Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  Again drawing on the descriptions Uriah had given her, she judged the other man who hovered near the king to be Theodotus, the royal tutor. The teacher’s eyes were watchful and cunning as he leaned possessively toward the king. “The king does not speak Egyptian, young woman,” Theodotus announced. “Will you require an interpreter?”

  “Nay, sir. I speak Greek,” Danaë said, bowing low.

  “Then state your business.”

  Danaë dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “Most Gracious Majesty, I was asked by my father to present you with a most wondrous gift.”

  “You may rise, young woman, and approach me,” Ptolemy said with curious interest. “You are the daughter of my Royal Animal Trainer, are you not?”

  She avoided looking into his eyes, thinking it was forbidden to do so. “I am, Majesty. Sadly, my father has left the land of the living and dwells in the land of the dead.” Saying it aloud brought a dull ache to her heart.

  “What is this!” the king demanded angrily, casting an accusing glare at Parthanis. “My animal trainer is dead, and I was not informed. Why is that?”

  Taking a deep breath, and with much trepidation, Danaë moved toward the young king as he motioned her forward. When she raised her gaze to his, she saw the pout on his lips.

  “Explain why I was not told of this,” he said, turning to his teacher.

  Theodotus merely shrugged as if the matter were of no importance. “His death was unknown to me, Majesty.”

  “It is your function to know these things,” the eunuch Parthanis stated, and in that moment, Danaë noticed the animosity between the two men who stood closest to the throne. She had the feeling they fought over the young king like two dogs with a bone.

  The boy king brought his fist down hard on the arm of the throne. “I will have my animal trainer! Today you will start a search to find someone adequate to replace Lord Mycerinus.”

  The king seemed focused not on the death of Danaë’s father but with replacing him so he wouldn’t be inconvenienced. The young boy was ranting so loudly, Danaë was shocked.

  She suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and she longed for a sip of water.

  As she glanced to the left of the king, her gaze collided with a pair of probing dark eyes, and she suddenly discovered what terror felt like—for the man was none other than the Roman officer who had boarded the Blue Scarab at Pharus Island! The man who had kissed her. She saw something that frightened her even more. The man seemed to be sending her a silent message that was an unmistakable threat. She lowered her glance, wondering what reason he would have to be standing beside the king.

  Confusion took over her reasoning because the Roman wore a fine robe of state with gold bands around his upper arms and a wide golden collar about his neck. What shocked her most was the fact that his eyes were outlined with kohl, in the Egyptian manner, and he wore the ceremonial wig of a great lord. Anger snapped inside when she realized he must be a spy for Caesar.

  “You say you are brought me a gift,” Ptolemy said in irritation. “What is it? I don’t see a gift.”

  “Before my father died, he asked me to present to you a rare and wonderful animal. Jabatus is a hand-tamed cheetah.”

  The king leaned forward, his eyes suddenly bright with excitement, and he looked very much like the young boy he was. “I want to see him now. Did you bring him with you?”

  “Yes, Majesty. He is in a cage in the outer courtyard.”

  The king turned to his guards. “Bring the cage to me at once.” He motioned to Danaë. “Approach me and tell me more about this marvelous creature.”

  She took several steps, but halted at the dais. “The cheetah was raised from a cub and is very gentle. As Your Majesty knows, there is no animal faster than the cheetah, so he can accompany you even when you ride on horseback.”

  The young king’s eyes glistened. “Is he dangerous?”

  “No, Majesty. If you knew my father, then you would be aware he would never present you with an animal that might do you harm.”

  The prime minister had come down the steps and had stopped in front of Danaë. “Do not speak so familiarly to the king, Lady Danaë. Remember where you are and whom you address.”

  The king held up his hand to silence the man. “I like you, Lady Danaë. I have too many people who pander to me. Promise you will always speak truth to me.”

  “It is a promise easily given and easily kept, Majesty.” Her gaze went to the man she believed to be a Roman, and she focused on his hand, which rested up on the hilt of a golden dagger. Did the king know that the man was a Roman?

  “Clear everyone out of the room. I want to see my cheetah,” the boy commanded. “Parthanis, Theodotus, you may both leave, and all the others with you.”

  “But—” Theodotus protested. “I never leave you alone.”

  “Do so now!” the king ordered harshly. “Lord Ramtat, you may stay,” the king said, interrupting Theodotus. “I will rely on your knowledge of animals. Everyone else, except you and Lady Danaë, get out!”

  “I am eager to please, Majesty,” Ramtat said, stepping closer to the king and resting his arm across the back of the ornate throne. His gaze was focused on Danaë as if daring her to speak of what she knew.

  Anger battled with confusion inside her. Why did he stand so near the throne when he was one of Caesar’s men? Danaë was so deep in her troubled thoughts, she had not noticed that the room had emptied. She turned around when the bronze doors swung open and four guards entered, carrying the caged cheetah. She vaguely heard the king order the guards to place the cage on the floor and depart.

  “Show him to me,” the king commanded Danaë, excitement threading his tone.

  Danaë unlatched the cage, took the golden leash off a hook inside, and clipped it to the jewel-studded collar. The cheetah yawned and scratched, rubbing his body against Danaë like an affectionate house cat.

  Ptolemy had raised himself on his knees and was grinning. “Will he come to me?”

  “He has been trained to respond to certain commands, Majesty. You must clap your hands once and say ‘come,’ and he will do so.”

  Ptolemy did as she instructed, and the cheetah lumbered toward him while Danaë kept a firm grip on the chain.

  “If you want him to lay his head on your knee, you must say in a firm voice, ‘lay.’ ”

  The boy scrambled to a sitting position and did as she instructed. At that moment, the two-hundred-pound cat dropped its head on the king’s knee and licked his hand.

  A fresh bout of pity hit Danaë as she watched the lonely young boy’s face light up with happiness. “If I take him when I go out riding, will he attack other people or animals?”

  “Nay, Majesty. Jabatus has never tasted raw meat, so he has no desire for it.”

  Ptolemy’s face brightened as he buried his fingers in the animal’s thick coat. “This is a wondrous animal indeed. Can I trust him enough that he can sleep in my room?”

  “He would never harm you, Majesty. I have only to give him the command that will make him know he belongs to you, and then he will guard and protect only you and act on your commands. But have a care,” she cautioned. “For if you give the command for him to attack someone, he will strike to kill.”

  “Say the words that will let him know he belongs to me,” the boy commanded impatiently.

  Danaë went down on her knees and took the cheetah’s face in her hands. “Jabatus, this is your new master.” She motioned to the king. “Do just as I did, Majesty. Hold his face in your hands and let him get your smell.”

  Scrambling to the steps, Ptolemy fearlessly went to his knees, just as Danaë had instructed.

  “Jabatus, this is your master—you will heed only his words. He is your master!” She nodded to the king. “Tell him you are his master.”

  Ptolemy took the cat’s huge head in his hands and smiled. “I am your master.”

  The cat merely blinked.

  “It did not work,” Ptol
emy stated, his green gaze seeking Danaë’s. “He shows no sign that he understood me.”

  “He understood you, Majesty,” she assured the king. “If you give him a command, he will obey you.”

  “Not you?”

  Danaë hesitated before she said, “He will always remember me, but he knows who his master is.”

  The cat turned his big head and stared at the king. Then he lapped the boy’s cheek and settled down at his feet.

  “He will belong only to you from this day forward.”

  Ptolemy’s face lit up, and he laughed like a small boy. “I have something that only I can command.”

  Lord Ramtat, who had been silently watching the whole event, now spoke, “But surely you can command whomever you will, Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, yes, but that does not matter. It is no fun to have people fumbling around to please me.” His gaze met Danaë’s. “I am sorry about your father. He did well when he trained this animal.”

  “Thank you for honoring my father, Majesty. But it was I who trained the cheetah.”

  “I may consider bestowing your father’s title on you,” he stated absently. Then his gaze shifted to the man beside him. “I am glad you have returned to court, Lord Ramtat. I need all my loyal friends beside me with the Romans lurking about.” Then he glanced back at Danaë. “You may leave, young woman. I will send word if I decide I want to see you again.”

  Danaë bowed her head, but not before she saw the threatening look in Lord Ramtat’s dark eyes. Something was very wrong, but until she knew what it was, she would remain silent. Egypt was in turmoil, and to speak against a man as powerful as Lord Ramtat would surely bring about her death.

  First she would discuss the matter with Uriah—he would know how to advise her. Before she bowed and backed away, she gazed once more into Lord Ramtat’s eyes, hoping she was wrong about him. But his dark gaze burned into hers, and she knew he was dangerous.

  Danaë backed quickly away, hurrying from the throne room. As she rushed down a long marble corridor, her heart was beating so fast, she could feel the blood throbbing in her temples. Two guards were posted at the double doors just ahead, and she could see the reflection of the sun on the black marble floors. If she could only make it outside, perhaps she could take a clear breath.

  “Lady Danaë, wait. I would speak with you.”

  With dread, she recognized Lord Ramtat’s voice and realized he had followed her. Some inner voice warned her of danger. She had only two chances to escape him: she could approach the two guards and ask one of them to take her to the king at once, or she could run.

  She did neither—she turned to face Lord Ramtat. “Yes?” she asked.

  Ramtat nodded at the guards, who saluted him. Then he casually took Danaë’s arm, but his grip was strong. “I would have a private word with you, Lady Danaë.”

  She wanted to jerk her arm free and rush outside to find Uriah, but instead she raised her head and met his gaze defiantly. Looking into his brown eyes, she noticed they were flecked with gold. “I must … hurry or my servant will be concerned about me.”

  A smile curved his lips. “A mistress concerned about her servant’s feelings—a dangerous notion if it took root and swept across Egypt,” he said with humor; then his expression became serious. His grip tightened painfully on her arm. “I insist on speaking to you.”

  Danaë had no choice but to allow him to lead her back down the hallway into an empty room. Ramtat did not relinquish his hold on her until he was sure no one could overhear their conversation.

  “Lady Danaë, I noticed your … confusion when you saw me with the king today.”

  She stared at him, feeling more angry than frightened at the moment. “But I was not confused when I saw you on board a Roman ship, wearing the uniform of a Roman officer,” she said.

  He pulled her closer, and Danaë knew she was in real danger. “You shall forget you saw me before today,” Ramtat insisted in a quiet voice that held warning. “Is that understood?”

  “I understand you want the king to believe you are his friend.”

  “You tread on dangerous ground,” he warned.

  “And you tread the path of a traitor.”

  He gave her a small shake. “I’m no traitor.”

  “Yet you would have me forget I saw you that day on the deck of the Blue Scarab.”

  “The gods know I have not been able to forget you.”

  He brought her against him, and she could feel the hard muscles beneath his robe. Her eyes half closed when he raised her chin and gazed down at her. Then he dipped his head to whisper, “Have you thought of me?”

  Danaë felt his breath on her lips, and her body went weak, but not from fear. She wanted to be in his arms and feel his lips pressed to hers once more. But this man was not to be trusted—he was a danger to the king, and most certainly to her. Pulling away, she shook her head. “How could I forget you when you insist I have never seen you before today?”

  His eyes narrowed as he tired to decide whether she would expose him to the king and ruin Caesar’s plans. “Do not meddle in matters that don’t concern you,” he cautioned. Then he gave her a courtly bow for the benefit of any onlookers who might happen by.

  Before she could reply, he turned and walked away.

  Theodotus stepped out of the shadows, his teeth bared. He had overheard the end of the conversation between Lady Danaë and Lord Ramtat, and he wished he could have heard the whole exchange. One thing was certain: For some reason, Lord Ramtat had threatened Lady Danaë. But why?

  But the royal teacher had other matters on his mind. He was sick of paying homage to the sniveling boy who held the throne of Egypt. For years, he’d pretended to be Ptolemy’s friend, and where had it got him? Today, the child had sent Theodotus out of the throne room, humiliating him. In all the years he had been the king’s tutor, Theodotus had not been able to instill much knowledge into the boy’s head.

  Theodotus had no idea he was glowering as he moved steadily down the corridor, but the guards on duty saw the frown, and they stiffened, avoiding his gaze. If anyone was to be feared in the palace, it was the royal tutor.

  Theodotus’s thoughts were centered on the man he despised most. He had devised many plans to be rid of Parthanis, who had been hailed as prime minister by all Egypt. Theodotus knew he was more intelligent than Parthanis and deserved the office more than the fat eunuch.

  But Theodotus was patient and willing to wait until the right moment before he struck at Parthanis. Otherwise the fingers of blame would point at him since it was well known that he despised the man. Because the boy was weak and easily led, the person who controlled the king wielded the power in Egypt.

  After he had been sent from the throne room, Theodotus had listened in the hidden passage while Lady Danaë had presented the cheetah to the king, and in that moment, he knew how he would finally be rid of the eunuch.

  Poison was what most people used to dispose of an enemy, but Theodotus would devise something ingenious, and something that could never be traced back to him. It would be very simple to make friends with the cheetah—Ptolemy would like that. Theodotus smiled—he would secretly begin feeding the animal raw meat. The cheetah would grow to trust him, and he would slowly train it to strike against his enemy.

  He could hardly contain his joy, just thinking what a glorious day it would be when the cheetah tore the prime minister’s throat out!

  Ramtat found it difficult to keep his mind on the affairs of Egypt when all he could think about was the sultry beauty who kept crossing his path. She was brave, and the gods knew she was stubborn, but she was also as exciting and unpredictable as the exotic cats she trained. He had seen a flash of anger in her green eyes, and it made him wonder what color those eyes would be if they were darkened with passion. Her body was lean and muscled, and he wondered what beauty lay beneath her robe. Still, she was a problem for him; as of yet, he had not decided what to do about her. She could expose him if she decided to. That sh
e had not told the king what she knew about him was merely because she had been taken by surprise when she’d seen him today.

  When she had time to think about it, she might very well go straight to Ptolemy with the truth.

  Danaë could not stop trembling. She had made a powerful enemy in Lord Ramtat—one who would not hesitate to take her life if he thought her a threat. She remembered his warning. He already saw her as a danger.

  What should she do?

  She rushed out of the palace, and in her haste, she took a wrong turn and ended up near a private garden where a guard barred her way. Carefully she retraced her steps and finally discovered a door that led to the outer courtyard, where she found Uriah waiting for her.

  “Was the king pleased?” he asked, helping her into the litter, and then settling in beside her. He had already sent the empty cart home.

  It took Danaë a moment to compose herself. “He seemed excited. He was very well pleased.”

  “Yet you are worried about something,” Uriah stated with his usual perception. “Do you want to discuss it?”

  She hesitated, knowing the litter bearers could hear every word they said. “Later. When I’ve had time to think and get everything straight in my mind, I’ll want to ask your advice.”

  He nodded. “Did you meet someone other than the king?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her voice. “A Roman.”

  Uriah was puzzled. He could see that Danaë was more than worried, she was frightened of something, or someone, and he wondered what had happened to upset her.

  Chapter Eight

  A cloud bank covered the moon, and only torchlights along the walkway illuminated the high pylons and thick marble walls of the palace. Ramtat, having the advantage of being a frequent visitor to the place in his younger years, was familiar with its layout, and he knew many of the secret passages and hidden gardens. He cleverly avoided the two sentries posted near the palace steps, and pushed aside a climbing vine so he could enter the hidden gate that led to an inner courtyard.