does not look good. Beno was hit a glancing blow by the car as it left, but is okay. Bruised but okay.'
`Who is this slave who has done this to us?'
`He was in the last batch to finish training in the compounds of the Lemon Palace.'
`Mirzan and Vaz are most upset. Komil is upset. All the trainers are upset. They were up here until about an hour ago.'
`Where is the slave now?'
`Securely chained in a cell.'
`Good. Something is definite at least. Have all the overseers, not the assistant overseers, just the overseers of the Lemon Palace join me for dinner tomorrow evening, I mean today, at eight o'clock.'
`Yes, Jonathan.'
`Thank you, Aziz, for staying up. A bad night's work, indeed. A bad night's work.'
One of the nice things about Dahra is the silence of the nights and the diaphanous clarity of the skies. From the veranda, I looked up at the patterns of the constellations in the pure black sky. They say locally that from the Dahran desert you can see beyond the stars. If all things could only be as clear as the stars seen from the deserts of Dahra!
When I got to my bedroom suite, I found Komil sitting up for me and on a blanket on the floor, huddled together the two Slovak twins, whom I had purchased for a fortune in a moment of madness. They stirred when they heard me coming in and Komil greeting me and asked how I was.
When I have had to think over issues, I get a couple of foot-warmer' slaves, as I call them, into bed with me, lie down in the middle of the bed between them and simply ask What sex techniques have you learned to please a tired Master?'
While it normally is such a delight just to lie back and let the sexual enthusiasm of others get to work, I thought it better just to rest tonight.
Denny, or was it Danny, asked, `Master, the baby is okay?' as they both came to undress me.
`Yes, the baby is okay. Tonight, I am too tired to do anything. I just want to sleep.'
Yes, Master,' they both replied in unison, we will just keep your feet warm.'
The last thought I had was that maybe the two Slovaks were not so bad after all their annoyance of the farm slaves. I started to think of something to say to Komil, but the darkness of sleep descended and the next thing I knew was that the morning sun was streaming through the windows. The twins were asleep, one on either side of me, their feet intertwined over and through my legs and as I peered across one of them and over the side of the bed, I saw Komil on the floor half covered with a blanket, dead to the world.
The previous night's memory of Madar Sicsou came into my mind and I put it aside in the same instant. My day deserved to start better than with the thought of such a slave, but I had a duty as Master to protect my own house. I also had the duty of protecting Jack and his family who were effectively my guests. I also had a duty to all my other slaves who could not be endangered by the criminal activities of one single slave.
It is strange how you can think more clearly in the morning and I resolved on my only course of action which would fully redeem the situation. I placed a call to the Police Captain and having listened to my request, he said that he would arrange everything for the following morning. I asked him what the fee would be and why was I not surprised to find that it was a public service in Dahra. Once the matter was decided upon in my mind, I felt that I had put in motion the right course of action.
End of Chapter 5
To be continued . . .