Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  Eventually they passed down a long, tree-lined avenue with marble temples on both sides. At one point the litter bearers halted abruptly, and Danaë was irritated that they had to stop to allow a troop of Roman soldiers to pass. On land, as on sea, it seemed everyone had to give way to Rome. She caught a quick glimpse of a purple cape sweeping by and realized she had just caught a glimpse of the great Caesar himself. She wondered if he would meet the man who had entered Alexandria aboard the Blue Scarab.

  When the sound of tramping feet faded in the distance, the litter bearers continued down the wide avenue, where there were shops selling everything imaginable—silversmiths labored alongside leather craftsmen and goldsmiths. Turning down a side street, they passed through a teeming marketplace. The scent of flowers, spices, and fish mingled in a not-unpleasant aroma. The noise was almost deafening as hawkers called out to passersby and motioned for them to draw near. Danaë missed the quiet serenity of the villa, she met Minuhe’s gaze and suspected the other women was having similar thoughts.

  By the time they reached their destination, the sun was sinking low in the western sky. The bearers plodded through an arched gateway and down a stone walk, setting the litter down before the massive front door.

  Danaë wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this lovely home, hidden away from the city noise amid pathways that led to gardens she would love to explore. The house was white sandstone with a red-tiled roof, and much larger than she’d imagined.

  After they had settled in, Danaë insisted on walking in the gardens. The evening air was cool, and the gardens were peaceful after the long voyage.

  “I was not aware that Uriah had such wealth,” Danaë remarked as Minuhe dusted off a marble bench so they could be seated.

  Minuhe looked startled. “Uriah has no wealth of his own. He is your father’s slave, just as I am.”

  Danaë could feel her face redden with embarrassment because she had not known this. “I … nay. I never thought about it.” She was stunned. “I have always thought of you and Uriah as family.”

  Minuhe knew that her charge had been protected from the harsh realities of slavery by a father who had shown great tolerance to his slaves. “Nonetheless, we are slaves.”

  “Then this house—”

  “Belongs to our master, your father.” The statement was made without regret or bitterness. To Minuhe, it was just a fact of life.

  Danaë lowered her head. “In truth, Minuhe, I’m also one of my father’s slaves.”

  Minuhe could not deny it.

  Chapter Six

  Danaë went directly to bed, refusing even the delectable tidbits of nourishment with which Minuhe tried to tempt her. Danaë’s quarters had every comfort: The floors were of white marble, and so bright she could see her reflection in then, the bed had such soft linen sheeting, it almost felt like lying on a cloud. It was obvious that Uriah had instructed everyone to be attentive and to attempt to distract Danaë from her sorrow.

  She tossed and turned restlessly, though sleep eluded her. She touched her lips, remembering the feel of the Roman officer’s mouth on hers. Even now her stomach clenched, and she felt weak all over just thinking about him. She was haunted by his face and wished she could put him out of her mind. Not until the first morning breeze stirred the bed hangings did Danaë finally slip into a dreamless sleep.

  It was mid-morning when she was awakened by the sound of Minuhe instructing one of the servants to set up the mistress’s bath and lay out her clothing. A short time later, Danaë had bathed and dressed, wondering how she would fill the long hours that stretched ahead of her.

  She was accustomed to being active, and now she seemed to have no purpose.

  After Danaë had eaten her fill of honey cakes, a chilled mango, and a slice of goat cheese, Minuhe spoke. “Uriah has asked if he might speak with you this morning. He awaits you in the courtyard.”

  The first thing Danaë noticed when she stepped into the beautiful courtyard was the splendid splash of color from flowers of every hue known to man. Uriah had been pacing the flagstone walk and hurried in her direction when he saw she had arrived.

  “Lady Danaë, thank you for seeing me so promptly.”

  Danaë frowned at Uriah’s formal attitude and wondered at the reason for it. After her education had been completed and Uriah had been sent to Alexandria, she had missed him dreadfully and had always looked forward to his quarterly visits.

  As Uriah walked toward her, she noticed that his back was not as straight as it had once been. He was not a tall man, and his gray beard was the same color as his balding hair. Kindness softened his dark eyes as he smiled at her and swept her a bow.

  “Please make yourself comfortable.” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated she should be seated on the marble bench.

  “Have my cats been any trouble for you, good Uriah?”

  “Not in the least, lady. As your father’s instructions, I had had an enclosure built for them. And Tyi has his own large cage. The cats have been fed only cooked meat as Lord Mycerinus instructed, and they have a large space to roam about in.” He smiled. “I will admit the others of the household have been avoiding the back part of the garden where the cats have been penned.”

  Danaë knew that Obsidian would attack the cheetah if she had the chance. “You kept them separate?”

  He bowed. “As I was instructed.”

  She noted for the first time how tired he looked.

  “Will you not sit beside me, Uriah?”

  “If it pleases my lady, I prefer to stand. I have much to tell you.”

  “Then tell me while you are resting beside me,” she insisted.

  With a weary sigh, he dropped down onto the bench next to her. “I have sad tidings.”

  Her head dropped. “It’s my father, is it not?”

  “The messenger came but an hour before sunup. Your father did not live past the day you left the villa.”

  Hot tears scalded her eyes, and her body shook with emotion. “My dear father—what will the world be like without him in it?”

  Uriah did not attempt to stem her grieving, because he knew she loved his master well. He was shocked, however, when her head dropped onto his shoulder, and with a rough hand he wiped his tears away before his arms went around her, and he patted her back. Time passed, and the sun rose high in the sky before her trembling stopped and her crying ceased.

  At last she raised her head and looked at Uriah with tears still swimming in her eyes. “I wanted so much to stay at my father’s side, but he sent me away. It’s bitter to think of him passing from this world without me there to comfort him. It shouldn’t have happened in such a way.”

  The old man unashamedly wiped his tears away. “Bitter indeed for both of you.”

  Danaë regained her composure, knowing she would later grieve in seclusion. “Have arrangements been made for Father’s mummification?”

  “I am told that Harique arrived the evening of your departure and has taken the matter into his own hands. The messenger assured me the plans were going forward for a proper burial. Harique will do the right thing only because he will want to foster goodwill among his neighbors.”

  Pain stabbed at her. “Would that my father’s final journey could have been arranged by loving hands. My father’s nephew loved him not.

  “Is there any more news?” she inquired.

  “Only this.” He handed her a scroll.

  She looked curious. “Do you know what it is?”

  “As you can see, your father’s seal has not been broken. It was meant for your eyes alone. I do, however, have official documents that he charged to my care. I shall tell you about them as soon as you have read your father’s words.”

  It was difficult for Danaë to read the uneven ciphers caused by her father’s unsteady hand. Fresh tears flooded her eyes as she began to read:

  Dearest daughter, it was difficult to send you away, but you know in your heart I had no other recourse. I have giv
en into Uriah’s hands the official document that makes you legally my daughter. Be warned, this does not mean you should return here to the villa. My land and property in Alexandria I leave to you, and a good living that will make you a most respected lady. Look to Uriah for counsel. Know that no father ever loved a daughter more than I have loved you. Grieve not my passing, but celebrate the time we had together. Your proud and loving father.

  Before she could speak, Danaë had to clear her throat. Nothing, not even a legal document, could make her feel more her father’s daughter than she already did.

  With a sad gaze, Uriah waited for her to compose herself. She handed him the scroll and waited for him to read it.

  After a moment he raised his head and nodded. “This house and property are deeded to you. There is also a textile workshop here in the city that brings a handsome profit.”

  She shook her head and fought fresh tears. “Surely you know none of that matters to me.”

  “It will when you no longer grieve. One day you will understand that your father took great care for your future.”

  “We both know Harique will dispute any property rights my father has given me. He will want everything for himself.”

  “To do that, he must first petition the young king.” Uriah’s smile made crags along his jaw. “I believe you have a handsome gift for King Ptolemy meant to soften his heart to your plight.” His smile deepened. “Your father was a wise man—Harique is not so wise.”

  Danaë began to fully understand the reason her father had insisted that she present the cheetah to the king, and why he’d bequeathed the albino tiger skin to the High Priest of Isis. “Let us hope the gifts will bring about the results my father intended.” She frowned. “But what would happen if Queen Cleopatra took back her throne?”

  Uriah shrugged his shoulders. “A man could forfeit his life for voicing such thoughts, but Cleopatra has not the manpower to win against the armies of King Ptolemy. However, we now have a new player in the mix—who knows which way the mighty Caesar will jump?”

  “If Caesar throws his might into the fray and should decide to set the queen back on the throne of Egypt, the balance of power would shift,” she said.

  “Who can say what is in the Roman’s mind? As it is, let us hope King Ptolemy reacts to your gift the way your father predicted. But with this king you can never be sure what he will do—or so I’m told. Let us hope the High Priest of Isis will help us establish your identity. I’ve already asked for an audience on your behalf with King Ptolemy. I’ve let it be known that Lady Danaë, of the House of Sahure, has a priceless gift for him.”

  She placed her hand on his gnarled, blue-veined one. “How can I thank you, Uriah?”

  He stood, but not before she saw how pleased he was. “It’s been my honor to serve the noble House of Sahure.” He bowed his head. “I’m now pleased to serve you.”

  “Have you never craved your freedom? I ask this because I’ve lately had cause to think of myself as a slave.”

  The old man smiled. “Your father never made me feel like a slave. He always treated me as a treasured friend and allowed me to be the overseer of his house and lands. With Lord Mycerinus as my master, I had a better life than I would otherwise have had.”

  “You are free now that my father … dwells among the dead.”

  “Nay, lady. I now serve you.” He smiled with great affection. “I trust you will not deal too harshly with me.” Her gaze met his, and he could see the confusion reflected in her eyes. “It is as it should be,” he reminded her.

  “If I offered you freedom, would you take it?”

  “Yea, lady—I would.”

  “Would you leave me?”

  His brows met across his nose when he laughed. “Nay, lady. Where else could I go that I would have such an easy life and be made to feel that I am part of a family?”

  Danaë had been in Alexandria a mere six days when word came from the palace that King Ptolemy demanded she appear before him. Particular attention was paid to her appearance on that day. Danaë had soaked in perfumed water, and then oil of myrrh was rubbed into her skin. Golden beads had been threaded through her dark hair, and each time she turned her head there was a slight tinkling sound.

  Danaë stood before her beaten-brass mirror draped in a white silken gown that was gathered beneath her breasts, the hem resting just above her golden sandals. Making certain her mother’s pendant was tucked beneath the neck of her gown so it wouldn’t show, Danaë nodded for Minuhe to fasten a gold and turquoise collar about her neck.

  “I’m nervous,” Danaë admitted. “These new shoes are stiff and uncomfortable. If only I could wear my soft leather sandals.”

  “You must be grandly dressed for an audience at the palace,” Minuhe said in a shocked tone. “You would not wish to bring disgrace to the House of Sahure.”

  Danaë shook her head as she studied her reflection critically. “I look pale; do you think the king will notice?

  Minuhe smiled to herself, thinking how lovely her mistress was. “I do not think anyone will notice.”

  Chapter Seven

  Uriah assisted Lady Danaë into the litter while he climbed into the ox-driven cart that held the caged cat. As a precaution, and to keep the curious public from disturbing the cat, the cage had been covered with a large piece of linen. When they finally reached the outer palace wall, a guard halted them. Uriah presented to the man the proper documents embossed with the royal seal. After the cage was inspected, he waved them through the gate.

  Nothing could have prepared Danaë for the majestic fountains and gardens behind the walls. When they passed through a second gate, the beauty of the landscape took her breath away. There were a myriad of fountains tinkling like music while brightly colored flowers spilled over the walls and lined the marble walkways.

  Danaë felt her heart lurch and skip a beat when she stepped out of the litter and faced the wide, sweeping steps that led to the main part of the palace.

  She pressed her hand against her stomach, feeling so nervous she feared she was going to be ill.

  Uriah must have known what she was feeling because he patted her shoulder. “Have courage, child. Although I can go no farther with you, I’ll be waiting right here for your return. The king already knows who you are, and you will be welcome.”

  Uriah had explained to her that the palace was built in the Greek style, and she saw huge columned structures that reached skyward. There were many sections and buildings that she assumed held apartments, banqueting halls, and reception areas. If there was a more beautiful place in the land, she had yet to see it. In the distance she could hear the sound of harps and flutes blending sweetly.

  Danaë was still trembling as she climbed the black marble steps, hoping no one would notice how badly her hands shook. It seemed the sound of her footsteps echoed loudly against the marble walls of the corridors. When she reached her destination, a long line of people were ahead of her, each waiting his turn to see the king.

  She forgot her fear for the moment and became absorbed in studying the tall columns that supported the ceiling of the room; they were covered in hieroglyphs carved in gold. The ceilings swept upward to such a height, she was unable to decipher all the figures in the mosaic patterns. She stared at the tall bronze doors that led to the throne room, reading the hieroglyphs that proclaimed the Ptolemies the chosen of the gods and—

  “Lady Danaë, of the House of Sahure, oh, Mighty One,” a man in a blue and gold uniform called out, motioning her forward.

  Feeling as if a hundred butterflies were beating their wings inside her stomach, Danaë moved forward, and then stepped down the six steps that took her into the throne room. Silently she prayed she wouldn’t trip and disgrace herself before she reached the bottom. She halted at the base of the steps until a man waiting there motioned for her to follow him until he handed her over to the court scribe. The older man had bushy eyebrows, and for some reason, she kept staring at his ink-stained fingers.

>   There were other people in the audience chamber, some courtiers, and others who had come to seek the king’s wisdom. Danaë was aware she had become the center of their attention. She heard murmured voices speculating on her identity.

  The vivid colors of the courtiers’ clothing swirled about her like a kaleidoscope of patterns. Some were dressed in the traditional Egyptian linen, while others had chosen the Greek costume preferred by the Ptolemies. What drew her eye from the crowd was the huge golden cobra head that loomed upward and cast its shadow across the golden throne.

  Although Danaë had known the king was but fourteen years old, she was still unprepared for the small boy who was seated on a throne intended for a much larger and more imposing person. For some reason, he struck her as a tragic figure, and she felt a flash of pity for him. Dressed in white, he was bedecked in gold and jewels enough for ten people. His kohl-lined eyes made him look like a young boy playing at being an adult. She watched him move his head to converse with one of the men who stood to his right.

  “Declare your reason for seeking audience with King Ptolemy, Lady Danaë,” demanded a lavishly dressed man with a wide girth. By the description Uriah had given her, she knew the man to be the prime minister and eunuch, Parthanis. He had long, oily ringlets, and he wore an elaborate jeweled robe that was even finer than the one the king wore. It was rumored that the prime minister was the true ruler of Egypt. It was easy to see that he enjoyed gorging on food. Because he was a eunuch, his voice was high-pitched, and he apparently tried to compensate by speaking loudly. He looked somewhat grotesque because he was sweating profusely and the sweat had smeared streaks of kohl beneath his eyes.