The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Ismene watched the sun seeping into the room through the window as she always did in the morning. Beams of light piercing into the darkness never ceased to fascinate her. The sun was a life source. As a child, she always loved to sit under a tree or by a brook, places where she was near those beams, to calm and collect her thoughts.

  This morning, she was thinking about Alistair and their marriage. What she had intended and had been determined for their relationship to remain was not the same as it was turning out to be. Her heart was changing, or rather, her determination was starting to bend to her heart. It was time for her to take her place in the household. What better time than now? Alistair was gone and so all the household duties were hers to oversee. Placing a challenge before herself, she sat up to prepare for this day.

  As she turned from the bed, she saw her book there on the chest where she had set it the previous night. This morning, a bouquet of lotus flowers covered it with a rolled piece of paper amongst the blooms. She lifted the note from among the beautiful petals and unrolled it.

  Beautiful Ismene,

  Forgive me, I did not know how to say good-bye to your lovely face. You know that I will miss you and that I am counting the minutes until I return. This is the price I pay for being a man of my position, but never before has it seemed such a high price to pay.

  I have instructed Neterka to attend to your every need and I know that he will serve you well. Please rely on him, he knows the house and staff well and they trust him.

  I will think of you fondly as you have captivated my heart with your smile. I have not yet spoken it, but you must know that I love you, my bride. I couldn't leave without letting you know. I am stricken with the thought that I may never return to you, but the image of your face and the sound of your voice are forever with me and they bring me great comfort.

  Until our eyes meet again,

  All my heart,

  Alistair

  Reaching up, she felt tears on her face. She had not realized she was crying, but she knew her heart was breaking and soaring at the same time. He loved her. He truly did! Her heart swelled with emotion for him at the realization of how safe she was to feel what she had been hiding. Why had she hidden her feelings for him so deep that she couldn't even recognize, much less express her love for him until it was too late? Longing now for the good-bye she didn't get, she wondered, would she have told him? Ismene wanted to, so much. But wishes of what could have been or would have been were futile and she knew it. She could only move on from here.

  The prospect of becoming true mistress of this house filled her with a new purpose. And she was now more eager than ever to take her place as his wife. An idea was sparked. She would surprise him with all that she could do and how well she could handle his household. Then she would tell him that she did it because she wanted to be his wife and because she loved him. Picturing the whole scene before her, she could already see the surprise in those beautiful eyes of his, his eyebrow raised, intrigued. Closing her eyes, she thought on his face for a minute more. Her plan must start today and she must make it happen.

  * * *

  Neterka knocked on the door to the outer bedchambers. He could count on one hand the number of times Ismene had summoned him. It was always a source of much curiosity for him when she did. And all the more so with the general gone—he had expected she would keep to herself these next weeks. Sure, he might pass her in the house, but he thought she would keep to her room or the gardens, or perhaps take a trip to the marketplace. It hadn't crossed into his realm of thinking that she would be summoning for his services already. Was this a foretelling of what was to come? Did she think he was now free to do her bidding? If so, he would have to assign someone to take on that task...perhaps Mesi...or Safiya. No, Rabiah. Yes, Rabiah would do nicely.

  “Please, come in,” Ismene called out, breaking into his thoughts.

  He entered, surprised to find the mistress of the house greeting him at the door.

  “Would you wish for me to get your food?” he asked, stumbling over himself.

  “I have already eaten, thank you. I would like to do an inventory of the kitchen today,” she said as if it were something they did each Tuesday together.

  “Milady, I have myself done that inventory just yesterday,” he said, his words coming out fast, a bit fumbled. Ismene had never shown any interest in performing any of the household tasks that would have fallen to the mistress of the home.

  “Excellent,” she said, eyes bright. “I will need some guidance.”

  “Milady, I mean to say that it is not necessary for you to do it. I can handle that for you,” he said in sincerity. Being that the general had been unwed for a matter of time, Neterka had become accustomed to these tasks and it was no trouble for him to continue.

  “I do thank you, Neterka, but I know that it's part of my job and I've been neglecting my duties around here.” Her features betrayed a slight frown.

  “But General Merenre wishes that you not have to do this work that I can take care of,” he protested.

  “I understand and I do appreciate you and all that you do, Neterka. I will speak with General Merenre when he returns if that is your concern, but I wish to assume the duties of the house that fall on my shoulders. You should not have to do my job and yours. I insist.” There it was. Her final word. It left no room for argument unless he wished to disrespect her. Which he did not. Neterka studied her for a minute. Was this a game? Or was she sincere? She certainly seemed so. What had brought about this change? It didn't matter. What truly mattered was her willingness to take her place and be part of the house. This thought pleased him. A smile broke out across his face.

  “Of course, milady. Follow me.”

  He held the door open for her to pass through. Then he came up alongside her and led her toward the kitchen.

  * * *

  It was late at night. Members of the group were wandering into the main room without ceremony, unpronounced. Everyone preferred to discuss business and then get back to wherever they belonged, hopefully before anyone missed them. As the last few people wandered in, Tarik stepped into the center, and called the meeting to order.

  “We have recruited several more members. That is good. I told you at the last meeting that more of our countrymen would realize the danger that Greeks taking over would pose, and feel a strong desire to join our ranks.” A sense of mutual agreement passed through the room as various members nodded their heads, looking at each other with smiles and increasing confidence.

  “But I must also caution you that we are still a small group. Do not leave here with too much pride and do something stupid that would expose us all. Secrecy is critical until we can make our move. If our Greek rulers find out what we are up to before we move, all may be lost. And I'm not just talking about our chance at freedom. We would all be drawn and quartered in the desert.”

  This tone of voice shocked some of the newer members. Those who had been at previous meetings recognized the familiar words Tarik often used to remind people of the grave consequences.

  “Now is there any new business we need to be aware of?”

  “Some strange things have happened at General Merenre's home in the last few days.” The man reporting this wore a stark blue robe. “I'm sure some of you have heard of this. Several people I have spoken to suspect we are behind it.”

  Some accusations began to fly back and forth.

  “Are we behind this?”

  “I didn't know we were making our move.”

  “We didn't do it.”

  “It's about time.”

  Tarik had to stand up and regain control of the meeting.

  “We are not a rabble of miscreants! We are proud Egyptians. There will be order!” Tarik silenced everyone. “I, too, am aware of these so-called 'attacks.' None of them have been sanctioned by us.” The whole time Tarik spoke, his eyes roamed the room. Nassor noticed this, and couldn't help but notice that Tarik's eyes rested on Sefu a little longer than an
yone else.

  Why is he staring at Sefu? Does he know about us? Nassor felt rather nervous being unable to decipher what was going on between Sefu and Tarik. He couldn't discern if he saw something between them, or if it was just his imagination. Then a thought flashed across his mind. Did Tarik hire Sefu? Nassor had always thought that Sefu was the leader of their faction, but now he realized someone else could be involved. That is crazy. Sefu could never take orders from someone else. This “job” they were running was for someone else. That was all. But was that Tarik? Remembering how many times Sefu and Tarik argued at meetings, the thought of those two working together soon vanished.

  “As I stated, those attacks are not from us. I hope no one doubts me.” As that last comment was made, there was a sinister look in his eyes. Things quieted down rather fast. “The reason I called you all here is due to a serious issue that is culminating as we speak. Several Greek families are relocating to Alexandria. No doubt they are rich families that will bring much influence to the court of Pharaoh. There is already enough of a Greek stench in that palace. The thought of more money and power concentrated in the hands of the Greeks is horrendous.”

  A huge patriotic surge of shouting broke out, with many people repeating their hatred of the Greeks.

  The loudest to shout was Sefu, “The time to act is NOW!”

  Everyone heard him, as they often did, and Tarik glared squarely at him.

  “At last, Sefu,” Tarik said. “You and I agree on something.”

  As Tarik's eyes swept across the group, he spoke in a rising tone, “Indeed, the time is now. And so we will rise to the occasion. Ready yourselves, men, I am calling you to action.”

  Seven

  Attacks

  Ismene fell on her bed. She was tired to the bone. Running a house this large was a mountain-sized task! Not to mention she had spent her downtime in the garden pulling weeds. She was dirty and her body ached from the effort. She should bathe before going to bed, but she was just too tired to keep her hold on consciousness. As her eyes fell closed, she noticed there was something strange about her pillows, but that was all the thought she put into it before she let the dark of sleep overtake her.

  * * *

  Alonah slipped into the room not long after Ismene, but found her mistress out cold. How on earth did her mistress sleep, not caring that she was covered in mud from the knee down and from her elbows to her hands? She had worked herself too hard this day. It was one thing to take on the duties of the mistress of the house, another to take them all on at once. Ismene tasked herself almost as if she were punishing herself for something. But what? What could she have done that deserved such penalizing?

  There was a chance she would wake, and Alonah wagered Ismene would want to clean herself, so she went about filling Ismene's bedside bowl with water and setting out a clean nightshift. Then she covered her mistress with a thin blanket. If only there was more she could do for Ismene. But she dare not for fear of waking her. Ismene was much in need of her sleep. She let her gaze rest on the peaceful features of her charge for a handful of seconds before exiting the room.

  * * *

  It was hours later into the night when Ismene woke up. Her arm was throbbing painfully, numb from the way she had been sleeping on it. With much effort, she sat up and rubbed life back into the offended limb. Her clothes from the day were no longer comfortable sleepwear or suitable to slip into her bed, caked with dirt as they were. Faster than she thought possible in her sleep-drugged state, she changed out of her filthy linen and discarded the soiled garment for cleaning.

  The bowl on her nightstand had been filled with water. She was thankful for Alonah's thoughtfulness. A bath was out of the question, but she felt better washing off the worst of the dirt before getting into the clean nightshift that Alonah had also prepared for her. Then she looked to her nice, fresh bed. Well, it was clean beneath the blanket—the top now had traces of garden dirt where she had been lying. Night had long since fallen and cooled the earth and her bedchambers, and she was eager to crawl between the blanket and sheets.

  After several minutes at the bowl, washing and scrubbing her skin, she braided her hair. At last, she felt ready to climb into bed for the rest of the night. Lifting the blanket, she slipped into the warmth it offered. She could detect right away that something wasn't quite right. It felt as if the bed were covered in strips of cloth. Shoving the blanket back with her feet, she sought to reveal what her eyes had not been able to see. In the moonlight, she could see that her sheets had been cut to shreds.

  Ismene jumped out of bed and screamed in reaction to what she saw. Who? What? A rush of dread filled her as she realized that someone...someone with sinister intentions had been in her bedchambers. She couldn't quite get her thoughts straight, much less her voice. So the scream remained the only vocalization she made. Was the person still here? Watching her? Waiting? She jerked her head around, searching in the darkness for any sign of someone else in her bedroom.

  In moments, Alonah, whose small chamber was next to Ismene's, rushed into the room with a lit candle, half-asleep.

  “Milady, are you well?” She was rubbing her eyes.

  Ismene had backed across the room from the offending object and, still unable to find her voice, just pointed in the direction of her bed.

  Alonah's gaze followed the invisible line to where she was pointing and saw the sheets. “Milady!” She rushed over close enough to touch Ismene, but kept a breath's distance from her. “Are you injured?”

  Ismene shook her head, continuing to back up. Her back hit the door and her shoulder blade smacked something.

  She let out a yelp.

  Alonah pulled her away from the wall and held up the candle to reveal the handle of a dagger that had been stabbed into the middle of the doorframe.

  Ismene fainted.

  * * *

  When Ismene's eyes opened again, it was daylight. She was reclined on a lounge in her chambers. Now conscious, she began to move to sit up.

  “The lady is awake!” she heard a voice call out. It was Alonah.

  Alonah's face was over her a split second later. “Take it slow, milady, you took quite a bump to your head when you fell last night.”

  Ismene nodded, the events of last night were jumbled and foggy. She'd had a strange dream, a terribly frightening dream. Maybe that was why she was having a hard time remembering what happened to get her to this point. Alonah helped her get adjusted to a sitting position and propped cushions behind her, so she could still recline.

  “I'll send for some tea,” Alonah said and disappeared from the room.

  What had happened last night? She remembered going to bed early after her long day, waking up, going back to bed. That's when she'd had the strange dream about her sheets being shredded. What a horrible nightmare. How on earth had her mind conjured that up? There was something nagging at the back of her mind. It was a dream, right?

  Ismene got to her feet, making slow movements. Once upright, her head started pounding. She reached up to brace it somehow and felt the bandaging that someone had done after she'd apparently taken a fall last night. That must have been what was causing her memory problems. After some moments, she made it to one of the columns in her bedchambers. Turning her attention to her bed, she noticed that it had been stripped. Was that because the sheets were being cleaned or because they had been mangled as in her dream? She felt a wave of nausea come over her and she leaned against the column.

  “Ow!” she cried as her shoulder protested her weight. It was rather sore. Reaching around, she used her opposite hand to explore the sensitive area. There was a bruise forming on her shoulder blade. Then she remembered. Last night she had backed into, rather smacked into a—no, it couldn't be. Glancing at the door, she sought to confirm with her eyes what her mind was telling her. There it was, a dagger-sized hole. She felt weak-kneed and, despite the tenderness in her shoulder, leaned on the column again for support. Her head was swimming and the room started spinni
ng.

  “Milady, no! What are you doing up and about? You are not well enough for this!” Alonah scolded, rushing toward her mistress.

  Ismene did not object. She could feel how unwell she was.

  Alonah helped her back to the lounge. Ismene leaned on her and didn't care. She was overwhelmed with the realization of what had happened to her the previous evening.

  “It wasn't a dream,” she managed to say as she was being seated.

  “No,” Alonah said sadly.

  “Who? Why?” she started, stumbling over her words

  “You know who. The people who gave us that letter!” Alonah said. “I told Neterka everything.”

  Ismene nodded; tears brimmed her eyes.

  “It will be all right.” Alonah squeezed her hands.

  “They were in my room,” Ismene said, louder than she wanted. “My room. How...?” The question trailed off and she bit back a sob.

  “I don't know, but Neterka will take care of you. We can trust him.”

  Ismene nodded. She knew Alonah was right. Alistair trusted Neterka with the safety of the whole estate and everyone in it. This was no different.

  “And when the general gets back, Neterka will tell him everything.”

  Ismene nodded again. “It is time.”

  Alonah watched her mistress's movements carefully. “And it's time you took some tea and got some rest.”

  Ismene did not argue with her nor refuse her help as she shifted the pillows so that Ismene could drink the tea while stretched out. Ismene drank in silence, her eyes looking off at some distant object, her mind elsewhere. No words were spoken between them as Alonah took the teacup, readjusted the pillows for a more reclined position, and covered her mistress with a thin blanket for sleep. And fall asleep she did—a rather fitful, restless sleep.