Warrior of the Nile (The Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  Lady Tiya flinched at the sound, a muscle twitching in her eyelid as she opened her eyes to stare at him. She bit her lower lip.

  He raised his bag to show her. “Where are your things, my lady?”

  “Oh, of course.” Going quickly to the other wall, she plucked the embroidered sack from the floor.

  What noblewoman travels the length of the Nile so unencumbered? Standing aside, Khenet gestured with one hand for her to precede him. Together they left the palace. Glancing back once as they moved away down the wide thoroughfare, he felt a sense of loss like a punch to the gut. Will I ever walk the palace halls again? See my adopted family once more in this life?

  Chapter Two

  He’s so tall, and muscular, every inch a warrior. So stern, yet handsome, in a rugged style. Not a polished courtier, certainly, especially not with that unusual tattoo swirling around his biceps. Tiya stole another glance at the man who strode beside her as they descended the long stairs to the street. I barely reach his shoulder and he must outweigh me by a hundred pounds. Those are impressive scars—he must have seen much combat. Pharaoh gave me a strong champion, capable. A member of his own special guard. They related to each other as friends, not soldier and commander, so this must be the adopted brother. She clutched her bag more closely as someone brushed past her. Disastrous to have a thief grab her few possessions, much less Pharaoh’s proclamation. Although, if one was fool enough to try, I’m sure this soldier would deal with him harshly.

  All the activity on the streets they passed through on their way to the riverfront claimed her attention. The hustle and bustle of Thebes was a familiar rhythm to her, soothing, and she mourned to think of life here going on without her. Her family and friends, too. This is the last time I’ll ever be here. Tiya choked on a sob as the reality of her situation broke through the icy calm she had tried so hard to maintain. I volunteered to serve the Great One as her mortal embodiment, and I’m going to die in the process. Best become accustomed to the idea. Tears blinded her and she stumbled.

  Instantly, a warm, callused hand settled under her elbow, keeping her upright and steering her over a rough patch in the road. He drew her to the side, out of the flow of pedestrians, shielding her from curious eyes with his broad shoulders. Raising his head, he glared at some of the people who showed a tendency to linger and the gawkers immediately scurried off. His deep voice sounded in her ear. “Are you all right?”

  Embarrassed to have let her nerves come to the surface, she pulled away from Captain Khenet’s helping hand and made a little business of adjusting the coral-and-turquoise collar at the neckline of her best linen dress “Fine.” Maintain your composure, stay calm until you get to the ship, foolish girl. When you are alone you can fall apart and weep. After all, once you begin crying you know you won’t be able to stop.

  The captain watched her for another long moment, a small frown line between his eyebrows, perhaps distrusting her blithe assurances. Finally, he shrugged, then moved to tread a step or two in front of her, making a path for them through the crowd. Reluctantly, Tiya reached out to hook one hand into his leather sword belt so as to keep from being separated. He set a fast pace, as if he were doing a forced march. Does he go everywhere at this speed? Or is he embarrassed to be walking with me?

  The trip didn’t take long. They had to wait for a few moments while a religious procession danced and cavorted along the street. A large statue of Isis drifted past them, carried by four strong lads on her own litter, and a flutter of wistfulness washed over Tiya in the statue’s wake. Nephthys is a hard mistress. I wish I could appeal to Isis for help. My mother always said the queen of the Great Ones was her refuge in time of trouble.

  Eventually, Khenet forced a way through the dissipating crowd and they emerged onto the long docks. Far fewer people lingered at this hour as most boats sailed with the dawn winds and put in to shore at twilight. Pointing to a lone ship, docked and flying Pharaoh’s golden hawk insignia with his cartouche, Khenet said, “There’s the vessel. Trim lines, fast on the water no doubt.”

  Tiya swallowed hard. “Good.” She nodded as he stared at her from his greater height. “Nephthys doesn’t want this journey to take any longer than it has to.”

  He leaned over, his words only for her hearing. Drawing in her breath with a hiss, Tiya tried not to be overwhelmed as all his force of personality was directed at her, although his voice was dangerously soft. “I am not in any rush to meet the fate your goddess has decreed for me.”

  How can he be so calm in the face of her abominable plans? “How much were you told?” Who could have told him? Did Pharaoh share the information?

  He watched her for several moments, shifting his weight, adjusting his pack, his hand on the hilt of his sword as if she were the enemy. His brown eyes were narrowed, his attitude fierce. Tiya stifled the instinctive urge to retreat several steps when he spoke again. “I have no details, but am aware of the broad strokes of our mission. Be warned—I don’t go so tamely to my death as Nephthys may hope. I’ll fight to live.”

  Tiya blinked, her stomach churning with tension. What do I say? I can’t even try to fight for my life. This morning when I arose I thought a forced marriage to my stepmother’s brother was the worst fate I could endure. Little did I know.

  Yet this captain’s fate is to be even worse than mine.

  Not waiting for her answer, he had already begun striding across the quay toward the waiting ship. Tiya hurried to catch up and, by the time he reached the gangplank, they were side by side again. A man paced at the foot of the ramp, whistling an odd little tune over and over, apparently impatient for their arrival.

  His pacing stopped as they approached, and the man whistled once more before bowing awkwardly to her, but he kept his eyes on Khenet. “I’m Taneb, captain of the River Horse. Welcome to my ship.” He assessed the sun over their shoulders, frowning a bit. “If we can cast off in the next few moments, we can catch the late afternoon wind and make good progress for you, my lady. By Pharaoh’s order, we’ve no other passengers, no cargo.”

  “I’m ready.” Tiya ran her hand over her hair, smoothing it behind her ear as the river breeze sought to dislodge the stiff arrangement.

  Taneb blinked and peered behind her. “But your things? Where are your household possessions? Your clothes?”

  “Has nothing been delivered then?” Khenet was obviously impatient, eyebrows drawn together in a forbidding frown. His voice was clipped, harsh. “It isn’t like Pharaoh’s Chief Scribe to leave any detail undone, no matter how small. I want to be underway, not sitting at the stinking dock.”

  “One small trunk was brought aboard an hour ago by a palace messenger,” Taneb told them, measuring the span of the item with his gnarled hands. “Nothing more since.”

  Stop talking about how little I’m taking! I can almost measure the days left to me by the scantiness of my possessions. Tiya held up the embroidered sack. “The trunk and what’s in here are all I’ve packed. There’s nothing else to wait for.” She brushed past the ship’s captain and walked awkwardly onto the steep gangplank, her fine leather sandals slipping on the wood. If I don’t get somewhere private in the next moment or two I’m going to disgrace myself, the goddess and my family by succumbing to tears in public. She didn’t regret saving her cousin, who had a happy marriage waiting for her, from this fate, but Tiya did wonder why the goddess demanded such a heavy burden. How is this fair that we’re still cursed by what our ancestor did, so long ago? Why do the other Great Ones allow it?

  Behind her, Khenet swore under his breath. A moment later, he stood beside her. As soon as his hand clasped her elbow Tiya raised her head high, swallowed hard, and walked more easily onto the ship. Hastening after them the ship’s captain called out a series of orders to the sailors lounging about. The men stopped ogling Tiya and ran to do their captain’s bidding.

  When she was safel
y on the deck Tiya breathed deep in relief, and Captain Khenet released her elbow. Not long now and I can be alone to weep. To try to think. She swiveled her head a bit frantically, eying the open area. “Pharaoh’s Scribe said I’d be assigned a private cabin?”

  “I’ll gladly escort you to it, my lady, if you’ll both follow me.” Taneb did his jerky bow again. The action managed to momentarily pierce the cloud of Tiya’s despair, and she had to hide a flicker of amusement. She walked a step or two behind him as he led her below decks to the passenger cabin, Captain Khenet pacing behind.

  Looking back, Tiya saw him sweeping the ship with his gaze, assessing every detail from stem to stern as they progressed. He can’t be expecting any threat to me here, on the ship Pharaoh has chartered. Perhaps a warrior like him leaves nothing to chance. A small measure of relief came to her, slowing her racing heartbeat and calming her heaving stomach. He’ll look out for my well-being, as he promised my brother, until the moment of his own death. Then I’ll be on my own.

  Thoughts of her brother sent tears prickling at the back of her eyes once more, and she shifted from foot to foot, angry, depressed, embarrassed and dying to just be alone with the flood of her emotions.

  With a murmured apology, Khenet brushed past her to examine the interior of the cabin.

  “Isn’t such caution a bit excessive?” Tiya asked tartly as he came out into the corridor again, moving aside to let him pass.

  “My orders are to keep you safe.” He gave a half salute. “All part of the job.”

  She paused on the threshold of the cabin and took a deep breath. “Thank you, both of you. I’ll be fine now, I’m sure.” She fled into the cramped space, shutting the flimsy door behind her as tears flowed.

  * * *

  Khenet frowned at the closed door for a moment. The lady had been pretty upset. Captain Taneb strolled on down the narrow passageway to the other cabin, speaking over his shoulder.

  “One small bag? And her trunk can’t hold more than a dress or two and some combs. Most odd for a woman of her status. Her family is wealthy. I’ve carried tons of cargo for them.” Taneb raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t there be household goods? Clothing? To say nothing of a dowry.”

  No dowry necessary for a woman going to certain death. “It’s not my business,” Khenet answered, his voice curt.

  The captain shrugged. “I’m sure Pharaoh has his reasons for insulting the groom-to-be by omitting a dowry.”

  Taneb is being well paid to take this odd set of passengers down the Nile. And it’s an honor to serve Pharaoh. What does he care whether we have baggage or not? Whether Lady Tiya has a dowry? Still, Khenet let the comment pass.

  Taneb adopted a more conversational tone. “My cook will have dinner ready after sundown once we have pulled into safe anchorage for the night. Nothing fancy—we’re a working cargo ship, not Pharaoh’s barge, flying his flag or not.”

  * * *

  Khenet climbed on deck after stowing his gear in the tiny cabin. He spent the afternoon watching the banks of the Nile slide by as the River Horse sailed south. A steady wind filled the sails and the rowers had no duties. Taneb kept their idle hands occupied with rubbing protective oils into the ship’s planks. Khenet approved of the captain’s attention to detail and discipline.

  They passed other traffic on the water from time to time. Lady Tiya didn’t stir from her cabin, not even when the ship put in for the night at a small cove and the crew went ashore. As the cook was finishing the simple dinner preparations, Khenet ventured below to fetch her. Knocking gently on the door brought no response from the cabin’s occupant. “My lady? Dinner is ready on deck.”

  “Go away.” Her muffled voice barely pierced the door panel.

  Of course. A noble lady doesn’t want to eat with common sailors and a rough soldier. Khenet gritted his teeth. The small flicker of sympathy fled. So, she is as haughty as her peers at Court. He was a warrior, not a servant, but he would adapt to the situation for now. His orders had been clear. The lady Tiya had to be taken care of. Until the time came for her to die. Even if she did volunteer, this is a cruel fate for one so young, overproud or not. The Great Ones can be heartless in pursuit of their goals. Not much liking his part in all this either, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs of thought. Putting his mouth close to the lacquered panel, Khenet raised his voice. “I can bring you a plate.”

  Her voice was still muffled, but louder and distinctly annoyed. “I don’t want anything. Leave me alone and go away.” A thump sounded through the door, as if she’d thrown something at it.

  Eyes narrowed, temper flaring, he considered his options for a moment. Spoiled, highborn female. She can go hungry then, and see how she likes having an empty stomach. He leaned close to the door and made his voice neutral. “As you wish. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  There was some garbled answer. He spun on his heel and walked away.

  * * *

  Khenet slept lightly, his cabin door open, alert for movement from Lady Tiya or anyone trying to approach her cabin, but the night remained uneventful. Rising at dawn, he moved on deck in the cool mists as the River Horse nosed out into the Nile to continue their journey. Pulling the folds of his scarlet cloak close, he took a satisfying bite of meat wrapped in a roll, and washed it down with tangy juice.

  The chill air fanned his cheeks, pleasant and bracing. Traveling by boat had always been his favorite mode of transport. A pair of rare river dolphins paced the ship for a few moments and his heart lightened a little at the sight. A good omen. They leapt and frolicked, then arrowed away across the broad surface of the Nile. Farmers trudged into the fields as the ship passed by, walking behind their black-and white-spotted oxen. Khenet settled at the bow, leaning over the rail.

  As the sun soared higher in the sky with no sign or word from Lady Tiya, his sense of duty nagged at him, more and more insistently. She probably hopes I’ll wait upon her in her cabin like some thrice-damned eunuch. He scoffed at the idea. His highborn charge needed to understand the world didn’t cater to her beck and call. Or, at least, Khenet had no such plans.

  Still more time passed and his guilt over neglected duty transformed to real fear for the lady. A sailor came swaggering up the stairway and Khenet stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Could that man have been bothering her? He hastened below decks to make sure no harm had come to her, to make sure he had not failed in his sworn duty before they’d even left the precincts of Thebes.

  Chapter Three

  “My lady?” He knocked gently at the door.

  No answer. Resting his ear against the panel, Khenet heard nothing. He rapped his knuckles in a loud tattoo. “I’m coming in, my lady.”

  She made no answer.

  Alarmed, he slid the door open and stepped through the portal. The tiny cabin was dark and close, the air sour with the smell of sickness. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he observed her curled in a tight ball on the narrow bunk. Her hands were pressed to her eyes and she moaned.

  “Go away,” she commanded in a shaky voice, averting her face from the light that streamed through the door.

  “What ails you, my lady?” Khenet had a sinking feeling in his gut. Her face is so pale, such huge circles under her eyes. She must be truly ill.

  “It’s nothing.” She cleared her throat, then was stricken by a bout of dry heaves. He retreated a step involuntarily. Licking her cracked, dry lips, she said, “I get terrible headaches. Being on the water is making the pain worse than normal. I slept a little while we were anchored last night but once we set sail again today—” She retched suddenly and curled up even more tightly.

  Eyes now accustomed to the gloom, he surveyed the small space. He could hardly breathe himself. It can’t be good for her to lie here. I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a headache but...He leaned toward the bunk, tried for a soot
hing tone. “I’ll return in a few moments.”

  “Just go.” Her voice was tense. She rolled over, away from him. “These headaches last for days, and there’s nothing to be done.”

  We’ll see about that. Inaction wasn’t his preferred choice when faced with a problem.

  Once on deck, Khenet sought out the captain, making a few demands. Several moments later, he returned to Lady Tiya’s cabin, bending to scoop her into his arms.

  She struggled weakly the moment he touched her in a vain attempt to push his hands away. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” Spasms wracked her body again and she moaned pitifully.

  “I’m trying to help you, stubborn woman.” Lifting her easily off the sweat-soaked linen sheets, he carried her out of the cabin and up onto the deck. She seemed so petite in his arms, her loose hair soft, the curls brushing against his skin. She leaned against him, her head on his chest, eyes closed. Daylight revealed the sickly pallor of her skin.

  “I had the crew rig a spare sail at the bow, to make you an open tent.” Easily adjusting his balance as the ship crested the waves, he paced along the deck, Lady Tiya unresisting in his arms. “I put my straw mattress there. You can lie in the shade, in the clean air from the Nile, and rest. The breeze off the river may help with the nausea.”

  He walked past the edge of the makeshift pavilion the crew had created to give her privacy and knelt to place her on the mattress. She curled up the second he released his grip. Drenching a rag in a nearby pitcher of water, he coaxed her into straightening out so he could wash her face. Caked and smeared eye makeup from the previous day ran down her cheeks, which were tracked with tears. Once he’d cleared most of the mess away he could see her face, surprisingly sweet and fresh. Without the layers of paint she looked less like a highborn noblewoman, and more like the kind of woman he would find appealing. Khenet wrung out the rag and refreshed it in the pitcher. By Horus’s talons, where did such an observation come from? I can’t afford to assess her as a woman. She’s strictly my assignment, a package to protect—nothing more. Get a grip, soldier. He made fast work of removing the rest of her makeup. She lay back and he covered her with the linen sheet from his cabin.