“I was not speaking of her.”
“But I was asking for her. It is my stepsister who yearns to live in Rome, not I.”
“Augustus Caesar is now pharaoh of Egypt, so the laws have changed concerning marriage between Egyptians and Romans.”
“Octavian proclaimed himself pharaoh, and the Senate has made him your emperor in Rome—he may call himself Caesar, but he is a mere shadow of the great Julius Caesar, who was loved by Egypt.”
Vergilius’s dark brows shot together, and his face became blotched with anger, his gaze boring into her. “Do not push too far, little beauty. If I wanted you, I could have you now. Remember that I choose to woo you as a gallant, but have you, I will.”
Sabinah trembled with fear. She had no one to protect her against this man. “I love another, and I have sworn I will keep him in my heart until I draw my last breath.”
The air was suddenly thick with malice, and it was directed at her. “Bastet has mentioned your infatuation with Julian Tausrat, who is high on Augustus’s wanted list. You throw your heart away on a dead man.”
She wondered how Bastet had dared speak of Julian to the man who had slain his grandmother. She rose to her feet in a flurry of silk. “Please excuse me.”
Her stepmother’s voice sounded shrilly behind her, and Sabinah closed her eyes in defeat. “I was watching across the room, and I see the two of you are getting along nicely.”
“Indeed we are,” Vergilius remarked, casting Sabinah a self-satisfied glance. “I was just about to ask your daughter to show me your stables. I have heard you have a Badari mare, and I have long wished to see one of the legendary breed.”
Sabinah knew she was trapped, but still she attempted to wriggle free. “Allow Bastet to show you; the mare belongs to her.”
His eyes suddenly turned cold and threatening. “I would like you to show me the horse. I understand Badari horses are bred by the Tausrat family.” The tribune offered his arm to Sabinah. “Walk with me, and I shall tell you what I have heard of this Julian Tausrat.”
Sabinah clamped her lips together, moving forward, but still refusing to place her hand on his arm. “Hurry along, then, Tribune. Let us get this done.”
Sabinah could not see her stepmother’s expression, but knew she would be frowning. Later Sabinah would be forced to listen to Trisella berate her for being rude to such an important Roman.
She walked fast, so Vergilius was forced to take long steps to keep up with her. When they reached the stable, a lone lantern cast shadows on the seven stalls. Only three of them were occupied, and Sabinah led Vergilius to the third. “As you see, the animal is an unusual beauty. In truth, Bastet does not ride, so I exercise the mare whenever I am able.”
He was not looking at the horse but staring at her. “I wish to know you better, even if your tongue is as sharp as the tooth of an asp.”
Sabinah gripped the stall door, trying to contain her fear.
Reaching forward, the tribune gripped her chin, turning her face toward the lantern. “Are you really unaware of the effect you have on a man? By the gods, I have never seen a woman who suited me more than you. Your daring is much like my own.”
She pulled away from him. “You have seen the horse. Let us return to the house.”
He reached for her arm. “Wait. Linger a moment longer. I would like to talk to you.”
“Then speak quickly.”
He lowered his gaze to her lips and whispered near her ear, “I have lost my heart to you.”
She took a stumbling step backward. “I … you what!”
He shook his dark head. “I know it makes no sense to you, because it makes no sense to me. With your first rebuff, I should have looked elsewhere. But once I looked into those eyes, I was lost.”
Fear mingled with revulsion inside her. “I will not listen to this.”
“Wait! Hear me out. I have just received a promotion. I am master of all Roman troops in Egypt. I am an important man.”
“Congratulations.” Her voice was flat, her gaze riveting.
“Think about it—I can do much to help your family.” He looked into her eyes. “I will have no trouble receiving a dispensation from the Senate to marry whom I choose.” Vergilius looked uncomfortable and glanced away as he asked, “I ask you to take me as husband.”
Anger pushed fear to the back of her mind. “Are you crazed! We do not know each other well enough to wed.”
“I will give you time to know me.”
“I should say I am flattered by your proposal, but I am not. I could never marry a Roman.” She backed farther toward the door, knowing her stepmother would force her to marry this man if she found out he had asked her. “Please take this as my last word—I do not even like you.”
Fury exploded in Vergilius’s brain, and he moved forward, towering over her. “You reject me because of that desert prince. Does he milk goats and wear coarse wool robes? Can he keep you in silks and adorn you with gold as you deserve?”
“I care neither for silk nor gold.”
He gripped her arms and brought her closer to him. “I will have you one way or another. It is up to you to choose the circumstances.”
She was oblivious to the danger of insulting him. “I shall never submit to you!”
His fingers bit into her arms painfully, and she would have called for help, but his mouth ground against hers, and she could not breathe.
Sabinah was reminded that the hands that now touched her were the same hands that had tortured Lady Larania. She tore her mouth from his. “Do not ever try that again!”
“Oh, I think I will. Who is going to stop me—your stepmother? We both know she would give you to me, even without marriage.”
Struggling, Sabinah tried to free herself, but his grip only tightened. She could hear his ragged breathing and feared what he might do. Then she realized she was exciting his passion when she fought him, so she went limp in his arms, demonstrating she felt nothing for him.
He shoved her backward, causing her to slam into a stall gate and hit her shoulder. Pain shot through her arm, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her.
“You have no reason to think so highly of yourself. Your family is a joke in the barracks. Everyone laughs at Bastet most of all. Did you know most of my officers have already had her? And the others are making wagers as to which one will be the first with you.”
“You dare say this to me?”
“The wager I put forth was that no one would have you, save myself.”
She rubbed her bruised arm. “You overrate your charms.”
“What if I told you we are close to discovering where your Lord Julian is hiding?”
Her head jerked up, and she stared at the smug look on Vergilius’s face. Hot fury coursed through her, and her voice was frosty when she spoke. “I would not believe you. If you knew where he was, he would already be your prisoner.”
“I tell you this for the truth.” His tone was harsh. “A Persian traitor saw Julian Tausrat outside a fishing village. And I have heard rumors he was seen here in Alexandria as well. I will catch your desert dweller and when I do, he will die, along with the rest of his family.”
Sabinah was terrified for Julian. “Knowing the danger, I do not think any of the family would ever return to Alexandria.”
White lipped, Vergilius brushed past her and waited for her outside the stable. “If it pleases you to think so. But know this—before long you will come begging to me for his life. Let us see at that time if you are more … shall we say, agreeable.”
She watched him walk toward the house, feeling sick inside. What if he was telling the truth?
Could Julian possibly have come to Alexandria, knowing the danger he would be in?
Aye, he would. He had done it before.
Sabinah wrapped her arms about herself to stop her body from trembling. She had to find a way to warn him.
But how?
She remembered an occasion that had occu
rred many years ago when her father had taken her to visit a man who had been tutor to the Tausrat children. What was the man’s name?
Uriah, the Jew!
Sabinah frowned. It had been so long ago, and she had been just a child. Could she still find the small villa where he lived?
She recalled they had turned left from the marketplace. But there were so many roads that twisted and turned in every direction. Would she even recognize the house if she saw it? She remembered the place had a great arched gateway.
Perhaps if she walked the street, she would find the right villa. For all she knew, Uriah was dead—he had been an old man when her father had known him. He was the only clue she had to follow.
Sabinah hurried toward the house, reaching the doorway just as a raw wind struck, making her heart tingle with deep foreboding. She would be up before daylight in the morning and commence her search.
When she reached her chamber, Isadad yawned and rose from the stool where she had been waiting. “Are you ready to dress for bed, little mistress?”
“Aye. But lay out a woolen gown and cloak for me to wear tomorrow.”
Isadad looked taken aback. “Just where would you wear such a garment?” she inquired quickly.
“It is none of your affair.” Fear for Julian made Sabinah’s voice sharp. “Just do as you are told.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Isadad exclaimed with the assurance of a well-loved servant who was accustomed to speaking freely with her young mistress.
“Someone I know is in trouble, and I must help him if I can.”
“But—”
“I am determined. What you must do is this: if my stepmother should inquire about my whereabouts, you must tell her I have gone to the marketplace for some ribbon.”
Isadad considered her briefly before she said with feeling, “Alone!”
Sabinah raised her chin, her eyes holding a stubborn look. “Alone.”
The servant moved about the chamber, tidying and dusting as she always did when she was upset. “This has something to do with Lord Julian, does it not?” Isadad asked with sudden understanding.
“I do not know if he is in Alexandria, and if he is, I do not know if I can find him. He is in danger, and I have to warn him.”
Isadad nodded. “Then I shall help you.”
“Pray to the gods that I find him tomorrow.”
“You must be careful. When I passed the main chamber earlier, I saw that tribune paying you marked attention.”
“He does frighten me, Isadad,” Sabinah admitted.
“That Roman desires you, and he is a ruthless man. Have a care for your safety when he is near.”
“I will make certain I am never again alone with him,” Sabinah said, her voice tinged with fear. “If there is a chance Julian has returned to Alexandria, Tribune Vergilius will be watching for him.”
Chapter Ten
Julian glanced about to see if anyone was watching before he pushed aside the overgrown acacia bush that had been allowed to grow in wild profusion to hide the secret back gate to the villa. The splintery branches brushed his skin as he moved them aside to reveal the gate, which had almost rusted shut with time. He pushed against it with his shoulder, and it creaked opened a little at a time.
Finally he stood at the back of Uriah’s garden, smiling faintly as warm memories reminded him of his youth. It was here his mind had been fed with knowledge and his thoughts challenged by his tutor. Julian breathed in the perfume of the garden. He knew every inch of the grounds and all the best hiding places to escape his nurse, Minuhe.
The house had actually been left to his mother by her adopted father, and she had deeded the property to Uriah for his lifetime. Julian knew he would be safe here since few people knew of Uriah’s connection with the family, and those who did would never tell.
He moved through the garden, aware of exactly where to find his old tutor. In the evenings, Uriah usually wrote in the garden.
As Julian spotted Uriah, sure enough, the old man was writing in his ledger. Removing his headdress, he sat down beside his former tutor. “I forgot how pleasant it is here in the evenings.”
Uriah did not take his gaze off his writing as he bobbed his head in agreement. “Some would say that is the way of it.” Then he glanced up, his expression perplexed. “Do I know you?”
“Uriah, dear friend, it is I, Julian.”
“Nay, nay. Julian is a young boy—you are a man.”
“It is I, Uriah.”
The old man studied him closely; then a smile brightened his face. “It is you! Lad, how long it has been since these old eyes have beheld your face? Where is your mother?”
“She could not come, Uriah. But she sent me. Has Apollodorus arrived?”
Uriah looked confused. “I do not quite know of whom you speak. And who are you?”
Julian felt heartsick. Sadly, he realized Uriah was growing forgetful. One moment he was lucid, and the next it was as if his mind clouded. There had been a time when Uriah had debated with the queen’s most brilliant scholars. He could speak nine languages and write and converse in all of them. “Apollodorus was Queen Cleopatra’s adviser. He was to meet me here,” Julian explained.
Uriah shook his head. “You must not speak of the queen—she is dead, you know.” He glanced down at his ledger. “Very bad, very bad.”
“Uriah, I am here to help you, old friend.”
Uriah smiled. “That is worth knowing. But who are you? I do not usually converse with strangers.”
“I am not a stranger. I was once your student. You taught my mother and my brother and sister as well. Do you recall Lady Danaë? She is my mother.”
It was as if a veil had lifted from Uriah’s eyes. “My sweet Danaë. Why does she no longer come to see me?”
“My mother had to leave Egypt. Do you not remember?”
Uriah nodded sadly. “Pray the gods she will return so I can see her before I die. Did you know I was once a slave, and your mother gave me my freedom, and also this house and garden?”
“I did know.”
In that moment Apollodorus appeared, as noiseless as usual. He nodded to Uriah and spoke quickly to Julian. “There is an increased number of Roman troops in the city. A woman at the marketplace told me they were looking for a desert prince. A garlic seller said much the same. It is not safe for you to remain in Alexandria longer than necessary.”
“No one knows our connection with this house, or they would already have been here. I must remain long enough to discover who betrayed my grandmother to the Romans. I need one more day.”
Uriah closed his ledger, shaking his white head. “Lady Larania was betrayed by one of her own people, an Egyptian.” He frowned as if he was trying to remember. “I heard a rumor in the marketplace. I would know the name if I heard it again, but at the moment it escapes me.” He grabbed his head and rocked back and forth. “I cannot remember important details anymore.”
Julian patted the old man’s hand as his sad gaze met Apollodorus’s. “Rest easy, my friend. What has escaped your memory is of little matter. I shall discover who is responsible for my grandmother’s death.”
Uriah stood, looking one way and then the other. “There was something I must do, but I cannot remember what it is.”
“You were going to lie down and rest,” Julian told him. He took the frail hand in his and led the old man toward the house. “Come, I will take you to your bedchamber.”
After Julian had seen Uriah settled, he took one of the old man’s robes from a peg and rejoined Apollodorus in the garden. “It is sad to see such a great mind waste away. I am fond of that old man.”
“He is extremely old, Julian. By your mother’s calculation he has seen over ninety summers.”
“He knows who betrayed my grandmother. He may be able to help if he does remember.”
Apollodorus frowned as he stared toward the house. “Let it be. He is frail, and it troubles him that he cannot grasp the smallest bit of information. Ther
e are other methods we can use to find out what we need to know.”
“It will not be wise for us to be seen together. There are still those who will recognize you, Apollodorus. Since I was but a lad when I left Egypt, no one is likely to know me, especially if I wear this robe and a head cover. We should go separate ways tomorrow. If you will continue to ask questions in the marketplace, I will ride toward my grandmother’s villa.”
Apollodorus looked doubtful. “Your father was well known by many. Since you look like him, make sure to cover your face.”
Julian picked up his headdress and draped it about his head, then straightened the striped robe he had borrowed from Uriah. “Do you think I can pass for a Jewish scholar?”
The Sicilian glanced into green eyes and shook his head. “Keep your face in shadow. You look like exactly what you are, a man of great importance attempting to hide behind a disguise.”
Chapter Eleven
The sun had not yet touched the eastern sky as Sabinah made her way down the darkened streets toward the marketplace. A sudden gust of wind tore her hood back, and she gripped it, pulling it into place, not wanting to be recognized by any of the vendors who were arriving early to set up their wares.
Sabinah turned down a narrow alley that opened up to the marketplace. Torches burned from some of the stalls. Frowning, she caught the scent of rotten fish, the smell lingering from the day before. Hurrying forward, she passed a stall where the aroma of garlic clung to the air. To her right a man was plucking chickens, and up ahead a weaver was setting up her loom.
She paused for a moment in confusion; eight roadways led away from the marketplace. Turning around in a circle, she realized it would be only by chance if she was able to locate the right one.
With firm determination she made her way to the center of the marketplace and stood beside the public fountain. Her gaze swept across rooftops and down alleyways. When she sighted the goldsmith shop that had once belonged to her father, she felt a stab of sadness. If he were alive, her father could take her to Uriah. Shaking off her sorrow, she concentrated on everything she saw, hoping something would stir a memory.
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