Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  “I’ll try to remember that,” Danaë said in a whisper. “But I see only darkness in the future.”

  “Hush now,” Minuhe said with the familiarity of a well-loved servant. “Think only of the happy memories you have of the master.”

  Danaë bowed her head. The future looked very bleak.

  Chapter Three

  Captain Narmeri impatiently paced the deck of his boat, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze on the dock as he waited for his passengers. If they didn’t come soon, he wouldn’t get under way until the heat of the day. It was already sweltering, and he longed for the cool breeze he’d find in the middle of the Nile. He heard voices and moved anxiously to greet the daughter of Lord Mycerinus as she made her way up the gangplank. Lady Danaë was flanked by a dour-faced woman who stayed at the right hand of her charge, while a fierce-looking bodyguard clamped his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Captain Narmeri’s gaze rested on Lady Danaë. It was said that she was a great beauty, and the captain was disappointed that she wore a heavy veil so he couldn’t judge for himself. Lady Danaë kept her head lowered as she walked past a group of boatmen who were openly gaping at her, while her guard scowled at them and moved protectively closer to his mistress.

  Captain Narmeri had often transported animals for the Royal Trainer and had even supped at Lord Mycerinus’s home on two different occasions. He had once caught a glimpse of the daughter from a distance as she’d walked in the garden, but the night shadows had hidden her face from him.

  The captain was taken by surprise when Lady Danaë paused in front of him, and his heart started pumping at twice the normal rate. No spoken word could pay homage to the beauty that was barely hidden by the thin veil she wore. Her features were delicate, her nose small and well shaped; her dark brows were black and perfectly arched. She somehow reminded him of a statue he’d once seen of a long-dead queen.

  The captain wasn’t normally sentimental where women were concerned, but this one’s beauty was such that he thought she could strike a man dumb by a mere glance. The hair that fell over her forehead was as black as cinder. Her glorious eyes were outlined with kohl, and as green as the grass that grew along the Nile. But no, on closer inspection, perhaps they were more turquoise, like the waters of the Mediterranean—or perhaps they were both. It was said that Queen Cleopatra had green eyes—but the queen was Greek, while this young woman was the daughter of an Egyptian.

  How, then, did she come by those green eyes? he wondered, wiping his sweaty face on his sleeve. “Welcome aboard, Lady Danaë. I hope we can make your voyage as pleasant as possible.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Are the cats and my hawk comfortably settled?” she inquired softly.

  The lady’s voice was deep and melodic, and Captain Narmeri could have listened to her talk all day and all night. He cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on her question. “They are, Lady Danaë. I hope you will find everything on board to your liking.”

  In that moment, when she smiled and her eyes danced with humor, the captain became her willing slave.

  “I’m certain to be comfortable. My father has often spoken of you, and as you know, you are the only boatman he ever trusts to transport our animals.”

  Captain Narmeri bowed to her. “Your father always honored me with his trust.”

  She nodded her head and moved away, leaving a lingering aroma of jasmine behind.

  He knew that from this day forward, he’d never smell jasmine without thinking of her.

  Suddenly Captain Narmeri was jerked out of his pleasant musing. One of his crewmen was staring in admiration at the lady, apparently unaware that her guard had whisked out his sword. Captain Narmeri smiled to himself, thinking the boatman was about to learn a valuable lesson that would serve him well, and also keep any other crew members from making such a foolish mistake.

  “Dear lady,” the boatman said admiringly, dipping into an awkward bow, “allow me to pay tribute to your beauty.”

  As if by magic, Faraji’s sword slashed through the air, the point coming to rest at the poor fool’s throat.

  “Pay tribute to my blade!” Faraji said in a menacing tone. “For it will open you up from ear to throat if you don’t move away. Now!” Faraji glanced about, catching the gazes of other boatmen. “Heed me well, any of you within the sound of my voice. Let no man approach my lady, or it will be the last earthly act he’ll ever perform in this life.”

  Two of the boatmen quickly backed against the railing, while several other men hurriedly turned away to attend to their appointed tasks with renewed dedication.

  “Sir, I meant no harm,” the luckless boatman pleaded, unable to move without being cut by the blade. He licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “I … I’ll not look upon the lady again if you will but allow me my freedom.”

  “Then move along,” Faraji said, sheathing his sword and giving the young fool a hefty shove. “If anyone else would like to test the point of my blade, let him come now. Otherwise leave my lady in peace.”

  Captain Narmeri shook his head grimly. “Let that be a lesson to all of you. Lady Danaë is my honored passenger, and you would do well not to trouble her or look in her direction. If you do, I will personally pluck out your eyes and feed them to the crocodiles, or maybe I’ll just let good Faraji lop off your head.”

  Miraculously, the deck cleared, and all hands were occupied with their duties.

  “Show me what space my lady is to occupy so I can see her settled,” the guard said, his smoldering gaze sweeping the deck to make sure his orders had been heeded.

  Danaë was grateful to have Faraji with her as she began her journey to her new life. Although she had felt pity for the young boatman who had been chastised and embarrassed before his crew mates, she was relieved that the men no longer stared at her.

  The captain motioned for them to follow him across the deck. “Since the Blue Scarab is not a passenger ship, there are limits to the comforts I can provide, Lady Danaë. As you see, I’ve curtained off this area near the bulkhead so you can have more privacy. Notice also I have put the cheetah and the leopard within your reach as I was instructed to do. Your hawk is also there”—he pointed to a smaller cage—“while your trunks have been stowed below deck.”

  “You are most kind, Captain Narmeri, and have followed my father’s instructions as always.”

  The captain looked pleased. “Please say the word if there is anything I can do for you. We will be getting under way at once.”

  As the captain left, Danaë bent down to Obsidian’s cage and tested the lock, which was of reinforced metal. “This should discourage you from trying to escape.” She tested the lock on the cheetah’s cage as well and nodded in satisfaction, certain it would hold. She reached inside Obsidian’s cage and stroked her soft fur, but the cat merely swished her tail and laid her head on her paws sulkily.

  Taking a deep breath, Danaë moved to the railing, where she glanced at the dock, which was now fading in the distance as the boat caught the wind and moved to the middle of the Nile. Although it was still mid-morning, the heat was already unbearable. She watched with only passing interest as a flotilla of barges drifted past, laden with their precious cargo of alabaster from the Hatnul quarries. If events had been different, Danaë would have looked upon this voyage as an adventure. As it was, her future was filled with uncertainty.

  “Come out of the heat,” Minuhe urged her. “See, I have made you a soft bed so you can rest.”

  “I was just thinking, Minuhe,” Danaë said achingly. “I cannot imagine where the future will take me.” A sudden cool breeze riffled her veil, and she lowered her head in misery. “I have no hope.”

  Minuhe could only shake her head. There were no words that would comfort her young charge.

  Turning her head skyward, Danaë felt the heat of the sun dry her tears. Her gaze drifted down to the mud-colored Nile, and she tried to close her mind to the sadness that was consuming her. “I have always despised Harique f
or the weak man he is, but I now despise him even more because he has forced me to leave my father and my home.”

  “Don’t speak of that evil man. You’ll be safe under Uriah’s watch, and you will never have to worry about Harique again.”

  Danaë felt the boat shift and glide forward as the sails filled, and the ship was soon running with the wind. “By now Harique has probably arrived at the villa, and if he is true to character, he has taken over the running of the place.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “As I can do naught to stop him, I must leave my father’s home to his cunning.”

  “That seems to be the way of it,” Minuhe agreed sadly.

  Danaë glanced across the deck of the Blue Scarab to her caged falcon, who gave several piercing calls that indicated he wanted to be released. The cheetah was accustomed to being confined in a larger area, but it seemed he had settled down nicely.

  Obsidian was still sulking and had turned her back to Danaë, her tail swishing back and forth imperiously.

  The captain yelled to his boatmen to put oar to water, and Danaë watched him set a course down the river. Captain Narmeri was a man of wide girth, and his features were fierce, his nose large and hooked as if it had been broken several times. His eyes were almost as black as his wig. A long scar cut deeply on the left side of his swarthy face, and his skin was as dark as old shoe leather. But she had no fear of the man because her father had trusted him.

  At sundown the captain anchored the boat just off shore. Because of its sandbars and shallows, the Nile was much too treacherous to navigate at night. Danaë lay on a soft, spice-filled mat, and Minuhe pulled the mosquito net together and lay down at Danaë’s feet. Faraji sat with his back against the bulkhead, ever watchful, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Danaë tossed and turned, thinking of her father—missing him and wishing she could be with him. Toward morning she finally fell asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying of the ship.

  Chapter Four

  “Lady Danaë,” Captain Narmeri said, ambling up beside her, “I hope this first week of your voyage has been to your liking.”

  When he smiled, the jagged scar spread across his face, and anyone not knowing him for the good man he was might be frightened of him. “All has been very much to my liking, Captain,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “You have done everything to ensure my comfort.” She glanced up at him worriedly. “I’ve never been this far from home, and I don’t know what to expect when we arrive in Alexandria.”

  He looked at her kindly. “Your father said as much to me he made the arrangements for your transport.” His brow knitted in a frown. “Forgive me, Lady Danaë, but I must say that I was saddened to see your father’s health failing. I didn’t want to speak to you about Lord Mycerinus lest the subject cause you grief.”

  She had been tracing the progress of a papyrus skiff as it sailed close to shore, and his words renewed her pain. Not knowing how to reply and not wanting to talk about her father, she merely said, “My father is gravely ill. Thank you for inquiring about him, Captain.”

  “But,” he said, watching the wind snap in the linen sails, “I promised Lord Mycerinus I would deliver you safely to Alexandria, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” He nodded toward the cages. “The cats seem to be faring well. Although the black devil looks a bit unhappy.”

  “Obsidian is my personal pet. She is not accustomed to being caged for such a long period of time—and she has never been on board a ship. How much longer until we reach Alexandria, Captain?”

  “All depends on the wind.” He scratched his chin. “I would say if conditions continue as they are, three days. I don’t know if you noticed it, but although the Nile flows toward the north, the wind blows to the south.”

  She nodded. “My father told me that Mother Nile is a marvel and sends us many gifts.”

  “Aye. That she does.” The captain glanced down at her, noticing how fair her skin was. “I’d caution you to stay in the shade today. Even with the cloud covering the sun, Ra’s rays can burn you to the bone.”

  “I’ll take your warning,” she stated, so deep in thought she was hardly conscious of the captain’s retreating footsteps until she heard him issue an order to one of his men from the other side of the ship.

  Around the noon hour, the Nile narrowed enough for Danaë to see rocks in the shallows. The boatmen were forced to disembark and attach ropes to pull the ship forward. It was a hazardous task, since the shores were infested with crocodiles. There were other hazards as well: hippopotamuses frolicked in the muddy waters, and on many occasions had been known to capsize a ship. A further irritant was the gnats and mosquitoes that pestered them when the wind wasn’t blowing to keep them away. As evening approached, the sun painted the sky dark vermilion. A short time later, the wind kicked up, filling the sails, and the Blue Scarab lurched forward, much to everyone’s satisfaction.

  It was almost dark when the captain steered the vessel to the shallows and secured it for the night at a small river port. When full dark struck, Danaë was glad she had a small lantern. She watched the flickering light fall across Minuhe’s face and asked, “Do you mind very much leaving the villa and moving to Alexandria?”

  Minuhe looked startled for a moment, because she had not expected such a question. A slave did as she was told, and no one ever asked if she minded. “Long ago I began to think of the villa as my home. Then one day I realized that my home will always be wherever you are. You have become the daughter I could never have.”

  “It seems you and my father both think of yourselves as a parent, but I’m the daughter of no one,” Danaë remarked glumly. When she saw the distress etched on Minuhe’s face, she forced a smile. “I’m happy to have you with me. Yours is the face I remember from infancy.”

  “My only wish has always been to care for you.”

  Danaë lay back and closed her eyes. Sleep soon took her, and she did not waken until she heard loud voices as the crew took on provisions.

  Captain Narmeri was glad they had finally left the Nile valley behind and were sailing on the smooth waters of the sea. The sun was at its zenith, and the weather was hot and balmy without the slightest breeze to stir the limp sails of his small merchant ship. With growing concern, he anxiously glanced upward. The azure sky seemed to be reflected on the surface of the mirror-bright Mediterranean, and it was difficult to distinguish where one left off and the other began. Captain Narmeri felt a shiver touch his spine, and his eyes narrowed apprehensively. Last night he’d witnessed a shower of stars falling from the heavens—surely it had been a bad omen, a foretelling of disaster.

  The good captain said a quick prayer that the gods would send a stronger wind to fill his sails and shorten the voyage. His men were getting restless and short-tempered—no doubt because there was a beautiful young woman on board, and they weren’t allowed even to glance in her direction.

  Captain Narmeri had another reason for feeling nervous: Even though his cargo of Nile fish was packed in kegs of salt, it would go bad if they didn’t reach Alexandria within a day. He was startled out of his musing when his passenger stepped over a coil of hemp rope and came to stand beside him at the railing.

  Until that moment, Danaë had kept much to herself, and he’d known she was grieving for her father, who had surely passed to the other world by now. The captain couldn’t guess why she was going to Alexandria at such a time, but it was not his business to know.

  Danaë nodded toward Pharus Island as it appeared in the distance. “My father told me about the great lighthouse. He explained to me that it not only serves as a beacon but also gathers weather information. It is truly a wondrous sight, is it not?” The wind had kicked up, and she watched waves wash over the causeway that connected the island to Alexandria. “One has to witness it to understand how truly magnificent it is.”

  The captain tried to look at the familiar sight through her eyes. He had seen the lighthouse so many times, it had become commonplace to him. “It has guided me safe
ly home on many a voyage,” he said.

  “Then you live in Alexandria?”

  “I spend most of my life on the Nile, but when in port, I call that city my home.”

  “What will we find when we arrive?” she asked. “I know the king and queen are at war, and that must put a strain on the citizens.”

  “Shh,” the captain cautioned. “Have a care. Don’t speak of such things—you never know who might be listening. You can get your throat slit for merely mentioning either of them to the wrong person.”

  Danaë frowned, wondering which of the royals the captain preferred to rule Egypt, the brother or the sister. “I’ll remember that,” she remarked soberly. “Captain,” she said hesitantly, “I would ask a favor of you.”

  At that moment she dropped her veil, and he stared at the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. Her neck was long and slender; her face shaped for beauty. Her eyes caught and held his gaze, and he could hardly bear to look away. In that moment he would gladly have granted her slightest wish. “Say what you want, and it is yours.”

  “My leopard, Obsidian—the black cat—is growing restless. She needs to be out of her cage.” She saw his features harden and hurriedly went on to explain: “Obsidian is quite tame and would never harm anyone. You have observed that these cats eat only cooked meat. Neither one of them has ever tasted raw meat, nor do they crave it. Therefore, no one on board will be in danger from Obsidian.” She smiled at him. “You have my word.”

  His first instinct was to forbid it, but the pleading in her eyes got the better of him. “You’ll need to keep the animal on a chain,” he said, knowing that this slight woman could not control the leopard if it should wish to escape its bonds. “Keep it at your side at all times.”

  “Thank you.”

  He glanced at his men, who were making ready to enter the port. “Stand over there.” He nodded toward the bow. “Be warned—if she escapes her chain, I will have my bowman bring her down.”