The Prince of Earth by Mike Robinson is taking longer to finish than I expected (it would help if I actually read on a consistent basis) so this week I'll be dusting off an old review of "The Fourth Queen" by Debbie Taylor. This was probably my first real adventure in Historical Fiction and it remains one of my favourite stories.
Inspired by true stories of 18th-century kidnappings, debut novelist Taylor
produces an imaginative and bawdy romp through the harem of the emperor of
Morocco. Young Helen Gloag, bound from Scotland to the colonies in 1769, is
captured by pirates and brought to the slave markets of Tangiers. There, she is
purchased for the emperor's harem by the dwarf Microphilus, who procures and
manages the hundreds of women selected as royal chattel. Instantly smitten with
Helen's pale skin and red hair, Microphilus conceals his passion for her as she
learns to make her way in the languorous-and competitive-world of the harem.
Initially at a loss in terms of language and culture, she is dismissed by the
emperor; under the tutelage of Queen Batoom (the first of the emperor's four
wives), she eventually charms him and is soon his favorite. But with favoritism
comes danger: one of the other queens has succumbed to a mysterious wasting
illness, and when Helen is chosen as the emperor's fourth wife, it appears that
she is also doomed. Instrumental in unraveling the mystery is Microphilus,
who-having long been Queen Batoom's secret lover-eventually becomes close to Helen as well, as
the two take comfort in remembering their shared homeland. Alternating between
third-person sections from Helen's perspective and entries in Microphilus's
diary, Taylor conjures up the shimmering exoticism of the emperor's court. Most
notable is the concentration on fleshy exuberance (the emperor's women must be
fat, and nearly all of them, including Helen, become giddy with sex in their
forced idleness). Amid all the rolling rumps and alliterative saucy sex talk,
Taylor manages to tell a highly unusual and satisfying love story.
