Lifetime of Celebration
By Jeannette Hetfield
Chapter 3
A pack of twenty Med-jai were on their way home, having just paid a visit to the ninth tribe. Ardeth Bay rode at the head, standing tall and proud in the saddle. His second-in-command Madir Bushan, rode close at his right-hand side. The sharp eyes of the warriors took in everything. No grain of sand could be moved without their trained senses detecting it. They watched and waited for signs of any unseen threat. Hands fingered their scimitar hilts in case they needed to be ready for action at a moment's notice. The younger warriors anxiously hoped for an oncoming battle as the blood lust for their first kill consumed them.
The atmosphere flowing around the warriors was tense to say the least. Barely a day passed by without tension being the main occupant in their daily routine of guarding the City of the Dead. The treasure hunters would never stop coming and the greed for gold was an appetite never satisfied. This was the duty of the Med-jai. To guard. To kill. To prevent the creature from rising. It could have been a sad existence, but their growing numbers provided each tribe with security and a closeness amongst the families that outsiders could only dream of.
Ardeth was simply sitting in the saddle, not having to do much except for the occasional pull of the reins to steer the Arabian away from wanting to stop and inspect one of the many desert dwelling creatures that crossed his path. Ahmar knew the way home so Ardeth sat back, but could not bring himself to relax. It was not easy for the now twenty-six year old man to rest easy. Too many thoughts to count ran through his mind. Hamunaptra was at the forefront of his thoughts. It was now 1922. Three thousand years had gone by and the Med-jai had managed to keep the creature from resurrecting. Their job was not easy, but they had always managed to come out victorious against the trespassers of the treasure trove. He was not sure why, but the young chieftain feared that the clean track record was about to change.
At the moment, he feared something more than the resurrection of the creature…marriage talk. He had been receiving pressure from the elders, Madir and family, especially his mother. She wanted grandchildren and always managed to bring up into every conversation that she could not have many more rising suns to see and she wanted to hold a baby in her arms before her body turned to dust. Many arguments were the result of his refusal to marry any of the village women.
"Why my son?"
"I do not love anyone of them."
"Does love matter?"
"It matters to me!" he angrily screamed.
His mother was taken aback and lowered her gaze.
"Ume, forgive me for shouting. Love matters to me a great deal," he said, his voice much calmer than before. "I cannot give myself or my love to a woman that does not love me in return. After all, you loved Abu (father), did you not?"
"Yes," she admitted, "more than my own life."
He nodded. "Then you understand what marriage means to me. It is a sacred union meant only for lovers. These women in the village compete for my attentions. They have no respect for what role I play in life. They disgust me," he said vehemently.
"You still miss her, don't you? The American girl?"
"I do not wish to discuss Jensa."
"Ah…yes, I see it very clearly now. You are in love with her. Ardeth, ibn (son), she is thousands of miles away, across a vast expanse of water. She is gone. Perhaps it is time for you to realize that it was not meant to be, otherwise, she would be here and you would not sleep nights alone in a cold bed."
"She promised she would come back," he said quietly.
"It has been five years since she left this country. Do you really expect her to suddenly show up? Do you really truly believe she will return…to you?"
Ardeth considered her questions very carefully. He had not heard a single word from Jensa, not that he really expected her to write him or send a telegram everyday…wait, he had said it. He did not expect her to. Was that really what his mind had been telling him, but his heart refusing to listen? Indeed it was. He didn't believe she would come back. She was undoubtedly caught up in her life and friends in New York. Why would she give up the luxuries her birthright could afford for her? It was true that Ardeth did not hurt for money. He spent very little of it. In truth, he was saving as much as he could for the family he hoped to someday have. But it looked like that someday would be a long time in coming.
"No," he finally answered. "I do not believe she will come back. She was very young and feelings at that age change very quickly."
"Will you now agree to keep your options open?" she asked hopefully.
"Do not pressure me, Ume. I will marry and produce an heir when I feel the time is right and when I know she will love me in return, whoever that she may be. This discussion is closed."
His mother took his face in her slightly wrinkled hands and pulled his head down to kiss him on the forehead. "Ardeth, follow your heart. The right woman will come along when she is supposed to. Whatever is supposed to be, will be. I will no longer pressure you into marriage or about giving me grandchildren."
"Somehow, I doubt the last part."
Ardeth blinked away the past conversation. The ache was still there. He missed Jensa more than he could express. He wanted nothing more than to wake up next to her each morning. As the years passed, he realized she would not come back, but he could not bring himself to even contemplate marriage with another when his heart was breaking for the one he could not have.
He continually tortured himself with memories of her. He had forgotten some things, but he would never forget her green eyes, her soft skin or the way her hair felt as he ran his fingers through it. What would she look like now? She would be twenty-one, of marriageable age. Ardeth feared that her family may have married her off to another man. If that were true, then she was forever lost to him.
"My Lord," came a voice from his right.
"Yes, Madir. What is it?"
"A falcon." He pointed straight up.
Ardeth's gaze rose up, shielding his face with his hand and squinting his eyes. The silhouette of a screeching falcon flew above them in the sun's rays. It was one of their hundreds of messenger birds. Even from their distance, Ardeth knew it was his favorite, his truest friend. He held out his arm and Horus swooped down for a landing.
As Ardeth read the note scrawled in hasty Arabic, he sighed heavily. They were almost home and they had to turn right around and go to the City of the Dead. He quickly responded, telling his men they would arrive by nightfall. Horus shot up in the sky to deliver the message.
"My Lord?" questioned Madir.
"Another expedition is heading for Hamunaptra," he announced in the native tongue for all to hear, "We must leave now and stop them. It is unfortunate that we were so close to home. We have been away many months, but once we have rid the City of the new expedition, we will return home as quickly as possible."
With that, the Med-jai warriors turned away from the path that lead to their peaceful village and turned onto the path that caused more tormenting for them. Many warriors had died there and they now avenged the deaths of their comrades each time they attacked the City. It would be no different this time.