Ramtat was feverish, and he tossed on the bed, his throat parched and dry. “Water,” he whispered through cracked lips. “So thirsty.”
A golden cup was pressed to his lips, and he swallowed thirstily.
“That is enough for now. You must not take too much all at once.”
Ramtat frowned. Was it Danaë’s face that came to him out of a fog? Was it her hand that was cool on his forehead? Fever had dimmed his eyesight, but still the face looked like hers. Then his vision cleared a bit, and he painfully rolled his head. This woman’s nose was not as small as Danaë’s, but the eyes were the same.
Pain stabbed at his side, and he clearly heard Queen Cleopatra’s voice. It was she who had given him water.
“Have a care, Physician—the man you treat is important to Egypt,” the queen warned.
Was Ramtat dreaming, or was it Caesar’s voice he heard coming to him out of the swirling darkness.
“Lord Ramtat is important to Rome as well as Egypt. He risked his life to bring us the information that your brother is dead.”
After that, Ramtat felt darkness swallow him, and he heard no more.
Danaë stood beside Uriah, watching the waves lap against the boat. For an instant, she felt she was reliving an earlier moment in her life. Not so long ago she had stood on the deck of this ship looking toward an uncertain future. Now it was even more uncertain. Ramtat would be searching for her, and her fate at his hands would be harsh. Harique was probably looking for her as well, and from what Uriah said, he’d taken over all her holdings. And then there was the queen, the greatest danger to her of all.
“If, as you say, Harique burned my father’s copies of the adoption papers, and also burned the one in your possession, then I have no proof to take before the king.”
“It will not be the king you petition, but the queen. King Ptolemy has been driven out of Alexandria, and there are rumors that he might be dead. His sister now sits upon the throne unchallenged.”
Danaë was utterly dejected as she remembered the king that everyone had used and then discarded. “ ’Tis a pity such a young boy should have had to rule without proper guidance.”
“He was not capable of ruling,” Uriah said.
Danaë’s head felt too heavy to hold up, and tears choked her throat. “I wonder if anyone mourns Ptolemy.”
“You do.”
She wiped her tears away. “I have no hope of reclaiming my good name if I have to face Queen Cleopatra.”
Uriah suddenly smiled. “You have every reason to hope. Not all the copies of your adoption papers were destroyed. When I gave the High Priest of Isis the white tiger skin, I also placed in his keeping one of the documents of your legal adoption, as well as deeds to the properties your father left to you. The high priest was overjoyed with the gift, and he wore the tiger skin draped about his shoulders for all to see. He assured me he will stand beside you and plead your case to the royal court should the need arise.”
Danaë felt overwhelming relief, but she also had concerns. “Have you any word of Lord Ramtat?”
“None. But as we both know, if he stays true to form, he’ll soon be scouring the countryside for you. Even now he may be searching for you. But there we have him; the sea leaves no footprints.”
Danaë felt the pain of loss. Never to see Ramtat again would be a punishment in itself. “When we reach our destination, we will plan our strategy. I believe I should request an audience with the queen as soon as possible. Do you not agree?”
Uriah nodded, his gaze locked with Danaë’s. “Aye. It would not be wise to let too much time go by.”
She stared into the distance. “He will come after me, Uriah—he won’t stop until he finds me.”
“Lord Ramtat?”
“Yes. He is relentless.”
“That is another reason we must clear your name as soon as we can.”
Even though Danaë was free, she still felt chained to Ramtat. She tried to imagine what he’d do when he returned home and found she’d escaped.
“Life has become difficult, Uriah. There was a time when I knew peace and contentment. Now I know neither.”
He patted her hand. “I know. But it will change—you shall see.”
She met his troubled gaze. “Thank you for all your loyal service and for never giving up on me.”
He looked out to sea. “Child, you are the joy of my life. I will see you happy before I die.”
He hadn’t called her “child” in a long time, and she was warmed by the affection in his voice. “There will be no talk of death.” She suddenly smiled, heartened by the loyalty of those around her. She would not feel sorry for herself—she had everything to live for. Danaë touched her stomach and felt warmth spread over her. Her monthly flow had not arrived. She was almost sure a child grew inside her—Ramtat’s child. For the sake of this baby, she had to reclaim her life so she could prepare a safe home before the birth.
Later, she would tell Uriah and Minuhe that she had conceived, but for now, she wanted to keep her precious secret to herself.
She turned toward Alexandria, wondering what Ramtat was doing at that moment. What would he think if he knew he was going to be a father?
What did it matter? With this baby, she would always have a part of Ramtat with her.
The sun was going down, and the evening breeze rippled through the branches of the trees. Low clouds drifted by, shadowing the land. Ramtat hobbled outside, feeling pain with each step he took. A servant had placed cushions on a bench so he could be more comfortable. He had not realized how near he had come to death until the queen’s physician had told him of the blood loss and the infection that had raged through his bloodstream.
With each passing day, the pain lessened, but he was still weak. Today was his first full day out of bed, and he was restless to return home … and to Danaë.
“Well, it is about time you got out of bed.” Caesar smiled, looking pleased. “I send you on a little errand, and you manage to turn it into a fiasco.”
“Taking a dagger in the side was not in my plans.”
The Roman sat down on a nearby bench. “I’ll say this for you—you know how to get everyone’s attention. Even the queen waited upon you like a servant. I was starting to get jealous of all the attention she was showering on you.”
“I thought I remembered Her Majesty in my delirium, but then I wasn’t sure if it was she, or Danaë, who gave me water.”
“Ah. Then no one has told you that your little bird has taken flight?”
Ramtat tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean your prisoner went over the garden wall and fled.” Caesar leaned back and stared at the sky. “I can tell you Queen Cleopatra was not happy with that news.”
“She knows about Ptolemy?”
“Aye. Despite your delirium, you delivered the message. Cleopatra is the power in Egypt these days. I have to confess, when you first told me that she was the right ruler for Egypt, I had my doubts.”
“And now?”
“I have watched her myself, and I have to admit, Egypt will be blessed to have her on the throne.”
Ramtat was only half listening to Caesar. “What can you tell me about Lady Danaë?”
“That there was a search made for her, but it turned up naught. She has disappeared, and I fear you will never see her again, unless there was a real plot afoot, and that I doubt.”
Ramtat leaned back and closed his eyes. Never see Danaë again—what a cold and empty world it would be. He should be angry that she had escaped, but in truth he was relieved that she would not have to face Cleopatra’s wrath. Wherever Danaë was, he hoped she was safe. As soon as possible, he would search for her.
“Lord Harique told Antinanious that if he could find the Jew, Uriah, he would find the young woman. A search was made for him, but he too has disappeared, as has the lady’s childhood nurse, so at least we can conclude she’s not alone. Cleopatra sees your prisoner’s escape as proof that she is not Mycerinus’s
daughter.”
Ramtat closed his eyes, and realized he could not search for Danaë. If he brought her back to Alexandria, it would undoubtedly mean her death. It was better if he let her go.
Uriah’s brother, Zaphaniah, was every bit as kind as his older sibling. Against her wishes, Danaë was given the best room in the small house. Other than an elderly housekeeper, Anai, the brother had no servants or family, tended his flocks alone.
Obsidian was a shock to Zaphaniah, even though he’d been told to expect the big cat and had built a sturdy shelter to contain her. Tyi was given the freedom to come and go as he liked. Faraji found the farm to his liking and spent much of his time tilling the soil.
Minuhe, however, proved more troublesome. She had hardly entered the house before she insulted Anai. She refused to allow the woman to cook for Danaë or even serve her food. Anai was pouting, and Minuhe was scoffing.
Danaë knew she had to remove her group from poor Zaphaniah’s life so he could again know peace.
It was late on the third night that Danaë sat under the stars with the two brothers. “I have a plan,” Uriah stated. “It would involve your going to Alexandria,” he told his brother.
Zaphaniah nodded in agreement. “I’m the obvious one to go—no one will recognize me. What would you have me do, Brother?”
Danaë put her hand on Zaphaniah’s. “You have done so much for us already. I hesitate to involve you in my troubles. Even now if Queen Cleopatra discovers you have helped me, you may be in danger.”
He studied the young woman who meant so much to his brother. “I care not for that. You and your father have treated my brother with dignity, and I know he loves you like a daughter. If not for your father’s generosity, I would not have this farm.”
“This is something I know nothing about.”
Uriah leaned back and stared up at the stars. “Lord Mycerinus bought me from the slave market the same day he bought your mother. From the first, he showed me nothing but kindness. When he discovered I knew ciphers in several languages, he determined I would be your tutor when you were old enough for me to teach.”
“My father was a kind man. He would not be happy about the stain on his good name. I wish I could have been a better daughter to him.”
“Do not say that,” Uriah protested. “ ’Tis Harique who stains the name, not you.”
“How did my father help you, Zaphaniah?”
“Lord Mycerinus loaned me the money to buy this farm. He gave me years to repay him and charged me no interest. He was a truly good man, and I am proud to have this opportunity to do something for his daughter.”
Tears gathered in Danaë’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
“Now—” Zaphaniah spoke in a gruff, but gentle, tone. “Tell us your plan, Brother.”
“Everything must be timed perfectly for it to work,” Uriah said, huddling nearer to the others and lowering his voice although there was no one about to overhear them. “First, you must go to the High Priest of Isis and ask him if he will present the adoption documents to the queen on the day she grants us an audience. When she hears who asks for the audience, I think she will not keep us waiting too long.”
Zaphaniah nodded. “Will the high priest see me?”
“All you have to do is tell his servant you come in the name of Lady Danaë.”
Danaë’s eyes widened. “And then what?”
Uriah rose up and walked to and fro, his rough garment slapping against his legs. “This is the way I see it …”
Theodotus stared into the starry night as the horse-drawn cart rattled over cobbled streets. He directed his slave onto a dusty road that led out of the city, his mind racing ahead to the task that awaited him. King Ptolemy was dead—drowned in his heavy armor, or so it was said. The rival Theodotus had hated above all others was also dead, killed by the queen’s man, Apollodorus.
His heart burned with the need for revenge—not that he’d loved the king, or even liked him, but with the king’s death, Theodotus’s ambitions had died as well. Word had gone out that he was to be arrested on sight, and he’d guessed that his death was imminent. But before he died, he would take the true enemy of Egypt with him.
Queen Cleopatra!
It was said the queen had been impregnated by Caesar. Surely the gods would smile on him if he could send the queen and her unborn Roman whelp to their deaths!
They were now in open country, and the full moon illuminated the landscape. Theodotus wished it had been a darker night, but his task would not take long, and he hoped there would be no one to witness his task. But what did it matter? He was a dead man anyway.
He congratulated himself on how cleverly he had avoided being arrested thus far. He’d taken three of his slaves through a secret passageway that led directly to the dead king’s chamber. The rooms had been dark and deserted, stripped of all wealth. Even the silken coverlet had been rolled up to be discarded. Queen Cleopatra had wasted no time in erasing every trace of her brother—but luckily the cheetah was still in its cage. Theodotus had easily smuggled the animal out through the secret passages. He had taken up residence in a deserted house at the edge of Alexandria, where he had meticulously completed the cheetah’s training. Until now, Jabatus had not killed a human. But tonight the cat was to be put to the test.
He’d instructed a frightened Nute to poke and prod the cat with sharp sticks wrapped in clothing that had belonged to Cleopatra, introducing Jabatus to the queen’s scent, and identifying her as his tormentor. Yesterday he’d stopped feeding the animal so it would be hungry enough to kill—he hoped.
In the back of the cart he could hear the cheetah pacing and growling. It was making his slave Nute extremely nervous. Poor Nute had every reason to be apprehensive.
Tonight he would be the cat’s prey.
The silly slave had been so grateful when Theodotus had presented him with a fine robe, and charged him to wear it tonight. Little did Nute know he wore a robe that belonged to a queen, and carried her scent.
When they reached a secluded valley hidden by hills on three sides, he motioned for Nute to halt. “I will need you to climb that small hill to the north,” he instructed the slave. “Run. Do it quickly.”
Theodotus could tell that Nute was confused, but the slave immediately obeyed.
When Nute was halfway up the hill, Theodotus released the cat. “Go Jabatus! Kill!”
Theodotus had an anxious moment when the cat turned in his direction with a growl deep in his throat. Theodotus waved one of the queen’s scarves under the cat’s nose and said once more, “Kill!”
To his relief, Jabatus leaped from the cart and raced after the luckless slave. Theodotus waited breathlessly as the animal swiftly caught up with Nute and took him screaming to the ground. Theodotus gripped his hands while the cheetah ripped the slave’s throat open, and blood splattered all about. With his heart pounding, Theodotus watched the hungry cat devour its prey.
He smiled. Now Jabatus was ready to perform a duty for the gods.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ramtat tied the leather lace of his knee-high sandals and stood. His servant settled a leather jerkin over Ramtat’s blue tunic and fastened him into his bronze armor. Today he was to take up his position beside the queen, and it was not a task he relished. Not that he didn’t love his queen, but he thought the duty should have gone to someone other than him—someone who wished to be heaped with honor.
He slid his helmet in place and hurried through the corridor and out the front door. Ramtat stared at the escort of honor the queen had sent him, and he frowned. This was a frivolous existence, and not to his liking. He was a man who loved to ride across the desert with his wild Bedouin tribesmen or run his estates himself. He was not a courtier; he preferred a simpler life.
But what did any of that matter now that Danaë was not at his side?
“General,” one of the soldiers said, crossing his arm over his chest in a salute and handing Ramtat a scroll. “Her Majesty asked
that I give you this. We are to ride directly to the palace.”
Ramtat unrolled the papyrus and read it as he walked to his horse. A moment later he stopped short and stared toward the palace. Then he mounted his horse and raced through the streets, his guard of honor scrambling to catch up with him.
Many citizens knew who he was and bowed respectfully as he passed them by. But Ramtat paid no attention to anyone. Chickens squawked and scattered as his horse knocked over a cage. On he rode with just one thought in mind.
Danaë.
He would see her today. That she had asked for an audience with the queen puzzled him. What could it mean?
Danaë did not know how this day would end. She was nervous as a guard led her and Uriah down a long corridor.
When she stepped inside the chamber, she found it smaller than the elaborate throne room where she had first seen King Ptolemy. On the dais there was a single throne—Queen Cleopatra ruled alone. There were very few people in the room, but Danaë kept her gaze averted, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes.
She glanced up at the dais and saw the man she knew must be the High Priest of Isis because he wore the white tiger skin across his shoulder. He nodded at Danaë and smiled. Uriah stood on Danaë’s right, and she was comforted by his solid strength. She almost stumbled when she saw Harique standing across the room with his arms folded over his chest, his hard gaze upon her.
Uriah caught her arm. “Courage. You are the one in the right, and it will be proven here today.”
Two tall men entered and climbed to the dais to stand on opposite sides of the throne. One was foreign in appearance, and Danaë imagined he was the Sicilian, Apollodorus. And that would make the other man the queen’s adviser, Antinanious.
A gong sounded near the door, and a man’s voice announced the arrival of the queen. Danaë was so frightened, she was afraid she would faint. She had eaten no morning meal because the smell of food made her feel ill.
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