The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  * * *

  Alistair's sleep had been more restless than usual. He never slept deeply when in battle situations, but this was different. His mind was often on Ismene. How did she react to his letter? Should he have waited and said those things to her in person? The unexpected and exhilarating encounter with his precious Ismene that last night before he was to come to this place of war and bloodshed had touched him in more ways than he had ever felt before. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the fragrance of her hair, the sweet lilt of her voice as she read to him, and imagine the feel of her skin, smooth against his own. It was enough to drive a man crazy.

  Alistair only allowed himself to think on Ismene during his bouts of restless sleep. During the day, his mind was committed to the task of war. They had held their ground and held Palestine, if only by a thread some days. Antiochus was ravenous to control Palestine and he came after them day after day. How much longer would it last? Alistair had long since given up trying to guess. By all logical accounts, Antiochus should have given up days ago. One did not have an endless supply of men to die on this front, and in a cause that was so obviously hopeless. Yet Antiochus continued to come at them, so Pharaoh and his troops continued to defend what was theirs.

  This skirmish should have been over weeks ago, and it bothered Alistair that it wasn't. He longed to return home to his Ismene, and this was new territory for him. Built for battle, he had always enjoyed being in the field. Nothing drove him like the pressures of his job, and he never thrived more than when he was in his element.

  There had become a routine to his day. He enjoyed being up before dawn to feel the crisp morning air as he walked amongst the ranks of his men preparing for what the day would bring. As they adorned themselves with armor, this camaraderie between soldiers and general boosted the troops’ morale and readied them for the challenges of the day. It never failed that Alistair would bolster his troops with rousing words. He was by their side all day, commanding their movements and fighting alongside them as well. Therein is where he earned their respect.

  Then, at the end of the day, he refused to eat until all of the troops had been served. That was just his way. After leading his troops to defend the land from another attack, he would retire to his tent and, after reviewing any details with his commanding officers, he would reflect on the day at large. Satisfied with having completed his duties for the day, he would then release his mind to where it had truly wanted to be—on thoughts of Ismene. And the ache in his heart would return.

  * * *

  Morning had come once again. Time for Ismene to rise, eat breakfast, and start her day's routine. Alonah helped her cleanse and dress for the day while another maidservant brought her some bread, cheese, and fruit. Ismene ate in silence, thinking on her day and the things that would fill it. She had her normal morning chores to do, then she would be journeying to the palace for lunch with Queen Arsinoe and many other Greek women recently transplanted to Egypt, followed by some gardening, before her afternoon and evening routines. Her days all began to look much the same, but she threw herself into her work. This kept her mind off of Alistair...somewhat.

  It wasn't that she minded thinking of him. The problem was that, while it always started out as a pleasant, sweet thought, it caused an ache to grow in her heart for his absence to be over. She could no more hasten his return home than she could hurry the coming of the moon, but she was unable to keep her thoughts from dwelling on him during the evening when all was quiet and calm. And during the day she did what she could to stay busy, lest she give in to sadness.

  Finishing her breakfast, she made her way toward the kitchen. This short trip took her out of the house, through the garden, and to the building behind the house. She couldn't help but stop and check on her flowers. Doing a spot-check on most of them, she took the time to get down on her knees and examine the tiger lilies. Gently touching their petals, she leaned in to enjoy their fragrance yet again.

  After several minutes in the garden, it was time to meet Neterka in the kitchen. She moved past the lush greenery and into the building beyond. To her surprise, Neterka was not there waiting on her. Should she wait for him or seize this opportunity to start trying to do the inventory on her own? Ismene opted for the latter. Moving from basket to basket, she made mental notes of their stores of vegetables and grains.

  Ismene was about halfway through the bins of grains. She reached for the next lid and pulled it easily off of the bin. Gasping, she jerked back from the sight that greeted her. The bin had been filled with locusts and maggots. It was all she could do to fight the urge to scream as she slammed the lid down. Taking deep breaths, she worked to keep from vomiting or fainting. Moving back out into the garden, she leaned against the outer doorframe as she took in the fresh air. Once she had somewhat regained her composure, she went over to the pool to splash water on her face. It was then that she saw Neterka coming out of the house toward her.

  “Milady, I am sorry. I was detained with business of the estate.” That's when he took in her condition. “Milady, are you well?”

  She peered up at him from her place by the pool on her knees. “There is a bin of grain filled with...with...” She splashed more water on her face. “Locusts and maggots. I don't know how many more are.”

  Neterka's eyes darkened. “I will see to it, milady. But first, let me send for Alonah.”

  Ismene flipped around to sit by the pool, propping her knee up and resting her arm on it so that she could hold the back of her hand to her mouth.

  It wasn't long before Alonah came from the house. “Milady! Another incident?”

  Ismene nodded.

  Alonah moved to help her up. Ismene waved her away. “I am capable of getting up. Please make sure Neterka rations bread for the next couple of days.” Ismene got to her feet with slow, careful movements.

  Alonah seemed to understand then that Ismene wanted to be alone, so she let her move toward the house by herself. Ismene couldn't settle on an emotion—anger or fear. Who was behind these incidents? Why? Why would they single out Alistair? Were they being singled out? There were too many questions and not one answer.

  * * *

  Hours later, Ismene sat in Pharaoh’s great dining hall. She picked at the food on her plate, not finding anything appetizing after her encounter that morning. Even now, her stomach turned at the memory of what she had discovered. But it was more than that. Her appetite had not been right for days...weeks, maybe. Not since Alistair had left.

  “How are you holding up?” Queen Arsinoe broke into Ismene's thoughts. The queen had seated Ismene in a place of honor to her right.

  “I am well,” Ismene lied, sighing, part of her wanting to be honest with the queen, and another part not wanting to be so honest in front of these women she had just met. One more glance told her that no one else was listening in.

  “I don't believe you, you know,” the queen said. “I can see how tired you are.”

  “You are most discerning, Majesty. I am tired and I miss my husband.”

  “It is understandable, Ismene. There is nothing wrong with missing your husband. I still miss Ptolemy from time to time, though I am more used to him leaving like this.”

  “I don't think I could ever get used to this. They have been gone for weeks!”

  “And they may be gone for a couple more weeks yet.”

  “I don't know how I'll manage that.”

  “You will. And you will be stronger for it.” There was kindness and understanding in her eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  Arsinoe nodded to her. “Of course.”

  After some moments, Ismene found herself interested in the food in front of her and Arsinoe seemed glad to see her eat.

  As their conversation came to a break, one of the ladies who had earlier been introduced as Brionna, seated a couple of seats away from the queen, attempted to get her attention. ”Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes?” Queen Arsinoe recognized her to speak.
<
br />   “I wanted to speak with you about some strange happenings at my home.”

  “Strange happenings?” Queen Arsinoe picked up her wine glass and took a long sip.

  “This morning, and the reason I was delayed—my apologies, Your Majesty—is that a few of our grain bins were full of...well, I don't want to spoil your appetites, but...”

  “Mine were too!” a young woman named Nerissa interjected. “And I know what you are about to say.” She appeared a bit queasy.

  “Anyone else?” Brionna asked.

  Ismene and a couple of other ladies nodded.

  “Our grain bins were fine this morning, but two nights ago, someone released our horses and it took our servants many hours to collect them.” This time it was a middle-aged woman named Irinia who spoke up.

  “That has happened to us as well!” Nerissa said.

  A couple of other women nodded that they had been victims as well.

  Ismene was horrified that these incidents were widespread, but couldn't help being a little bit relieved that she was not the only one.

  “We had a message written in...well, written on our garden wall,” Ismene spoke up.

  No one else affirmed having had anything of the like happen, but they exchanged glances, concerned.

  “What did the message say?” Nerissa asked quietly.

  Ismene wished she hadn't said anything. She didn't like revisiting these things. But everyone was watching her, expecting her to speak. So she continued, her voice timid, quiet. “Go home.”

  Nerissa shivered.

  “Chilling,” Brionna agreed.

  “I am glad that you have all brought these things to my attention,” the queen said. “There isn't much I can do in Pharaoh's absence, but it will be the first item of business I bring to his attention once he returns home. In the meantime, I will share these concerns with Prince Meleager. If, at any time, any of you feels unsafe in your homes, please know that you are welcome to stay within the walls of the palace.”

  It was clear from the queen's tone that, while she was sincere, she did not wish to continue this conversation.

  Ismene, of course, would concede, grateful to no longer be dwelling on it.

  Eight

  The Hero Returns

  Ismene dug her hands into moist soil. Tending the plants on the estate grounds kept her at ease, at peace. It gave her a sense of purpose. Even now she was tending to the plants in the inner courtyard, checking the dirt and seeing to their watering. This was one task she had taken upon herself in its entirety. She now preferred to oversee all of the gardening indoors and out. There were a few servants, including Alonah, who assisted her from time to time, but it was primarily she who tended to the plant life. That was the way she wanted it.

  “You want to water it until the soil reaches this consistency.” She reached in and felt the dirt, indicating that Alonah should do the same. “This is the right amount. Anything drier is insufficient, anything squishier is too much.”

  Alonah nodded, but Ismene wasn't sure she was getting it all. Her fear was that when it did come time for Alonah to water the plants, they would get whatever random amount Alonah put on them, that she might assume an overwatering or insufficient watering once or twice wouldn't hurt too much. Ismene was quite particular about her plants. Too particular for this kind of attitude. It had to be done right every time. So at the risk of insulting Alonah, she began the instructions again.

  “Lady Ismene!” She heard a servant girl coming through the house, her voice echoing through the halls as she moved toward them. Ismene also heard her sandals slapping against the tile floor as she ran. Whatever was driving her to find her mistress was some manner of emergency in her mind.

  Ismene stood to receive her, trying to brush and wipe off some of the dirt with her apron.

  “Lady Ismene!” Now that the girl was closer, Ismene could identify her as one of the younger household servants, Mesi. The girl moved into the courtyard and spotted them. She rushed right up to Ismene and halted, attempting to catch her breath.

  “Yes?” Ismene asked, unable to hide her amusement.

  “Milady,” she gasped. “Queen Arsinoe sent word that the soldiers have returned from battle!”

  Ismene's jaw dropped and her knees became weak. She felt Alonah's hand on her arm to steady her as much as comfort her. Turning from Mesi, she flew out of the house, out of the entryway, and to the main entry gate. Putting a hand over her eyes to shield them from the harshness of the sunlight, her eyes frantically scanned the horizon, but there was nothing to be seen.

  Alonah and Mesi were mere seconds behind her.

  “Milady, the messenger also informed me that there is a parade outside of the palace,” Mesi continued. “And that the general will march in the parade in victorious celebration. But we can know that he is safe and well.”

  Ismene continued to stare at the edge of hillside, not turning to look at Mesi or Alonah. Should I go? Should I stay? After these many weeks of waiting, she wanted to see him and confirm for herself that he was well. But she didn't want for him to arrive to an empty house while she was away trying to find him. That would not speak well of how she had managed his estate while he was gone.

  “Send word to the queen that I have received the message and will wait here for my husband's return.”

  Mesi nodded and returned to the house to respond to the queen's messenger and send Ismene's reply.

  Alonah came up behind Ismene. “We could wait by the window. Neterka can let us know as soon as he spots the general.”

  Ismene shook her head. “No. He will be here any minute and I want to be here waiting on him.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Please, Alonah, I insist you retire yourself to the other room. You need not wait out here.”

  She seemed almost ready to argue, but it had been a long day for them both and Alonah was grateful for the break. Nodding, she went back into the house.

  Now Ismene could focus on the road. In the time that followed, her eyes scanned the extent of their boundaries without fail. Gaze glued to the farthest hill, she waited. She watched the way the reflection of the sun played across the sand as it met the sky and how the breeze blew at the dust. Minutes passed, how many she did not know. The truth was she didn't know how long she waited, watching shadows and studying any movement. It could have been a million years or a millisecond. All she knew was when that lone rider topped that far-off hillside. His form in sight, she could not remain still. Ismene took off after him, running across the warm sand.

  * * *

  Alistair was relieved when he laid eyes on his house, the limestone exterior sparkling in the distance. He was home! After all these weeks of being away, of daydreams of...of her. At long last, he would be able to see her, to touch her, to tell her all that was in his heart. As he drew closer to the grand estate, he noticed a form making its way toward him. Was it Neterka? Was something wrong? Squinting in the sunlight, he hoped to gain a clearer image of the runner. That's when he made out the long, lustrous, dark curls bounding behind the figure and he knew it was Ismene running to meet him. He urged his horse to go impossibly faster.

  Though it was only a handful of seconds as the gap between them narrowed, to Alistair it felt like an eternity before he halted his horse and dismounted to meet her. She flew into his arms and embraced him fiercely as his arms closed around her. Returning her ferocity in the way he held her, feeling her heart beat against his, he was speechless.

  When her breathing slowed to the point where speech was possible, she pulled back from him only enough so she could look at him as she breathed the words she had yearned to say for so long.

  “I love you, Alistair.” And then she kissed him.

  He responded to her at once, drawing her closer still. His need to hold her was so great that he was afraid he would crush her. There were no words that could describe the feeling that washed over him. He felt complete...she loved him. Now he had everything he would ever need. Br
eaking off only when he became desperate for air, he rested his forehead on the top of her head.

  “Ismene.” He heaved, wanting to tell her what he was feeling, but was too overwhelmed.

  She found her voice quicker than he. “I have wanted to tell you that for so long.” Her hands came up to caress his face. “I love you.” She rested her head on his chest, loving the closeness and the feel of his heartbeat under her hand. “I was so afraid I would never see you again, would never be able to tell you. Now that you are here, I feel as if I love you even more.”

  Pulling back so he could look into her face, he saw tears in her eyes, and he could feel them welling up in his own eyes.

  “Never before have I felt the way I feel in this moment.” He cupped her face. “I never knew that I could feel like this. You have captured my heart and I am hopelessly lost in you. I love you so much.” He pressed his lips to hers once more and no more words were needed.

  * * *

  In the darkness, a torch was lit and the light flickered across the faces of the assembled men. Sefu, Nassor, Fadil, and Gahiji were gathered together for the first time in months. The radical faction of the mob seldom met. Since taking on this “extra work,” they had not met as a group at all. No one but Sefu knew how many members of the radical faction were involved in this job.

  “Brothers,” Sefu said, “it has been too long since this many of our number has been together.”

  Nassor marveled at how Sefu exuded confidence every time he spoke: in the mob chambers, when he was arguing about the necessity of more extreme and direct measures in order for their voice and message to be heard, and in the company of his fellow radicals, who believed the point he was constantly trying to make.