“And will it be longer still until all of our group shall be in attendance?” Fadil asked. He was eager to know who else may have been recruited to their small faction.
“Yes,” Sefu said, eyes narrowing, sensing Fadil's ulterior motives, “it is not safe right now for us to meet. We are suspected by many and our best advantage is our anonymity.”
“You don't truly think the other members of the mob would betray us to Pharaoh, do you?” Nassor asked, nervous energy causing him to wring his hands. Nassor thought over how the mob reacted to the ideals that were the foundation of this group, how repulsed they were by radicals.
“I cannot be sure of anything if they do not agree with what we are doing.” The comment slipped out. It was obvious that Sefu was annoyed with pulling punches for Nassor's sake. Yes, Nassor knew that Sefu was growing tired of reassuring him every step of the way and assuaging his every concern.
“Whatever we are doing is not accomplishing much!” Gahiji spoke up. It was his contact at greatest risk after all.
“Do not be so certain,” Sefu countered. “I have it on good authority that we are rattling cages. So now is the time to push them a little further. All the more now that the mob has gotten involved with the other Greek families in the area. This is the perfect time to be bold, to be brazen. We can disguise our efforts as theirs.”
“What did you have in mind?” Fadil asked, a crooked smile on his face.
“It needs to be something quite personal to her. Quite painful for her,” Sefu said, his words deliberate, a slow smile breaking out across his face.
“Painful? Are we going to harm her?” Nassor said, concerned.
Sefu swore. “No, I meant significant. We're not going to kill anyone.”
Nassor questioned whether Sefu would cast him in the role of proxy if he had it to do over again. Would he have even recruited him for this sect? His irritation with Nassor seemed to grow with each passing second.
“I think I know of a weakness. Something significant to her,” Gahiji said.
Ah, Gahiji, now there was someone who wouldn't let him down.
“I hoped you would.” Sefu smiled. “Tell me,” he sneered, “what you know.”
* * *
Alistair and Ismene approached the palace of Pharoah Ptolemy II. Dressed in their best linens, they were to be the honored guests at Queen Arsinoe's banquet to honor the victory of Pharaoh's army. Ismene was thrilled. She couldn't be more pleased with Alistair and his success. She had been coached about this evening's affair. While it was true that they were guests of honor, this evening was meant to honor Pharaoh. This whole thing would be treated as if the victory belonged to Pharaoh only. And, as much as Ismene did not like it, this was the way things were, so she'd had to come to a place of acceptance for Alistair's sake.
The main entrance to the palace was fast approaching. Ismene wrapped an arm around Alistair's. Turning toward her, he offered her a quick smile as he slowed the horses. They dismounted from their chariot at the entrance.
“You seem nervous,” Alistair commented, taking Ismene's hand to help her down.
Her eyes met his. “I am...a little,” she admitted. “This will be my first political function as your wife and I want to make you proud.”
Now that she was down on the ground, he pulled on her hand, drawing her closer to himself. “Do not worry so. I am well pleased with you. And quite proud to have the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt on my arm tonight.”
Ismene felt her face warm at the compliment. She managed a smile for him, though she had no response.
“Ready now?” he asked, their faces so close he needed only to whisper.
“Um-hmm,” she muttered, intoxicated by his closeness. She wondered if he would kiss her here in front of all these servants and arriving noblemen and noblewomen, but he did not. After several breaths passed, he pulled away and offered the crook of his arm to her. Turning her body in the direction of the entrance, she slid her hand onto his arm.
They made their way into the palace and then toward the banquet hall. The palace had always been a grand sight to behold, but today it was all the more amazing. The queen had spared no expense in preparing the hall for this party. There were lights, flowers, music, food, and crowds of celebrating people. It reminded Ismene of her engagement party, albeit this was a much grander event. That was the last time she had been in this room. Had it truly been so long ago? So much had changed. Things had seemed so bleak that day. Now her life was full of hope and promise. A life with Alistair.
They were announced as they came into the hall. No sooner had they set foot into the banquet space than they were set upon by hordes of people, or so it seemed to Ismene. Most of the people who came to greet them were the men in the higher military ranks who served with Alistair. She was pleased to meet them, but everyone was all too eager to speak with Alistair about one thing or another. Usually some talk of war.
It wasn't long into the conversations of the evening before she tired of talk of battles and politics. This did not escape Alistair. He could sense in his beloved that she was a sensitive soul and too much of the bragging of bloodshed became offensive to her sensitivities. Alistair excused them from a conversation with one of his captains, a man who was particularly overzealous, when he could see Ismene becoming a little queasy.
“I think it's time we stepped out for some fresh air.” He took her arm.
Smiling in gratitude, she allowed him to steer her toward the entrance to the gardens.
At that moment, one of Pharaoh's advisers interrupted their exit.
“Pharaoh is having a discussion with Captain Ptah about a particular maneuver you utilized in battle and wishes you to join them.”
Alistair glanced between the adviser and Ismene. “My wife and I were just stepping out for a minute. I'll be back soon.”
Ismene sensed that he didn't want to put Pharaoh off, but that he didn't want to be guilty of choosing him over her needs either.
“General, I will be fine. Please, allow me to enjoy the gardens in solitude. These plants and I are old friends.”
“Are you certain?” he asked in earnest.
“Of course. Our great Pharaoh calls,” she said, smiling.
He pressed a kiss to the side of her face as they parted ways; he moved toward the heat of the party, she moved away from it.
Ismene headed out to the balcony overlooking the gardens she had fallen in love with those months before. If she were able to see through the thick underbrush, she could look into the room she had occupied back then. But it was overgrown in that area to afford those guests privacy from this vantage point. Instead, she gazed up at the stars and enjoyed the feel of the breeze sweeping over the tops of the palms.
“Not much for government and politics, lady?”
She spun around to see Meleager, Pharaoh’s brother, watching her from the shadows.
“No, not this evening.” She attempted a smile, though she didn’t feel cordial toward him. His reputation preceded him. Both Alistair's lack of respect for the man and the general distaste the other noblewomen reported from their encounters with him left her unsure she wanted to encourage further conversation.
Moving out of the shadows, he walked over to where she was by the railing. “I always have mixed feelings about having more Greeks in Egypt.”
He watched her. Was he wanting a reaction? She kept her features neutral, unchanging, and shifted her gaze back out over the gardens.
“I am every bit the Greek you are,” he continued, “but Egypt is my home and I have always known it to be so. All Greece is to me is a bunch of stories.”
She didn’t turn back toward him. There was a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Do you miss Greece?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “Yes, Egypt is wild and untamed. Greece is refined and elegant.”
“Yes, I can see that.” His voice was deeper in that moment. “I regret that Egypt has yet to produce such beauty
as we have received from Greece.”
That got her attention. She shifted to look up at him. His eyes bore into her. Fighting the shiver that started between her shoulder blades and ran down her spine, she took a step back.
“I thank you for your kind words, but surely you exaggerate...”
He stepped toward her, “Egyptian women are roughened by the sand and sun, but you...your skin is soft and smooth...like silk.” He ran the back of his hand down her arm.
She pulled away and backed into a bench, falling to a seated position. “Please, Prince, let me be. You are making me uncomfortable.”
He leaned over her as he continued his musings. “Full hair, deep eyes...”
“Please,” she repeated as she tried to scoot away, but his body was trapping her. “I should return to my...”
He pressed closer. “I think you should stay right where you are. We are just getting acquainted.”
“And I think you should let the lady go before I am forced to remove you myself.”
Meleager jerked his head to see behind himself and Ismene peered around him, relieved to see Alistair. He was standing, almost stoic, but his eyes were alive with murderous intent.
Alistair gave him no time to make a decision before he was upon them and Meleager almost didn't have time to move away. He pulled Ismene into his arms and stepped into the newly formed gap between Ismene and the prince.
“Ismene, are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Alistair spoke to her, but his eyes were leveled on Meleager, staring him down.
She shook her head.
Turning his body halfway around toward Meleager, Alistair puffed out his chest. His face was stern. Meleager, for his part, tried to retain some semblance of pride in his stance. He stood firm where he was, but his shoulders, slumped slightly, betrayed his nervousness.
“I suggest you think twice before you approach my wife again for any reason.”
Meleager just stared back at Alistair. “And might I suggest you watch your words, sir. You are bold to threaten a prince of Egypt.”
Alistair met the unspoken challenge with his own. “Don’t make this the time and place we do this. I would hate for that display to take the last shred of dignity you have.”
Meleager glared at Alistair for only a handful of seconds before he backed down, moving away and slipping back into the house.
Turning back toward his wife, Alistair embraced her fully. Then he pulled back, still gripping her forearms, so he could look her over to confirm that she indeed was untouched. Satisfied that there was no physical injury, his eyes sought and searched hers. He cupped her face with his hand.
“I’m all right, only a little shaken—thanks to you. I’m afraid to think of what might have happened had you not shown up.”
He pulled her into his arms again. “Me too, my love. Me too.”
They held each other for a time, taking comfort in the stillness of the moment.
“Ismene, I must take better care to protect you. I should have gone with you. I’m sorry.”
“No, I told you I would be fine. I never thought there would be so much danger here in Pharaoh’s palace.”
“I know. Now you know that evil lurks everywhere.”
She nodded against his chest.
“Especially when there is such a prize at stake, my love. I have so much to lose if anything happened to you.”
“General,” a voice called from behind Alistair. It was Captain Ptah. “You have found the Lady Ismene?”
“Yes, thank you. Would you please inform Pharaoh Ptolemy that I will be taking the Lady Ismene home to retire. Tell him that we are quite worn and convey my sincerest apologies.”
Captain Ptah nodded and went to his task.
* * *
It was late at night, and the members of the mob were filing into the meeting room in silence. Many of them wore hooded robes or other garments to try and hide their features, which was not surprising to anyone. There were many who were happy to see each other because they didn't get to meet at any venue other than this, but the whole atmosphere was dull and subdued. Tarik brought the meeting to order as he stood up at the front of the group and started speaking.
“We have more recruits who have seen the vileness that the Greeks bring to our lands. Our strength grows.” The similar sense of agreement at the last meeting was again felt this time. It was always good to hear at each meeting that they were growing, though nobody had actually counted the number who were in the room and compared it to previous meetings.
“We have started our campaign to let these rich Greeks know that they are not wanted here. But don't forget, we are still a small group. Do not do something idiotic that will expose us. If our Greek rulers find out that we are behind these attacks, we would all be drawn and quartered in the desert.” Again, Tarik jabbered on with his usual need for secrecy.
“Our attacks?” Sefu shouted out. “You call ruining some of their food and turning their horses out for a run in the fields an attack? What are we going to do next? Dump sand in their beds?” Sefu was exhibiting his usual disgust with this group's lack of true action.
Nassor was chuckling in agreement with Sefu, but when he saw Tarik's reaction, it seemed a little off. He had expected to see the man's anger rise with Sefu's typical insubordination, but their eyes seemed to be clinched together, like they were having a conversation. A slight grin seemed to spread on Tarik's face, and Sefu had a smirk of his own. What was that?
“You are out of order,” Tarik said. “What would you have us do, Sefu, slit their throats in the night?”
Sefu scowled at that comment. “Come now, that is ridiculous.”
They continued this back-and-forth for a short time. Everyone followed the interchange with baited breath, waiting to see who would dominate the exchange and take charge. There were no elected officials here; Tarik's leadership was loosely held. People had accepted him because he had stepped forward when they needed someone most. He had promised them action and shown strength greater than their previous leader. It wasn't long before Tarik took the upper hand in the interchange and insisted they move on to the next item of business.
Nassor agreed that these attacks didn't seem like much of a disruption and felt that his and Sefu's methods were much more effective at sending a signal for the Greeks to get out. But that gaze Tarik held on Sefu…when Nassor had first seen it, he'd thought it was connected to the constant bickering between those two. He had assumed Tarik wanted to toss Sefu out on his ear but couldn't. Tarik's gaze seemed to connote that. But at these latest meetings, since their radical group had started launching real attacks, the connection between Sefu and Tarik seemed a lot more mysterious. Was Tarik the one who had hired Sefu? Is this the reason the mob's attacks were so pathetic? He started to wonder if this constant arguing was just an act.
Nassor didn't know how to find an answer to this. There's no use in asking Sefu. He hasn't told me yet, so why now? But deep down, Nassor wanted to know who they were working for. His endless sense of uncertainty and need for direction made him nervous, always hoping that more details would give him more confidence.
The meeting broke and everyone parted company, sneaking back to their estates. As Sefu and Nassor left together, Sefu balked out loud, “I can't believe they actually decided to put sand in everyone’s beds. This group is going downhill fast.”
Nassor let Sefu bluster as he always did after these meetings. He was only listening with one ear as he rolled back and forth his thoughts about Tarik.
* * *
Ismene had been bathed at once upon their return home from Pharaoh's party. Alonah was finishing their night routine when there was a knock at the door.
Alonah went to receive the caller, but they both knew who it was. Opening the door confirmed it—the master of the house. He had become a regular fixture around Ismene's bedchambers during the hours he was home.
“Please, come in.” She bowed.
He nodded. “Is the Lady Ismene able to re
ceive me?”
“Yes, I shall tell her that you have requested her company,” Alonah said before disappearing into the bedchambers. Mere seconds later, Ismene appeared through the door, Alonah close behind her.
Alonah nodded her farewell and took her leave of them.
Once they were alone, Alistair gathered Ismene into his arms. “Love, are you truly all right?”
“I am.” She sighed, closing her eyes and just breathing in the scent of him. “Now.”
He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. When he closed his eyes he could still see the scene that he had come upon when he had found her on the balcony, and his blood ran hot. He forced his mind back to the present.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Truly?”
“I thought I might read to you.”
“Oh?” She pulled back to look into his face. “That is a pleasant surprise. I think, sir, that you have found my weakness.”
“I think you know mine too, milady.” He said, drawing her in for an intimate kiss.
When they parted, he moved her farther into her room.
“To bed with you,” he commanded, giving her a little push toward the bed.
He tucked her in, letting his hand cup her face and his thumb stroke her cheek before pressing another kiss to her lips.
“Now, lie back and let me pick up where we left off,” he said, taking a stool closest to the bed and pulling it over closer to her.
She lay back. “If you can remember where that was. As I recall, you fell asleep the last time we were in this book together.”
“Hmm...” he mused. “I'll just pick up...” He opened the book, preparing to select a random chapter to start at, but was startled by what he found and was not able to hide it from Ismene.
As he opened the book, Ismene's tiger lilies, now little more than mulch, had fallen from the pages. And there were gashes in the pages of her book. Her hands flew to her mouth and she let out a loud cry. In one motion, Alistair set the book down and slid onto the bed, gathering Ismene in his arms once again. He held her to himself, soothing her, trying to calm her. She was crying now, sobbing uncontrollably.
The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt) Page 13
