Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  He helped Danaë from her horse and led her toward the house.

  “Who lives here?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “But I thought you lived at a villa near the waterfall.”

  “I have several residences. You will be expected to remain here until I decide what to do with you.”

  Danaë stopped and waited until he turned to face her. “Why do you think you’re entitled to such control over my life? Are you going to keep me your prisoner forever?”

  He let out an impatient breath and ran his hand through his hair. He had no answer for her, so he just took her by the arm and led her forward.

  Danaë was miserable as Ramtat guided her through a beautifully landscaped garden filled with fountains and flowering fruit trees. The gravel on the walkway crunched beneath her sandals as she walked toward the steps that led to the sprawling white villa.

  When they reached the huge double doors, she was reluctant to go in, fearing she would never be allowed to leave. She turned her attention to Ramtat and did the one thing she thought she would never do: She pleaded with him: “Please let me go home. Can’t you see I’m a danger to no one? You can’t believe I would harm the queen, or anyone, for that matter. There is fighting, men dying in the streets. You no longer need to keep your allegiance to Rome secret; how can I be a threat to you anymore?”

  Ramtat frowned, and she saw him hesitate.

  He knew Danaë was not a woman who pleaded for anything. In that moment, he would have liked nothing better than to take her to her own home.

  But the queen had commanded him to bring Danaë to the palace, and when the fighting in the city was over, he would do just that.

  “You will remain here.”

  “So I am to continue to be your prisoner?”

  His mouth settled in a hard line. “Look at it any way you like. You will be treated with the same courtesy you received at my encampment.”

  Her head sagged. “Not knowing what is going to happen to me is the hardest part. Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Why don’t you trust me? Tell me the secrets you are hiding.”

  Danaë looked into his dark eyes and saw no yielding in their depths. “Lock me away, then. It is the kind of life I have grown accustomed to since coming to know you.”

  He turned and led her inside, through halls with polished white marble floors and walls. They progressed through a room that was graced by a waterfall and colorful mosaics. If Danaë had not been so miserable, she would have appreciated the tall columns inset with carvings of lotus blossoms brushed with gold.

  “Master!” a woman cried, hurrying into the room and bowing low. “Had I known you would be arriving today, I would have had everything ready for you.”

  “Do not speak of that, Neva,” he said briskly. He pulled Danaë forward. “This woman is to be my guest for a time. Her name is Danaë. She is to be confined, and not allowed to walk about on her own. But see that she is shown every courtesy and provided with every comfort.”

  Again the woman bowed. “Is she to be a prisoner?”

  “Aye. Until I say otherwise. Put her in the blue bedchamber.”

  The servant looked shocked. The master had never before brought a woman to the house. “The room next to yours?”

  “Just do it,” Ramtat said in an irritated voice.

  Danaë’s face reddened under the woman’s close scrutiny.

  “I will make certain that she is well tended,” the servant said.

  “Send Hafa to me and have him lay out my armor.”

  “It will be as you say, master.”

  Danaë raised her gaze to Ramtat. “Why not make me your slave? I could work in your stables tending the animals—or would you rather I was assigned kitchen duty?”

  He looked at her through lowered eyelids. “As you know, your fate is not in my hands.”

  Danaë watched him move across the room and disappear through an arched doorway at the end of the corridor. The man who had held her in his arms and introduced her to the joys of the flesh now treated her like a criminal. She turned to the servant and found her still staring at her.

  “What did you do to the master that he should want to imprison you?” the woman asked.

  Neva was wide of girth, and her gray hair was pulled back and styled in the Grecian manner. Her dark eyes held no spark of compassion, and Danaë knew it would do no good to try to gain her freedom with this woman’s help. Ramtat surrounded himself with loyal servants, or perhaps they were just too afraid of him to disobey. “If you find out what I have done to deserve captivity, I wish you would tell me, for I do not know.”

  “Come with me,” Neva said sternly. She motioned for the guard who was stationed at the door to follow them. “Don’t attempt to escape from this place—it isn’t possible.”

  The guard, a tall, handsome man with dark hair and eyes, regarded Danaë with suspicion. “Neva is right,” he said briskly. “Someone will be outside your door to prevent you from leaving.”

  It felt to Danaë as if the walls were closing in on her. She could not guess what fate awaited her, but she doubted it would be a happy one. When she was led into a large bedchamber, Danaë was too dejected to notice her surroundings. While she stood in the middle of the room, the servant and guard departed, and Danaë heard the grinding of a key in the lock.

  She hung her head as sorrow washed over her.

  “Oh, Father, if only you were here to advise me,” she cried, sitting on the edge of the bed and then laying her head against its softness.

  “Surely I will never leave this place alive.”

  As for Ramtat, he paced the length of his apartment, irritated with himself because his thoughts turned too often to the green-eyed beauty in the next room. Even now he thought of her graceful walk, the stubborn set of her chin, the creaminess of her throat.

  He closed his eyes; what was the matter with him? He wanted to go to her, to do whatever it took to see a smile on her face.

  He felt himself weakening, and he stiffened his resolve. The words she had flung at him just a few days ago haunted him still. To choose love over duty was a weakness he would not allow himself.

  Angrily he removed his sword and tossed it onto his bed. He would cut her out of his heart, or he would never know a moment’s peace.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ramtat tried to avoid the streets where the fighting was heaviest and found his way to the palace grounds through the secret passages. When he entered the main palace courtyard, which was heavily guarded, the Roman guard on duty immediately escorted him to Caesar’s quarters.

  When Ramtat stepped inside the door, his gaze went first to Cleopatra, who was having an intense argument with the proconsul of Rome, and then to Caesar, who seemed to be enjoying himself, if the smile on his face was any indication.

  Not wanting to disturb the two of them, Ramtat waited to be noticed.

  “By sending my brother to head his own army, you have given him leverage against us both. You are outnumbered, Great Caesar—you have made a tactical error.”

  Caesar seemed amused by the young queen. As Ramtat studied him closely, he decided the proconsul was more than amused by her—he was enchanted.

  “Child, do you think I would be so foolish as to give myself the disadvantage? I have probably just made you undisputed Queen of Egypt, and you thank me by criticizing my methods of raising you to a solitary throne.”

  Cleopatra had a quick, intelligent mind, and it took her only a moment to grasp Caesar’s meaning. She tossed her hair in a flirtatious manner and touched Caesar’s arm, allowing her fingers to drift up to his shoulder. “You did not call me ‘child’ last night, or the night before that.”

  Caesar cleared his throat. “I believe we have a guest.” He nodded at Ramtat. “Have you news for us?”

  “Approach,” Cleopatra said authoritatively. “Did you find the woman you spoke of?”

  Ramtat bowed low. “I did, Majesty. She has been safely placed u
nder guard at my villa.”

  “Why did you not bring her to me?” Cleopatra demanded.

  “I tried, Majesty, but the fighting in the streets made it too dangerous.”

  “Yet you managed to arrive without harm,” Caesar said speculatively. “Surely you knew I would have the palace well guarded?”

  Cleopatra’s eyes narrowed to green slits. “Lord Ramtat, you well know I expected you to bring the woman here. If she is part of some devious plan to cause me harm, I have men who can make her confess.”

  Ramtat’s stomach knotted at the thought of placing Danaë in the hands of some ruthless jailer. “With your permission, I myself will discover the truth.”

  Caesar stepped near Ramtat, studying him closely. He smiled and turned to regard the queen. “I believe our Lord Ramtat is taken with this woman.” He looked questioningly at the young lord. “What is her name?”

  “Lady Danaë.”

  “Or her name may be ‘assassin,’ ” Cleopatra said, looking Ramtat over carefully. “She’s already accused of being a slave who passes herself off as a noblewoman.”

  Caesar laughed heartily and clapped Ramtat on the back. “At last you have found a woman who pleases you, and she may be a dangerous spy. I applaud your originality.”

  Cleopatra looked displeased as she stalked closer toward Ramtat. “Your heart’s wishes do not take precedence over my life. Is this woman under lock and key?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “You will bring her to me tomorrow, no later than the noon hour.”

  Caesar clasped his hands behind him and walked around Ramtat, still smiling. “I believe you are reluctant to give the woman over to us. Have I got it right?”

  Ramtat could feel his face redden. “I merely want to see justice done. If she is innocent, she should not be subjected to the indignities of being imprisoned with criminals.”

  Caesar spun around to look at Cleopatra. “I believe we can safely leave this woman in Lord Ramtat’s custody until such time as we are ready to question her. If Lord Ramtat has her under guard, she can be no danger to you.”

  Cleopatra nodded reluctantly. “Guard her well,” she warned petulantly. “Should she escape, I will hold you responsible.”

  Ramtat bowed.

  “Now that that is settled, there is something I would have you do for me,” the queen stated, tapping her finger on her chin.

  Again Ramtat bowed. “I am yours to command.”

  “Never doubt that Lord Ramtat is your man, ” Caesar said, still amused as he glanced at the queen. “The scoundrel is loyal only to you and Egypt. He never allows me to forget that he serves me only because it is in your best interest.”

  The queen smiled, and Ramtat drew in his breath—in that moment her resemblance to Danaë was unmistakable. Danaë and the queen were even close to the same age. In truth, Danaë was the more beautiful of the two—but the fact that they were so alike had to be more than mere coincidence.

  “I don’t want my most loyal subject near the battle,” Cleopatra stated. “I would have him near me as my personal bodyguard.”

  Ramtat bowed. Although he would much rather join the battle and protect Alexandria, he could not deny the queen’s wishes. “It would be my honor.”

  “Nay,” Caesar argued. “First, there is something I must have him do for me before I retire him from my service. He is the one man I can trust completely to perform this errand.”

  Cleopatra looked as though she might debate the point but gave in with a nod. “I give him over to you, but just for this one thing. Then I shall take him back.” She looked curious. “What is it that requires my high lord’s personal attention?”

  “I would have him find out exactly where your brother is. You would like to know that, would you not? And who but Lord Ramtat would know his way around the battlefields and be able to slip in and out without notice? Certainly not one of my Romans.”

  “ ’Tis too dangerous,” the queen insisted.

  “We live in dangerous times, my dear,” Caesar reminded her, all the while watching Ramtat. Caesar knew the young lord well enough to see he was disturbed about something. “What troubles you, Ramtat?”

  “I’m not exactly troubled. I was merely trying to solve a puzzle that worries my mind.”

  Caesar’s voice held an undertone of curiosity. “Well, speak of it—by all means, let us know what you are thinking.”

  Ramtat nodded grimly while watching the queen. “It’s just that Lady Danaë has an uncanny resemblance to you, Majesty—even to the color of her eyes. And there’s another piece of the puzzle: Lady Danaë wears a pendant of great value, a pendant with royal significance. When I questioned her about it, she became secretive and said only that it had belonged to her mother.”

  Cleopatra’s lips thinned in irritation. “Most probably the mother gave birth to one of my father’s by-blows. She was probably a slave who caught my father’s fancy.”

  “I have considered that possibility,” Ramtat admitted.

  “Describe the pendant to me,” the queen said. “What does it look like?”

  “I can do better than that if you will allow it, Majesty. I believe I can draw it for you.”

  The queen nodded to indicate a table stacked with papyrus and an ink pot. “Do so.”

  Ramtat dipped a prepared reed in ink and scribbled on the papyrus, then handed it to the queen. He watched her study the drawing, and saw her face whiten.

  “Are you certain this is the exact design?”

  “Yes, Majesty. It is crafted in gold in the shape of a coiled cobra. The eye is a very large emerald.”

  “I know this piece. My father had the royal goldsmith design and craft two pendants just alike. One for my mother, and the other for …” Her voice trailed off, and her face grew whiter still. She dropped down onto a padded stool and shook her head. “It has long been thought that the recipient of the second pendant was dead. If the woman still lives, or if this Danaë is her daughter, she may well be a danger to me in ways you cannot imagine.”

  “Nonsense! I have never been convinced this slave, if slave she is, could be a threat to you,” Caesar stated skeptically.

  Her face expressionless, the queen leaned forward so she could look into Ramtat’s eyes. “I must know if she is the daughter. I must now consider the possibility that she may be attempting to supplant me.”

  “Of whom do you speak?” Caesar insisted. “Who is the woman your father gave the jewel to?”

  “Eilana was the daughter of my father’s most trusted general, Commander Alekos. One of his early ancestors was among the men who accompanied the great Alexander when he conquered Egypt. It is even said that he was a relative of the great Alexander. I don’t know all the details, but the general was from a highborn family, and I believe I heard my father say that Eilana’s father was of pure Greek lineage, the same as we Ptolemies. I grew up on stories of his daughter’s rare beauty, and how men couldn’t help falling in love with her—my father being no exception. It was even whispered that my father married her, but if that is so, there is no documentation.”

  “What happened to her?” Caesar asked, drawn into the story.

  “She disappeared not long before I was born.” Cleopatra looked into Caesar’s eyes. “It was said she was fleeing from one of my father’s other wives who meant to do her harm. It is also whispered that she was carrying my father’s child when she fled.” The queen’s eyes widened, and a small curve touched her bottom lip. “If this woman is Eilana’s offspring, there could be those who would use her to take my throne.”

  Ramtat took a deep breath. “I cannot believe Danaë would become involved in a plot to steal your throne.”

  “Lord Ramtat, you are not thinking with your head but another part of your anatomy,” the queen declared with disgust. “This woman has power over you—I can see that. You are allowing your love for her to interfere with your duty.”

  Ramtat was shocked.

  The queen’s green gaze never lef
t Ramtat as she stated, “I will discover the truth about this woman. If it happens that she is Eilana’s child, she must be eliminated.”

  “She may be naught but the daughter of a slave,” Caesar suggested yet again, watching the strained emotion revealed in Ramtat’s eyes.

  Cleopatra shook her head. “Who can say? But I intend to find out.” Her gaze locked with Ramtat’s. “Accompany me—I would show you something.”

  The queen swept out of the room, and Ramtat followed while Caesar dismissed the matter and turned to study his maps and plan his strategy for the continuing battle.

  The queen’s footsteps were light as she led Ramtat through marble corridors decorated with tall Corinthian columns, past a room with ornate couches, and rooms housing irreplaceable treasures the Ptolemy family had collected over the years.

  At last she stopped before double doors of hammered gold. “This was my father’s bath and bedchambers,” she told Ramtat. “No one uses the suite now.”

  Ramtat followed her past the massive bed with gossamer netting, past a dressing chamber that still held the late king’s clothing. Passing through another set of double doors, Ramtat realized he was in the most elaborate bath he’d ever seen. Gold and marble was the theme that ran throughout. But what caught and held his attention were the figures depicted on the walls. One showed a battle with the great Alexander—there was no mistaking the image of the goddess Isis receiving the spirit of a Ptolemaic queen. He moved along a wall worked in turquoise that depicted a priest pouring a pitcher of sacred Nile water onto a king’s head.

  Queen Cleopatra nodded at the back wall, which was painted in bright colors—it appeared to be a painting of family life. “Look carefully at the women there, study their faces—see if you recognize any of them.”

  Ramtat moved down the wall, his gaze inspecting every face. There was a scene of Cleopatra’s father on the throne, and one of him with his children on what seemed to be an outing. Ramtat did not recognize any of the other faces at first, but then his gaze fell on a woman dressed in blue, smiling up at the figure of the king.