Song of Isis

by Diana Kirk

  Tarik leaned forward and studied her face. A shadow of pain crossed his face. "Before that night, I had promised you to Pharaoh." His gaze wandered over the rippling waters. "I had planned full well to present you as a gift, as a discovery, as an honored physician."

  Alex noticed the sadness in his eyes. "Well I guess you've got a captive audience." She glanced around the ship. "Go on."

  "After the night when Isis smiled upon us, it pained my heart to give you up. I had even thought to hide you in my household, but I could not shame my family with a lie."

  A small voice whispered in her head. There's truth in his eyes. Give him a chance.

  "Do you understand?"

  "I understand. Your pride was more important. You wanted to show me off, to be the big man in the kingdom. You gave me to Mentuhotep as if I meant nothing to you."

  Tarik stood and glared down at her. "That is not so. I was honor bound. I thought it would be easier for you to accept if anger dulled your pain."

  "That's a lot of--" Alex stood and pushed her hands against him, hoping to knock him off balance, but he gripped her wrists and pulled her back against him. He gazed down at her and his eyes grew dark and full of mystery. Gently, he stood and gathered her in his arms. He headed toward the tent.

  No! Yes.

  Her breath lodged in her throat and her heart labored as if it might burst from her chest. He placed her on the plush bedding and covered her with himself. Every sinewed muscle of his hot, hard body warred against her needy one. She battled to regain the air that suddenly rushed from her lungs as if she'd sprinted to the top of a pyramid. He whispered her name and nestled his head into the curve of her neck. "Alex, do not fight me. Let our joining bring peace between us."

  She'd never wanted a man as much as she did this one, right now, this very moment. But she couldn't just say "That's all right, simple misunderstanding." Even if he did have convincing reasons, he'd almost ruined her life. He'd given her away.

  She pushed against him and sat up. "No!"

  Tarik gazed at her in shocked surprise.

  "You didn't care what happened to me," she said. "You only wanted to look good to your superior. You didn't even try to explain."

  "You would not have listened. You would have tried to persuade me otherwise."

  "Maybe so, but you didn't even give me the chance. You just assumed I'd react out of anger."

  "And are you angry, now?"

  "You know damn well I am."

  "See? Then I was right."

  "You're impossible." She fell back against the bed and covered her eyes with her folded arms. The boat swayed gently in the Nile. They were utterly and completely alone. Not even the spirits of the dead disturbed them.

  "Not so as you."

  He pulled her arms away from her face and covered her with his body. Shivers of ecstasy warmed her. She longed for him to tear off her clothing and tease every inch of her with his mouth. He angled himself up on one elbow and their gazes locked for one timeless moment.

  He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers. As if all her anger had been blown away by a sudden sandstorm, she reached up and tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and smothered him with tiny kisses. He returned her passion and kissed the tender spot beneath her ear, as if he could read her mind and discern all her pleasure points.

  His lips traveled across the sensitive flesh of her breasts and nipped the tender buds straining against the fabric of her dress. She writhed in passion beneath him urging him on with soft moans.

  "Dammit, Tarik," she moaned. "Why couldn't you just have understood how much you hurt me?"

  He grew still and lifted his face from her breasts. Tenderly, he took her head between his hands and caressed her face with his lips. "I do understand, wife. There will be no consummation unless you wish it. You have only to ask."

  Alex sat up. "What? Ask what?"

  The beat of her throbbing heart had muffled his words. Surely she hadn't heard him right. "But Mentuhotep...?"

  Tarik leaned down, smoothed her rumpled hair and straightened her dress. "He will never know. I will not shame you to Pharaoh. Have no fear. You are safe from my touch until you ask. I swear it."

  No! Don't swear.

  All she had to do was ask him to take her in his arms and it'd be all right. Yes. That's what she'd do. After all, they were married. And he'd sworn not to tell Mentuhotep. That was proof he cared.

  A dark thought burned in the pit of her stomach. She was still his chattel, his property, something to be bought, sold, or even given away. Like before, when he'd presented her to pharaoh. Trussed up like a trophy he'd bagged in the desert. He could afford to be generous. To wait her out. He knew she wanted him. In the end, he got what he'd wanted all along. Pharaoh's honor and her too.

  "So." She pushed against him. "You want me to beg you to take me in your arms? To ease your guilt?"

  "No. I only thought--" He sat up obviously surprised by her reaction.

  She leaned up on one elbow. "This whole noble thing about not touching me is merely a ploy. Isn't it? Another one of your macho tricks to get me all turned on. Piece of cake, huh?" And he'd even used child psychology to do it.

  He stared at her with a confused look on his face. And she'd fallen for it. Well, almost. But she wasn't a child and she wouldn't be manipulated by some four thousand year old mummy.

  "Knock it off." Alex bit her lip and fisted the sheet in each hand. "I don't know what game you're playing, but if you're waiting for me to ask, or beg, or whatever." She waved her arms. "It won't happen. Not now. Not ever."

  The glint in his eyes turned dull and black. He stared at her with disbelief. Would he dare hit her? Or worse?

  "So be it." Tarik rolled over and left her staring at his back.

  Chapter Nine

  TARIK LISTENED for the regular breathing of his wife, but soft, muffled sobs betrayed her sleeplessness. He longed to stretch his cramping muscles, to roll over on his back and gather her in his arms. To begin again. But this time he had gone too far, had said too many thoughtless words. Perhaps he'd only meant to ease his guilt, to say nothing of his desire.

  How could he have known Pharaoh would give her back? First, she blamed him for honoring his loyalty to the king, then she blamed him for accepting her as wife. Ultimately, she blamed him for everything that had happened to her since her arrival. What a sorry day that had been.

  Yet, he was not sorry. The gods had fated him to meet this strange woman from far away, one who professed to be a physician like he. But the medicine she practiced was far above any he'd ever heard or seen. These were miracles that a god had destined. He did not understand the forces that had guided their paths to collide. Yet, he did not wish her gone. In the face of all she'd experienced he admired her strength and courage.

  But her fire and stubbornness were that of a spoiled child, complaining he'd given her away; and complaining, yet again, when given the freedom of their union. He was not cruel or controlling. He had still to learn the ways of husbanding and would allow her the respect she had already earned as a great healer.

  By her thoughts, she had been wronged. Yet, he had also tasted her passion for him. One so great he'd been overwhelmed by the pleasure of that night in the garden. She had seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her. Still, their very touch sparked a fire between them. So much so the space between their bodies loomed like a chasm.

  His loins ached to be inside her. Why had he vowed to acquiesce his need and not claim his right as husband, but hold back until she wished it? How could she not wish their joining, if he pleasured her? What else but her own obstinacies kept them apart?

  He freely admitted he was just as stubborn. But her words had also injured him. Had she not called him dried up and mummy? No doubt an insult, a blow, to wound and hurt.

  Her words were meaningless to him, but the tone bespoke an insult. Most certainly she was from a distant time, for the miracles she performed were beyond imagination.
And the strange contents of the black case she took everywhere were nonetheless intriguing and alien to everything he'd been taught of medicine, and yet its contents had awed him into belief. The odd bracelet that marked the hours, the stick that glowed, and the long rope that hung from her neck and carried the very beating of her heart to his ears. All were as strange and as marvelous to him as she, this woman he needed.

  He slowly, carefully, gently, rolled onto his back and slanted his gaze across her. Sleep had finally been victorious over her strong spirit and she lay on her stomach with both hands beneath her head. Her dark lashes fanned across her pale cheeks and her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Tiny puffs of air slipped between her ripened lips and he hungered for the remembered taste of them.

  Ra had yet to be reborn but his rays glistened across the outside waters. Soon the palace would waken. No doubt, Seta and Kensu would come to their quarters looking for them, but they would already be at the boat. Would anyone ever believe consummation had been accomplished?

  A soft glow filled the tent and bathed his wife in gold while the Nile's rocking lulled them. How sweet and soft she looked, curled up like a babe, waiting for him to wrap his arms around her to protect her. What if she kept her promise to never ask him into her arms? Or, yet again, go back to her time?

  No. Somehow he must convince her to accept him and his land and forget her silly notions of leaving.

  How he ached for her. He leaned down and hesitantly traced his finger down her cheek and across her lips. Alex opened her eyes sleepily and smiled up at him. He leaned down and kissed her lips. They parted and he tasted her tongue, soft and sweet against his.

  "Master! Alex!" Seta's worried call interrupted their embrace. Alex wakened fully and pulled away.

  "Here, Seta. We're in here." She turned toward Tarik and shot him a pleading glance. One that said, "Do not betray me."

  "Come, Kensu, they are here." Seta hurried up the plank, onto the small reed boat, and greeted them. "Pharaoh's men came to your room to bring you refreshments," she said breathlessly. "When there was no answer they entered to find your bed not slept in."

  Alex glanced worriedly at Tarik and back at Seta. Lowering her lashes, she leaned seductively against him. "I--we needed privacy."

  Kensu followed right behind Seta and glanced from Alex to Tarik. "Ah, the bridegroom wakes. Did you not sleep well?"

  His broad smile mocked him and Alex busied herself with Seta preparing for departure. "Mentuhotep sent me to report on your well being."

  Tarik rubbed his sore, tense neck. "Kensu, cannot you find some other task to amuse yourself?"

  "Is Pharaoh's friend and mine out of sorts this fine morning?" Tarik wanted to smack the smirk from his face. "Is your poor humor from lack of sleep or lack of--?"

  "Quiet, Kensu." He nodded his head in Alex's direction. "My wife is shy. She would take offense to your questions." Shy was not exactly the word he had intended, but it would do.

  His friend smiled broadly and clapped his hand on Tarik's back. "Then I am to report success to our Lord and Pharaoh?"

  "Report what you have seen here." Tarik smiled broadly and crossed his arms over his chest. "A loving wife tending to her husband after a night of revelry. All is well in the house of Tarik."

  "Ah, my good wishes go with you. I will visit Abydos in one month to secure the border. The Herakleopolians are acting strangely." Kensu gripped Tarik's arms with his in farewell. "So be careful my good friend and cousin. Until the moon is full again, let Isis fill your ka with happiness."

  "DO NOT TELL me they have gone!"

  Tem's shrill voice filled the room and a glazed figurine crashed against the wall. The servants shrank back and crossed their arms over their heads.

  "Mistress, the guards said they left the palace last evening," an elfin slave girl answered.

  The hot flush of anger burned Tem's cheeks. He'd left with his fair-skinned bride and he hadn't said a word to her. How dare he insult the queen? "Tarik has duties to perform for the royal family. Why did no one tell me?"

  Smashing pottery punctuated each word, and servants scattered throughout the room collecting the pieces.

  "I do not know, my Queen," the servant said. "Can we not call Lord Vizier Kensu to answer?"

  Tem's gaze seared the girl who cowered mutely, wringing her hands like an old woman at the tomb of Mentu's father. "Kensu is a fool. He plots with Tarik. He is of no use to me."

  With a vicious flick of her foot, she shoved the servant from her path. "Someone will pay for this oversight!"

  Another figurine splattered across the floor. "I swear it!"

  Her spies had not warned her of their leaving. What good did it do to have spies, if they did not bring her the information she needed. Or, had something happened to impede them? Had Tarik discovered their ways and bribed them, or worse? Sacrificed them to his sword? No. Tarik was a man of peace, a healer. He would not do such a thing. But, she could. That is, when she got her hands around their brawny necks.

  Arms akimbo, Tem paced the room with great flourish.

  "Fetch those worthless jackals. I wish to hear this blasphemy from their own lips."

  She settled herself and reclined against her gilded settee. Were her henchmen even still alive? If Tarik hadn't laid waste to them, they should die this very day by her own hand. How pleasant to hear their screams of terror, to witness their bodies stretched and tortured until they begged for mercy. She would have their heads. This was truly the only fitting punishment for their laziness.

  She sighed and slumped her shoulders. Mentu would not permit cruelty to anyone. She'd spent the better part of her life among his father's court and had enjoyed many evil pleasures there. But Mentuhotep the Second had been different, kind and gentle to his subjects and her delights in watching others tortured would remain but a fantasy of revenge.

  She had no loyal spies, really. For although they professed loyalty to her, they greatly revered and feared her husband. He was too powerful and he was too good. She dared not go too far, for if he so chose, they would turn their swords against her without a moment's thought.

  She had to find a way to end Tarik's laughable pretense of marriage. This was, no doubt, a fabrication Mentu had ordered to arouse her anger. Or did he somehow suspect harm might befall Alex in the Queen's quarters?

  "Gods," she swore. "Hah! He reminds me of my position in his royal court. That it is he who rules this rich and sacred land. What am I? Merely an appendage, a vessel to produce an heir, nothing more?"

  Instead of answering her, the servant girl motioned the others quickly away. Tem almost wished Alex had stayed with the harem so she would have someone stimulating to argue with--before she killed her. Tem filled a goblet with beer and sipped. She'd find a way. She simply had to figure out how to get near Alex without arousing Mentu's suspicion.

  Although he was Pharaoh and professed to be a god, she knew deep in her heart he was just a man. One she'd outwitted long ago. There were always ways to thwart any rudimentary scheme. She would act as if Tarik's marriage did not bother her at all. She would praise Alex and their union.

  But soon her plan of revenge would form and become solid. Every bride had something she wanted kept in hiding. Tem would be the one to learn Alex's hidden secret, or find a blemish from the past that would tarnish Tarik's fair-skinned bride.

  No doubt, a royal visit upon the newlyweds was in order. At the end of the moon's cycle when Kensu inspected the borders north of Abydos, she'd accompany him to Tarik's ancestral home.

  Yet, she must be careful. No doubt Mentu had noticed the look of ravenous hunger she'd given to Tarik. A look her husband had not yet received, nor would he ever.

  Alone, in the secret confines of his private quarters, she was certain Mentuhotep longed for Neferu in his bed. But Tem had given him passion far beyond his first wife's quiet patience and loving subservience. Tem had born his heir and for this, alone, she would be honored for all eternity. Never love or true husbandly affec
tion, but respect for her contribution to the future of Egypt--this, alone, was her reward for services performed.

  Although Pharaoh cared little what she did throughout the kingdom or with whom, he would be angered by her interference in Tarik's wedded bliss. She must be careful. First she must feign an ailment. One that made it truth to visit her royal physician, Tarik.

  Tem brightened, sat upright and clapped her hands. She had thirty days to plant the seeds of illness. A smile crossed her lips and she gazed contentedly at her servants, scurrying about the room picking up shards of pottery and glaze.

  "I am feeling poorly," she said to no one and everyone. "Tell Pharaoh, I am not to join him today. My spirits weigh heavily upon my ka and I will seek the quiet of my bed. Bring my medicines, the ones Lord Tarik has prescribed."

  "Yes, Mistress." Her servant bowed and left the room.

  This would be too easy. Thirty days to give justification for a trip to her physician.

  "Delicious," she said, gathering a handful of grapes and popping them one by one into her mouth. "Simply delicious."

  ALEX GAZED out at the midnight blue waters of the Nile. In a matter of minutes they would be in Abydos and the magic of Isis' garden would again confuse her, and lessen her anger, and weaken her resolve to go home.

  Everything was wrong here. She wasn't a part of his culture, not even his time. She belonged to a world of wailing sirens, jets, phones, nurses calling out, "Code Blue!" and television. In her century, she'd made a difference. She'd contributed to society and had been needed. Here, she was nothing more than Tarik's trophy, an oddity to be displayed to the curious, a plaything. He could even take her on tour and charge admission.

  Unlike Dorothy, she simply couldn't tap her heels together and go home. What had happened to propel her back in time was much more complicated than a mere tornado. Time travel involved quantum physics and altering the laws of nature, something she knew nothing about. And yet, she was here. If she had been transported to ancient Egypt, then it stood to reason she could get back home. But how? When?