“I believe you.”
“You will never know how close you came to destruction when Tribune Vergilius tortured and killed Ramtat’s mother. Lady Larania was honored by Egyptians and revered by the Badari.”
“The woman did not die by my orders.”
“She died because she would not tell Tribune Vergilius where to locate her family, and your tribune had the authority to torture and kill her because you gave it to him. It was an atrocity. Lady Larania had no blood connection to the Egyptian queen. Her only tie was a daughter-in-law who was Queen Cleopatra’s half sister. At that time, I can tell you it took all Ramtat’s strength of command to hold his Badari in check. They were crying out for Roman blood—your blood. Had Ramtat not contained them, you would have found a Badari dagger at your throat one night when you were sleeping, rather than merely a note on your pillow.”
Augustus paled, dropping onto a chair. “You know about that?”
“I have heard about it. I will not say how.”
“Why does the person who comes into my bedchamber not kill me?”
“Because Lord Ramtat has not authorized him to do so. He is sending you a message that he can end your life any time he wants to. If Ramtat had wanted you dead, you would be dead.”
Augustus knew the truth when he heard it. “I will consider what you have said. Remain here in Rome. If I decide to remove the death warrant, I will want you to deliver the message in person.”
Marcellus did not trust this man. “I would accept this mission only if you put it through the Senate, and they agree to the terms.”
Augustus flinched at the insult; his word alone was not good enough for Marcellus. “You dare to challenge me!”
“It is the only way Lord Ramtat will believe you. Why should he trust you when you have caused his family so much suffering?”
Augustus nodded. “I suppose looking at the situation from his point of view, I would feel much the same,” he said in a bristly manner.
“One thing more. If I were Tribune Vergilius, I would hide in the deepest hole I could find. He has not long to live.”
“You threaten one of my officers?”
“Nay, not I. There are many who want his death. But they have held their hands because the honor of slaying him goes to Ramtat.”
“He is a trusted officer.”
“He is a dead man.” Marcellus stared at Octavian for a long moment. “A life for a life. I would advise you to let it go at that.”
The emperor was too shocked to respond. Marcellus had just told him one of his officers would be struck down, and that he should do nothing about it. It nettled him that the master architect had won in their verbal battle. “If Tribune Vergilius is slain, you are saying I must not retaliate?”
“That is the way of it.” Marcellus moved toward the door. “You know where to find me should you have need of me.”
Augustus watched him leave, thinking he should never have placed a death sentence on Lord Ramtat’s family. He must reverse his decision and put the matter before the Senate, who would do as he advised them. Only then would he find peace in his sleep.
He shivered, remembering the old crone’s predictions and Marcellus’s warnings. He could not have foreseen the dire consequences of his edict the day of Queen Cleopatra’s death.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sabinah awoke feeling sick. Her head pounded, and her stomach felt uneasy. Blinking her eyes, she was bewildered, not knowing where she was or what had happened to her. Memories returned bit by bit, then swept over her like waves breaking on stone as she relived each horrible detail.
She remembered Julian had remained with her throughout the night. Turning her head slowly, she saw he was no longer there. She recognized the room as the one she had occupied in Uriah’s house.
When Sabinah attempted to move her arm, it took her several tries to succeed. It took her still longer to sit up and move her legs off the edge of the bed.
Realizing she was naked, she tucked the coverlet about her and tried to stand. The room swam, and she dropped back onto the bed, tears gathering in her eyes. She remembered Trisella being so kind and solicitous to her, and realized it should have made her suspicious. Even when her stepmother had urged Sabinah to go to bed and then had brought her wine, she had not suspected her motives.
Sabinah dropped her head in her hands, shaking with silent sobs. How could Trisella have sacrificed her for her own selfish desires? She would never forgive her stepmother for such an atrocity.
She jerked her head up when she heard the door open, and Julian entered.
“I see you are awake. I only left for a moment.”
Sabinah wiped tears from her eyes. “When I try to move, it makes me feel ill.”
He dropped down beside her, turning her face to his. “Forgive me for sending you back into that house.”
“It was not your fault.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“M … my … stepmother drugged me!” She could not disguise the horror in her voice. “The drug put me to sleep. I awoke to hear her telling Vergilius what she had done.”
“Did Vergilius … did he—”
“Nay. But he would have if you had not arrived when you did.” A shiver quaked through her body. “I could not abide his hands on me.”
Julian nodded grimly. “As you may have guessed by now, Rafta overheard your stepmother speaking to Bastet of her plans for you. Rafta came directly to us, and we went directly to you.”
“I did not know you were in Alexandria.”
“I had not planned to be.”
Sabinah pulled the bedcovers up to her chin. “May the gods be praised you came when you did.”
He smiled grimly. “I will send the housekeeper to tend to your needs. I am sure you do not feel much like talking after such a night.”
She looked at him, feeling helpless. “What will I do now?”
“It is not safe here in Alexandria for you. You will come with me to the desert.”
She stared at him in amazement. “You will take me with you?”
He stood. “Nothing I can do or say can make up for what happened to you. But I intend to keep you with me.” He touched her hand and then moved away. “I will give you a day to rest, and then we must leave the city.”
He strode toward the doorway and turned back to her. “Forgive me.”
She could do no more than nod.
Julian stood for a long moment watching her, then moved out the door without another word.
Sabinah wanted to lose her sorrow in forgetfulness, to wipe out the pain of being betrayed in such a way.
Sleep.
That was what she craved.
And that was what she did.
Isadad opened the door a crack and peered around it, fearing what she would find. It was difficult to see most of the room because the lantern had burned down, and the morning sun had not yet topped the horizon. With dread in her heart, she glanced at the rumpled bed, but Sabinah was not there. Isadad opened the door wider, taking a cautious step inside.
She had been huddled outside the door all night because that Roman pig had gone into Sabinah’s bedroom and had not come out. Fearing what was happening to her poor sweet mistress, she had waited until she could stand it no longer before entering the chamber.
Tiptoeing farther inside, she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark. “Mistress?”
Isadad heard a muffled sound and spun around, almost jumping out of her skin when she saw the Roman tied to the bed! Even though he had been gagged, she understood his muted curses. Her gaze swept quickly around the room as she searched for Sabinah.
Where was her mistress?
Gazing back at the Roman, she could see fury in those dark eyes. She was too frightened to release him herself, so she tore out of the room. Racing down the corridor, she banged on the mistress’s door. When no one answered, Isadad banged harder. “Mistress, you must come at once! Something horrible has occurred!”
>
While Vergilius waited for the physician to arrive to set his broken fingers, he fumed, “Someone will answer for this atrocity.”
Trisella saw the fury in Vergilius’s dark eyes. “I cannot think how such a thing could happen in my home.”
“Madam, I might ask the same thing. How is it that the traitor, Lord Julian, has access to your daughter’s room?”
Trisella’s heart slammed against her chest in fright. Since the moment she’d cut the tribune free, she had feared for her life. “I have not seen Julian since his family disappeared right after Queen Cleopatra’s death. You must believe me.”
Vergilius held out his cup so she could pour more wine. “I hold you responsible for what happened here,” he said before taking a deep swallow of wine, wincing in pain.
“But surely you must realize I am innocent of any wrongdoing. I fear for my stepdaughter, who was taken by that traitor.”
He glared at her. “You did not seem overly concerned about Sabinah when you gave her the potion. You are a heartless harlot.”
Trisella’s eyes widened with fright. “Surely you have not forgotten it was I who urged Bastet to show you where Lady Larania lived.”
His forehead creased in thought. “You did, but even for that, I do not admire you, madam. Your stepdaughter dwelled among vipers in this house.”
“Sabinah is an irresponsible child who wants her own way. Why do you not look to Bastet? She will not have to be drugged to go to your bed.”
He took another long drink of wine and wiped his mouth. “Think you I have not already had Bastet, who is most willing to bed anyone who asks?” He moved his fingers and winced in pain. “It is a mystery to me how a woman such as you could have raised a rare jewel like Sabinah.”
Trisella felt her anger rise above her fear. “I have opened my house to you, when other Egyptians would not even speak to you. I took in your friends—”
“And took most of them to your bed. For which you were well compensated.”
In a panic, she stepped away from him. “What can I do to make this up to you?” she asked, her face reddening.
“I have had enough of your hospitality.”
“I may be able to help you locate Lord Julian,” Trisella said frantically. “At one time he favored Bastet. She may be able to help.”
“Madam, madam,” Vergilius said, swearing when pain shot through his hand. Sweat popped out on his brow, and he took another drink of wine. “All too many men have favored Bastet at one time or another.”
“You insult me.”
“Leave me in peace, woman. I am in pain.”
The physician arrived, and Trisella took that opportunity to rush from the room. Slowing her steps, she walked out into the morning light, knowing she was in danger of losing everything she had so carefully built over the years. If Tribune Vergilius no longer came to her house, others would stop as well.
She blamed Sabinah for all that had occurred.
Trisella walked down the pathway and back, her mind whirling. She and Bastet would return to poverty without the money they received from the Romans they entertained.
She was ruined … ruined.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sheik Ben-Gari was cautious as he approached the house of Uriah the Jew. Silently he slipped over the garden wall, making his way to the back of the house. Many times he and Julian had sat at the feet of Uriah, listening to the old man’s wisdom, so he knew the dwelling well.
A Badari guard stood beyond the garden, and although Ben-Gari was being cautious, the guard heard him. “Halt!” the man called out, lowering his spear so the point rested against Ben-Gari. “Identify yourself,” he demanded.
“Ssuom, you know who I am. Take me at once to the prince. I have dire news.”
Julian had fallen asleep sitting beside Sabinah’s bed. His keen hearing picked up the sound at the door. When he saw who it was, he motioned for silence and followed the two men into the garden.
“Prince Julian,” Ben-Gari said, reaching for the water pouch at his side and taking a quick drink to wash the dust from his throat. “Moussimi has not accepted your challenge. It is unthinkable—he insults you by issuing his own challenge.”
“Tell me.”
“He has asked that you meet both of his sons in combat. Should you win, he will step down as sheik of the western tribe, and you can name whomever you wish as sheik in his stead.”
Julian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I have the authority to replace him with whomever I choose, without the contest,” he stated.
Ben-Gari looked disappointed. He knew in his heart Julian was not a coward, but others must know it as well. “It is true, you have that power,” he said cautiously. “It is my thought that he expects you to decline. So he has offered to forgo the contest, if you take his youngest daughter as your wife.”
“The man is a fool.” Julian knew what he must do. “Send word to Moussimi that I shall meet his challenge. Twelve days hence, I shall arrive at his encampment.”
Heikki had just stepped into the garden, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “One of Moussimi’s sons is an expert in the bow, and the other with a spear. They believe you have not practiced your skills while you were away from Egypt.”
Julian smiled at his father’s general. “My good Heikki, I was not idle while on Bal Forea. Will you be comforted if I tell you my aunt, Adhaniá, instructed me in the bow?”
Heikki nodded with satisfaction. “If you are even half as good as she, you will vanquish Moussimi’s son without effort.”
“That still leaves the spear,” Ben-Gari stated.
“My uncle, Prince Ashtyn, was my instructor with the spear and lance.”
“It is cowardly that Moussimi asks you to meet both his sons. You could reject his challenge and meet only one of them in battle,” Ben-Gari stated emphatically.
“I shall meet them both,” Julian said with confidence. “This tyrant must be brought down. He cannot break Badari law without consequences. I will allow him to think I am caught in his trap lest I lose face with the Badari. Let us hope I can take away his victory by defeating his sons.”
Heikki grabbed Julian’s arm. “It is madness. Even if you are skilled and defeat the sons, Moussimi will never bend to your will.”
“He will have no choice,” Julian said. “You must see that the Badari demand it of him.”
“You do not expect to survive,” Ben-Gari said with understanding.
“If I do not, I will expect the two of you to force Moussimi to keep his word.”
Sabinah’s eyes were closed when she heard two servants moving quietly about the room. She was too weary to acknowledge them.
“Our prince said not to wake this lady,” a young voice whispered. “I overheard the Sicilian say they must leave the city by tonight and take her with them.”
“You overhear too much,” an older servant rebuked. After a moment the older woman’s curiosity must have gotten the better of her. “What else did you hear?”
“I heard the prince is going into combat. Alone. Against two of Sheik Moussimi’s sons. It is whispered among the men that he may be forced to marry the sheik’s daughter to bring peace to the Badari.”
“Enough gossip,” the older servant remarked.
Sabinah heard both servants leave and turned her head on the cushion. Tightening her body into a ball, she let exhaustion wash over her. She was not sure there had not been lasting effects from the drug because her arms and legs still felt so heavy. Her mind was still muddled. Did those women say Julian was going into combat against two other men?
Refusing to give in to sleep, she swung her legs off the bed and tried to stand, but her wobbly legs would not bear her weight. Frustrated by her own body’s weakness, she lowered herself back onto the bed, thinking if Julian was going into battle, it would be for a good reason.
She shook her head to clear it. Did those women say that Julian was to marry the daughter of a sheik? The thought hurt too much to pon
der.
It was nearing sundown when the servants returned to prepare Sabinah for the desert journey. They dressed her in buff-colored pantaloons, in the fashion worn by Persians. She was draped in a long surcoat with slits down the sides, allowing her freedom of movement. They placed a veil about her shoulders, and soft boots completed the regalia.
Though Sabinah still felt weak, she tried not to show it as the women escorted her to the back of the house.
A heavy mist hung over the land, which Sabinah thought might work to their advantage in escaping Alexandria. She was surprised to find Julian, Apollodorus, and six Badari garbed in knee-length belted tunics with long trousers. Their dark heads were covered with round leather caps embroidered in bright colors. Julian’s hawk was perched on his leather glove; the bird seemed alert, as if it sensed trouble.
When Julian looked up and noticed Sabinah, he sent his hawk into the sky and walked toward her. “How are you feeling?” he inquired with concern.
Refusing to let him know how weak she felt, she met his gaze. “Very well.”
“Are you up to riding?”
She was not even sure she could remain on a horse. “I always look for a reason to ride.” For the first time she noticed the white Egyptian horses they would be riding, and she understood why. They would be recognized immediately if they rode the spirited Badari breed.
Julian motioned for everyone to mount. “We will be traveling through backstreets to reach the city gates. Vergilius will be expecting us to leave by sea, but he will also have men posted at the gates,” Julian said, lifting Sabinah onto a swayback white horse that was no longer young. “We must remain silent until we are out of the city gates.”
Sabinah pulled the veil over her head, covering her red hair. One by one the Badari rode out the arched gate. Sabinah rode beside Apollodorus, and Julian was the last to leave.
She expected them to ride swiftly, but they kept at a steady pace, as if they had all the time in the world. She glanced about to see if anyone took notice of them. No one glanced up, not even when they passed through the marketplace.
Desert Prince Page 18