Desert Prince

by Constance O'Banyon

  Sabinah pushed against him, but his hold on her only tightened. “Nay. I do not want to leave Egypt, and I will never allow that man to touch me again.”

  Julian studied her for a long moment as if he were weighing her words. “So he has touched you.”

  She looked into his green eyes, wishing she could make him understand what horrors she had experienced at Vergilius’s hands. She started to say something, but he held up his hand to silence her.

  “Save yourself the trouble of denying your feelings for the man.” He wanted to shake her, to crush all thoughts of the Roman from her mind. “Nothing you can say will convince me to believe you.”

  “Must I remind you of this?” she asked, raising her head and looking into his eyes. “I have kept Ptolemy Caesarion’s secret. Surely that is enough proof that you can trust me.”

  Julian wanted to lay his face against hers—he wanted to feel her silken body against his—he wanted to once more touch his mouth to her sweet lips. “Careful that you do not mention my cousin’s name once too often, or you might hasten your punishment.”

  “If that is my fate, to be punished, then do it.”

  Julian had never met a woman like Sabinah, and he did not know what to make of her, or for that matter, what to do with her. He stared into her eyes and found himself gravitating toward her as if drawn by an invisible cord. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his arms and stepped away from her. “Return to the house and remain in your chamber until I decide what is to be done with you.”

  She surprised him again when she came to him, laying her head against his shoulder. “I told you long ago I loved you, and I still do.”

  Julian wanted to enclose her in his arms, to hold her until his body stopped quaking. Turning his head, he placed his mouth against the top of her sweet-smelling head, nuzzling the red strands. His heart skipped a beat when she nestled closer to him. When he realized what he was doing, he flung her away from him, but what he really wanted to do was hold her. “Deceiver! Never again utter such words to me.”

  Sabinah turned and ran toward the house, fighting tears. Nothing she could say would change Julian’s mind about her.

  For the next two days Sabinah did not see Julian. She had overheard one of the servants telling another that their master had ridden into the desert. Sabinah chose not to ask when he would be returning, although she wanted to know.

  Sitting in a small alcove in the library with her feet tucked beneath her, she was reading a scroll she had pulled from one of the shelves. The text was a treatise on how to care for and feed wild animals. What really interested her was the mixtures of herbs and potions to treat ailments the animals might develop.

  Sabinah was absorbed in what she was reading and jumped guiltily when she heard someone enter the room. She was relieved to find it was Uriah.

  “So you are a reader,” he said, moving toward her and taking a stool. “Let me see what has captured your interest.”

  She handed him the scroll, glad his mind was clear today.

  “Ah. This was written by Lord Mycerinus. He was considered to be the foremost expert in wild animal training. He taught his daughter to train big cats. My sweet Danaë could train a cat to be so gentle it would eat out of her hand.”

  “Everyone has heard the story of how she saved Queen Cleopatra’s life.”

  “Aye. And now she must pay because of her connection to the queen. She suffers greatly at being forced to leave Egypt.”

  “You were her teacher, were you not?”

  He smiled as if he was thinking about treasured memories. “Most of the time, it was Danaë who taught me. She is extraordinary.”

  “I have always thought the whole Tausrat family extraordinary. Lord Ramtat was not only a high lord and adviser to the queen, but a prince of the desert as well.”

  Uriah glanced about him. “You know Danaë no longer comes to see me as she once did. Maybe she has forgotten about me.”

  Sabinah realized Uriah’s mind was wandering. “I do not believe that is the case,” she said, trying to soothe him. “Rather it must be that she is too far away to visit.”

  Uriah looked puzzled, and she saw the blank stare cloud his eyes. “Of whom were you speaking, and who are you?”

  “I am Sabinah, Uriah,” she said kindly, going down on her knees before him. “Would you like me to help you back to your room so you can lie down?”

  He shook his head. “I would like it if someone would read to me. I used to read, and sometimes I still do.” A tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek. “But right now, I cannot remember how.”

  She stood, her heart breaking for the dear old man. “Which scroll would you like to hear?”

  With his hand trembling, he reached into the folds of his robe and handed her one. She thought he would be better off if he lay down, but if he wanted her to read to him, she would.

  The text Sabinah read was beyond her understanding. There were many scientific words, hard to pronounce, which had no meaning to her. She stumbled over the passages, watching the old man nod his head as if he understood the difficult concepts.

  Sabinah did not hear Julian, nor did she know he was standing in the doorway watching her. She came to a passage that caught her interest, and something that sounded familiar to her. She marked the place with her finger. “What does chemy mean? I have seen this in some of my father’s scrolls.”

  Uriah studied the tips of his fingers for a moment as if reaching for answers. Suddenly he smiled. “That is the Greek khymeia, the art of melting precious metals.”

  “Since my father was a goldsmith, most probably I heard him mention the term at one time or another.” She smiled at Uriah. “If I had been his son rather than his daughter, he would have taught me his craft.” She lowered her head. “I miss him so.”

  “Dulus Jannah was a good and honorable man,” Uriah said, nodding. “I counted him among my friends.”

  Sabinah reached out and touched Uriah’s hand. “Thank you for saying that. With all that has happened since the queen’s death, people have forgotten my father was a good man. It makes me sad that there is a stigma attached to his honorable name that not even time can erase.”

  “Time erases many things, my dear. It is even eating away at the corners of my mind.”

  “You need have no fear, Uriah. You are greatly loved and when your time comes, you will leave this life with a name of honor, whereas I will always bear the shame of my stepmother’s and stepsister’s misdeeds. Of all the treasures one can gain in life, I believe honor is the most important.”

  Uriah nodded. “You are wise to have come to that conclusion so young.”

  “Those were my father’s thoughts. But I believe them.”

  The old man studied her closely. “You look nothing like Dulus Jannah.”

  “I am told I favor my mother in looks.” She lowered her head, seeming to study the text on her lap. “But I do not remember my mother. A neighbor who knew her told me she had a kind heart. I do not know if this is so.”

  “You are right to doubt—we cannot always believe what we are told,” Julian stated from his place at the doorway.

  Sabinah glanced up to find his gaze resting on her, his eyes seeming to flame with the fire of life.

  “Come forward, my boy, and join us,” Uriah said. “We are discussing science, and the philosophy of family likenesses.”

  Julian remained where he was. “So I heard.”

  The old man looked suddenly puzzled. “Young man, just what did you hear?” His mind was wandering once more.

  Julian’s gaze remained on Sabinah—he liked the way the sunlight from the open window brought a high sheen to the red curls massed about her face. Her honey-colored skin invited a man’s touch, and her full soft lips invited thoughts that he would rather not examine. Her face was turned up to his, the fringe of her long lashes fanned out against her cheeks. “By the gods,” he admitted, “you are a rare beauty.”

  Sabinah could do no more than stare at Julian.
Surely he meant to mock her. She was no beauty, and they both knew it.

  “I shall not interrupt your reading any longer. Please continue,” Julian said.

  Sabinah watched him leave with an ache in her heart. It was clear he could not abide being in the same room with her. When she heard him outside the window, she turned to watch him. He walked with the assurance of one highborn. His long black hair was tied back with a leather thong. She never tired of looking at him, and her heart would never turn from his.

  “Read on,” Uriah said eagerly, his mind returning to the present. “I like the sound of your voice.”

  Sabinah’s thoughts were on Julian, and she had not heard Uriah.

  He chuckled.

  “An old man like me cannot compete with such a handsome young man. But all the same, I would like to hear you read.”

  She smiled slightly, lifting the scroll, and searching for the place she had left off. There was a quiver in her voice as she read, and it did not go unnoticed by Uriah.

  He looked through the window at Julian, who was speaking to one of his Badari. Uriah would have to be a blind man not to see something was going on between the two young people. But there was mistrust on Julian’s part, and lost hope on the lovely young woman’s. Julian was highborn, and she was a goldsmith’s daughter—a cruel mismatch—but young love did not care about such a difference.

  Blankness hit Uriah with a suddenness that drained all present thoughts from his mind, and he rose unsteadily. “I have a strong craving for honeyed figs. I will raid the kitchen and then lie down a bit. Finish with your lessons, or your mother shall hear of it.” Poor Uriah was off in another world again.

  Sabinah rolled the scroll and placed it on the shelf by the window, noticing a brilliant sunset washed the land in scarlet.

  Later as evening crept toward night, she walked down the corridor preceded by a young servant carrying a lantern, the smoke making a serpentine trail toward the high ceiling. When they reached her bedchamber, the young woman placed the lantern on a low table and disappeared.

  Sabina eased herself down onto a cushioned stool. In this room she somehow felt close to Julian’s mother, and therefore close to Julian. Here Lady Danaë had grown into a young woman.

  When she had dreamed of one day meeting a man she would love, how could Lady Danaë have known she would one day marry the great Lord Ramtat?

  Had there been a night for Julian’s mother like this one for Sabinah when she felt lonely and wished the future would open up to her so she could see where her life would lead?

  Sabinah leaned her head back, staring at the high ceiling. Lady Danaë had been highborn and must have known she would marry a man of equal station.

  “Julian,” she said aloud, “how long I have loved you, knowing you will never love me.” The sound of her own voice echoed around the high ceiling, making her feel more alone and frustrated.

  Ignoring her hunger, she stripped off her robe and climbed onto the bed. The gods had been cruel to her, leading her to love a man she could never have.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Apollodorus dismounted and walked toward Julian, his expression giving nothing away.

  “I am glad you arrived today. I was beginning to worry.”

  Apollodorus wiped sweat from his brow and stepped beneath the shade of a palm, but since it was late afternoon it afforded him little protection from the sun. “It seems hotter than usual this year. The rains are late.”

  “So the workers keep telling me.” Julian met the Sicilian’s gaze. “Have you any word?”

  “It is too hot to stand out here. Let us seek a cooler place, and I shall tell you all.”

  When they reached the garden, Apollodorus splashed water on his face and neck before cupping his hands and drinking deeply from a fountain. “It feels better to wash some of the sand away.”

  “What is your news?” Julian asked impatiently.

  The older man smiled, sitting down on a marble bench. “Sabinah’s message was delivered to her stepmother. I am told the woman shrieked and carried on without end. Finally she questioned our messenger, and he did as he was instructed. He told her a young woman paid him a copper to take the message to her, and he did not know who the woman was or where she had gone.”

  “What said the stepmother?”

  “According to our man, the stepsister entered the room, and after discovering what had happened to Sabinah, laughed and stated they were finally rid of the person who had done nothing but insult their Roman friends.”

  “And the stepmother’s reaction?”

  “After giving it some thought, she agreed with her daughter.”

  Julian took a deep breath. “Then we can assume Sabinah has been telling the truth all along.”

  “So it would seem. Your serving woman, Rafta, applied to the kitchen mistress and was given work. Rafta came to me last night with word of what the servants had told her. Apparently the stepmother and stepsister have no fondness for Sabinah. It seems Sabinah does insult their Roman guests every chance she gets. The head cook, who has a fondness for the youngest mistress, is worried what Tribune Vergilius might do to Sabinah. It seems the Roman has gone as far as gaining a dispensation so he can marry an Egyptian. The one he wants to marry is our little Sabinah.”

  “So she was truthful about that.”

  Apollodorus nodded.

  “Did the servants say what Sabinah’s answer was to Vergilius’s offer?”

  “She will not have him and told him so.”

  Julian realized he had been holding his breath, but he did not want Apollodorus to know how deep his feelings were for Sabinah.

  “The young woman seems to be just what she presented herself to be. I discreetly asked around the marketplace about the family. Few have anything good to say about the stepmother or the stepsister because of their association with the hated Romans.”

  “What said they about Sabinah?” Julian asked.

  “I could find none who did not lavish her with praise. They spoke of her kindness to those less fortunate, and remarked upon her steadfast devotion to Egypt. Many remarked that it was a shame for such an innocent young woman to be exposed to the vices in her stepmother’s house.”

  Julian felt ashamed of the way he had treated Sabinah when all along she had been blameless. “I misjudged her,” he admitted.

  Apollodorus was looking speculative. “It has occurred to me that we could use her to gain information. Think of it—she has access to the Roman commanders. No one would suspect her of being a spy.”

  Julian wanted to protest, but Apollodorus was right. If they returned her to Alexandria, Sabinah would be in the right place to learn how much the Romans knew about his family. But he did not want to put her in danger. And he said as much to Apollodorus. “It might be dangerous for her.”

  Apollodorus shrugged. “We live in dangerous times.”

  Julian frowned and started pacing.

  Apollodorus watched him closely, suddenly understanding the young prince’s disquiet. “Then again, perhaps we should explore other ways to find out what we need to know. Rafta is still working in the kitchen of the stepmother’s house. And just because she has not learned anything of import yet does not mean she will not.”

  The last thing Julian wanted to do was send Sabinah back to that house of vipers. But what recourse had he? “There will be little chance of Rafta overhearing the Romans’ conversations,” he said with resignation.

  “I sense a hesitation in you.”

  “It is strange that I cannot put my feelings for Sabinah into words. I have been with women of more beauty, and yet none of them stirred me as deeply as she has. Sabinah was in my thoughts even before I left Egypt.” He met Apollodorus’s dark gaze. “Why do you think that is?”

  The Sicilian tried not to smile. “I have little doubt the meaning will come to you with the passage of time.”

  “I have treated her badly,” Julian said. “She came to warn me of danger, and I made her my prison
er. I would not blame her if she refused to help me.”

  “It is something you will have to consider before you put the proposition before her.”

  “Aye.” Julian turned to glance at the house. “I have had many hard choices to make since returning to Egypt.” He quickly told Apollodorus what had happened at the meeting with the sheiks.

  “You must face Moussimi in combat—but from what I understand the man is no longer young. He will most probably choose another to champion his cause.”

  “I would expect him to, and I shall accept whomever he chooses.”

  Sabinah sat before the window in her bedchamber, gazing at the parchment on her lap. The door was open, and she heard footsteps approaching so she put the parchment aside, glancing up in surprise to find her visitor was Julian.

  “I wish to speak to you,” he said, advancing into the chamber.

  She stood, clasping her hands in front of her, silently waiting for him to continue.

  Julian swept his hand before him. “Perhaps you would consent to accompany me to the garden—it is cooler there.” He saw the puzzled expression on her face. “There is something I want to ask of you.”

  “As you like,” she remarked. There was something different about his attitude toward her. He was treating her with respect, and she wondered what had caused the change. He wore a short pleated tunic with a gold beaded belt about his waist. His hair was covered with an Egyptian headdress that fell to his shoulders. His hawk was perched on his gloved arm, its head covered by a red leather hood. Julian looked so regal there was no mistaking his nobility.

  When Sabinah stepped in front of him, Julian noticed how slender she was. Her wrists were so dainty he could snap them without half trying. The bone structure of her face was delicate. As she moved he saw the slight sway of her hips, and a lump formed in his throat. She was young and vulnerable, yet he was about to ask her to risk her life to help him.

  When they reached the pond, he motioned for her to be seated while he paced before her. “I have something to say to you.”