Raiders of the Nile

XXI

The curtain doorway did not open directly into the adjoining hut, but into a passageway between the two. The dark little hallway was cluttered with trunks, boxes, and piles of clothing stacked all the way to the ceiling-yet more of Ismene’s loot, I presumed. The clutter on either side created a passage within the passage, so that I had to turn this way and that to make my way forward. It also served to deaden the sound, so that a noise in one of the huts could hardly be heard in the other. The wind also covered any noise I made. It had begun to rise, whistling through the thatched roof above my head.

Even so, as I approached another curtained doorway-the twin of the one I had just passed through-I heard voices from the room beyond. First I heard a man’s voice, so quiet that I could discern nothing more than the gender of the speaker, and then-my heart skipped a beat-a voice I would have known anywhere, even though she, too, spoke so quietly that I couldn’t make out the words.

I reached for the curtain, intending to draw it aside, but Ismene drew beside me and stayed my hand. Keeping a finger pressed to her lips, she shook her head, then raised her palm, indicating that I should stay where I was and do nothing. Slowly and silently, she parted the curtain, but only to a finger’s width, and indicated that I should put one eye to the narrow opening and take a look.

Even with her back to me, I instantly recognized Bethesda by her long black hair, and also by the way she stood, with her shoulders back and her head tilted up, looking at the much taller man who stood before her. I had no trouble recognizing Artemon, whose face was clearly lit by the lamp that hung above them.

Whenever I had thought of Bethesda in the days since she went missing, I had pictured her as I had seen her last, wearing the green dress that I had given her for my birthday. I was a bit disconcerted to see that she was wearing something altogether different-a robe of many colors, made of some rich fabric that glistened in the warm glow of the lamp, cinched at the waist with a leather belt ornamented with jewels and silver medallions. I had seldom seen silk, especially in such a quantity, but surely that was what this garment was made of. According to Ismene, Bethesda had been treated like a princess in her captivity. She had been dressed like one, too.

Artemon spoke again. Pressed to the narrow opening, I was just able to make out his words.

“When, Axiothea?” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. “When will you give up hope that the old man wants you back? If he intended to pay the ransom, he would have done so by now. He would at least have given some response to our messages.”

Bethesda bowed her head. “Not yet, Artemon. The time has not come yet.”

“But it will come-is that what you mean to say?”

Though I couldn’t hear it, from the rise and fall of her shoulders I knew that Bethesda sighed.

“Give me a sign, Axiothea-some token to show me that what I long for is not beyond my reach. Do you share my feelings, or not?” His tone became strident.

From the look on his face, from the words he spoke, from the way he stood before her, like a suppliant rather than a captor, there could be no doubt. Artemon was in love with Bethesda.

On his face I saw a look of mingled hope and despair. I might have been looking into a mirror. His suffering was the same as mine. I had been deprived of the thing dearest to me, separated by miles of wilderness and water. Artemon, too, was being denied the thing he wanted most-even though she stood before him.

“If you won’t give me a sign, then let me give you one,” he whispered. He reached into his tunic, pulled out the little sapphire ring he had taken from me earlier, and held it before him, like an offering. “For you, Axiothea.”

“Another?” Bethesda said. From the exasperation in her voice I gathered this was only the latest in a long line of gifts.

“Here, let me put it on your finger.” He stepped closer to her. His eyes lit up and his face flushed. He looked so young and helpless that I found it harder than ever to imagine him as the leader of a dangerous band of brigands. He looked like a mere boy, and more than that, like a boy in love, breathless at the mere prospect of touching his beloved’s hand.

“It fits your finger perfectly! That must be a sign, don’t you think? Go on, hold it up to the light. See how it sparkles.”

He raised her hand toward the lamp. The jewel caught the light and shone like a star in the space between them, but only for a moment. Bethesda pulled her hand from his.

“Perfect and beautiful, yes,” she admitted. “Like this dress, and my shoes, and the necklace I’m wearing. Like all the lovely things you’ve given me. Even so, Artemon, I can’t-”

“I don’t imagine such gifts impress you, after all that Tafhapy must have given you. He’s spoiled you, I suppose.”

“No, Artemon, it isn’t that-”

“A kiss!” he said. “That’s all I ask. Only a kiss. Only one.”

He drew closer still. Because he was taller than Bethesda, I was able to see his eyes until the moment he bowed his head, took her face in his hands, and turned it up to his. Bethesda dropped her hands to her sides. She clenched her fingers.

I gave a start. My body seemed to act on its own, without thought. In another instant I would have been through the curtain, but Ismene dug her fingernails into my arm, so hard that I gasped at the pain. Had it not been for the rising wind and the rain that suddenly pelted the roof, Artemon and Bethesda would surely have heard me.

Or would they? Suddenly they seemed to be in a world utterly removed from me, totally absorbed in each other. Was he kissing her? Almost certainly he was, but all I could see was the back of her head, and a bit of his forehead just beyond. Was she kissing him in return? It was impossible to tell. Her body seemed tense, her shoulders stiff, but only her eyes could have revealed what she felt. Was Artemon looking into her eyes at that moment? What did he see there?

Time seemed to stop. The kiss seemed endless, suspended in time, like every kiss between true lovers. I felt the ground drop away below me. I seemed to hang in empty space, surrounded by darkness, seeing only the two of them through the narrow slit.

With a sudden, resounding crack, the moment ended. The crack was the sound of Bethesda slapping him across the face.

I stiffened, fearing that Artemon would strike her in return. Instead he staggered back, touching his flaming cheek. He gave her a stricken look and simply stood there, staring at her, for a long time. All expression drained from his face. At last he turned his back on her, squared his shoulders, and appeared to draw several deep breaths, as if composing himself. He pushed aside the cloth that covered the entrance and left the hut.

I reached for the curtain, eager to step into the room and join Bethesda, but again Ismene held me back.

“No!” she whispered, pressing her mouth close to my ear to be heard above the rising wind. “You can’t go to her now. Artemon might yet come back. You’ve seen what you needed to see. Come back to my room. Come, Roman! Follow me!”

She clutched my arm, as a hawk clutches its prey, and pulled me back. Her strength was uncanny. Or was I weak, drained of my will by what I had seen? I allowed her to draw me through the cluttered passage and back into her room.

The lamp had burned low. The room was darker than before. The wind howled outside.

“Do you see now why I couldn’t take you to her?” said Ismene. “Do you understand why you can’t go to her, even now? If Artemon were to realize the truth-that you’ve come here to find Bethesda and take her back-there’s no telling what he might do.”

“Artemon is a boy!” I said. “A lovesick boy.”

Ismene nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But if you think that’s all he is-if you think that makes him ridiculous, and harmless-then you’re a greater fool than I imagined. There is much more to Artemon than you seem to think.”

“But once he realizes that Bethesda isn’t Axiothea, that she’s merely another man’s slave-”

“He’ll lose interest in her? Do you really know so little of love? No, Roman, as far as everyone here is concerned, you must be Pecunius, and she must be Axiothea, and the two of you must never have met before.”

“What about Bethesda? Does she know I’m here?”

“Not yet.”

“Will you tell her?”

“I suppose I must, if only so she won’t be startled and give you both away the first time she sees you.”

“When will that be? When can I see her?”

Ismene shook her head. “I don’t know. Not yet. For now, you must keep your distance.”

This was not the answer I wanted. I began to object, but a rapping at the door interrupted me.

Artemon called out. “Metrodora, are you done with the Roman? We need to get back to our huts.”

“Go,” Ismene said, pushing me out the doorway.

Suddenly I faced the prospect of standing face to face with Artemon. Would I be able to hide what I felt? I braced myself, but before our eyes could meet, he turned away and headed back the way we had come, walking very quickly. Menkhep, Djet, and I followed.

Above our heads, glowering clouds were faintly lit with the last gray glimmer of twilight. Scattered raindrops pelted my face. The vegetation all around us shivered and thrashed like frenzied Bacchantes performing some ecstatic dance. Even the waters of the Nile were churned into a frenzy. Foaming waves splashed against the muddy shore, and when we reached the huts, I gazed between them to see little whitecaps dancing on the surface of the lagoon.

Artemon turned his face to the sky, narrowing his eyes against the wind and rain. “Metrodora predicted the storm would reach this far south. She knew there would be strong winds and rain.”

“What else did she tell you?” said Menkhep. “Will there be an expedition?” His eyes lit up.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” said Artemon. “For now, take shelter. Get a good night’s rest-if you can sleep amid this din.”

As if to make his point, a blinding flash of lightning ripped across the sky, followed shortly by a crack of thunder that shook the ground.

Menkhep hurried off. For a brief instant, Artemon’s eyes met mine, then he retreated into his hut.

Suddenly, above the sound of the rising storm, I heard again the animal’s roar that had startled me when I first arrived. Or did I only imagine that sound amid so many noises? I thought I had already seen or at least been warned of all the dangerous creatures that resided in the Delta, but none that I knew of could produce such a blood-chilling sound.

“Did you hear that, Djet?”

“Hear what?”

“That roar. Some sort of animal-”

“It’s only the storm. Come on! Hurry!” Djet took my hand and pulled me to our hut.

Fumbling in the darkness of the little room, we found our beds. I sat to take off my shoes. I pulled off my tunic, but left on my loincloth. I lay back, pulled the thin coverlet over me, and listened to the storm outside. Nearby, in his own bed, Djet began to snore softly; the boy could sleep anywhere. I remained wide awake, staring into the darkness, sensing the shivering and shaking of the hut as it was buffeted by the wind, seeing glimmers of lightning through tiny openings in the thatch, clutching the coverlet as thunder pounded the earth like a mallet. Though he mumbled in his sleep, nothing seemed to wake Djet.

Time passed. Minutes, hours-I had no way of knowing. The storm showed no sign of relenting.

At last I threw off the coverlet and rose from the bed. I put on my shoes, but not my tunic. I walked to the doorway and stepped outside.

Rain fell steadily, but it was lukewarm, not cold. I looked about and saw no sign that anyone else was awake. The huts were all shut up and dark. If the Cuckoo’s Nest had sentries, surely even these had taken shelter. Except for the foliage that danced all around me, I was the only living thing that stirred.

What of the roar I had heard earlier? What sort of wild animal was lurking in the woods? Was it awake and watchful, ready to stalk and slay any man who dared to venture out? Or had that creature, too, taken shelter from the storm? Or did such a creature even exist? Djet thought I had merely imagined the sound of its roar, and perhaps he was right.

I took a deep breath, left the safety of the hut, and set out into the wild, wet darkness.

On the way back from the visit to Ismene, I had paid close attention to the twists and turns of the path. Even so, it was hard to find my way. A few times I took a wrong turn and found myself at the water’s edge, or facing an impassible wall of vegetation. At last I came to the little clearing and saw the joined huts before me. Every part of me was soaked with rain. The loincloth around my hips was heavy and sodden.

I studied Ismene’s doorway for a moment. I saw no glimmer of light or any other sign that she might be awake. Then I walked around the structure, to the entrance at the opposite side. That doorway, too, was dark.

The storm raged as wildly as ever, yet I heard nothing but the beating of my own heart and I saw nothing but the curtain that covered the doorway. After so many days of alarm, confusion, despair, searching, and hope-always hope-that curtain was the only thing still separating me from Bethesda.

I pulled it to one side and stepped into the hut.

The room was dark, but just before the curtain fell, lightning flickered behind me. I saw the room for only an instant-just long enough to glimpse a stark, dreamlike image of Bethesda sitting upright in her bed, facing me. She was awake, with wide-open eyes, no longer wearing the many-colored garment in which she had received Artemon, but a simple sleeping tunic.

What did she see? The figure of a man in silhouette, soaked with rain, wearing nothing but a loincloth. No wonder she gasped.

The flicker of lightning passed. The room became a hole of darkness. I stepped toward her.

“Stay back!” she said. Her words were echoed by a peal of thunder.

I tried to speak, but couldn’t find my voice. The image of her on the bed remained imprinted on my eyes, unchanging as I moved forward in the darkness. My knees struck the bed. I groped the air. My fingertips touched warm flesh. I blindly reached out, captured her, and pulled her toward me.

Fists pounded my chest. “No, Artemon!” she whispered.

I opened my mouth, but something thick and heavy seemed to be lodged in my throat. I couldn’t speak. Nor could I let go of her, no matter how she twisted and turned in my arms. The more she struggled, the more desperately I held her.

My lips found hers. I covered her mouth with a kiss. She resisted, but I held her fast. The taste of her mouth, so longed for and sweetly familiar, sent a quiver of delight through me. In the same moment, I felt a stab of pain and tasted blood from my broken lip.

My limbs acted of their own volition. I hardly knew how we came to be horizontal on the bed, her tunic torn, my wet loincloth cast aside. At every point she resisted me, and at every point I overcame her, until I found myself holding her down and poised on the verge of entering her.

It was then that my senses came to me-slowly, as if I emerged from a stupor. I remained as I was, motionless above her, gasping for breath. In that same moment, somehow-by taste, smell, touch, the sound of my breathing? — she realized who I was.

“No!” she whispered. “This can’t be real. This is a dream.”

“Not a dream,” I said, finally able to speak.

Bethesda drew a sharp breath. Her hands, gripping my arms to hold me back, relaxed for a moment, then gripped me harder than before.

“Didn’t Ismene tell you I was here?”

“Who is Ismene?”

I almost laughed. In a world where everyone seemed to have two names, no wonder there was so much confusion!

“Never mind,” I said. Then I did laugh-a laugh of sheer joy as Bethesda suddenly took advantage of the lapse in my concentration and broke free, only to reverse our positions. Suddenly I was on my back and she was on top of me.

In the next instant, ecstasy swallowed me and held me in its grip, so firmly and completely that I thought it would never let me go.

We took a long, tumultuous ride into the vortex. At the end, who cried out the loudest, Bethesda or I? Outside, the wind continued to howl and the thunder to crash. Otherwise, Artemon and the others would have heard us all the way to the lagoon.