One thing he must know, though, was whether Tilia had been telling him the truth. "Have you been hurt in any way?"
Rachel looked at him, looked away and sighed. How enormous her dark eyes were, Daoud thought, how soulful. Her stare made him uncomfortable, and he was thankful that she soon looked away. She kept on toying with the hem of her gown.
"Everyone has been very kind. You need not worry about people hurting me. After all, Messer David, you are a merchant, as my Angelo was, and you understand that goods must be kept in the best possible condition to obtain the best price. Everyone here understands that, too."
There was no mistaking the bitterness and despair in her voice. Had he felt any differently after the Turks captured him, raped him, beat him, and sold him in the slave market?
"You are being given the money you have earned?"
She nodded, not looking up. "My share is five hundred florins for each of his visits. And he gave me a purse of three hundred the first time. A bonus, because I was a virgin. Madama Tilia keeps it for me, but I am allowed to look at it and count it." She looked up suddenly and said earnestly, "I could not have fallen into better hands than Madama Tilia's." But there was a deadness in her eyes that belied what she said.
"We did not force you to give yourself to the Tartar," he burst out.
A light came into her eyes then, the fire of anger. "Thank you for reminding me that I became a whore of my own free will. Is that why you came to see me, Messer David? To tell me that this is all my own fault?" Her lips stretched in a ferocious grin. "Pay me enough and I will say anything you want to hear."
Rachel's eyes were fixed on his, and his on hers, and they stayed that way, frozen, until Daoud shut his eyes and slowly turned away.
He could not even think of a word to say in farewell. As he closed the door to her room behind him, his eyes burned and there was an aching heaviness in his chest. Remorse. He felt as if he had killed a child—two children. Not just Rachel, but the boy David who had always lived inside him. The pain was unbearable. He longed to escape it.