Song of the Nile (14 page)

“What of your women?” I asked, drinking from a tisane of mint leaves steeped in hot water. The infusion was refreshing and I called for another cup.

“You’ve met Tala, haven’t you? She’s one of my many sisters and always free to speak her mind.”

Sweet Isis!
The proud servant who’d been unafraid to show her disdain for me was the chieftain’s sister? She hadn’t mentioned it and now I was glad I hadn’t sent her away. “She’s with child. Does she have a husband?”

Maysar’s brilliant smile faded. “My sister Tala is a widow. Her husband was killed in a raid by the Garamantes.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” I said, and I was. No wonder Tala was so unpleasant; she’d suffered a terrible loss.

“Berber women of her status seldom serve,” Maysar explained. “It is only because she’s so heavily pregnant that I’d rather have her here in the city than helping to shepherd our tribe. With us, the women are the spiritual leaders. Some tribes keep their women cloistered. In others, women fight with the men or become craftswomen and magicians.”

It was the word
magician
that caught my attention. I was about to ask him about it, when a young messenger burst into the room. Juba leaned close to the newcomer. After a few whispers my new husband rose from his table. He uttered some vague words of apology before retiring. Then his advisers all followed him out of the hall.

OUR first official dinner in Mauretania had come to an abrupt end and now, behind closed doors, something important was happening. Something I should be privy to. Shut out, I paced, hearing voices but unable to make out words. Balbus was loud and aggressive. Juba maintained a measured tenor. If only I knew what they were saying!

Coming upon me in the dingy corridor, Crinagoras made a sweeping bow that involved much dramatic waving of fingers. “Majesty, it’s fortunate I was there to entertain the desert chieftains, but even a man of my talents can’t make them stay when their monarchs flee the room.”

“Of course,” I murmured, only at half attention, straining to hear the men in the room beyond.

“Will you go in?” Crinagoras asked, glancing at the unguarded doors.

A bitter taste filled my mouth. “They shut the doors in my face. I wasn’t invited.”

Crinagoras shot me a sideways glance. “Why should you be? You’re only the wife of the king. A veritable child-bride at that. A girl with no experience of the world and no concerns beyond cosmetics and hairpins and expensive jewels.”

“You taunt me,” I said crossly.

A grin split his face. “I knew you’d be clever enough to deduce as much. You must have also gathered that I’m only repeating words spoken by the men behind those doors. Majesty, have I ever mentioned that the first line of a poem is the most important? The first words, nay, the first
word
, the first
sound
as it rolls off the tongue, is crucial. It sets the tone for the whole piece.”

He wasn’t talking about poetry, and though I didn’t care for his irreverent manner, he was right; if I didn’t establish my place now, I might always be excluded. Without another word, I pushed the doors open to find Juba drumming his fingers upon a polished citrus-wood table. Balbus sat near him, alongside a number of Roman military officers and a few Greek diplomats. They were all big men, many of them warriors, and I forced myself to brave their irritated stares. “What news, gentlemen?”

Juba glanced up, clutching some missive in his right hand. “Go to bed, Selene. We’ll talk in the morning.”

My spine stiffened. “If the business of Mauretania must be conducted at this hour, I’ll stay awake to hear it.”

“Heed your king,” Balbus snapped at me. “This is no place for a girl.”

“But I’m not a girl.” I took a steadying breath. “I’m the queen and you must accustom yourself to my presence.”

Someone murmured something about how I was truly my mother’s daughter. Then the room went silent. I made no move to leave. Seeing he wouldn’t dissuade me, Juba finally waved a hand in surrender. One of Agrippa’s engineers stood to make a place for me, and when I was seated, Juba said, “Selene, the revolt in Thebes has been put down. The Prefect of Egypt has crushed the rebellion.”

It was with great difficulty that I didn’t lurch forward. “When?” My voice was a rushed, shaky whisper.

The young courier cleared his throat. “Weeks ago, Majesty. A missive was sent to Rome, but it must have passed you on the sea. I came over land but was delayed for some time by the Garamantes in Numidia and was unable to carry this message until ransomed by superior officers.”

The poor courier had been taken captive trying to get this message to us. A gracious queen would have asked after his well-being, but I was too stunned. What had I been doing the day the rebellion in Thebes was put down? While Egyptians were fighting Romans, had I been playing the
kithara
for the emperor? Had I been choosing gowns for my wedding chest? It seemed impossible that I might not have felt the clash of armies in my body the way I felt the words of Isis in my blood and pain. “And what of Alexander Helios, Prince of Egypt? Is there news? Has he been captured?”

The uncomfortable silence that blanketed the room told me that this question had already been asked. The courier shook his head and all eyes turned to Juba, including mine. The king’s gaze fell to the scroll in his hand, and he swallowed. “Selene, there are reports that Helios was seen wielding a sword in battle. Gallus writes that they’re still sorting the dead but that your brother will be found amongst the corpses.”

Nine

I went limp. Then every part of me trembled. I should have cried out. I should have screamed. I should have felt the blackness of grief close its bony hand around my throat. But if Helios were dead, wouldn’t I know it? He was blood of my blood, bone of my bone, my companion in this life and all the others. If he were dead, the sun itself would go dark in the sky. My heart couldn’t possibly pulse with life without the answering echo of Helios’s heart somewhere in the world. I knew this. I
knew
this as surely as I knew the sound of my own voice. “How can they still be sorting the dead?”

Juba sat back, his shoulders slumped, regret in his voice. “Because Thebes has been destroyed.”

I couldn’t make sense of this. Thebes—the city that had once been the capital of both Upper and Lower Egypt—destroyed? Thebes had been great before Alexander set foot on Egyptian sands. And the Romans had destroyed it? I tasted sand, envisioned toppled towers, and smelled the smoke as Thebes burned. I quaked at this madness. “What have you Romans done?”

Most of the men stared blankly, keeping the stiff professional disinterest of the Roman soldier, but some cringed. Perhaps they’d heard the whispers that I was a sorceress who held crocodiles in my thrall. Maybe they were afraid of me. Maybe they
should
have been afraid because I felt a terrible rage and a gust of dry wind howled through the old building, rattling the doors.

“Gods be good, let’s hope it’s not the sirocco,” someone said. I didn’t see who.

Juba seemed to sense danger. “We’ll retire for the night. My queen needs time to grieve her brother’s death.”

His words sent me into a wilder fury. Helios wasn’t dead and Juba couldn’t simply say it and make it so. My twin couldn’t be dead. Not after everything I’d endured to save him. If anything, I felt him nearer to me now than in all the months since he ran away. I should have been with Helios. Together, perhaps we could have saved Thebes. What was I doing here while officials sorted the dead in Egypt? My mother’s Egypt. I rose from my seat and another blast of wind rattled the house.

“You’re dismissed,” Juba said to the men. “Go!” They scattered into the hall, leaving Juba and me alone. “Selene, I’ll send word to the Prefect of Egypt and tell him not to burn the body. You can build Helios a tomb in the custom of your people . . .”

He meant well by it—I know he did—but I lashed out anyway. “Don’t pretend you care. Helios isn’t dead. If he was, certainly the prefect would have recovered his body. One day, Helios will rule Egypt. It’s his destiny.”

“No, Selene.” Juba made me look at him and compassion colored his features. “Trust me, Helios is dead. If not in Thebes, then somewhere else. Augustus had a thousand agents seeking him out, and I can well imagine their orders. Do you think the Prefect of Egypt would have razed Thebes on his own initiative?”

I shook my head violently. “No, that wasn’t the emperor’s plan. He sent me with you to—”

“To get you out of the way. You were a dangerous girl to have in Rome where Isis worshippers invoked you as their champion. A dangerous girl to have in the East where your parents still have allies and friends. A daughter of Antony was too dangerous to keep in Rome, a daughter of Cleopatra too dangerous in the East. So he sent you here, to Mauretania, to the other side of the world.”

Distraught, I brought my hands up to my face and Juba’s hard expression crumbled, as if he regretted saying these things to me. Tears spilled over my lashes. “I don’t understand. The emperor promised mercy for Egypt. Mercy for Helios. The emperor promised me. He gave me his vow.”

Juba reached for my chin, cupping it tenderly. “Oh, my poor Selene, you actually thought you could save him.”

The pity in his voice was horrible. Unendurable. I broke away, fleeing the room. Somehow the news had already reached Chryssa. On her knees in my chamber, she was sobbing. Her cries echoed in my ears from somewhere very far away. “Stop it. Helios lives! I know it. I know he lives still.”

Chryssa rocked herself and made a keening sound. “How can it be? I know the stories of Carthage. When Romans destroy a city, they kill every warrior, they put every building to the torch, and they salt the fields.”

She’d been my brother’s slave before she was mine. She’d loved him. Worshipped him. I found myself sinking down beside her, to offer her comfort. “It’s true that the Romans are destroyers, but they’re also
liars
. If Helios is dead, then why do I sense him here in Mauretania? Why is it that every time I turn a corner, I feel as if he’ll be there?”

“Because you’re one soul!” Chryssa wept, clasping my hands. “Now that his body breathes no more, the rest of his spirit must have come here to rejoin with yours.”

THE winds blew that night and into the next morning, snapping sail lines, jostling fishing boats in the harbor, and sending sprays of water into the air. It was a stiff wind that roared hour after hour, carrying with it a dry and oppressive heat. The Romans saw it as a bad omen, more portentous than lightning or the entrails of the sacrificial beasts.
It bodes ill for our mission here
, some said, and wondered which ancient god we’d offended. Meanwhile, Berbers wondered if this storm had been sent to drive us away.

Outside, servants braved the scouring winds to haul fresh water from the well, dragging huge clay jugs into the house as if preparing for a long siege. The ladies in my chamber busied themselves closing shutters, pulling dusty tapestries from the walls and fitting them around the windows. I sat in the center of this whirlwind, hands tight on the arms of my chair. I was thinking. Turning this puzzle over and over. Had I been sent to Mauretania only because I was too dangerous to keep in Rome? I remembered the men Augustus killed on our way to Ostia. Had they come to see me? I’d thought to help Egypt with my newfound power as a queen confirmed by Rome, but perhaps I’d merely been sent into exile.

Though the howling winds buffeted us with hot air, my fingers were cold. My toes, my ears, my nose all ice. I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t slept. I was scarcely aware of Juba’s presence until he grabbed the arms of my chair, demanding, “Is this storm your doing?”

The blue-tinted Berber woman tried to explain, “It’s the sirocco. First come winds, then sands from the Sahara—”

“Leave!” Juba cut her off as he’d seen my magic before and she hadn’t. But I didn’t care if he shouted and I didn’t care if the winds blew. I didn’t believe that Helios was dead. Still, at war with my heart was my reason. A dark, terrible, stormy reason that swept everything from my mind. What if Chryssa was right, and Helios’s spirit was here, right here in this room with me, waiting for me to breathe for the both of us when I couldn’t seem to breathe at all . . .

“Selene,” Juba said, stooping in front of me. “Are you making these winds blow?”

I felt for the little frog amulet at my throat. It wasn’t warm. I didn’t feel
heka
flow through me. I felt drained. I felt
nothing
. A strange sound, almost like a laugh, escaped me. “I don’t know.”

Juba rocked back on his heels. “How can you not know?”

“In a world without Helios, how can I know anything?”

He cursed in Latin, pushed to his feet, then ran both hands through his hair. “I know we’ve been angry with each other. I know that this hasn’t started well, none of it. Still, I wouldn’t see you in such pain. Tell me what I can do to help.”

Outside, the wind continued to howl, gusts of sand scrubbing buildings as it passed. I wanted to go out into it; maybe I’d finally get clean. “Let me go into sanctuary.”

Juba was aghast. “I’m not sending you into a storm to stay by yourself in some primitive cave.”

I tried to adopt a reasonable tone. “What do you think our new subjects will read into a storm arriving just as we take our places as king and queen? At least, if we follow their customs and the winds stop, they may think we bring them fortune instead of doom.”

Juba couldn’t argue or perhaps he simply didn’t know what else to do with me. “Where would you go?”

“Tanit’s temple could serve as a sanctuary, can’t it? It has big doors to shut out the sand. I’ll go with some covered skeins of water . . . maybe I can find some comfort for my grief there.”

Juba sighed elaborately. “I suppose you want me to go through with the mummery of some ritual divorce?”

“There’s no need, Juba. Both of us know this is no true marriage.”