It seemed to Thalia that everyone onboard was becoming tense. She could feel it in the air, and she wondered if it was because they were nearing their destination.
Eleni was already packing Thalia’s trunks.
“Let us hope the wind holds so we can soon make landfall.”
Eleni looked guarded. “I am not ready to reach Bal Forea. On this voyage I have been allowed to feel important for the first time in my life.”
Thalia frowned. “Will you not be happy to see your family, Eleni?”
The woman, who was usually so charming, said in a harsh voice, “I no longer have family. There were five of us children, and we were poor. Often we went hungry because there was not enough food to go around.”
“I know what it is to be hungry,” Thalia said.
Eleni’s dark eyes grew even darker. “Forgive me for saying so, Highness, but how can you know what hunger is like?”
Thalia remembered her childhood in Rome, where more often than not, she went to sleep without enough to eat. “Then tell me.”
Eleni avoided Thalia’s eyes. “My four brothers died in the war, and soon after, my mother and father died.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Thalia said gently.
Eleni shrugged. “It was not so bad after I was sent to live with my aunt, who held the post of royal interpreter at the palace. She instructed me in Latin and Egyptian. Although I was not born into a noble family, I had the honor of being chosen to serve you. I believe it was because his majesty remembered my aunt with affection.”
Thalia imagined there were many sad stories on Bal Forea, but she sensed a change in Eleni, and it was deeply disturbing. In the past few days, the maidservant had become silent and distant, and she wondered why.
With a sigh, Thalia stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. Each day took her closer to her destination and her confrontation with the king.
Chapter Sixteen
A heavy mist shrouded the ship, and Thalia could not see past the small window in her cabin. She remained below deck reading the last of the scrolls.
By mid-afternoon the sun broke through, and Ashtyn sent Darius to request that Thalia come topside.
When Thalia stepped on deck, she was immediately bathed in golden sunlight. She stepped to the railing and stared at the green mountainous landmass where waves washed onto sandy beaches and the air was warm and moist.
The sails unfurled, taking them closer to land. Thalia could clearly see palm trees lining a winding road that swept upward and away from the beach to disappear somewhere in the mountainous terrain.
“Bal Forea?” she asked, glancing up at Ashtyn.
“Aye, Highness. The shoreline is deep, so the ship is able to dock at the wharf you see jutting out into the ocean.”
The water was so calm it looked like aqua-colored glass. “ ’Tis lovely to behold.”
“Aye, so lovely it takes my breath.” Ashtyn said, looking not at the scenery, but at Thalia. Then he looked away. “I have a request.”
She arched her brow at him.
“Eleni tells me she packed a breastplate for you at the king’s request. Would you mind being buckled into it before we make landfall?”
Knowing a breastplate fit snugly and was usually made for the person who would wear it, she was curious. “Perhaps it is too small or too large. How could anyone have known my size?”
His lips twitched in a smile. “I am told it was your mother’s. It will not matter that it is not a perfect fit—the reason I ask you to wear it is for the benefit of the people.”
“My mother’s?” She examined the island more closely. It didn’t feel like home to her. She felt no kinship with the citizens that dwelled there.
Ashtyn touched her sleeve. “Will you do this for them, Highness?”
She reached up and re-fastened the golden clasp that kept her hair pulled away from her face. “I will do as you request, although I think it will be of little matter.”
Ashtyn watched her walk toward the companionway. His heart felt heavy. As long as they were on this ship, Thalia was under his protection, and he could be near her daily. Once they reached the island, she would belong to the people, and he would be forced to step aside.
Or worse. When the king told her about the betrothal, she would never want to see him again.
The gown Eleni chose for Thalia was a lovely royal purple linen. On Thalia’s feet were a pair of golden sandals, and her hair had been released from its clasp and hung down her back to her waist. Her eyes were not outlined with kohl because Eleni had informed her it was not the custom on Bal Forea.
The maid reverently uncovered the breastplate that had been wrapped in a thick layer of lamb’s wool. Shyly she held it out for Thalia’s inspection. It was crafted of beaten gold, with a winged hawk etched in black enamel.
“Highness, the leather straps were worn from age so they were replaced before we sailed for Egypt. The last person to wear this was your blessed mother, Princess Jiesa.”
Thalia could not speak because her throat had closed off.
“Will you wear your mother’s armor, Highness?” Eleni asked, worriedly.
Thalia nodded. When Eleni slid the breastplate around Thalia’s torso, it fit as if it had been crafted for her. Thalia tried to breathe while Eleni fastened the straps in place, wondering why she wanted to cry.
When Eleni stepped back to look at Thalia, she fell to her knees with tears streaming down her face. “This is a glorious day, Highness. How happy the people will be to see you!”
Thalia steeled herself for what was to come. Drawing in a deep breath, she knew she could not delay the moment any longer. Slowly she climbed the steps and stood on deck. At first no one noticed her since the crewmen were busy bringing the ship into port.
Captain Darius was the first to see her. For a moment the giant man stood stock still, then fell to his knees before her, bowing his head. Next Captain Normah left his wheel and came to kneel before Thalia.
Ashtyn was standing at the railing with his back to her. When he heard the commotion, he turned slowly. For a long moment he could not move. The sun struck Thalia’s golden breastplate, and with her wheat-colored hair rippling in the wind, it was as if she stood in a halo of gold. Slowly he approached her, but he did not kneel to her as the others had done, because he knew it would not please her. Instead he took her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Gracious Highness, if ever you had doubt that you are your mother’s daughter, you should now know the truth.”
Thalia fought against the tears that were gathering behind her eyes. With effort she glanced across the deck, where every man was on his knees. There was such devotion on their faces, she almost wished she was the princess they believed her to be.
“Please,” she said to one and all in flawless Greek, “I beg of you, rise.”
One by one they stood but continued to stare at her. She reached out for Ashtyn’s arm and laced her hand around it, staring into his steady gaze. “I am frightened,” she said so only he could hear.
His throat had closed off, and he could do no more than whisper, “You will find only those who love you here.”
She was still gripping his arm as if it was her lifeline. “I want the ordinary life I left behind in Egypt.”
There was sadness in his eyes when he looked at her, but it was quickly gone. “I fear there is no going back.”
She gave her head a small shake. “If only …”
His tone was decisive. “ ’Tis too late.”
“I know why you asked me to wear my mother’s breastplate.”
“I told you why. For the people.”
“You only told me half the reason. You want word to reach Lord Sevilin that I have arrived in all my splendor.”
He did not deny it. Leading her toward the gangplank that was now being lowered into place, he compressed his mouth.
Thalia stepped away from him and raised her head to a proud tilt. If she was being used to bring the peop
le hope, she would walk ashore on her own. Glancing toward the crowd that had gathered and others who were running forward to join them, she almost reconsidered. The cobbled streets that led through the village were lined with silent watchers.
With her courage in hand, Thalia moved down the gangplank, reminding herself to put one foot in front of the other and not to trip. Head held high, she took her first step onto Bal Forean soil.
A stately-looking gentleman dressed in somber black with a wide golden chain about his neck came forward. His face was aged, the wrinkles as brittle as old parchment. He tried to present a dignified figure, but Thalia saw his lips tremble as he searched her face. He must have been satisfied with what he saw there, because he went to his knees and dipped his head. “May I welcome you home, Most Royal Highness?”
In that very moment the roar from the crowd was deafening. Flowers quickly littered the roadway, and there was happiness on every face.
Seeing Thalia’s unease, Ashtyn came forward and presented the stately-looking man to her. “Your Highness, this is the Lord High Chamberlain, Lord Parinez.”
The elder statesman, bent with age, bobbed his head awkwardly. “Long have I waited for this day, Highness.”
“I beg you rise, Lord Parinez,” Thalia said with growing unease. “There is no need for you to kneel to me.”
She watched the poor man rise with difficulty and lean heavily on an ebony-handled cane. She saw Ashtyn exchange glances with Lord Parinez. “Her Highness has not yet grown accustomed to the honor due her.”
Lord Parinez nodded. “It is understandable.”
Thalia stood near Ashtyn because he was familiar to her in a world whirling out of control. Several horses were led forward, and Ashtyn lifted Thalia onto the saddle of a white mare before mounting his own horse. Two lines of guards in full red and black armor carried the royal standards of the black hawk.
As they made their way through the village, the people dropped to their knees. Some reached out to touch Thalia’s gown—one young woman even lifted the hem and kissed it. Thalia saw hope mixed with tears on upturned faces, and she saw joy. Unlike in her beloved Egypt, where most of the populace had black hair, most of these people had hair near her own color. But all the eyes she gazed into were brown, not blue like her own.
Thalia was unaware she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. These people had found their way to her heart. They had lived with war for so long, they saw her as their savior. The pity of it was they would be disillusioned when they learned that, royal or not, she was but a girl and every bit as frightened as they were.
She fastened her gaze on the grand houses that sat against the distant hills. The houses that lined the road were little more than crumbling red-brick huts. The sight Thalia feared most was the palace atop the winding cobbled street, and the man who waited for her there.
Her grandfather, the king.
The palace gleamed in the sun like a red jewel. The gates were thrown open and guards, wearing red and black armor, stood at attention with hardly a flicker in their eyes as she drew near. But as the procession passed in front of them, they dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
It was strange, but Thalia could feel the love of these people wash over her. She thought her arrival would have been very different if Turk had brought her to the island. As if thinking about him conjured him up, she gasped when she saw him among the crowd. With a slight bow, he lifted his hand in salute and disappeared among the multitude.
Thalia glanced quickly at Ashtyn, but he had not seen Turk—he’d been watching her. Tightening her fingers on the reins, she trembled with fear. Turk was letting her know he was still watching her. As she rode beneath the wide archway to the outer courtyard of the palace, she remembered Ashtyn’s warning that the palace was peopled with Lord Sevilin’s spies.
Her gaze moved over the charred bastion, seeing the first signs of war. There were blackened walls where enemy catapults had flung fireballs, in places the walls were chipped, and there were even gaping holes where the bricks had fallen away. It was in that moment she clearly understood that the palace fortress was all that stood between victory and defeat for the villagers below.
As the procession entered another courtyard, Ashtyn held up his hand to halt. Dismounting, he moved toward Thalia and lifted her from her horse. With his hand on her arm, he guided her toward the entrance of the palace.
The moment Thalia entered the great room, servants went to their knees, and she felt even more wretched. She had been brought into a situation that was most dire, and there seemed no way out of it.
Her frightened glance met Ashtyn’s, and he mouthed the word “courage.”
Lord Parinez stood at Thalia’s right hand, and now spoke in a soft voice. “I had my doubts when Count Ashtyn set out to find you. But now that I have looked upon your face, I know you are indeed our Princess Thalia.”
She looked into his damp eyes. “Then you are more certain than I, Lord Chamberlain. Pray you do not pin your hopes on a myth that will soon fade into nothingness.”
The old man laughed, his eyes filled with mirth. “Even if I had doubts who you were, the words you speak would have convinced me. Highness, those words could easily have been spoken by your grandfather, the king.”
Ashtyn reached out to Lord Parinez. “How fares the king?”
Pain flashed across the creased brow, and Lord Parinez lowered his voice. “Poorly. He clings to life so he can set eyes on his granddaughter. It is good you arrived today. He refuses to allow the physicians to give him medicine to ease his pain until he has seen the princess.”
“Then let us go directly to him,” Ashtyn said, taking Thalia’s arm and leading her down a long, dark corridor.
The palace was a maze of chambers, and Thalia was sure she would never learn her way around. She saw dark places on the walls where tapestries had been removed, no doubt sold to pay for the war.
They walked through a garden choked with weeds, the flowering plants dying from neglect. The family suites revealed more evidence that precious treasures were missing, for the marble tables along the walls were bare of decoration.
Ashtyn paused before wide double doors that swept upward to a high, domed ceiling. “These are the king’s chambers,” he informed Thalia.
She nodded, gathering her courage. “Take me to him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Flickering lanterns cast dim light on the middle of the huge room but left the far corners in darkness. The chamber was cluttered with mementoes: a favorite chair, a desk piled with scrolls, couches that were worn and tattered—a lifetime of living was collected in this room. The marble floors were dull from lack of polishing. The smell of herbs and spices filled the air, but Thalia’s gaze was fastened on the bed half-hidden by filmy white curtains. A scribe sat on a rush mat, his legs folded, his stylus poised and ready to take down any words the king might utter.
Two men bowed to Thalia as Ashtyn led her forward. She assumed they were the physicians who attended the king. One of them pulled the curtain aside and attached it to a hook.
The room was so quiet, Thalia could hear her own breathing. Her only comfort was knowing Ashtyn stood at her side.
“Gracious Majesty,” the lord chamberlain said, “Princess Thalia has arrived.”
Thalia heard movement on the bed and a disgruntled voice issuing orders.
“Lift me up. Plump the pillows. I will not receive my granddaughter like a man going to his tomb!”
Thalia’s first glimpse of the king filled her heart with pity. He was gaunt and pale, his lips parched, his long white hair tangled about his face. Blue eyes, the color of her own, stared back at her.
She stood stiffly while he examined every detail of her face. Then he did something unexpected that wrenched Thalia’s heart: tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his hollow cheeks.
His seeking blue eyes perused her face. “You are the image of my Jiesa. You could be her returning in the flesh. Let ev
eryone within the hearing of my voice know that I proclaim this young woman to be blood of my blood, my granddaughter, and your future queen!”
His words struck Thalia like a lightning bolt. Was it as simple as that? A few words spoken, and her life would change forever? Her eyes locked with the king’s as she stated, “Majesty, you are mistaken.”
“Nay,” his voice cracked, “I am not mistaken. Would you question a sick man who has taken to his bed?”
She shook her head, thinking he had paled a bit more. “I am saddened to find you unwell. Please accept my good wishes for your recovery.”
He waved an agitated hand at the scribe. “Bring the princess a stool. I’ll not have her standing over me.” His bushy white brows arched. “Soon enough she will be raised above me, but not until I leave this world.”
In confusion, Thalia lowered herself onto the stool that had been hastily provided for her, wishing she could loosen the tight straps of the breastplate. She felt no kinship with the sick old man, but she did pity him. “If you are my grandfather, would you tell me of the woman you call my mother?”
King Melik’s jaw clenched. “Your mother was as frivolous as she was beautiful. She put her own needs ahead of those of her people. Had she remained and tended to her duty, we would not be at war.”
“As I understand it, she left so she could marry the man she loved.”
He nodded, all the while searching her eyes with a placid expression. “And forgot about her obligations. Let us hope you are not the romantic fool Jiesa was and are ready to accept your responsibility.” His hard gaze softened. “But then, you are only a woman. What do women really know about duty?”
Thalia was offended by his assessment. “Majesty, as a woman I was brought up to run a household, to manage servants and slaves. I was taught that a wife must see to her husband’s comforts and render him her loyalty. I know naught of the kind of duty of which you speak.” She stared at his blue-veined hands without seeing them. “My brother Ramtat could tell you of duty. I have seen Queen Cleopatra break her heart as she rendered sound judgment on a wrong committed by those she trusted. This is the only way I can answer you.”
Daughter of Egypt Page 12
