Theodosia and the Last Pharoah (25 page)

"Did you see any sign of Gadji, sir?"

"So that wasn't him?" He sighed. "I was afraid it wouldn't be when I saw that hood. Ah, look sharp, Miss Throckmorton. Here come our captors now." He lowered his voice. "Don't let them know I can speak Arabic."

Before I could ask him to explain, Hashim was upon us. He gave us each a stale piece of flatbread to munch on for breakfast, and then five minutes later they had us up in our saddles, ready to move on.

They bound and gagged the major, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, except for the faint bit of whiskery stubble on his cheeks, he looked to be in high spirits.

We continued southward. The sun was merciless and the wedjadeen impervious to it. I felt like a wilted piece of lettuce. Where were they taking us? And would I be cooked to a delicate crunch before we arrived there? Thoughts of Mother filled my head. She would be frantic with worry. Had she sent word to Father that I was missing? Did Wigmere know? And what had happened to Gadji? Surely the Serpents of Chaos would do nothing to such a valuable hostage.

***

On the evening of the second day, the wedjadeen struck out toward the west, heading into the rocky desert. I soon lost all sense of direction. The sand and cliffs of the desert all looked alike to me. I tried to force myself to think of it as an adventure but failed miserably.

Just as dawn began to peek over the horizon, our horses stumbled into a Bedouin camp. Even as exhausted as I was, I recognized what a brilliant cover this was. The wedjadeen could move around at will, come and go as they pleased, and no one would question them.

Men came forward to take our horses and I tumbled from the saddle. Khalfani was there to steady me, which I thought very kind of him since I was more or less his prisoner. Major Grindle, I noticed, was not treated as gently, although he needed it far less, seeming almost to thrive on the hard ride and rustic provisioning. Never had I been more aware of what a true soldier he was, down to his core.

We were herded to a small black tent and bundled inside. "Sleep," was all Khalfani would say, which was just what I wanted to do anyway, so it worked out perfectly. I flopped onto one of the blankets on the ground and felt every portion of my body aching with fatigue. Never had I missed the soft, furry comfort of Isis more. Which is why I was so surprised that I fell asleep the second I closed my eyes.

***

I was awoken sometime later when the tent flap opened, letting in the blinding glare of the sun. I blinked awake and squinted at the figure outlined against the bright light.

"Greetings," she said softly, then came fully inside and let the flap close behind her. once I stopped squinting, I could see she was a girl, slightly older than I was. She wore the less-restrictive dress of the Bedouin, which did not include a veil or burqa, so I could see her face plainly. When she glanced shyly at Major Grindle, there was something familiar in her gaze but I couldn't think what. Then she returned her gaze to me. "I bring you food for your stomachs and water to wash the dust from your faces."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm famished."

Major Grindle's response was much more formal. "We appreciate your hospitality."

The girl ducked her head and began setting out our meal. She lingered as we ate, studying us curiously. Or me, more precisely. Finally, she seemed to get up her courage. "They say that you are the one who found our lost pharaoh and brought him to Luxor. Is this true?"

"Ye-es," I said warily. Was this a good sign, that they were telling people I was responsible for getting him as far as Luxor? "I found him working as a donkey boy in the streets of Cairo. He was quite brave and helped me out of an awkward situation. In return, I offered him a place to stay."

She glanced down at her hands. "And how did you find him? He was well?"

And then it hit me, why she looked familiar. "Are you Safiya?" I asked.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with wonder. "How do you know my name?"

"Gadji spoke of you," I told her.

Her eyes misted over. "He did? He has not forgotten me?"

"No," I said. "He spent days and days trying to find you when he got to Luxor, hoping to be reunited with you. Unfortunately, there was no hint of where you had gone."

"That is good and that is bad. Bad that he could not find me, but good that no one recalls what has happened to me." Then she returned to her original question. "He is well?"

"Yes, he is. A bit on the thin side, but he is in good spirits. Very kind, very brave, and most loyal."

She clasped her hands together. "Thank you, my lady, for having brought my brother closer."

"He's not home yet," I pointed out.

"No, but he will be. The warriors of Horus will find him."

Major Grindle cleared his throat. "Speaking of that, what are the men doing out there? Have they organized any search parties? Sent out any scouts?"

Safiya was too shy to look at him, instead addressing her answers to her feet. "They are meeting now with the
mudir,
telling him of what has transpired. That is why I have been sent. You are to eat, then wash, and then I am to take you to them so they may question you."

"Excellent," the major said.

Excellent
was not the word I would have chosen. Even so, we quickly finished our small meal, and then Safiya stepped outside while we washed in the water provided. Major Grindle turned his back while I washed my face and arms, and then I did the same for him. It was surprisingly intimate washing oneself—even just one's face and hands—with someone else nearby.

Not to mention, the results were most unsatisfactory. My face might have been clean, but my clothes were still filthy and coated with dust.

As Safiya escorted us across the campsite, I saw then what I'd been too distracted to see earlier. The camp was pitched in the shadow of a great temple. Although it was smaller than the Luxor Temple, it was in excellent condition.

We arrived at a large, central tent, and Safiya held the flap for us as we went inside. My first impression was that I hadn't realized tents could be so very big, nor hold so many people. A dozen men were seated on thick rugs on the ground. I recognized Khalfani, Hashim, and the old grumpy wedjadeen who had wanted to kill me and be done with it. Fenuku, I think they had called him. He now wore the leopard skin of a
sem
priest. Bother. I knew that ancient Egyptian priests had often served for only a few months out of the year, but it seemed rather unfair to have them traveling about incognito. Priests ought to have warning signs on them.

Khalfani nodded at us, then turned to the man on his left. "This is the girl,
mudir,
and this man is the
Inglaize
we told you about."

"The one that put a knife to our pharaoh's throat," Fenuku spat out. Clearly he had not forgiven Major Grindle for that yet.

The
mudir
's unblinking gaze passed over the major and landed on me. "Tell us what transpired."

I stood very straight and cleared my throat, determined that my voice not quiver. "When I returned home from my mother's excavation, there was a note on my pillow, demanding that I bring the Emerald Tablet to exchange for Gadji."

The
mudir
shook his head. "No, no. I mean, start at the very beginning. How did you come to have Gadji in your household?"

"Oh,
that
beginning! Well, we were leaving the Cairo museum for our hotel, and we needed to hire some donkeys..." I told him of hiring Gadji as a donkey boy (although not about Sefu's masquerading as his hump and eliciting sympathy from me) and his following us to Luxor and my subsequent hiring of him. When I had finished, they all looked faintly shocked that I had hired their pharaoh to muck out our stable.

"Sir, I'm very sorry," I rushed to add. "But at no time did Gadji mention anything about being a pharaoh. He didn't even know himself, until your men told us. He never balked at performing his duties nor suggested they were beneath him. The first I—we—learned of this was at the Luxor Temple when one of your men called him a pharaoh. I meant no disrespect. I was only trying to help out someone who needed food and shelter."

The
mudir
said nothing, and his gaze hardened as he turned to Major Grindle. "And you, where do you come into all this?"

Standing at full attention as if being inspected by the king, Major Grindle explained how he had first learned of Gadji's existence when the boy had shown up on his doorstep, begging the major to come help the effendi miss because Gadji was afraid she would get herself in trouble. He finished with me showing up on his doorstep, asking for help in getting Gadji back from the Serpents of Chaos.

"And why did you not come to us?" asked one of the seated men.

Major Grindle looked at him blandly. "I did not know of your existence until four days ago, let alone how to get hold of you in the four hours we had to respond to the demands. It seemed best for the boy that we move as quickly as possible to secure his release."

Fenuku leaned forward. "And how do you come to know such powerful magic, to create a tablet such as the one that fooled those men?"

"Years of study," was his clipped response.

Fenuku opened his mouth to say something else—something unpleasant, by the look on his face—so I cleared my throat.

The
mudir
turned his attention from Grindle to me. "You may speak," he said.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, even if Gadji didn't go with your men that night, why didn't they put a guard on him as soon as they recognized him? I mean, with him being so valuable and all."

Fenuku looked as if he wanted to cut out my tongue for my impudence.

The
mudir
turned narrowed eyes to Khalfani. Oh dear. I hadn't meant to get anyone else in trouble, merely sought to shift the blame from us. But honestly, what had they been thinking? I'm just a child and I knew he should have been watched from the moment they first caught sight of him again. If they had, then the Serpents of Chaos would not have been able to nab him in the first place.

Khalfani shifted slightly in his chair. "We did, indeed, post guards,
mudir,
but they were attacked. We found them later, bound and gagged."

"I understand, sir," I said sympathetically. "The Serpents of Chaos have caught me off-guard a number of times."

"Yes, but how did you come to lose the boy in the first place?" Major Grindle asked. "If he was important to you, there should have been more than one old tutor to watch over him."

Fenuku's face flushed a dark, ugly red. "You know nothing about which you speak."

"But if you are going to judge us for not watching him more closely," I said, "it is only fair that we understand how you came to lose him in the first place."

The
sem
priest looked apoplectic, but the
mudir
inclined his head. "It is a fair question. And their knowing will not harm the Son of Re in any way.

"When our last native pharaoh, Nectanebo II, was driven from his rightful throne," the
mudir
began, "he took up refuge in the land of Macedonia. In hiding there, he realized his chances for reclaiming his birthright were meager. His only hope to reclaim the throne lay in any future heirs he might have. He could not risk having the blood of the pharaohs die with him, so he went forth and sired as many children as he could."

"Including Alexander the Great?" I asked. I had not quite believed Awi Bubu when he had first made that claim.

The
mudir'
s eyes sharpened. "Yes, even so. But he was only one of many sons fathered by Nectanebo. The responsibility was given to us, the Eyes of Horus, to watch over these sons, these children in whom the last drops of pharaonic blood flowed. We were to keep them safe, help raise them in the old ways, teach them of their heritage.

"But there were many of these children, in seven different bloodlines, and then these children had children, and so on. At one time there were nearly two score separate descendants of Nectanebo and we looked after them all.

"But one can have only one pharaoh at a time. What to do with all these extras that would not incite feuds and infighting? And when one's country grows poor and weak, overrun by foreign overlords who would use it for their own purposes, of what good is it to be a pharaoh?

"So most of these children lived in obscurity, closely guarded, taught by learned men who ensured they had the knowledge necessary to be pharaoh should the need arise, but never knowing their own true identity until the line of succession indicated they would be needed. This system worked well for us for hundreds and hundreds of years."

"Like a ruddy bank account," I heard Major Grindle mumble under his breath. "Then you could collect them at your whim."

"We lost many during the Turkish occupation of our land, for they were harsh masters. We lost more when Napoleon came to our shores. At the turn of this century, we had eleven descendants of Nectanebo. But the past few years have been hard on our people. When Gadji was born, he was one of only five left, and last in the line of succession.

"Soon there were two in line before him, but when they died of a wasting sickness, he was the only one left. But before we could summon him here to take his place at Qerert Ihy, disaster struck and the boy's tutor came to us, shamefaced with the tale of having lost the boy."

I was incensed that Gadji had been valued so poorly until the others were dead. "So you didn't appreciate him while you had him," I said.

"It is more that his value increased while we were focused elsewhere."

"And what of his sister, Safiya?" I asked. "Doesn't she have the same royal blood?"

"Women cannot serve as pharaoh," Fenuku said curtly.

The
mudir
held up his hand, and we all fell silent.

"Have you launched a rescue party yet?" Major Grindle asked, drawing all eyes back to him.

The
mudir
and Khalfani exchanged glances, and then Khalfani spoke. "We left half our men behind to see if they could find traces of the boy. When we first arrived here at Qerert Ihy, we sent a second wave of scouts to see if they could find where those men had gone. As soon as they report back, we will launch a full assault and rescue our pharaoh." When he stopped speaking, he brusquely clapped his hands. We were dismissed.