Desert Prince

by Constance O'Banyon

  “But my stepmother thinks my stepsister—”

  “Bah!” Ma’dou hissed. “The mistress is certainly not equal in rank to the House of Tausrat. Did not Bastet learn this for herself when she hoped to marry Lord Julian?”

  “I had not heard that.”

  “You know how the servants talk, and none are more knowledgeable than those who work in the kitchen. I should not be telling you this, but perhaps it will help get these foolish notions out of your head.” Ma’dou looked doubtful for a moment and then nodded to herself. “Your stepmother approached Lord Julian’s grandmother, Lady Larania, a few moons past, asking if she could help arrange a match between Mistress Bastet and Lord Julian. I know not what transpired between them, but the mistress was furious for days afterward. And nothing was ever said about such a match again.”

  Sabinah frowned. Even if Julian’s grandmother had not approved of the connection, Julian still cared for Bastet, or he would not have wanted to meet her tonight.

  “Put foolishness out of your head and apply yourself to your studies. Besides,” the cook said in a scolding tone, “you are much too young to be thinking such thoughts.”

  “Can you tell me about my own mother?”

  “I will say only this—your dear mother was of a good family, who disowned her when she married a goldsmith rather than the high lord her father had chosen. Your stepmother forbids us to speak of her, so I shall say no more.”

  “Is my mother’s family still alive?”

  “Nay. There was only a grandmother left, and it is said she died two years ago.”

  Sabinah sighed. “So I have no one.”

  “It would seem not.”

  Her thoughts returned to Julian. There were those who would say a girl could not feel love at the tender age of fourteen, but Sabinah would argue with them. She had a deep, abiding love for Julian that would not tarnish with the passing of time, nor would her feelings for him lessen. Sabinah remained silent for the rest of the way home, trying to decide if it was wise to give Bastet Julian’s message.

  Whatever must she do?

  Chapter Four

  Apollodorus stepped from the shadow of a doorway with dread in his heart. Tapping Julian on the shoulder, he said, “Accompany me to Uriah’s house. Something has happened.”

  “Concerning my grandmother?”

  “Aye. But we dare not discuss it here.”

  Without question, Julian worriedly fell into step beside Apollodorus. They kept to the shadows and turned down a twisted street that led away from the marketplace. They ignored the high arched gateway that was the front entrance to the villa, choosing instead a back gate that was hidden by climbing vines, one few people knew about.

  Once inside the garden, Julian glanced at the white sandstone house with its red-tiled roof that had mellowed with age. He could smell jasmine, his mother’s favorite flower. He was about to speak when Apollodorus pulled him back into the shadows and made a motion for silence. It took a moment for Julian to hear what had caught Apollodorus’s attention.

  Faltering footsteps.

  Moments passed, and the footsteps grew closer.

  “I saw you enter the garden, young master. ’Tis a sad day you come to me.”

  Julian stepped onto the path. His old tutor was short of stature with white hair, what there was of it, and an equally white beard. His back was stooped by age, and he leaned heavily on a walking stick.

  “Uriah, how are you, my friend?”

  The old man studied the young boy from beneath shaggy brows. “Heartbroken, as you must be.”

  Julian frowned, and glanced back at Apollodorus. “What has occurred? What is wrong with my grandmother?”

  The two older men exchanged troubled glances, and at last Apollodorus spoke. “Julian, we are too late. Lady Larania is dead.”

  Julian felt bleak despair. “When? How?”

  “I do not yet know the details, but it happened sixteen days ago,” the Sicilian said, lowering his head so he would not have to meet Julian’s eyes. “Captain Vergilius is responsible.” He turned to Uriah, inquiring, “Do you have more details?”

  “This Captain Vergilius has taken over Lady Larania’s holdings as his own.”

  Julian slumped against the rough bark of a date palm, circling the trunk with his arms. Grief and anger tore at him. “He will die by my hands. This I swear.”

  Julian felt Uriah’s hand on his shoulder. “Loyal servants carried Lady Larania’s body to be purified. I saw that your grandmother had a proper entombment.”

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. “I shall see this Roman for myself.”

  “All in good time,” Apollodorus cautioned him. “We shall bide here until sunset.”

  Julian watched lightning streak across the sky and drops of rain pelted his face. Silently, he slipped over the familiar garden walls of his grandmother’s villa, with Apollodorus behind him. All the rooms were lit, and the sound of merriment fueled Julian’s fury. He moved slightly out of the shadows and glanced in the window, and what he saw made him sick with rage. The room he knew so well, where he had spent much of his youth, was filled with Romans. Some wore uniforms and others were in togas. Scantily clad dancers whirled about the room while other women climbed on couches, fondling the men.

  Anger tore through him like a hot desert wind, and he reached for the window latch, his other hand closing around the hilt of his knife.

  A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

  “Not now, young prince,” Apollodorus advised in a whisper. “The time will come—but it is not now. You must not choose to fight when the odds will not allow you to win.”

  “They desecrate my grandmother’s memory and foul her home.”

  “They can no longer hurt your grandmother. And as for your sadness, nothing but the desert sands lasts forever. Remember Lady Larania as she was.”

  “I want to plunge my dagger into her killer’s heart!”

  “Patience is the virtue that wins in the end. Had you known the mighty Caesar, for whom you are named, and watched him gauge every situation, you would know this for yourself.”

  Julian glared at his friend. “And yet, in the end, he was slain by those he trusted. Patience did not save his life.”

  “And your anger will not save yours.” Apollodorus nodded toward the torchlit chamber. “Note well the Roman with the scarlet toga—the one who talks loudest and boasts of his exploits.”

  “I see him.”

  “That is Captain Vergilius. He reports directly to Octavian, and no one else, which inflates his self-importance in his own mind. He, and he alone, is responsible for your grandmother’s death.”

  “Then why should he not die tonight?”

  “He has been rewarded for what he has done—this villa now belongs to him. He is a man on the rise to power. Bide your time, strike at him when he has the most to lose.”

  “I want to wipe the smirk off his face and drive my blade into his gut!”

  “It is far wiser to know your enemy. We shall learn what he feels and thinks, whom he sees and whom he trusts.”

  Julian set his jaw stubbornly, reminding Apollodorus of Lord Ramtat. “That could take years.”

  “It will. And in that time you will grow to be a man and act less impulsively, my young hothead.”

  “Sometimes, Apollodorus, I do not follow your reasoning. But my father bade me obey you, and I shall do so.”

  The Sicilian nodded toward the wall. “We should leave now.”

  Reluctantly, Julian followed Apollodorus down the path and back over the wall. Dropping down on the other side, they both disappeared into the shadows.

  Mounting his horse, Julian rode away, leaving his grandmother’s home in the hands of her murderers.

  I will return, he vowed.

  Then there will be a reckoning.

  Apollodorus seemed to have read his mind. “Your grandmother’s death will not go unpunished.”

  “No,” Julian said, nudging his horse forward. “It will
not.

  Sabinah’s home, which was in one of the better parts of Alexandria, was built of white limestone. It was surrounded by a courtyard, and in the back was a garden where her stepmother grew herbs and spices for the potions she made to sell. The rain had stopped earlier, and a heavy mist shrouded the garden, but Sabinah hardly noticed as she paced down the path and back.

  She was reluctant to enter the house, and even more reluctant to give Bastet Julian’s message.

  Her gaze settled on the jasmine hedges climbing the garden wall. New waterworks brought water to several restored fountains. The pathways had been freshly strewn with colorful pebbles from some faraway shore. The house had fallen into disrepair after her father died, but lately her stepmother seemed to have enough money to finance the needed repairs and even buy new furnishings. Trisella had also replenished her wardrobe with all the latest styles from Rome and done the same for Bastet and Sabinah.

  Where had her stepmother obtained the money? Certainly not from selling her potions, or they would have had money before now.

  With determined steps Sabinah turned toward the house. She would give Bastet the message, but she would not tell her the time or place of the meeting until she judged Bastet’s reaction.

  The thick walls of the house made it cooler inside as Sabinah paused in the entryway. Taking a deep breath, she moved through the corridor toward the small chamber where the family usually gathered in the evenings. Nearing the arched doorway, Sabinah paused when she heard Bastet’s voice rise in volume.

  “Think of it, Mother—me, married to an important Roman! Gallius is second in command to Captain Vergilius. Someday he will be an important man in Egypt, and perhaps even in Rome, and I have him panting after me like a lovesick fool.”

  Sabinah heard her stepmother laugh. “But you must not appear too eager. Hold back on your favors, a few kisses, perhaps touching, but make him want you with such passion he will beg you to be his wife. Ask him for money, jewels—he will gladly give them to you.”

  “You know I have already shared his bed, Mother. But as you advised, I gave him just enough so he would come back for more. He is almost ripe for the plucking. I would not be surprised if he has not already petitioned the Roman Senate for a dispensation so we can be married.”

  A thin stream of torchlight fell upon Trisella’s face, and there was uncertainty etched on her fine features. “Are you certain? Men can be sly when they want something from a woman.”

  Bastet looked smug. “Last night he knelt before me with tears in his eyes, swearing I was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He said he would die if I did not let him touch me.”

  Her mother’s eyes held a ravenous expression. “Tell me, daughter, did he give you more money?”

  Sabinah heard the jingle of coins as Bastet shook the leather pouch attached to her belt. “More than last time.”

  Trisella reached out greedily, but Bastet pulled away from her. “These coins I keep. I shall buy jewels and clothing so beautiful it will make the gods jealous.”

  “Well,” her mother said piteously, “if you want to be selfish. Just remember who guided you in the ways to please a man.”

  “Do not say this to me,” Bastet cried. “It is my body that has been sacrificed to the men who do not find their way to your bed. From this day on, any coin I am given belongs to me alone.” Her voice became shriller. “And mark this well, when Gallius’s duty is finished in Egypt, he will take me to Rome and perhaps even present me to Octavian.” Bastet clapped her hands. “Think about it—I will be a great lady, and men of importance will worship at my feet.”

  Trisella studied her daughter for a long moment. “I never considered you might be leaving Egypt. How will I abide it if you leave me?”

  Bastet shrugged. “I suppose that is the way of it when your daughter does as you bid. But you will still have Sabinah to lure Roman protectors to the house. Although I am not certain my stepsister will willingly offer herself to any man.” She giggled. “And even if she did, what man would have her?”

  “Sabinah is nothing to me,” Trisella replied. “If it were not for her father’s will, which left this house to her, I would have sent her away long ago.”

  “Perhaps my stepfather sensed your intentions when he wrote the will.”

  “I am sure he did.”

  “When I leave, she is all you will have.” Bastet’s laugh was deep and husky. “She is such a skinny, serious little thing. She will be a companion to you in your old age.”

  “Aiee. Sabinah will be no comfort to me. All she does is read her books. In that she is her father’s daughter.”

  Heartbroken, Sabinah doubled over, clutching her stomach, fearing she would be sick. How blind she had been—never guessing her stepmother and stepsister had been bedded by Romans and received money for the act.

  It was unthinkable.

  Horrifying.

  “You there,” Bastet said, taking Sabinah unaware. “How dare you sneak about eavesdropping on my conversations!” She reached out and pinched Sabinah’s arm, dragging her into the room. “Did you hear all you wanted to hear?”

  “I was not sneaking,” Sabinah protested, pulling away from her stepsister.

  “And I say you were.”

  A sob caught in Sabinah’s throat. “I am glad my father is not alive to see the degradation of this family. He was respected, we are not.”

  Trisella merely shrugged. “One does what one must to survive.”

  Bastet’s eyes narrowed. “If you were not eavesdropping, why are you here?”

  Sabinah decided to test her stepsister in regard to Julian. “I wanted to tell you I saw Lord Julian this morning at the marketplace.”

  Bastet’s eyes widened in excitement. “You saw Julian? Did he ask about me?”

  Sabinah sighed. Apparently she had misjudged Bastet’s feelings for Julian. “He asked about the family,” she said reluctantly, still not willing to tell her stepsister where Julian could be found. And she was glad she had held back when she saw Bastet’s eyes narrow with cunning.

  “Did Julian perchance tell you where he is hiding?”

  A warning went off in Sabinah’s mind. “Why would he tell me?”

  Bastet drew an intolerant breath. “Foolish girl. Do you not know there is a fortune offered for his capture?”

  “You would turn him over to the Romans for money?”

  Bastet gripped Sabinah’s arms and shook her. “Aye. And so should you.” Then Bastet released her. “If you see him again, attempt to discover where he is hiding so you can tell me.”

  Sabinah was filled with shame when she realized how far her stepsister would go to obtain the wealth she had always desired. Sabinah would never betray Julian, nor would she allow Bastet to do so.

  “No doubt Julian has returned to Alexandria because he heard of his grandmother’s death,” Bastet said.

  Sabinah jumped back as if she had been struck. “What did you say? Lady Larania is dead!”

  Her stepsister’s gaze slid away from her, and her cheeks reddened with momentary shame, her gaze locking with her mother’s. “I have heard rumors someone told Captain Vergilius where to locate her.”

  Sabinah’s eyes filled with tears. “I am sorry for the loss of that dear lady. My father had great respect for her. And Julian must be so sad.”

  “Spare me the tears,” Bastet said, fluffing her ebony hair so it fell about her face like silk. “Anyway, I do not want to think of such things today. It distresses me.”

  Trisella’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Are we not a happy family?”

  “How can you both be so unfeeling?” Sabinah accused. “We owe that family our loyalty.”

  Bastet watched Sabinah speculatively. “Stepsister, we owe the Romans our loyalty. Whose money do you think bought that gown you wear?”

  “I want nothing ill-gotten touching my skin.” Sabinah ran down the corridor, tearing at her robe as she went. She wanted to wash every place on her body that the garment ha
d touched. When she reached her chamber, she ripped the rest of the material down the front and threw it on the floor.

  “Get rid of that,” she told her servant Isadad, who was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. “Get rid of everything in my trunk and bring me a gown that belongs to one of the servants. I will not wear anything bought with Roman money!”

  Isadad, her old nurse, shook her gray head, her dark eyes filled with understanding. Every servant in the house knew how the family came by their tainted money. She was surprised Sabinah had not seen this before. “So you discovered the truth.”

  “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I did not want to be the one to cause you pain.”

  “Were you aware that Lady Larania is dead?”

  There was pity in Isadad’s dark eyes. “Little mistress, nothing goes on in this house that is hidden from us servants. The talk in the kitchen is that the dear lady was tortured to death because she would not tell the Romans where her family could be found.”

  Sabinah collapsed on the floor and sobbed. Tears blinded her when she thought of Lady Larania’s death.

  “Little mistress, what has been done cannot be undone.”

  Isadad’s hands had soothed Sabinah when she was ill—Isadad was the one she had always run to when she had been hurt. But nothing could help the pain that she was feeling at the moment.

  Suddenly Sabinah’s head came up. It was growing late, and she must warn Julian.

  Chapter Five

  Heavy clouds darkened the sky, and the air smelled clean and fresh after the recent rain. The threat of another storm lingered, with lightning flashing in the distance.

  Cautiously, Sabinah brushed the garden wall with her hand so she could find her way. When she reached the back gate, it groaned on rusty hinges, and she held her breath, fearing someone might hear and investigate. When she was certain no one was coming, she slipped out the gate, making her way along the outer wall.