The Contest

The Contest


Now once Scheherazad saw what El Barruke was up to, she really began to smolder. It was clear that her cousin was making snide comments in an attempt to undermine Dunazad's credibility; to make her look inept in the eyes of everyone and make the King look like an old fool. For the King had appointed Dunazad a security advisor who was supposed to provide a fresh and independent set of eyes and see if there were any "loopholes" in the Palace Security Plan. Actually she was helping Scheherazad find out what was happening to the King's wives, who were allegedly being beheaded and the advisor job was never intended to be more than a cover for surveilling Omar, the executioner.

The more Scheherazad thought about the situation, the angrier she became. Her cousin had poured salt on an old wound and ignited a dark energy. The power this generated began coursing through her veins and animated every pore and fiber. The strength of her mind became fully energized and she focused it like a magnifying glass pinpointed on a single purpose. Revenge! And what began to percolate in the dungeon of her soul was a retribution so diabolically clever that it would forever become the high water mark for the settling up of old scores. It became her signature of a new presence behind the throne and a warning for anyone, to think twice before crossing her path. And so she began pacing about with a nervous frenzy, pulling together the plan for getting even with her cousin. The first thing she did was send for her sister and bring her up to date.

"El Barruke is casting dispursions upon you," she related, "and making insinuations that are embarrassing the King."

"Like what?" Dunazad asked.

"That you are a stupid girl, and that the King was a fool to trust you!"

This angered Dunazad and she said, "I'm going to go to our cousin and give him a piece of my mind!"

Scheherazad answered, "No, don't do that. Instead, lets take some of the wind out of his sails. Let's show the King that his faith in you is justified."

Her sister was puzzled. "And how are we going to do that?"

Scheherazad answered, "What we are going to do is demonstrate to everyone that you have found a "loophole" in the Security Plan."

"That will not be easy," Dunazad replied. "Our cousin's plan is a good one and his preparations have been thorough. His guards are well trained and he has instilled in them a strong motivation and attention to detail. A mouse could not enter the compound without his knowledge."

"You give him more credit than he deserves!"

"No I don't," she responded, "He is an inspiration to his men and they admire him. He has a keen and incisive mind and a charisma that makes his subordinates work hard. And when he finds one worthy, the soldier cherishes the recognition and takes pride in the honor, and all his men strive to be accorded his notice. And it's not just the soldiers; the women too, seek ways to attract his attention, for he is handsome and unmarried and the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom."

Scheherazad answered, "He is a rascal and a rogue. I am going to see him humbled."

This talk made Dunazad shudder. She knew what her sister was capable of. She had seen how Scheherazad behaved when confronted with the mildest expression of displeasure and did not want to think about what might happen if she ever became truly annoyed.

Dunazad looked to heaven, "Allah have mercy on El Barruke, for he is in big trouble."

Scheherazad continued, "I could forgive my dislike for him, but I will not abide him speaking ill of you and the mischief he does to the King."

"Finding a loophole in security will not be easy."

Scheherazad answered, "Don't you realize that you have already found one? What remains is how we intend to exploit it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about it. Every morning when you and the Blackamoor come up to the palace with your cart and disguise, you are penetrating the security."

"I suppose you could say that."

"Now we must take the next step."

"Which is?"

"I want you to take a bow and arrow and conceal it in the coal shed by the Guard House."

"There is no way we could get a bow and arrow through the security. They check and double check the cart before we enter. Then they look us over pretty good and sometimes even search the Moor's body."

"They missed the dye pot under Omar's Cart."

"Nobody is going to check him too closely, plus the security is much tighter on the coming in than the going out."

"Wait a minute, isn't there an archery tournament coming up in two days?"

"Yes,it's held every year," answered Dunazad, " It's only the biggest event of the season. If you didn't spend all your time in the archives you would know it well."

"I'm not unaware, plus the herald has been announcing it for the past week." Suddenly a thought came to her mind; it was like the missing piece of a puzzle falling into place.

"Do you still have your bow and arrows? I remember you used to go around shooting them all the time."

"Yes,I still have them," she replied, "and I know what you're thinking?"

"Do you now?"

"You want me to enter the competition."

"Yes."

Dunazad shook her head, "While I have some skill, at the closer ranges, there is no way I can match the strength and skill of the men. Close up maybe, further back, not a chance."

Scheherazad answered, "Who cares about that? Just show up with your bowl and arrows. Go ahead and participate for awhile. Then when everyone else is diverted take and hide them inside the shed; such as they are concealed but can be quickly retrieved."

Dunanzad scratched her head. "I think I could do that, but the real question is, will they even allow a woman to participate?"

"You are not any woman," Scheherazad admonished, "you are the King's security advisor. If they say no, then make a tantrum in front of everyone. Then make threats to take the matter before the King."

"As you wish," said Dunazad, "but first, there's the matter of tomorrow. At dawn we will once again take up the trail of our friend, Omar."

"Have you finished the new dispensing pot?"

"We have, and it should give us twice the range."

"Let me know immediately if you find out anything."

"I doubt that we will get back before the gate closes."

"Don't be taking any chances."

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to me as long as the Moor is around."

"Good, now go and get some rest," said Scheherazad, "the next two days will be hectic."

After Dunazad left, her sister was all keyed up and decided to take a walk around the palace. At length she came to the kitchen and began checking to see how the cleaning was coming. As she was nosing about, Omar rounded the corner and they almost collided.

"Good day, My Lady," he said.

"And to you too Omar," she replied.

"Are you planning to attend the archery competition?", asked Omar.

"Indeed," she answered, "Will you be shooting?"

"I used to be quite an archer, but my day has passed."

"You are too modest," she answered with a smile.

With that the executioner bowed and took his leave. Picking up the slop bucket he headed off in the direction of the Guard House. There was something about this scene which did not resonate in her mind but Scheherazad was so focused on other matters that she dismissed it and went about her way.

Early the next morning the screams of the King's wife could be heard throughout the palace as she was taken to the block. Under the cover of darkness, Mohamad attached the new dispenser. Shortly thereafter, Omar walked out with the body, threw it in the cart and mounting the seat, departed through the archway. At the roadblock the guards waved him through and after about a mile he looked back and seeing no one, said,

"You can come out now."

A figure stirred inside the shroud and a small hand pushed back the flap.

"It's safe now; you can come up and sit next to me on the seat."

The young girl crawled out and stepping over the seat sat down next to him.

"Why did you spare me?" she asked.

"Because I could not bear to kill so beautiful and innocent a girl," he answered.

"You risked much for my sake and I will forever be in your debt."

"Not forever," he replied, "now put this shawl about your shoulders and the hood over your head. The veil too. No one must recognize you, or suspect the mercy I have shown, at great personnal risk to myself."

With the shawl about her shoulders Omar reached around beneath it and putting his arm around her back began to fondle her breast. She stiffened and pulled away from him.

"Why you ingrate," he chided, "If that's the way you intend to act then we can just turn this cart around and go back to the palace."

He drew back on the reins and made as if to turn the cart around.

"No! Please," she pleaded. "Not that, I will do anything, but please don't take me back."

"That's better," said Omar, "now scoot closer and show me a little more gratitude."

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Scheherazad, was up early with the dawn. As she rounded a corner to the the kitchen she stumbled over a bucket that had been left next to the door.

"What is this doing here?" she demanded loudly.

One of the cooks helpers ran out to her and seeing it there, replied,

"Why that's Omar's bucket, he usually leaves it inside, over by the stove. I don't know what it's doing out here."

"I could have broken my neck!" she answered, with her hand on her throat.

At that instant a blinding flash of awareness came upon her mind. "Great Allah, " she declared, "how could I have been so blind?"

"It was dark," said the helper.

Dunazad and the Blackamoor followed shortly thereafter, at a discreet distance. When the road block lifted they followed at a leisurely pace for some hours. Well past noon the trail was still easy to follow and led them towards the Euphrates river. As they approached, they saw the ferry dock in the distance. Dunazad told the Moor,

"Hire those urchins over there to watch the cart while we proceed on foot to get a closer look."

Taking off their disguises they began walking casually until they came to the bank where a host of carts, people and animals were waiting to cross. Across the river Dunazad saw the ferry being polled towards them. Getting closer she saw Omar seated on his cart and next to him sat a figure with a canvas shawl. Dunazad was intrigued and walked closer until she could hear Omar talking with the docking man. She listened as they made conversation.

"So good to see you again,Omar," said the river man. "What have you there with you?"

"Oh, it's just another God Daughter of the King. I'm taking her to the Summer Palace."

"You aren't planning to make any unscheduled stops are you?"

"Just doing my job," he answered.

Dunazad was shocked! Slowly it began to dawn on her what was happening. She crept around to the front and there beneath the canvas she saw a pair of veiled eyes that were unmistakable. They were the same ones she had seen that very morning; staring from a head that was supposed to have been decapitated. When she saw this she returned to Mohamad.

"Come quickly," she said, "I have learned much. Let us make haste and return to the palace."

When they arrived back at the cart, Dunazad could hardly contain her excitement.

"What is it?" asked the moor.

Dunazad began clapping her hands and jumping about. It was all she could do to hold her baldder and keep from peeing in the road. She laughed loud and long while her eyes sparkled.

"I know a secret, I know a secret," she chanted.

"What is it?" asked the Moor.

"Can I trust you Mohamad?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"Of course you can," he answered, exhasperated, "what is it?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to be nice to me?"

"I am your's to command."

"The King's dead wife was sitting next to Omar in the cart, only she wasn't dead!"

"Do not joke with me."

"This is no joke, I swear to you, I saw her eyes beneath the veil. The very same eyes we saw this morning, wild with fear as they dragged her into the dungeon."

"What is going on here?"

"I heard Omar tell the Ferryman, he was taking her to the Summer Palace, that she was a God Daughter of the King. Can you believe it?"

"Most puzzling," he answered. "Come, we must hurry if we expect to get back before the gates are closed."

"We are already too late for that, but have no fear; I told my sister we might be delayed and to not wait for us."

So it was that when they arrived back in the city, the market was deserted and the palace gate closed for the night. Parking the cart they realized they would have to sleep in the market stall. And so they changed out of their disguises as was their custom.

When this was done Dunazad walked over to the Moor, put her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. Long and deep did her tongue probe as she slipped it in and out. His thick black lips suckled it and he held his head back as she teased and explored the underside of his palate. When she withdrew it she felt the eagerness of his own, reciprocating her desire, forcing its way between her lips and probing inside her mouth as she had done his. They kissed one another for some time and as their passions grew they pressed their bodies close against each other.

After awhile he laid her down on a blanket amid the straw. His hands untied her halter and her breasts spilled out. These he began to nuzzle with his lips. She felt his excitement grow as his breath came faster, and from his nostrils she felt the snorting of his broad nose moving between her bosoms. This was a very pleasant and enjoyable sensation and she felt again the quickening excitement of emotions that were both unfamiliar and pleasurable. His foreplay kindled a carnal desire that spread over her with a warm glow. Then the Moor removed her girdle and unwrapped his own. She felt his thighs begin spreading her legs and his eagerness beginning to uncoil. At this point Dunazad said,

"Forget it, Mohamad. There is no way I'm going to let you poke that big thing into me, as I can see you're intending to do. I will not have it written that I died skewered on the manspear of a Blackamoor with my crotch torn asunder."

"Exactly what would you have me do?" he asked with the slightest hint of frustration.

"Roll over on your back," she answered, "and let me see how I can accomodate that monstrosity."

And so he rolled onto on his back and she took his girth in her hand and began kissing the head. As she did, it became ever larger and began throbbing in her grasp. With a hopeless sigh she took a deep breath and squatted over it. Pulling up on the length she began working the tip into her vagina. She groaned, and strained and spread herself to the fullness of her ability and still could not manage his entry. Her efforts were a torment to the Moor and the touch of her tested his restraint to the limits of his will. When he could bear it no more he took her by the hips and as her opening stretched, he raised up with his buttocks. Her response was immediate and she rebuked him, crying out,

"Stop that! and don't try it again. Your expect the impossible. I will never be able to do it if you don't lay still and let me do the work. Spitting on her hands she took it once more and began trying to twist it into her. It was to no avail. She was unable to open herself wide enough for the girth. At lenght, she became frustrated and said in exasperation,

"Enough of this, I know what we need, we need some olive oil."

So she climbed off and he groaned because he was aroused and had expected her to give him the relief a woman provides. Seeing no hope for that, he breathed deeply and with a great exercise of will, applied his strength to the outrage of his passions. Slowly his desire began to subside. As it did she crawled up under his arm and he covered her with the blanket.

"Please don't be mad at me," she said, "I did the best I could. Be patient. With more exercise and some oil, I promise to do better next time."

"Anything will be an improvement," said Mohamad.

The next morning they awoke and went to the palace. There, preparations for the competition were well under way. Dunazad went immediately and presented herself as a competitor and as she expected, her eligibility was questioned because she was a woman. This was no more than she anticipated and began working herself into a mood for throwing a tantrum.

El Barruke was at first tempted to deny her petition but then something occurred to him that made him change his mind. Since he knew there was no way a young girl could advance very far, he decided to make an exception of her, since she was the King's "Security Advisor." He reasoned that her failure to measure up with the other competitors would demonstrate to everyone how women were ill suited for a man's work. That as her reputation was further undermined, the King would quietly push her into the background and try and forget the whole affair. So for the first time that anyone could remember, a woman was allowed to compete. However, her presence was not what caught the imagination of the spectators. It was the presence of the Blackamoor, with the largest bow they had ever seen.

The first hour was devoted to getting ready. As Dunazad practiced, the Moor stood next to her leaning on his bow.

"Aren't you going to warm up?" she asked.

"I'm not cold," he answered.

"I expect you to shoot well. Everybody is watching and I will need you to divert attention and give me the opportunity I need."

"Have no fear for my part," the Moor replied, "but tell me what are you up to?"

"My sister wants to give a lesson to our cousin, the Captain of the Guard. He is undermining me as the security advisor by smirking and making insinuations about the King's choice."

"What kind of lesson does she have in mind?"

"Don't concern yourself with that Mohamad, It will be revealed soon enough."

Then the heralds signaled the start and the competition began. In the first round Dunazad did well. In the second, to no ones great surprise, she was eliminated. What did surprise everyone was the consummate skill of the Blackamoor. With effortless grace his arrows twanged from his bow and with unerring accuracy, always struck the center of the target.

As the distance was moved further and further back he addressed the mark with a quiet confidence that bespoke an unquestioning faith in his ability. At length there were only two that remained, and these two stood at the far end of the courtyard, next to the coal shed. One was the Lieutenant of the King's guard and the other was the Blackamoor. As the last round began, the moor gave a casual glance at Dunazad standing next to the shed. The lieutenant stepped to the mark and with all his strength shot his arrow. It whistled through the air in a slow arching trajectory, striking the bull's eye slightly below the center. The crowd applauded and the Lieutenant looked over at the Moor, with satisfaction on his face. The Moor stepped up and took a pinch of dirt and threw it into the air. Then he stroked his jaw and turned his neck from side to side. The attention of everyone was riveted upon him as he drew the great bow to its fullest and cut loose his arrow. A gasp came from the crowd as it streaked across the courtyard, with only the slightest arc, and hit the target dead center. In the midst of all this, Dunazad put her bow and arrow into the hiding place.