The troubling aspect was how much the marketplace had changed over time. She closed her eyes, recalling that when she and her father had left his shop, they had turned to the right, but was it the first or second turn they had come to? Or for that matter, it could have been across the courtyard. When Sabinah had accompanied her father, she had been happy to be in his company and had paid little attention to anything else.
By the time she had circled the marketplace, the sun had washed the streets with a golden glow. Confused as to which way to take, Sabinah decided she would try every road and alleyway, retracing her steps if need be until she found Uriah’s villa.
Several times she found her way to twisting streets that took her in the wrong direction. When the sun was high in the sky, she felt pangs of hunger, and her throat was dry. She should have eaten before she left home. But she had not thought past her need to find Uriah.
At one point Sabinah stopped to work a stone out of her sandal, wishing she had worn her soft leather boots. By the time the afternoon sun beat down on her, she was weary and discouraged. Each road she had taken had been wrong.
She leaned against a stone wall with jagged cracks all the way to the top of the structure. Dropping her face into her hands, she fought against despair. For all she knew the villa could have been torn down, or Uriah, the Jew, could be dead. She was not sure of anything. Raising her head, she glanced down the twisted street, about to turn back, when her eyes widened and her heart surged with hope.
An arched gateway.
She had found it!
With a new burst of energy, Sabinah ran toward the gate. Stopping to catch her breath, she knocked as loudly as she could.
A small opening slid apart, and a woman poked her head out and studied Sabinah with suspicion. “What can I do for you?” she asked in a belligerent tone.
“Is this the home of Uriah, the Jew?”
When the woman answered, her tone was suspicious, guarded. “What if it is? Who are you, and what do you want?”
“I must see him. It is most urgent.”
“The master sees no one these days. Go along with you.” The small opening closed.
In desperation Sabinah pounded on the gate with her fists. “You have to let me in. It is imperative that I speak to your master. Let me in!”
The huge gate opened a crack. “Stop making such a fuss,” the woman scolded. “Do you want to call the attention of the whole of Alexandria?”
Sabinah pushed her hood back enough so the woman could see her determined expression. “I refuse to leave until I have seen Uriah,” she said with feeling. “Tell him that for me.”
“What is your name?” the woman asked in a disgruntled voice.
“Just say I am a friend of a friend.”
The woman looked as if she might refuse but seemed to have second thoughts. “Remain where you are,” she said curtly, slamming the gate shut and sliding the bolt into place.
Julian stood in the doorway watching a high breeze sway the top of the pomegranate trees. De-oro took to the sky, and his gaze moved to trace the bird’s winged flight. The answers he’d sought here in Alexandria had eluded him, and he would soon need to leave for the desert. His attention became focused on Uriah’s housekeeper as she hurried toward him.
“My prince, there is a woman at the gate, and she will not go away. She insists on seeing the master.”
“Do you know her?”
“Nay, lord.” She looked doubtful for a moment. “But she is a most obstinate young woman.”
“Does she say why she is here?”
“Nay. She says it is important, though.”
Julian looked toward the back of the garden, where Uriah was seated on his favorite bench. “Allow her entrance and take her directly to Uriah. Allow him to see what she wants, and then send her on her way.”
Sabinah pulled her hood back in place and waited by the gate, determined not to leave until she had spoken to Uriah. Just when she thought she was going to need to knock on the gate again, footsteps approached. The bolt shot back, and the gate ground open.
“The master will see you. But you must not stay long. He is ill.”
The housekeeper was a stout woman with broad arms and a stubborn twist to her thin lips. The hair that had escaped from her headdress was dark, her eyes equally dark. Sabinah suspected she might be of Badari descent.
Instead of leading Sabinah to the house as she expected, the woman followed a graveled walkway that curved around the corner. They walked through a lovely garden filled with flowers and trees of every description.
An elderly man was seated on a bench, his white head bent over a book that was opened on his lap, one gnarled hand resting on the curve of the bench. When he heard footsteps, he raised his head and stared at Sabinah. If this was the same man her father had brought her to see when she was a child, she did not recognize him. He appeared old and frail, his jowls deeply creased near his mouth, and blue veins showed through his tightly stretched skin. Dark eyes stared back at her with interest.
“Why would such a young woman seek an old man’s company?” he asked, smiling. “And why do you wear that heavy cloak on such a hot day?”
“It is important that no one recognize me.”
He frowned as if not understanding her words. “What can you want of me?”
“I know you are a friend to the Tausrat family. If Lord Julian is in Alexandria, I beseech you to warn him of danger.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you, young woman?”
“I do not know if you will remember me. I once came here with my father. He looked upon you as a friend.”
“And your father is … ?”
“My father was Dulus of the house of Jannah. He has passed to the other world some time ago.”
Uriah’s features brightened. “The goldsmith.”
Sabinah was relieved. “So you remember him.”
The old man shot to his feet, his expression so fierce it made Sabinah step back in fright, fearing he was going to strike her with the walking stick he was waving. “Now I remember. Your family are traitors!”
His eyes became wild, darting about with irregularity. Then he glanced back at her, shook his head, and hobbled toward the house, his robe flapping against his sticklike legs, his arms flailing, his voice choked. “I remember it all. The person who betrayed Lady Larania was the goldsmith’s daughter!”
“Please, listen to me,” she pleaded. “I am here to explain—”
“Explain it to me,” an intense voice said from the end of the path. “I would be interested in what you have to say.”
Sabinah could only see a vague outline of the man standing in the shadow of a date palm, and although the voice had become deeper, she knew him.
Julian!
Chapter Twelve
Overjoyed, Sabina felt her heart quickening.
She watched as Julian stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her. She felt fire in her blood and a longing so intense it shook her whole body.
Julian caught Uriah by his frail shoulders in a protective manner. “Calm yourself, dear friend. Take a deep breath and tell me what is troubling you.”
Uriah was so distressed, tears dampened his eyes. “She must be the one—she is the goldsmith’s daughter.”
Julian nodded to the housekeeper. “See to his comfort. I shall question the woman.”
Sabinah’s gaze was anxiously fixed on Julian while he appraised her. She pressed her hand over her heart, which was fluttering like the beating of bird wings. She’d never thought to see him again, yet here he was, just a few steps away from her.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she was glad she wore the hooded cloak so he could not see. Her hands trembled so violently she clutched the edges of her cloak to steady them. He was no longer the boy who had captured her heart, but a man in height and stature.
There was a masculine beauty about him that struck her deep. He was tall and slender of waist, with wide shoulders.
Black hair hung loosely about his face. His short tunic fell to his knees, and he wore high-top leather boots. Golden armbands circled his upper arms. At the moment he had a hawklike glare in his green eyes, and his mouth was compressed with anger.
Sabinah wanted to reach out to him, to feel his skin and know he was really there. Instead she planted her feet, hoping she could find her voice. “My heart is gladdened to see you, Julian.”
As Julian glanced up at the cloaked figure of a woman, fury burned inside him. It had never occurred to him that someone from the Jannah family would betray his grandmother. And now they had found Uriah, and could possibly betray him. For all he knew she might already have directed the Romans to this house.
He fixed her with a level glare. “Who are you? Speak before my dagger finds your throat.”
The cry of a hawk drew Sabinah’s attention, and she quickly ducked as the bird dove at her, then instinctively threw her hands up, protecting her face.
“De-oro, desist!” Julian said, knowing the hawk had gone on the attack because of his angry tone. Pointing toward the mango tree, he spoke forcefully. “Go there and remain!”
The hawk dipped low, circled a few times, and landed on a swaying branch, its piercing golden eyes on its master.
Julian’s attention focused on Sabinah.
“I have not betrayed you,” she said, her throat tight.
“Uriah thinks you have.”
“Nay. I never would. It has been a long time since last we met, Julian, and we have both changed in those years. It is I, Sabinah.”
He stopped in front of her, yanking her hood back, scrutinizing her features. “You have changed.”
“As have you.”
“You heard Uriah’s accusations?”
She lowered her head, overcome with humiliation. “I heard.”
Julian reached forward and gripped her chin, lifting it upward. He stood for a long moment, studying each feature. At last his gaze rested on her red hair. “Why are you here?”
Sabinah felt shame as she reached out to him, placing her hand on his upper arm. “I came to warn you. Not knowing you would be here, I hoped Uriah could get my message to you.”
His eyes never left her face. “What warning?”
“Have you heard of Tribune Vergilius?”
His gaze bored into hers. “I know of him.”
“He is the man you must avoid. He is dedicated to your family’s downfall.”
“How would you know this?”
Now she felt real shame. “He told me.”
“He murdered my grandmother and now lives in her house. I always knew I would discover who her betrayer was, but I never expected it would be you,” he said bitterly.
“Julian, it was not I … it was Bastet!”
His hard expression did not change. “I recall the night you cried because of my grandmother’s death. You say Bastet betrayed her. Yet I have only your word for that.”
Sabinah shook her head, feeling bereft. If he thought she was guilty, he would never heed her warning. “It was not I, Julian.”
He studied her face as if he could read the truth carved on her features. “Was it not?”
Sabinah reached out to him with a pleading hand. “My family has wronged you, and it is only right that I make amends in any way you choose. I will be your slave if you wish it, but even that will not undo the evil perpetrated by my stepsister.”
“A pledge from a member of your family means nothing to me.” Julian saw her flinch at his words, but he was in no mood to consider a traitor’s feelings. “If you associate with Tribune Vergilius and he confides in you, I cannot believe anything you say. But you have a convincing little act.”
She saw suspicion shadow his eyes. “I understand why you feel that way. Will you believe me when I say I do not associate with Romans of my own free will?”
He tilted her chin and studied every feature. “Nay. I will not. Your whole family associates with Romans. It is the talk of the marketplace.”
“I know this, and it shames me. Those who knew and admired my father have nothing kind to say about us these days.”
Julian turned her face, exploring her tilted nose, her full lips. Her skin was the color of melted honey, her eyes soft and brown. Her red hair swirled with each move she made, sweeping across her shoulders. “I have heard much said against your family.”
Sabinah shook her head. “It matters but little what you think of me or my family. But you must heed this warning: Tribune Vergilius knows you are in Egypt, and he suspects you might be in Alexandria.”
His gaze held hers. “You must be on friendly terms with the man.”
“I despise him.”
“Nothing you can say will make me trust you.”
She searched her mind for something to convince him. Stepping closer to him, she whispered, “Perhaps this will help you believe me. I know Ptolemy Caesarion was not killed by the Romans. I also know the high priest of Isis took him safely out of Egypt.”
Before she could blink, Julian whipped out his dagger and placed it at her throat. “What makes you say this?”
“I saw them the day they left the city.”
She felt the tip of the blade at her throat and swallowed with difficulty. “I have told no one. I would never betray the rightful ruler of Egypt.”
Julian stared at Sabinah as if deciding what to do with her. Shoving his dagger into the folds of his tunic, he jerked his head toward the house, indicating she should precede him. “Do not attempt to run or call out. Be advised, you could not make it to the gate before De-oro tore out your eyes.”
“I have no intention of leaving until you understand the danger facing you,” she whispered, crushed that he would want to hurt her. “It took more courage than you can imagine to come here today. Running is the last thing on my mind.”
He gripped her arm and shoved her through the door, leading her down a long corridor. When he took her into a dimly lit room, she saw Apollodorus bending over a scroll. He glanced up and arched an inquiring eyebrow.
Julian shoved Sabinah toward the couch, where she landed facedown, then struggled to her knees. He nodded in her direction. “She knows Caesarion is alive.”
Apollodorus gave Sabinah his full attention. “Who is this woman?”
“Uriah says she betrayed my grandmother to the Romans; she says she did not.”
The Sicilian moved toward her and dipped down so he could look into her face. “What do you think you know about Ptolemy?”
All Sabinah could see was the size of the man’s hands; they could crush the life out of a person with very little exertion. “I know he is not dead,” she said, staring into eyes that promised death to her. She had never seen such eyes—they were alive with feeling, filled with danger.
“You only guess. You know nothing for certain,” he said, watching her as a cobra watches a mouse.
“I saw him leave with the high priest, Kheleel. They sailed on a ship the day after Queen Cleopatra died.”
Apollodorus stood, but his gaze never left hers. “Whom have you told about this?”
Shakily, she gained her feet. “By the gods, no one. You must believe me. I have told no one. Not even my maid, Isadad, whom I trust with my life—certainly not my stepmother or stepsister, whom I do not trust.”
Apollodorus looked at Julian inquiringly.
“She is Sabinah, of the house of Jannah. Her stepsister is Bastet, whom you have heard me mention.”
Apollodorus focused his attention on Sabinah. “There is much talk of your family throughout Alexandria, and none of it is good.”
“I know,” she admitted.
He looked at Julian. “We cannot allow her to leave.”
Julian slowly nodded in agreement. “Have you told anyone about Uriah’s house? If anyone should attempt to breach the walls, you will be the first to die.”
Sabinah sighed. “No one knows where I am. My family knows neither of this house nor about Uriah.”
Julian
lowered his head thoughtfully. “What shall we do with her?”
Apollodorus studied her for a moment before he said, “If she was not being truthful, this place would already be surrounded by Roman troops.”
“What are you suggesting?” Julian asked.
“Where better to hide from a viper than his own den? Vergilius will not think to look for you under his nose.”
Sabinah shook her head, wishing she could make them understand. “You do not know him as I do. He will find you if he has to search every house in Alexandria.”
Julian’s mouth tightened angrily. “An impossible task, even for a Roman. And as to how well you know him,” he remarked, “I have little doubt you know him intimately.”
She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood, and still she could not stop shaking. “No, I—”
“Enough,” Julian ordered harshly. “Until we decide what is to be done with you, remain in this room. Do not think you can sneak out. I am posting guards around the entire perimeter.”
Sabinah felt a surge of sadness. Once Julian had called her “Sunshine.” Now he despised her.
Grimly he turned away and motioned for Apollodorus to follow him. In the empty chamber Sabinah sat with her chin resting on her hand. She had gained nothing by trying to warn Julian. He had not believed a word she said.
What would he do to her?
He thought her guilty of the vilest crime. He would probably demand her death.
She heard the sound of shuffling feet and saw the shadow of a guard outside the arched doorway. She was a prisoner.
Burying her face in her hands, she was overcome with misery.
Julian silently listened to Heikki.
“Sheik Moussami fully expects to be the leader of the Badari. His two sons support him in this action, especially the elder. The younger one does not feel comfortable about going against your father.”
“How many follow him?” Julian wanted to know.
“His own tribe, which number over three hundred. There are at least five other sheiks who have met with him, but I was unable to learn the outcome of those meetings.”
“This is what I want you to do, Heikki. Send riders to those five sheikdoms and charge the leaders to meet me at my mother’s villa on the lower Nile. Say that they must come at once and bring only enough guards to ensure their safety.” Julian was thoughtful for a moment before he said, “Heikki, I want you to go to Sheik Moussami and inform him I request his presence.”
Desert Prince Page 9