Song of Isis

by Diana Kirk

  She was sure the answer waited for her out there in the desert, deep inside an ancient tomb, one that wouldn't be discovered for four thousand years. A discovery made by her father.

  Her head swam with unanswered questions. If Mentuhotep was buried in Thebes, then who'd been buried in the tomb? Who had achieved such stature to accord this honor? When she had examined the mummy radiologically, she'd thought he was the eleventh dynasty pharaoh, Mentuhotep. Or did the sarcophagus belong to someone else? A cold shiver permeated the desert heat and lodged in her spine. Perhaps even herself? After all, that's where Tarik found her. A mixture of hope and gloom battled for supremacy within her and a smile grew in the corners of her mouth. Maybe she lived out her life with him and was buried in the tomb.

  Alex glanced up to find Tarik watching her. A pained expression flashed briefly across his face and he turned, busying himself with directing servants to dock. In that brief second, his face had told her more than a thousand words. The urge to rush headlong into his arms filled her with pain as real and palpable as any she'd witnessed in the hospital.

  She laid a hand on her chest as if she could soothe the ache in her heart. Why did she have to be so sensible? Why did the idea of staying with him make her miserable and out of sorts? She shouldn't be feeling this way. Not when what had happened in the garden had been nothing more than lust.

  Yet, lust didn't make you miserable. A bitter thought soured her. She just couldn't sit around and be the dutiful wife, all trussed up like a Christmas goose and waiting for him to carve out her soul.

  No. As much as I love him, I can't stay here.

  Goose bumps shivered across her arms. It was worse than she'd thought. This wasn't mere lust. She loved him.

  Just great. She slammed her fist against a rigging. What a moment to become profound. This self-revelation was just what she needed to ruin everything. She'd never get home if she gave in to that one. But, she couldn't bear to see him looking at her with hurt in his eyes. It betrayed his heart. If she ever wanted to ease his pain, she'd have to make him want to be rid of her. She could be as nasty as humanly possible, maybe even act like Tem. For some reason, the woman repelled him, although other than her killer temperament, she was a knockout by any standards. That'd do it. She'd simply be as condescending, demanding, and impossible as Tem. He'd run a hundred miles in the opposite direction to get away from her.

  Tarik had used the same cruel ruse against her, yet, said he'd only tried to spare her when he took her to the pharaoh. Spare her pain of their separation. And it had worked. She'd been too angry and miserable to feel the hurt. It had worked so well, she almost hated him.

  He'd done the same to her. How could she have been so blind? Why hadn't she seen it before now? He loved her. He loves me. She slanted a glance in his direction but he didn't notice the gasp, or the smile that had forced itself across her face. She turned, hiding her emotions. This wouldn't do at all. If he knew her feelings, he'd try to keep her from going back, try to make her a real wife. No matter how they felt about each other, it didn't change reality. She didn't belong here. She'd fallen through a fissure in the universe and somehow would be yanked back once the ripple healed itself. She just had to be in the right place when that moment came.

  Already, it'd be damned hard to leave, but not too much longer and it'd be impossible.

  But what if...? No.

  For the time being, she'd have to keep things on an impersonal level. He was a physician. She was a physician. Maybe they could find some commonality between them, something to pass the time until she could get back to the tomb.

  There was no other way. She had to remain focused on getting back to the tomb, and the only way to do that was to keep as far away from him as she could.

  WHAT WAS betrayed in her eyes? Tarik had only given her a fleeting glance, yet pain and sadness had radiated from her. Was marriage to him such an awful prospect that it would cause this much anguish? Did she so hate the sight of him that all she could do was crouch along the edge of the boat and stare deeply into the black waters?

  He had not understood her anger, and still he had allowed her to vent her rage. He was not cruel and yet, for the duration of the trip, she had treated him as if he had beaten her.

  The urge to cross the deck and lift her into his arms, carry her into the tent, and take what was his aroused need in him. She was his wife and had been pronounced so by Mentuhotep. What more did she need as proof that their union was divine?

  "Lord Tarik, the sail is stuck. We must drop it now, or we shall pass beyond our destination," Kasim said.

  Tarik glanced up from the pile of rope he had been staring at and surveyed the problem. "I will go."

  "No, it is dangerous. I must do it," Kasim interrupted.

  "You wait below," Tarik ordered. "I need to do this thing."

  Slowly, deliberately he climbed the main masthead. The hot, dry, desert wind pummeled away at him trying to force him back, but he would not retreat until he found the knotted rope that held the lateen sail steady.

  This was good. A chance to do something besides worry over his troubles with his wife. He inched forward and found the badly knotted rope.

  "Kasim, clear the way." With a flick of his sword, he released the sail and it crashed onto the deck in a cloud of dust. For one agonizing instant, Alex was hidden and Tarik feared she had been too close. "Alex? Alex?"

  His gaze met hers for a brief moment and he saw the fear in her eyes. He slid down the mast and nodded amid the smiles and cheers of his men. Did she actually fear for him, or was it fear that the sail might crush her? She averted her eyes to the water and silently turned her back to him.

  Anger replaced his concern and worry. How she felt about him did not matter, for he would not allow her a second chance to reject him. If she thought to punish him with coldness, she was mistaken.

  Had he not survived capture by the Herakleopolis in the last great war? Had he not brought great honor to his family and his pharaoh by withstanding cruel tortures until Kensu's armies had brought about his freedom?

  Once again, he was engaged in war--a war of wills. Only this time, there was much more than his life at stake. His earthly ka had been captured, and no matter how much his body betrayed him, he would fight against her stubborn female anger and free his will.

  Tarik clenched his jaw and contemplated the beer goblet Kasim shoved into his hand. He lifted it to his lips and drank long and deep. The cool beverage calmed his spirit and renewed his purpose.

  "Is good." He swallowed the last of it. "You have done well, Kasim."

  She was not like any woman he had ever met. If she was, he would have taken her to his bed without thought of anything more. Tarik smiled. He loved her because she was so different, but taking her to his bed would only push her farther away. He would have to remain patient. He too, had a will of stone. She might be forced to share his marriage bed, but it would remain nothing more than a cold, unyielding resting place, devoid of love, until she acquiesced her will to his.

  This, he vowed before the throne of Isis. Until, from her own lips, she begged him, not so much as one night of passion would be theirs.

  Chapter Ten

  "LORD TARIK, you must come."

  Tarik pushed away from their dining table and leaned toward the nervous old man. With his chin lowered against his chest, he couldn't see the smile that had wandered lazily across Tarik's lips. A sure sign of satiation no doubt. Alex narrowed her gaze to his lips. One moment they could be hard and demanding, then soft and searching against her skin. Sitting directly across from him, she was aware of his every movement. His nearness unnerved her to the point where her heart threatened to burst through her chest. Even its beat drowned out all rational thought. For a brief moment, as if he heard its rhythm, he tossed her a glance and then turned his attention back to the old man who nervously droned on about his wife's ailment.

  Why did Tarik affect her so? He was mere flesh and blood, bone and sinew, the same as an
y other man she'd come across in her lifetime. Yet each time he came near, she reacted to him like some lovesick teenager. Her stomach knotted itself into a permanent cramp. Even her heart beat out so many different rhythms she was probably in danger of fibrillation. If this was love, why did it make her so miserable?

  But it wasn't her heart that needed healing. It was her soul. If she could taste his lips just one last time before she left. If she could only let his warmth quell her hunger and satisfy her constant raging need? If only...but that wasn't in her karma.

  Akiki loped in from the doorway and snapped at the man who awaited his master's decision. "Leave us. Can you not see our Lord Tarik is much indisposed?"

  "My wife's pain is too much." The man glanced nervously at Alex and, ignoring Akiki as if he were a bothersome gnat, continued pleading.

  Tarik waived Akiki away and leaned forward. "How long has the pain been with her?"

  "Two days, I fear." The old man's breathing increased and Alex wondered if they might have to resuscitate him, as well.

  "Her head grows hot and she has trouble breathing. There is a large swelling on her ankle."

  "Be gone." Akiki nudged between them. "My master and I will deal with your wife when he chooses."

  "Akiki, take your sullen nature and tend to Nafari's needs."

  "But--"

  "Do as I say this instant!"

  Akiki glanced at Tarik, pleading with his eyes. "She herds me as if I am a beast of burden only fit to do her bidding. And you, my lord, have taught me the healing ways."

  He squared his rounded shoulders and tossed an angry glance at Alex. "I am to accompany you?"

  "Not this time, Akiki."

  "But, Lord--"

  "Not another word. Now off with you." Tarik waved him away and smiled warmly at the old man.

  "We will see her." Tarik nodded and turned toward Alex. "Do you wish to join me?"

  Yeah, she wished to join him. But not the way he thought. The last two sleepless nights had been unbearable. Her anger had cooled and in its place a new sensation ruled her every waking thought. Yearning for what could never be and wanting what she'd briefly had.

  Sleeping with Tarik, and not touching him had fed the craving that grew stronger each night they were apart. Soon, she would starve to death from the want of him.

  But he always seemed unaware of her need, rolling over on his side and promptly nodding off while she was left to toss and turn. During the day, he remained coolly distant, but cordial. He treated her with the respect of a visitor, an honored relative. But certainly not like a wife.

  Today, she'd noticed his voice remained measured but there wasn't any anger in it. Now, he'd asked her to accompany him on his rounds, just like at the hospital, the chief physician taking his resident along. Only she wasn't back in Chicago and she wasn't his resident, she was his wife.

  A shiver shuddered through her.

  "Alex?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you not well? Do you wish to stay?" A frown crossed his brow. "I will tell Akiki he may come."

  "No, I'm fine. I'd really like to see how you care for patients."

  "Patients?" He tilted his head in that quirky way he had.

  "I--I mean the man's wife. I--I'd like to see her. Do you mind if I take my bag?"

  She lifted it from the table and clutched it to her chest. The worn leather case filled with her treasures from the future was the only remnant of where she'd been and where she planned to go.

  ALTHOUGH MUCH smaller than Thebes, Abydos was just as pristine and prosperous. White-washed houses, squared up in equal rows, sparkled in the unrelenting sunlight. Some had brightly painted hieroglyphs on the outside walls, others were covered with the vivid blues, greens, and reds of Egypt. The homes were surprisingly well built with several thicknesses of mud-dried brick to keep out the heat. A thin layer of mud plaster covered the outside roofs and floors. Even without the modern conveniences of air conditioning, inside they were surprisingly cool and comfortable even on the hottest days.

  The Abydos of her century was drab and dusty. Alex wished she had her camera with her. Even if she did make it back, no one would ever believe her. She wouldn't be able to tell anyone. Her trip into the past would be one secret she'd have to keep to herself.

  Alex glanced around and folded her arms across her chest. If only there was something she could bring back. Something...a remnant of a hidden time. Something that had been thought to exist, but had not yet been found. Something that opened the door between the two worlds. She searched her memory for something, anything that might work. The scroll, perhaps...

  A woman's agonizing screams sliced through her thoughts. "Come, Alex." Tarik reached out and pulled her forward. Her skin burned where his hand had been. How long could they go on like this? Never touching? Always wanting? Never loving?

  They entered through the doorway into the coolness of the limestone room. A thin, white-haired woman writhed atop the bed, tangling her legs in the linen sheets. Alex leaned down and placed her palm against the woman's fiery cheek. Her rheumy eyes telegraphed her condition.

  "My leg, Master, it pains me." She glanced at Tarik and back to Alex.

  Tarik approached the bed and pulled the covers away from her.

  "Alex," he said, glancing back. "Hold her shoulders against the bed while I examine her leg. I am looking for blisters."

  "Blisters? What for? Her husband didn't say anything about her being burned."

  Tarik started at the woman's hip and methodically worked his way down her leg, touching, observing, probing. Just like a colleague engaged in differential diagnosis. Though modern physicians weren't usually dressed in loincloths and muscles. A spark of admiration ignited something deep inside. Actually, things weren't very different at all from her world.

  "Ah, here it is." He picked up the woman's ankle and rotated it slightly. She wailed in protest, but he only smiled.

  "Snake-bite?" Alex noted the large red sore.

  "No, it is afofaat. And it has matured enough to be removed." He reached into his sack and withdrew a long stick and handed it to her. Quickly, he took his long knife and sliced into the blister. Holding the stick in one hand, with the other he reached into the wound and tugged, slowly withdrawing the head of a worm.

  "Why it's a guinea worm," Alex said, surprised by the dexterity of his fingers as he rotated the stick gently pulling the worm from its host. He had a surgeon's hands, strong, long-fingered, and steady.

  "This may take time. I must not break the aat's body lest it cause the leg to turn black and wek hedu. Then I will be forced to remove the offending limb, for it will bring upon her death."

  "Jeez." Alex smiled and pointed at his stick. "I don't believe it."

  "What?"

  "Guinea worms. We still remove the worms that way. Today--I mean--in my time, they can be surgically removed, but most physicians choose to get the little devils out with a stick. Less chance for infection that way."

  Tarik glanced up at her and smiled back. "Aat is common in Abydos. I do not know what is this infection you speak of, but I know aat is from the drinking waters and I cannot prevent this, for we must have water."

  "Have you tried boiling?"

  "Boiling?" A questioning look crossed his face.

  "The water. These aat, as you call them, are flukes and their larvae live in the water. They float unnoticed until someone drinks. Then they attach themselves inside the body. Take it from me, it'll help. Boiling destroys the larvae."

  Tarik's gaze softened. "There is so much to know about your land. You must tell me, sometime."

  "First, tell me how you learned this." Alex leaned forward. "I'd really like to know."

  "All knowledge of Egyptian medicine comes from the papyrus of simw. When I was very young, my father instructed me in the manner of life as had his father and his father before him. I learned the ways of medicines and healing, secret to all except my son."

  Alex's heart slowed to barely beat at all. Did he
have another wife? One who'd given him a child. "You have a son?"

  Tarik smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. "No. I've none, yet."

  Her stomach fluttered at his touch and his gaze pierced through her. If only things were different.

  Alex leaned forward to busy herself and examined the woman whose fevered cries had diminished to a soft moan.

  "My father took me to his surgeries and to the great pharmacopoeia to mix the secret medicines." Tarik tilted his head in the direction of his medicine sack, but his hands remained slow and steady, twirling the stick and coaxing the worm inch by inch to leave its host.

  "Alex, mix a small amount of the red ochre in beer and feed it to her."

  She did as he suggested, cupped the woman's head in her hand, and fed the medicine to her. The patient drank greedily.

  "This will destroy the aat's young and they will bother her no more."

  Alex watched her husband pull the last of the worm onto his stick. Although there were many modern drugs to kill parasites, things were still the same. How many other similarities were there between their two cultures? She already knew men hadn't changed much, but there was so much more about this civilization that amazed and comforted her. Don't get too comfortable.

  "Ah." He straightened and smiled broadly. "I am finished and we have been successful in saving her leg." He turned to the woman's anxious husband. "She will rest now. When she wakes, feed her the rest of the beer and give her bread."

  The man bowed his head to Tarik. "You honor this household with your presence. May Isis bless your offspring."

  Tarik nodded in return and reached toward Alex. "Come. I will show you our city with its splendid temples dedicated to Isis and the burial place of the first great physician, Djer."

  "The first?" Alex replied taking his hand. The warmth of his fingers traveled up her arm and lodged in her heart. Maybe she'd been wrong about wanting to leave just yet.