Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  Ramtat felt a cold hand move up his chest and squeeze his heart. The artist had artfully captured the young woman in a pensive moment. The face, the eyes, the delicate bone structure were almost the same as Danaë’s.

  Ramtat reached out and touched the woman’s likeness. “Majesty, may I inquire about the identity of this woman?” he asked, although in his heart he already knew who it was.

  “That is Eilana. Does she look familiar to you?”

  “It is very strange, because Lady Danaë resembles you, and so does this woman.” He turned to face her. “How can that be?”

  “She was my father’s cousin—and certainly of royal blood. Eilana’s father married my father’s younger sister. You can see why I have concerns.”

  Ramtat wondered if it was possible that Danaë and the queen shared a father. No wonder she refused to discuss her mother or anything about her identity. She was probably afraid it would mean her death. “Majesty, I have come to believe in Lady Danaë’s innocence. I would trust her with my own life—and more importantly, with yours.”

  Cleopatra was momentarily troubled. “Take the best care of this woman, and bring her directly to me when you have completed your task for Caesar. I will want to question her myself, and the fewer people who know of her existence, the better.”

  Ramtat bowed. “I will do as you say, Majesty,” but the usual conviction was missing from his voice.

  “Meanwhile,” Cleopatra went on, “I shall question those in the palace who knew Eilana. Perhaps someone can shed more light on this mystery.”

  Ramtat bowed low. “I hope the riddle will soon be unraveled and we shall know all, Majesty.”

  She nodded. “As do I.” She waved a hand in dismissal, her gaze on Eilana’s likeness, studying every feature. “You may leave now. Go directly to Caesar, for he’s expecting you.”

  Again he bowed, this time taking a backward step before the sound of her voice stopped him.

  “I would have you know this: Caesar holds the power in Egypt, and I admire him more than any man I know. I may even love him in my own way—but I will always do what is best for my people, and if you are loyal to me, so will you. You belong at my side, son of Egypt, not in Caesar’s army.”

  The more he came to know Cleopatra, the more he knew she belonged on the throne of Egypt. “First and foremost, you have my loyalty.”

  She smiled slightly. “I am counting on that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Danaë was awakened by a stirring of the morning breeze that brought the sweet aroma of flowers from the garden. There were footsteps outside her chamber as someone unlocked the door. A servant entered with a tray of food, and Danaë forced herself to sound cheerful. “Has your lord returned?”

  Although Danaë was certain the slave understood her, the woman silently shook her head and went about the task of unpacking a trunk that had been brought in the day before. Danaë had no interest in the beautiful clothing that had been provided for her or the richness of the bedchamber. Stoically she watched the young woman fold a fine silk garment and drape it across a wooden rack.

  This time, Danaë was determined that if the opportunity presented itself, she would find a way to escape.

  Later in the afternoon Danaë paced the chamber like a restless tiger. Since the women who attended her never spoke or answered her questions, she did not know when Ramtat would return.

  Danaë could not rest, and at night she could not sleep. Even now plans could be going forth to accuse her of treason or remand her to Harique’s custody. Lowering herself onto a stool, she buried her face in her hands and stared at her sandaled feet, feeling utter devastation.

  Danaë did not hear the soft bootsteps as Ramtat entered the room, nor did she know he was there until he knelt down beside her.

  “Can anything be so bad that it would cause this sadness I see in you?”

  She jerked her head up and stared at him. She was unable to see his expression because his face was in shadow, so she could not tell if he was being critical or if he genuinely cared about her state of mind.

  “If you have to ask, you cannot know what it feels like to be a prisoner. Do you think I should celebrate the fact that I may lose my life for reasons I don’t understand?”

  He eased himself onto the stool beside her. “Danaë, I need to know everything you can tell me about your mother. It’s important.”

  What he really wanted to know was whether her mother was Lady Eilana—now he secretly hoped she was merely the daughter of some unimportant slave. “I leave it to you to convince me otherwise. Is your mother still alive?”

  “A prisoner does not confess to her jailer. A slave has no right to a past life and no hope for the future.”

  He was stung by her words and ached for her sorrow, but he had to know the truth before he took her to Cleopatra. “I would like another look at the necklace you wear.”

  She hesitated. “The pendant is the one thing that belongs to me.” Then she shook her head. “Nay, that is not right, is it? Since I’m your prisoner, the necklace is yours for the taking.” She reached to the back of her neck, unclasped it, and dropped it into his hand. “Do with it what you will.”

  Ramtat studied the beautiful object carefully. It was the twin of the one worn by Lady Eilana in the drawing on the wall of the royal bath. He opened Danaë’s hand, placed the pendant in her palm, and closed her fingers over it. “ ’Tis yours, and no one will take it from you.”

  Her fist tightened. “You have taken everything else from me—why not this?”

  He gazed in to the distance as he spoke. “You accuse me when you seem to have built your life on lies? You claim a father who is not yours, and deny the mother who gave birth to you.”

  “What do you know that I don’t know?” Danaë asked. “You speak to me in riddles.”

  He shook his head. “I am here to get answers, not to give them.”

  Danaë merely glared at him.

  “The queen has commanded me to bring you to her.”

  “When? Today?”

  “Not for a few days.” He watched her for a moment while a plan formed in his mind. He was beginning to doubt he would be able to turn Danaë over to the queen after what he’d learned today. “Let me ask you something: Would you consider leaving Egypt with me?”

  “I don’t understand. Why would I want to do such a thing?”

  “Would you …” He stood. “No matter—’twas merely a passing thought.”

  She stared at him, puzzled.

  “I will be away for a while. There’s something I must do for Caesar. The war is over but for a few pockets of resistance scattered about the city and in the desert.”

  Silence fell heavy between them. Danaë flicked her tongue over her dry lips and turned away from Ramtat. Where once they had been as close as two people can be, they now had nothing to say to one another. She stood and brushed past him as if dismissing him.

  Ramtat listened to the whisper of her footsteps as she walked away from him, fighting the impulse to go after her. What if she was the daughter of a king? Then she would be as far above him as he had thought her below him when he had believed her to be a slave.

  Ramtat quietly left, locking Danaë’s door behind him—there was nothing more to be said. When he reached his chamber, he looked at the bed, weary and wishing he could get just one good night’s sleep. Danaë was in the next room, but he had to put her out of his mind. He would be leaving at first light, and the mission he was going on was the most important, and most dangerous, of his life.

  Danaë clasped her pendant tightly, feeling a deep ache. Why had Ramtat prodded her to tell him about her mother, and why had he wanted to see the pendant? Her father had warned her that her mother had been terrified of someone. Had Danaë unwittingly become a part of whatever her mother had fled? Had she stepped back into her mother’s past—was she now in the same danger?

  A lovely young woman with large brown eyes and a willowy shape entered, carrying the e
vening meal. The woman had long ebony hair which hung loose about her shoulders. She wore reed sandals and a rough linen shift—clearly, she was a slave.

  “Lady,” the slave said, bowing low. “The master instructed the cook to make every delicacy to please you. Will you not eat?”

  At last, here was someone she could talk with. “I will eat,” she said, finding she was hungry.

  “Shall I return to take you to the bath?”

  “I think a bath would be very nice.”

  The young woman hesitated as if she had more to say. “My name is Vika,” she said softly. “I have been chosen by the housekeeper as your personal servant.” She looked doubtful for a moment. “Unless you would prefer someone else.”

  Danaë paused with a sugared date halfway to her mouth. Was a prisoner entitled to a personal servant? She could see that the young woman was anxiously awaiting her answer. “I’d be pleased to have you serve me, Vika.”

  A look of pure joy spread over the woman’s face. “I will do everything I can to please you.” The maid went about the room folding clothing and gathering sandals that she would later polish with oil of palm.

  Danaë had been so lost in thought, she barely heard the woman move across the room and out the door, but she did hear the loud click as the key turned in the lock. When she returned to her meal, the food had grown cold, so she nibbled on a crust of bread.

  There was a certain urgency in the air now that she had reached Alexandria. Something had changed. She was in more danger than she had imagined, and she still did not know why.

  The bath was a huge room and luxurious beyond anything Danaë could have imagined. Brightly colored mosaics depicted veiled maidens dancing across the sand of a desert. The pool itself was deep, with wide steps on one side. The sweet scent of sandalwood wafted up from the water. It was pure delight for Danaë to sink into the water and feel it lap against her body.

  Vika nodded, and two other women poured warm water over Danaë’s skin. “This feels wonderful,” Danaë exclaimed. She dunked her head under the water so she didn’t see Vika and the two servants bow and back away from the pool, their eyes wide as Lord Ramtat entered.

  When Danaë emerged from the water, she noticed a pair of bare feet standing at the edge of the pool. Raising her gaze higher, she saw Ramtat dressed only in a white tunic.

  Ramtat quickly positioned his body so his manservant could not see Danaë’s nakedness. “Leave us,” he said, and the three women, along with Ramtat’s male servant, hurried out of the room.

  “I see you have come to bathe,” Danaë said, moving toward the steps. “If you will allow me a moment to dress, I will leave you to your bath.”

  Ramtat’s eyes were fastened on Danaë. Water streamed down her hair and across her lovely shoulders.

  Danaë’s face flushed as she glanced at the powerful man before her. “Had I known you wanted to bathe, I would have waited. I will just leave you now, and you can call your servant back.”

  He dropped down on the edge of the pool and slid his feet into the water. “Instead of leaving, why not allow me to be your attendant?”

  “Nay!” She backed away. “I will not do that.”

  Before she could stop him, he had removed his tunic and slid into the pool, swimming in her direction. “I come to bathe and find an enchanting mermaid in my bath.”

  Danaë was grateful for the foaming oils that helped cover her nakedness. She remembered when she and Ramtat had swum in the waterfall pool, and she knew she had to escape before she ended up in his arms. “Turn your head. I’m leaving, or you can leave.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “I have neither the will nor the inclination to leave when I have such tempting beauty before my eyes.”

  Danaë took a step backward, blood pounding through her body. This time she was not going to give in to him—she couldn’t bear to have him reject her again.

  “I was determined to keep a distance between us, but with you in my house, it has proved impossible.”

  He took another step toward her, like a man in a trance, and she did not move away this time. His fingers slid through her wet hair, and he stared down into her face. He bent to rest his cheek against hers, and she felt him tremble.

  “Do you truly want me to leave, Danaë?”

  She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice, so she shook her head. She felt him take a deep breath as he pulled her close, fitting her body against his. There were so many reasons she should not succumb to temptation, but she wanted to feel him inside her—she wanted to be held in his strong arms and to have him kiss her until she could no longer think.

  “Little green-eyes, if only you and I were just ordinary citizens and had not become entangled in court intrigue, I could have you for my own and never let you go.”

  She raised her face to his. “You are not ordinary, but I am.”

  He smiled, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “There is naught ordinary about you. Perhaps you are keeping a secret from me. Is the secret that you are of royal blood, Danaë?”

  Suddenly Danaë’s head cleared enough for her to push his hand away. “Are you addled? What kind of lies has Harique been telling?”

  Ramtat grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him forcefully. “Who is this man Harique to you?”

  “An enemy. Just as you are.”

  “I’m not your …” He broke off and stepped back. “It never occurred to me that you thought of me as your enemy.”

  “A blind man would have come to that conclusion days ago.” She moved to the steps and without embarrassment climbed out of the water, reaching for her linen robe. After wrapping it about her, she turned back to Ramtat to find him watching her.

  “I would ask a boon of you, if you do not mind,” she said.

  “Ask.”

  “I am accustomed to being outdoors. Being confined inside is very difficult for me. Would you give permission for me to walk about in the garden? Your walls are high, and you could set a guard on me if it would make you feel better. Just let me walk about for a portion of the day.”

  “You are very athletic. My wall may not hold you.”

  “I must be in the open air. I need to feel the sun on my face.”

  He could tell that she was distraught, almost frantic. When he had first met her, she was not easily intimidated by him or anyone. Now there were shadows beneath her eyes, she’d lost weight, and it had been many days since he’d heard her laugh. “I’ll arrange it.”

  She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  Ramtat watched her move to the door and disappear into the corridor. He closed his eyes and sank into the water to sit on the bottom step. He had been willing to take her out of Egypt. He still might have to if things went against her at the palace.

  Considering their situation, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, which was painted with blue and white cloud banks and bright sun rays. What if he took her back to the desert, where she would be safe and even Cleopatra would not be able to find her? His people would help protect her, for they could keep a secret better than anyone he knew.

  He shook his head. Danaë was already too enmeshed in court intrigues. This thing must be followed to the end. If not, she would never be free, and neither would he.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ramtat had been gone for four days. Danaë had overheard two guards outside her room mention that their master had left on a dangerous mission, although neither knew what it was. All she knew was that Ramtat had to do something for Caesar, and it had probably plunged him into the heat of battle.

  She sat brooding on her bed, waiting for the time when she could go into the garden. Ramtat had kept his promise, and each day she was allowed an outing in the morning and early evening. Unfortunately, there was always a guard nearby, which took much of the joy out of being outdoors.

  At last, the guard came for her. She walked along a graveled path and paused by a huge marble fountain depicting three graceful maidens pouring water from on
yx pitchers. Dropping onto a low bench, she dipped her hand into the water and watched it ripple to the sides.

  Her head ached—it was too hot to be in the sun—but she was reluctant to give up one moment of freedom. Moving toward the back wall, she stood under the shade of a tree, knowing the guard would soon seek her out to remind her that she must go inside.

  Danaë wished she could remain in the open until the sun went down and the stars filled the sky. She plucked a lotus blossom and breathed in the sweet scent. Her head jerked up when she heard the cry of a hawk circling above her. If only it was her Tyi—if only she could have something with her to remind her of her previous life, of freedom.

  Danaë frowned. With each circle the hawk came lower to the ground. At first she thought the bird might be closing in on some luckless prey, but the closer it came to her, the faster her heart beat. She stood as if frozen and held out her arm.

  Joy burst from her when the hawk landed on a branch above her and cocked its head, looking at her. She could tell by the distinct golden markings on his wingtips that it was her falcon!

  Again she held her arm out to him, even knowing his claws would hurt—but Tyi had been too well trained to land on her arm unless she was wearing leather protection.

  So he hopped to a lower branch and stared right into her eyes.

  How had he ever managed to find her?

  She glanced toward the house to make sure the guard wasn’t watching her, and she spotted him just on the other side of the fountain, talking to someone she couldn’t see. Cautiously she rose on her tiptoes and touched Tyi’s wing. The falcon cocked his beautiful head and hopped onto a still lower branch so she could reach him.

  “Tyi, my dear, wonderful Tyi. I don’t know how you found me, but I’m so glad you did.”

  Amazingly, Tyi leaned his head forward and touched it to Danaë’s cheek. Tears blinded her as she kissed the dark feathered head. “I have missed you so,” she said softly.