Zoe was shoved rudely forward by two soldiers, so roughly that she landed on her hands and knees in the dirt in front of Jebal’s gelding. She was naked.
Alex’s pulse pounded wildly. Her gaze lifted, and confused, she met Jebal’s regard.
His cold eyes pierced hers before he turned away.
Zoe stood, her lush body streaked with dirt and grime, her hair matted and disheveled, flowing to her hips. One side of her face was black and blue. There were bruises on her torso, her buttocks. She had been beaten, maybe whipped. Alex was sick.
“My lord, I beg you, forgive me! I knew not what I was doing! It will never happen again, please Allah, have mercy on my body and my soul!”
“Silence!” Jebal shouted. He bent and struck her with a riding whip, so harshly that Zoe screamed and fell to the ground, where she lay unmoving.
Alex’s instinct was to rush to her and help her. Instead, shaking now, she restrained herself. For she understood now, with utter clarity, what had happened. She was horrified.
The bashaw signaled the executioner.
Alex froze as Jovar was propelled to the block and pushed to his knees. His head was forced down. He was utterly pale beneath his sunburn, but he did not weep or beg. In fact, there was something strangely savage in his eyes—as if he had always known he would die a brutal death. Alex closed her eyes as the executioner lifted the scimitar. She heard a thump and the crowd’s triumphant roar.
Alex refused to open her eyes, panting and ill, enough so that she did not think she could prevent herself from vomiting, even though she hadn’t been able to eat in three entire days.
“Zohara!”
Alex jerked, facing Jebal.
His smile was twisted. “Jovar betrayed me with my wife. His fate would have been Blackwell’s had he not escaped. Look.”
Alex panted. “Please. I cannot.”
“Look!”
Her eyes filling with tears, which thankfully blurred her vision, Alex had no choice but to look at the decapitated man. Instantly she fell to her knees, her insides heaving, throwing up water and bile.
Jebal spat out a command.
Zoe screamed.
Alex jerked, her attention helplessly drawn to Zoe—who was being tied up hand and foot. “No,” Alex whispered, horrified.
Tears streamed down Zoe’s face. “Jebal, please. I beg your forgiveness, have mercy, dearest Allah the Great, help me, please, I love you, I am loyal to you, please, don’t do this!” She screamed hysterically. “Allah, my Lord, my savior, Allah the Great, spare me!”
Two soldiers appeared with a sack.
Alex was immobilized.
Zoe began to struggle, but the two guards easily lifted her and threw her into the huge burlap bag. The soldiers holding it tied the top closed with cords. The sides of the burlap rippled and bulged as Zoe tried uselessly to free herself, her screams, although muffled, shrill enough for all to hear.
This could not be happening, Alex managed to think.
Jebal rode forward. He gripped the top end of the sack and continued to ride toward the harbor, dragging his burden behind him. Zoe’s screams grew, as did her gruesome gyrations.
Alex leaned heavily on her nearest guard, unable to believe the monstrous spectacle she was witnessing.
At the edge of the wharf, very calmly, Jebal threw the sack containing his wife into the sea.
Again the crowd roared with approval.
For the second time in her life, Alex fainted.
38
