Then her gaze dropped to the hawk’s leg. “What is this—” She untied the leather strap and found a tiny strip of papyrus rolled up inside. It had to be from Uriah—he’d found her!
Again she glanced toward the guard. She couldn’t see him, and that was unsettling. She would rather know where he was than have him come upon her unaware.
“Lady Danaë,” the man called, moving down the walkway toward her. “It is time to leave.”
“Can I not stay a few moments more?” she asked, tucking the small bit of papyrus inside her sash. “I have a longing to see the sunset.”
The guard’s name was Ma’sud, and he was one of Ramtat’s Bedouins. The man treated Danaë with respect, but she would use him in any way she could if it meant her freedom. There were times when she thought she saw pity in his dark eyes as he looked at her. She watched him waver, and then he gave her a stiff nod.
“I see no harm in it.”
He turned away, and she glanced up, disappointed that Tyi had taken to the air. She wanted to call him back, but that would be too dangerous, so she watched until the falcon was no more than a tiny speck against the darkening sky. Eager to read what was written on the papyrus, she stepped into the shadow of the cypress tree, where she would not be disturbed. The writing was small, and in the gathering shadows, it was difficult to decipher:
I will be here every day at this time.
It was unsigned, but she knew Uriah’s hand. She tucked it back into her sash, her heart feeling light for the first time since she’d been imprisoned here. Here was her chance to escape!
She could not think how Uriah had managed to find her, but he had. She allowed her gaze to skim along the rock wall, and her heart stopped.
Uriah!
The high wall must have been a difficult climb for him. He had cleverly hidden himself in the branches of a cypress tree. He motioned for her to come closer, and she held up her hand and nodded.
Keeping her steps unhurried, Danaë walked around the fountain and found the guard talking to Vika. Apparently, the two of them were more than friends: He was holding her hand and looking lovingly into her eyes.
Their feelings for each other could work to Danaë’s advantage. If they would linger a while longer, Danaë might manage to talk to Uriah.
She casually moved toward the wall, stopping only when she was even with the cypress tree.
“Can you hear me?” Uriah asked.
She nodded.
“I learned three days ago that Lord Ramtat had returned to Alexandria. On the slight chance that you might be with him, I have come here every day since. I saw you yesterday, but I had no way to draw your attention.”
“So you thought of using Tyi.”
“I will never again doubt that hawk’s intelligence. When I tied the papyrus to his leg, he knew exactly what to do.”
Danaë bent, giving the impression she was removing a pebble from her sandal. “Have a care. I would not want the guard to discover you.”
“Are you in danger?”
“I am, Uriah. Real danger.”
“Has Lord Ramtat hurt you in any way?”
Hurt her? He had ripped her heart to pieces. “No one has harmed me … yet.”
“Then we must get you away as quickly as possible.”
Excitement thrummed through her. “How will we do it?”
“The guard seems distracted by that woman,” Uriah said. “Is theirs a relationship you can use to our advantage?”
Danaë looked pensive for a moment as she tried to think of a way she could trick the lovers. Feeling only a prickle of guilt, she said, “Perhaps I can.”
“I will be here at the same time tomorrow. Try to find a way to make it to this wall.”
She nodded, not daring to linger any longer lest the guard become suspicious.
“Until tomorrow.”
Ramtat slipped over the side of the reed boat and waded ashore. The night was dark, and he could see nothing as he stood on dry land waiting for the appearance of the man he was supposed to meet.
Hearing movement, Ramtat spun around to face the man who came up behind him.
“Have you come from Caesar?” the man asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
“I have. Has there been a positive identification of the body?”
“I saw him for myself. I was told the boat capsized, and he drowned.”
“You are certain?”
The man handed Ramtat a golden amulet. “This was on the body.”
Ramtat clutched the object in his fist. “Then it’s over.”
“Not entirely.” Another man appeared out of the darkness, and then another. “Your dead body will be a special message to that Roman you serve.”
Ramtat’s hand went to his sword. “What is the meaning of this!”
“You are no son of Egypt if you serve that Roman cur.”
Ramtat’s sword swung through the air. “So you serve Ptolemy—a dead king.”
“Proudly,” stated the man who was obviously the leader. “We discovered your Roman spy among us, and if we didn’t have to kill you, you could inform Caesar his spy told us everything we wanted to know before he died. I took his place and met you in his stead.”
Ramtat’s sword swung forward to clash with one of the other men’s swords, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid a dagger thrust. At first he felt nothing, and then his side burned as if on fire. He gritted his teeth and bore the pain, knowing he must not show weakness. “I will tell Caesar I stood over your dead body.”
Two of Ramtat’s soldiers leaped out of the boat and rushed into the fray. Swords clashed, and three men fell dead—one of Ramtat’s men and two of the enemy.
Ramtat grasped the handle of the dagger and yanked it out of his side, feeling the heat of blood running down his leg. He hit the only man still standing with his elbow, knocked him down, and placed the very same dagger at his throat. “Speak truth before you die—or would you rather I take you to Caesar and let him make you talk?” Although Ramtat could not see the man’s face, he could sense his fear, and he would use it against him. “It would be better for you to talk to me.” The man attempted to speak, but Ramtat had pressed the blade too tightly against his throat, so he nodded.
Ramtat eased off the dagger, but felt his strength draining away. “Speak truth.”
“It does not matter. Everyone will soon know that Egypt’s king is dead, and Caesar’s harlot sits upon the throne.”
Ramtat nicked the man’s skin, and he shuddered before crying out, “It’s as I told you—King Ptolemy is dead!”
Ramtat pressed his blade tighter. “How did he die?”
“Just as I said—he drowned.”
“Do you speak true?”
“I swear on my loyalty to Egypt, and may the gods strike me dead if I lie.”
Ramtat nodded. “There has already been too much Egyptian blood spilled this night. I shall give you a gift because you fought valiantly for your dead king. I give you your life. Leave before I change my mind.”
The man did not remain to argue but scampered away, to be swallowed up by the night shadows. The blade in Ramtat’s hand was slick with his own blood, and he dropped to his knees, then fell face forward onto the sand.
As blood gushed from Ramtat’s wound, his men carried him to the boat. The rowers put oars to water, and the small craft shot forward in a race against time. They knew that if they did not get their commander to a physician in time, he would bleed to death.
* * *
Danaë watched Vika tidy the room, wondering how to explain that she had witnessed the scene between the slave girl and Ma’sud. “How long have you lived here at the villa, Vika?”
The dark-eyed young woman paused in picking up Danaë’s sandals. “I was born here. My mother is personal maid to Lord Ramtat’s mother. My father was the high gardener.”
“You are not a slave, then?”
Vika looked puzzled. “I am a slave, as are my parents, but to have a master like Lord Ramtat
makes us more fortunate than most of our kind.”
“You are allowed to choose whom you love and marry?”
Vika’s expression became guarded. “Not without the master’s permission.”
“Then Lord Ramtat approves of your choosing Ma’sud for a husband?”
The young woman’s face lost its color, and she dropped her gaze. “You saw us together.”
“I confess I did.”
“Ma’sud is not a slave. It would not be acceptable for me to … for us—”
“For you to be in love?”
Vika met Danaë’s gaze. “Aye.” She looked away. “We cannot help the way we feel about each other. We tried, but it’s very hard.” She looked up at Danaë. “Will you tell the master?”
“Of course not. I do not owe Ramtat any loyalty. As you know, I am a prisoner here, not a guest.”
Vika took a hesitant step toward Danaë. “It is whispered among the servants that Lord Ramtat has a deep love for you.”
“Who would say such a thing?”
“Everyone. The master is not the kind of man who uses his slaves for his own pleasure. He is an honorable man, and a handsome one. Many women have wanted to be his wife. Although he has been with some, he looked at none of them the way he looks at you.”
The foolish girl apparently did not know that Danaë was soon to be turned over to the queen to await her justice. “What will you and Ma’sud do?”
“It is hopeless for us. Ma’sud is one of the master’s most trusted guards—did not the master set Ma’sud to watch over you? If Lord Ramtat ever finds out we have … that we love each other, he will sell me and send Ma’sud away.”
Danaë felt a pang of regret for what she was about to do, but it was the only way she could escape, and she was desperate. “Lord Ramtat will be returning soon. I see no harm in you and Ma’sud spending time together.”
There was dejection in Vika’s dark eyes. “How can we?”
“With my help. While we are in the garden, we are away from prying eyes. If I were to spend my time at the opposite end of the garden by the huge cypress tree, you and Ma’sud could be alone.” Danaë watched hope spring to life in the young woman’s eyes. “Do you think Ma’sud would approve?”
“He truly loves me and would do anything to be alone with me.”
“It is settled, then. Get word to him that you will meet him in the garden tomorrow afternoon.”
Vika beamed. “I shall not be able to sleep tonight for the happiness that fills my heart.”
Danaë was sure she would not be able to sleep either; she was betraying this young woman’s trust and turning it to her own advantage. But as it happened, she slept very well.
Danaë looked over her shoulder before she climbed up on the marble bench. She stood on tiptoes and reached for a nearby branch and hefted herself onto the wall. Uriah caught her arm to steady her.
“Catch the rope and lower yourself down. I have horses waiting for us. Hurry!”
Danaë could hardly believe her good fortune—everything had gone even better than she’d planned. Vika and Ma’sud were so taken by each other, they hardly noticed her at all. But time was against Danaë, and she must be far away before she was missed.
She slid down the rope, and Uriah came after her. He had brought her a cape, and she slipped it over her clothing and pulled the hood forward to cover her face.
In no time at all, she and Uriah were riding through open fields. Danaë did not feel safe until they left the villa behind and were headed toward the center of Alexandria.
Danaë heard no sounds of fighting, and she wondered if the war was over. If it was, had the brother and sister reunited, or was one of them dead?
“Uriah, is any place safe for me? Must I hide for the rest of my life?”
“I do not have that answer. It is best we take each day as it comes and not borrow tomorrow’s troubles.” He saw a worried frown crease her brow. “Child, I have asked myself why so many woes have dropped onto your shoulders, but I have no answer.”
It was almost dark when they reached the docks.
“Where are we going?” she asked Uriah as he lifted her from her horse. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure they hadn’t been followed.
“I have a brother who is a free man, and he has a small farm by the Nile delta—you will be safe there, since no one knows of it. We will be sailing with the morning tide. Meantime, you will become reacquainted with an old friend.”
She looked puzzled. “Who could that be?”
“The captain of the Blue Scarab awaits you.”
Danaë beamed and took a deep breath of sea air—the first breath of freedom she’d had in many weeks. The first person she saw when she hurried up the gangplank was her faithful Faraji, but the smiling guard was shoved aside, and Minuhe came hurtling toward Danaë. The maid wept and hugged Danaë to her.
“I thought never to see you again.”
“I thought the same,” Danaë admitted, laying her head on Minuhe’s shoulder. “I have missed you.”
“What about me, Lady Danaë?” a gruff voice asked. “Did you spare any thought for me?”
Danaë was overjoyed to see the captain of the Blue Scarab, and she laughed delightedly, going into his outstretched arms. “Good Captain Narmeri, little did I know I would be sailing on your ship again so soon.”
He bowed low to her, his careful gaze on Faraji, who was watching him closely. “Lady Danaë, Uriah has told me of your troubles, and I have agreed to take you away from Alexandria. It is a shame that a lady such as yourself should be treated with such disrespect.”
“You are a good friend and will not find me ungenerous.”
“Lady Danaë, your safety is enough reward for me. But quickly, come with me so you can be hidden until we get under way. No one must know you are on board.”
He led Danaë down wooden steps into the dimly lit hold of the ship. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.
Suddenly she stepped back as she heard the sound of splintering wood, and saw Obsidian burst from her cage. Danaë did not have time to brace herself, so she and the cat tumbled downward with the captain looking on in horror, wondering if Danaë needed rescuing. He relaxed when he heard her laughter and saw the smile on Faraji’s rugged face.
Obsidian licked Danaë and gently swatted her face with her claws retracted.
“You bad, bad cat,” Danaë said, giggling, turning her head away to avoid the lapping tongue. She locked her arms around the leopard’s neck, burying her fingers in Obsidian’s soft coat. “What will I do with you? You broke out of your cage again.”
Later Danaë guided the cat back and forced her into the cage. Faraji shoved a heavy crate in front of the opening in the hope of keeping Obsidian contained. After Danaë had devoted equal attention to Tyi, she moved onto the deck, loving the feeling of freedom.
Minuhe stood silently beside her, and faithful Faraji was nearby. Uriah glanced down at Danaë’s pale face as if looking for signs of suffering. “You have been through an ordeal. Do you wish to discuss it?”
“I have lived a lifetime in a few weeks.”
“Lord Ramtat did not misuse you in any way?”
She pondered the question, trying to decide how to answer Uriah. “Only inasmuch as I was a captive and was not allowed to walk outside alone. And,” she said, meeting his steady gaze, “I lost my heart to the man who held the keys to my prison.”
“I am not much of an authority on matters of the heart,” Uriah said.
“You have always been my teacher, and the one I went to for answers, but in this I must find my own solution.”
“Why did Lord Ramtat bring you back to Alexandria?”
Danaë gathered her thoughts and told Uriah as much as she knew, and that she had been implicated in a plot to kill the queen.
He shook his head. “This is serious indeed. I see no way you can ever come out of hiding if the queen is looking for you.”
“I’ve been
thinking, and I have decided that I will not cower like a guilty person. Rather, I will gather my strength and walk into the lion’s den.”
“What does that mean?”
“When I feel the hour is right, I shall come back to Alexandria and ask for an audience with the queen.”
Uriah nodded. “It is said this queen is wise. Let us hope she listens to reason. But what about Lord Ramtat?”
Although Danaë was happy about her freedom, she felt a dull ache inside. Her spirit reached out for Ramtat’s. “I shall always love him and wish him well—but there can never be anything lasting between us.”
“Time passes and wounds heal.”
“Perhaps. I hope that is so in this instance.” She stared out into the night, wondering what Ramtat’s reaction would be when he discovered she had escaped. She felt pity for Vika and Ma’sud. But if she had it to do over again, she would still make her dash for freedom.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The morning was overcast as the Blue Scarab sailed out of Alexandria’s Great Harbor. Virtually unseen by those on board was the small reed boat that passed near the bow of the larger ship. Danaë, standing on deck shrouded in a hooded cape, paid no heed to the occupants of the small craft, nor did she see the man who lay pale and bleeding within it.
Her gaze was on the distant horizon and freedom!
Ramtat briefly opened his eyes as the captain of his guard tossed another blood-soaked rag over the side of the boat. “The bleeding is bad, General. I have not the skills to stop the flow.”
“You must get me to Caesar,” Ramtat muttered. “He needs to know Ptolemy is dead.”
His captain shook his head. “In this instance, I believe Caesar will need to come to you, General.”
* * *
Danaë felt a blast of hot air on her face and sensed the first stirring of unrest. Something untoward had happened—she felt it within her spirit. She should be overjoyed to be leaving Alexandria, but it felt as if some invisible string were pulling her back. She fought against the overwhelming sadness that weighed on her. She had known naught but trouble since arriving in that city. Why could she not feel joy to be leaving it?
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