The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Alonah glanced up from her supervision for a moment with a smile for her mistress. It was as if she held a great secret, and it intrigued Ismene.

  “Why are you smiling so?” she asked her handmaiden.

  Alonah picked up a small pitcher from within the grouping of pitchers being added to the bath water. She looked at the pitcher in her hands and then up at Ismene, her face filled with emotion. Happiness? Yes. But something else was there too.

  “Milady, these are waters from the Kallirroe Spring.”

  Ismene's eyes widened. “The Kallirroe Spring? But how?”

  With Ismene watching on, Alonah opened the pitcher with care and poured the precious waters into the tub.

  “All I can say, milady,” Alonah said, turning back to face her, “is that I have been charged with preparing you for your wedding day. That includes the washing in these sacred waters, does it not?”

  Ismene nodded, dumbfounded and filled with amazement. Her eyes watered at the considerate attention bestowed upon her. Who? Her father? Alonah? “They came all the way from Greece? How did you get them here?”

  “I cannot disclose that information at my own discretion,” Alonah said, smiling. She went back to directing the other maidservants, but Ismene was certain she saw a glittering of moisture in Alonah's eyes as well.

  Who could have afforded such an expensive venture? Alistair? But why would he go to all that expense for her? She could not imagine. It would have taken much time and effort to acquire these waters and have them transported. Could he truly have cared about something so...so...and how would she ever thank him?

  * * *

  The wedding chariot kicked up sand as they made their way toward Alistair's estate. Ismene avoided Alistair's eyes as they were driven. She had been doing so since the simple, well-celebrated ceremony. It had been beautiful and planned out perfectly, but there had been so much more going on today. A large part of her wanted to deny that this was happening—not the marriage, but what she was feeling every time their eyes met. There was something different in his gaze today, something she couldn't put her finger on. Alistair had not let her wander from him at all. He had held her hand the entire time, even when not necessary, as if he were afraid to let go, lest she run away.

  Ismene was distracted from her thoughts by the loud music and singing that surrounded them—joyful music and joyful people. It was difficult to concentrate on anything. These people seemed to love any reason to celebrate. That thought brought a smile to her face. They were rather thrilled for their general, whom they considered so kindly. This was quite evident to her whenever anyone spoke about or to him. He was well liked by the people of the kingdom.

  Such thoughts drew Ismene's eyes to look over at the man who was now her husband, according to Egyptian law. What was he feeling? Not knowing the answer to that question and having the same question posed to herself without an answer scared her. His arm was still around her waist, steadying her as the chariot bobbed and jerked along the pathway that, though smoothed out, was quite bumpy. These roads, after all, were not paved. She couldn't deny that the feeling of his strong arm holding her was pleasant and comforting. Alistair's arm tightened around her, and she prepared herself for a random obstruction in the path or another jolt, but none came. Her attention was drawn forward to find the reason for the change in his posture. The house was now visible in the distance.

  Tension was building through the taut muscles in Alistair's arm, and Ismene wondered at the source of it. Ismene knew her own body was feeling flushed with anticipation and anxiety upon seeing the house, nervous about what the next hours would bring. Was that what filled Alistair's mind? Was he nervous, too? The brave general, leader of the great Egyptian army—was it even possible he could harbor any such emotion regarding a lone woman?

  This was the part of the day that she dreaded—when everyone would leave and it would be she and Alistair all alone...alone with these confusing looks and gestures. She wasn't even sure what she was feeling toward her new husband. Many emotions played around her heart—anxiety, nostalgia, and sadness dominated. It was true that she was missing her family and felt some level of uneasiness with the faces of all of the strange people around her, but there was more going on in her heart. Something she couldn't identify.

  As the chariot slowed, their approach ever nearer, her reflections were swallowed up by a rush of raw emotion. Dwelling on thoughts of him had given her but brief respite from her own trepidations regarding what would be. She was overcome by them now and felt a little light-headed. As if he sensed her weakening state, Alistair tightened his arm to steady her.

  Once they stopped, Ismene glanced up into his eyes to thank him and felt her heart beating faster. This did not help her light-headedness. She moved her hands to his arm, hoping to communicate she was fine and ready for him to remove his arm from her waist. A strange cold passed across her body when he did so.

  Stepping down out of the chariot, he then reached up to aid her descent. There was no avoiding his eyes as he lifted her with his hands on her waist to set her in front of him. So close. He was so close to her, and she was unable to avoid gazing into his eyes. She remembered the kiss they had shared earlier that day at the ceremony. It had been quick, too quick. But it had caused her heart to beat faster, much like it was now. Was he going to kiss her again?

  Alistair's hands moved to clasp hers as the crowd's attention shifted to focus on the house. He led her toward the front door and she took the opportunity to turn her attention downward, making sure she did not step on the hem of the Egyptian wedding dress with its long, cool, soft fabric overlain with a sheer, almost glossy cover. Just as all clothing made for this heated desert environment, even the two layers were light enough to allow her to feel every breeze. Even the bead net, though it lay heavier over the dress, was not too cumbersome.

  The crowd parted to permit them a clear path to the doorway. Was it just two weeks ago that Ismene was in this same spot, gazing over this house for the first time? And now here she was, everything was said and done, and she was soon to become a wife in every sense of the word. It frightened her. But she could no more stop time than halt the sun.

  At last, they were at the entrance to the house and turned to bid the wedding party good-bye. Alistair's arm slid once again around Ismene's waist. The people cheered for the couple. She stole a glance at Alistair who was nodding and smiling at his neighbors, friends, and townspeople. They were delighted for their general and his new bride. These people meant a lot to him, and she could sense that he was touched by their attentions and well wishes.

  As if he felt her gaze upon him, Alistair turned to look into Ismene's eyes. He did not, and could not hide all of the emotions there from her, but so many played across his features that she could no more decipher his feelings than she could her own. Smiling at her, he moved his face toward her to place a kiss on the side of her face and raised her hand to his lips to plant a kiss there as well. She did not have to look too deeply to see that he was proud of his bride and honored to have her at his side. And that pleased her.

  Turning back toward the crowd, Alistair spoke to them in their tongue. They cheered again, and he waved at them all one last time. Ismene followed suit, all smiles and waves for these people who found such contentment in wishing the best for them in their new life. Then Alistair spun her toward the entrance to the house and they moved away from the crowd, which continued to applaud and shout after them until they were out of sight.

  Once inside and away from the clamor, there was silence as they moved toward Alistair’s bedchambers. Anxiety once again filled Ismene, more with each step they took. She had spent a great amount of time preparing herself mentally for this evening and she would not fail herself now. Fighting down the tidal wave of panic, she took a deep breath. When the entrance to the outer bedchambers was in sight, Alistair turned to face her. He almost seemed to be searching for words himself. Perhaps he was just as nervous as she. That calmed her even more.r />
  “Ismene, is there anything you need?” His voice, firm and gentle, betrayed a slight tremble. “Can I get you some refreshment?”

  She found a smile for him. “Some fruit?”

  He nodded. They had reached the door to his outer bedchambers, and, before turning to get the fruit, he said, “Please make yourself comfortable.”

  Ismene nodded and watched Alistair walk down the hall until he was out of sight. Then she headed off, almost at a sprint, toward her own bedchambers.

  * * *

  Alistair returned with the fruit and a bowl of lotus blooms. He had instructed the servants to make themselves unseen this evening, more for his sake than Ismene’s. Stepping into the outer bedchambers from the hallway, he was surprised that she was not seated on her favorite lounger. Confused, he set the fruit on the stand and glanced about the room.

  “Ismene?”

  She was not in the outer chambers. Moving toward the inner chamber, he continued to search, growing more and more troubled by the second. Glancing into the room, he saw no one.

  “Ismene?” he called again, a bit louder. His heart was sinking. Where had she gone? Had he scared her away?

  “I’m here,” he heard her voice from behind.

  Relieved and confused, he turned around. The sight that greeted him stopped him where he stood and took his breath.

  Ismene was at the door to the outer chamber, standing before him. She had abandoned her Egyptian wedding dress for a wedding toga. The bowl of lotus petals slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. But he didn't notice, he was so captivated by her. He couldn't deny the growing urgency to make her his wife, but was determined that he would not hurt or scare her.

  Ismene stepped toward him. Taking his strong hand in hers, she met his crystal blue eyes full on and spoke to him the words that were as old as Grecian civilization.

  “When you are Alistair, I am Ismene.”

  He stared at her in awe. She never ceased to amaze him. This was the Greek bride's traditional identification with her groom, the crux of the Greek wedding ceremony. It indicated the bride's willingness to enter her husband's family. But in that moment, it meant so much more to him. Entwining their fingers, he pulled her toward himself. As he lifted his free hand to touch her face, he could feel that she was trembling. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid, so he leaned toward her and kissed her. A soft, gentle kiss.

  Alistair felt her melt into him as his arms enveloped her. From the moment his lips touched hers, he knew there was no turning back. He attempted to soothe her with his kiss and make his hands work with gentleness, smoothing over her arms, her back such that he might offer her comfort. It took much effort to restrain himself. With slow movements, he pulled her toward the inner bedchambers.

  Urging Ismene to sit on the bed for greater comfort, he continued to calm her with his caring hands on her face, shoulders, and arms, neither pushing nor demanding, but patient and kind. The kisses they shared excited him and yet they were not nearly enough. With a boldness that surprised him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to herself to deepen the kiss. Lifting her, Alistair laid her on the bed and leaned over her, careful not to break contact. He could sense her fear subsiding, but her anxiety remained.

  Pulling back to look down at Ismene, Alistair saw the apprehension and reluctance in her eyes, but he could sense her response to his touch. His eyes took in her gaze and drank in her beauty. The features he had come to know so well were stark against the bed of dark curls that surrounded her and framed her face. Something caught his eye—the blunt ends from where a few tresses had been removed by a knife or sword. It caused him to pause for a moment. Then he remembered the offering of hair to signify the passing from virginity to wifehood.

  As if noticing Alistair's attention on her hair, Ismene moved a hand to reach up and cover the blunt end of the severed tresses. He halted her hand with one of his. Playing back her ceremony the night before in his mind's eye, a tenderness for her welled up within him and his heart ached for her and what she had given up for him. At the same time, his heart swelled with pride at the dedication of the woman who had chosen to be his wife. Alistair lifted the offended tress and, eyes back on hers, pressed them to his lips.

  “Ismene...” he breathed into the hair.

  Her eyes questioned him. He let the hair fall and traced the side of her face with his fingers.

  “When you are Ismene, I am Alistair.”

  Ismene's eyes widened as he echoed her earlier declaration. And he knew why. It was not typical for a man to identify with his wife the same way she had done earlier. Women were considered, at least in their culture, to be weaker, lesser somehow. How could he make her see that he did not view her in any such light? He admired and respected her. That's why he was making this statement, this commitment to her. Her sacrifices had touched him.

  Without any further prompting, she reached up and cupped the side of his face, reaching around behind his head and gently pulling him back toward herself in a deep kiss. He knew then. Any trace of hesitation that had remained in her was gone.

  * * *

  Nassor paced back and forth at Sefu's house as his thoughts ran rampant. What was going to happen? Nothing...it had all come to nothing!

  “Calm yourself!” Sefu said from his seat nearby. “You're going to wear a hole in the floor.”

  Nassor halted before realizing Sefu was teasing him. He grimaced. Nassor was not in the mood to be trifled with.

  “What did you think would happen?” Sefu had been on the edge of his seat, disturbed by Nassor's behavior, but he now leaned back, observing, waiting.

  “I don't know!” Nassor was annoyed. Sefu was needling him. He had hoped it would all end, but he would not betray his thoughts to Sefu.

  “He knew it would require more than a simple writing on the wall. Come now, Nassor, we're talking about a general. It's not like we trashed a merchant's fruit stand, or tied up some foreigner outside the city and took his camel. Surely you did not expect it to all end so nicely and expect that soldier to tuck tail and run?”

  Nassor heaved a sigh of defeat, at last taking a seat opposite his partner. Sefu was right. He just didn't want to admit it. It wasn't that he thought it would have all ended. He just resented taking further steps.

  “What of the others?” Sefu was now showing clear signs of being annoyed. Nassor's mood seemed contagious. “Are they as restless as you?”

  “We are all prepared to do what we must,” Nassor insisted.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I just need to double-check the orders.” Nassor met Sefu's eyes with more confidence than he felt.

  “Nothing has changed. Do I have to hold your hand through every step of this?” Sefu's voice was strained.

  “Of course not. I can do this. It is Egypt that I serve,” he spoke with a sense of patriotism, meek though it was.

  “Then proceed with the next step of the plan,” Sefu said, heaving a loud sigh.

  And so, in compliance with Sefu's instructions, Nassor left.

  * * *

  Ismene's eyes fluttered open. Dawn streamed into the high window, and she breathed in the fresh smell of morning. Turning in the bed, she gazed at her new husband who was still in dreamland. There was no way to describe what she was feeling—it was different from anything she had ever felt. It was a good feeling, true, but she was still afraid of it.

  Her stomach growled louder than she would have thought possible.

  “I guess we need to get you something to eat.” She heard Alistair's voice.

  As she watched, he opened his eyes and fixed them on hers. He reached out to touch her arm, moving as if to pull her to him, but something stopped him.

  “Yes. That would be nice,” she said, a slight smile on her face as she gathered the bedsheet tighter around herself, oddly modest. “I'll ring for Neterka.” She put her bare feet on the tile floor, cool against her skin, pulling the sheets from the bed a
nd around herself as she stood up.

  “If you answer the door like that, he'll probably blush brighter than a tomato.” Alistair laughed. He pulled on his robe and got to his feet. “I'll take care of getting you something to eat, and I'll see to it that Alonah is called to bring your clothes, if that is your desire.”

  She nodded, grateful that he had seemed to read her mind.

  They stood looking at each other in silence for a handful of moments. Ismene beckoned him to speak, to say something about their new situation, but he did not. Was he waiting for her to start? Ismene, her face warming, turned her head to fix her gaze on the sheets as she readjusted them for yet more coverage.

  Alistair broke the now uncomfortable silence by clearing his throat. “Breakfast, then,” he said before nodding and moving into the outer bedchambers to call for Neterka.

  * * *

  Alistair pulled the cord that would ring for his trusted valet. Why was it so strange between him and Ismene? Last night had been most amazing. He had never felt anything like that before. But he also knew that his longing for her had not been quenched. That was the oddest thing. He wanted something more and there was more of her...somehow. Shaking his head, he attempted to clear such crazy thoughts. I'm not making any sense!

  On top of everything going on in his head, Alistair couldn't interpret Ismene's reactions today. Perhaps it was because he was too blinded by his own feelings. What was going through her mind? Was she as confused as he? Was she feeling anything close to the stirrings in his heart?

  There was a knock on the door and Alistair opened it to discover Alonah, clothing in hand. Her arrival did not surprise him in the least. Neterka was quite good at his job. He would have known full well that the mistress of the house would be in need of her handmaiden once help was summoned from the master's bedchambers. The only thing that may have surprised Alistair was that Alonah's face was seen before Neterka's. That must mean he was anticipating their needs for food and was seeing to those preparations. Alistair motioned for Alonah to go into the inner bedchambers where Ismene was waiting for her.