by Holly Rayner
“I’m assuming the Romans didn’t accept?” Ramin asked, intrigued.
“They didn’t get the chance,” Vanessa said, shaking her head. “While terms were still being discussed, the Romans pushed the Kushite back to Dakka, and Akinidad was wounded and died. Then, to add insult to injury, they took Qasr, the town of which Akinidad had been chief, defaced the monument to his death, and established a garrison in its place. Amanirenas withdrew from the peace talks.”
“I can imagine,” Ramin said with a frown. “It seems like the war took everything from her.”
“But it never broke her,” Vanessa said. “She rallied her armies and descended on the Romans like a biblical plague. Some accounts say she rode elephants and fed her enemies to lions. She was ruthless and vengeful, with nothing left to lose. She pushed the Romans back all the way past Qasr and beyond. And when she was on their doorstep, knowing they feared her, she sent men to Augustus himself to talk peace again, this time with new terms.
“The Romans abandoned and evacuated the lands surrounding Egypt and the Kushite were exempt from paying any tribute to the Emperor. Amanirenas ruled for the rest of her life, and the peace she brokered remained until the end of the Meroitic Empire.”
“A very impressive woman,” Ramin said, smiling. “And quite a story. I can see why it captured your interest.”
“There’s only one problem with it,” Vanessa said. “The Meroitic language has never been deciphered, and Amanirenas and Teriteqas’s tombs have never been found. The only side of the story we have is that told by Roman historians. We may never know Amanirenas’s story in her own words unless that changes.”
“I have a feeling you want to be the one to change that,” Ramin guessed.
Vanessa chuckled, embarrassed.
“Is it that obvious?” she asked. “But I could talk about the Kandake all day. What story was it that captured you?”
“You will think it’s silly,” Ramin said, looking away, though he was smiling.
“Of course I won’t,” Vanessa insisted. “You just listened to me gush about ancient Nubia for ages. What could be sillier?”
“It was a fairy tale,” Ramin confessed. “A bedtime story my mother read to me when I was a small child. The Adventures of Prince Ahmed. Except, when my mother told it, she replaced the prince with an ancestor of our family, and so I was quite certain everything that happened in the story was true, and that I was descended from the prince. And so, I first began looking into our history searching for the prince and evidence of his story. But I soon realized I was just as enraptured by the real history as by the fairy tale.”
“I’ve always loved fairy tales,” Vanessa said, leaning closer to him in interest. “I would love to hear yours.”
“Well, first there were three brothers,” Ramin began, clearly pleased by the opportunity. “Princes, all in love with the same princess…”
Chapter Five
They talked for hours, trading stories, fairy tales, and scraps of history. After a time, Ramin called for wine, and by the time the party was winding down, they were both several glasses in. A little tipsy, Ramin looked at his watch.
“Ah, I’m afraid your company is entirely too pleasant,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve rather neglected my other guests. I was meant to meet someone tonight about funding an expedition.”
“Who needs funding?” Vanessa scoffed, a little more inebriated than he was. “A real archeologist will march out there with nothing but a shovel and a plan if they have to.”
“Really?” Ramin asked, amused.
“That’s what I’m going to do,” Vanessa confirmed proudly, finishing her glass.
“I thought you were just here to visit your mentor?”
“Well,” Vanessa turned pink, looking away. “That may have been a bit of a fabrication.”
Ramin raised an eyebrow.
“All right, it was a lie,” Vanessa gave in easily. “I’m lying to him, too. The truth is, I think I’ve found it! The tomb of Amanirenas!”
She covered her mouth as she realized she was talking too loudly and then continued in a stage whisper.
“It’s not even that far from here!” she said. “I’m planning to go out and look for it tomorrow. Just me and a shovel. I’m not going to let anyone else’s money or squeamishness get in my way this time.”
“You can’t really hope to search miles of the Nubian Desert on your own?” Ramin said with a frown.
“I don’t have a choice,” Vanessa said, hands in the air. “It’s a wild goose chase; everyone says so. If I made it official, no one would fund it. If I told Abraham, Professor Van Rees, he would try to fund it himself and last time he nearly went bankrupt! No, this time I’m going to be the one taking the risk, and just me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly serious,” Vanessa confirmed, straightening up as much as she could after so much wine. “I’m going to find that tomb or die trying.”
“You realize that’s a very real possibility,” Ramin pointed out. Vanessa waved a hand dismissively.
“What about this,” he proposed. “I was planning to fund an expedition anyway. I’ll fund yours.”
Vanessa started to protest at once, but the Sheikh held up a hand to stop her.
“I know, I know, it can’t be official,” he said. “So, it will just be you and me, then. At least then you’ll have some equipment and a little backup. And we’ll share credit for the discovery. I’ve been involved in thousands of digs, but I’ve never actually found anything myself. It would be an incredible opportunity for me to actually be there when the tomb is found. What do you say?”
Vanessa stared at him hard, seeming for a moment perfectly sober as she judged his sincerity. She held out her hand.
“Deal,” she said, and he accepted, shaking on it.
“Deal,” he agreed.
She swayed against his shoulder, then, her moment of clarity passing.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?” she mumbled.
The evening drew to a close and Ramin located the professor, putting the still rather inebriated Vanessa into his care.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said, kissing her hand as he stepped away. “I do hope you remember me.”
“I think I’ll remember this evening for the rest of my life,” Vanessa said earnestly.
Abraham chuckled, shaking his head as he helped her into his rented car.
“I’ll make sure she remembers,” he told the Sheikh. “Good evening, and thank you, Your Highness.”
He climbed into the car beside Vanessa and she watched through the car window as they pulled away. Ramin remained on the curb, watching them go until they were out of sight.
“Well, you certainly had a good time,” Abraham said with a deep laugh as Vanessa sighed. She was beginning to sober up.
“Oh, I did,” she said honestly. “What a wonderful man. I’ve never met anyone outside of academia with such an extensive knowledge of Middle Eastern archeology. And such a good sense of humor! And he listened to me talk about Assyrian burial practices for what must have been an hour, and, you know, I think he was genuinely interested! He made the most fantastic point about the direction the bodies face in mass graveyards and he actually knew more about their spirituality in relation to death than I do! Oh, I could have talked to him forever…”
“I’m sure you could have,” Abraham said kindly. “Just be careful, my dear. I did tell you he’s a heartbreaker.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Vanessa said, refusing to believe it. “He certainly wasn’t making any passes at me. We just talked about history the whole time.”
“I’ve been living and working in his circle for a year now, girl,” Abraham said with the air of a scolding father. “The gossip in the city talks about practically nothing else but his affairs. I’ve seen the women come and go myself. However kind he seemed, you should be careful. He’ll try to take advantage of you; I’
m certain.”
“He wasn’t like that,” Vanessa insisted, but she was less sure now.
Abraham insisted she stay with him rather than the hostel, and they picked up her things before returning to the apartment he kept downtown. It was a spacious and richly appointed home which Vanessa saw little of before she exhaustedly retired to the guest bedroom. She did wonder briefly how Abraham was doing so well. That consulting work must have been incredibly lucrative.
She fell into bed, but found herself restless, thinking about what Abraham had said. Eventually, she pulled out her laptop and ran a search on Ramin’s name, not expecting to find much. And at first, she didn’t.
International news outlets regarded him as a minor royal of little importance, mostly mentioned in conjunction either with his father or with his archeological exploits. But then she stumbled onto the local news sites, tabloids out of Khartoum and the Gulf states to which Ksatta-Galan was connected. They were filled with nothing but talk of Ramin and his romantic adventures.
Every week was a new dramatic breakup or exposé or interview with an old girlfriend. It seemed as though he’d hardly had a single relationship that lasted beyond a month or two. And no sooner had he started a new one than there were a dozen articles predicting when and how it would end.
She read for more than an hour, scrolling through article after article about his philandering before she finally closed the laptop and fell back into her sheets, frowning at the ceiling in dismay. None of what she’d seen of the Sheikh tonight seemed to match with what she was reading, but she could hardly ignore the plethora of evidence that proclaimed him a womanizer.
Oh well, she thought as she rolled over. So what if he was! She didn’t intend to let him run off with her heart, no matter how charming he was. This was just business. He was helping her discover the tomb in return for a claim to half the credit.
And even if he weren’t a playboy, she was planning to betray him by stealing from the tomb when they found it. It really wouldn’t do to be getting involved with someone in a situation like this. She’d just have to keep him at arm’s length. She could do that. She was sure of it.
Chapter Six
Vanessa woke up a bit late the next morning to the smell of coffee and breakfast cooking. Groggy and a little hungover, she dressed and stumbled out to find the professor in the kitchen, whistling cheerfully as he flipped pancakes.
“Good morning!” he called sunnily. “Go on and pour yourself some coffee and sit down. Breakfast will be along in just a moment!”
“You’re a saint, Abraham,” Vanessa said gratefully, and, coffee in hand, shuffled off to the dining room.
It was apparent that the professor had been using the room as an extension of his office. Half of the table was covered in papers and reference books and a large, detailed map of the Nubian Desert. There were several spots circled, one of which Vanessa recognized at once as the location of their last, aborted expedition.
Sipping her coffee, she ran her fingers over the spot in remorseful memory, until a paper lying near the map caught her eye. She frowned, reaching for it, already scanning the text—a scholarly piece from the 1800s about the Sons of Ham.
“Here we are!”
She looked up as Abraham bustled in carrying a tray full of food.
“Pardon the mess,” he said, scooting papers out of the way so he could set down the breakfast plates. “I’ve been preparing for a little expedition. You know how I get when I’m engrossed in my research!”
“Expedition?” Vanessa asked, forgetting the paper and sitting down. “Where to?”
“Oh, it’s just a little thing into the Nubian desert,” he replied dismissively. “Part of my consultation work. To tell the truth, I’m hardly even interested in the subject matter, but the pay is substantial and, well, a man my age needs to stay busy.”
“I’d love to hear about it,” Vanessa said, loading her plate with a pancake, fruit, and eggs.
“No, no, it’s not interesting, I promise,” Abraham said, waving the butter knife he was using to spread jam on his own pancake. “I’d much rather hear about your plans with Sheikh Ramin this morning.”
Vanessa had nearly forgotten her agreement with the Sheikh. She checked her watch and cursed.
“He’s showing me some of the exhibits he’s planning for the museum,” Vanessa lied, standing up and grabbing some fruit for the road. “And I’m late.”
Abraham chuckled. “I’ll call you a cab. Hurry and get ready.”
Pancake still in her mouth, Vanessa rushed to her room, dressing quickly in a simple white cotton button-up and khaki shorts with sturdy hiking shoes.
Saying a quick goodbye to Abraham, she hurried out to the cab and was soon standing on the steps of the museum where she’d arranged to meet Ramin. He was already there waiting, and he smiled when he saw her.
“I was starting to fear you weren’t coming,” he said when he saw her.
“I overslept,” she explained. “I drank a bit too much last night, my apologies.”
“I guessed as much,” he said with a laugh. “But don’t worry. The extra time allowed me to ensure we are fully prepared. I don’t expect us to find much today, but we can scout the area. Did you bring the map?”
“Of course,” Vanessa said, lifting the wooden case out of her backpack. Ramin showed her inside to a room where she opened the case, showing him the spot the map indicated, then unrolling a modern map.
“Calculating for changes in the landscape and borders,” she said, running her hand over the map, “it should be somewhere around here. Not such a huge area to search after all.”
“Not at all,” Ramin said, nodding. “We can take this road up to here, then horses the rest of the way.”
“If we’re very lucky,” Vanessa said with a smile, “we may find evidence of it today! We could start proper excavation tomorrow!”
“One can only hope,” Ramin agreed.
They drove out into the desert in a jeep, pulling a trailer behind it with a pair of strong horses within, from Ramin’s personal stables.
“I don’t actually know how to ride, you know,” Vanessa told him, talking loudly to be heard over the jeep as it rambled down the dirt road, surrounded by desert on either side. “I’ve ridden a camel before, but it was being led by someone else.”
“Well, being able to sit without falling off is half the battle,” Ramin assured her. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry.”
They soon reached the point where the road turned away from the direction they needed to go and Ramin pulled over, concealing the jeep behind a dune before he opened the trailer and brought out the horses.
“Watch carefully,” he instructed as he lifted down the blankets and saddles from the trailer’s storage. “I’ll show you how to saddle them. You can’t hope to ride a horse you can’t saddle properly.”
“What about bareback riding?” Vanessa asked.
“Much more difficult than it looks,” Ramin said with a small laugh.
Vanessa watched carefully as Ramin saddled the horses, talking to them and soothing them as he worked.
“Horses are incredibly intelligent animals,” Ramin said. “Smarter than dogs. Smarter than some people I’ve met. But they must be treated with respect. Some trainers think you can bully or frighten a horse into obeying you. They will harass an animal until it is terrified of them and obeys because it knows it will be hurt otherwise. But a frightened animal is an unpredictable animal. When you make yourself the greatest danger to your own horse’s safety, you can hardly be surprised when they eventually, inevitably, fight you or run from you.”
Ramin’s horses were calm and comfortable. Even with as little experience as Vanessa had, she could see how easily they moved around each other.
“Do you train them yourself?” she asked.
“I work with a professional trainer,” Ramin explained. “I prefer it to be done by an expert. But any horse I am going to personally ride I make sure to be involved in t
he training of. I want them to know and trust me.”
“It seems like they do,” Vanessa said, a little awed as she stroked one of the animal’s noses.
“I’ve spent many years with these two,” Ramin said proudly, tightening a strap under the horse’s belly. “I know them better than almost anyone.”
“How often do you ride them?” Vanessa asked as he helped her up into her seat.
“It depends,” Ramin said. “I try to ride at least once a week. Sometimes, I’m in the stables twice a day.”
He laughed, but Vanessa could see bitterness there.
“It helps to keep my mind off of things,” he said, then shook off the lingering shadow of sadness and took her horse’s lead. “All right, I want you to squeeze your legs gently around him. A good rider on a well-trained horse should be able to control it with just their thighs.”
Vanessa did as he told her and made a small surprised noise as the horse started moving.
“Good,” he said. “Now, press in with your left heel.”
Vanessa did and the horse turned away from the pressure, moving right. He had her try in the opposite direction next, and Vanessa smiled proudly when it worked.
“This is much easier than I expected,” Vanessa said, surprised.
“Well, not to be immodest,” Ramin said. “But she is a very good horse. You could still use a lot of practice.”
“I have the basics,” Vanessa insisted. “Let’s get going!”
“All right, if you’re certain,” Ramin said with a laugh, swinging onto his own horse with easy grace and pulling a compass from his shirt. “This way.”
They set off into the desert, the sand swallowing the jeep and the road behind them in what seemed no time at all.
Chapter Seven
The sun beat down, casting iridescent heat shimmers across the reddish-gold dunes. The horses were built for this kind of terrain and walked on tirelessly even after Vanessa began to feel hot and stiff and sore.