Desert Prince

by Constance O'Banyon

  After dressing, she fastened the belt about her waist, then slid her feet into her sandals. Finding an ivory comb, she worked the snarls out of her hair, then walked to the window and gazed out into the small courtyard.

  Turning away, Sabinah paced the room and went back to the window, wondering again how she was going to pass her time. She was accustomed to being active and did not take well to idleness.

  Later in the afternoon she heard the sound of more riders approaching, and after that there was a continuous stream of arrivals.

  Curious, she wondered what it could all mean.

  When the tribal leaders and their entourages arrived, Julian had them directed to a camp he had set up at Twelve Palm Oasis, which was but a short ride from the villa. For the moment he was unable to discern friend from foe. His father had taught him that dissension was like a canker sore, and if allowed to fester, it would affect the whole Badari people. There had been peace and prosperity among the tribes for generations, but if war erupted, it would tear them apart.

  So far only four of the six sheiks Julian had sent for had arrived—Sheik Moussimi was not among them. Julian had not expected him to be, but he did expect him to have a spy among those who attended. How else would the man find out how much Julian knew about his rebellion?

  Julian moved through the crowd toward the four sheiks who were gathered about a huge campfire built to ward off the cold that had come with sundown. Three of them were older and more experienced than he, men he had respected all his life. One of them, the youngest, was Julian’s boyhood friend. They would test him tonight; Julian expected no less from them. The sheiks would want to know his strengths and his weaknesses. If he wanted them to follow his lead, he must be a leader. He met each man’s steady gaze, and they bowed their heads to him one by one.

  Would they accept his authority? Apollodorus thought they would, but that was yet to be determined.

  “My father sent me,” he began, “to end the squabbling within the western tribes and to prevent a break among our people. I would ask that each of you tell me whatever you think I should know. Do not fear to voice your slightest grievance. We are all like family. We may disagree, but if we tear each other apart, we will not even be allies. None us want to see that happen. Together we are an unbeatable force—divided, we are weakened and vulnerable to our enemies.”

  One of the men in the crowd spoke up. “My father sent me. He could not come himself, so I stand before you in his stead.”

  “And you are?” Julian asked.

  “Tassum, son of Sheik Moussimi. I am here to put a stop to the lies spread about my father.”

  Julian scrutinized the man’s face, trying to remember if he had ever seen him. If he had known him in the past, he had forgotten him. The man was tall and beefy, a younger version of his father, whom Julian did remember.

  Julian knew he was looking into the eyes of Moussimi’s spy. “Say what you will,” Julian urged him. “We all have a voice here. We are Badari.”

  Julian watched Tassum’s eyes flicker as if he would like to argue the matter.

  The man walked around Julian, his hard gaze insulting. “You will hear those who agree with you. But that is not my father’s way of thinking. Too long have the Badari been held down by one family.”

  Tassum waited as if wanting Julian to disagree.

  Julian’s expression did not alter. “Continue.”

  Tassum frowned as if the confrontation was not going to his satisfaction. “These sheiks will speak out against my father. Know they do not speak the truth.” His insolent gaze swept over the leaders.

  “I have heard many things. We are here to discover the truth,” Julian said in a still, calm voice.

  “Your father is a traitor, Tassum, as are you,” Sheik Ben-Gari interjected. “You know it, and we here know it as well.”

  Tassum’s face reddened. “I will not remain to breathe the same air as my father’s accusers. But I take mark of each man here, and my father shall know your names.”

  “Your father was invited—why did he not come?” Julian asked.

  Tassum gave a slow, hard smile. “My father does not recognize your right to call the tribesmen together. You are not Lord Ramtat.”

  “And you are not yet a sheik,” Julian retaliated, “yet I have allowed you to speak for your father, as I speak for mine.”

  Tassum stalked angrily toward his horse, leaving silence behind him.

  Julian watched the man mount and ride into the night. He turned to the others. “Is there any truth in his accusations?”

  “Sheik Moussimi is not a man to be trusted,” Sheik Ben-Gari said, rising to his feet. “From his ambitions rise the real danger.”

  Ben-Gari was Julian’s age, though shorter in stature and more muscular. His face was wide, and his nose hooked at the end, but no one noticed because his smile was so engaging. He and Julian had trained together as youths and had developed a strong friendship at that time. Julian hoped he could still call him his friend.

  “What kind of danger do you speak of?” Julian asked.

  “The man uses fear to rule his tribe. He chose a time when your father was out of the country to challenge his authority, Lord Prince,” Ben-Gari said.

  His friend surprised Julian by using his formal title. When they had been young, there was no formality between them. Julian realized Ben-Gari was setting the tone of respect for the other sheiks to follow.

  “Most of us have a clear notion who the troublemakers are. Sheik Moussimi has been disgruntled for years. And of late he has been talking of war, which most of us do not want.”

  Sheik Ajman stood, holding up his hand for attention. He was an older man with heavy eyelids that made him look sleepy, when, in fact, those dark eyes missed nothing. He was thin and short, and unlike the others, who were clean shaven, he wore a beard. Ajman looked at Julian with a steady gaze. “What Ben-Gari says is true, although many of you here have turned a blind eye to Moussimi’s mischief for years. Truth be told, his ambitions go even further. He has spoken openly of breaking away from the Badari, and I am sure, since he approached me, that he has also asked the rest of you to join him.”

  Sheik Hodez, a white-headed man with sun-wrinkled skin and a frail appearance, nodded. “Moussimi incites people with promises of wealth if he is made leader. He craves your father’s place as prince of the Badari. He says we are made weak because we serve a lord who fled from our enemies and left the rest of us defenseless.”

  Julian knew this was the moment to prove his strength and show he was worthy of his father. “As prince of the Badari, my father has always put the good of the tribe before anything else. Because Octavian is determined to destroy my family, the Badari would also have been in danger from Rome had we remained among you. At the time, many of you asked my father to fight Rome, but he refused to spill your blood on our family’s behalf. Though I am still under a death sentence if I am discovered, I came here to settle this division among our people!”

  There was a nod of heads, a look of respect.

  “The one thing I expect from all of you,” Julian continued, “is to look to your own safety. The Roman who has pledged to spill Tausrat blood knows I have returned and is searching for me.”

  “Moussimi will attempt to widen the division among our people now that you have returned,” Ben-Gari stated forcefully. “We should act quickly! I saw for myself that a large number of Badari were gathering at his encampment not two weeks past.”

  “Then the rebellion goes deeper than I thought.” Julian knew his father would have returned to Egypt had he known the extent of the insurrection. “Are there any among you who feel the same as Moussimi?”

  “Nay,” cried one of the older sheiks. “We are loyal.”

  “We serve only the Tausrat family,” another chimed in. “Your family has guided us and kept us safe for generations. None here will join Moussimi.”

  Julian’s gaze swept over the faces of his fellow Badari. “Why is Sheik Hajer not
present? It is but a day’s ride from his encampment.”

  “I have heard rumors he is considering joining Moussimi,” Ben-Gari stated. “I, myself, do not believe he would join with such a man.”

  “Hajer is not a wise sheik and will follow whomever he sees as the strongest!” exclaimed Sheik Dawasira, rising to his feet. “Defeat Moussimi, and you will have no trouble with any of the lesser sheiks. Offer to meet him in single combat and settle this. How can he refuse without bringing shame upon himself?”

  Many differences had been settled over the years by such contests. The rule was that the winner would be the first one to draw blood. “If what I have heard of this man is true, I doubt he will agree to fight me, but if he will, I will face him.” Julian searched each man’s eyes. “You do understand if Moussimi does not agree to meet me in combat, there will be war.”

  “Aye,” the others agreed, one after the other.

  Julian’s gaze became fierce, reminding those present of his father.

  “Know this—I speak with the voice of my father. If I thought it would benefit the Badari to break away from the house of Tausrat, I would allow them to leave. But we all know such a breach would only make us weaker.”

  Sheik Dawasira shook his head. “I do not want war—none of us do. But if it comes, we will follow you.”

  Julian was grateful for the support. “I shall send my challenge to Sheik Moussimi. If he takes it up, we may be able to settle this unrest without an all-out conflict.”

  “It is more than unrest with Moussimi. He is driven by power and greed,” Ben-Gari said. “I do not believe he will agree to settle this with single combat. We should make ready to meet him in battle.”

  The sheiks mumbled among themselves and finally came to an agreement. Sheik Dawasira became the voice of the others. “If you can settle the conflict, my prince, let it be.”

  Julian nodded in agreement. “Go to your beds for now. Tomorrow return to your encampments. Post guards and keep your women and children close. I will send word to you when I am ready to face Moussimi.”

  Julian was not sure he could ask these worthy men to go into battle with him should war erupt. He was still feeling his way as a leader and feared he might make a mistake. But one thing was certain—if he did not squelch Moussimi’s rebellion before it escalated, war would come, and the tribes would be ripped apart.

  Each sheik bowed to him before taking his leave, offering words of encouragement.

  When Ben-Gari was preparing to leave, Julian asked him to remain and spoke to him quietly. “Have you someone in Sheik Moussimi’s tribe that you can trust?”

  “There are those I trust. Sheik Moussimi will be watched at all times.”

  “His son will have told him all who were here tonight. Do not do anything dangerous. Have a care for your safety.”

  Ben-Gari grinned, reminding Julian of the boy he had been. “Did we not face far worse dangers when we were but lads?”

  Julian remembered the time the two of them had wandered away from the encampment and become hopelessly lost in the desert. By the time Julian’s father had found them, they were sick from thirst and overexposure to the sun. “We learned never to go unprepared. It is a lesson I shall use if this rift cannot be healed.”

  The two men clasped arms.

  Ben-Gari said, “I am glad you have returned. I have missed you, my friend. Did you not bring home a wife? Someone said they saw a great lady with you when you arrived.”

  “Nay. I have no wife.” He did not want to discuss Sabinah with anyone. “What of you?”

  “I have my eye on a lovely lady. She has many suitors for her hand. I do not know if she even likes me.”

  “I remember well your persistence. There is no doubt in my mind you will win the lady.”

  “I am not so certain. But I will live in misery if she chooses another.”

  Julian became serious. “I would ask that you leave at first light tomorrow morning. Find out what you can as quickly as you can. Meanwhile, I will send scouts to all the tribes, informing them of what we talked about tonight. We must know who is with us, and who follows Moussimi.”

  Julian watched Ben-Gari leave, thinking of the problem that faced him. If his father had been at the gathering tonight, would he have known how to draw the Badari together?

  Julian rode back to the villa, stabling his horse. As he made his way toward the house, a shadow fell across the walkway in front of him, and Uriah appeared, searching Julian’s face.

  “Did your meeting go well?”

  Uriah was in one of his lucid moments, and Julian wanted his advice. “There may be war, and I hate the idea of so many deaths.”

  “It is always so in war. But you may prevent that outcome if you anticipate your enemy’s moves. Stand eye-to-eye with him, know his strengths and weaknesses, and be ready to take advantage of both. In acting thus, war may be avoided. Wise leaders throughout history have done so. You must not forget that the great Alexander’s blood runs through your veins.”

  “What would my father do?”

  Uriah smiled. “Had your father remained in Egypt, no one would have tested his strength. Show the others that you are Lord Ramtat’s son, and that if they strike you, they come up against a formidable force.”

  Julian nodded. “I shall try.”

  “Nay. You shall succeed.”

  “I need your wisdom, Uriah.”

  The old man walked down the path, his hands clasped behind him as if he had not heard Julian.

  “Uriah.”

  “Who are you?” the old man said. “Leave me alone. I must seek my bed.”

  Discouraged, the young desert prince closed his eyes. His father had placed power in his hands and trusted him to settle the dissension among the tribes—he must not fail.

  He turned his gaze toward the west, wishing Apollodorus would arrive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was the next morning before Sabinah had gathered enough courage to venture past the small courtyard outside her bedchamber. She expected a guard to be posted outside the wall to stop her, but there was no one there, so she ventured farther down the pathway.

  The sky was clear, the land awash in sunlight, and it lifted her spirits to be away from the house where she had been a prisoner. Off to her left she could see grape arbors, and it was tempting to walk in that direction.

  Hearing the roar of a lion, she smiled and turned her steps down the path that led to the huge fenced area. As she drew near, Sabinah saw how large the pens were. She counted a lion, two lionesses, and two leopards. Their surroundings, including several shade trees and ponds, had obviously been created for their comfort.

  When she drew up to the lion enclosure, she pulled back when a huge male approached the fence, pressing his nose against it. Gathering her courage, she took hesitant steps toward the big cat. She could feel her hand tremble as she reached out to the animal.

  Sabinah giggled when she felt its rough tongue lap against her fingers. Feeling braver because the cat did not attempt to eat her hand, she buried her fingers in its stiff mane. The lion seemed to purr, rubbing his face against her fingers.

  Sabinah felt hands span her waist, and she was lifted and jerked away from the enclosure.

  Julian glared at her. “Do not think because the cats seem tame, they will not tear your hand off! You are a stranger to Tibon, and he is, after all, a wild animal.”

  Sabinah clasped her hands behind her back, feeling rebuked. “I love animals.”

  “Do not reach inside the enclosure again unless I am with you. These cats are old, and they oft have a day when they do not want any human near them.”

  “Why do you keep the animals in enclosures?”

  “Simply because they would not know how to survive otherwise.”

  “You say these cats are old. I see Tibon has lost most of his teeth. Does no one here train new animals?”

  “Not since my mother left.”

  Sabinah saw Julian glance into the distance
, and her gaze followed his. There were several tents being disassembled as the sheiks prepared to leave. “What is happening there?” she asked.

  “Nothing that need concern you.”

  Sabinah observed sadness darken Julian’s eyes, and he looked weary. She wondered why. Instinctively she reached out and laid her hand against his cheek. “Something troubles you.”

  Her fingers were cool upon his face. Looking into her eyes, he saw concern reflected there. But not trusting her motives, he swatted her hand away as if it were a deadly spider. “I warned you before, do not try any of your tricks here. They might work on your Roman friends, but not on me.”

  She longed for the past when he had smiled at her and called her Sunshine. “I have no Roman friends, Julian, and I have no tricks. I stand before you guiltless.”

  “Your guilt is yet to be determined, but I am constantly reminded you are from that cursed family who caused my grandmother’s death. If you have favor with any of the gods, now would be the time to ask for their help.”

  “I am too insignificant for the gods to notice. I ask help of you.”

  Julian stared at her long and hard. “Why should I help you?”

  “I ask you to trust me. Believe what I tell you is true. Know that I would never do anything to harm you. How often must I say this to you?”

  “You want my trust. Then no doubt you want me to send you back to your stepmother so you can inform Tribune Vergilius where to find me.”

  Sabinah raised her chin, overcome with frustration. “If I return to Alexandria, it will only be a matter of time before my stepmother forces me to wed Tribune Vergilius, and I despise him.”

  Julian jerked her into his arms, angry because her words had awakened a fierce jealousy inside him. “You would have me believe you despise him, and yet you say he wants you for his wife. I was right not to trust you. Have you no wish to live in glorious Rome, as part of the court of the great Augustus?” he taunted.