The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt) Page 16

  Beyond that the landscape spread out before her. Mountains peaked in the distance, the sand stretched out as smooth as silken rivulets. The moon was bright and full, and the stars twinkled like jewels in the sky. From the top of this outpost, it felt like she was in the sky, swept up in the wind. She didn’t know if she swooned, but she felt Alistair come up behind her and put his arms around her, holding her to him and anchoring her to the ground.

  “It is the most beautiful...” She had no words to describe it.

  “I had this structure built so I could have this private place that was my own on hot summer nights—a place to go and think and be alone. But I no longer want it to be my own, I want it to be ours.” He kissed her hair and then her neck.

  She turned in his arms. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It is incredible.”

  He led her to the pallet he had made for them and he pulled her to sit next to him. They leaned back to lie down, reclining on pillows. Her breath caught as she lost herself in the sea of stars above her, all around her.

  They lay in silence for several moments, enjoying the peace of their solitude in the presence of each other.

  “Did you learn about the stars in your studies?” Alistair asked.

  She nodded and pointed out to him the great bear and the hunter and the few star shapes she knew.

  He pointed out a few more and told her the stories behind each shape. One particular picture he took extra care to tell her about. The shape was built around six stars forming a torso of a person.

  “This is one that my grandfather showed me. It is Diana. Diana was a beautiful Grecian maiden. I’m sure she had long, dark, flowing hair, deep fathomless eyes, and skin as smooth and fine as porcelain.” He smiled down at her. “Sound familiar?”

  She realized he was describing her and gave him a silly look. “Sounds like my mother,” she shot back at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, then, I must make sure to meet this Grecian beauty. Certainly if she’s half as lovely as her daughter.”

  “Um-hmm.” She smiled at him. “So, Diana was a beautiful Grecian maiden...”

  “Yes, and she fell deeply in love with Achius, a man who served the great army of Greece. There was a particular battle that he went off to fight and when the men returned, he was not with them. Her heart was heavy with grief, not able to imagine living another day without him. She pled with the gods to allow her to join her love, to be with him again. So sincere was her plea and so pure her heart and her love for him that the gods took pity on her and honored her request. They placed her in the heavens.” He drew the outline of the figure in the sky. “She is with her Achius and the gods saw fit to allow her to shine down on lovers who are separated by distance and circumstance.”

  “That is a wonderful story.” She put her free hand over their intertwined fingers.

  Alistair rolled over onto his side, leaning over her with his arm on the pillows behind her head and his other hand lacing fingers with her hand resting on her stomach. He glanced down at his wife, so moved by the night sky above her. She shifted to look at him.

  “Ismene, my love,” he started.

  “Yes?” She breathed the word.

  “You know that I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone.”

  Smiling at him as a tear fell from her eyes, she said, “And I love you, Alistair.”

  He loved the way his name sounded, spilling like precious jewels from those sweet lips. “You can’t even imagine how much I wish that I could give you some assurance that there will never be a night like this or a time when we are parted. You are right—it is a reality of my station before Pharaoh. I am at his mercy and at the command of his will.”

  She nodded in sad understanding.

  He lifted her hands up to his mouth to plant a firm kiss on each of them. “But I can assure you, my love, that when we are apart, I will be looking up at Diana in the stars, knowing that she is looking down on you and hoping that you are looking up at her as well.”

  She offered him a slow smile. That thought comforted her. Though they may be separated by distance, they would be able to find each other in the stars. Pulling his hand down, she mirrored his gesture by pressing a kiss to his palm.

  He moved his hand to cup her face and brushed her lips with his before wrapping his arms around her. She found rest there, in the refuge of her husband’s embrace. And she slept, releasing all of the worry and concern of her day, exchanging it for the security of his love for her.

  Ten

  A Moment of Truth

  Their chariot once again bore Alistair and Ismene toward Pharaoh Ptolemy's palace. Ismene could not contain herself. The long awaited welcoming celebration had come. It was here at long last! Pharaoh had announced a banquet to welcome the Greek families that had moved to Alexandria a couple of weeks ago. The party would include all of the new Greek families, of course, as well as the Egyptian nobility. Ismene had been excited to be among such a contingency of her countrymen and, as always, looked forward to hearing her native tongue spoken fluently for an evening. Her studies in Egyptian language were going well, but it was always a pleasure to have interactions with multiple people who did not require her to rely on her new, still-limited skills.

  Alistair had told her about this banquet too far in advance, she had decided. She had counted the days and waited with much anticipation for far too long. To what Ismene owed this privilege, she didn't know. Why these politicians had decided to make such a long trip to Egypt, uprooting their families and transplanting them, was unclear to her. Alistair had been quiet on the subject, and Ismene didn't spend much time concerning herself with it. She had been far too excited.

  They arrived early and in style. Ismene hadn't let Alonah paint her with kohl this evening. No, she would be going as the Greek she was. Oh, she was still in the more practical Egyptian clothing, but that was all that spoke of her new life. Her hair, her face, everything else read Greek. Ismene soon discovered that she was in good company. Most of the Greek women were similarly attired as she, but lacked the painted face.

  The party started off well enough. Ismene made small talk with the women she had met at the luncheon held by the queen and introduced them to Alistair. In turn, she enjoyed being introduced to their husbands.

  As the evening dragged on and she became party to more conversations with these men and women, new arrivals to Egypt, her excitement faded to disillusionment. She had never realized how prejudiced her countrymen could be. The harsher comments, she noted, came from the men for the most part. These men were rather similar to her father’s friends and acquaintances in his work, as well as in his day-to-day life. Did her father share these opinions?

  Often in these conversations, she would steal a glance at her husband to catch his reaction. He remained quite distracted by the duty of entertaining and translating for both sides. They had escaped into many Greek conversations only to be confronted with stereotypes and ethnocentrism.

  Alistair had long since noticed Ismene’s uneasiness as she shifted beside him. Turning, he watched her features. She was attempting to mask her disgruntled feelings and appear to be interested in whatever was being said. How had she not been more prepared for these politicians? Was she so naive about her countrymen? She had been only a child when she frequented these types of functions in their homeland, ignorant of these opinions and people that were being degraded. Had she, too, at one time held to this same way of thinking to some extent?

  Feeling Alistair's eyes on her, she turned her attention toward him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, taking her hand.

  “Yes,” she replied, not in Greek but in Egyptian.

  That seemed to surprise him. They had been using their native tongue as they were, at the moment, surrounded by Greeks. She most often spoke her own tongue any and every chance she got, for certain with him. Her experience with the Egyptian language was still quite limited.

  “I need some fresh air,” she con
tinued, still in Egyptian. “I’m feeling a little closed in.”

  He nodded, squeezing her hand as he stood. She followed suit.

  “Gentlemen, if you will excuse us. I would like to take my wife for a walk among the gardens. She admires them so.”

  He set her hand on his arm, but she pressed into it to halt him.

  “I do not wish to pull you away. Please stay, I’ll find Alonah or Neterka to walk with me,” she insisted.

  “Are you certain?” His eyes searched hers to ensure that she was fine.

  “Yes,” she said, offering him a smile she didn't quite feel. She knew what he was concerned about—her fearfulness of a recurrence of what happened before. However, he had been sure to check on Meleager's whereabouts. The prince was halfway across Egypt and, therefore, neither at this party nor in the palace. Alistair had since communicated that Meleager had apologized at Pharaoh's behest. Apparently, Pharaoh believed, or wanted to believe, that the whole matter was a terrible mistake born of too much wine, and that his brother was mortified at what he had done. Alistair still did not trust the man.

  “I shall check on you later.” He kissed the side of her face and she took her leave of the group.

  Glancing around for Alonah and Neterka in the servant's area, she saw neither. Rather than return to the party, she decided to venture out to the balcony on her own.

  She stood on the terrace overlooking the gardens for a few moments, taking in some deep breaths. The responses of her countrymen confused her and she sensed that they aggravated her husband. Alistair had a great deal of respect for Ptolemy and his ideals. She knew that Egypt had staked its claim on Alistair’s heart.

  To her dismay, she realized that these ignorant statements came from an attitude that she had, in fact, at one time shared—an attitude of superiority. It had taken her time to discover that Egypt and its people were beautiful and wondrous in their own way. Difference did not equate inferiority. Why would these men refuse to see that?

  She should seek out Neterka or Alonah rather than venture outside of the palace alone, but the thought of someone trailing her did not appeal to her. The quiet, thoughtful solitude that a stroll alone in the gardens would offer was what she truly wanted. And, she reasoned, the only real threat to her was miles away.

  Her mind made up, she slipped down the stairs, finding her way out into the lush gardens. The path gave way to a somewhat winding maze that showcased many types of plant life, from flowers to hanging trees. She enjoyed the stillness of these living things in the night, moved only by the wind. A light breeze seemed to sing to her and carry away all of the serious and heavy thoughts of the conversations she had just witnessed. Instead, she concentrated on how bright the moon and stars shone through the clear night sky. Scanning the starry blanket, she spotted Diana.

  Sighing deeply, she took in another breath, allowing the aroma of the flowers around her to intoxicate her senses. She continued her wanderings. As she passed a taller hedge, rough hands reached out and grabbed her, forcing her back against the bushes, arms pinned.

  In the moonlight, she attempted to make out the features of her attacker. She found herself staring into two familiar brown eyes. Her mouth opened, unable even to form his name. Thinking it an invitation, his mouth covered hers.

  Ismene’s immediate reaction was to melt to him as she had so many times before. That comfort only lasted mere seconds before her mind overcame her senses. Alistair’s face was in her mind’s eye and that image made these rather familiar arms seem foreign.

  She pulled back from his kiss.

  “Thelopolis.” She breathed, gasping for air.

  “Yes, my love, ‘tis I!”

  “What? How?” she stammered for some grasp on reality. This was all a dream!

  His hand reached out to caress her face. “Ismene, I have missed you terribly.”

  She gazed up into his caramel-colored eyes that had always held such comfort, such stability for her. “I have missed you, too.”

  He tried to pull her into his arms again. “How I have longed to hold you again. Only you make me whole, my love, my Ismene.”

  To her credit, she maintained her wits enough to resist him, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from pulling her against him again for another kiss.

  “Thelopolis, you know that I am married, that I belong to another.”

  “You are wrong, Ismene. You are wed to another, but you love me. You belong to me. That's why I have come all this way. Forgive me, my love, I was so stupid. I never should have allowed you to be taken away from me. We should have run away. I didn't fight hard enough. But I am here now and we're together. Don't you see? I couldn't stay away, no matter how hard I tried. I moved heaven and earth to come for you. I had to come for you. We are soul mates.”

  She was moved by his words, pulled back into the past, into a place where she truly believed that, so she forgot the present for one moment and allowed him to pull her close and press his lips to hers.

  * * *

  Alistair's eyes darkened before he turned away, unable to endure any more. True to his word, he had left the party to come and check on his wife. Not finding her on the balcony, he had started to worry, but thought he spotted her in the gardens below. The sight that greeted him caught him completely off guard. Anger and hurt fought for dominance and his eyes stung with tears that would never be permitted as he retreated.

  * * *

  Ismene pulled away from Thelopolis. How had she let this go so far? She found herself perplexed. She had felt nothing in that kiss—no reaffirmation of love, no fulfillment of longing—the things she always feared she would feel if faced with this situation. The only thing she felt was a strong sense of betrayal to Alistair and an ache for his embrace. That's when she knew without a doubt that her romance with Thelopolis had been adolescent love and was nothing compared to what she shared with Alistair.

  Thelopolis was looking at her with a question in his eyes.

  “No, Thelopolis, we are not soul mates. And I no longer belong to you. I belong to my husband. Please understand that a part of me will always love you. But Alistair is my true love, my future.”

  There was hurt and disbelief in his eyes. “What has he done to you, my Ismene?” He reached out to touch her hair.

  “No!” She pulled away. “This cannot be! Never again. I am sorry that you have come all this way. And I am sorry I cannot give you the answer you want.”

  Thelopolis's arms fell by his side. “So am I.”

  “You will always be a part of me,” she said with tenderness in her voice.

  He nodded, his eyes sad as he turned his face toward the ground.

  “But this is where our paths must diverge.” She attempted to be firm, though she knew her voice was shaking.

  He nodded again. But did he truly understand?

  She wanted to lean into his embrace once more, to press a platonic kiss on the side of his face. However, that would not serve either of them. While she would miss her friend, she had to do what was right for them both. A thick silence hung between them.

  “I must get back to my husband,” she said at last, needing to walk away, but hating the pain she saw in his eyes. Part of her wanted to stay, to find some way to make things better for him, but she knew that nothing but time would heal it. They were at an impasse. She was set on her path toward Alistair, and Thelopolis would struggle through the many emotions she could see in his face: rejection, hurt, emptiness, some anger, and uncertainty, his plans for his future ruined.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. There was nothing more to say. She turned and moved away from him, knowing all he could do was watch her walk out of his life for the second time.

  * * *

  When Ismene returned to the palace, she felt numb. She had a difficult time getting a grasp on what had just happened. And the implications. What was she going to tell Alistair? He needed to know. Now was not the time. Pushing her thoughts of Thelopolis to the side, she set abou
t trying to find her husband.

  She had a difficult time tracking down Alistair. When at last she did spot him, he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. Or was he just that deep in conversation with Dmitri? Deciding the latter must be true, she went over to join in.

  “...of course the chariot racing may be conducted in a different way here, it is a nice sport to view,” Alistair was finishing his sentence as Ismene entered their sphere.

  “Ah, Lady Ismene, my wife is hoping you will escort her around the marketplace, show her the best places to buy the best things,” Dmitri said.

  “It would be my pleasure.” She smiled, linking arms with Alistair, wanting to take what strength she could from him. “It won't take long before she is navigating the market quite easily herself, I assure you.”

  “Should I be worried, General?” he joked.

  Alistair's eyes were on Ismene, but they seemed to be looking through her, not at her. “Hm? Oh, no. Ismene will be an excellent guide, I am sure. If you'll excuse me, there is something I needed to speak with Captain Ptah about.” He extricated himself from Ismene and moved off.

  “Of course,” Dmitri said, seeming a bit confused by Alistair's response and behavior. “Is he well?” he asked Ismene.

  “He gets so distracted by the affairs of his station. Something is on his mind and he is off to tend to it. I have gotten used to it,” she lied.

  “Ah! Well, now, I understand that you, yourself, are a new transplant to Egypt...”

  The remainder of the evening went like that. If Ismene did catch up to Alistair and his current conversation, he would soon excuse himself. It was not like him and she was becoming concerned that something was wrong. He seemed to be avoiding her, practically running away from her. Had she said something wrong? Or was there that much of a guilty look on her face?