by Sandi Rog
Apparently, his grandmother was full-blooded Egyptian, and Alexander’s grandfather was Bedouin. When Grandfather first met Grandmother, he’d been so struck by her beauty that he stole her from her family. The family was poor and didn’t have the means to find her or hire someone to rescue her.
When Demetri did the same with Bahiti, his grandfather felt the gods were punishing him. But ever since Alexander’s last conversation with his mother, when she refused to return because she had shamed them, he wondered if she was actually abducted, or if she had gone willingly. After all, if she was abducted, why would the Bedouins have anything to do with Maximus if his son had taken their daughter?
He hoped to find answers.
Just as they crested the last dune, sand swirled into the sky over a distant hill, three riders exploded out of the dust—bearing down on them. Short curved swords hung at their sides, and Alexander’s mouth slackened at the sight. The sand dunes behind the riders rippled like water as their robes and headscarves caught the wind.
Maximus ordered him to stop, but Alexander, turning around to see two more riders charging at them, moved his camel forward to stand next to him.
“What’s this about?” Alexander asked.
“I was hoping they wouldn’t be here yet. The rest can’t be far if these men were sent to scout the area.” He motioned to his slaves. They drew their swords. One leapt off the camel behind them and stood next to Maximus; the one in front, still on his camel, took a stance of protection as did the two behind him. “They vowed to kill me if I ever returned.”
Alexander dragged his gaze from the oncoming warriors to look at Maximus. “You risked your life to bring me here?” His voice cracked.
“We don’t deserve you.”
The sadness in Maximus’s voice pierced Alexander’s heart. The man had actually risked his life. Did Calista know? Would she have let him leave, knowing this could happen?
“But I thought you traded horses with them.”
“I did. Until Demetri stole their sheik’s daughter.”
So, Demetri did abduct his mother. “Then … why were they in Rome?” He motioned to the men coming at them.
“They came to me with a promise of the Arabian if they could see Bahiti and … you.”
Alexander swallowed. His grandfather, both grandfathers, cared for him.
He turned to see the warriors closing in behind them. Not wanting his goods to get stolen, he motioned for the slave on the camel that carried his coins to come closer. Knowing Maximus had risked his life for him made it easier to call him Grandfather, to think of him as family.
“What if they strike without asking questions?” Alexander flinched.
All five riders closed in around their camels, blue and black robes flailing in the wind.
Covered in a dark purple, robe-like tunic, headscarf twisted into a crown, and black liner around his dark eyes, one man raised his hand to the other warriors, and they all stopped. Dust carried up from their horses’ hooves as they pawed the ground and snorted.
Alexander’s mouth went dry, more dry than it already was.
The man in purple urged his Arabian closer, and he paced in front of them. His dark, painted eyes narrowed at Maximus and then studied Alexander. “You were warned never to come here,” he said to Maximus in Greek, though his eyes were still on Alexander. The man sidled next to Maximus’s slave and without warning, sidekicked him. The slave fell off his camel, dropping his sword. The man in purple brandished his blade and charged toward Maximus.
“No!” Alexander drew his sword and jumped up, balancing on his and Maximus’s camels.
Alexander maintained a defensive stance, a non-threatening one. But would this warrior still strike?
Maximus’s slaves shouted as they moved in, their swords raised, ready to deflect any blows.
The man in purple came at Alexander, fury in his eyes.
“He’s kin, Jahi!” Maximus shouted. “Don’t kill him!”
Alexander had been so close to death often enough in his life that defending his grandfather felt natural. Even if it meant facing five warriors. Had all those years of abuse caused him to lose his mind? He should be afraid. Terrified. And his trembling form proved he was. But it didn’t matter. It never mattered how afraid he might be, he had to do what was right, what was expected.
Jahi reined in, causing his horse’s hooves to bat the air, his face dark with anger. “Who are you?”
“Son of Bahiti, grandson of … of ….” Alexander looked down at Maximus. “What’s my grandfather’s name?”
“Dakarai,” Maximus said on a whispered breath as his slaves stood around Maximus’s camel, their swords ready to defend.
Alexander turned to the man in purple. “Grandson of Dakarai.” Teetering on the camels became an interesting feat. It reminded him of balancing on David’s makeshift raft. Good thing he’d been trained in that. He always wondered how it would come in handy.
“Is it true?” Jahi shouted at Maximus, his painted eyes narrowed on Alexander.
Maximus nodded with a high lift of his chin and then down, watching Jahi, perhaps contemplating his next move.
Jahi looked at Alexander, studying his face and then raking over the rest of him, his gaze intense with disbelief. “And where is his mother? Where is Bahiti?”
A cold shower of grief washed over Alexander at the mere mention of his mother’s name.
“Dead,” Maximus said, finality weighing down his tone.
Jahi crouched over, his sword down and his hand on his knee hidden beneath his massive robes. “Dakarai,” he said, breathless. Then he straightened and motioned to one of the nearby men. “Get Dakarai!” he shouted with such emotional force, it was almost an anguished cry.
A chill rippled down Alexander’s spine as two of the men galloped toward the brown hills in the distance.
“How?” Jahi asked, his voice filled with grief.
Alexander held his stance, waiting for Maximus to answer. A hot wind brushed against his cheeks and caused Jahi’s cloak to ripple on the dry air. His horse pawed the ground, sending tendrils of dust between his hooves. Again, Alexander’s eyes watered from the bright sun. Only during the long silence that followed did Alexander realize what the consequences of Maximus’s answer might be. He tightened his clammy grip on the sword, praying the camels would hold steady.
“Have you gone mute?” Jahi jerked on the reins, causing his horse’s head to buck. “How did she die?” His voice was harsher this time, holding a distant echo of his grief in its depths.
Alexander wanted to answer, to spare Maximus the agony, but the knot in his throat choked him. Words wouldn’t come. How could he tell this man, this stranger, how his mother died when just thinking of it made his knees want to buckle?
“What happened!” Jahi shouted, his rage overcoming his grief.
“My son … he…” Maximus shifted in his seat. He shook his head, fear burning in his eyes.
“He strangled her!” Alexander shouted, his voice changing from high-pitched squeaks to its normal tone. “Master Demetri strangled her!” Tears scorched down Alexander’s cheeks, no longer from the bright sun.
Jahi’s face darkened, and his features tightened as his gaze bore into Maximus. He pointed his sword at Alexander. “Did you come to set him free, or is he still your son’s slave?” He said the words between clenched teeth.
“I am free!” Alexander shouted, afraid Jahi might lunge. He wiped his face with his arm, fighting back the rest of his tears.
Alexander’s camel shifted its stance, causing his balance to become unsteady. He flailed and jumped to the ground. Sword still in his hand, Alexander pushed to his feet and straightened. Now what would he do? How could he defend Maximus from this level?
Taking a deep breath, he walked toward Jahi who still held his curved sword pointed at Maximus. Alexander kept his own sword at his side as he neared the man, showing him he meant no harm, the thick sand beneath his feet making his trudge slow
. It’d be much easier to walk without sandals, he thought as he lifted his heavy shoes. The two other Bedouin men surrounding them moved closer, their blades drawn and ready.
“I asked to come, so he brought me here,” Alexander said loud enough for them all to hear.
Alexander could drop his blade, but he didn’t trust Jahi not to charge Maximus. On the ground, he felt small and powerless. He made ready to grab the horse’s bridle in case Jahi attacked.
Jahi watched, eyes narrowed, his blade still poised. The horse nickered and its flanks expanded with air, just as Alexander’s chest expanded as he approached this possible enemy. Sword still at his side, Alexander slowly lifted his free hand to Jahi’s blade and gently pushed it downward.
Jahi’s gaze then fell on Alexander’s arm, on his mother’s bracelet. He swung off his horse, robes flailing. Standing over Alexander, the man grabbed his wrist and studied the armband and then Alexander’s face.
“It is you,” he whispered. Jahi dropped to his knees and bowed forward with his head on the sand. His purple robes draped over him, and his turban revealed black strands of hair falling over his back and shoulders.
Alexander stood with Jahi at his feet. He looked around him as the other men on horseback finally lowered their blades.
“Are you well?” Alexander asked the man at his feet.
When Jahi still didn’t move, Alexander got on his knees. His palms sinking into the sand, he tried to see the man’s face. “My lord, are you well?”
Jahi’s misty eyes met Alexander’s, and glittering with merriment, he laughed. Sand falling from his beard, he grabbed Alexander behind the neck and kissed his forehead then his cheeks. “Don’t call me lord, for it is I who should call you lord.”
Jahi pulled Alexander to his feet. He then cupped his face, running the pads of his thumbs over Alexander’s eyes, nose, and mouth. “Definitely the son of Bahiti.” He squeezed Alexander’s shoulder. “I am your uncle.”
Alexander studied the man, fighting the urge to brush the gritty sand off his face. Jahi’s painted eyes and his smile reflected sincerity. But how could he be his uncle? “I thought my mother didn’t have any brothers.”
“I’m married to her sister.” He smiled, still holding Alexander, his embrace warm, comforting. The only people to touch Alexander so intimately were his mother, David and other members of the church. One moment the man wished to kill him, and now he embraced him. Alexander wasn’t sure how to feel.
Then he remembered Maximus. He looked toward him, fearful that the other men might still try to attack.
Jahi raised a hand and shouted in Greek, “Don’t harm the man who gives us back Dakarai’s son!” He laughed, still hugging Alexander with one arm, the sword he nearly killed Alexander with at his side in his other hand. “It’s Bahiti’s boy!”
The two men remained silent, studying Alexander and then nodding. Alexander, unsure how to respond, simply nodded back at them.
A high-pitched whistle cut the air in the distance. Two galloping horses came toward them, kicking up dust. They carried the men who had just left them. One reined in next to Jahi. “Dakarai is still too far. We can’t even see the caravan over the last cliff.” The man’s horse bucked its head. “He’ll be expecting us.” He looked at Alexander and then Maximus, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Jahi mounted and took the reins, his sword sheathed at his side. “Wait here for us.” He motioned with his chin to Maximus and then pointed at the outcropping of trees. “Two of my men will stay here with you.” He motioned to the two men who witnessed their entire exchange. They nodded toward Alexander. “Dakarai will arrive tonight.” Jahi eyed Alexander. “I will tell him of your bravery.”
With that, he clicked the reins. He and the other two men galloped away and over the hill in the distance, until all that remained was a trail of dust reaching the sky.
Maximus shouted orders to his slaves. “We’re leaving now!” Then he pointed to the larger slave who was kicked from his camel. “Haru! You remain with the boy. Don’t leave his side.”
Alexander rushed to Maximus’s camel as a slave ran to the one in front. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t stay. They mean to kill me, and they will.” Maximus eyed the two remaining Bedouin men. Their expressions were unreadable.
“But I won’t let them.”
“You can’t stop them, Alexander. They said if I ever returned, I’d die. They’ll keep their word.”
Haru led the camel holding Alexander’s possessions away from the group.
“You’ve got plenty of water.” Maximus motioned to the trees in the distance. “There’s a well, a waterhole not far, and shade. Just wait there. They’ll find you.”
“Haru.” Maximus spoke again to the slave standing nearby. “Protect him.”
Haru nodded. “Yes, master.” His dark beefy hand held the reins of Alexander’s camel, his sword hanging at his side.
“He belongs to you now,” Maximus said to Alexander, motioning to the large slave.
Alexander stood frozen to the ground, despite the intense heat.
“Sorry to leave you like this, son.” Sweat beaded on Maximus’s forehead either from the heat or fear, Alexander didn’t know. “You’ll always have a home with me and your grandmother.” With that, he kicked his camel into a run and took off in the direction from where they’d come, the other slaves trailing after him.
Alexander watched them go, the camels’ long legs charging and leaping over the sand. He didn’t realize camels could move so fast. Had he known, he might have gotten his camel to run while he rode it. They vanished over the sand dune, and Alexander watched as the sand shooting up from the camels’ hooves in the distance lifted like a brown cloud into the sky. The cloud swirled and disintegrated, stirred away by the wind.
Alexander couldn’t move. He simply watched as his lord disappeared like a frightened animal from his sight. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be free? To be out from under his master’s rule? But now that Maximus was gone, Alexander realized everything he had ever known had just vanished into the sand.
The hot wind brushed against Alexander’s cheeks as he stared at the empty hills. He fought the urge to run, to chase after Maximus and beg him to return. But it was too late. Would he even find him? A wave of sand covered their tracks like a blanket folded over a bed. The dunes were empty. No more tracks, no more master.
The wind lifted his hair, and he felt like he was on the ship heading for Alexandria. His future unknown. Abandoned. He remembered how small and insignificant he’d felt floating on the sea beneath the stars. Much like now, with sand floating like a wave at his feet. Yet, God was with him. He was more significant than the pebbles he stood on. Surely, God hadn’t deserted him as Maximus was now doing.
“Master.” Haru’s voice carried from behind him. “A sandstorm is picking up. We should get to the trees.”
Alexander wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Haru and the two Bedouin men. Would he ever get used to being someone’s master? He nodded and walked toward the trees in the distance as hot air brushed against his face, against his tunic, and through his hair, pushing him toward his future.
Later that night, Alexander sat on the blanket Haru had laid out, while the two Bedouins camped a distance away from them. The trees and well were nestled in a valley, so the winds weren’t as strong where they settled to wait. The winds had finally died down, and sounds of the desert surrounded them. Lizards and spiders scurried about. Alexander saw a snake disappear into the sand. He hadn’t realized so much life could be found in such a barren land.
Eventually, the sun sank, along with Alexander’s spirits. What if the Bedouins didn’t return? What if he never got to meet his grandfather? He recalled his meeting with Jahi and how happy the man had been to see him. Was he sincere? What if it was an act to get them to stay so the Bedouins could kill them?
As dark shadows stretched out over the land, Haru built a fire.
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��Why is it always cold at night?” Alexander asked, rubbing his bare arms. “Especially when it was so hot during the day.”
“That’s typical in the desert.” Haru stoked the flames, yellow fire reflecting off his dark arms.
They hadn’t talked much, with Alexander spending most of his energy getting to know his surroundings and contemplating his future.
“Do you know much about the Bedouins?” Alexander asked.
The dark man smiled. “Used to be one.”
“Really?” Alexander leaned closer to him. “Do they all speak Greek like Jahi?”
“No.” Haru shook his head. “Only Dakarai’s tribe.”
“Why do they have that dark liner around their eyes? And why do they wear a headscarf?”
Haru chuckled as he sat next to Alexander. “The liner protects their eyes from the bright sun as does the keffiyeh, or as you call it, headscarf.” He nodded with contentment, which was surprising, considering they were abandoned in the desert. “The keffiyeh keeps them cool.”
“Hmm.”
Haru pulled out some bread and wine and handed it to Alexander.
“You need to eat as well,” Alexander said.
“I’m supposed to wait until you’ve had your fill, then I’ll take what’s left.”
“Take some now.” Alexander broke the bread in half and handed it to Haru. He knew how it was for slaves, and he wasn’t about to subject Haru to those same rules.
Haru hesitated then took the bread. “Thank you.”
“How long have you been a slave?” Alexander tore a piece off with his teeth, biting through the hard crust.
“Long time. Don’t know.” Haru took a bite of his bread. “Been a slave for as long as I can remember.”
“Would you stay with me if I set you free?” Alexander’s biggest fear was being left alone in this desert, but at the same time, he didn’t want to own slaves since he knew how it felt to be one.
“Don’t set me free, master.” Haru studied Alexander with his dark eyes, the contentment vanished, replaced with a panicked expression.