Desert Prince

by Constance O'Banyon

  Sayan smiled. “Mother,” he asked Thalia, “shall I be accompanying you to Egypt?”

  Thalia’s face whitened the merest bit. “Nay, my son,” she said gently. “I will need you to remain here. The people of the island would not feel safe if we all left them. And, of course, I will be leaving the children under your care.”

  He gave her a resigned nod. “I understand.”

  That night there was a celebration as the family gathered in the great banqueting hall. Danaë was seated beside Sayan and took his hand in hers. “You do understand why you must remain here?”

  His eyes, so like Caesar’s, met hers. “I do, my aunt. It does not matter. Everything I loved in Egypt is gone. Everything I now love is here on Bal Forea.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder, fighting tears. “I am glad you have found happiness here. You are well loved in this family.”

  “I have my memories, but I keep them in my heart.”

  “My sister, your mother, would be proud of you, as am I.”

  He smiled sadly. “I believe she would.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Two days passed, and in that time Sabinah only saw Julian from a distance. It was easy to see he was troubled and mentally preparing himself for battle. Although he was surrounded by warriors, he seemed so alone. She could imagine the weight he felt on his shoulders.

  The sun had risen on a bloodred sky, and the dust from the cavalcade of horses sifted through the air in fine granules. Sabinah was riding beside Apollodorus when Julian suddenly appeared at her side, staying even with her but remaining silent. Casting him a sideways glance, she saw he wore a short tunic and soft knee-high boots.

  Sabinah quivered as his dark gaze raked hers, reminding her how close they had been. She noticed his hands tighten on the reins and knew he was remembering as well.

  Sabinah turned her head from him, but not before she saw his nostrils flare. To be near him was torture and bliss. Nothing was clear between them. Though he had said he would not allow her to leave, no words had been spoken of a future together.

  At last Julian broke his silence. “I want to explain some things to you so you will not be taken by surprise at what is happening.”

  She turned to face him.

  “We will be meeting with tribesmen who are rebelling against my father’s rule. There may be trouble. You will be kept safely away from the fray. Should it go badly for us, Apollodorus will take you to safety. Do you understand how important it is that you remain with him?”

  She nodded, not really understanding why he must face this enemy. Overhead, there was the tinkling of a small bell, and Julian’s hawk landed on his gloved arm. The bird turned its head toward Sabinah and stared right at her.

  Julian took a deep breath. “Look to Apollodorus.”

  Sabinah reached out to him in desperation, then let her hand fall by her side. “Must there be a battle?”

  “There must. Do not concern yourself—the Badari you see here are our best warriors. They will defend you to a man.”

  “I am not concerned for my safety, Julian,” she said forcefully. “It is you who is going into battle, not me—you who will be in danger.”

  He ignored her outburst. “We will reach Moussimi’s encampment by tonight.” He looked as if he would have said more, but he nudged his heels into his horse’s flanks, and the animal sprang forward, leaving Sabinah to ponder his fate.

  She glanced up at the sky, praying to the gods to keep him safe.

  They ate in their saddles and stopped only to rest the horses. Just after the noon hour, they were joined by other warriors.

  Sabinah realized there could be an all-out war.

  Apollodorus nodded for her to halt, allowing the tribesmen to ride far enough ahead of them so they were not bothered by the dust of flying hooves.

  It was nearing dusk when they stopped for the night. This time no tents had been erected, and there were no campfires.

  Apollodorus indicated that the two of them would camp a short distance from the Badari. As they sat beneath the night sky, they dined on dried meat and fruit. It was strangely quiet with only an occasional horse stomping, or one of the men coughing. Apollodorus placed their sleeping mats upon the sand and motioned for Sabinah to take the one nearest the palm tree.

  “There must be over five hundred men in the encampment. Something momentous is happening. I see that the guards have been doubled.”

  Apollodorus agreed with a nod. “The guards are a precaution. As for the number of men, it would be closer to two thousand.”

  “Will you tell me what will happen tomorrow?”

  “Julian hopes to avoid a tribal war. He has been challenged by Sheik Moussimi’s two sons.”

  Her body tensed with fear. “I overheard servants speaking about it before we left Alexandria. How can he fight against two?”

  “Julian is not worried, and neither should you be.”

  Sabinah rested her head on her folded arms and stared at the blackened sky. “Are you worried, Apollodorus?”

  “Nay. I have seen Julian fight.”

  “Will they both come at him at the same time?”

  “General Heikki will make certain that does not happen. Sleep now, Sabinah. You must be weary.”

  “Where is the enemy camped?” she asked.

  Apollodorus sighed patiently. “There are no enemy among the Badari, Sabinah. There are only those who are misguided. The trouble is the opposing sheik is determined to rule in Lord Ramtat’s place. Julian is here to stop him.”

  “This is why he returned to Egypt,” she said with new understanding.

  “Aye. This is the reason.”

  “Tell me about this Sheik Moussimi.”

  “He has broken tribal law. If he is not made to answer for his injustices, his people will be vulnerable to their enemies because the other Badari will turn away from them.” Apollodorus shifted his weight and turned toward Sabinah. “Badari law is enforced by the Tausrat family. They are what hold the people together. If some of the sheiks take it into their heads to splinter off, their enemies will swoop down on them, killing the men and taking the women as slaves.”

  “Could that happen?”

  “I assure you it is happening. The one thing that keeps the tribe strong, and what makes enemies fear the Badari, is the might of Lord Ramtat.”

  “And Julian?”

  “He is here to enforce his father’s will. He is fearless and has been taught from birth where his duties lie.”

  Sabinah nodded, feeling fear for Julian, but knowing he must face this challenge and win. “May the gods protect him.”

  “Aye. But the gods oft protect the just. Have you not known that to be true?”

  She smiled at Apollodorus, realizing he was trying to ease her mind. “I have known that.” She frowned. “But I have also known great leaders, like Queen Cleopatra, who have died because of a tyrant.”

  Apollodorus was quiet for a time, and Sabinah thought he would say nothing more, but finally he spoke. “You loved the queen?”

  “I never knew her, but I was always her loyal servant, as was my father. In my heart, I still feel tied to her—is that not common among Egyptians?”

  Apollodorus surprised her when he touched her face. “In some ways you remind me of her.”

  Sabinah brushed away a tear. “No one has ever paid me such a great compliment.”

  “I am aware that you have kept Ptolemy Caesarion’s secret all these years. I am grateful to you for that.” He fell into silence. There was much about this young woman to admire. And she did remind him of his beloved dead queen. He had not felt any emotion toward a woman in a very long time. He did not want to see this loyal young woman hurt by anyone—not even Julian.

  He would make certain she was not.

  “How near is Sheik Moussimi’s camp?” she asked.

  “If you were to climb that tall sand dune in the distance, you would see his campfires.”

  Sabinah turned to her side.
The moon had not yet risen, and the night was as black as the inside of a tomb, and so were her spirits.

  The sun had just broken across the desert, and Julian cast a worried glance at the sky. The wind was not strong, but the dust clouds gathering in the west gave him some concern. He mounted his horse—nothing could deter him from his course.

  Riding away from camp, Julian was accompanied by his two most trusted warriors—Heikki rode to his right, Ben-Gari to his left. Julian had expected to feel some fear about what awaited him, but his only emotion was indignation toward the sheik who had broken Badari law. He was ready to meet the two sons in battle and force the sheik to face Badari judgment.

  Julian held up his hand and came to a halt at the top of the sand dune. Spread out before him was Moussimi’s encampment.

  The sheik’s tribesmen were lined up at attention, their hands on their weapons. “It would seem we are expected,” Heikki said with disgust. “Moussimi thinks to strike fear in your heart by showing his strength in numbers.”

  Moussimi’s purpose might be to intimidate Julian, but such a display merely made him angry. He rode through the two rows of Badari, making eye contact with as many as possible. Some he had known from his youth, but many he did not recognize. He set his gaze on the elder son, Tassum, and he assumed the other man standing beside Sheik Moussimi was the younger son.

  Dismounting, Julian saw the fury in Moussimi’s small greedy eyes, and he knew why; the sheik had expected Julian to bring all his warriors into the camp, thus angering Moussimi’s tribesmen. Instead, Julian faced the multitude with just two men at his side. Already he could see respect in some of the dark eyes that watched him.

  Moussimi was not a tall man. He had a round face and a small cruel mouth. One pudgy hand tested on his dagger, and his voice was laced with sarcasm when he said, “So you came. I was not sure you would take up my challenge.”

  Julian stood a good head taller than the sheik. “Did you not receive my message? You seem more than prepared for my arrival.” He turned to the others and raised his voice so they could hear. “Know you all that I come in the name of my father, your lord and prince. Laws have been broken—reckoning will be dealt swiftly to the guilty.”

  A few of Moussimi’s Badari stepped back from the line they had formed, dropping their weapons on the ground to show their loyalty. But most still held the line.

  Moussimi glared at those who moved away, but he quickly turned his attention back to Julian. “We serve no lord who deserts us in our time of need. We owe Lord Ramtat no loyalty.”

  Julian looked at the line of men. “Although my father was forced to leave Egypt, do not our Badari still patrol your lands, making certain you are safe? Did they not fight battles when others tried to encroach on your territory? Look at me—I am my father’s son, and I am here at his bidding—I speak as he would if he were here.”

  Several others warriors moved out of line and dropped their weapons.

  Rage twisted on Moussimi’s face. Clearly, events were not going to his satisfaction. “These are my sons. I believe you know the elder, Tassum.”

  Julian stepped in front of the man, assessing him carefully. “Which do you wield, bow or spear?”

  “I am master of the spear. Your own father awarded me a silver dagger for my skills.”

  Julian met the small eyes. “If that is so, you will be a skilled opponent.” He moved to the other son. “And you?”

  “My younger.” Moussimi said. “But do not let his youth fool you—if your father was here to award the Golden Arrow for best bowman, many agree Eanez would win the contest, just as your aunt did all those years ago.”

  In Eanez, Julian saw no resemblance to Moussimi. He was tall and slender, with large eyes. “If that is so, you are to be congratulated.” Julian smiled at the man, who must be about his age. “If you have heard the tale of my aunt Adhaniá, who is the only woman to have won the Golden Arrow, you might like to know she was my instructor with the bow.”

  There was real fear in Eanez’s eyes. “Everyone has heard of Lady Adhaniá’s skill with the bow.”

  Julian turned back to the sheik. “You will honor your pledge to step down if I win the confrontation,” he said pointedly.

  “My word is true.”

  Julian would have liked to debate that, but he nodded. “Which of your sons is my first challenger?”

  The elder tapped Julian on the shoulder, and the man found Heikki’s sword at this throat. “You will not lay a hand on the prince. Take up your spear, and move away.”

  Tassum gave the Badari general an arrogant smile. “I do not have to touch him to bury my spear in his belly. You do understand this fight is to the death, do you not?” He turned his gaze to the prince, as if hoping to see fear on Julian’s face—there was none.

  Julian nodded, a smile twisting his lips. “You speak boldly, but how good are you with the spear? The proof is in the deed, not the telling.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Egyptian desert

  The tribesmen made a wide circle, stretching all the way to the first sand dune. Most of Moussimi’s Badari were startled when Julian’s tribe rode down the dune, positioning their horses behind them.

  Stepping closer, Tassum met his father’s gaze and whispered so only he could hear, “I thought you said not many would come.”

  “I did not think so many would follow the son. But no matter. The outcome will be the same. Your arm is strong—you will win. End it quickly and go for the fast kill.”

  Julian retied his hair with a leather strip and turned to Sheik Moussimi. “Since the final challenge came from you, what are your rules?”

  Before the father could answer, Tassum jerked up a heavy shield and ran forward. Since Julian had his back to the man, he saw only a shadow and managed to swerve so nothing but the tip of the shield struck his left shoulder. Still, the heavy impact was such that it took him to the ground.

  Defiantly, Julian rolled to his feet and grabbed the spear and shield Heikki tossed to him.

  “Fool,” Tassum said, gathering his own spear. “There is only one rule in this contest—I win, and you die!”

  Julian looked into eyes that were cold and calculating, like Moussimi’s. “Tell me, are there not even the rules of sportsmanship?” he asked through clenched teeth. He remembered his father had once told him if he ever faced a larger opponent to use the man’s weight against him. He was prepared to do just that.

  “Just a battle to the death—your death,” Tassum replied, throwing his spear, only to have it deflected by Julian’s shield. Handed another spear, Tassum circled Julian. Each man looked for an opening. It only took Julian a moment to realize the big man was clumsy, so he rolled to the ground, kicking up at Tassum’s knees. The crack of bone was loud, and the big man bellowed.

  Now Tassum was angry, which was what Julian intended. His uncle Ashtyn had taught him that an angry opponent would always make mistakes. In a rage the big man came toward him, spear raised. Julian had underestimated the man’s quickness. With a quick thrust, Tassum’s spear pierced Julian’s arm, sinking deep. A gasp went up through the crowd as Julian pulled out the spear and tossed it aside. Pushing aside the pain that threatened to swamp him, Julian watched carefully as Tassum prepared to charge. When he saw the man lower his shield, Julian attacked. His spear flew true, striking Tassum in the heart. The big man fell like a tree, dead before he hit the ground.

  A murmur rose from Moussimi’s Badari, and the sheik ran to his son, dropping to his knees, cradling him in his arms.

  Julian knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on the sheik’s arm, but the elder man shook it off. “You have not won,” he snarled. “I still have another son.”

  “I beg of you,” Julian said, “do not continue with this vendetta. Allow the blood that has been spilled here today to settle the matter.”

  “Coward,” the sheik hissed. “You will feel the sting of my younger son’s arrow in your heart!”

  With a resigned si
gh, Julian stood, blood running down his arm. With a sweeping glance, he saw the anguish on the faces of Moussimi’s Badari—they had lost their future sheik. He also saw his own men, who were poised and ready to strike should those Badari choose to attack.

  Dizzy with pain, Julian turned his full attention to the younger son. “Are there any rules to your contest?”

  The young man lowered his head, but not before Julian saw the fear in his eyes. “We will be mounted on our horses, Great Prince.”

  Julian nodded to Heikki, who led his horse forward and handed him a quiver of arrows and a bow. Julian knew that whatever he did, he would try to spare this younger son’s life.

  The circled Badari spread out to allow the horses room to maneuver. Julian and Eanez stared at each other from a wide expanse. When Eanez charged forward, Julian kicked his own horse in the flanks. An arrow whizzed past his head, and another soon followed. Eanez was capable of firing with speed, but with little accuracy.

  With his horse in full gallop, Julian strung his bow, positioning an arrow against the bowstring. He whirled his horse around, using his knees to guide the animal. Taking careful aim, Julian fired his arrow, catching Eanez in the shoulder, just as he had intended. The young warrior dropped his bow and tumbled headfirst off his horse.

  Julian leaped off his horse before the animal stopped and went down on his knees. Taking a single arrow from his quiver, he placed the point at Eanez’s throat. He saw his opponent’s throat contract, and his eyes widen with fear. “Yield or die!”

  Eanez swallowed hard. “It is your right to take my life—the contest was to the death.”

  “I do not want your life. I want justice for your people.”

  Moussimi cried out to Julian while the blood of his elder son was already drying on his robe. “I had only the two sons. Will you not spare this one, Great Prince? Although he is worthless, allow him to live.”

  Julian stood, tossing his arrow to the ground. “This son of yours will live to give you grandchildren.”

  While Julian was watching the Badari so he could gauge their reaction, he did not see Moussimi creep up behind him. But every head jerked in Julian’s direction. Grabbing his dagger from the folds of his robe, Moussimi buried it deep into Julian’s shoulder.