The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  “I certainly haven't been questioned,” Meleager continued as if Alistair hadn't said anything. He continued to circle the table, now passing by Alistair. “But I don't think any of us will escape it this time, friend.” There was something odd about the way he said “friend.” The word came out almost as a curse.

  It was true that the investigator's presence in Alistair's home had already become an annoyance. The thought of having to deal with him in any direct way was more than a little irritating. None of this changed Alistair's opinion of Meleager's dabbling in troop deployments and other military details. It was just fine to listen to his opinions when discussing policy in Pharoah's council and, truth be known, several of his points made sense. But when orders were given to Alistair, it was his duty, not the prince's, to draw up the details. Meleager's attempts to insert himself into Alistair's personal affairs were even more bothersome.

  “You know, I think it is time for me to retire,” Alistair said, yawning for effect. He wanted to wrap up this discussion that Meleager had seemed to foist upon him. “I'm sure if you have any further opinions about military operations, Pharoah will be glad to hear them at the next council session.” Alistair stood to his full height, which put him a few inches taller than Meleager. Then he went about gathering the things he would need to take home with him.

  The prince was never the best at recognizing a polite brush-off. He started to open his mouth again, but Alistair knew this game all too well. If he didn't start walking, he would never make it out.

  He cut Meleager off with a slight bow. “I thank you for your concern, Prince. But the hour is late and I must take my leave.”

  Meleager could do nothing else but nod his head in response as he watched Alistair turn and walk away.

  * * *

  Ouch! Ismene's hair was being pulled this way and that as Naeemah was preparing her for the engagement party. It had at last arrived after all the long days of lessons and preparations. Now she had just one last prep session. A beautification session.

  “You use the kohl to make marks over the eyes like so,” Naeemah was saying to Alonah when Ismene refocused on their conversation. How much more of this torture was she to endure?

  Alonah, as usual, was ever the eager pupil in the study of Egyptian fashion and makeup trends. She kept a watchful eye over every stroke Naeemah made with the cosmetics and comb.

  Then they were pulling at her hair again.

  “Now what are we going to do with this hair?” Naeemah was quite exasperated. She pulled at the mass of dark curls. The comb wouldn't slide through Ismene's hair without snagging.

  “Let's try to pull it back first and see if the wig will work.” Alonah picked up the wig Naeemah had brought for the occasion. Egyptian women wore their hair straight or, for more formal occasions, in a wig.

  Naeemah pursed her lips and tipped her head to one side, but shrugged her shoulders. She was willing to try it.

  Working together, they pulled some more at Ismene's hair. She was clinging to the chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white. The air was more humid this time of year, so it was proving rather difficult to tame the hair so that a wig could sit on her head.

  Ismene breathed a sigh of relief when Alonah at long last held up a hand to halt Naeemah. “Wait. I have an idea.” She then ran out of the room.

  Biting at her lip, Ismene was not sure how much more of this she could take. She was quite sure they must have pulled half of her hair out by now.

  Alonah returned with a bottle of oil in her clutches. Dumping a small amount into her hand, she ran her fingers through the dark curls. Ismene squeezed her eyes shut against more discomfort, but was surprised when there was none. Opening one eye, she watched in her reflection as the frizziness began to calm. Only then did Alonah begin to pull Ismene's hair back again. This time, there was no pain.

  “Grab those gold pieces,” she called to Naeemah.

  Naeemah nodded her understanding, picking up the gold-plated clips and combs, using them to hold Ismene's hair in place. The pieces also added decoration to her appearance with an Egyptian flare. By and large, Egyptians measured and displayed their station with the amount of ornamentation they wore.

  Ismene took that moment to let her gaze wander over the whole of her appearance. She wore the traditional blue silk dress that was indicative of an Egyptian bride-to-be. It was not altogether different from Grecian clothing, she mused. Well, except that it was a lot more revealing than she would like. Silk bands crossed in front of her torso, leaving an open triangle of skin on her chest. This provided a place for Naeemah to display a simple piece of jewelry. Past the belted waist, the cloth fell in rivulets like blue waves down to her feet. Ismene had mixed feelings. The dress was becoming, but she had not been so happy about the low V-neckline. Naeemah had insisted that it must be so, and Ismene did not want Naeemah to have to drag Alistair into their dispute, so she relented to wearing these ceremonial dresses as necessary.

  As she allowed her eyes to take in the entire picture of the dress, she noted that it did accent her figure. Perhaps a little too well, in her opinion. But Naeemah and Alonah raved about how becoming she was in it. For her part, she was counting down the moments until this was all over and she could return to her more practical clothing. Still, she had to admit that the way the silk was cool against her warm flesh was a pleasant change.

  Ismene sighed then, her mind turning toward home. As much as she and her mother were often at odds, she did wish her mother, father, and brothers could be here for this momentous occasion. But travel between Egypt and Greece was such a long, hard journey. She did understand the impracticality of them traveling such a distance for a ceremony that wasn't such a production in Greece, certainly nothing worth coming such a far distance, risking life and limb for. In her own lands, the wedding ceremony was but a few beautiful words passed between the two intended. No, her family wouldn't have understood a wedding, much less an engagement, to be such an event.

  Naeemah drew Ismene's attention back toward the mirror. Her makeup was complete, and she could not believe her eyes. The way her face had been done, she almost appeared Egyptian! Creamy skin and curled locks set her apart, but aside from that... This realization caused a lump in her throat and a knot in her belly...not pleasant. But she admired her image all the same.

  Alonah and Naeemah were also admiring their work. They took turns complementing each other's care in their preparations. But something was missing. And though Ismene was quite intent on trying to figure out what was nagging at her so, her thoughts drifted to the place they had been stealing away to as of late—Thelopolis. What comments he would make if he could see her now!

  Naeemah's voice broke into her thoughts. She was delivering last-minute reminders.

  “At the banquet hall, before the celebration begins, he will put the ring of immortality on your finger and offer the shabka.”

  “Yes, yes,” Ismene piped up, rolling her eyes. “And then the music and dancing and feasting and drinking will begin.” Sighing, she feigned boredom with the whole thing. She had to admit that Naeemah had done her job well. Yes, she had been a great asset to Ismene these last few days.

  “Oh, milady, it will be so much fun!” Alonah said, the words spilling out of her mouth.

  Ismene was pleased to see Alonah becoming more comfortable with her life here. She had been every bit the lifesaving friend to her that she had imagined. This past week had been no exception. All of the lessons and information, combined with the newness and grandeur of this place...Ismene had been in dire need of a friend with whom to share all of it.

  “It is time, Lady Ismene.” Naeemah wet her lips in anticipation. “Let us get you to your general.” She then moved toward the door and called for a servant girl to come.

  Ismene was to be the last to arrive at the banquet hall. Alistair was already there, in the palace, probably at Pharaoh's common banquet hall. Upon her timed arrival, the engagement ceremony would begin and then the party. Na
eemah rang for another servant as Ismene checked herself once more.

  “You are beautiful, milady,” Alonah reassured her, reaching out a hand to touch her arm.

  The servant Naeemah had summoned appeared at the door and Naeemah spoke to her in Egyptian. She would be sending an alert to whomever it concerned that they were prepared for Ismene to make the short trip across the palace for her grand arrival.

  Naeemah finished speaking and motioned to Ismene. “Lady Ismene, we must go now.”

  Ismene moved to obey, but stopped in her tracks. She whirled around and grabbed a lotus flower off of her cosmetic table. This was the final piece! Alonah helped her secure it in her hair.

  “There, that's better,” Ismene sighed. “Now I'm ready.”

  Naeemah nodded her approval and they moved out into the hall.

  * * *

  “The banquet hall is magnificent and inviting this evening. It looks quite grand!” Alistair boasted to his companion, Pharaoh Ptolemy II. “Your staff has outdone themselves with the preparations for this evening. If I didn't know any better, I would think it was Your Majesty that was getting married.”

  “Did you expect anything less for my great general?” Ptolemy smiled as he waved an arm to indicate the grand hall.

  It was true that Ptolemy was happy for him and had been eager for him to pick a bride for quite some time. All Egyptian men of power had at least one wife. Alistair, for his part, would have preferred his life as a bachelor. He enjoyed not being committed to any one woman and, well, everything that came with the lifestyle of a single man—no one to answer to, no one to worry with. But he was willing to do this to satisfy his pharaoh and friend.

  Even now he was enjoying this opportunity to be in Pharaoh's company in a social setting. Their relationship was rather unique. On anything involving matters of state or military issues, their relationship was all business, and Alistair embraced their roles. But he relished the times, like tonight, when they were just Alistair and Ptolemy. Times when Pharaoh, though still king, was more laid back.

  Ptolemy had been generous to Alistair. Alistair enjoyed serving the man as his general, occasional advisor, and friend. There was, however, one desire of Pharaoh's that Alistair could not adhere to. In keeping with his assimilation into the Egyptian culture, Ptolemy would have preferred Alistair choose a bride from among the noblewomen of Egypt. If it were not for a deathbed promise, Alistair would have been all too happy to comply. Alistair’s mother had always wished a bride of Greco-Roman descent for him. She had made him swear to her before she passed away that he would choose his wife from among their people. He had no intention of conceding on this point, lest she come back from whatever afterlife and haunt him...or worse.

  After meeting Ismene, he knew he had made the right choice. Her father enjoyed a good reputation among the nobility of the empire. In truth, he felt fortunate to have been the best offer for her hand. He was somewhat surprised that her father had regarded him well enough to send his daughter away to a foreign land. To part with her, perhaps never to see her again, all for the sake of an advantageous marriage. It was all rather strange to him. Nevertheless, here she was and she was prepared to become his wife. Even if it was with a little reluctance that she had accepted the arrangement.

  Yes, it did not escape his notice that, while she bravely accepted his offer, she had hesitated. There was something in her eyes in that moment that he had not been able to identify. Then again, he couldn't ever quite figure out what was going on in that head of hers, but it intrigued him. Alas, he hadn't the time to spend trying to figure her out. That would not change. He hoped she would adjust to the life he led.

  How much demand would marriage place on him? How much would she interfere with his comings and goings? He hadn't given it too much thought, always assuming there would be little change. Many of the marriages he had observed seemed to be for the purpose of stability, society, and children. For the most part, there was not much difference between the married troops and single troops. There were a few men whose wives seemed to place any demand on them and fewer who spoke of their wives and children. For some men, they were a bigger part of life. That would not be him. His work was too demanding and she would have to get used to that.

  Ptolemy drew Alistair's attention back to the present, “Has Naeemah served you well?”

  “I think the Lady Ismene could better answer your question, but I have been quite pleased. She has helped with the planning to be sure, and her service in educating Ismene has made it possible for me to concentrate on other, more important things.” Alistair was responding to Ptolemy, but his eyes were gazing off into the crowd.

  Ptolemy nodded, his eyes were on Alistair. When Alistair afforded him a glance, he could see that Ptolemy was giving him a rather odd smile.

  “You have not yet told me what you think of your bride-to-be,” Ptolemy said, his voice a bit quieter as if they shared a secret.

  Alistair’s gaze again scanned the room, giving him a few moments to think about a response. What could he say about her? He didn't know much. “My first impressions are good. I am pleased and impressed with what little I know of the Lady Ismene. By all appearances, she will serve well as the wife of a general. She is brave and has the strength of character to make this journey and still face life in a strange place with determination of spirit. A lot of things have been thrown at her in a short amount of time and she has held up quite well. And she is a lovely woman, graceful. I don't think I could have picked a better bride.”

  He closed his mouth, realizing that he had begun to ramble. But as his thoughts continued to dwell on her, he became all the more perplexed by this woman who was still a mystery to him. Ismene had made some extended day visits to his house to become acquainted with the staff she would be interacting with and to set up her living quarters to her liking. He could tell when she was there or had been there by the demeanor of his staff. His home would become more alive, more exciting. At first, he had credited it to the excitement of the coming nuptials, but it was more than that. It was as if fresh sea air had blown through the house with promises of a good harvest. Once again, he regretted that he had not been able to spend more time with her in order to decode this mystery.

  After some moments, Ptolemy broke into Alistair's musings. “Then I can't wait to meet her.”

  Alistair nodded, still in his thoughts. He was somewhat embarrassed that he had not been paying attention to Ptolemy, so he forced his mind back to the present. When he glanced over at Pharaoh, he had that same odd smile on his face.

  “Something I said, my liege?” His face warmed.

  “No, not at all,” Pharaoh said, but a slight laugh escaped his lips.

  Alistair knew the shade of his face deepened, but he shifted his focus elsewhere. He wanted to run a last-minute mental check. Where was Neterka? Dutiful and faithful as ever, he remained stationed by the door awaiting his future mistress's arrival. He held the two precious pieces that would be key in the ceremony.

  In that moment, Paki, the servant Pharaoh had chosen to perform as master of ceremonies for the evening, stepped closer to the door and rang a bell to draw everyone's attention.

  “The Lady Ismene Gina of Greece,” he announced in the loudest voice he could manage.

  The doors opened ever so slowly, everyone craning their necks to get a glimpse of this woman who had been the center of so much rumor and speculation.

  Alistair made eye contact with Neterka and they moved to the dais. Once the doors were at last opened, Ismene stepped into the light. Every thought flew out of his mind. She was beautiful to behold, even more captivating than he had first thought upon their initial meetings. He noted that the drapes of the Greco-Roman robes had downplayed some of her physical attributes which were now quite well accented by the Egyptian dress.

  Pulling his eyes off of her for a moment, he watched as the crowd parted for her to make her way to the dais. His eyes wandered over the crowd. She was, of course, the focus of everyo
ne's attention. He was all too aware of the looks of appreciation she was getting from other men in the room. Seething, he found himself a bit angered at some of the leers. Protective jealousy? This Grecian beauty in all Egyptian finery was stunning, to say the least. And she was walking toward him.

  When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, a smile graced her lips—a smile just for him. It took his breath away. There was a desire, a hunger sparked deep within him like he had never known. In that moment, he was struck with the realization that she was going to choose to be his. All of his earlier thoughts of duty and station were but a distant memory as he was overcome with this new feeling. He was honored and amazed that she was to be his wife.

  Alistair was not ignorant to the desirable nature of women, but this longing he felt in that moment when her smile reached him went beyond anything physical. It was a strange sensation. Was it the early stirrings of love?

  The things he had just finished speaking to Pharaoh about her seemed so insignificant compared to his widening perception of the woman who was drawing ever closer. He felt only her in that moment. In a split second this was no longer an arrangement to appease his pharaoh, it was becoming more and more real with every breath he took. Before he knew it, she was but a few breaths away, taking her place opposite him on the dais. Attempting to clear his head of these stray thoughts, he prepared to move into the ceremony.

  Alistair stepped forward to address Ismene and the gathering, speaking the traditional words about the courtship and the symbolism of the ring he now held for all to see. This ring, which would stake his claim on her future and bind her to him, was now all the more precious in his hands.

  * * *

  Ismene tried in futility to still her racing heart. She had never enjoyed being the center of attention and here she was, in the midst of all these people, with every eye on her. All too soon she was on the dais, in front of Alistair. His eyes caught hers for a brief moment, his gaze intense. Then he broke it off to step forward to speak.