Desert Prince Page 3

  Apollodorus shook his head. “Young prince, there is a time and a season for everything. A man must never rush into retaliation—a wise man waits … bides his time, and strikes when the moment is right.”

  Julian’s jaw tightened. “So we do nothing to avenge my aunt?”

  “At the moment, that would be my suggestion,” Apollodorus stated.

  “What will you do?” Ramtat asked the Sicilian who had served his queen so long and faithfully. Ramtat could only imagine the anger that seethed inside Cleopatra’s bodyguard.

  “If you have no objections, I will accompany you to Bal Forea. It seems to me your son is in great need of patience, and perhaps I can teach him that, while I keep an eye on my queen’s son as well.”

  Ramtat realized Apollodorus was doing what Queen Cleopatra would have expected of him. “I thank you. My hotheaded son is in dire need of your wise counsel. You have been a constant friend to us, and I would be honored if you would remain with us as long as you like.”

  Julian began pacing. “I care not for the notion of being driven from my home by the Romans. There is Mother’s villa in Alexandria that is managed by Uriah. Few people know of its existence. Why could I not remain there with Uriah, or even here in the desert?”

  Ramtat frowned. “Nay. I will not have your mother worried about you. You shall accompany us.”

  Apollodorus placed his hand on Julian’s shoulder. “To leave when you cannot win is not a bad thing. You will one day return. Live and train for that day, my impatient one.” Seeing the fire of rebellion in Julian’s eyes, Apollodorus nodded. “As a prince of the desert, you must learn forbearance.”

  “Father—”

  “It is decided, Julian. Speak no more of it.”

  Reluctantly, Julian nodded in agreement. It was not his father commanding him, but the high lord of the desert tribe, who must be obeyed by everyone, including his son.

  In that moment there was a chattering of voices, and Julian’s fourteen-year-old sister, Ayanna, and his young brother, Marcus, who had been named for Marc Antony, entered with their nurse trailing behind.

  “Say nothing to frighten the young ones,” Ramtat cautioned.

  Julian watched his brother and sister joyfully greet Apollodorus, unaware just how much their world was about to change. But blood ran hot and angry through his body. One day he would return to Egypt and take his rightful place. Until that day he would learn everything Apollodorus had to teach him.

  Ramtat drew in a deep breath and met Apollodorus’s gaze. “My mother must be brought here to safety. She must be told that I command it of her.”

  “I will go to her with your orders,” Apollodorus said, nodding. “I can sneak in and out of Alexandria without the Romans being the wiser.” His eyes took on a wistful look. “As I once helped my queen sneak into Caesar’s chambers when her brother’s troops guarded the palace against her.”

  “I shall go with Apollodorus,” Julian stated, all the while eyeing his father, expecting him to object.

  It was Ramtat’s inclination to refuse his son’s request, but Julian was on the verge of becoming a man, and should not be held back. “You will be safe with our friend here. Do exactly as he tells you.”

  Julian had been expecting an argument. His eyes widened, and he took his father’s offered hand. “I will do just as he instructs.”

  Ramtat noticed his wife stiffen, as if she might object. He held up his hand to silence her. “We must not stand in Julian’s way. He will be safe with Apollodorus.”

  She nodded reluctantly.

  “Have no fear, Mother. Like Apollodorus, I know well how to sneak in and out of Alexandria.”

  Danaë gripped both of Julian’s arms, wishing she could hold on to him and keep him safe, as she had done when he was small. Now he towered over her, his expression pleading with her to not embarrass him with his hero, Apollodorus, looking on. So she dropped her hands and stepped back. “If there is trouble, you must seek out Uriah,” was all she said.

  Uriah had been Danaë’s adopted father’s slave, whom Danaë had freed and placed in charge of all her property when she received her inheritance. Not only was Uriah a dear friend, but he had also been her tutor, and a mentor to her children. Danaë’s gaze went to the tall Sicilian. “Take care of him, Apollodorus,” she said, her voice quivering.

  He bowed to her. “With my life, Lady Danaë.”

  Julian stepped out of the tent and raised his face to the sun. Egypt was changing, but he would not change.

  Hearing the cry of a bird overhead, he watched his falcon circle above him. His mother was an animal trainer, who had a special affinity with big cats and birds of prey. She had helped him train his own falcon, De-oro, who would kill on command. He watched De-oro circle wide and dive toward the ground, probably in pursuit of some small rodent.

  Apollodorus appeared at his side. “We should leave now, young prince. There is need for haste.”

  “Allow me to cage De-oro, or she will attempt to follow me.”

  Ramtat stepped out of the tent, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Take our fastest horses and go the quickest way. I have great fear for my mother’s safety.”

  The sun was well past its zenith when the two riders galloped away from the encampment.

  Neither spoke—they knew what dangers awaited them when they reached Alexandria.

  When the walls of the city were in sight, they dismounted and mingled with an Armenian caravan.

  Leading their horses past the Roman guards, the two of them entered the city with no one being the wiser.

  Chapter Three

  Alexandria, largest and most magnificent city of the world, was being stripped of her greatness. Egyptians were forced to watch as the Roman conquerors removed treasures from the temples and palaces of their dead queen to ship to Rome. Great stores of grain and foodstuffs were loaded onto ships to feed the insatiable armies of Rome. Those who opposed the invaders, and there were many at first, did not live to make another attempt.

  As young Sabinah watched these atrocities, she feared for her people, who would have scant food to see them through until the next rainy season when the Nile would flood its banks, replenishing the farmlands. Though no doubt the Roman invaders would take that food, too.

  Surprisingly, Sabinah’s family, which had been destitute since her father’s death four years before, had begun to prosper under Roman rule. Her lip curled in distaste as she thought of how her stepmother was ingratiating herself with the Roman officers by offering them the hospitality of her home. Roman men flocked to her stepmother’s banquets since her villa was one of the few places in Egypt they found a welcome.

  Lately Sabinah found herself being shunned by old friends and neighbors, even though she took no part in entertaining their enemies.

  There had been a time when the Jannah family had been respected and moved in society above her father’s station because Sabinah’s mother had been a friend of the Tausrats. After her father had married her stepmother, Trisella, Alexandrian society no longer accepted them, though the Tausrats continued to show them favor, and Julian often visited their home whenever he was in Alexandria. Sabinah knew in her heart he only came to see her stepsister.

  Sabinah sighed. Bastet, with her stunning beauty, had of late turned her feminine skills to charming Romans. So far, Sabinah had managed to avoid the feasts the Romans attended.

  “You should have remained at home. The mistress mentioned she wanted you to help her with her potions,” Ma’dou chided Sabinah.

  “Aye. She will be angry with me for leaving. But I do not care for the art of herbs and spices.”

  “It is not a bad thing to know. The mistress has many women coming to her for potions.”

  Sabinah shrugged, gazing up at the clouds that hung low across the sea, turning the oppressive heat into unbearable humidity. To escape Bastet’s constant chattering about her conquests, and her stepmother’s lessons on healing herbs, Sabinah had accompanied Ma’dou to the mar
ket. When the dour-faced cook smiled, her lips were so thin they gave the impression that she was frowning. Short and squatty, poor Ma’dou actually waddled when she walked.

  Six Amalekite traders led their camels down the street while a caravan of donkeys laden with papyrus stalks passed by. Three ragged children ran after Sabinah, hands open, begging for a coin. “Does it seem to you there are more urchins begging for alms than when Queen Cleopatra ruled Egypt?” she asked her companion.

  “Aye. Rome has made paupers of us all,” Ma’dou sniffed.

  Sabinah reached into her sash, handing each child a copper. They quickly snatched the coins and darted away, disappearing from view. Sabinah was about to step onto the brick street, but paused in midstride as a column of Roman soldiers rode in her direction. She watched in horror as the Romans made no attempt to slow their pace even though old Fana, a deaf woman who sold garlic in a nearby stall, hobbled down the street, unmindful of the danger approaching her from behind. Someone called out a warning, but old Fana could not hear. Sabinah, who was too far away to help the woman, feared she would be crushed by flying hooves.

  Just as it seemed there was no hope for the old woman, a bedouin tribesman leaped from the crowd, jerking her to safety. Old Fana pushed him away and adjusted her robe, angling her footsteps past the fishmonger’s stall as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  “Aiee, aiee,” Ma’dou lamented, waving her plump hands in distress. “The Romans are a scourge upon this land.”

  “It seems my stepmother does not share your opinion,” Sabinah stated with rancor as she watched the Roman column continue to advance in her direction.

  “Hmmph, consorting with the enemy,” Ma’dou said, her face paling before she glanced away quickly, as if she had said too much.

  “You can always speak the truth to me,” Sabinah told her, patting Ma’dou’s hand. “As you well know, I share your sentiment. It is a bitter thing to encounter the enemy in my own home. My father would not have allowed it had he lived.” Sabinah felt her face flush with anger. “Why do not the people rebel against them?” she asked, swirling around to the people in the stalls. “Why do you allow the Romans to treat you with such disrespect?”

  A potter, seated at his workbench, dipped his fingers in water, then began forming clay into a rounded shape. He blinked at her, then looked away quickly. None of the others paid her the slightest heed—they were too frightened.

  “If we all banded together, we could help each other,” she said in a quieter voice, even though she knew it would be impossible for a group of merchants to have any effect on the Roman army.

  “It might be possible, if they had your courage, little mistress.” Ma’dou moved toward the fruit vendor, calling over her shoulder. “But you must not speak so, lest your words reach the wrong ears.”

  “It is a pity we all act like cowering animals when the Romans are about,” she whispered.

  Ma’dou shook her head. “Do not wander far. I want to get back home as soon as possible.”

  With a determined glare, Sabinah stepped into the roadway, refusing to give way to the Romans who approached her on horseback. Clamping her mouth in anger, she watched them draw nearer, too furious to be afraid, although the horsemen showed no sign of slowing their pace.

  Sabinah was startled when a strong hand gripped her shoulder and yanked her out of the road. Turning to her rescuer in anger, she realized it was the same man who had saved the old deaf woman.

  He wore the plain homespun robe of an Amalekite trader. Despite the heat, he also wore a hooded cape. “Have you no sense, foolish one? Romans do not stop for stubborn little girls.”

  She heard the anger in the man’s voice, and it served to heighten her own fury. “I did not ask you to help me,” she said, pushing his hand away from her arm. But when she would have stepped away from him, she caught sight of piercing green eyes.

  He was no Amalekite.

  She knew of no one but the prince of the Badari who had that particular color of eyes.

  Trembling, she could hardly catch her breath. “Lord Julian?”

  Frowning, he quickly pulled the hood lower on his forehead. “Shh,” he cautioned. “It is not safe to speak my name.”

  Sabinah’s throat contracted as Julian stared at her. In the past he had often visited her home with the purpose of courting Bastet. For a time, her stepmother had hoped Julian would ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage. Certainly Bastet, whose beauty made up for her lack of social standing, had used every feminine trick she could manage to ensnare him. Who could say whether she would have succeeded if the Romans had not invaded Egypt and placed a death sentence on anyone related to Queen Cleopatra?

  Julian smiled. “Can it be my Little Sunshine?” he asked, using the pet name he had pinned on her years before. “How fares your family?”

  It took her a moment to find her voice. “We fare well—better than some.”

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  Suddenly Sabinah’s heart quickened with fear. “You should not be here. It is too dangerous for you to be seen.”

  “Unless you give me away, the Romans will not know who I am.”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I would never betray you. Not if they inflicted a thousand cuts on my body.”

  Julian’s lips settled into a smile. “I believe you, Sunshine.”

  She gripped the front of his robe in desperation. “Please, you must leave Alexandria at once. I have heard Octavian has put a high price on your head.”

  “I have no fear of him.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice as his gaze moved over her face. “Have the Romans been a bother to you or your family?”

  “Unfortunately they are regular visitors at our house,” she said bitterly.

  Julian had never cared much for Bastet’s mother, and he was not surprised she was on friendly terms with the enemy. “Have a care, little one. Keep away from them if you can,” he warned.

  “I am not afraid of them!”

  He smiled. “You are young and may not understand the dangers.”

  She was pleased that he cared about her safety. Why could she never think of anything clever to say to him? If only she had worn her new blue gown instead of the unadorned brown linen. “You are the one who faces danger,” she said, glancing about to see if anyone was watching him with suspicion. It seemed everyone was staring at the retreating Romans and took no notice of the man they thought to be a foreign trader.

  Julian laughed softly. “Fear not for me. Not everyone has your sharp eyes.”

  “It is easy for me to recognize you. I have known you all my life.”

  “It is fortunate for me that we met, Sunshine. I would ask a favor of you.”

  “Anything,” she said with feeling.

  “Deliver this message to Bastet for me. Say to her that I shall be just outside the garden walls of your house the fourth hour after sunset. Ask her if she will meet me there. But tell no one else.”

  Sabinah felt as if her heart had been crushed. All he wanted of her was to carry a message to Bastet. How could she tell him that Bastet was interested in one of the Roman officers? She was even afraid her stepsister might turn Julian over to the Romans for the reward. Before she could think of a way to warn him, Julian had turned away and was soon swallowed up in the crowded marketplace.

  Ma’dou appeared at Sabinah’s side. “Who was that?”

  “Just someone asking directions,” she answered, the lie coming easily to her lips. Now she had another secret to guard. No one must know that Ptolemy Caesarion had escaped death, or that Lord Julian Tausrat was in Alexandria.

  “You should not speak to such a person. The mistress would not approve.”

  Sabinah still watched the spot where Julian had disappeared, wishing she was beautiful like Bastet, or even pretty, for that matter. Then perhaps Lord Julian would look at her the way he had always looked at her stepsister. “There is no reason to mention the incident to my stepmother, is th
ere?”

  “Nay. I will not.”

  Shortly after Sabinah’s mother had died, her father had married Trisella, taking the woman’s five-year-old daughter as his own. It was whispered that Trisella had once been a servant in the Jannah household. Whether that was true or not, Sabinah did not know because the servants were too frightened to speak of it.

  Bastet easily caught the attention of every man who saw her; Sabinah was considered the plain one, a fact that her stepmother often pointed out to her. Unlike Bastet, who had beautiful ebony hair, Sabinah had inherited her dead mother’s red hair, which was unmanageable and curled in a profusion of tangles about her thin face.

  Sabinah sighed. Her legs were long and gangly, and she had the shape of a young lad. No amount of wishing would make her curvaceous like her stepsister. Her brown eyes were her best feature, and she did have long lashes, but that did not make her pretty.

  Shaking her head, Sabinah silently walked beside Ma’dou, her thoughts on Julian. Could she trust Bastet not to betray him? Perhaps her stepsister secretly loved Julian. What woman would not? He was a prince of the Badari, and so handsome Sabinah could stare at him for hours.

  She glanced up at the sky, watching dark clouds gather over the sea, and the sight dampened her spirits even more.

  “Hurry along, young mistress, before it starts to rain.”

  As they headed home, Sabinah glanced up at the cook. “Do you think I will ever be pretty?”

  Ma’dou looked taken aback. “How can that be important?”

  “It is to me. Why do I have to be so plain?”

  “Hmmph. Your stepsister may have the looks, but you are the smart one. You will do better in the long run. You just see if I am not right.”

  Sabinah shook her head, that was not what she wanted to hear. “Lord Julian does not even notice I am a female. If I had but one wish, it would be that he would love me.”

  The servant stopped in her tracks. “Young one, what a fanciful notion! Of course he will not love you! He is from a great and noble family. While your mother was of a good family, and your father was respected as a master goldsmith, you are not of high enough birth to be considered by the Tausrat family.”