Wow! Nice group of reviews! Keep it up! The more reviews I get, the
quicker I post the next sections!
Deana: Trust me, up until the day she died, Ardath knew how lucky she was. And when she gets older, Miranda will realize how lucky she is, too!
Sailor Elf: Hello and welcome! Ardeth is VERY handsome, isn't he? I often tell my best friend that the man is my idea of the ultimate romantic hero.
Cindy: Then you'll really enjoy this. . .there's a lot more of Ardeth, Celia and Miranda interacting as a family!
Nefertirioc: Well, hello there and welcome back! Is this soon enough, in terms of updating? I'm honestly not sure how much of a chance I'll have to update this week, since my brother, sister-in-law and sixteen year old nephew will be in. Fortunately, this is a much shorter story than 'The Forever Friends.' We're almost halfway through it already, and I'm working on the third story in the series, called 'What Might Have Been.'
Part Two
Ardeth Bey thoroughly enjoyed the last hour. Not only was he spending time with Miranda, but he was teaching her to ride. Such lessons provided him with some of his best childhood memories, for his father taught him to ride. He hoped Miranda would have similar memories as an adult. Beforehand, he requested Celia's permission. While Ardeth loved Miranda as if she was his, he was not yet her father in legal terms.
As Ardeth drew the stallion to a halt, Hanif approached. The young Med-jai held out his arms for the little girl, a smile appearing as the child told him about riding in the desert, how pretty the horse was, and they saw her Uncle Rick. Hanif did not laugh through the child's narrative. But he almost lost his composure when Miranda mentioned seeing Rick O'Connell. Though things improved between the Carnahan-O'Connell clan and the Med-jai, many warriors still had little use for the American. . .including Hanif.
"Is my bride with my sisters and mother?" Ardeth asked the young warrior, holding out his arms to Miranda. Hanif inclined his head, returning the little girl to the chieftain. With a smile, Ardeth flipped the little girl in mid-air, making her laugh, then set her atop his shoulders. Ardeth continued, "My thanks, Hanif. . . Miranda and I shall see to her mother." Once more, Hanif inclined his head, a smile appearing, then Ardeth headed toward his mother's tent.
He knew better than to barge in. Rather, he knocked on the tent pole and waited until his mother beckoned him inside. Ardeth swung Miranda from his shoulders and ducked into the tent. As he did, he had the pleasure of seeing his Celia smile at him. Now that he had a wife. . .or would soon. . . Ardeth understood the reluctance of O'Connell to leave her. Ardeth smiled back and asked, "I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of Celia's company, Mother?"
"Of course. . .so long as you take Miranda with you as a chaperone," his mother answered serenely. If she expected an argument, she was mistaken. Ardeth merely held out his hand to his intended, and Ardeth's mother added, "Go, child. Acacia can do the work for a while. You need a break." Celia put down her sewing and took Ardeth's hand, with Miranda holding onto his other. Together, the family stepped into the heat of the Saharan afternoon.
Celia swung Miranda into her arms, settling her on her hip as she walked beside Ardeth. He was still trying to believe that this was happening to him. When he stopped and thought about the changes in his life during the last few months, it took his breath away. As did the love he felt for this woman and this child. Ardeth smiled, listening as Miranda excitedly told Celia about riding the horse and all of their adventures that day.
The adults said nothing, simply walked hand in hand. Eventually, after Miranda wound down, Celia began to tell her daughter about what they would be doing for the wedding. As the little girl began nodding off, Ardeth said softly, "I think perhaps it is time the little one took another nap. Would you mind terribly, Miranda, if I spend time alone with your mother?" Miranda lifted her head sleepily from Celia's shoulder.
"You aren't gonna do really grown-up stuff?" she asked somewhat suspiciously. Ardeth and Celia exchanged a look, Ardeth seeing his own question reflected in Celia's eyes. Really grown up stuff? Miranda continued, "I mean, you're just gonna kiss, right? 'Cause Uncle Rick says. . ." Her voice trailed off, her eyes switching from one adult to the other.
"No, honey, we'll probably talk more than anything else. Ardeth needs to tell me some things about the wedding ceremony and stuff like that," Celia said, quietly reassuring her daughter. Over the little girl's head, Celia mouthed, 'tell you in a few minutes.' Ardeth nodded. Yes. And then he would have a few things to say to O'Connell about watching his mouth around his daughter! Ardeth stopped mentally and realized what he just thought.
But Miranda's words distracted him, as the little girl said, "Oh. That's different, then. Mommy, can I go back to Damara's tent?" Celia shook her head, and Miranda asked, a slight whine in her voice, "But why not?" Ardeth didn't see Celia's face, but he did see Miranda's. He could handle evil of all sorts, but he was a pushover with Miranda.
"No, Miranda Christabel. . .she's asleep. She was getting very cranky and needed her nap," Celia answered in a quiet, firm voice. Her 'Mum' voice, Jonathan called it, adding that it always made him check and see if his hands were clean. Garai's answer was that it was the same tone Ardeth employed when his patience with a recalcitrant warrior was running thin. Which raised questions in Ardeth's mind; however, those questions could wait for an answer.
And as it always did with those warriors, the tone did its job on the little girl. Miranda looked over at him expectantly, as if she knew how easy it would be to wrap him around her little pinky finger. Ardeth gazed back silently, hoping she didn't push further. His wish was granted. Miranda fell silent, leaning her head back against Celia's shoulder, and asked, "Then can I stay with Aunt Evy and Gramma Altair?"
"I think we could arrange that," came Celia's reply. She grinned up at Ardeth, and the chieftain had the uneasy sense that his intended knew exactly what he was thinking. Uneasy, because he was still unused to someone aside from his mother or siblings reading him that well. The pair returned Miranda to Ardeth's mother, who was quite happy about having another granddaughter to spoil rotten.
His mother accepted the sleepy little girl with a knowing smile. Ardeth blushed as she whispered, "At last, my middle son sneaks off to enjoy time with a young lady. I worried about you, my Ardeth." Celia made a strange noise, but when he looked at her, she was only smiling faintly. He eyed her suspiciously. . .she looked too innocent for his liking. Like one of his sisters, after they pulled a prank. But he could question her later.
"We shall return later, Mother," he replied. What else could he say? His mother only nodded, stroking Miranda's hair as the little girl snuggled against her. With what remained of his dignity, the chieftain rose to his feet and held out his hand to Celia. She took it, then they left the tent. Ardeth did not release her hand as they walked toward the corral. He learned that Celia was inexperienced on horses. . .but she was learning.
In silence, they each prepared their horses, but the silence felt neither heavy nor strained. No words needed to be expressed, and Celia felt no need to fill the silence with unimportant things. It was only after they had both mounted, and he looked at her for the third time, that she finally asked, "Ardeth, what's bothering you? Is it what we talked about last night? And if nothing's bothering you, why are you constantly looking at me?"
For a split second, Ardeth thought about making a flippant remark. It was what O'Connell would have done. However, that wasn't whom he was, and it wasn't whom she was. And Ardeth could only give her the truth. He answered, "I spent my entire life looking for you, without realizing I was looking. I wish to make sure that you are real, my Celia. That you are real, and that I am alive."
She looked at him, murmuring, "Ardeth, I am as real as you are. I'll not leave you." Ardeth ducked his head, nudging his horse forward. The pair were silent as they cantered through the gate of the corral. Once they were away from the camp, Celia put her hand on his thigh and said, "I know you're afraid you won't be a good father, or a good husband, but you'll be fine. I have faith in you." Ardeth freed one hand from the reins to take Celia's hand. As much as he loved this woman, he was afraid he wouldn't be a good husband. He had twelve tribes to lead.
When would he have time to spend with Celia and their children? What was he thinking, marrying a woman, no matter how much he loved her? Yes, he had his obligation to the Med-jai, providing heirs and training the next generation. But. . . Ardeth's train of thought was stopped when Celia's hand slipped out of his, coming to rest on his thigh once more. She said softly, "I think we should finish the conversation we started last night. I know I didn't do a very good job of reassuring you." Ardeth nodded, though he had no intention of picking up that conversation. Instead, they picked up the pace. Their destination was not far. It was his favorite childhood sanctuary, and a place Ardeth wanted to take Celia for many days.
Once they reached the oasis, Ardeth dismounted first, then helped Celia down, before leading her to a pool. Ardeth sat down, removing his turban. He told Celia, who sat down beside him, "When I was a child, this was my favorite place to play. It was quiet, for few others knew about it. Only my father and my mother. In fact, one of the last conversations I had with my father, was here." Celia said nothing, making herself more comfortable beside him.
Ardeth ran his fingers through his hair, saying softly, "I was thirteen years old, becoming interested in. . .well, you understand." He was rewarded with a warm smile, and continued, "My father realized this, and brought me here. He. . .he told me that this place was important to him and my mother. He paused, then said he was not certain if this was an appropriate conversation to have with his son, who would always be his little boy, but it was necessary."
Ardeth swallowed hard, remembering. He was oddly mature at thirteen, or so his mother said. Ardeth didn't know what that meant. He just knew that when Suleiman told him that he would always be his little boy, it was his way of telling Ardeth how much he loved him. Celia quietly took his hand and he continued, "You see, my Celia. . .this is where I was conceived. And this was where I had my last conversation with my father."
"What else did he tell you?" Celia asked softly, her eyes filled with a compassion which Ardeth found painful to see. She didn't pity him, he knew that. Ardeth knew the love of both of his parents, for his entire life. She knew her mother's love only at the end of Madeleine's life, and at the beginning of Miranda's. But there was compassion for words spoken and words never said. Something which she understood all too well.
"There are times, Celia, when you speak to your daughter, and say not a word, yes?" Ardeth asked. Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, "My father. . .I was too young to understand, but I held such a conversation with my father. He told me without words, how deeply he loved me. And do you know what is truly strange? I did not remember that last conversation with my father, until my mother told you stories of my childhood."
Her fingers tightened around his, and Ardeth looked down at their hands. Then he looked into her eyes, and saw only love there. He murmured, "I am afraid, Cecelia. I am so afraid that I will fail you. I cannot make you my first priority. . .that must be my people. I. . ."
She silenced him, her fingers on her free hand covering his lips, then answered, "I have been no one's priority for a long time, Ardeth. You know that. I can live with being your second or third priority. As long as you come back to me, that is all that matters. And speaking of failing someone. . .I'm afraid of failing you. As the unmarried women keep reminding me, I'm American, not Med-jai. There is so much I don't know. I'm afraid that I won't be a good wife."
It stunned him, that she worried about that. They were not yet married, and yet, she already found ways to take care of him. He whispered, pulling her fingers away from his lips to hold that hand as well, "You will find your place among the Med-jai, my Celia. That will come, as my people realize what your talents and skills are. But in the meantime. . . Do you not know how well you take care of me?" She looked away from him, and Ardeth released one of her hands to cup her chin.
"You take very good care of me already, my Celia. Even the warriors who resent you for being an American admit that, begrudgingly. Garai has told all the warriors about how you remind me to eat without saying a word," Ardeth replied. She blushed. Ardeth knew that his mother gave her the idea, but that wasn't the point. Celia brought a tray of food into the tent during a meeting with the Commanders two days before.
Not a word was said. . .she merely slipped into the tent, deposited the tray in the circle of men, and then left. The new commander of the Geban tribe, a man ten years older than Ardeth, inclined his head solemnly toward the American woman as she left the tent. The tray was placed in the middle of the men, allowing them all access. . .but the idea was to make sure Ardeth didn't go without food, as he often did. And it worked.
"I told you. . .that was your mother's idea," Celia told him. Ardeth didn't care. She was already finding ways to take care of him, and he often didn't realize it until much later. She was silent for several moments, then asked almost conversationally, "So. Do you want to beat the tar out of Rick O'Connell when we get back, or may I?" Ardeth laughed, wrapping his arm around her. She lay her head on his shoulder.
He whispered, "My Celia, it would give me great pleasure to see something so entertaining. Perhaps I could convince you to do that for our wedding ceremony?" He was rewarded with soft laughter, and her arms slipped around his waist. She tilted her head back until Ardeth's lips grazed her forehead, then finally her lips. For the next few moments, there was silence as they finally kissed each other properly.
When Ardeth pulled back, Celia smiled and said softly, "Hello, my love. I've missed you." He missed her. He kept reminding himself that soon, they would have forever. This time, she kissed him, and Ardeth sighed against her mouth. When he was with her. . . Ardeth pulled back, as something occurred to him. Celia frowned, asking, "Ardeth? What's wrong, darlin,' is something. . ." She never finished her sentence, for Ardeth kissed her again.
This time, he pulled back to whisper, "You are my sanctuary, Celia. I need not this oasis. Only to be with you." Ardeth struggled to find the words which properly explained his feelings, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Celia's eyes softened and he whispered, "Come. I will keep my word to your daughter, and leave the 'really grown up stuff' until our wedding night. But there is a different delight for us here." Celia grinned when he quoted her daughter.
Ardeth carefully removed his boots. Frowning curiously, Celia did the same, then her eyes strayed to the pool beside which they were sitting. Then her hazel eyes lit up, along with a second smile. Ardeth always knew his Celia was a smart one. Ardeth rolled his black trousers up to his knees, grateful that he was wearing his tunic, rather than his robes. Then he eased himself into the pool.
Celia found it more difficult, but he knew she would find a way. She did. She hiked up her skirt, until it was bunched at her waist, then pulled the excess material through the waistband. Of course. His Celia always found a way. She slid into the water, giving a little squeak which he found adorable. Then she frowned at him and said melodramatically, "It isn't fair!" Ardeth raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Celia pouted, "Your feet are even pretty! It isn't fair!"
More than a little confused, Ardeth looked down at his feet, then almost yelped in shock as Celia looped her fingers around his belt and yanked him toward her. She was a small woman, about a foot shorter than himself, but the element of surprise worked in her favor. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time. She whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rocked onto her toes to kiss him, "Gotcha."
Ardeth whispered before allowing himself to succumb to her kiss, "Yes, my Celia, you do have me." *And the gods willing, you always will,* he thought. Then there was no room for thought, only the passion which grew between them every day. This wasn't why he brought her here, but it was not such a bad activity for this place. Ardeth felt his father's presence from the moment he dismounted, and knew him to be pleased.
. . .
Altair said, when she first arrived at the Med-jai encampment after the battle with Khaldun, that she would find her place. Celia was aware that Altair was still cautious with her, but she could understand why. Ardeth had a difficult job as the Med-jai leader, and at times, Celia had a difficult time holding her tongue. It sometimes seemed that many of the Commanders were overgrown children.
She held her tongue, because she didn't know what else to do. And Altair, though wary, helped her. Perhaps she understood Celia's struggles to do right by her fiancé, and perhaps it was just one former outsider understanding how a new outsider saw things. In some ways, it was like small towns in the States. You were regarded with caution and even suspicion, because people had reason to be wary. It took time to establish trust. She earned Ardeth's trust, and the trust of his siblings. She just had to be patient.
Ardeth settled himself beside her, looking very tired, and Celia chose not to bring up the subject of their wedding. Instead, she scooted behind him, kneading his shoulders. He needed to relax and rest, not field her questions. Answers would come. She whispered, "Just rest, love. . .let me take care of you." There was the barest hint of a nod as she massaged his shoulders, and a soft gasp when her fingers found a knot.
*Let me take care of you.* Funny, how often she said that to Ardeth. The man who rescued everyone else, usually at the risk of his own life. It was becoming clear to her that she had quite a challenge ahead of her, but Celia didn't mind. He would be taking care of her as well, her and her daughter. As she told him repeatedly, it would be the first time in years that she was a priority to anyone.
Celia leaned forward and gently kissed the side of his head, murmuring, "I can see I'll have my hands full with taking care of you, m'love. Being stubborn may actually work in my favor." She felt, rather than heard, him laugh, and Celia kissed the side of his head again. She massaged the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. Ardeth murmured something, which sounded like 'papa,' and Celia wondered if she should ask.
However, it wasn't necessary, because she saw what he did. Celia stopped massaging Ardeth's shoulders. She knew from her fiancé that this was a special place. And she also knew, from Altair, that Ardeth bore a striking resemblance to his father. When Ardath and Celia were joined, Ardath did something which allowed Celia to see things that others could not. And now, she was seeing a man who looked much like Ardeth seated across the pool, a young boy at his side.
The marks were absent, but Celia knew he was a thirteen year old Ardeth. She was seeing her beloved, and his father, during the last time Suleiman Bey brought his son to this oasis. She could see how painfully earnest that boy was, his dark eyes focused on his father as if seeking some great secret. Or a wisdom just past the boy's understanding. Or maybe, what he truly sought was his father's love and approval, but was too young to know what to truly look for.
Celia studied the boy's face, seeing in him the man he would become. Her heart contracted. When he was thirteen years old, she was ten. Her grandfather was still alive, and often, Celia would take Jason to their grandparents' house when their father spun out of control. How different their lives were, hers and Ardeth's. The chieftain's son, now sitting beside his father in an oasis, and the daughter of a tycoon.
And yet, here they were. She wasn't sure she believed in destiny. She was raised to believe that people made their own destiny, and yet, how could she deny what she saw and experienced here in Egypt? How could she deny the way things came full circle at Hamunaptra, where everything, indeed, began? She couldn't. Any more than she could deny what she was seeing now the thirteen year old version of her beloved and his father.
The father whose resemblance to Ardeth took her breath away. There was more gray in the older chieftain's hair, but Suleiman was forty when he died. She knew Ardeth closely resembled his father, but it was different from seeing it for herself. The knowledge drove the air from her lungs, for she understood the reason for Altair's overprotectiveness toward Ardeth. To see your husband every time you looked at your son, and know that you might lose him in the exact same way. . .
How did Altair do it? How did she cope with that knowledge? Altair gave birth to three sons. . .Andreas, Ardeth, and Anatol. Three boys who would grow up to be warriors, more than likely. Celia knew that there were other Med-jai who were not warriors, such as Ardeth's late uncle Terrence. But, all three boys became warriors. Altair, who already buried her husband, buried her oldest son only four years later.
Though her relationship with her mother-in-law remained wary, Celia could appreciate her courage and her strength. How could she not, knowing what Celia knew about the Med-jai?
Altair daily faced the fear that she would lose her two remaining sons. How did she do it? And would Celia have that same courage, when the time came? Would she find it necessary to bury her husband and her son? Where would she find the courage she needed? Not for the first time, Celia wondered if she would be good enough for Ardeth when the time came. He wasn't the only one plagued by fear and self-doubts as their wedding approached.
Suleiman looked at her, his dark eyes filled with wisdom and sadness. He smiled, his son's smile, and inclined his head to her. Then his eyes shifted to his grown son. Celia could have cried, seeing the love and pride in that gaze. Love. . .pride. . . regret. She wasn't entirely certain about the reasons for that regret, but she could make a guess. Regret for missed opportunities, perhaps? Wasn't that often the way of it?
Suleiman looked back at Celia, and she didn't need to close her eyes to hear him in her soul. Years ago, Celia's grandmother observed that there were times when a woman got along with her father in law better than her mother in law. Annabelle didn't offer an explanation, but simply repeated it when her ten year old granddaughter asked again. It was just one of those things. So many years later, Celia understood that truth.
She heard Suleiman say, *Your own father regrets his missed opportunities, child. Like me, he has no second chances. So take the chances you have, with your daughter, with your brother, with Ardeth. Love my son. Take care of him. Believe in him. . .tell him each day that you believe in him, for that was one thing I never did. I should have done. Trust in him. I know you can do these things, for I have watched you.*
It almost frightened her, that this man was watching her. Suleiman gave her an impish smile, adding, *Be not afraid, little one. I can only see what you are doing, not what you are thinking about doing with my son.* Now Celia's face burned with embarassment, and Suleiman laughed. He continued, *We are a practical people, Cecelia Ferguson Bey. Such things are to be enjoyed, not a source of shame.*
She bowed her head, in acknowledgement and in gratitude. He called her 'Cecelia Ferguson Bey,' though she was not yet wed to his son. Which meant he accepted her as his son's wife. Then something else occurred to her. He spoke of her father. Yes. Her father's missed opportunities, and his regrets. She looked up at him sharply once more, to find a pleased smile now decorating his face.
*You learn quickly, beloved of my son. Yes. I spoke truly. Your father does regret many things, not the least of which was that he was never a good father to you or young Jason. That lack made you into the woman you are today, but he cannot forgive himself for that,* Suleiman told her. Celia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her father regretted things? Regretted things both done and not done?
A memory flashed through her mind. She was four or five years old, around the same age as Miranda. She was half-asleep in her grandmother's lap as her father ranted that he didn't know what to do with a girl. He wanted a son, not a daughter!
She shied away from that memory, even as she shied away from Suleiman's words. She was not ready to deal with the possibilities. Not ready to forgive her father, when she was still struggling to forgive Jason. She started in the now-buried Hamunaptra, yes, with his apology. But relations remained strained between the brother and sister, and Celia had no idea how to meet her brother halfway. Though he knew Ardeth was not their enemy, he still regarded Celia's fiancé with wariness and distrust.
*Give it time, little one,* Suleiman counseled, *your brother will find his way back to you, when he is ready. But for now, you have my son's heart in your hands. Take care with it. And should you ever need me, I will be there.* He stood, reaching his hand for his young son, and both disappeared. Celia found she had nothing to say, and instead, wrapped her arms around her intended. She had so much to think about. She only hoped that she had the time she needed.
. . .
Suleiman Bey supposed it could be said his appearance at the oasis was his way of welcoming Celia Ferguson to the family. Unlike his beloved wife, Suleiman had access to certain information about the girl who would be their daughter-in-law, about her family, and about the future. Like most in the Afterlife, Suleiman could see somewhat into the future. . .for in the Afterlife, the lines between past, present, and future blurred.
If he but closed his eyes, he could again feel the warm weight of his newborn son in his arms, and hear his wife's quiet declaration that she wanted to name him after Lady Ardath. He told her, when they were first married, that the young concubine's son was 'Ardeth.' At that time, Altair expressed a desire to name a child after either that young woman or her son, the first Med-jai chieftain. When Andreas was born, and she chose to name him after her father, Suleiman thought she forgot about her observation to him.
She forgot nothing. His young wife simply chose to name their second son after that mother and son. Lady Ardath and the first Ardeth Bey were analogous among the Med-jai to Isis and Horus, perhaps because they were also linked to Osiris. Or, because Horus and Isis were the chosen Guardians of the Med-jai people. They were so for many centuries, and Suleiman did nothing to change that, in spite of his father's desire for all Med-jai to convert to Islam.
There were Muslims among the Med-jai since the eighth century, as the Christians called it. Many of them were Sufis, and became scholars of the Med-jai, keeper of their secrets. But forty mortal years earlier, when Suleiman was just a young warrior, his father wished for all twelve tribes to be united under Islam. It would aid them in dealing with other tribes.
Some Med-jai did convert to Islam, and remained part of their nation. But Suleiman and Altair raised their five children to revere the ancient gods. Altair was originally Orthodox, until she married Suleiman, when she chose to rediscover the Greek gods and goddesses, many of whom were also revered among the Med-jai. Particularly in the Geban tribe, which was comprised mainly of Greco-Egyptians.
Med-jai history was pushed aside as Suleiman turned his attention back to his son. Aywa, Suleiman spent much time watching Ardeth. But this was the first time in twenty mortal years that he returned here. He cursed himself often for not speaking his heart. What a coward he was! Facing Imhotep's minions was so much easier than telling his young son how very much he loved him, and how proud he was of him.
And yet, despite Suleiman's own failures as a father, Ardeth knew how much his parents loved him. How was that possible? Certainly, his second son came to that truth as an adult, when he looked back over his life. It took him some time to understand what Suleiman said to him, but he understood. He understood better than Andreas ever did. And like his wife, it hurt Suleiman to see what Andreas would have done to the Med-jai.
Even at thirteen, Ardeth would have been a more fitting leader for the Med-jai than his eighteen year old brother. And yet, Suleiman knew that he could not have named his younger son as his heir. The Asu tribe alone would have never stood for it, when Ardeth was not yet a warrior. And it wasn't that Andreas led poorly, for the Med-jai didn't suffer terrible losses in the raids to protect Hamunaptra.
It was just that he was so impulsive! Suleiman couldn't fault his son for wanting to make Lock-nah pay for what he did to Acacia. But he could, and did, fault his son for the way he went about it. He did not heed his level-headed brother's words of caution, and got himself killed while Ardeth and Anatol watched in horror. That was the other thing he did wrong. He should have never taken a nine year old boy with him. Yes, Suleiman knew how badly Andreas could have hurt the Med-jai.
It hurt Andreas as well. Suleiman heard him cry out while Garai told the Med-jai of his dream, what would have come to pass if Andreas led the Med-jai during the first rising of Imhotep. For even as Garai related his dream, the gods ever so thoughtfully provided images to match the words. They watched in horror as Ardeth died in his older brother's arms, and Suleiman heard his older son weeping from the knowledge that his own arrogance would have cost his brother his life.
Andreas was always a good son, and a good brother. He was vehemently protective of his younger siblings, and when he went after Lock-nah, there was no hesitation. The renegade hurt his little sister, raped her. There was no room for forgiveness for such a despicable act. Unfortunately, he was young and hot-headed, as impulsive as his younger brother was serious. It was that impulsiveness which led to his death, which would have led to his brother's death, and the destruction of their people.
Andreas admitted that he was stupid, and sometimes shut down when he recalled his stupidity. Suleiman knew, for he heard his son's thoughts. The late chieftain heard Andreas rail against his stupidity, against the accident of birth which made him the first-born. He knew, just as well as Suleiman, that a thirteen year old chieftain would have never been accepted. And he knew that he should have never been a chieftain himself.
Suleiman asked, //So, what do you think of your new sister?// Andreas tore his eyes away from Ardeth with difficulty. Or rather, away from the sight of Ardeth kissing his fiancee. Suleiman's older son resembled a small boy at the moment, with his dark eyes very, very wide. Perhaps he was surprised by this new side of his little brother. Suleiman bit back a smile. Well, what did Andreas expect?
As was mentioned by more than one person, Ardeth *was* a very passionate young man. Then again, perhaps Suleiman had more time to become accustomed to that reality. He wasn't entirely sure which was more difficult. Knowing that his little boy grew up and become a man, or knowing that his little brother was no longer the child who followed him with dark, worshipful eyes. It should have been the former, but Andreas was a little strange in that respect. It wasn't hard for Suleiman, accepting that Terrence and Nassor grew into men with their own desires, but Andreas was another story entirely.
//Father, has she put a spell on him?// Andreas finally asked. Suleiman stared at his eldest son, and Andreas waved his hand toward the young couple, continuing, //Look at him, Father, he's not behaving like himself at all!// It was then, and only then, that Suleiman saw a mischievous light in his eldest son's eyes. The man cuffed his son lightly in the back of his head, as Andreas chortled, "Oh, Father! You should have seen the look on your face!"
Suleiman muttered a few curses under his breath, still glaring at his oldest, and Andreas continued, "It's high time my little brother stopped being so serious! It was starting to ruin his personality. I just wish he wasn't marrying an American." Suleiman shrugged, and Andreas continued, "On the other hand, Lady Ardath was from Europe originally, and she helped to create our bloodline. Maybe it's only fitting that another foreigner is her reincarnation."
"Celia will rise or fall as a Med-jai queen, based on her abilities and her own limitations. She needs the reminders of her past as much as your brother does. Not at all," Suleiman answered. He looked at his second son, whose memories of Ramseses were still foggy. He hoped that would remain so, but he knew better. After a moment, the former chieftain continued, "Fortunately, our women are willing to accept her, because she makes Ardeth happy. She still has much work to do with the rest of the Asu tribe, much less the rest of the Med-jai."
Andreas gave a mock gasp of shock, saying, "Father! You know we have no queens or kings!" Suleiman gave his son a Look, and the boy added, laughing, "And I thought Ardeth was too serious! That was a joke, Father, I knew what you meant." Suleiman shook his head, smiling faintly. Andreas looked back at his brother, adding, "I hope she doesn't distract him too much from his duties." He sounded serious this time, and a quick glance confirmed that he *was.*
Now Suleiman did laugh, saying, "My son! That is part of her job while taking care of your brother. She is supposed to distract him, else he will become overwhelmed. No, if we should fear anything, it should not be her influence where our sacred duty is concerned. And understand me, my son. Imhotep is no longer a threat, but Khaldun will be for quite some time. No, she will not intervene with Hamunaptra. Rather, she will make her voice known with O'Connell." Andreas just smirked.
"Father," he said, looking at the young woman with Ardeth, "perhaps I will come to like this little American Fury after all." Andreas looked back at him, his dark eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter, and added, "Can you imagine, Father, what she will do to O'Connell the first time he angers her?" Suleiman didn't have to imagine. He could see the somewhat immediate future. . .and he knew it wouldn't be a pretty sight.
. . .
As Andreas and Suleiman debated about the choices made and things to come, another brother was dealing with another set of problems. Some were more easily rectified than others. He made his decision weeks earlier, when he first found out that his sister would be marrying Ardeth Bey. He would not interact with the Med-jai people, and as soon as Celia was wed to her beloved chieftain, he would return to the United States. Jason Ferguson was uncomfortable with the Med-jai, uncomfortable with Egypt, and everything which happened over the last few months. Moreover, he was uncomfortable with the changes in his sister.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Jason was far more uncomfortable with the changes in himself. His possession at the hands of Khaldun opened doors that frightened him. Made him aware of things about himself that made him ashamed. He was so stupid, and while he and Celia spent the last few weeks rebuilding their deeply strained relationship, it would be a long time before Jason could forgive himself for his stupidity.
He almost got his sister killed. As they returned to the Med-jai camp, Jason learned that Celia almost died from heat exhaustion and dehydration. How many deaths did he cause? Khaldun used him to kill so many people. There were the five men sent after him. There were the three Med-jai who accompanied Ardeth to Hamunaptra, when Khaldun jumped from Jason to Ardeth.
And there were the four Med-jai who had sought answers about their brethren, who had also died. All told, that was twelve people dead, and there would have been more if Khaldun hadn't overreached himself. Jason meant, of course, his steps to resurrect Imhotep. The victim of the hom- dai, and possibly the only person who had any clue how Jason felt. It was only now, three thousand years later, that Imhotep was starting to grasp what sort of effects his actions had.
Not just for himself and Anck-su-namun, not just for the Med-jai, but for everyone whom Imhotep had loved in that time. He could have died, after Celia broke the hom-dai with Ardeth's blood and her own. He could have finally been at peace, but he chose to live instead. Jason wanted to know why. In Imhotep's position, Jason knew that he would have chosen death. And the high priest couldn't answer his question.
Just as Jason couldn't answer Imhotep's questions, about why he did such things to his own sister. Imhotep had a very hard time understanding that, and Jason couldn't explain how jealous he was of his sister. But, on the other hand, it seemed that jealousy was something which Imhotep understood quite well, for jealousy drove his hatred of Seti. So perhaps, they did understand each other after all.
Still, Jason watched him in silence as Imhotep struggled with this strange world. No longer was he interested in ruling it. . .just understanding it. Jason wished him luck. There were times when Jason himself didn't understand it, and he lived in this world for twenty-five years. He couldn't imagine the world of three thousand years earlier, so he was the last person to ask. Jason told him that, and Imhotep answered in his halting English, "Perhaps I should ask your sister to explain this time and place to me, then."
Jason found his latent protective instincts balking at that, the ones he found anew when Khaldun assumed control of his body, and Imhotep continued, looking almost amused, "Do not be afraid, child, for I have no wish to harm her. She broke the hom-dai, she freed me. I would never hurt her." Of course he wouldn't. Everyone knew what Anck-su-namun did to people who hurt the reincarnation of her best friend. Jason still fumed at being called a 'child,' but he could hardly argue with a man who was three thousand years older than himself.
Besides, Jason learned something very important while under Khaldun's control. A person could learn a great deal by keeping quiet, and watching others. Or, as Imhotep said when Jason told him, it was easier to learn when one's mouth was closed. After that remark, the young American wished Imhotep was his father. He learned more from the former mummy in a few weeks than from his own old man in years.
By listening and watching, Jason learned that Ardeth Bey and Jason's sister genuinely loved each other. Jason was still figuring that out, since they were groping toward a friendship before Jason's betrayal. However, he knew Celia felt safe with Ardeth Bey. Trust and common ground were very necessary ingredients to love. Somewhere between the bazaar and the final confrontations in Hamunaptra, trust and common ground gave way to love. It was not something which either of them sought. But it was there, and neither was about to let go of the other. Something which Jason saw for himself while trapped by Khaldun.
Then there was Miranda, who adored Ardeth. His niece trusted the Med- jai, felt safe with him, and she never felt safe with Jason. He never tried to make her feel safe, only unwanted. She needed a father. His sister did a swell job of taking care of herself, Jason, and Miranda. . .usually with nothing but grief from Jason, and now it was time for someone to take care of her. Jason wished she chose someone who could put her first.
However, Jason also knew that to say such a thing would result in a confrontation with either his sister or Evelyn O'Connell, neither of which he particularly wanted. The one time he insulted Ardeth Bey, the Englishwoman pulled on his ear. The next time, she would probably box his ears, and Jason had no intention of giving her that opportunity. Instead, he silently made himself a promise to take care of his sister in any way he could.
One thing was sure. His days as a spoiled brat were over. He was through being a spoiled brat, through taking his sister for granted, and through with being a hanger-on. He simply didn't have the energy to behave as he had, nor did he have the strength to endure the consequences. Because Jason understood this, above all else. He almost pushed his sister too far, and only one thing prevented him from destroying everything.
He did not want to try her patience further, and that meant he also kept his mouth shut about the amount of time she spent with Ardeth. He shared this observation about this with Imhotep as well, and got a grunted affirmative. It seemed Imhotep was having a hard time accepting what his eyes told him, that Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend, Ramseses. Then again, Jason supposed it was difficult to accept that your best friend was reincarnated as your worst enemy, your nightmare come true.
While Imhotep spent more time with the Ferguson siblings than with anyone else, that didn't stop Celia from playing kissy-face with her fiancé when she did have a few free moments with him. Only a few minutes earlier, Jason saw them ride out of the village together. More than once, he silently echoed the request for them to 'get a room,' as expressed by O'Connell. It was damned annoying, watching them kiss all the time, and it was downright disgusting to see Celia's expression when a kiss was broken.
What was worse was the shame he always felt, as soon as that thought crossed his mind. Celia was happy. Why wasn't that good enough for him? Why did it stick in his throat, that it was a man like Ardeth Bey who made his sister so happy, and a man like Leslie Carstairs who had betrayed her? Why did it sicken him to see Celia's face light up when she saw Ardeth? Jason knew the answers, of course. And it made him feel worse.
He was jealous. And that was the final reason he was returning to Chicago once his sister was married. It wasn't just because he didn't feel like he belonged here, though that was certainly a part of that. But he didn't like feeling the way he did whenever he looked at Ardeth, knowing how his sister felt about the man. Jason had been humbled, by Ardeth's courage and determination, but he was still damn jealous of the man's power and simply being.
He had to accept his sister's choice, but he didn't like it, and he didn't like the man. Yes, even after the chieftain had almost died, he still didn't like Ardeth Bey. He probably never would, no matter how many times the chieftain put his life on the line for Jason's sister and niece. But as he had for the last several weeks, Jason pulled back. He hadn't fully dealt with what happened inside Hamunaptra, a place which he never wanted to see again. He wasn't ready to do that.
Yeah, he was definitely a coward. He never claimed otherwise. He was not like Celia, whose quiet courage and strength allowed her to rise to the occasion. She was in the middle of being kidnapped in the bazaar, and managed to shout a warning to Ardeth Bey. That still boggled Jason's mind, even months later. He was not like Ardeth Bey, who overcame injury after injury to face Khaldun. Jason witnessed the battle on the spiritual plane between Khaldun and Ardeth. The dual defeats allowed Jason to retake control of his body and restore his soul.
No, he didn't like Ardeth Bey in the least. But Jason couldn't deny that as long as the man drew breath, Jason's sister and niece would be all right. Ardeth would protect them, protect them as Jason never could. Never tried to, if you came right down to it, but Jason wasn't ready to face that, either. Instead, he silently prayed that even as the chieftain took care of Celia and Miranda, he would also cherish them for always, as he did now.
. . .
The last few weeks of mortal time were fascinating for Mathayus, even without the additional entertainment provided by Anck-su-namun. He watched as Ardeth Bey started his recovery, as the Med-jai Elders agreed to accept Celia Ferguson as Ardeth's wife and as the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. He was not permitted to intervene directly, but with his recent aid against Khaldun, he was given leave to help in other ways.
One such way was sending dreams to the Med-jai elders who were the most skeptical that one of their greatest heroines would be reborn as an American. Interestingly enough, the elders who were most skeptical were the ones who revered Lady Ardath the most. That aggravated Anck-su-namun to no small degree, and it took all of the combined will of both Mathayus and Ma'at to keep the fiery concubine from going after the elders as well.
Besides, it was unnecessary, especially after she dropped the tent on the maiden who spit on Celia's boots. The elders quickly realized that Anck-su-namun was as protective of Ardath's reincarnation as she was of Ardath herself. Between that, and all the other evidence, they were finally convinced. Much to the Scorpion King's relief, because if they delayed much longer, they might have found themselves gifted with a visit from Anck-su-namun herself.
Which was not something they would have enjoyed. On the other hand, Mathayus thought he might have enjoyed such a confrontation. Anck-su-namun was not a woman who suffered fools gladly, and she considered the Med-jai elders to be fools. And at this point, people were divided into two categories for Anck-su-namun. Those who treated Celia with kindness and those who did not. He supposed he should be grateful that Imhotep kept to himself. Things could have become unpleasant.
Not that things were easy on that front, as of late. Not at all. But Mathayus knew that both men were trying. Ardeth had thirty years of fear to overcome, and Imhotep had three thousand years worth of fear and hatred. It would not be easy for either man to overcome the past. But he was pleased to see that just as he and Balthasar overcame their mutual distrust, so too were Imhotep and Ardeth making the attempt, and that was always a place to begin. He almost felt sorry for Imhotep, for a variety of reasons.
First, Imhotep learned that his best friend had been reborn as his enemy. That was bad enough, but he next found out that Lady Ardath never forgave him for breaking his promise to watch over Ramseses. Following that was the knowledge that the young concubine wasn't as sweet and spineless as he thought. Yes, he received indications to that shortly before her death, but he never realized how vengeful she could be. Mathayus grinned, recalling Imhotep's face during that confrontation.
Looking back over the last few weeks of mortal time, Mathayus remembered something Ma'at told him, when he marveled at the changes in Celia, in Anck-su-namun, and in Imhotep. It was only moments before Altair Bey told her son about the decision of the elders. Ma'at smiled. . .he could feel her smile in his heart. . .and replied, **My dear Scorpion King, the Americans have a wonderful saying for this situation. You ain't seen nothin' yet!**
Indeed. There were other things to draw his attention, namely the changes in Ardeth and Celia. Falling in love was easy. Building their relationship, especially given the adjustments which they were both making, was much more difficult. At least they had a friendship to form that basis, instead of simple chemistry. Though his own relationship with Cassandra started out as simple chemistry, they were among the fortunate ones, and Mathayus knew it.
Wagering on any relationship was a foolish thing to do. There were so many things which determined the outcome of a person's life. He himself was living. . .or dead. . .proof of that. Who would have believed, five thousand years ago, that the young and compassionate king who showed such promise would end his life as a bloodthirsty tyrant? For him, the loss of his Cassandra began his unraveling.
He did not blame Cassandra. She died saving his life. He blamed himself, and none others, for what he became. Not even the murderers who took his wife from him. It was he who chose his path. Mathayus only hoped that one day, his beloved wife would forgive him as quickly as Ardath forgave her Rameses. Perhaps one day, once he earned his second chance at life, he would be reincarnated and find his sorceress queen.
He would not give up hope. After all, Rameses was eventually reborn as Ardeth Bey, and he found his beloved in this lifetime. It was that example which gave Mathayus hope. If Rameses could be forgiven in time, then so could Mathayus. Once he atoned for his bargain with Anubis, once he proved himself worthy of a second chance in the World of the Living. . .well, they would see. He heard Ma'at say once that humans punished themselves more than any god ever could. He and Rameses demonstrated that truth as few mortals could.
Returning his attention to the young mortal couple, Mathayus knew neither had an easy life, so neither knew how to give up. However, even with that, Celia's patience was running out. It would only take a few attacks against herself, or one more attack against her daughter, then all hell would break loose. Unbeknownst to O'Connell, after Celia and Ardeth calmed down Miranda and explained why the children were so mean to her, Ardeth spent another two hours calming down Celia. That was difficult for him. Mathayus knew it took all of his self-control to keep from flaying alive the warriors who were so thoughtless around their children.
And in the end, justice was restored in a manner of speaking. Now, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the parents and the cruelty of the children, Darius and Damara Bey refused to play with those children, or anyone else who was unkind to their soon-to-be cousin. And no amount of coaxing on Acacia's part could induce either child to back down, nor did the repeated attempts of the mothers of those children to talk sense into the determined nephew and fiery little niece of their chieftain have any effect.
It was amusing to watch that woman try to tell Altair that Darius and Damara were wrong for taking Miranda's side. Regardless of how Altair herself felt about Celia, the matriarch made no secret that she adored her new granddaughter. The stupid woman made no headway with Altair, even as Acacia tried to convince her children that the best way to help Miranda was by playing with those children. She got nowhere as well.
Ardeth did nothing, aside from warn those warriors to be more mindful of their tongues around their wives and their children. However, Anck-su- namun wasn't nearly as benevolent as the chieftain. The mother of two of those children felt the full force of Anck's rage when she insulted Celia, with a series of unexplained little incidents which happened when no one else was around. Mathayus wasn't watching, and Ma'at wouldn't tell him what happened. Which meant he probably didn't *want* to know.
The woman still hadn't learned, and in all likelihood, it would take action on Celia's part before she did learn. Unfortunately, there were bullies in the modern Med-jai as well. And many of them were women. Worse, they were incapable of understanding the consequences. They were attacking the woman whom their chieftain loved. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of patience, and took action himself.
This would be a very *bad* thing to happen, because it would not induce these women to accept Celia. It would, however, force them to understand that Ardeth would not accept such behavior toward his wife. For that reason, Mathayus rather hoped that the young man would lose patience quickly, because he realized that by doing nothing, Ardeth was quietly condoning the way these women treated his intended.
. . .Or not. There was also the matter of Ardeth's own sisters, his younger brother, and his mother. Altair remained wary of Celia, as any mother would be, but quietly supported her future daughter-in-law nonetheless. Acacia and Aleta's friends reached out to the quiet American, and found their tentative efforts repaid. Perhaps, then, Ardeth was doing the right thing by allowing his future wife to deal with this on her own.
The trick would be in convincing Ardeth of that. Mathayus knew he wasn't the man for that job. In these final days before Ardeth's wedding, Mathayus could see clearly why Ardeth never allowed himself to fall in love before. This was the very thing which he feared. And so, he shut off his heart. Mathayus could do nothing to help him, nothing aside from providing support. And that seemed like nothing.
But one of the most important things he learned since Ma'at reclaimed his soul from Anubis was that things were often not what they seemed. He tried to remember that, and tried to remember, too, that support was so important. Especially for a man like Ardeth Bey, who was used to doing things by himself. There were some tasks which no one could do for the chieftain. He had to do those things himself. And it was then that Ardeth needed the most support. When those times came, Mathayus would be there.
Deana: Trust me, up until the day she died, Ardath knew how lucky she was. And when she gets older, Miranda will realize how lucky she is, too!
Sailor Elf: Hello and welcome! Ardeth is VERY handsome, isn't he? I often tell my best friend that the man is my idea of the ultimate romantic hero.
Cindy: Then you'll really enjoy this. . .there's a lot more of Ardeth, Celia and Miranda interacting as a family!
Nefertirioc: Well, hello there and welcome back! Is this soon enough, in terms of updating? I'm honestly not sure how much of a chance I'll have to update this week, since my brother, sister-in-law and sixteen year old nephew will be in. Fortunately, this is a much shorter story than 'The Forever Friends.' We're almost halfway through it already, and I'm working on the third story in the series, called 'What Might Have Been.'
Part Two
Ardeth Bey thoroughly enjoyed the last hour. Not only was he spending time with Miranda, but he was teaching her to ride. Such lessons provided him with some of his best childhood memories, for his father taught him to ride. He hoped Miranda would have similar memories as an adult. Beforehand, he requested Celia's permission. While Ardeth loved Miranda as if she was his, he was not yet her father in legal terms.
As Ardeth drew the stallion to a halt, Hanif approached. The young Med-jai held out his arms for the little girl, a smile appearing as the child told him about riding in the desert, how pretty the horse was, and they saw her Uncle Rick. Hanif did not laugh through the child's narrative. But he almost lost his composure when Miranda mentioned seeing Rick O'Connell. Though things improved between the Carnahan-O'Connell clan and the Med-jai, many warriors still had little use for the American. . .including Hanif.
"Is my bride with my sisters and mother?" Ardeth asked the young warrior, holding out his arms to Miranda. Hanif inclined his head, returning the little girl to the chieftain. With a smile, Ardeth flipped the little girl in mid-air, making her laugh, then set her atop his shoulders. Ardeth continued, "My thanks, Hanif. . . Miranda and I shall see to her mother." Once more, Hanif inclined his head, a smile appearing, then Ardeth headed toward his mother's tent.
He knew better than to barge in. Rather, he knocked on the tent pole and waited until his mother beckoned him inside. Ardeth swung Miranda from his shoulders and ducked into the tent. As he did, he had the pleasure of seeing his Celia smile at him. Now that he had a wife. . .or would soon. . . Ardeth understood the reluctance of O'Connell to leave her. Ardeth smiled back and asked, "I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of Celia's company, Mother?"
"Of course. . .so long as you take Miranda with you as a chaperone," his mother answered serenely. If she expected an argument, she was mistaken. Ardeth merely held out his hand to his intended, and Ardeth's mother added, "Go, child. Acacia can do the work for a while. You need a break." Celia put down her sewing and took Ardeth's hand, with Miranda holding onto his other. Together, the family stepped into the heat of the Saharan afternoon.
Celia swung Miranda into her arms, settling her on her hip as she walked beside Ardeth. He was still trying to believe that this was happening to him. When he stopped and thought about the changes in his life during the last few months, it took his breath away. As did the love he felt for this woman and this child. Ardeth smiled, listening as Miranda excitedly told Celia about riding the horse and all of their adventures that day.
The adults said nothing, simply walked hand in hand. Eventually, after Miranda wound down, Celia began to tell her daughter about what they would be doing for the wedding. As the little girl began nodding off, Ardeth said softly, "I think perhaps it is time the little one took another nap. Would you mind terribly, Miranda, if I spend time alone with your mother?" Miranda lifted her head sleepily from Celia's shoulder.
"You aren't gonna do really grown-up stuff?" she asked somewhat suspiciously. Ardeth and Celia exchanged a look, Ardeth seeing his own question reflected in Celia's eyes. Really grown up stuff? Miranda continued, "I mean, you're just gonna kiss, right? 'Cause Uncle Rick says. . ." Her voice trailed off, her eyes switching from one adult to the other.
"No, honey, we'll probably talk more than anything else. Ardeth needs to tell me some things about the wedding ceremony and stuff like that," Celia said, quietly reassuring her daughter. Over the little girl's head, Celia mouthed, 'tell you in a few minutes.' Ardeth nodded. Yes. And then he would have a few things to say to O'Connell about watching his mouth around his daughter! Ardeth stopped mentally and realized what he just thought.
But Miranda's words distracted him, as the little girl said, "Oh. That's different, then. Mommy, can I go back to Damara's tent?" Celia shook her head, and Miranda asked, a slight whine in her voice, "But why not?" Ardeth didn't see Celia's face, but he did see Miranda's. He could handle evil of all sorts, but he was a pushover with Miranda.
"No, Miranda Christabel. . .she's asleep. She was getting very cranky and needed her nap," Celia answered in a quiet, firm voice. Her 'Mum' voice, Jonathan called it, adding that it always made him check and see if his hands were clean. Garai's answer was that it was the same tone Ardeth employed when his patience with a recalcitrant warrior was running thin. Which raised questions in Ardeth's mind; however, those questions could wait for an answer.
And as it always did with those warriors, the tone did its job on the little girl. Miranda looked over at him expectantly, as if she knew how easy it would be to wrap him around her little pinky finger. Ardeth gazed back silently, hoping she didn't push further. His wish was granted. Miranda fell silent, leaning her head back against Celia's shoulder, and asked, "Then can I stay with Aunt Evy and Gramma Altair?"
"I think we could arrange that," came Celia's reply. She grinned up at Ardeth, and the chieftain had the uneasy sense that his intended knew exactly what he was thinking. Uneasy, because he was still unused to someone aside from his mother or siblings reading him that well. The pair returned Miranda to Ardeth's mother, who was quite happy about having another granddaughter to spoil rotten.
His mother accepted the sleepy little girl with a knowing smile. Ardeth blushed as she whispered, "At last, my middle son sneaks off to enjoy time with a young lady. I worried about you, my Ardeth." Celia made a strange noise, but when he looked at her, she was only smiling faintly. He eyed her suspiciously. . .she looked too innocent for his liking. Like one of his sisters, after they pulled a prank. But he could question her later.
"We shall return later, Mother," he replied. What else could he say? His mother only nodded, stroking Miranda's hair as the little girl snuggled against her. With what remained of his dignity, the chieftain rose to his feet and held out his hand to Celia. She took it, then they left the tent. Ardeth did not release her hand as they walked toward the corral. He learned that Celia was inexperienced on horses. . .but she was learning.
In silence, they each prepared their horses, but the silence felt neither heavy nor strained. No words needed to be expressed, and Celia felt no need to fill the silence with unimportant things. It was only after they had both mounted, and he looked at her for the third time, that she finally asked, "Ardeth, what's bothering you? Is it what we talked about last night? And if nothing's bothering you, why are you constantly looking at me?"
For a split second, Ardeth thought about making a flippant remark. It was what O'Connell would have done. However, that wasn't whom he was, and it wasn't whom she was. And Ardeth could only give her the truth. He answered, "I spent my entire life looking for you, without realizing I was looking. I wish to make sure that you are real, my Celia. That you are real, and that I am alive."
She looked at him, murmuring, "Ardeth, I am as real as you are. I'll not leave you." Ardeth ducked his head, nudging his horse forward. The pair were silent as they cantered through the gate of the corral. Once they were away from the camp, Celia put her hand on his thigh and said, "I know you're afraid you won't be a good father, or a good husband, but you'll be fine. I have faith in you." Ardeth freed one hand from the reins to take Celia's hand. As much as he loved this woman, he was afraid he wouldn't be a good husband. He had twelve tribes to lead.
When would he have time to spend with Celia and their children? What was he thinking, marrying a woman, no matter how much he loved her? Yes, he had his obligation to the Med-jai, providing heirs and training the next generation. But. . . Ardeth's train of thought was stopped when Celia's hand slipped out of his, coming to rest on his thigh once more. She said softly, "I think we should finish the conversation we started last night. I know I didn't do a very good job of reassuring you." Ardeth nodded, though he had no intention of picking up that conversation. Instead, they picked up the pace. Their destination was not far. It was his favorite childhood sanctuary, and a place Ardeth wanted to take Celia for many days.
Once they reached the oasis, Ardeth dismounted first, then helped Celia down, before leading her to a pool. Ardeth sat down, removing his turban. He told Celia, who sat down beside him, "When I was a child, this was my favorite place to play. It was quiet, for few others knew about it. Only my father and my mother. In fact, one of the last conversations I had with my father, was here." Celia said nothing, making herself more comfortable beside him.
Ardeth ran his fingers through his hair, saying softly, "I was thirteen years old, becoming interested in. . .well, you understand." He was rewarded with a warm smile, and continued, "My father realized this, and brought me here. He. . .he told me that this place was important to him and my mother. He paused, then said he was not certain if this was an appropriate conversation to have with his son, who would always be his little boy, but it was necessary."
Ardeth swallowed hard, remembering. He was oddly mature at thirteen, or so his mother said. Ardeth didn't know what that meant. He just knew that when Suleiman told him that he would always be his little boy, it was his way of telling Ardeth how much he loved him. Celia quietly took his hand and he continued, "You see, my Celia. . .this is where I was conceived. And this was where I had my last conversation with my father."
"What else did he tell you?" Celia asked softly, her eyes filled with a compassion which Ardeth found painful to see. She didn't pity him, he knew that. Ardeth knew the love of both of his parents, for his entire life. She knew her mother's love only at the end of Madeleine's life, and at the beginning of Miranda's. But there was compassion for words spoken and words never said. Something which she understood all too well.
"There are times, Celia, when you speak to your daughter, and say not a word, yes?" Ardeth asked. Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, "My father. . .I was too young to understand, but I held such a conversation with my father. He told me without words, how deeply he loved me. And do you know what is truly strange? I did not remember that last conversation with my father, until my mother told you stories of my childhood."
Her fingers tightened around his, and Ardeth looked down at their hands. Then he looked into her eyes, and saw only love there. He murmured, "I am afraid, Cecelia. I am so afraid that I will fail you. I cannot make you my first priority. . .that must be my people. I. . ."
She silenced him, her fingers on her free hand covering his lips, then answered, "I have been no one's priority for a long time, Ardeth. You know that. I can live with being your second or third priority. As long as you come back to me, that is all that matters. And speaking of failing someone. . .I'm afraid of failing you. As the unmarried women keep reminding me, I'm American, not Med-jai. There is so much I don't know. I'm afraid that I won't be a good wife."
It stunned him, that she worried about that. They were not yet married, and yet, she already found ways to take care of him. He whispered, pulling her fingers away from his lips to hold that hand as well, "You will find your place among the Med-jai, my Celia. That will come, as my people realize what your talents and skills are. But in the meantime. . . Do you not know how well you take care of me?" She looked away from him, and Ardeth released one of her hands to cup her chin.
"You take very good care of me already, my Celia. Even the warriors who resent you for being an American admit that, begrudgingly. Garai has told all the warriors about how you remind me to eat without saying a word," Ardeth replied. She blushed. Ardeth knew that his mother gave her the idea, but that wasn't the point. Celia brought a tray of food into the tent during a meeting with the Commanders two days before.
Not a word was said. . .she merely slipped into the tent, deposited the tray in the circle of men, and then left. The new commander of the Geban tribe, a man ten years older than Ardeth, inclined his head solemnly toward the American woman as she left the tent. The tray was placed in the middle of the men, allowing them all access. . .but the idea was to make sure Ardeth didn't go without food, as he often did. And it worked.
"I told you. . .that was your mother's idea," Celia told him. Ardeth didn't care. She was already finding ways to take care of him, and he often didn't realize it until much later. She was silent for several moments, then asked almost conversationally, "So. Do you want to beat the tar out of Rick O'Connell when we get back, or may I?" Ardeth laughed, wrapping his arm around her. She lay her head on his shoulder.
He whispered, "My Celia, it would give me great pleasure to see something so entertaining. Perhaps I could convince you to do that for our wedding ceremony?" He was rewarded with soft laughter, and her arms slipped around his waist. She tilted her head back until Ardeth's lips grazed her forehead, then finally her lips. For the next few moments, there was silence as they finally kissed each other properly.
When Ardeth pulled back, Celia smiled and said softly, "Hello, my love. I've missed you." He missed her. He kept reminding himself that soon, they would have forever. This time, she kissed him, and Ardeth sighed against her mouth. When he was with her. . . Ardeth pulled back, as something occurred to him. Celia frowned, asking, "Ardeth? What's wrong, darlin,' is something. . ." She never finished her sentence, for Ardeth kissed her again.
This time, he pulled back to whisper, "You are my sanctuary, Celia. I need not this oasis. Only to be with you." Ardeth struggled to find the words which properly explained his feelings, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Celia's eyes softened and he whispered, "Come. I will keep my word to your daughter, and leave the 'really grown up stuff' until our wedding night. But there is a different delight for us here." Celia grinned when he quoted her daughter.
Ardeth carefully removed his boots. Frowning curiously, Celia did the same, then her eyes strayed to the pool beside which they were sitting. Then her hazel eyes lit up, along with a second smile. Ardeth always knew his Celia was a smart one. Ardeth rolled his black trousers up to his knees, grateful that he was wearing his tunic, rather than his robes. Then he eased himself into the pool.
Celia found it more difficult, but he knew she would find a way. She did. She hiked up her skirt, until it was bunched at her waist, then pulled the excess material through the waistband. Of course. His Celia always found a way. She slid into the water, giving a little squeak which he found adorable. Then she frowned at him and said melodramatically, "It isn't fair!" Ardeth raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Celia pouted, "Your feet are even pretty! It isn't fair!"
More than a little confused, Ardeth looked down at his feet, then almost yelped in shock as Celia looped her fingers around his belt and yanked him toward her. She was a small woman, about a foot shorter than himself, but the element of surprise worked in her favor. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time. She whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rocked onto her toes to kiss him, "Gotcha."
Ardeth whispered before allowing himself to succumb to her kiss, "Yes, my Celia, you do have me." *And the gods willing, you always will,* he thought. Then there was no room for thought, only the passion which grew between them every day. This wasn't why he brought her here, but it was not such a bad activity for this place. Ardeth felt his father's presence from the moment he dismounted, and knew him to be pleased.
. . .
Altair said, when she first arrived at the Med-jai encampment after the battle with Khaldun, that she would find her place. Celia was aware that Altair was still cautious with her, but she could understand why. Ardeth had a difficult job as the Med-jai leader, and at times, Celia had a difficult time holding her tongue. It sometimes seemed that many of the Commanders were overgrown children.
She held her tongue, because she didn't know what else to do. And Altair, though wary, helped her. Perhaps she understood Celia's struggles to do right by her fiancé, and perhaps it was just one former outsider understanding how a new outsider saw things. In some ways, it was like small towns in the States. You were regarded with caution and even suspicion, because people had reason to be wary. It took time to establish trust. She earned Ardeth's trust, and the trust of his siblings. She just had to be patient.
Ardeth settled himself beside her, looking very tired, and Celia chose not to bring up the subject of their wedding. Instead, she scooted behind him, kneading his shoulders. He needed to relax and rest, not field her questions. Answers would come. She whispered, "Just rest, love. . .let me take care of you." There was the barest hint of a nod as she massaged his shoulders, and a soft gasp when her fingers found a knot.
*Let me take care of you.* Funny, how often she said that to Ardeth. The man who rescued everyone else, usually at the risk of his own life. It was becoming clear to her that she had quite a challenge ahead of her, but Celia didn't mind. He would be taking care of her as well, her and her daughter. As she told him repeatedly, it would be the first time in years that she was a priority to anyone.
Celia leaned forward and gently kissed the side of his head, murmuring, "I can see I'll have my hands full with taking care of you, m'love. Being stubborn may actually work in my favor." She felt, rather than heard, him laugh, and Celia kissed the side of his head again. She massaged the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. Ardeth murmured something, which sounded like 'papa,' and Celia wondered if she should ask.
However, it wasn't necessary, because she saw what he did. Celia stopped massaging Ardeth's shoulders. She knew from her fiancé that this was a special place. And she also knew, from Altair, that Ardeth bore a striking resemblance to his father. When Ardath and Celia were joined, Ardath did something which allowed Celia to see things that others could not. And now, she was seeing a man who looked much like Ardeth seated across the pool, a young boy at his side.
The marks were absent, but Celia knew he was a thirteen year old Ardeth. She was seeing her beloved, and his father, during the last time Suleiman Bey brought his son to this oasis. She could see how painfully earnest that boy was, his dark eyes focused on his father as if seeking some great secret. Or a wisdom just past the boy's understanding. Or maybe, what he truly sought was his father's love and approval, but was too young to know what to truly look for.
Celia studied the boy's face, seeing in him the man he would become. Her heart contracted. When he was thirteen years old, she was ten. Her grandfather was still alive, and often, Celia would take Jason to their grandparents' house when their father spun out of control. How different their lives were, hers and Ardeth's. The chieftain's son, now sitting beside his father in an oasis, and the daughter of a tycoon.
And yet, here they were. She wasn't sure she believed in destiny. She was raised to believe that people made their own destiny, and yet, how could she deny what she saw and experienced here in Egypt? How could she deny the way things came full circle at Hamunaptra, where everything, indeed, began? She couldn't. Any more than she could deny what she was seeing now the thirteen year old version of her beloved and his father.
The father whose resemblance to Ardeth took her breath away. There was more gray in the older chieftain's hair, but Suleiman was forty when he died. She knew Ardeth closely resembled his father, but it was different from seeing it for herself. The knowledge drove the air from her lungs, for she understood the reason for Altair's overprotectiveness toward Ardeth. To see your husband every time you looked at your son, and know that you might lose him in the exact same way. . .
How did Altair do it? How did she cope with that knowledge? Altair gave birth to three sons. . .Andreas, Ardeth, and Anatol. Three boys who would grow up to be warriors, more than likely. Celia knew that there were other Med-jai who were not warriors, such as Ardeth's late uncle Terrence. But, all three boys became warriors. Altair, who already buried her husband, buried her oldest son only four years later.
Though her relationship with her mother-in-law remained wary, Celia could appreciate her courage and her strength. How could she not, knowing what Celia knew about the Med-jai?
Altair daily faced the fear that she would lose her two remaining sons. How did she do it? And would Celia have that same courage, when the time came? Would she find it necessary to bury her husband and her son? Where would she find the courage she needed? Not for the first time, Celia wondered if she would be good enough for Ardeth when the time came. He wasn't the only one plagued by fear and self-doubts as their wedding approached.
Suleiman looked at her, his dark eyes filled with wisdom and sadness. He smiled, his son's smile, and inclined his head to her. Then his eyes shifted to his grown son. Celia could have cried, seeing the love and pride in that gaze. Love. . .pride. . . regret. She wasn't entirely certain about the reasons for that regret, but she could make a guess. Regret for missed opportunities, perhaps? Wasn't that often the way of it?
Suleiman looked back at Celia, and she didn't need to close her eyes to hear him in her soul. Years ago, Celia's grandmother observed that there were times when a woman got along with her father in law better than her mother in law. Annabelle didn't offer an explanation, but simply repeated it when her ten year old granddaughter asked again. It was just one of those things. So many years later, Celia understood that truth.
She heard Suleiman say, *Your own father regrets his missed opportunities, child. Like me, he has no second chances. So take the chances you have, with your daughter, with your brother, with Ardeth. Love my son. Take care of him. Believe in him. . .tell him each day that you believe in him, for that was one thing I never did. I should have done. Trust in him. I know you can do these things, for I have watched you.*
It almost frightened her, that this man was watching her. Suleiman gave her an impish smile, adding, *Be not afraid, little one. I can only see what you are doing, not what you are thinking about doing with my son.* Now Celia's face burned with embarassment, and Suleiman laughed. He continued, *We are a practical people, Cecelia Ferguson Bey. Such things are to be enjoyed, not a source of shame.*
She bowed her head, in acknowledgement and in gratitude. He called her 'Cecelia Ferguson Bey,' though she was not yet wed to his son. Which meant he accepted her as his son's wife. Then something else occurred to her. He spoke of her father. Yes. Her father's missed opportunities, and his regrets. She looked up at him sharply once more, to find a pleased smile now decorating his face.
*You learn quickly, beloved of my son. Yes. I spoke truly. Your father does regret many things, not the least of which was that he was never a good father to you or young Jason. That lack made you into the woman you are today, but he cannot forgive himself for that,* Suleiman told her. Celia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her father regretted things? Regretted things both done and not done?
A memory flashed through her mind. She was four or five years old, around the same age as Miranda. She was half-asleep in her grandmother's lap as her father ranted that he didn't know what to do with a girl. He wanted a son, not a daughter!
She shied away from that memory, even as she shied away from Suleiman's words. She was not ready to deal with the possibilities. Not ready to forgive her father, when she was still struggling to forgive Jason. She started in the now-buried Hamunaptra, yes, with his apology. But relations remained strained between the brother and sister, and Celia had no idea how to meet her brother halfway. Though he knew Ardeth was not their enemy, he still regarded Celia's fiancé with wariness and distrust.
*Give it time, little one,* Suleiman counseled, *your brother will find his way back to you, when he is ready. But for now, you have my son's heart in your hands. Take care with it. And should you ever need me, I will be there.* He stood, reaching his hand for his young son, and both disappeared. Celia found she had nothing to say, and instead, wrapped her arms around her intended. She had so much to think about. She only hoped that she had the time she needed.
. . .
Suleiman Bey supposed it could be said his appearance at the oasis was his way of welcoming Celia Ferguson to the family. Unlike his beloved wife, Suleiman had access to certain information about the girl who would be their daughter-in-law, about her family, and about the future. Like most in the Afterlife, Suleiman could see somewhat into the future. . .for in the Afterlife, the lines between past, present, and future blurred.
If he but closed his eyes, he could again feel the warm weight of his newborn son in his arms, and hear his wife's quiet declaration that she wanted to name him after Lady Ardath. He told her, when they were first married, that the young concubine's son was 'Ardeth.' At that time, Altair expressed a desire to name a child after either that young woman or her son, the first Med-jai chieftain. When Andreas was born, and she chose to name him after her father, Suleiman thought she forgot about her observation to him.
She forgot nothing. His young wife simply chose to name their second son after that mother and son. Lady Ardath and the first Ardeth Bey were analogous among the Med-jai to Isis and Horus, perhaps because they were also linked to Osiris. Or, because Horus and Isis were the chosen Guardians of the Med-jai people. They were so for many centuries, and Suleiman did nothing to change that, in spite of his father's desire for all Med-jai to convert to Islam.
There were Muslims among the Med-jai since the eighth century, as the Christians called it. Many of them were Sufis, and became scholars of the Med-jai, keeper of their secrets. But forty mortal years earlier, when Suleiman was just a young warrior, his father wished for all twelve tribes to be united under Islam. It would aid them in dealing with other tribes.
Some Med-jai did convert to Islam, and remained part of their nation. But Suleiman and Altair raised their five children to revere the ancient gods. Altair was originally Orthodox, until she married Suleiman, when she chose to rediscover the Greek gods and goddesses, many of whom were also revered among the Med-jai. Particularly in the Geban tribe, which was comprised mainly of Greco-Egyptians.
Med-jai history was pushed aside as Suleiman turned his attention back to his son. Aywa, Suleiman spent much time watching Ardeth. But this was the first time in twenty mortal years that he returned here. He cursed himself often for not speaking his heart. What a coward he was! Facing Imhotep's minions was so much easier than telling his young son how very much he loved him, and how proud he was of him.
And yet, despite Suleiman's own failures as a father, Ardeth knew how much his parents loved him. How was that possible? Certainly, his second son came to that truth as an adult, when he looked back over his life. It took him some time to understand what Suleiman said to him, but he understood. He understood better than Andreas ever did. And like his wife, it hurt Suleiman to see what Andreas would have done to the Med-jai.
Even at thirteen, Ardeth would have been a more fitting leader for the Med-jai than his eighteen year old brother. And yet, Suleiman knew that he could not have named his younger son as his heir. The Asu tribe alone would have never stood for it, when Ardeth was not yet a warrior. And it wasn't that Andreas led poorly, for the Med-jai didn't suffer terrible losses in the raids to protect Hamunaptra.
It was just that he was so impulsive! Suleiman couldn't fault his son for wanting to make Lock-nah pay for what he did to Acacia. But he could, and did, fault his son for the way he went about it. He did not heed his level-headed brother's words of caution, and got himself killed while Ardeth and Anatol watched in horror. That was the other thing he did wrong. He should have never taken a nine year old boy with him. Yes, Suleiman knew how badly Andreas could have hurt the Med-jai.
It hurt Andreas as well. Suleiman heard him cry out while Garai told the Med-jai of his dream, what would have come to pass if Andreas led the Med-jai during the first rising of Imhotep. For even as Garai related his dream, the gods ever so thoughtfully provided images to match the words. They watched in horror as Ardeth died in his older brother's arms, and Suleiman heard his older son weeping from the knowledge that his own arrogance would have cost his brother his life.
Andreas was always a good son, and a good brother. He was vehemently protective of his younger siblings, and when he went after Lock-nah, there was no hesitation. The renegade hurt his little sister, raped her. There was no room for forgiveness for such a despicable act. Unfortunately, he was young and hot-headed, as impulsive as his younger brother was serious. It was that impulsiveness which led to his death, which would have led to his brother's death, and the destruction of their people.
Andreas admitted that he was stupid, and sometimes shut down when he recalled his stupidity. Suleiman knew, for he heard his son's thoughts. The late chieftain heard Andreas rail against his stupidity, against the accident of birth which made him the first-born. He knew, just as well as Suleiman, that a thirteen year old chieftain would have never been accepted. And he knew that he should have never been a chieftain himself.
Suleiman asked, //So, what do you think of your new sister?// Andreas tore his eyes away from Ardeth with difficulty. Or rather, away from the sight of Ardeth kissing his fiancee. Suleiman's older son resembled a small boy at the moment, with his dark eyes very, very wide. Perhaps he was surprised by this new side of his little brother. Suleiman bit back a smile. Well, what did Andreas expect?
As was mentioned by more than one person, Ardeth *was* a very passionate young man. Then again, perhaps Suleiman had more time to become accustomed to that reality. He wasn't entirely sure which was more difficult. Knowing that his little boy grew up and become a man, or knowing that his little brother was no longer the child who followed him with dark, worshipful eyes. It should have been the former, but Andreas was a little strange in that respect. It wasn't hard for Suleiman, accepting that Terrence and Nassor grew into men with their own desires, but Andreas was another story entirely.
//Father, has she put a spell on him?// Andreas finally asked. Suleiman stared at his eldest son, and Andreas waved his hand toward the young couple, continuing, //Look at him, Father, he's not behaving like himself at all!// It was then, and only then, that Suleiman saw a mischievous light in his eldest son's eyes. The man cuffed his son lightly in the back of his head, as Andreas chortled, "Oh, Father! You should have seen the look on your face!"
Suleiman muttered a few curses under his breath, still glaring at his oldest, and Andreas continued, "It's high time my little brother stopped being so serious! It was starting to ruin his personality. I just wish he wasn't marrying an American." Suleiman shrugged, and Andreas continued, "On the other hand, Lady Ardath was from Europe originally, and she helped to create our bloodline. Maybe it's only fitting that another foreigner is her reincarnation."
"Celia will rise or fall as a Med-jai queen, based on her abilities and her own limitations. She needs the reminders of her past as much as your brother does. Not at all," Suleiman answered. He looked at his second son, whose memories of Ramseses were still foggy. He hoped that would remain so, but he knew better. After a moment, the former chieftain continued, "Fortunately, our women are willing to accept her, because she makes Ardeth happy. She still has much work to do with the rest of the Asu tribe, much less the rest of the Med-jai."
Andreas gave a mock gasp of shock, saying, "Father! You know we have no queens or kings!" Suleiman gave his son a Look, and the boy added, laughing, "And I thought Ardeth was too serious! That was a joke, Father, I knew what you meant." Suleiman shook his head, smiling faintly. Andreas looked back at his brother, adding, "I hope she doesn't distract him too much from his duties." He sounded serious this time, and a quick glance confirmed that he *was.*
Now Suleiman did laugh, saying, "My son! That is part of her job while taking care of your brother. She is supposed to distract him, else he will become overwhelmed. No, if we should fear anything, it should not be her influence where our sacred duty is concerned. And understand me, my son. Imhotep is no longer a threat, but Khaldun will be for quite some time. No, she will not intervene with Hamunaptra. Rather, she will make her voice known with O'Connell." Andreas just smirked.
"Father," he said, looking at the young woman with Ardeth, "perhaps I will come to like this little American Fury after all." Andreas looked back at him, his dark eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter, and added, "Can you imagine, Father, what she will do to O'Connell the first time he angers her?" Suleiman didn't have to imagine. He could see the somewhat immediate future. . .and he knew it wouldn't be a pretty sight.
. . .
As Andreas and Suleiman debated about the choices made and things to come, another brother was dealing with another set of problems. Some were more easily rectified than others. He made his decision weeks earlier, when he first found out that his sister would be marrying Ardeth Bey. He would not interact with the Med-jai people, and as soon as Celia was wed to her beloved chieftain, he would return to the United States. Jason Ferguson was uncomfortable with the Med-jai, uncomfortable with Egypt, and everything which happened over the last few months. Moreover, he was uncomfortable with the changes in his sister.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Jason was far more uncomfortable with the changes in himself. His possession at the hands of Khaldun opened doors that frightened him. Made him aware of things about himself that made him ashamed. He was so stupid, and while he and Celia spent the last few weeks rebuilding their deeply strained relationship, it would be a long time before Jason could forgive himself for his stupidity.
He almost got his sister killed. As they returned to the Med-jai camp, Jason learned that Celia almost died from heat exhaustion and dehydration. How many deaths did he cause? Khaldun used him to kill so many people. There were the five men sent after him. There were the three Med-jai who accompanied Ardeth to Hamunaptra, when Khaldun jumped from Jason to Ardeth.
And there were the four Med-jai who had sought answers about their brethren, who had also died. All told, that was twelve people dead, and there would have been more if Khaldun hadn't overreached himself. Jason meant, of course, his steps to resurrect Imhotep. The victim of the hom- dai, and possibly the only person who had any clue how Jason felt. It was only now, three thousand years later, that Imhotep was starting to grasp what sort of effects his actions had.
Not just for himself and Anck-su-namun, not just for the Med-jai, but for everyone whom Imhotep had loved in that time. He could have died, after Celia broke the hom-dai with Ardeth's blood and her own. He could have finally been at peace, but he chose to live instead. Jason wanted to know why. In Imhotep's position, Jason knew that he would have chosen death. And the high priest couldn't answer his question.
Just as Jason couldn't answer Imhotep's questions, about why he did such things to his own sister. Imhotep had a very hard time understanding that, and Jason couldn't explain how jealous he was of his sister. But, on the other hand, it seemed that jealousy was something which Imhotep understood quite well, for jealousy drove his hatred of Seti. So perhaps, they did understand each other after all.
Still, Jason watched him in silence as Imhotep struggled with this strange world. No longer was he interested in ruling it. . .just understanding it. Jason wished him luck. There were times when Jason himself didn't understand it, and he lived in this world for twenty-five years. He couldn't imagine the world of three thousand years earlier, so he was the last person to ask. Jason told him that, and Imhotep answered in his halting English, "Perhaps I should ask your sister to explain this time and place to me, then."
Jason found his latent protective instincts balking at that, the ones he found anew when Khaldun assumed control of his body, and Imhotep continued, looking almost amused, "Do not be afraid, child, for I have no wish to harm her. She broke the hom-dai, she freed me. I would never hurt her." Of course he wouldn't. Everyone knew what Anck-su-namun did to people who hurt the reincarnation of her best friend. Jason still fumed at being called a 'child,' but he could hardly argue with a man who was three thousand years older than himself.
Besides, Jason learned something very important while under Khaldun's control. A person could learn a great deal by keeping quiet, and watching others. Or, as Imhotep said when Jason told him, it was easier to learn when one's mouth was closed. After that remark, the young American wished Imhotep was his father. He learned more from the former mummy in a few weeks than from his own old man in years.
By listening and watching, Jason learned that Ardeth Bey and Jason's sister genuinely loved each other. Jason was still figuring that out, since they were groping toward a friendship before Jason's betrayal. However, he knew Celia felt safe with Ardeth Bey. Trust and common ground were very necessary ingredients to love. Somewhere between the bazaar and the final confrontations in Hamunaptra, trust and common ground gave way to love. It was not something which either of them sought. But it was there, and neither was about to let go of the other. Something which Jason saw for himself while trapped by Khaldun.
Then there was Miranda, who adored Ardeth. His niece trusted the Med- jai, felt safe with him, and she never felt safe with Jason. He never tried to make her feel safe, only unwanted. She needed a father. His sister did a swell job of taking care of herself, Jason, and Miranda. . .usually with nothing but grief from Jason, and now it was time for someone to take care of her. Jason wished she chose someone who could put her first.
However, Jason also knew that to say such a thing would result in a confrontation with either his sister or Evelyn O'Connell, neither of which he particularly wanted. The one time he insulted Ardeth Bey, the Englishwoman pulled on his ear. The next time, she would probably box his ears, and Jason had no intention of giving her that opportunity. Instead, he silently made himself a promise to take care of his sister in any way he could.
One thing was sure. His days as a spoiled brat were over. He was through being a spoiled brat, through taking his sister for granted, and through with being a hanger-on. He simply didn't have the energy to behave as he had, nor did he have the strength to endure the consequences. Because Jason understood this, above all else. He almost pushed his sister too far, and only one thing prevented him from destroying everything.
He did not want to try her patience further, and that meant he also kept his mouth shut about the amount of time she spent with Ardeth. He shared this observation about this with Imhotep as well, and got a grunted affirmative. It seemed Imhotep was having a hard time accepting what his eyes told him, that Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend, Ramseses. Then again, Jason supposed it was difficult to accept that your best friend was reincarnated as your worst enemy, your nightmare come true.
While Imhotep spent more time with the Ferguson siblings than with anyone else, that didn't stop Celia from playing kissy-face with her fiancé when she did have a few free moments with him. Only a few minutes earlier, Jason saw them ride out of the village together. More than once, he silently echoed the request for them to 'get a room,' as expressed by O'Connell. It was damned annoying, watching them kiss all the time, and it was downright disgusting to see Celia's expression when a kiss was broken.
What was worse was the shame he always felt, as soon as that thought crossed his mind. Celia was happy. Why wasn't that good enough for him? Why did it stick in his throat, that it was a man like Ardeth Bey who made his sister so happy, and a man like Leslie Carstairs who had betrayed her? Why did it sicken him to see Celia's face light up when she saw Ardeth? Jason knew the answers, of course. And it made him feel worse.
He was jealous. And that was the final reason he was returning to Chicago once his sister was married. It wasn't just because he didn't feel like he belonged here, though that was certainly a part of that. But he didn't like feeling the way he did whenever he looked at Ardeth, knowing how his sister felt about the man. Jason had been humbled, by Ardeth's courage and determination, but he was still damn jealous of the man's power and simply being.
He had to accept his sister's choice, but he didn't like it, and he didn't like the man. Yes, even after the chieftain had almost died, he still didn't like Ardeth Bey. He probably never would, no matter how many times the chieftain put his life on the line for Jason's sister and niece. But as he had for the last several weeks, Jason pulled back. He hadn't fully dealt with what happened inside Hamunaptra, a place which he never wanted to see again. He wasn't ready to do that.
Yeah, he was definitely a coward. He never claimed otherwise. He was not like Celia, whose quiet courage and strength allowed her to rise to the occasion. She was in the middle of being kidnapped in the bazaar, and managed to shout a warning to Ardeth Bey. That still boggled Jason's mind, even months later. He was not like Ardeth Bey, who overcame injury after injury to face Khaldun. Jason witnessed the battle on the spiritual plane between Khaldun and Ardeth. The dual defeats allowed Jason to retake control of his body and restore his soul.
No, he didn't like Ardeth Bey in the least. But Jason couldn't deny that as long as the man drew breath, Jason's sister and niece would be all right. Ardeth would protect them, protect them as Jason never could. Never tried to, if you came right down to it, but Jason wasn't ready to face that, either. Instead, he silently prayed that even as the chieftain took care of Celia and Miranda, he would also cherish them for always, as he did now.
. . .
The last few weeks of mortal time were fascinating for Mathayus, even without the additional entertainment provided by Anck-su-namun. He watched as Ardeth Bey started his recovery, as the Med-jai Elders agreed to accept Celia Ferguson as Ardeth's wife and as the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. He was not permitted to intervene directly, but with his recent aid against Khaldun, he was given leave to help in other ways.
One such way was sending dreams to the Med-jai elders who were the most skeptical that one of their greatest heroines would be reborn as an American. Interestingly enough, the elders who were most skeptical were the ones who revered Lady Ardath the most. That aggravated Anck-su-namun to no small degree, and it took all of the combined will of both Mathayus and Ma'at to keep the fiery concubine from going after the elders as well.
Besides, it was unnecessary, especially after she dropped the tent on the maiden who spit on Celia's boots. The elders quickly realized that Anck-su-namun was as protective of Ardath's reincarnation as she was of Ardath herself. Between that, and all the other evidence, they were finally convinced. Much to the Scorpion King's relief, because if they delayed much longer, they might have found themselves gifted with a visit from Anck-su-namun herself.
Which was not something they would have enjoyed. On the other hand, Mathayus thought he might have enjoyed such a confrontation. Anck-su-namun was not a woman who suffered fools gladly, and she considered the Med-jai elders to be fools. And at this point, people were divided into two categories for Anck-su-namun. Those who treated Celia with kindness and those who did not. He supposed he should be grateful that Imhotep kept to himself. Things could have become unpleasant.
Not that things were easy on that front, as of late. Not at all. But Mathayus knew that both men were trying. Ardeth had thirty years of fear to overcome, and Imhotep had three thousand years worth of fear and hatred. It would not be easy for either man to overcome the past. But he was pleased to see that just as he and Balthasar overcame their mutual distrust, so too were Imhotep and Ardeth making the attempt, and that was always a place to begin. He almost felt sorry for Imhotep, for a variety of reasons.
First, Imhotep learned that his best friend had been reborn as his enemy. That was bad enough, but he next found out that Lady Ardath never forgave him for breaking his promise to watch over Ramseses. Following that was the knowledge that the young concubine wasn't as sweet and spineless as he thought. Yes, he received indications to that shortly before her death, but he never realized how vengeful she could be. Mathayus grinned, recalling Imhotep's face during that confrontation.
Looking back over the last few weeks of mortal time, Mathayus remembered something Ma'at told him, when he marveled at the changes in Celia, in Anck-su-namun, and in Imhotep. It was only moments before Altair Bey told her son about the decision of the elders. Ma'at smiled. . .he could feel her smile in his heart. . .and replied, **My dear Scorpion King, the Americans have a wonderful saying for this situation. You ain't seen nothin' yet!**
Indeed. There were other things to draw his attention, namely the changes in Ardeth and Celia. Falling in love was easy. Building their relationship, especially given the adjustments which they were both making, was much more difficult. At least they had a friendship to form that basis, instead of simple chemistry. Though his own relationship with Cassandra started out as simple chemistry, they were among the fortunate ones, and Mathayus knew it.
Wagering on any relationship was a foolish thing to do. There were so many things which determined the outcome of a person's life. He himself was living. . .or dead. . .proof of that. Who would have believed, five thousand years ago, that the young and compassionate king who showed such promise would end his life as a bloodthirsty tyrant? For him, the loss of his Cassandra began his unraveling.
He did not blame Cassandra. She died saving his life. He blamed himself, and none others, for what he became. Not even the murderers who took his wife from him. It was he who chose his path. Mathayus only hoped that one day, his beloved wife would forgive him as quickly as Ardath forgave her Rameses. Perhaps one day, once he earned his second chance at life, he would be reincarnated and find his sorceress queen.
He would not give up hope. After all, Rameses was eventually reborn as Ardeth Bey, and he found his beloved in this lifetime. It was that example which gave Mathayus hope. If Rameses could be forgiven in time, then so could Mathayus. Once he atoned for his bargain with Anubis, once he proved himself worthy of a second chance in the World of the Living. . .well, they would see. He heard Ma'at say once that humans punished themselves more than any god ever could. He and Rameses demonstrated that truth as few mortals could.
Returning his attention to the young mortal couple, Mathayus knew neither had an easy life, so neither knew how to give up. However, even with that, Celia's patience was running out. It would only take a few attacks against herself, or one more attack against her daughter, then all hell would break loose. Unbeknownst to O'Connell, after Celia and Ardeth calmed down Miranda and explained why the children were so mean to her, Ardeth spent another two hours calming down Celia. That was difficult for him. Mathayus knew it took all of his self-control to keep from flaying alive the warriors who were so thoughtless around their children.
And in the end, justice was restored in a manner of speaking. Now, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the parents and the cruelty of the children, Darius and Damara Bey refused to play with those children, or anyone else who was unkind to their soon-to-be cousin. And no amount of coaxing on Acacia's part could induce either child to back down, nor did the repeated attempts of the mothers of those children to talk sense into the determined nephew and fiery little niece of their chieftain have any effect.
It was amusing to watch that woman try to tell Altair that Darius and Damara were wrong for taking Miranda's side. Regardless of how Altair herself felt about Celia, the matriarch made no secret that she adored her new granddaughter. The stupid woman made no headway with Altair, even as Acacia tried to convince her children that the best way to help Miranda was by playing with those children. She got nowhere as well.
Ardeth did nothing, aside from warn those warriors to be more mindful of their tongues around their wives and their children. However, Anck-su- namun wasn't nearly as benevolent as the chieftain. The mother of two of those children felt the full force of Anck's rage when she insulted Celia, with a series of unexplained little incidents which happened when no one else was around. Mathayus wasn't watching, and Ma'at wouldn't tell him what happened. Which meant he probably didn't *want* to know.
The woman still hadn't learned, and in all likelihood, it would take action on Celia's part before she did learn. Unfortunately, there were bullies in the modern Med-jai as well. And many of them were women. Worse, they were incapable of understanding the consequences. They were attacking the woman whom their chieftain loved. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of patience, and took action himself.
This would be a very *bad* thing to happen, because it would not induce these women to accept Celia. It would, however, force them to understand that Ardeth would not accept such behavior toward his wife. For that reason, Mathayus rather hoped that the young man would lose patience quickly, because he realized that by doing nothing, Ardeth was quietly condoning the way these women treated his intended.
. . .Or not. There was also the matter of Ardeth's own sisters, his younger brother, and his mother. Altair remained wary of Celia, as any mother would be, but quietly supported her future daughter-in-law nonetheless. Acacia and Aleta's friends reached out to the quiet American, and found their tentative efforts repaid. Perhaps, then, Ardeth was doing the right thing by allowing his future wife to deal with this on her own.
The trick would be in convincing Ardeth of that. Mathayus knew he wasn't the man for that job. In these final days before Ardeth's wedding, Mathayus could see clearly why Ardeth never allowed himself to fall in love before. This was the very thing which he feared. And so, he shut off his heart. Mathayus could do nothing to help him, nothing aside from providing support. And that seemed like nothing.
But one of the most important things he learned since Ma'at reclaimed his soul from Anubis was that things were often not what they seemed. He tried to remember that, and tried to remember, too, that support was so important. Especially for a man like Ardeth Bey, who was used to doing things by himself. There were some tasks which no one could do for the chieftain. He had to do those things himself. And it was then that Ardeth needed the most support. When those times came, Mathayus would be there.