THE POISON OF LIES
Ardeth sat quietly and studied a book laid out on his lap. Actually, it was more of a distraction than anything else. He tried to tell himself he was expanding his mind, trying to learn something. However, it was no use trying to kid himself or anyone else for that matter. No book in the entire world could hold his attention for long before his mind wandered to thoughts of Laurel. Forget her. Put her away. Is it not clear that she will never be your wife? Frustrated now, he closed the book and tossed it aside. He couldn't focus on much of anything. He didn't want to. Through careful watching and listening, he had learned that Laurel and her father had gone to Cairo. Part of him hoped that she would stay in Cairo for the rest of his natural life. She came around much too often for his comfort level. Of course, it didn't help that she spent a lot of time with Waqi. He wasn't sure why that disturbed him so. Laurel knew they were to marry, and it wasn't as if she came near him with his intended. It came to him suddenly, as if he had buried it deeply inside, trying to kill it. Simply, if Waqi saw him even glancing at Laurel, she would immediately know that he was in love with her. It would take only seconds for her to pick it up. Despite how he felt about Laurel, he wouldn't dishonor Waqi in such a way. Ardeth was set to brood for a bit, but a distraction of another kind kept him from doing so. He squinted as he focused his eyes on a distant figure approaching. As the person drew closer, he realized it was Haroun, his second in command. Apparently, there was trouble or his friend wouldn't have bothered leaving his wife and children.
"There are two men back at the village demanding to see you," Haroun began. "They say they come from England and have information for you."
England? Why would anyone come for him from England now? Ardeth said nothing in return to Haroun. Instead, he mounted his horse and rode back with the other man. Upon approaching the village, Ardeth noticed that several of his men were flanking the two strangers. One of them Ardeth knew. He had ridden in the gang of men who kidnapped Laurel. Was he the gabân [coward] who shot him? Ardeth felt the heft of his scimitar against his side and his fingers danced lightly over the hilt, ready to strike if the men made one wrong move. The other wasn't familiar to him, but something inside told him that he should know him. Hadn't he seen this man before? England. He saw him in England, Laurel's home, when he spoke to her mother. There were pictures of him and two small boys on the walls. This man had ordered his daughter to marry the kidnapper. He was the one who had the sacred amulet. Ardeth didn't know whether to remain patient or to attack.
"What is it that you want," Ardeth demanded.
"You are Chieftain Bay," Tehotu asked, stating the obvious.
"I am," he said, nodding curtly. "I ask again. What business do you have here?" A thousand things ran through his mind. Were they searching for something to steal? For the Lost City? From the looks of the men, it wasn't as easy as that. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what they had to say. "Begin speaking or my men and I will escort you out." He wasn't aware that he had made the command through clenched teeth. These were men he hated. Although he knew little or nothing about them, he was aware that both had harmed Laurel and both deserved punishment.
"I am Tehotu Aciquilla," he said. "I believe you know my daughter." There was an implication in Tehotu's words that Ardeth didn't care for. "I don't think our discussion should occur out here amongst all these men. I wish to speak to you man-to-man. I think it's in your best interest to do so, Chieftain."
He felt his lips drawing into a snarl. This man wasn't Laurel's father. He was her captor, pushing her toward a man she did not want. He controlled his rage, but kept a hard, stoic look about him. He wanted nothing more than to drive them away. "Istîzân," [leave] he commanded to the men surrounding the outsiders. Without question, the other men drew away. He didn't trust Tehotu and his partner, but they had risked life and limb to approach the village. Whatever they had to say was either quite important or very poisonous. He nodded toward a hitching post. "We can go inside."
The three men sat together, each exchanging mistrustful, murderous looks. "My daughter kept a diary," Tehotu began. "Not very long ago, I acquired it." As if to quell any doubts rushing through the Chieftain's mind, Tehotu carefully took the diary out of his shirt pocket and slammed it down in front of Ardeth. "In it, she recorded many things, including her contact with you."
Ardeth fixed his eyes on the book before staring at the small man. He immediately knew what Tehotu was trying to say. However, his knowledge of it didn't have an effect on Ardeth at all. "You are disappointed," he offered, his lips once again fighting against the snarl threatening to unfurl. Although it was wrong, he found the thought darkly amusing. "What you must understand is that Laurel is not chattel. You cannot sell, trade, or barter for her. She will never allow anyone to do that to her. She is much stronger than she appears."
As if fearing that Ardeth would take the diary, Tehotu quickly grabbed it and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Your speech was rather touching, Chieftain, but it really has no purpose," Tehotu said. "However, since you're discussing how noble she is, I have an important piece of information to share with you. This is information that she withheld from you. Were you aware that Laurel was with child when she came home to us?"
Within seconds, the subtle snarl and smugness were quickly wiped away from his face. He didn't believe it. Enough time had passed for it to be obvious that she was carrying a child, especially unclothed. He clearly remembered the last time he was with her. Her abdomen, smooth and silky, was flat. If she had been with child, he would have known…would have seen. There were no indicators whatsoever. None. At that moment, he digested Tehotu's words: Laurel was with child. Was. A tiny word that indicated something had passed or was somehow gone. An eventuality. Recouping little by little, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Was," he heard himself saying. "She is no longer?" It seemed as if he had begun to hold his breath in anticipation of Tehotu's answer. It was obvious, of course. She wasn't. Yet, he had to ask, had to know. He had no way of knowing that seconds later he would rue the decision to voice such a question.
Before Tehotu had a chance to speak, Bishop decided to break in, knowing that his words were foul, vicious lies, but not caring one single ounce. He hated this man sitting before him and would fill him full of holes with little or no provocation. "No," he said. "She is no longer. On the trip to England, she was very ill, the type of illness that strikes women when they're with child. Mr. Portafoy insisted she see a physician and he confirmed the diagnosis. She asked for and received assistance in getting rid of it. After all, she thought you dead. She saw no reason to keep it."
It took approximately three seconds for Ardeth to launch himself at the man. He was certain that this was the one who fired the gun that brought him to his knees. However, he wasn't thinking about that, it was a thought buried in the back of his mind. She asked for and received assistance in getting rid of it. It was a thought completely incomprehensible. Why would she do something like that? He had accused, tried, and convicted her before he knew the full story. Suddenly, he began to see things quite clearly. Her behavior after they made love; the cries of 'oh' emitting from her mouth; her refusal to stay with him seemed to make sense now. She wouldn't stay with him knowing that she had destroyed his child. No. It couldn't be true. "You lie," he roared in Bishop's face. She would not have done that, not after what happened to her as a child. Think. Think. Think. He couldn't think, nothing could break through the rage, absolutely nothing. "Your words are vile and poisonous," he growled through clenched teeth. "You should die for that sin."
"Chieftain," Tehotu called calmly. "Speaking the truth is certainly not a sin. Let him go."
Ardeth, completely intent on killing this man, didn't want to do anything of the sort. He could snap Bishop's neck in seconds. The urge was great, the rage intense, but he let it seep out of his pores like acidic sweat. He backed away, finally realizing that Bishop's face was turning quite red. Ardeth had been moments away from taking this man's life. He settled back, keeping his body tense and wired. If Bishop so much as coughed, he would be a dead man.
"Confront her," Tehotu said. "Go to her and confront her."
* * *
Nightfall. There were no stars out and the air was crisp, almost frigid. Perhaps it was just Ardeth's heart. Tehotu and Bishop were out to hurt him, to complete some type of need for revenge. What they told him was enough. They had ridden away, apparently satisfied with what they had done. Ardeth did his own riding. Laurel and her father were in Cairo, but he had no problem going to Ustâd's modest home to await them. He could actually camp out and wait without being detected by either of them. The words the two men had spoken were still slicing into his heart, taking out pieces with each thrust and retrieval. Did he believe it? Did he believe anything they said? He didn't want to, didn't want to think she could be so cold-hearted. Yet, when he put it all together, it made perfect sense, and he had been blind to it. He wasn't a stupid man. He knew that each time they made love there was always a possibility of creating a life. She had thought he died. She had spoken those words to him. But would she…could she? Why else would she deny him? Why else would she refuse to stay? She could. She did.
* * *
By the time Laurel, Tarita, and Bart made it back, it was a few hours before dawn. They stopped only once to make camp. Tarita hadn't been aware, but Laurel was awake when her mother quietly slipped out of their tent. Curious, Laurel listened until she realized that Tarita had crawled into Bart's tent. Not knowing what was about to happen between her parents, she had crawled out of the tent, taking a blanket with her. She understood that her mother was proper and genteel, and there was likely nothing truly going on, but she wasn't completely oblivious. They had spent much of the ride talking, making Laurel feel as if she were a third wheel. Of course, she had never seen her mother that happy before, even when the twins were born. She thought their reconnecting was a wonderful thing. Yet, there was a little twinge of jealousy. It was there, blooming in the pit of her stomach. It was beautiful, but also bittersweet. As soon as Laurel stepped into her small room, she began looking for her mother. She was supposed to share her room. When she didn't come in, Laurel shook her head and smiled a little. She didn't know where Tarita was, and she wouldn't look for her. Instead, Laurel undressed and wrapped herself in her favorite dressing gown. She had just finished twisting her hair up for the night when she heard a slight noise outside. She listened carefully, thinking it was her imagination. When she didn't immediately hear it again, she turned toward her bed. It came again. She had definitely heard something. It sounded like…the snort of a horse. Oh, surely not. Who would approach at this hour in the morning? Laurel crept out of her bedroom and heard the noise again. It was definitely a horse. She was three seconds from calling out to her father, but she heard a familiar voice making a single command: Wiqif [stop]. Immediately recognizing Ardeth's voice, she went outside to find out why he had come here. Ardeth dismounted and focused his eyes on her face. His rage was intense, but it had a strong opponent, his love.
"What are you doing here," she asked quietly.
"I know why you keep leaving me," he said.
She tilted her head and gazed up at him. She had never seen him so emotionless…so blank. His eyes were flashing angrily; she could see this, even in the dark. "Ardeth, what are you doing here," she asked again. "What do you mean you know?"
"I will never forgive you," he said slowly, each word dripping venom.
"What are you talking about," she demanded. "I don't understand."
"I am sure you do not," he said, his words almost…sarcastic. "I often wondered what kept you away after you came back to Egypt. I knew that you loved me…or you said you did." At that, he looked away for a very brief moment before facing her again. "I did not understand. It took a visit from two men whom I hate simply due to the fact that they hurt you. What rips me apart is that these men told me more truths than you ever did."
Confused, she nearly lost the ability to speak, but she forced her mouth to open. "Two men? Tehotu was one of them, wasn't he? Help me, Ardeth, I don't understand." How many times would she have to say those words before he explained himself?
"Who it was matters not. What they revealed is the only relevant fact. I suppose since you thought I was dead that it would not matter. Why did you do it? What was your reasoning?"
"What in the bloody hell are you talking about," she asked, her voice rising slightly. He was looking at her as if he hated her. "Why did I do what?"
He absolutely didn't want to say the words, but it was apparent that she wanted to force it out of him. "You destroyed our child."
She gawped at him. "Is that what they told you? It's not true. I promise you, there was never a child."
The words didn't break through the ice. "You saw a physician?"
"Yes, but only because Reginald forced me to go. He was convinced that I was carrying a child because I was seasick. He said if there was a child, he would force me to get rid of it, but there wasn't one."
Ardeth stared at her, through her. "You saw a physician, you were sick, and he wanted you to get rid of it." The word 'it' cut him viciously. He didn't like thinking in terms of 'it.' "They told me everything you said, but this is your version. Everything coincides. It is much too close to be a coincidence. All of it. I almost killed a man today; I thought he was lying, but I do not think so, not after hearing you. You pushed me away; you did not want me to find out what you did. Did you think I never would?" He stopped for a moment and shook his head. "Of course not. To you, I was dead. To you now, I am dead."
"Ardeth, it's not true," she said, not believing the incredible ire flowing from him like a polluted stream. "I couldn't do that. I would never do that. The reason I stayed away was because…"
He didn't give her a chance to finish. He lifted his hand, dismissing her. "Lâ." He turned from her and mounted his horse. He looked down at her for what he was certain would be the last time. "To you now, I am dead," he repeated. "When I leave, I will not see, hear, or touch you again."
"Ardeth, please…"
"Bess [enough]. I have heard all I need to know." He pulled the reins. "Râh," [go] he called before he disappeared into the blackness.
Laurel looked after him, hearing his words over and over inside her head. To you now, I am dead.
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To be continued…
