Captured For The Sultan’s Pleasure

Jamal watched as she was dragged off, her knees scraping the floor and her voice still pleading for the men he had already ordered their death. He wondered what type of woman she was not to care about her own life. Any other woman would be on her knees pleading and groveling for her life. Jamal knew flogging a woman thirty times is like offering death to the woman the hard way. If the flogging doesn’t kill her, her body would be marred for life. And a woman’s beauty is in the spotlessness of her body.

“Sultan, stop them. She’s just a woman and thirty strokes of the cane would kill her,” Sodeeq pleaded to Jamal.

“Choose then. Your men staying alive or her not getting flogged,” Jamal offered Sodeeq.

Sodeeq’s eyes widened at what the words implied. The sultan just gave him a chance to make a choice and that had never happened before. It was a pick one, leave one choice. If Roksolana got flogged, his men’s lives would be spared. But if he chose Roksolana instead, he would lose the best of his army. Was he ready to retain his men through such a cruel means? The Sultan was a hard man. But, this was the first time he ever gave anyone an option. Realizing that she was probably getting flogged already, Sodeeq prayed in his heart that the men carrying out the order would consider that Roksolana was a woman and be lenient to her.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Which would it be, general Sodeeq?” Jamal asked again.

“My men, Sultan,” Sodeeq answered.

“Good. But, they still need to be punished though.” The sultan told his general. Turning to the men still on their knees, he addressed them. “Each one of you, go and get thirty strokes each.”

“Yes, Sultan. Thank you, Sultan.” The men said, rushing away from Jamal before he would change his mind again.

“Sodeeq, stay here until the other ships arrive and make sure the men from Dar Sila are placed separately,” Jamal commanded.

“Yes, Sultan.”

“The rest of you dismiss with immediate effect.” He commanded. Then turn on his heels and walked away.

Roksolana became afraid as the men kept dragging her. She became surprised as they stooped once they were out of sight and helped her stand well. She noticed that they were no longer dragging her, but they let her walk at her own pace. Soon, they arrived at where Roksolana thought must be the famous flogging squad. The men that had escorted her lied her down gently on the plank, with her backside facing up. The men had also tied her body to the plank so that she wouldn’t be able to escape. Roksolana looked at the men and saw regrets fill their eyes, but couldn’t comprehend why they would have that expression.

“Thank you for standing up for our people even though your life was in danger.” The older man among them spoke.

“We still have to carry out the sultan’s order though. But we promise to be as gentle as we can.” Another added.

Roksolana braced herself for the beating she knew she couldn’t escape. As the first stoke landed, she felt a hot searing pain where the cane landed. With rapid succession, three more followed. Roksolana felt like crying out loud but refused to give that satisfaction to the cruel man who had ordered her beating. By the time twenty strokes had landed, Roksolana felt like life was being snuffed out of her. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she saw the soldiers coming towards them.