The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Alistair bit back the comment that almost escaped his lips. “Thank you,” he said instead. “You have been most helpful.”

  Chigaru nodded.

  “If I may.” Alistair stood up. “I would like to keep my men informed of every lead I get, so we can follow up on them.”

  “Do you not think it best to turn this investigation over to the secret police?” Chigaru spoke up, his eyes hopeful.

  Alistair opened his mouth to answer, fearing he would not be able to keep his thoughts or comments to himself this time, but Pharaoh spoke up first.

  “I do not think that is necessary. I am deeming this a military matter and the secret police will assist the military as needed.”

  Chigaru nodded, disappointed.

  Pharaoh looked back over to Alistair. “If that is all, General, you have your leave. May the gods watch your steps.”

  That was all Alistair needed. He turned his back on Ptolemy and Chigaru and made his way out of the palace and to his horse.

  * * *

  Jabari had loathed to part from his Alonah. She had been so badly beaten. The only thing that gave him some reprieve was knowing that when he found the men who did this, he would be able to delve out justice as he saw fit. If only he could find them first.

  They had left Alonah for dead, but they never imagined that she would survive and live to give the general the lead she gave him. That made her too dangerous. He wanted to stay with her, but he knew that no one would risk walking into the general's home right now.

  He could not help but wonder what would happen to him and Alonah now that the general knew the truth. Would he be discharged for lying? Would she be released from service for the same reason? Where would they live? How would they live? Don't think like that! The general was a reasonable man who seemed to understand their plight. Or was that wishful thinking on his part? He would just have to wait for things to unfold.

  Jabari was so deep in thought that he almost didn't see the man stumbling toward him until he was quite nearly upon him. The man was clutching at his chest and having a hard time staying upright.

  Jabari caught him.

  The man pressed something into Jabari's hand.

  “Please...“ Nassor pleaded. “I'm...sorry. Never...meant to...hurt...”

  With that, the man started gasping for breath. He convulsed a few times and was still.

  Jabari knew he was dead.

  * * *

  Ismene could hear Thelopolis's screams. Holding her knees to herself, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. They had been torturing him for some time now. Tears squeezed out of her closed lids. It was too much! And then it stopped, just as suddenly as it had begun. What had happened? Had he passed out? Had they killed him? What would become of her?

  She could hear movement again in the tunnels around her and a voice calling out. They were too far away for her to make out. As they got closer, she could piece together what they were saying.

  “Show yourself or your would-be savior will be sliced from navel to nose,” came the menacing voices of the men in the tunnels.

  No! She could not allow that to happen! The thought occurred to her that they might be bluffing, but she dare not take that chance.

  “Stop!” she screamed.

  There was a flurry of movement out in the tunnels as they attempted to discern where the sound came from.

  She used the cave walls to pull herself out of the crevice. “Stop! Don't hurt him! I'm here!” she continued to say as pain tore through her body with every movement.

  It wasn't long before she was surrounded by men. Two men dragging Thelopolis came into view, and she couldn't bear the sight of his burned and bloodied face and limbs.

  They tossed him down next to her. Dragging herself over to him, she pulled his torso into her lap as much as she could.

  “We are not without mercy,” the man whom the others called Sefu said. “You may have a moment to say farewell.”

  Ismene looked up through narrowed eyes at the man who had tortured Thelopolis. How dared he speak of mercy! She held her tongue and focused her attention on Thelopolis.

  “Look at what they've done to you!” she cried.

  “It will be all right.” He fought to get the words out.

  As he breathed, something in his chest rattled. Ismene knew he must have sustained serious internal injuries. One look into his eyes told her that he knew as well.

  Lifting a hand, he cupped her face. “Tell me that you love me, that this is breaking your heart, that we'll be all right.”

  She cried as he echoed their farewell words from so long ago—a lifetime ago when nothing mattered but the two of them. So much had changed, but some things had not.

  “I do love you, Thelopolis. A part of me always will. My heart is broken for you. We will be all right.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. Somehow she knew that this was the last time she would see his face in this life.

  “And this is breaking my heart!” Sefu said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Enough.”

  Men grabbed at Thelopolis, pulling him away from her while another man jerked her to her feet. They were marched toward the opening of the cave, then around the side toward the back side of the mountain pass.

  “Let's help the man down the mountain at least. Give him a good start to his journey,” Sefu said.

  Ismene was confused. Were they letting him go? For certain, they would not. Did they expect him to succumb to his injuries in the desert? If so, there was a chance for him! She watched as the two men who held Thelopolis walked him down the hillside and let him go there.

  Despite his injuries, he was able to stand and walk with some stability on his own. He began to move away from the caves, and Ismene saw a glint of something off to her left. Turning, her heart dropped. It was an archer!

  “No!” she screamed. “You can't!”

  Her captors started pulling her back toward the cave mouth, but she was still able to see when the archer released his arrow. She watched in horror as it struck Thelopolis squarely between his shoulder blades, and then she watched him fall.

  Ismene fell over, screaming, crying out at the atrocity that had just been committed, but it was useless. One of the men picked her up, carried her inside through the twisting tunnels, and deposited her right back in her chamber onto the thin blanket she had been sleeping on earlier.

  She didn't know how long she cried. It seemed like hours. She couldn't believe that Thelopolis was dead. He was dead. Dead. It didn't seem right.

  After a while, she couldn't cry anymore. She wanted to give up, to die, too. But she knew she had to be strong for Alistair, for their child. Her eyes had adjusted better to the dark as she had been crying. Taking in her surroundings a bit more, she could feel that the blanket underneath her was on top of some straw. The room also had a bucket, some water in a jar, and a narrow opening to the sky. The air was damp and dank; it caused her to cough, though her lungs already felt tight from her physical expression of grief.

  Shifting her attention to the piece of the sky she could see, she gazed up at the stars, searching. At last, she found Diana, the woman no longer separated from her love, now together for all eternity. Once her eyes found the familiar constellation, all awareness of her current circumstances faded and her mind rested on Alistair and the night he had showed her Diana. Then she closed her eyes, remembering the safety of his arms and the comfort he provided for her. How she longed for that feeling now! She had longed for that comfort often these last weeks, but dared not allow herself to reach out for it. The wounds were too deep. But her love for him was deep, too.

  Ismene opened her eyes. Was he thinking of her? Loving her? Her thoughts continued to drift to their more recent exchanges full of anger, jealousy, and, most of all, hurt. Did he still love her? How could he if he couldn’t trust her? For that matter, did he ever truly love her? Was she now being punished for her betrayal? For her stubbornness?

  Shaking her head, Ismene attempted t
o clear those thoughts. No, he was coming for her. And he did love her. These things she knew. She was also certain that he was, in fact, gazing at these same stars, longing for her forgiveness.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her love for him, I forgive you, Alistair. And I love you. Jehovah, if You are out there, please let him know I love him. Please help him find me.

  * * *

  A sense of relief washed over Alistair. He felt the same way he felt when he and Ismene were together in the best of times, almost as if she were reaching out to him. Looking up at the stars as he was riding, he knew they gazed at the same sky, and he tried to return that feeling of love to her.

  Before Alistair knew it, he was at his house, dismounting and turning his horse over to the stable boy.

  “You did not see me,” he told the young lad.

  The boy nodded his understanding.

  Alistair slipped into the house and made his way to Ismene's rooms without notice. Alonah was still there on her pallet on the floor. The doctor had seen to her wounds and they were now cleaned, covered, wrapped, and her arm cast. She seemed to be sleeping comfortably.

  “General!” Rabiah said, seeing him. “Allow me to see to your needs.”

  “No, I thank you. But I do have a request. Do not tell anyone that you have seen me.”

  “I don't understand, you...”

  He shook his head. “Just...don't tell anyone.”

  She nodded, though still not understanding his intentions. She simply accepted that it was what he wanted.

  “I need to know the whereabouts of Akil and Neterka. Go find this information for me and return here. But remember...”

  “Yes, General, I have not seen you. I know not where you are.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  She slipped out of the room, and he went over to look closer at Alonah, who lay in peaceful slumber on the mat. He wished that she could have been more helpful for her sake. She would be devastated to find that her information came to nothing, but he couldn't concern himself with that now. He had to find Ismene before the trail became cold.

  Alistair looked over her chambers; it seemed unreal that Ismene, too, was not resting in the bed as she had been these last weeks, unreachable by him. Their fight had been so senseless. His anger had come from hurt and a wounded pride more than actual suspicion of wrongdoing on her part. Why couldn't he have seen through the pain sooner? They might have avoided all of this.

  In the process, he had delivered a greater wound, a blow to her heart that was unforgivable. He wouldn't blame her if she was never able to forgive him for what he said, for what his statement had implied about her. But he could handle life the way it was, with her refusing to see or talk to him, as long as he knew she was safe.

  His thoughts were interrupted as Rabiah came back into the bedchambers.

  He was upon her in a moment. “What have you discovered?”

  “No one seems to know where Akil has vanished to. His absence was not noticed until I started inquiring about his whereabouts. Neterka is readying himself for a trip into the city.”

  Alistair looked at the door as if he could see through the walls to where Neterka was.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You have been most helpful.” He moved toward the door before turning. “How is she?” He indicated Alonah.

  “She is well, General. The doctor says she will recover.”

  He nodded and moved out of the door and into the corridor beyond. Though he had serious doubts about everything Chigaru said about Neterka, he needed to follow every lead. At least he would be able to clear his faithful valet's name, if nothing else.

  Alistair moved toward the stables, but placed himself in a quiet, dark part of the corridor just inside of the building so he would be able to see the stables, but would be well hidden from passersby.

  He didn't have to wait long before he saw Neterka stroll through the gardens from the main exit of the house and head straight to the stables. He spoke to the stable boy, who went to fetch him a horse. When the boy returned with a horse, he said something to Neterka, who frowned. Had the boy just given him away? Neterka spoke to him one last time before urging the horse forward.

  Hurrying to the stables, Alistair demanded a horse. The boy stumbled back into the barn to ready a horse with all due haste for his master. He returned quicker than Alistair thought possible.

  As Alistair was mounting, he asked the boy, “What were you and Neterka speaking about?”

  The boy looked as if he didn't want to tell Alistair.

  “It will be all right, boy, but you must tell me,” he insisted.

  “One of the manservants, Akil, has gone missing,” the boy said.

  Alistair almost laughed, but held his face firm. “I'm sure Neterka will see to it that he is found.”

  It took some carefully timed maneuvering to stay far enough behind Neterka to not be noticed, yet close enough to not lose him. Alistair leaned on his skills of stealth used in combat. Neterka, for his part, seemed oblivious to the fact that anyone could be tailing him. Alistair was able to follow him right to a nobleman's estate.

  Alistair found a tree several yards away to tie up his horse. He would make the rest of the journey on foot, so as to not be spotted. His heart sank as his suspicions grew. What business could Neterka have at an estate like this so late in the evening?

  As he approached the estate proper, Alistair noticed that there were several lights on in the barn in the back while the house remained dark. Moving toward the back corner of the house, he made his way toward the barn. But...this house had two barns. He saw that one was for the animals and the other structure, the one that had lights near the entrance, seemed not to have any entrance large enough for livestock. He moved toward it.

  Alistair attempted to grab the ledge of a window and lift himself up, but it was too dark inside to see anything. Looking in, he thought he saw movement, but he couldn't be sure. It was certain—he would need to go in, but there was just the one entrance as far as he could discern.

  This might give him away, but he had to do something. Pulling his sword, he laid his hand on the door's latch and pushed. He stepped into the darkness. There was a place in the center of the room, a circle, lit from a skylight illuminated by the moon. As he moved farther into the space, he could sense, rather than see, the presence of other bodies in the building.

  He was not afraid. “Show yourselves!”

  Nothing. There was nothing.

  “I am not afraid of you. Perhaps you are afraid of me, cowards!”

  Then he was attacked from several different directions at once. Using all of his skill, he was able to take down a few men, but there were just too many. It wasn't long before his sword clanged to the ground and he was overtaken. Alistair struggled helplessly against the men who held him. They readied him to deliver a couple of direct punches to his face—payback for the good ones he had gotten in. He smiled and faced them.

  “Hold!” a booming voice called out.

  All of the men holding him froze. Alistair, for his part, took the opportunity to separate himself from the men who held him, but they encircled him.

  “So, the great General Merenre has found us at last.” A hooded figure stepped out from the shadows. Alistair could make out his nose and mouth, but nothing else. He would be almost impossible to identify even if Alistair was having a face-to-face conversation with him again.

  “I had no choice,” Alistair said. “You have something that belongs to me.”

  “I think, dear General, that you have something that belongs to us.” His voice tightened. “You Greek fakirs hold Egypt as if it were nothing more than your playground.”

  “Do you not see that we seek only to prosper Egypt? To fight for Egypt? To protect Egypt?” Alistair was almost pleading.

  “For your precious Greek Empire!” The hidden man spat.

  “For Egypt—our home!” Alistair shouted back.

  “Egypt is our home. You may occupy
the land, but know this, General. Your days of occupancy are numbered.”

  Alistair glared at the shadows and the movement there, biting back his reckless comments.

  “I know what you seek,” the man continued.

  Alistair fought his overwhelming rage. “Please,” he said through gritted teeth. “You have no quarrel with my wife and now you have me. Let her go.”

  The man watched Alistair for a moment and then made a motion toward another figure still hidden in the shadows. As this figure moved into the light, Alistair saw that he was also clad in a hood, a dark blue one.

  “Your wife is not here,” the man spoke.

  “You cannot expect me to believe that!”

  “You have no choice but to believe it,” the odd voice said. There was something about that voice.

  “You expect me to believe that we experienced all of this harassment at your hands, except this? That now, all of a sudden, there is someone else in the picture?”

  “We have not been responsible for any harm done to anyone in your house,” continued the man in the blue robe.

  “I had hoped we could do this peaceably. You cannot think that I would come here without notifying Pharaoh's guard to follow. They will be here soon, and if I am still here and have not been released with my wife, woe be unto your mob.”

  A look was exchanged between the two hooded figures.

  The second man stepped closer to Alistair and started to pull his blue hood down.

  “General, you must believe me,” Neterka started.

  Alistair’s eyes widened. “Never in all my wildest imagining could I conceive that the closest to me was my vilest enemy!” He pulled against his captors and was struck from behind with such force that it drove him to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

  “Why? Why would you betray me so?” Alistair gasped out.

  “It has nothing to do with you...and yet everything. My service is first to Egypt. And Egypt belongs in the hands of Egyptians, not your kind.” Thinly veiled disdain played on Neterka's face. “You may change your names and take on our customs, but you cannot change the fact that you are all fair-skinned fakirs!”