The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Alistair's anger fueled his response. “We are not going anywhere.”

  He was hit again from behind.

  “Please, just tell me where she is!” he managed to say, exasperated.

  “General, we do not have the Lady Ismene,” Neterka said.

  Alistair’s look was confused and skeptical.

  “Sir, I know you’re not inclined to trust me at this moment, but I tell you I speak the truth. Regardless of my feelings on the rule of Egypt, you must know that I could never have been a willing part of harming the Lady Ismene. Do you want to stand here, wasting time accusing us, or do you want to go out there and continue looking for who might have done this thing?”

  Fourteen

  To the Death

  Ismene eyed her captor as he entered the room and took a seat across from her. It was difficult to hide her shock and revulsion. She fought off another coughing fit, but it was useless; her body was racked with coughs.

  “Well, Lady Ismene, I trust you find your accommodations acceptable?” the man started.

  She looked away, not wanting to offer him the pleasure of a response, even as much as she wanted to snap back at his words in anger.

  “Come now. I hope our relationship is not to be full of hate and silence.” His voice was smooth, but snake-like in her ears.

  She shifted to meet his eyes. “Why have you done this, Prince Meleager?” Her words didn't have the edge she wanted them to as her voice had gotten weak.

  “My dear lady, I do not want to weigh down your female mind with such heavy thoughts,” Meleager jeered.

  “Prince Meleager, as a daughter of privilege, I was trained in academics and logic along with my brothers, who were provided with the finest of Grecian scholars. Humor me,” she retorted.

  His eyebrows rose.

  She could have kicked herself for allowing herself to be irritated by him.

  He continued to eye her as if she were his next meal.

  “Why? Why would you do this? Is your life not satisfactory to you?” The bitterness was evident in her voice, now knowing he intended to betray his own brother.

  “Not when I could have everything! And who does Pharaoh love? On whom does his favor rest? His general...over his own brother.”

  “Is that why you’ve taken me? To hurt Alistair?”

  “You know, I didn't expect him to run just because some animal blood was used to write an inflammatory statement on his house. No, that was just to kick things off. Shredding the sheets of your bed and destroying your precious flowers should have made it clear that you were the means to strike fear into his heart.” The prince was gloating with a diabolic tone of voice. It was as if he wanted this all captured for posterity.

  Ismene started remembering the stories of the pharaoh of ancient times told by the Jewish scholars. She was visualizing the prince as this exact kind of man: evil, brutal, and with a heart as cold as stone. She had debated so many times in her own mind whether these stories were true or not. For the first time, she felt an undeniable belief that they were.

  The prince continued his self-aggrandizing rant. “Making you sick almost to the point of death should have done the trick. And by the way, I believe congratulations are in order. I couldn't have asked for a more fortuitous circumstance. Morning sickness combined with the poison should have been enough to scare any sane man to run away with his bride. But no, it seems he was willing to gamble with your life.”

  As Meleager uttered these last words, he turned to walk out of the small cell. Ismene realized that this was not part of his original plan. She feared what his mad thirst for power would lead him to do. It seemed it wasn't his intention to kill her at first, but now that his plan had gone awry, there was no predicting where things would go.

  “Jehovah!” Ismene prayed silently, hoping Alistair would find her before it was too late.

  “Huh?” The prince spun around.

  Ismene hadn't realized that her utterance of the Jewish God's name was audible.

  “There was once a pharaoh of ancient times who was merciless against the slaves of this land. Do you know what happened to him? His firstborn child was slain. His entire army drowned in the sea. His cruel desires reaped nothing but death and destruction for him. Perhaps your fate shall be the same,” Ismene said with bold confidence.

  * * *

  Prince Meleager backhanded Ismene with a force he had never shown before. She fell back, knocked out cold. The rage that welled up within him was stronger than he had ever felt. How dare this woman threaten him. He was a prince of Egypt and she was but the wife of an overrated, puffed-up military commander who was in need of being taken down a peg or two. And I'm the man to do it, he thought. And I'm going to enjoy it.

  * * *

  The members of the mob had released Alistair only after blindfolding him and leading him out into the desert. At least they had left him his horse. He returned to his home, dejected and discouraged. Two leads had come to nothing today. Night had fallen and Ismene was out there somewhere probably suffering...because of him. And there was nothing he could do about it. He had but one more lead, albeit a weak one—Akil.

  Alistair handed the reigns of his horse to the stable boy and walked into the house. He passed Ismene's room and stopped to check on Alonah. She was sitting up, talking excitedly to Jabari. Making a move to walk on, he decided to give them their privacy.

  “General!” Jabari called after him. “I have been looking everywhere for you!”

  “Oh?” Alistair had not the time nor the patience to suffer flights of fancy.

  Jabari stood and closed the distance between him and the general with a few long strides. “I know where the Lady Ismene is being held.”

  “What?” Had he heard the soldier correctly?

  “A man gave this to me.” He handed Alistair a slip of crumpled paper. “I think he died trying to get it to you.”

  Alistair examined the paper. The paper detailed directions to a place in the middle of the desert—a smart place, indeed, to set up a hidden fortress and keep concealed something as precious as a general's wife.

  “Let us go at once!” Alistair moved back toward the stables, Jabari on his heels.

  Once they arrived at the stable and the boy rushed off to saddle Alistair's horse, Alistair caught Jabari's eyes.

  “I will ride on ahead. You round up Captain Ptah and his unit to meet me there.”

  Jabari stopped short. “You're going on your own?”

  “Yes, but you will all be there soon after me if you hurry.”

  The stable boy brought Alistair his horse. Grabbing the saddle, Alistair mounted.

  Jabari raised his fist to his chest, bowing toward his general, indicating that he would do as he had been commanded. With that, Alistair dug his heels in and the horse took off.

  Alistair did not look back, driving the horse ever forward. Every step of the way, he tried to weigh every decision with the precision of a military commander. He knew that if he got there before his men caught up with him, there might be little he could do for Ismene, or worse, he might be ambushed and killed.

  It wasn't that he feared death. No, that had faded long ago after carrying out countless military campaigns for his pharaoh. But the thought of his Ismene and their child surviving but not him left him with a cold fear he had never expected. He could now see that what he used to brush off as careless daydreaming about his bride had become committed love for his wife and unborn child. The thought of not being able to see to their every need for the rest of their lives scared him.

  In this moment of crisis, everything was clear. Though there was a wall between them, he would go to any length to break it down so they could be rejoined. He didn't care if she agreed or not. What Alistair felt for his Ismene was not based on how she felt about him, but instead on true love and a strong feeling of commitment. She was his wife.

  Alistair's mind was sifting through the options he could take. He figured the time it would take to rouse Captain Pt
ah and the rest of his troops, followed by saddling horses and catching up to him. In that amount of time, Alistair estimated he would reach the location, just a few miles outside the city, and gather enough information to mount a rescue.

  He reviewed all of this with calm precision as he rode in the dark night. Then he stared up at the stars and saw the shape of Diana. Praying to whatever deity that would listen, he hoped that Ismene looked upon the same stars as well and that they would be linked together again.

  After almost an hour of riding hard, Alistair approached the mouth of the cave system that was described on the scrawl of paper a man had died to bring him. He stopped several hundred feet away, and tied up his horse. Proceeding on foot, he began looking and listening for any hints of movement. As he approached, he noticed some flickers in the moonlight and discerned that two men were standing watch over the cave entrance. Alistair's eyes swept the rest of the area, and seeing nothing, he started to circle around.

  That's when he found the body. It was clear the man had been struck down by an arrow, and not that long ago. There was still warmth in his body. As Alistair came closer, he saw movement. The man was still alive!

  Alistair gently maneuvered the man to lay on his side. Though his face was bloody, Alistair could identify him as Ismene's evening rendezvous in the palace gardens. He pushed the emotions that swelled to the surface down. It was no matter—this man might have information that may help him.

  The man's eyes sought Alistair's face. There was a glint of recognition there.

  “I'm going to pull this arrow through. It will hurt,” Alistair said without ceremony.

  The man nodded as much as he could manage.

  Alistair tore off pieces of his clothing to staunch the wound on both sides and jerked the arrow through. Then he was able to move the man to his back. It was clear to Alistair that his injuries were not limited to the bruised face and the arrow puncture.

  “I'm not going to make it,” the man said.

  Alistair nodded, eyebrows furrowed. He would not dishonor the man by contradicting him.

  “You have to save her.” The man's plea was earnest.

  Alistair nodded again. “Where is she?”

  He listened as the man, with ragged breath, described a twisting path through the cave to get to Ismene. It became difficult for the man to breathe. Alistair knew that blood from internal injuries filled his lungs. He wished he could make him more comfortable. Even though he would say this man had wronged him, he didn't wish this death on anyone. Especially since this man may well have given him the key to saving his wife.

  “Thank you.” Alistair offered the only thing he had to give to this young man who had risked everything in an attempt to free Ismene.

  “She...” he tried.

  “Please, don't push yourself to talk further. It will only make it worse.” Alistair pressed a hand to the man's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

  The man shook his head. It was a slight movement.

  “She didn't betray you,” he managed to get out.

  Alistair met his eyes then. “I know.”

  The man, pleased that he had accomplished all that he had held on for, closed his eyes and let his life slip away into eternity.

  Alistair stayed with this man who had been so important to his wife in her early life until he was gone. Then Alistair removed his own cloak and laid it over the man. He wished that he could have taken the time to honor him with a proper burial, but he knew he must get on with his mission. Wiping his brow, Alistair promised to come back for him.

  Shifting his attention back toward the guards overhead and to the right, Alistair began to form a plan. He crept up behind the first man positioned to guard the entrance. Drawing his dagger, he grabbed the sentry, and thrust his blade into his back before the man could utter a sound. Letting the body fall to the ground, he moved around the opening of the cave until he was behind the second guard. In one quick movement, Alistair grabbed him and held the blade against the man's neck. From Thelopolis's verbal map, he knew where Ismene's quarters were, but he needed to assure himself that she hadn't been moved.

  “Where is the Lady Ismene?” His voice was calm, quiet. The man started to reach for his sword. Alistair's grip tightened.

  “I wouldn't try that. Now where is the Lady Ismene?”

  “I...I...”

  Alistair, realizing the man couldn't speak, loosened the blade slightly.

  “Inside the caves. Take the first left.”

  That was the first turn Thelopolis had told him to take. He looked down into the cave. “It's dark in there.”

  “There is a torch inside the entrance,” the guard choked out.

  “You have been useful. I may plead for Pharaoh to spare your life.” Alistair then knocked the man out with the pommel of his dagger, and tied him up with a coil of rope he had brought.

  “Well, I may plead, I may not,” Alistair said to himself, still burning with anger at everyone who was involved with this plot to kidnap his Ismene. He climbed down to the entrance, and felt his way in. Farther into the cave, he found a lit torch and picked it up. The thought passed into his mind that he should wait for his troops, but as he wandered into the cave, he realized he couldn't stop now. Once he found a spare lamp, he lit it, and left it at the entrance to signal Captain Ptah.

  Yes, he knew it was foolish, but he simply could not wait for Captain Ptah. He had to proceed, knowing full well there could be more men waiting just around the next corner to ambush him. Alistair had served Pharaoh through many struggles and protected him and his empire in combat. But nothing felt as personal as this. Whether or not Captain Ptah would understand his reasoning in this situation didn't matter.

  Alistair made his way through the cave's twisting tunnels until he reached what had been described to him as Ismene's cell. It took little effort to get past the makeshift door. And there she was, lying haphazardly on a mat on the floor. He was on his knees next to her in a heartbeat. She was still—too still. With gentle fingers, he touched her face. Her skin was cold, but she stirred in response to his fingers on her.

  He pulled her into his arms, fighting tears, not wanting her to see them.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She cursed the weakness that pervaded her body and dragged her heart.

  “No, don't try to speak. Just nod if you can hear me.” Alistair's voice was shakier than he'd expected.

  She nodded, sliding a hand up to rest on his. “Alistair...” she managed to speak at last.

  “Shh...”

  “Alistair, please be real.” She finished her thought out loud.

  “I am.” He stroked her hair. “And I’m here to take you from this place.”

  “Home,” she whispered.

  “Yes, home. To our home.” His voice was but a whisper.

  He felt her hand on his chest.

  “No, I am home.”

  Alistair looked at her, drinking in the sight of her, the depth of her eyes. He held her to himself, sure that he would never be able to let her go. Breathing in the scent of her, he reveled in the security of the depth of her loving embrace. His lips grazed her hair, the side of her face, and then touched her lips. Using her hands, she drew his face back to her lips.

  After only a few brief moments, he forced himself to break off the contact, remembering what she had been through and how weak she was. One look at her confirmed for him that she was fighting to hide it.

  “Let me take you away from this place,” he said, reaching out his fingers to graze her features again.

  She nodded.

  He shifted her to lift her, but his hand stopped over her midsection. His eyes fell to where his hand rested over the swell there. Alistair looked at her tired smile as he imagined the child within. Her hand rested on his. Remembering his jealous words, he became saddened anew by how he had hurt her.

  Her eyes reflected the wear of her experience, but even still he could see her love and understanding forgivenes
s. She lifted her hand to cup his face and managed a smile for him. His lips caught hers once more.

  His face became more serious. “We need to get out of here, we're not safe yet.”

  Then he lifted her. She clung to him with what strength she had left.

  The trip back through the tunnels was less smooth. Their progress was halted when Ismene dropped their light and it snuffed out. She was weak and probably drugged, Alistair had decided. The main corridor had lights on the walls, but the passageway they were about to take was dark as night and they needed that light source. He sat her down so that he could get his hands free to attempt to relight it.

  “Alistair, something’s...” Her voice cut off.

  “Something is what, Ismene?” He concentrated on his work.

  She didn’t respond.

  He turned to check on her.

  There in front of him was Ismene, her back pressed up against Prince Meleager as if she were a body shield. He held a knife to her throat.

  “Well, well,” Prince Meleager said with a sneer. “The great General Merenre, commander of Pharaoh’s mighty army. A job that should have been mine.”

  “Pharaoh does not entrust his army and the protection of his kingdom to a traitor,” Alistair spat.

  “It is true that I have always been last among his concerns,” the prince spoke as if they were conversing over a pleasant meal. Then his voice darkened. “He loves you as a brother, and you enjoy the merit and favor that are rightfully mine!”

  “This is between you and me.” Alistair leaned forward, holding his hands out toward the prince. “Please allow the lady to go. You have me and that is what you wanted.”

  “The wife my brother secured for you. She should have been mine, too.” His stony gaze rested on Alistair. “But then, she has been mine.”

  Ismene’s eyes widened and she gasped in renouncement. Alistair’s eyes showed, only for a second, his surprise before they were serious again.