Jewel of the Nile

by Tessa Afshar

  “You practiced that with a girl?”

  His smile seemed veiled, as if it hid a well of secrets. “She wasn’t just any girl. The year I won the chariot race at the Isthmian Games, she won the short footrace.”

  “She competed against other women?”

  “A few women. Mostly men, some of whom were professional athletes.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Aha.”

  “I suppose she is also beautiful.”

  Theo’s lids dropped. “She has her charms. She is married to my brother, Justus. Her leaping and flipping days are long gone; she is the mother of a fat little boy now, who they named after me, of course.” He seemed pleased by the fact. But Chariline had not missed the blaze of pain in the gray irises before he covered them.

  She wondered, with the sudden flash of insight experienced by a thousand women before her, if he had once called Ariadne sweetheart.

  In the morning, her father sent a note, asking if he may join the family for dinner. Natemahar had assured them they would not need to cook a thing. If Priscilla and Aquila were agreeable, he intended to ask the inn to prepare the meal and hire two servers for the evening.

  To Chariline’s delight, her hosts accepted Natemahar’s proposal. They all knew this was her father’s way of thanking Priscilla and Aquila for their hospitality, not only in welcoming him, but also in opening their home to his daughter.

  She might never grow tired of those words. His daughter.

  Her father was coming to dinner.

  Her father was coming to dinner.

  Not her friend. Not Natemahar. Her father.

  They had decided to serve the meal in the courtyard, and Chariline set the table with the household’s red-glazed pottery, placing Priscilla’s cherished silver saltcellar in the center. Next to each plate, she arranged a simple square napkin next to a bronze spoon. She scattered rose and violet petals on the tiles, creating a jaunty pattern around the stools and benches that Theo had pulled up to the table.

  This was a far cry from Vitruvia’s elegant dinner setting with its roomy couches and silver platters. But, in a way, Chariline preferred the intimacy and ease of Priscilla’s house.

  She realized she was counting the moments until her father’s arrival. Although the pain of Natemahar’s duplicity still stung, Theo had been right. Understanding the source of his actions had helped to stop the erupting flood of bitterness that had blinded her.

  She still felt the hurt of the past seventeen years. The ache of so much loss. How could she not? They were years she could never have back. But regret and grief did not have the power to swallow up forgiveness the way anger could.

  Upon discovering Natemahar’s betrayal, all she had felt at first was rage. That rage had eaten up all the joy of finding the father who, undoubtedly, loved her. Now, she found the joy and cradled it close.

  What would life be like after this, she wondered? Would her father ask her to move to Cush? Would the Kandake allow an open relationship between them now that her grandfather was moving away from Meroë?

  It occurred to her, for the first time, that finding her father meant she would have to leave Rome sooner than she had expected. Chariline froze midstep, a cup forgotten in her clutching fingers, hovering over the table. Whether she returned to Caesarea or Cush, she had no reason to linger here anymore.

  No reason to remain with Theo.

  She sank onto the stool next to her and stared at the pink and violet petals at her feet. She was not ready to bid Theo good-bye. The very thought felt like a stab from Theo’s newly acquired dagger.

  She tried to cling to the memory of Theo calling her sweetheart. Theo fitting her body snugly against his, as if he did not wish to let her go. Perhaps he did not want her to leave either.

  Then reality took over, flowing over her like a bucket of icy water from the northern springs. A grin and an endearment in the afterglow of danger meant nothing. Theo had never hinted at feeling anything for her save friendship and, perhaps, an onerous sort of responsibility.

  He had revealed bits of his past, mostly to comfort her. But he had never revealed his heart to her. Not the way a man would to the woman he loved.

  Chariline had sensed strong feelings from him when he mentioned Ariadne the day before. Perhaps he loved this Ariadne. And if so, merely because she had married his brother—which, as far as Chariline was concerned, simply made her a fool when she had had the chance to have Theo—did not mean that Theo had stopped loving her.

  That he had a heart to offer Chariline.

  Chariline’s fingers shook so badly she had to place the cup carefully on the table before she dropped it.

  Without the distraction of finding Vitruvia and her father to cloud her mind, she had to face some painful realities. Mercy and grace help her, she could no longer deny her love for Theo. And if Theo loved the extraordinary Ariadne, he would have no reason to pursue Chariline when she left Rome.

  Her father arrived in the early evening, food and servants in tow. Although the Romans liked to eat supper early, lingering over their meal as long as possible, he knew his hosts were working people and needed the afternoon to tend to their leather business. Thoughtfully, he timed his arrival to coincide with the closing of the leather shop.

  The servers he had hired, two quiet men with clean hands and carefully combed hair, brought in three large baskets filled with iron pans, pots, and wine amphorae. They had even brought their own serving platters and spoons.

  Before long, everyone sat down to a tasty meal of mushrooms and eggs, followed by roasted pheasant, an extravagant treat more suited to the palaces and villas of the aristocracy than the wobbly table of a shopkeeper. Chariline grinned at Natemahar with approval, proud of his generosity.

  For once, the women were able to stay at the table without having to run to the kitchen every few minutes. Even Lollia, who had joined them at her father’s insistence, did not have to lift a finger except to bring the food to her lips.

  Mouthwatering desserts followed the elaborately decorated pheasant. Rich fig cake was served alongside a delicate cheese-and-honey pudding that quivered on their plates like a shy maiden. The servers vanished into the kitchen after bringing each course to the table, leaving the party to converse privately.

  While they ate their delectable sweet treats, Priscilla coaxed Natemahar to recount his now-famous first encounter with Philip. Everyone around the table began to swap stories of faith. Chariline felt as if heaven itself had pierced the world of men and women and wrapped it in a blanket of joy. It was easy to believe, in those God-touched moments, that everything good was possible with Iesous. Every doubt that had plagued her was consumed by the faith that flowed like a river around her.

  “And how did you two meet?” Natemahar asked Priscilla.

  “We met at the synagogue where I worshiped as a God fearer,” she said.

  He nodded. “I, too, began my journey of faith as a God fearer. Was it love at first sight?”

  She laughed. “What do you say, Aquila?”

  Aquila bit his lip. “I was not that clever, I fear. In fact, I admit, I was downright dense.”

  “I hope you hit him as hard as you hit me,” Theo said to Priscilla.

  “Well, I did not, as a matter of fact. I save my best blows for you, my dear.”

  Theo rolled his eyes.

  Chariline shook her head. “I’m surprised you were even able to come anywhere near Theo. If you had seen him fight as I did, you would know what a miracle it is that your hand connected with his cheek.”

  “Clearly, he could not defend himself against me.” Priscilla placed a hand on her hip, looking very pleased. “Next time you need someone to protect you, Chariline, you better call on me. Theo obviously can’t keep up.”

  “I had no idea I would have to defend myself against my own friend,” Theo said. “Besides, you look so delicate, I did not realize you could render me unconscious.”

  Priscilla laughed. “As I recall, you walk
ed perfectly well on your own two feet.”

  “Sleepwalked, more like. I have no memory of it. Likely, you damaged my brain.” He turned to Natemahar. “That was a lovely meal. Thank you.”

  “Indeed,” Priscilla said. “And I did not have to prepare it, which made it twice as delicious. I do enjoy cooking. Even so, it is wonderful to have a night off once in a while.”

  “Priscilla is an exceptional cook, Father,” Chariline said.

  Natemahar forgot to put his spoon in his mouth. His hand hovered in front of him, the small mound of cheese pudding quivering in its spoon.

  It occurred to her that this was the first time she had called him Father in so public a fashion.

  He cleared his throat and placed the spoon back on his plate. She tried to read his expression, wondering if she had crossed a line. Wondering if he would ask her, just as publicly, to cease such intimacy. A vein started to pound in her temple.

  He dropped his gaze to his hands. When he looked up, his eyes shimmered. “I could grow used to that,” he said.

  Chariline exhaled. She beamed at him. “I can only imagine the Kandake’s face if I say it in front of her.”

  “Speaking of the Kandake.” Theo leaned in. “I have been thinking about this assassin. You told us, when you first came, that the queen would not want Chariline’s relationship with you to be made public because she wished to avoid offending Quintus Blandinus.”

  “Yes?”

  “You said yourself, Natemahar, that the queen would not allow your personal feelings to harm Cush in any way. She already ripped you and Gemina apart in spite of the fact that you were married. And she had no problem sending you to a torture chamber. Given how ruthless she is, do you not wonder if perhaps she has hired this assassin herself? Hired him to get rid of Chariline altogether?”

  Theo dropped his napkin to the table. “If your queen has discovered that you two are, in fact, in regular communication, maybe she feels threatened. In order to protect Cush’s assets from Quintus Blandinus and his desire for revenge, all she has to do is get your daughter out of the way.”

  Natemahar shook his head. “I don’t think that is possible. For one thing, as I mentioned before, she herself warned me about the assassin.”

  “I realize. But perhaps her intention was to confuse you. She didn’t give you enough information to truly help us catch this man. By giving you this insignificant snippet, she won your trust without losing anything. This way, you are not likely to suspect her in the future. Or turn against her.”

  “I understand your reasoning,” Natemahar said. “But it is unlikely. Before telling me about the assassin, the Kandake revealed that she has known about my connection to Chariline almost from the beginning.”

  “Could she have been lying?”

  “She had a trail of information going back years. She knew I used to meet Chariline in Caesarea. Knew about my visits to Philip’s house. Knew about the spice shop where I would secretly meet Chariline over the years. She had dates, Theo! Her evidence is irrefutable.”

  Chariline gasped. “Philip’s house? The spice shop?”

  Natemahar grimaced. “I thought I had covered my tracks so well. But her system of spies is better even than Rome’s.” He drew his cloak closer about him, as though chilled. “The Kandake has known about us all this time, child, and I did not realize it.”

  “She knew who I was? All these years, she knew I was your daughter?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “But I thought she would destroy us if she knew.”

  “I did, too. Apparently, because we were discreet, she left us to our own devices.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I suppose the queen cares for me in her own way. She has known me since boyhood. My mother was her dearest friend, in the days when she still indulged in luxuries like friendship. I think, after all that transpired, she felt she owed me that little bit of happiness. As long as I kept my connection to you secret and limited, she chose not to interfere.”

  Chariline dropped her head into her hands. “I feel dizzy. The same queen who tortured you wanted to give you a taste of happiness?”

  CHAPTER 29

  Without counsel plans fail,

  but with many advisers they succeed.

  PROVERBS 15:22

  Her father ran a hand over his hair. “She is a complicated woman. If not for her, one emperor or another would have swallowed us whole by now. Any freedom we have, any modicum of independence Cush experiences, is thanks to her. She has had to be ruthless to survive a power like Rome. I am not saying she would not resort to swiping my daughter out of the way like a bothersome bug. But she has no reason for it.

  “Quintus Blandinus is leaving Cush. He will be gone in a matter of weeks, and his influence with him. No one else will care who I married, or who my daughter is.”

  Chariline scratched her head. “Perhaps, when she saw me approach Sesen, she felt threatened.”

  “By what? Sesen may not admit it, but he is not that important.”

  “She noticed me trying to pass a letter to him, I think. Perhaps she thought I was . . .” An icy hand chilled her spine. She would have made the connection long before this if circumstances had not interfered. One mounting drama after another had derailed her thinking. She had been so certain that Sesen was her father. That possibility had addled her thinking.

  “Perhaps she thought I was part of the conspiracy,” she croaked.

  “Conspiracy?” Theo frowned.

  Her father went still. “Chariline, what are you speaking about?”

  She had never mentioned Sesen’s plans to Natemahar. Even Theo did not know about them. Though tempted to tell him, she had decided to keep this damaging evidence against the man who might be her father to herself. But the time for discretion had passed. She trusted these people with her life. And now, she would have to trust them with the queen’s and Sesen’s lives as well. “Sesen is planning to kill the Kandake,” she said.

  Natemahar blinked. “What did you say?”

  “The day I snuck into the queen’s palace. You caught me leaving an alcove, do you remember?”

  “Well,” Theo drawled. “I am glad to hear my ship is not the only place you are able to sneak into. Even kings and queens can’t seem to keep you out.”

  She ignored him. “I was hiding in that little closet to try and speak to Sesen when he finished his business next door.”

  “I remember,” her father said, his face very still.

  “While hiding in that alcove, I overheard Sesen speaking to his cohort. Never heard the man’s name. But I would recognize his face. They were plotting to kill the Kandake and make it look like an accident.”

  She paused in thought. “Sesen intends to sink her boat. Initially, his scheme was to have taken place during a trip in the spring. But Sesen said the queen had postponed the journey until summer. He told his accomplice they needed to wait until July to put their plan into action.” Chariline rubbed her forehead. “I remember the accomplice was livid about the delay. I think he feared that the queen might ruin him before then. I could not hear every word.”

  Natemahar’s features froze in shock. “She is traveling to Alexandria, on the ides of July. She plans to take the royal barge. The Kandake does not swim. Chariline,” her father gasped. “Why did you not tell me of this plot months ago, when you first heard of it? Her life is in danger!”

  Chariline squirmed on the stool. “To save the queen’s life, I would have to harm Sesen. His plan was four months away. I thought, in time, I would think of a solution to save them both.”

  Her father rose to his feet. “It’s not four months away now! We only have weeks before she boards that barge. We have to warn her.”

  “I think she already knows,” Chariline said. “I expect that’s why she has sent an assassin after me. Because when she saw me speaking secretly to Sesen, she must have assumed I was part of the plot.”

  “She does not know about any plot, Chariline. She still intends to travel to A
lexandria. As her chief treasurer, I should know. Everything remains in place for that royal visit to Egypt. More importantly, Sesen has not been arrested. He roams about the palace as pompous as ever. The Kandake would have detained him the moment she had the first whiff of a plot.”

  Theo cleared his throat. “Perhaps the queen is waiting to catch every person involved in the plan. Leaving this Sesen free might lead her to others in the conspiracy.”

  Her father considered Theo’s words. “She would have told me.”

  “Not if she believed your daughter was part of it.”

  Natemahar dropped back into his seat. He contemplated Theo’s words in silence, then shook his head. “It is simply not her way. If you betray her, she strikes quickly. No. She does not know about it. I am sure of it.”

  “I do not mean to harp on this,” Theo said, his tone apologetic, “but it seems an important detail. If the queen did not send an expensive Cushite assassin to kill Chariline, who did?”

  Natemahar took a sip from his goblet. “I have wracked my brain for an answer. I confess, I have none.”

  “In spite of your confidence in her, I still believe everything points to your queen. I am sorry, Natemahar.”

  Chariline had no idea what to think. She bent to pick up a purple petal that had stuck to her toe. She rubbed at the faint blue mark on her foot left behind by the leather of her sandals. They had been a cheap purchase and bled color every time they grew damp. But she had seen them at the market in Meroë and loved their unusual design and colorful beads.

  She sat up so quickly she almost slipped off the back of the stool. “My sandals,” she gasped.

  “Those are your bare feet,” Theo pointed out. “Perhaps you should stop drinking whatever is in your chalice.”

  She shook her head. “This is serious. On the day I overheard Sesen’s conversation, I was wearing my Cushite sandals. They are very distinctive. Blue leather with red and white beads. You’ve seen me wear them, Theo.”