Her dimpled chin went up a notch. Until she could talk to Ramtat, she must either conquer her fear or give in to it, and she was not of a temperament to admit defeat.
The noonday sun beat down on the streets of Alexandria in white-hot waves as crowds of people moved through the marketplace. Unnoticed, a man mingled with the crowd, his gaze sweeping the marketplace for any trouble that might come his way.
Count Ashtyn quickly stepped beneath the shade of an overhanging palm frond that projected out from the front of the Green Jackal Inn. He waited and watched, making sure he was not being followed, before entering the taproom. His gaze swept the faces of the people seated at tables until he saw the man he sought. It was difficult to miss Captain Darius, a huge man with broad shoulders and hands that were larger than most men’s heads. Ashtyn motioned for the captain to join him upstairs.
Opening the door to the small chamber, Ashtyn ignored the strong odor of unwashed flesh that permeated the room. He avoided the filthy straw bed that was probably lice-infested and moved to the window, throwing wide the shutters and taking a deep breath of fresh air.
Ashtyn didn’t have long to wait before he heard Captain Darius’s unmistakable lumbering gait coming down the corridor. The door was thrust open and the big man stepped into the room, glancing back over his shoulder to make certain he’d not been followed. Before he spoke, he glanced about the filthy room, curling his lip in distaste.
Ashtyn knew that his captain’s past experience as a prisoner locked in a dank dungeon had made him uncomfortable in enclosed places, and this inn was no exception. “Has the scribe told you anything that can help us?”
Captain Darius moved to the window to stand beside his lord. “Commander, I had to ply the man with two jugs of wine in hopes of loosening his tongue. He told me nothing. But I believe he’s ready for you to question him.”
Ashtyn braced his hands on either side of the window, staring at the rubbish-littered alleyway. When he spoke, it was obvious he’d chosen his words with care. “I believe I made a grave mistake last night.” He turned back to Captain Darius. “I went to the Tausrat Villa and climbed the wall into the garden. The family was having a celebration, and I thought I might blend in long enough to find a servant who would talk to me about their young mistress.”
Captain Darius was shocked. His commander didn’t usually make such a mistake. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t a servant I encountered,” Ashtyn admitted. “The lady herself came upon me, taking me by surprise. Her tread was so soft, she was standing beside me before I could react.”
Captain Darius looked worried. “It is not easy for anyone to sneak up on you, Commander. You have the ears of a fox.”
“And the young woman has the tread of a cat.”
“What happened?”
“I frightened her.” Ashtyn looked at the big man. “I tried to warn her that she was in danger, but I did more harm than good. She didn’t believe me. I feel sure the guards have been doubled around the perimeter. I am forced to find another method to trap her.”
“You are sure she’s the one you seek?”
“She is King Melik’s granddaughter. Of this I have no doubt.”
“Then we can take the princess home at last.”
Ashtyn continued to speak as if he had not heard Captain Darius. “Although it was dark, I could see her hair was golden in color, and her eyes are definitely blue. Although she passes for a daughter of the Tausrat family, she is not of Egyptian blood.”
Skepticism crept into the captain’s voice. “Commander, many wealthy Egyptians have slaves from other countries—here you cannot judge them by hair or eye color.”
“Princess Thalia is no slave, but is considered a daughter of the house. She is the image of the statue of her mother, just as I knew she would be.”
“Do you still wish to question the scribe before he sobers?”
“Where is he?”
The big man leaned his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms over his broad chest. “I left him with his head on a table, attempting to make the room stop spinning. I gave the innkeeper a gold piece to keep him there until you are ready to interrogate him.”
“Take him to our camp and wait for me there. I want him out of the city so we will not be interrupted.”
“Will you not come with us?”
“Nay, we must separate. Leave my horse at the back door—I’ll join you later. I have a feeling we are being watched.”
Captain Darius nodded. If the commander thought they were being watched, they were. “Have a care—there might be more than one.”
“There are more, but there is only one who watches this place.”
Acting on instinct, when Ashtyn left the Green Jackal Inn, he doubled back, hiding in the courtyard in the shadows of a mud-brick storage house that gave him a view of both the back and front doors of the tavern.
His instincts had kept him alive in many dangerous situations. As was his habit, he made decisions without pausing to consider. Now he waited and watched as the evening shadows lengthened and night approached.
Ashtyn’s patience was rewarded when a man exited the inn, his gaze cautiously sweeping the courtyard, and Ashtyn recognized him as a rebel spy. Waiting until the man drew near, Ashtyn grabbed him around the neck and dragged him behind the shrubs. With a quick twist, Ashtyn heard a snap and dropped the limp man to the ground.
Gathering the reins of his horse, he mounted and rode toward the desert. If Turk and his followers were in Egypt, Ashtyn had to act quickly.
Chapter Six
Night had fallen by the time Ashtyn reached camp. He’d chosen a site on raised ground so he could see in every direction and spot the enemy before they approached. When he dismounted, Captain Darius was waiting for him.
“He’s beginning to coming around, Commander, and starting to ask questions. He wants to know why I brought him here.”
Ashtyn glanced at the man huddled close to the fire, shivering. Dressed in a simple linen tunic, the man was lean and short with thin lips. His black wig was askew on his head, and his dark eyes looked to Ashtyn for answers.
“You’ll not need to use force on this one, Commander,” Captain Darius observed. “I believe charm will work on him.”
The scribe tried to scramble to his feet as Ashtyn approached, but dizziness overcame him. Holding his head in his hands, he asked, “Lord, can you tell me where I am? The last thing I recall was drinking wine at the Green Jackal Inn with that man.” He pointed to Captain Darius. “And now here I am, and my head feels like it’s cracking.”
Ashtyn flashed a friendly smile, picked up a blanket, draped it around the scribe’s shoulders and sat down next to him. “So, good sir, wine makes your head ache, does it?”
“Not usually, Lord. But for whatever reason, I drank more than usual. Even now my head swims.” He looked up with blurry eyes, holding his hand over his mouth. “Why am I here?”
“Since you had consumed so much wine, you were vulnerable to every robber and cutthroat who frequented the inn. My man, Darius, brought you to our camp where you would be safe.”
Captain Darius nodded to himself. The commander had a method that always bore fruit: He would gain the person’s confidence by making them feel he was their friend and plying them with compliments until they were willing to spill their deepest secrets. He had seen hardened warriors tell Count Ashtyn everything he wanted to hear, and afterwards, thank him for the pleasure of doing so. Of course, when that didn’t work, there was always force, and he was good at that as well. But force would not be needed with this man.
“Darius would have taken you home,” Ashtyn continued, “but you were in no condition to tell him where you reside.”
Lady Larania’s scribe held his head, grimacing in pain while trying to settle more comfortably beneath the blanket. “I am not accustomed to the richness of the date wine. My pecuniary resources most oft run to grog or barley beer
.” He looked shamefaced for a moment. “You may find this hard to fathom, but it is not my usual habit to drink so much.” A sudden thought must have occurred to him, because he reached for his money belt as if he feared he’d already been robbed.
The scribe smiled and jabbed his elbow into Ashtyn’s ribs. “I beg pardon. I wrongly had the notion you and your man there might have brought me here to rob me.” He juggled his money pouch and shook his head. “Forgive me, eh?” he asked, his expression contrite.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Ashtyn assured the man. “We are all friends here.”
“I should go home,” the scribe said, trying to stand and falling back, his head bobbing to the side. “My mistress and her daughter will soon be leaving for the desert, and they will need my assistance to get the household in order.”
“My friend,” Ashtyn said, clapping the scribe on the back. “It is not safe to be about at this time of night. The roads are hazardous with footpads and scoundrels. Rest the night with us, and we will see you safely on your way at daybreak.”
Ashtyn’s advice must have seemed sound to the little man, because he relaxed a bit and settled lower into the blanket. “Why would you show such kindness to a stranger? You have an accent unfamiliar to me, so you cannot be from Egypt.”
“I am but a traveler in your country,” Ashtyn admitted. “I welcome this chance to speak with someone of intelligence who can explain your wondrous land to me.”
“I am an educated man,” the scribe said, warming to Ashtyn’s praise. “I am scribe for one of the most prominent families in all Egypt.”
Captain Darius was tethering the horses. “What did I tell you, Commander—Did I not say this was a man of some import?”
“Commander?” the man asked, now alert.
“ ’Tis but a title of respect,” Captain Darius quickly amended his statement. “I sometimes speak before I think.”
The scribe’s head was clearing, and he looked from one man to the other with distrust. “From where do you hail, and why are you in Egypt?” he wanted to know.
Ashtyn spoke in a calming voice. “We dwell on a small island beyond the great sea. I doubt you have heard of it.”
The scribe compressed his lips. “I have never been out of Egypt. But I would like to travel one day.”
Captain Darius saw that Ashtyn had completely won the scribe’s trust. He was glad, because he’d taken a liking to the little man and didn’t want to see him hurt.
“By what name shall I call you?” Ashtyn asked, his gaze sweeping across the man’s face.
“I am called ‘Klama, the scribe.’ ”
“And I am Ashtyn.”
“It’s fortunate that the two of you befriended me, else I would surely have been robbed.”
“Do you live in the city?” Ashtyn asked, knowing full well where Klama lived.
“Nay, nay. I dwell just a bit south of the city on a large estate belonging to the Tausrat family. I have but newly been hired to see to the mistress’s household finances. I count myself fortunate to work for such a fine family. I can tell you it is not always so with men in my profession.”
“Tell me about the family you work for, my new friend Klama. What are they like?”
Captain Darius smiled to himself as he sliced cheese and placed grapes in wooden bowls, handing one to each man. The commander continued to weave his magic. The poor foolish scribe would tell Count Ashtyn everything he wanted to know, and never be the wiser for it.
“The head of the Tausrat family is Lord Ramtat. He is adviser to Queen Cleopatra herself—you may not believe this, but Lord Ramtat’s wife is half-sister to the queen. On his mother’s side of the family, Lord Ramtat inherited the title of sheik to the Badari Bedouin.” Klama took a bite of cheese and mulled over his next words. “As you see, I have ties to a most important family. The eldest daughter is married to a Roman lord and spends half her time in Rome and the other half in Alexandria. I have not yet met her—but the whole family will be gathering at the desert encampment for some kind of celebration.”
Captain Darius handed Count Ashtyn a wooden cup of wine and offered one to the scribe as well, but the little man refused with a shake of his head. The scribe continued to speak with pride of the Tausrat family, and Captain Darius smiled to himself, thinking the commander wouldn’t be able to keep this man from talking if he tried.
Ashtyn took a sip of wine and leaned back on his blanket. “I thought the queen’s sisters and brothers were all dead. Had I heard wrongly?”
“I don’t know the particulars, but the queen is very fond of this sister.” He prattled on without the slightest urging. “I have actually seen the queen on two occasions when she visited Tausrat Villa. Queen Cleopatra is magnificent in all her finery, but she acts like one of the family when she visits. Of course, the queen took no notice of me, and why should she?”
Ashtyn met Darius’s gaze as they both realized that the Egyptian queen having such close ties with the family was not welcome news. There was danger in rousing Cleopatra’s anger, for her husband was Mark Antony, the most powerful man in the world.
Antony and his Roman legions could swarm over Bal Forea like a destructive wind. And in truth, the Roman Proconsul would not hesitate to draw the island’s population under Roman domination. The only reason Rome had paid no heed to Bal Forea thus far was because it was too insignificant for them to bother with. And those who had tried to conquer the island in the past had given up when they discovered how difficult it was to fight their way through the inhospitable mountainous regions.
“So there is but the one brother and sister in the Tausrat family?” Ashtyn continued to prod.
“Nay, there is one other. Lady Thalia is quite the beauty—sweet and kind as well. One does not always find those qualities in such a grand young lady. She always speaks my name in greeting.”
Ashtyn glanced at the campfire, watching it die to smoldering embers. “This daughter, Lady Thalia, is she wed?”
“Nay. But it is not because she has had no suitors. Young gentlemen hang around her like bees drawing nectar from a flower, but so far she will have none of them. I am not saying she discourages them, but she does not encourage them either.”
“Then she is a flirt.”
The little man’s face reddened in defense of the lady.
“No one would dare called her that, except perhaps some of the young ladies who are jealous of her comeliness. She is just too kind to send anyone from her side.”
“So your mistress has two daughters and one son.”
“That is not exactly the way of it,” Klama said, finally reaching for the cup of wine and taking a sip. “This is an interesting story, and you may not believe me, but I swear it is the truth. My mistress’s younger daughter, Lady Thalia, was actually rescued from the streets of Rome when she was but a child. Lady Adhaniá brought my little mistress to Egypt. Lady Larania adopted her, and I have seen for myself how Lady Thalia is loved, just as if she’d been born of their blood.”
Ashtyn’s eyes gleamed. This was his final proof. His search was over.
He had found the lost princess!
His princess.
Captain Darius tried not to smile as he gathered the bowls and scraps of food. “I suppose we’ll be leaving before sunup,” he said loudly.
“Aye. That we shall.”
“You know,” the little scribe said, with brow furrowed, “speaking of Lady Thalia, I heard her talking to Jamal, the head guard, and she believes someone is trying to kidnap her.”
Ashtyn looked at him sharply. “Why should she think that?”
“As I heard it, a one-eyed stranger came upon her in the fields and was intent on capturing her. I can tell you Lady Thalia is not one to spook easily. After all, she survived on the streets of Rome.” He popped a grape in his mouth and waited until the sweet juice ran down his throat, not seeing his host stiffen. “My mistress has been ill lately, and Lady Thalia refuses to upset her. She has ordered the servants n
ot to speak of the one-eyed man to her mother.”
Ashtyn drew in a deep breath. “Surely your young mistress understands the danger to herself.”
“She still goes about like nothing happened. I can tell you the head guard, Jamal, is plenty worried.”
“Tell me about this man with only one eye.”
“I know nothing but what I overheard.”
Ashtyn clenched his fists, and his gaze met Captain Darius’s. Turk had found the princess! They must act quickly before he had a chance to capture her.
Ashtyn rose to his feet and gazed back toward Alexandria. He must strike fast and hard!
Chapter Seven
Dressed in a short white tunic with gold ribbon crisscrossing beneath her breasts and golden amulets clasped about her upper arms, Thalia laced her sandals to her knees. For the past few days, she had allowed fear to keep her confined to the safety of the house. But today she had awakened determined that nothing was going to keep her from going into Alexandria on an errand for Ramtat.
A short time later, a hot breeze kissed her face and tangled her hair. She maneuvered her chariot down the rutted road, delighting in the high-stepping gait of the matching whites. The horses were born and bred by Ramtat’s fierce Bedouin tribe and were the most sought-after breed in all Egypt, perhaps in the world. They were so graceful that everyone stopped what they were doing to stare after the horses when her chariot passed.
Safra, however, did not admire them. When her young mistress swerved around a corner, Safra swayed, gripping the top side of the chariot, her face the color of paste. Jamal and six mounted guards rode behind Thalia, scanning the countryside for any sign of danger.
The guards had been added at Jamal’s insistence, and Thalia was glad for the extra protection.
Poor Safra trembled with concern when Thalia urged her whites to a swifter pace. Nervously, she tugged at Thalia’s sleeve. “Mistress, are we not going too fast?”
“You worry too much,” Thalia assured her, smiling and sweeping around yet another corner with controlled ease. “Did you not hear my brother Ramtat say I was almost as good a charioteer as those who race in the great Circus of Rome?”
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