"What a lovely low voice," Fatima marveled.

"All right," a large Oriental woman said listlessly, "he's no countertenor, but all I'm hearing is volume."

"Sure," someone else said, "n.o.body ever put no one in trouble with just noise."

The women seemed skeptical, ready to leave, when Fatima thrust herself forward again. "Ladies, ladies," she said. "And aren't I as far from home as any of you? And don't I know from experience the difference between coiled rope and taut? Just because I'm a slave and not some fine lady-in-waiting like the rest, do you think I've lost memory, senses and all the kit and caboodle of my normal nature and ain't able to distinguish between capons and roosters? And haven't I been around these castratos long enough to know what I'm talking about? Ain't they just about all I got to look at on this d.a.m.n desert island? Can't I recognize from one sight-see of their crotch when they sit, no more shape down there than a cloudless sky, that n.o.body's home, that their wounds, if they even are are wounds anymore, are all sealed like empty envelopes, shiny and slippery as scars, hairless as gemstone, smooth as fat? And ain't I even been flashed by a few of these sports, their limp machinery dangling like busted thumb and no more flexed than buds in snow, just all broke, shriveled retrograde flesh like old folks' skin? wounds anymore, are all sealed like empty envelopes, shiny and slippery as scars, hairless as gemstone, smooth as fat? And ain't I even been flashed by a few of these sports, their limp machinery dangling like busted thumb and no more flexed than buds in snow, just all broke, shriveled retrograde flesh like old folks' skin?

"Didn't I tell tell you? Didn't you you? Didn't you hear hear him? When has a eunuch commanded such growl? Or are your ears accommodate only to the higher registers, the piggy squeals and sharp shrills of all noise's unbailed din? But didn't you feel these very marble floors vibrate? And if your ears don't tell you, what about your eyes? Look, just look." She stepped beside Mills and touched the planes of his face, raised his shirt and pointed out his ribs. "See? See how sleek? Look at his sharpish elbows, feel his pointy knees. There are angles to this one, some hard geometry of maleness." She touched the front of his pants and, pinching an imaginary inch between her fingers, made as if to trace the length of his c.o.c.k. Terrified, Mills was not unstirred as she drew her hand slowly up the inside of his thigh. "There's l.u.s.t and longitude to him," she said, and, cupping his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, started to squeeze. "Bags and bones." him? When has a eunuch commanded such growl? Or are your ears accommodate only to the higher registers, the piggy squeals and sharp shrills of all noise's unbailed din? But didn't you feel these very marble floors vibrate? And if your ears don't tell you, what about your eyes? Look, just look." She stepped beside Mills and touched the planes of his face, raised his shirt and pointed out his ribs. "See? See how sleek? Look at his sharpish elbows, feel his pointy knees. There are angles to this one, some hard geometry of maleness." She touched the front of his pants and, pinching an imaginary inch between her fingers, made as if to trace the length of his c.o.c.k. Terrified, Mills was not unstirred as she drew her hand slowly up the inside of his thigh. "There's l.u.s.t and longitude to him," she said, and, cupping his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, started to squeeze. "Bags and bones."

Mills winced and tried to pull away. The women, impressed, watching closely, gasped at his pain. They spoke aloud, shocked by his distress into their original tongues. (Because he knew two languages now. No, three. English, Janissary, and Harem.) Fatima released him and stood by his side, showing him off like an accomplishment, flourishing for him like a lesser acrobat. Suddenly she went into a sort of incantation, sounding nothing at all like the clownish woman who had spoken to him in the laundry. "Because there are some men like paradigms," she intoned, "their manhood burned into them like brands in cattle. Concupiscent, prurient, bawdy boys with heated hearts never cooled to room temperature." And was speaking to him now, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Flirts," she said, "philanderers, rakes and rips. Randy as pirates, ruttish as goats. Skittish as scarlet and wicked as wanton, filthy as folly and scabrous as s.m.u.t. Lawless libidos, loose and licentious. Gross and coa.r.s.e. Dissolute. Dirt. Salacious seducers, carnal as meat. Naughty as nasty and vulgar as vile." She reached out to touch him and shook her head, signaling him not to cry out or back away.

Fatima begins to stroke him. "Filth and defilement, lickerish l.u.s.t. Wh.o.r.emonger, wencher, womaner, wolf. Satyr and ravisher, f.u.c.ker and lech. Steam and steam the stews of the heart. Who keeps the knock shop and flaws the flesh. You rapist. You ruiner. You wrecker, you lewd. They pulled off your b.a.l.l.s, but they grew back like hair. Like nails they grew back, healed as young skin or second-growth teeth." His trousers swell where she strokes him and the superst.i.tious concubines look on in awe, silenced. Abruptly Fatima withdraws her hand, and Mills whines helplessly.

"Well," she said, "there you are, my mistresses. What do you say to old Fatima now?"

They said nothing and continued to stare at George, not so much fearful as fascinated, almost, he thinks, devout.

"Because some men," Fatima explained, "have itch and need so powerful they can't be scratched, even by the Sultan or the Sultan's surgeons, the Sultan's men. Cutting don't do no good. You'd have to kill them to drop their erection. They spoke of this back home but until Mills came I didn't believe it, had never seen it. I still don't understand how it works, but maybe the erection is inside, inside, starting at the bellyb.u.t.ton, say, or the high erogenous zones, the skin at his nipples, the roof of his mouth. You can't burn it out or cut it out, because all that happens when you try is that the need grows downward, falling toward earth, closing on the very dirt and filth you tried to keep it from when you trimmed the hedge by clipping it in the first place. starting at the bellyb.u.t.ton, say, or the high erogenous zones, the skin at his nipples, the roof of his mouth. You can't burn it out or cut it out, because all that happens when you try is that the need grows downward, falling toward earth, closing on the very dirt and filth you tried to keep it from when you trimmed the hedge by clipping it in the first place.

"Anyhow, that's how some account for it, though maybe it's just pride and will and determination, and Mills here ain't no more manly than those other eunuchs, only more set in his ways. I don't know," she said, "I don't know. But I don't have to, do I? I told you about him and even worked out with Lady Givnora how best to get him here and prove my claims, and I think it's just mean and shameful if you don't give me my treat like you promised."

All the odd power Mills had sensed in the woman seemed suddenly to have deserted her and she was only Fatima again, a woman too old to have to do any of this, too old to have to hold his b.a.l.l.s in her hand.

The Royal Princess who had brought him put a heavy arm around Fatima's shoulder. "Now, Fatima," she said, "of course you'll get your treat." And she put a hand inside her robe and brought something out which Mills thought he recognized. She instructed the other women to do the same.

"Oh, thank thank you, my lady!" Fatima said and hurriedly pressed pieces of the you, my lady!" Fatima said and hurriedly pressed pieces of the halvah halvah they had given her into her mouth. "Oh they had given her into her mouth. "Oh thank thank you," she said again, her lips flecked with flaking candy. "Mnn," she said, "it's delicious." The overweight women seemed indifferent to her enjoyment. you," she said again, her lips flecked with flaking candy. "Mnn," she said, "it's delicious." The overweight women seemed indifferent to her enjoyment.

The seraglio was overstaffed. There was little to do. When he finished his work in the laundry, usually in the early afternoon, he was through for the day. He could return to the dormitory, talk to the eunuchs or, like Bufesqueu, chat up the slave girls.

By his own admission Bufesqueu wasn't getting anything off them. They seemed, he said, frightened to have s.e.x with him.

"They're scared of the eunuchs," he explained. "Listen," he said, "could I borrow some of your bribegold?"

"Why not," George said, "what's there to spend it on?"

"I'll be d.a.m.ned," Bufesqueu said when he returned it a few days later. "I never saw anything like it. The sons of b.i.t.c.hes are incorruptible."

"Which sons of b.i.t.c.hes?"

"The eunuch sons of b.i.t.c.hes. I tried to pay them off, maybe they could get lost for an hour or two, but they weren't having it. Listen," he said, "could I have some of that back again? I ain't ever paid for it yet, but there's just so much a man can take."

He's the one, George thought, not me. He's the one whose hard-on starts up around his ears.

"Here," Bufesqueu said, returning the bribegold a second time. "I added this to my own but the sons of b.i.t.c.hes are absolutely absolutely incorruptible." incorruptible."

"The eunuchs," George said.

"No, man, the slave girls."

"Hey," Bufesqueu said another time, "can I hit you up once more? I think I found a live one."

"Sure," George said, "why not? You always pay your debts."

Bufesqueu had a broad smile on his face when he returned that night to the dormitory. "It was terrific," Bufesqueu said. "I won't say it didn't hurt to put out the dough, but after all this time it was worth it."

"Eunuch or slave girl?" George asked.

"Slave lady, lady, man. Slave woman, slave man. Slave woman, slave grandma. grandma. It was that old broad, Fatima." It was that old broad, Fatima."

Mills hadn't told Bufesqueu about his experience in the harem. He didn't want to be needled. In his his place, Bufesqueu would have said, if he'd had place, Bufesqueu would have said, if he'd had his his opportunities ... opportunities ...

"Fatima?" George said. "Wasn't she surprised to find out that, you know, you still have your b.a.l.l.s?"

"The way I I went at her? I think she was surprised I only have two." went at her? I think she was surprised I only have two."

"She didn't want to show you off?"

"Show me off? Maybe. If the wh.o.r.e could charge money."

"Hey," Bufesqueu said a day or two later, "I may have to borrow more of that bribegold."

Which he was willing to let him have though Bufesqueu could not have said what use Fatima could have made of money.

They lived, all of them, in a closed shop. Only the Chief Eunuch was free to come and go as he pleased. Even the guards at the gate, though Bufesqueu and Mills were so preoccupied at the time neither had noticed, were shackled and attached by long chains to the gates they guarded. A harem girl might leave the grounds of the seraglio but only to go to the Sultan's bedroom and she had to be escorted there by a eunuch through a pa.s.sageway that led from the Valide Sultan's house to Yildiz Palace.

So not only was it a closed shop, it was also a sealed one.

Though they had the run of the grounds now and could go almost anywhere they wished. Mills liked to hang about the extensive stables. With the Chief Eunuch's permission he was sometimes allowed to exercise the horses and, on occasion, even to hitch them up to the elaborate, exotic vehicles he had only read about until now.

But with no one actually to drive for, soon even this diversion lost its appeal. As everything did. He no longer dreamed his cabby dreams, no longer often thought about England. If he regretted anything it was that he might not live to get a son to whom, like the Millses before him, he could tell the story he continued to live and even, in private now, to rehea.r.s.e. Bufesqueu he had told it to long ago, telling him all, telling him everything, bringing his tale up to the time their lives had begun to coalesce and willing to go over even that part of their history, if only for practice, had only Bufesqueu been willing to listen, Mills reserving to himself only that part of the story which dealt with his trip to the harem. He realized now it was not the fear of a scolding that caused him to withhold this incident from his friend-the man had taught him much, saved his life, George owed him; of course course he could have his bribegold-but that if it ever got out, and too many people already knew-Mills dreaded another summons to the interdicted harem-he would be castrated. Then, even if he lived, there could be no son. His tale would go untold. And what a tale, he thought. Kings and sultans had shaken him down, royal princesses, slaves and high officers had. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Except his bachelorhood. Except his sonlessness. he could have his bribegold-but that if it ever got out, and too many people already knew-Mills dreaded another summons to the interdicted harem-he would be castrated. Then, even if he lived, there could be no son. His tale would go untold. And what a tale, he thought. Kings and sultans had shaken him down, royal princesses, slaves and high officers had. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Except his bachelorhood. Except his sonlessness.

For his part Bufesqueu continued to go to Fatima, returning one night and tossing the remains of George's double portion of bribegold down on the cot.

"What's the matter?" Mills asked.

"I'm saving you money," Bufesqueu said. "If I ask for more bribegold don't give it to me."

"What's the matter, what's wrong?"

"I didn't mind that she was old," Bufesqueu said bitterly. "I didn't even mind that I was paying for it. But I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll pay out any more of your hard-earned blood money bribegold to some old wh.o.r.e who's too fat to f.u.c.k back."

"Fatima?"

"You could hitch her to one of those carriages you get such a kick out of. Though I don't think she'd move."

"Fatima?"

"You said it, Fatima. Fat- Fat- ima ima."

"Fatima?"

"What's wrong with you, Mills? They run out of nuts to cut on around here? They started on eardrums now too?"

"Fatima's not fat."

"No? You seen her lately? You could rupture yourself holding her hand."

"Where do you get it?" George demanded. "The harem girls?"

"Get what? Take your hands off me. What do you think this is?"

"Where do you get it, Fatima? Who sells you the halvah? halvah?"

When he threatened to report her activities to the Kislar Agha, she confessed. Her supplier, she said, was Guzo Sanbanna.

"We could borrow equipment," Mills told his friend. "We could go down to that field and play soccer."

"No thanks, George, I don't think so. But you go if you want to." He was biting a fingernail, examining it.

"Suffi ben Packka's in hospital again. Maybe we ought to pay him a visit." Suffi was a eunuch whose wound had never healed properly.

"Jeez," Bufesqueu said, "the mood I'm in, the way I feel, I don't think I could cheer anyone up, even a eunuch."

Bufesqueu had become melancholic since he'd stopped seeing Fatima. He was nervous and listless at once.

"I could teach you to drive a team," Mills offered. "Hey, why don't I do that?"

"Thanks, George. I appreciate what you're trying to do but I don't think I could concentrate. Really, George, thanks."

"It's just that, you know, you shouldn't wallow."

"I'll be all right," Bufesqueu said. "I'm sorry I'm such bad company. I've got time on my hands." He forced a thin smile.

"Listen," Mills said, "I've still got the rest of my bribegold left. Maybe you should take it and, well, you know."

"No," Bufesqueu said. "Out of the question."

"No, not with Fatima. Somebody else."

"Who, man? Don't you think I tried? It's absolutely no go." He pulled a hair from his head and, using it like floss, tried to run it through his teeth. He set it down and looked at George. "You know," he said, "when she began to blow up like that, I thought maybe I'd knocked her up."

George nodded solemnly.

"But she's too old," Bufesqueu said.

Mills held his chin sagely.

"I even asked if she'd missed her period."

And raised an eyebrow.

"You know what she said?"

He shook his head.

"She hasn't had a period in five years."

"Well," Mills said, "that lets you off."

"It was the f.u.c.king," Bufesqueu said. "I f.u.c.ked her to fat."

"We could drop in on a cla.s.s," Mills said. "You know, not take it for credit. I don't think they'd object to auditors."

"I have this high-caloric j.i.s.m. Fatima must have told them. That's why they tell me I can shove my bribegold."

"All right," Mills said and watched his old pal, the flashy Janissary who had taken Constantinople and was eating his heart out, destroying himself. And he told him about the harem.

Bufesqueu was in seventh heaven again, happier than Mills had ever seen him. He raved about the girls and invited George along whenever he went for a visit.

"I can't," Mills said. "It's too dangerous."

"Listen," Bufesqueu said, "nothing happens. happens. They're running some Arabian Nights scam over there. But like I always say, 'In the country of the blind.' You've just got to be patient is all. They'll come round. But they're really charming. A little heavy, but what the h.e.l.l, right? They ask for you all the time, you know. You must really have charmed them. They still talk about that hard-on you had." They're running some Arabian Nights scam over there. But like I always say, 'In the country of the blind.' You've just got to be patient is all. They'll come round. But they're really charming. A little heavy, but what the h.e.l.l, right? They ask for you all the time, you know. You must really have charmed them. They still talk about that hard-on you had."

"He told us to watch our step. It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, well, you know what I think? This harem thing is an old business. I mean it's really an ancient inst.i.tution. Who'd think that in a civilized world such things could go on? I mean, really George, eunuchs? eunuchs? Concubines? Novices? Favorite ladies? I mean Concubines? Novices? Favorite ladies? I mean slaves, slaves, for G.o.d's sake! Or even sultans for that matter. I'll tell you the truth, George, I honestly think it's had its day. It was all very well when everyone rode around on a flying carpet, but in the nineteenth century? It's all but finished. They're all gone soft. All right, individually, individually they're incorruptible and won't give me a tumble, but as a group? As a group they're flawed as old Rome. How much more time can it possibly have? Fifty years? Sixty? These are the final days, George, and more especially the last nights, if you know what I mean. Just like the Janissaries. The last nights of the final days and I don't want to miss a minute of the outrageousness. I don't want to miss a second. Come on, Georgie, what do you say?" for G.o.d's sake! Or even sultans for that matter. I'll tell you the truth, George, I honestly think it's had its day. It was all very well when everyone rode around on a flying carpet, but in the nineteenth century? It's all but finished. They're all gone soft. All right, individually, individually they're incorruptible and won't give me a tumble, but as a group? As a group they're flawed as old Rome. How much more time can it possibly have? Fifty years? Sixty? These are the final days, George, and more especially the last nights, if you know what I mean. Just like the Janissaries. The last nights of the final days and I don't want to miss a minute of the outrageousness. I don't want to miss a second. Come on, Georgie, what do you say?"

"I've got a cla.s.s," Mills said.