by Tessa Afshar
PRAISE FOR TESSA AFSHAR
DAUGHTER OF ROME
“With meticulous research and a vividly detailed narrative style, Daughter of Rome . . . is both an emotive biblical love story and an inherently fascinating journey through the world of first-century Rome and the city of Corinth.”
MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW
“This is a lovely slow-burning, faith-filled exploration about overcoming trials and accepting past mistakes.”
HISTORICAL NOVELS REVIEW
“Afshar brings in a thoughtful consideration of whether or not there are behaviors that cannot ever be forgiven, and her intricate biblical setting will engross readers. This is [her] strongest, most complex scripture-based story yet.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“Tessa Afshar inhabits the world of early Christians with refreshing clarity. From life under the threat of persecution to domestic details and her characters’ innermost thoughts, she makes early Christianity spark.”
FOREWORD REVIEWS
“Tessa Afshar has the rare gift of seamlessly blending impeccable historical research and theological depth with lyrical prose and engaging characters.”
SHARON GARLOUGH BROWN, author of the Sensible Shoes series
“Tessa Afshar’s ability to transport readers into the culture and characters of the biblical novels is extraordinary. . . . Daughter of Rome is a feast for your imagination as well as balm for your soul.”
ROBIN JONES GUNN, bestselling author of Becoming Us
THIEF OF CORINTH
“Afshar again shows her amazing talent for packing action and intrigue into the biblical setting for modern readers.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, starred review
“Lyrical . . . [with] superb momentum, exhilarating scenes, and moving themes of love and determination. . . . Afshar brings to life the gripping tale of one woman’s struggle to choose between rebellion and love.”
BOOKLIST
“Afshar’s well-drawn characters and lushly detailed setting vividly bring to life the ancient world of the Bible. A solid choice for fans of Francine Rivers and Bodie and Brock Thoene.”
LIBRARY JOURNAL
BREAD OF ANGELS
“Afshar continues to demonstrate an exquisite ability to bring the women of the Bible to life, this time shining a light on Lydia, the seller of purple, and skillfully balancing fact with imagination.”
ROMANTIC TIMES
“Afshar has created an unforgettable story of dedication, betrayal, and redemption that culminates in a rich testament to God’s mercies and miracles.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“With sublime writing and solid research, [Afshar] captures the distinctive experience of living at a time when Christianity was in its fledgling stages.”
LIBRARY JOURNAL
“Readers who enjoy Francine Rivers’s Lineage of Grace series will love this stand-alone book.”
CHRISTIAN MARKET
“With its resourceful, resilient heroine and vibrant narrative, Bread of Angels offers an engrossing new look at a mysterious woman of faith.”
FOREWORD MAGAZINE
LAND OF SILENCE
“Readers will be moved by Elianna’s faith, and Afshar’s elegant evocation of biblical life will keep them spellbound. An excellent choice for fans of Francine Rivers’s historical fiction and those who read for character.”
LIBRARY JOURNAL
“Fans of biblical fiction will enjoy an absorbing and well-researched chariot ride.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“In perhaps her best novel to date, Afshar . . . grants a familiar [biblical] character not only a name, but also a poignant history to which many modern readers can relate. The wit, the romance, and the humanity make Elianna’s journey uplifting as well as soul touching.”
ROMANTIC TIMES, TOP PICK REVIEW
“Heartache and healing blend beautifully in this gem among Christian fiction.”
CBA RETAILERS + RESOURCES
“An impressively crafted, inherently appealing, consistently engaging, and compelling read from first page to last, Land of Silence is enthusiastically recommended for community library historical fiction collections.”
MIDWEST BOOK REVIEWS
“This captivating story of love, loss, faith, and hope gives a realistic glimpse of what life might have been like in ancient Palestine.”
WORLD MAGAZINE
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Jewel of the Nile
Copyright © 2021 by Tessa Afshar. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration of woman copyright © Shane Rebenschied. All rights reserved.
Inspirational comp photograph of woman copyright © David Paire/Arcangel.com. All rights reserved.
Interior illustrations of maps by Libby Dykstra. Copyright © Tyndale House Ministries. All rights reserved.
Designed by Mark Anthony Lane II and Libby Dykstra
Edited by Kathryn S. Olson
Published in association with the literary agency of Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409.
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version,® NIV.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Jewel of the Nile is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-855-277-9400.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Afshar, Tessa, author.
Title: Jewel of the nile / Tessa Afshar.
Description: Carol Stream, Illinois : Tyndale House Publishers, [2021]
Identifiers: LCCN 2021006524 (print) | LCCN 2021006525 (ebook) | ISBN 9781496428752 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781496428769 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781496428776 (kindle edition) | ISBN 9781496428783 (epub) | ISBN 9781496428790 (epub)
Subjects: GSAFD: Historical fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3601.F47 J49 2021 (print) | LCC PS3601.F47 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021006524
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021006525
ISBN 978-1-4964-2878-3 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-4964-2877-6 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-4964-2879-0 (Apple)
Build: 2021-05-07 11:03:21 EPUB 3.0
For Ariana:
Bright, funny, gorgeous, persevering.
My precious niece,
you will always be a jewel in my heart.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding,
Which must be curbed with bit and bridle.
PSALM 32:8-9
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
>
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Preview of Thief of Corinth
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Cush shall hasten to stretch out her hands to God.
PSALM 68:31
AD 31
He took one last aching look outside the crumbling window; the Nile was molten gold in the light of the rising sun, a sparkling coil winding its way into the horizon. Forcing himself to turn away, he came to kneel by the pallet where his bride lay sleeping. To have this woman, he would have to give up the lush beauty of his land, give up his family and heritage. He smiled. She was worth all the loss. For his sake, she had given up as much and more.
“Time to wake up, love.”
She groaned something incoherent, more asleep than awake.
“Come now, lazy. Open those enchanting sea-green eyes. We can’t linger here. They will have discovered our absence by now.”
He spoke in a light tone, making sure none of his mounting anxiety leaked into his voice. Still, the reminder of their vulnerability was enough to banish the last vestiges of her sleep. She snapped her eyes open and sat up in one smooth motion, holding the sheet to her throat. “How long have we been here?”
“Too long.” He motioned to the window. “The sun is rising.”
She turned to place a hand on his cheek. “I love you, Husband.”
For an infinitesimal moment, time stood still, fears banished, their pursuers vanished, and it was just the two of them in the whole expanse of this world. Her complexion so impossibly fair resting against his dark skin, a weaving of two beautiful threads into one exotic tapestry. His chest welled up with joy and he leaned to kiss her softly. It seemed astonishing that she was his, truly and irrevocably his.
“I love you, Gemina.” He said the words in Latin, the language of her birth, the language of her heart. And then broke the spell by pulling away to grab his cloak. They could not afford to remain at the dilapidated inn for another moment.
“I will settle our account with the innkeeper while you dress,” he said, already pulling open the door.
He paid the surly landlord an extra coin, a fat silver one that made the bloodshot eyes widen. “For your discretion,” he said.
Unsmiling, the man pocketed the coins in a dirty purse and went to fetch their camels.
He turned to look into the horizon. His chest tightened at the sight of a band of riders, approaching fast from the south. Shading his eyes against the piercing sun, he squinted for a better view. Seven, he counted. No, eight. The camels were moving in long, smooth strides, their hooves spraying dust as they pounded the track.
His throat turned dry. They could be traders, he told himself. Merchants. Travelers making their way to Egypt. A dozen different possibilities, none of them menacing. Then he saw the flash of metal strapped to the riders’ sides. Swords. He raced up the stairs that led to their room. Gemina was already exiting the chamber. Without a word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him down the stairs.
“What?” she asked, breathless.
“Riders.”
“How far?”
“At the rate they are traveling, not far enough. They’ll be here soon.”
They came to a stop at the edge of the inn’s back wall where they could not be spotted from the road. The innkeeper had brought out the camels from their pen but had not bothered to saddle them in spite of his instructions.
He should have fetched the camels sooner, he thought, berating himself for a fool as he started to saddle the first beast.
Their landlord made no move to help. Instead, striding to the middle of the dirt road, he gazed into the distance. Spotting the approaching riders, he shook his head and spat into the dirt. “I knew when I clapped my eyes on you that you would bring trouble to my door.”
Ignoring the innkeeper, he cinched the first saddle. He plucked a rough woolen cape out of a saddlebag and threw it to Gemina, hurriedly donning a similar garment himself.
“Pull it up over your hair,” he instructed. Garbed in the fraying cotton, from the back at least, they should look like two old nomads.
His heart sank as he saddled the second camel, noting the dirt that still clung to its haunches. Clearly, the innkeeper had not bothered to rub down the beast. He threw the man a narrowed look and received a sneer in return. There was no time for an altercation. He shoved away his irritation and completed the task before him with agile fingers. He could only hope that the innkeeper had fed and watered the animals. Riding dirty camels was one thing. But riding hungry, thirsting beasts when pursued by fast, armed men . . . Sweat drenched his back in the cool morning air.
He should have seen to the camels himself. Instead, drunk on love, he had retired inside with his bride, leaving the work to a sullen stranger.
He pulled on the camel’s neck to make it kneel. “Come,” he said to Gemina. She approached timidly, unused to the dromedary. Encircling her waist with his hands, he lifted her into the saddle.
“We’ll be traveling fast. Hold tight.”
She nodded, looking pale. He gave her a reassuring smile before climbing his own beast. Using his stick, he prodded the camels into a trot, before urging them to gallop. The beasts lengthened their strides, their hard humps making for an uncomfortable trek. A fast camel ride felt nothing like the thrill of a horse race. It made your teeth rattle and your brain jar.
He cut across the rough track and made for the pale green river. The queen’s men who shadowed them would not anticipate them crossing the Nile. Their pursuers would expect him to push north for the safety of Egypt. Or east for the traders who could help them navigate the desert in order to reach the lands beyond the Red Sea. He hoped that the nomads’ cloaks they had donned along with their unexpected heading might fool the guards into giving up the chase. Might convince them that they were not the two lovesick runaways who had braved a queen’s wrath to be together. He pushed the camels harder toward the river. The riders were gaining behind them.
As they drew close to the banks of the river, three of the riders peeled away from the rest and veered behind them. Three was better than eight. Three, he might be able to deal with, even though they were the Kandake’s own guards. At least she hadn’t sent Roman centurions after them.
He urged the camels on, noticing that they were already waning in speed. No matter. They did not have far to go. He led them to a deserted spot in the river’s verdant shore and brought the camels to a stop. Hastily, he helped Gemina down and grabbed one of the saddlebags, leaving the other on the camel. He spared a look over his shoulder.
His breath hitched when, in the distance, he saw the other five riders swerve from the inn and follow in their wake. They must have spoken to the landlord. His silver had failed to buy the man’s silence.
All his hopes for a stealthy getaway shattered in one crashing heap.
“To the boat!” he cried.
“But my clothes are in the other bag.”
“No time, Gemina. Run!”
He grabbed her hand, helping her over the rushes and down the embankment. Water squished into his leather sandals and over his ankles. He wasted
precious moments uncovering the skiff, which he had hidden under large palm fronds. Helping Gemina inside, he shoved the boat into deeper water and leapt in behind her.
“Stop!” a voice roared too close. “Stop or die!”
He grabbed the oars from the bottom of the boat and began pulling with all his strength. A hissing sound whistled by his ear, then another.
“Gods! They are shooting arrows at us!” Gemina gasped.
He shoved her head with one hand until she lay facedown on the papyrus reeds, his other still pulling frantically at the oar. The skiff was too modest to have a cabin where he could hide her. Cush was famed for its swift acacia-wood barges, but for this trip he had needed secrecy, not luxury, and had settled on a simple Egyptian fishing skiff.
“Keep down,” he said as another iron-tipped arrow flew by his head. He was fairly certain the Kandake’s soldiers were not aiming to kill them. Certainly not Gemina, anyway. He pulled harder on the oars, propelling the little boat against the drag of the wind that wanted to drive them south.
He might have lost the advantage of secrecy. But he still had a few winning tricks up his sleeve. It would take time for the guards to secure a boat with which to pursue them. He had purposely hidden his skiff far from any fishing villages where boats could be acquired with ease. And on the other side of the river, he had arranged for his own Libyan guide, a half nomad who knew all the hidden alleyways that would bring them into Egypt undetected.
The Nile spread wide here, and it cost him a long fight against the currents to get to the middle of the river. But it was far enough to keep them out of range of the arrows. A quick glance over his shoulder showed eight men standing on the shores of the east bank, staring after him, bows and arrows hanging uselessly from their limp arms. His chest expanded with the joy of victory.
“They have given up,” he told Gemina, grinning. “We are safe.”
But the relief proved short-lived.
He glanced back again, brows furrowing. Why were the guards so still? They should be scrambling to find a boat. They should be in desperate pursuit. The Kandake did not put up with failure. Why tarry passively by the river? Were they hoping he would simply drown? A fist twisted inside his stomach. Something smelled fishier than the Nile. Frantically, his eyes skimmed over the papyrus reeds of the little skiff. Had they found his boat beforehand and damaged it? It seemed sound enough. Surely, if they had punctured a hole somewhere, the water would have bubbled up by now?
