Part Six
The day passed fairly quickly. Celia left Jonathan's tent after swearing to keep his secret. She checked to make sure the coast was clear, then she made her way toward the main part of the camp, where she encountered her fiance. Tonight, at the dance everyone was talking about, she would tell Ardeth about her visit to Jonathan. She did not believe he would find it a problem, since Jonathan was practically her brother, but if someone saw her, and wanted to make an issue out of it, then it was better if Ardeth was prepared with knowledge beforehand.
She spoke with Hanif on her way to Evy's tent, then she and Evy went to Altair's tent to work on the clothes together. The two Western women were silent for the first few hours, while they worked. . .at least until the conversation came to that most fascinating of subjects: the wedding night. That reminded Celia, and she asked, looking up from her sewing, "I meant to ask you, since it's just us girls. How do I undo the sash which holds Ardeth's robes in place?"
The reaction wasn't the one she anticipated. Aleta and Acacia, who just returned from parts unknown, looked at each other. . .and then giggled. Yes. . .the sisters actually giggled. Not laughed, not chuckled, but giggled. Mystified, Celia looked at Evy, who looked as confused as Celia felt. Altair looked at her daughters reprovingly, before telling Celia, "Forgive these foolish girls, my daughter. It is simply something with which you need not concern yourself."
Ooh-kay. Whatever *that* mean. Seeing her confusion, Altair continued, "You see, dear girl, when a chieftain. . .or a young man in line to become chieftain. . .takes a bride, there is a very special custom after the ceremony. In this particular ritual, the young chieftain removes his sash and his robes, leaving him clad only in his trousers. He lights candles within the tent for his bride, and then waits for her in a kneeling position."
Celia felt her face burn with embarrassment, but they weren't finished. Acacia, who now had control of her giggles, explained, "When his bride enters the tent, her escort remains outside to fasten the tent flap. The chieftain tells his new bride, 'just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine.' Personally, I think that is why Ardeth waited so long to take a bride!"
Aleta whacked her sister in the back of her head, scolding, "Sister! That is most unkind!" She stopped, thought about it, then added ruefully, "On the other hand, I cannot say that Ardeth is not proud. He is very proud, and for him to be willing to humble himself in such a way. . .yes, I do believe he loves you." Again, Celia blushed, and Aleta changed the subject, saying, "And tonight, we dance to your fertility, my sister."
"And to celebrate my brother's long-overdue marriage, I have enlisted more dancers. Anissa and her daughter Ishtar will dance with us, and Ishtar will speak to her friends," Acacia put in. She paused, her eyes becoming almost sly, and she added, "Anissa gladly agreed to dance for you, Celia, and asked that you dance with us. It is hardly often that someone will stand up to Sanure, and for that, Anissa is grateful."
Celia nodded, though she had no clue what any of that meant. And Rick O'Connell claimed that Ardeth was hard to follow at times! But something else Acacia said caught her attention, and Celia asked curiously, "You said that Anissa's daughter was named 'Ishtar,' correct?" Acacia nodded, and Celia continued, "But that's. . . Persian? Or something along those lines, it's not an Egyptian name."
"No, but nor is 'Acacia,' 'Aleta,' 'Ardeth' or 'Anatol,' my daughter," Altair pointed out. Well, Celia could hardly argue with that, and her mother-in-law continued, "The Med-jai have come into contact with many, many people through the centuries. Persians, Greeks, Romans, Mesopotamians. Just as Islam has touched the Med-jai, so too have names from other cultures. 'Ishtar' is but one example."
"Oh. Okay. I see," Celia replied. And she did. Sort of. She looked at her best friend, asking, "What about you, Evy? Do you think you'll be up to dancing?" Evy looked down at her middle, a nice little bump, then shook her head. Celia grinned impishly, and Evy scowled at her in mock indignation. Celia continued, "Well, maybe you're right. Can I sit out the first few minutes, Acacia, until I see what you're doing?"
"Of course, my sister. Join us whenever you're ready. And Evelyn O'Connell can do other things to ensure your fertility when you join with my brother," Acacia replied. Aleta added something in Arabic, laughing, and Evy turned bright red with embarrassment. The other women in the tent laughed as well, including Altair. Which truly surprised Celia, given the way Evy was blushing at the moment.
Celia, whose own Arabic was quite lacking, decided she *really* didn't want to know what her sister-in-law just said. Evy said somewhat tartly, "As our shared brother has been known to say on occasion, I think NOT!" The entire tent erupted into laughter at that, even Celia, who had no idea what was suggested. One thing was sure, though. This would be a *very* interesting night! Evy added, trying desperately to regain her composure, "Anyone up for storytelling?"
"What sorts of stories would you mean, sister?" Acacia asked, shifting her weight ever so slightly. Celia looked over at the raven- haired woman, who continued, "I mean, I have many, many stories I can tell Celia about our dear brother. Many of which, I know she has never heard." Evy grinned and nodded. Celia glared at her best friend, and Acacia added hopefully, "And you have stories as well, Evelyn?"
"Of course I do, that's why I asked!" Evy answered sweetly, and the tent erupted in laughter once more. She grinned, adding, "Now, my first story takes place on the dirigible, while we were tracking down Imhotep." Celia raised her eyebrows, sensing this was quite an interesting story in and of itself. The dirigible, she knew, belonged to Izzy, the man who helped them to rescue Miranda. And he was quite the character, so this would be an interesting story!
. . .
It took Evy thirty minutes to quit blushing after Aleta's suggestion was made, even as she told her stories. However, she thought more about what was said. She heard of the custom among the Med-jai women, and one of them was kind enough to explain it to her. At first, it sounded a bit. . .well, it made Evy a bit uncomfortable. She simply wasn't used to being that close to a member of her own gender.
The old woman told her, "If you wish your friend to be fertile, you can offer yourself as an escort to her husband's tent, to the tent of our chieftain. Once you reach the tent, take her in your arms, your swollen belly pressing into hers, so she can feel the movement of your child, and whisper, 'may Taueret bless you.' This may be said in Arabic, in Egyptian, or in English. It matters not. The words are irrelevant, for it is the desire behind the words which matter."
Evy thought about the actual practice all the time they were sewing, and through dinner, even when the dance started. What was so strange about what they were suggesting? She leads her best friend to her new husband's tent, hugs her, wishes her many pregnancies and many children. What was so odd about that? Perhaps the way it was worded, which was so explicit, so graphic. But the sentiment made sense.
As the dancers filed into the circle, Evy observed Celia leaning over to speak to Ardeth. He looked at her in silence as she spoke, then he smiled, cupping her face in his hand, and kissed her. Evy looked away discreetly, feeling like a voyeur. Now she knew how Alex, Jonathan, and Ardeth felt every time they caught her and Rick kissing! It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. But she was still glad to see Ardeth happy.
She turned her attention back to the dancers, her breath catching in her throat as their feet pounded in the sand, arms waving above their heads, and their bodies undulating in time to the primeval rhythm. The strange thing was, Evy couldn't locate the source of the music. As she looked around in confusion, the dancers broke rank, and Acacia leaped out in front. Evy glanced over at her friend, to find Celia staring at the dancers with a rapt expression.
The Englishwoman caught her breath once more at her friend's dazed face. She looked as though she was in a trance. As though. . .as though she was remembering something. Acacia strode out and held out her hand to Celia, pulling the American woman to her feet. Celia was drawn into the center, the dancers continuing their ritual, and began swaying in time to the music. Her eyes closed, her feet beat out a rhythm counter to the one provided by the unseen musicians. But at the same time, it seemed to match. And instead of lifting her arms to the sky, Celia wrapped them around her waist, then drew them up to cross over her chest as she sank slowly to her knees.
The circle expanded out around her, each Med-jai woman dancing and leaping as Celia writhed in the center, her dark hair swaying about her shoulders. But what really made Evy's blood run cold was the way Celia's face was directed toward Ardeth. As if she was dancing for *him.* And with that thought, Evy found herself back in ancient Egypt, found herself once more the princess Nefertiri.
**Seti the First loved entertainment. Whether it was watching half- naked women fight or hearing about his son's exploits in battle, it mattered little. On this particular night, he clapped his hands and called, "I would see a dance!" At this time, he just chose Anck-su-namun as his new mistress, just as Rameses chose Ardath as his own concubine. The pharaoh's eyes lit on the young girl, and he said with a smile, "Ardath! Your people, the Israelites, they dance, do they not? Show us then! Show us one of their dances!"
Ardath looked shyly at Rameses, who nodded encouragingly, then made her way out to the floor. She stamped her foot three times, then began to dance. However, Nefertiri never saw any of the Israelite slaves dance like this. It was a purely sensual dance, one that made her brother's eyes darken with desire. That was the point, for Ardath was dancing solely for him. Nefertiri could see it in her eyes, in the way she danced. In the way Ardath never took her eyes off Rameses. She was seducing him without even touching him, and Rameses was falling even further under her spell.
At last, Ardath slumped to the ground, her forehead almost touching the cold marble floor. Seti stared at his son's concubine in shock and said, "My dear girl. I have never seen such a dance from the Israelites! Rise, child, arise!" Ardath pushed herself to her feet, looking sweaty and exhausted. Anck-su-namun bolted from Seti's side and raced out to her friend, putting a bracing arm around Ardath's waist.
"That is because, my pharaoh, it is not of the Israelites. I. . .have vague memories. From before. When I was a small child. That dance. . ." Ardath paused, grimacing as she pressed her hand to her chest. Anck- su-namun tightened her arms about her waist protectively, her expression showing anxiety, then Ardath continued, "That dance comes from the land where I was born. It was a dance of fertility. . .fertility for the crops, fertility for the women. That is the only dance I remember."
"A dance of fertility! You little foreign slut!" Khaldun roared and bolted to his feet. Anck-su-namun had no time to react as the prince backhanded Ardath hard across her face. The blow sent both girls sprawling, Anck-su-namun rolling protectively over her friend. Khaldun was known for his brutality, and Nefertiri feared her cousin would beat Ardath in front of everyone. He would find it necessary to go through Anck-su- namun, though, if he wished to hurt Ardath. Fortunately, though Nefertiri liked neither girl, it never happened. At the same time Khaldun left his seat, Rameses left his own.
Before Khaldun could strike out at either girl a second time, Rameses caught his cousin's wrist, hissing, "Have a care, cousin. That is my woman you just struck, and I'll not allow one such as yourself to harm her. Concubine she may be, but my Ardath is as good as any royal whore who has parted her legs for you!" There was a gasp among those gathered, but before Khaldun could react, Seti clapped his hands.
Within moments, the Med-jai surrounded the prince, who was glowering at Rameses. However, Nefertiri's brother turned his back on their cousin, and gently helped both girls to their feet. He kept a protective arm around his unsteady concubine, asking Anck-su-namun with a glance if she was hurt. Shakir Bey, then a boy, placed his sword alongside Khaldun's throat and asked with a low growl, "Shall I cut his throat, my lord?"
"No, young Med-jai. However, I would ask that you escort my nephew to the city's limits. He is to be banished for a period of no less than three months. I asked the child to dance for me, Khaldun, not for you. It is not for you to question the dance she chooses. Should you return before those three months are up, I will allow Shakir Bey to slit your throat. Go!" Seti ordered. The Med-jai hustled the seething prince from the room, and Seti turned his attention to his son and Ardath.
"And you, my son. I know you wish to protect what is yours. . .but be more circumspect in the future, if you please. Child, you danced well for me. One day, I would like to see this dance performed again, but only after you are healed. Rameses, take your concubine back to her chambers. Imhotep, go with them, my high priest. Make sure that young fool did not damage her too greatly," Seti replied.**
Evy came back to herself with a gasp. She blinked. . .yes, she was back in twentieth century Egypt. The night was eerily silent, and Evy looked to the center of the circle. Celia was on her knees, her shoulders bowed. The only sound Evy heard was her friend's harsh breathing. Then the whispers came, "She knows the dance!" *Of course she does, idiots,* Evy thought scathingly, *she brought that dance to Egypt three thousand years ago, when she was Lady Ardath!*
There were three sharp claps, and the other dancers sank to the ground, mirroring Celia's posture. Ardeth rose to his feet and walked slowly to the center of the circle. He knelt beside his fiancee, putting his arm around her shoulders. Something was whispered between them, and Celia nodded. Ardeth helped her to her feet, then looked at the people surrounding the circle and said, "I told you weeks ago that my chosen is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. Now you see the truth."
At his words, Acacia rose to her feet, drawing up the other dancers as well. The young woman chanted something which Evy didn't recognize, and the other dancers took up the chant. The Med-jai had their own language, even in ancient times. It was how they communicated when they were among people they did not know, and did not trust. Celia straightened up, though Evy could see the pain in her eyes.
She whispered something to Ardeth, who motioned Acacia over. The Med- jai woman put her arm around Celia's waist, in an eerie repeat of Anck-su- namun's own actions three thousand years earlier, then the other dancers surrounded her. Evy was immensely grateful that Miranda was already in bed, being watched over by Jonathan. The little girl would have had a very difficult time seeing her mother so exhausted.
Ardeth told his people in Arabic that the dance was concluded, and it was an obvious dismissal. Acacia and the dancers led Celia to her own tent, while Altair peeled off to retrieve Miranda. Ardeth came over to Rick and Evy, both men helping her to her feet, and said, "You recognized the dance, did you not, Evelyn?" The Englishwoman nodded, touching his shoulder gently, and he sighed, "As did I. It awakened memories."
He took a deep breath, then asked, "I would ask you to stay with my Celia tonight, Evelyn. Would you do this for me?" Evy just looked at him. He should have known better, should have known that he didn't have to ask. But she smiled, because he did ask, and reached up on her toes to lightly kiss his cheek. He smiled back at her, his dark eyes reflecting an all too familiar weariness as he murmured, "Shukran."
She answered him in the same language, then set out toward Celia's tent. As she did, she noticed a peculiar expression on her darling husband's face. He was up to something. Evy was quite sure he was up to something. The question was, what?
. . .
The arrangements for the impromptu Med-jai bachelor party were made. Rick knew from stray comments that Jonathan would be free once Altair returned Miranda to her mother. However, it became quite clear that Rick would need more help than just Jonathan. To that end, he tracked down Garai, Hanif and Nicodemus. He had a plan how to get their cooperation. He didn't need it, since all three thought it was a wonderful idea. They didn't trust Rick, but one problem at a time.
Ardeth's wedding wouldn't take place until late afternoon. The worst of the heat would be over, which also gave Ardeth time to lose his hangover. If he had one. Rick smiled grimly. If he didn't, then Rick would hurt him, especially since the American's own hangovers were usually nothing short of catastrophic. Yeah. He would definitely have to hurt Ardeth if the Med-jai, who was never drunk before, didn't have an equally bad hangover. In fact, Rick was relatively sure that Jonathan would help him with that, considering how bad Jonathan's own hangovers were.
Unwittingly, Ardeth played into Rick's hands when he asked Evy to stay with Celia. And wasn't that dance weird? From Evy's expression, Rick could tell she was having another flashback to good old ancient Egypt again. Sure, Evy's flashbacks began months earlier, with the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, but it seemed as if the reunion between Nefertiri and Ardath brought forth more memories.
Rick was sure there was a very good explanation for that, but at the moment, he wasn't interested in it. He just knew that every time he turned around, Evy was having another flashback, and Rick's own memories were slow in returning. They were returning just enough to make him aware that once again, Ardeth was right. There were times when Rick really hated him for that.
Of course, when Ardeth didn't know something, it was usually a doozy. Like when he hadn't known that the bracelet would kill Alex at the end of those seven days. Rick would never forget the look of shock on his friend's face when Evy asked him about it, only days after they all met up in Cairo again. He reacted almost the same as when Rick told him about explaining to Celia about. . .well. . .that.
There was no betrayal in his eyes at that time, only shock and a quiet rage that began to develop once he realized that something was kept from him. Ardeth Bey did *not* like it when he was lacking information that he might need. Didn't like that one bit, oh no, not at all. Whatever problems Rick might have had with his friend in the past, keeping information from them was never among them. In fact, he was a little too generous with details, as far as Rick was concerned.
It occurred to him as he drew Ardeth into the tent that Ardeth might be even more generous with details, with his tongue loosened by alcohol. They just didn't know what he might do. Hell, to the best of Rick's knowledge, Ardeth never even got drunk. . .they had no way of knowing how the alcohol would affect him. Rick wondered uneasily if this was such a good idea. For all he knew, Ardeth could be a nasty drunk. Not that Rick thought that was particularly likely. . .
But he was committed now, and there was no backing out. Hanif already had a bottle out (Rick sure hoped he didn't have patrol the following day), and Jonathan was sorting through the bottles. Garai said with a broad smile, "Welcome, my chieftain, to our celebration of your last night as an unmarried man!" Rick glanced at Ardeth from the corner of his eye, and almost laughed aloud at the expression on his friend's face. Ardeth Bey at a loss. . .the mind boggled.
"Yes, Chieftain. . .we celebrate you and our new queen. Who is already showing she belongs among the Med-jai," Nicodemus put in, handing a bottle to Rick. He paused, then asked innocently, "Chieftain, have you ever had such a night before? When your only responsibility is to enjoy yourself?" Rick blinked at the boy. Huh? Where did that come from? He wasn't the only one. Ardeth was staring in absolute shock. He was beginning to enjoy seeing that look on Ardeth's face, if he was really honest about it.
"Of course not, you little idiot," Hanif retorted (conveniently ignoring that he was only a few years older than Nicodemus), "our chieftain has never been married before!" Nicodemus glared at him, a growl beginning deep in his throat. Garai rolled his eyes and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, restraining him from doing anything stupid. Like attacking Hanif in full view of their chieftain.
"That is enough, both of you. This is a celebration, what O'Connell calls a bachelor party. Ardeth, sit. The Commanders will deal with any problems. For tonight, you are simply another young warrior who has at last found the missing piece of his heart," Garai said. Rick was stunned when Ardeth simply sat down, and the taller man looked at the old man. Garai shrugged and said, "I have known Ardeth his entire life. He is our chieftain, but I am still a warrior with more years."
"What. . .might I ask. . .is a bachelor party?" Ardeth finally managed to ask. The poor man looked utterly shocked by what was going on. Rick just patted his shoulder, grinning impishly, and Ardeth added, "O'Connell? This was your idea?" The American nodded, and Ardeth asked next, sounding more than a little wary, "Will I find it necessary to strike you again?"
"Why did you strike O'Connell, Ardeth? I am sure he deserved it, but why?" Hanif asked. Rick looked over at the young man, who already downed half a bottle of whatever he was drinking. The American didn't ask. He didn't want to know. While he was reasonably certain that Ardeth never got drunk, he wasn't as sure about the other Med-jai. Ardeth took his responsibilities seriously. . .and he had a lot more responsibility than a young warrior like Hanif or Nicodemus.
"I struck O'Connell because. . .would you like to explain this, O'Connell, since you derive such amusement from it?" Ardeth asked, accepting the bottle which Garai handed him. Rick winced a bit at the question. Okay. Looked like Ardeth still didn't totally forgive him for that. Then again, Ardeth had a habit of asking questions, which told Rick when he had a chance to stop and think, just how badly he hurt Ardeth.
'Glad to see me now?' Ardeth asked him as they raced away from the museum, Imhotep's Mummy Warriors in hot pursuit. At the time, Rick gave the question little thought, but later. . .later, after Ardeth collapsed at his feet, the American found himself regretting the brutal reception he gave his friend. Remembering that guilt, and the heightened remorse he felt after Evy let him have it both barrels, Rick replied now, "I opened my mouth, when I should have kept it shut."
Ardeth took a swig from the bottle, barely even realizing what he was doing. Hanif, who just started his second bottle, retorted, "Well, O'Connell, that is something we expect from you! You open your mouth, and think nothing of what you say next." Garai said something which sounded chastising, and Hanif retorted, "I speak the truth, Garai! I do not know why O'Connell is still here, when there is nothing he needs from Ardeth. Our chieftain calls you his brother, O'Connell, but rest assured. . .the rest of us have no such regard for you."
Oh crap, here they went again. Then again, Rick knew the Med-jai warriors still resented him. Before he could speak, however, Jonathan said, "Enough, my boy, enough. This is a happy occasion. Your chieftain is getting married to a woman who understands about secrets. She'll keep yours, Ardeth. I know she will, because she's kept mine." Now what in the hell did that mean?
Ardeth took another long swig of his drink, then replied, "So she has told me. She told me that she cannot tell me what you and she talked about this morning. . .only that she did speak with you alone. Jonathan, would you be kind enough to retrieve another bottle for me? This one is almost empty, and I find I like what I feel right now. Although, O'Connell and Hanif are in danger of giving me a headache."
It was Garai, however, who passed another bottle to his chieftain. Ardeth accepted it with one hand, while he finished the current bottle, then passed the empty bottle to Rick with his free hand. Rick wondered if Ardeth would be as entertaining as Evy when *she* was drunk, and decided he would probably find out very soon, given Ardeth's inexperience with alcohol. Hanif said contritely, "I apologize, my chieftain, I will say no more."
"Shukran, Hanif, you have my gratitude for that. Now, O'Connell, what exactly is the purpose of a bachelor party?" Ardeth asked. The question surprised Rick. He knew that his friend was educated about Western ways, primarily from his uncle Terrence, the late curator at the Cairo Museum. Maybe Dr Terrence Bey never heard references to a bachelor party, or perhaps he simply didn't think it was appropriate for him to tell his nephew about it.
"Well, buddy, it's not that complicated. The point is just to have fun, and go a little wild. You'll be a married man tomorrow, and it's time you. . ." Rick began. He was on the point of saying, 'let your hair down,' but the alcohol was already starting to take effect. If Ardeth was of a mind to take him literally. . .well, Rick really didn't want to go there. Instead, the American said, "We're gonna get you as drunk as possible, since you have such a hard time lightening up."
"I do *not* have a different. . .difficult. . .time! I simply. . .what was I saying?" Ardeth asked in confusion. Rick almost buried his face in his hands, laughing, but he managed to keep his composure. It was a good thing he did. Ardeth was unpredictable without alcohol in his system. Besides, Ardeth continued after a moment, his eyes brightening, "Oh, I remember now! I simply have no time for your. . .devise. . .diverge. . .your idea of fun, O'Connell."
"He is our chieftain," intoned Nicodemus. If Ardeth was two sheets to the wind, then Nicodemus was five sheets. The kid was wobbling in place. That wasn't so bad, but he was sitting down. On the other hand, at least he *was* sitting down. The young warrior continued, "Chieftain of all Twelve Tribes, servant to our people. He cannot afford your diversions, O'Connell, or many would die. But thank Allah, Geb, Horus and Isis that Ardeth leads us, not his brother Andreas."
"Do not speak ill of the dead, boy," Garai chided. Rick glanced at Ardeth, and found the world shifting under his feet. There were tears in his friend's eyes. Stoic Ardeth, who only collapsed after Alex was taken, had tears in his eyes. Rick didn't know what to do, but the old warrior did. Garai reached over and put his hand on Ardeth's back, saying, "You were just a child at the time, Nicodemus, hardly more than a baby."
"As if that matters! I heard about the stupidity Andreas demonstrated after his sister was raped! My Commander told me when we heard that Lock-nah returned. He told me that Andreas took a nine year old boy to watch him deal with Lock-nah and his men. And instead, that child saw his eldest brother cut down, then had to flee for his life! Andreas was a fool!" Nicodemus fired back, the alcohol making him brave or stupid.
"He was my brother," came the hoarse response from Ardeth. Nicodemus looked back at his chieftain, an apology already on his lips, but Ardeth continued numbly, "He was my brother. I loved him. He loved us. He was not thinking that day. . .he was seeing only our sister. I was thinking. I should have tried harder to convince him, to leave Anatol at home. I could not persuade him. It was my fault."
His voice broke, and Rick squeezed his shoulder, not knowing what to say. Ardeth continued, "You remind me of him, O'Connell. He was. . .he was my big brother. He was loud and brazen and stubborn. More stubborn than I, and I know myself to be stubborn. We all are. But. . . but he loved with everything he was, everything he would ever be. And if you hurt someone he loved, he would hunt you down and destroy you."
Now Rick really didn't know what to say. He swallowed hard, because from what he was told about Andreas Bey, even Rick could see the similarities between himself and the late chieftain. The chieftain whose irresponsibility left his seventeen year old brother with such a heavy burden wasn't so different from Rick at all. It made the American very glad that he faced Ardeth in Hamunaptra, instead of his older brother.
Garai said gently, sounding more like a surrogate father than a fellow warrior, "It was not your fault, lad. You tried to talk reason into him. No one could, Ardeth. Not you. Not me. Not even Altair. And so you did the next best thing, you went along to make sure nothing else went wrong. You are not responsible for your brother's failings. You are not responsible for what came next, either."
Ardeth raised his head, his dark eyes glittering with an old pain as he asked hoarsely, "Am I not? I was captured through my own stupidity, Garai. I could not let Anatol suffer for the stupidity of both of his brothers." Well, that was progress. . .at least he was acknowledging that Andreas was stupid. But what exactly happened that day? Ardeth was captured? He looked at Garai, who looked sad. No. Not just sad. Also frustrated. As if this was a conversation they had in the past.
"For the love of the gods, Ardeth! You were barely more than a child yourself! You had only been a warrior for a year, and it was a clever ambush! And what were you to do? Leave your brother there for the sands? You did the best you could. You were one seventeen year old boy, against twenty men. . .what could you have done differently?" Garai asked. Rick looked between the two men, totally lost.
"He did what his brother failed to do. He protected his little brother, and was tortured as a result," Hanif spat. The hostility in the tent toward Andreas Bey was starting to open doors in Rick's mind. Ardeth said that Rick reminded him of his older brother. He wondered if anyone else saw what Ardeth did. If that was true. . . However, that train of thought derailed when Hanif added, "Andreas was a coward, Ardeth. He would have never made that stand at Ahm Shere as you did."
Rick wondered where the young warrior got that. Ardeth just finished saying that his elder brother would annihilate anyone who harmed his family. That wasn't the mark of a coward. Or. . .or maybe Andreas would have decided that the O'Connell family deserved no backup, for all the times their stupidity and arrogance unleashed an evil upon the world. That was something he heard more than one Med-jai say.
The answer from another member of the group was always the same. 'We do this not for the O'Connells, but for the rest of the world. We do it for Ardeth, who would have faced the Army of Anubis alone, and for the people who have sense enough to leave such things alone.' There was always a long silence as the rest of the group tracked this information through their brains and tried to come up with a suitable response.
And the response which always came was, 'for once. . .just for once, Ardeth should leave the O'Connells to rot in their own blood. They are always in such a hurry to shed Med-jai blood for their fights, but when our chieftain needs them, they are nowhere to be found. Ardeth was shot while protecting the O'Connell woman, and the thanks he got was O'Connell shoving him into a wall. I want it understood, my brothers, that I will never fight for the O'Connells. Only for Ardeth, only for our people.'
There was almost always a snort of laughter, then the warrior who provided the answer in the first place always answered, 'that is the only reason any of us fight, my brother. None of us care anything about the O'Connells, but none of us wish to see Ardeth fight alone to the death. We must not become like Rick O'Connell, though his tattoo marks him as one of us.'
That brought laughter, and someone else saying, 'Hah! O'Connell will never be one of us! He is incapable of caring about people, as Ardeth does.' The party always moved on after that, and Rick always found himself stunned by the level of contempt which the rank and file of the Med-jai held for him. He knew that Ardeth, and his Commanders, were among the few who had any use for him. He knew that Altair Bey regarded him with distrust.
But there was a rawness to the anger of these ordinary warriors, and Rick always watched his back when he was alone in the Med-jai village. And the more he heard such words, the more wary he grew. Especially when he heard them from young warriors, because only ten years earlier, Rick was the same age as these boys. He knew how proud young men such as these could be, and he knew it was only a matter of time before something was attempted.
It would begin, as it always did. . .with the young warriors vocalizing their disgust with the Westerners whom they considered to be lower than camel dung, who had no trouble at all with risking Med-jai blood to clean up the messes they made. And eventually, eventually, the boys would push each other into doing something stupid. Challenging Rick to a fight, or something else. He didn't think any of them would try to stab him in the back, but it was always a possibility.
Hanif, who was really the least of Rick's worries, but definitely one of his biggest detractors, said again, "Andreas was a coward. He had not the courage to lead the Med-jai, so he threw himself upon his sword at his first opportunity." Now there was an interesting take on the subject. In Rick's opinion, the late chieftain suffered from a lack of judgment, rather than a lack of courage, and he knew enough men like Andreas Bey (and himself) to know the difference between the two flaws.
"Hanif, for all his flaws, Andreas was no coward. He was reckless and self-centered, but not a coward. Ardeth's greatest flaw is that he fails to take care of himself. Now, there will be no more talk of Andreas Bey on this night. It will only upset our chieftain, and tomorrow is a day of great joy. Now, Nicodemus, I am told that you sing quite well. . .will you sing for us, for our chieftain's wedding?" Garai asked.
Successfully diverted, the young man sang in a language which was oddly familiar to Rick. The other men, except for Jonathan, sang along, including Ardeth. And that was strange enough. Stranger still, when Rick looked again at his friend, he found tears streaming down Ardeth's face. Garai stopped singing briefly and whispered, "My chieftain has never been given an opportunity to mourn his brother, or even his father. Always, he takes care of his people. Never himself."
Rick swallowed hard. Ardeth was singing through his tears, and the American gently wrapped his arm around Ardeth's shoulders. Jonathan watched, his eyes showing a peculiar sadness, and Rick didn't understand that, either. However, he decided it was best not to find out, and instead, he just sang along. He kept his arm around Ardeth, feeling his friend's body tremble with long-suppressed sobs.
"I am so tired, O'Connell," Ardeth whispered, but Rick had a strange sense that he didn't even realize he said it. He tightened his grasp on his friend, gently rocking from side to side. Another bottle was pressed into Ardeth's hand, and for the first time, Rick truly understood what he did. He forgot that alcohol smashed all inhibitions. Self-control was a thing of memory, and tonight's festivities knocked a huge hole in the self- control Ardeth fostered over the years.
Of course he was tired. For sixteen years. . .no. No, this began years before his brother's death. Ardeth never allowed himself to mourn his father's death, either. And he was only thirteen when Suleiman Bey died in battle. Twenty years of suppressed emotions were coming out. He was afraid that Ardeth would be a mean drunk, but it never even occurred to him that so many ancient hurts would be released. However, as Rick's eyes met Garai's, some of his regret started to ease.
Garai knew this would happen. He knew that alcohol would decrease Ardeth's self-control, and he went along with it. Because he wanted. . .because tomorrow marked a new beginning for Ardeth, and it was time to release some of that grief and hurt. Rick understood now. Garai held his eyes a moment longer, then his eyes slid toward Ardeth. Rick's plans of getting him thoroughly drunk vanished in that moment.
It was too late to do anything about the hangover he knew Ardeth would have. But it wasn't too late for him to do something else. Rick drew his friend's head to rest on his shoulder, whispering, "Then sleep, Ardeth. Nothing will happen to you as long as we're here. Just sleep." Ardeth fought it at first. Of course he would. Ardeth Bey was a warrior, first, last, and always. He fought sleep as fiercely as he fought Imhotep, as fiercely as he fought falling in love with Celia.
But in the end, his body was exhausted, along with his spirit, and slowly, Rick felt the tension ease from his friend's body. When Ardeth was a dead weight against him, the American gently eased Ardeth down, to make him more comfortable. Nicodemus gently covered the sleeping chieftain with a blanket, while Rick and Garai both kept their hands on Ardeth's back and shoulder. Silence fell in the tent. Then Garai asked, "Shall I tell you stories of the little boy he was?" Rick looked at the warrior with an inquiring grin, and the old warrior said, "Pass around more bottles, Hanif. . .I have many stories to tell."
. . .
The rest of the night passed with much merriment. Strangely enough, the laughter did not awaken Ardeth. Poor man, must have been exhausted. That wasn't the surprise, at least, not to Jonathan. What did surprise him was Rick's extraordinary gentleness with their Med-jai friend. Especially after Ardeth fell asleep, Jonathan's brother-in-law kept his hand on Ardeth's shoulder. Not something Jonathan expected from Rick, especially not in regards to Ardeth. Perhaps Ardeth mentioning how much Rick reminded him of his older brother caused the change in Rick's attitude.
Or maybe it was the alcohol. As the night wore on, the bottles circulated, and Jonathan had his fair share, but he built up a tolerance over the years. One by one, each men fell asleep. Jonathan remained awake. He told Celia the truth, and she was still his friend. He hadn't meant to tell her that Alex was his son by blood. It just slipped out. And he saw the conflict in her eyes. There was a part of her which wanted to chastise him for his irresponsibility, but instead, she told him that she would not judge him. That she *would* keep his secret. It was asking a lot, but he appreciated it.
Ardeth was a lucky man. Celia wasn't a beautiful woman, in the way Evy was. She would never be beautiful in the conventional sense. But she was brave and kind, honorable and loyal. What more could any man ask? But yes, he rather thought that Ardeth *did* know how lucky he was. Just as Rick understood how lucky he was to have Evy. And Alex. And the coming baby, whom Evy swore was a little girl.
Jonathan wasn't entirely sure when he fell asleep. . .but he did know he was awakened by a soft groan. The groan was followed by another noise, which was entirely too familiar to Jonathan. Someone was either vomiting or retching. Jonathan opened his eyes, mentally checking off everyone who was in the tent. Rick, Hanif, Garai, Nicodemus. . .where was Ardeth? Outside. It was Ardeth he was hearing.
The other men were still asleep, and Jonathan carefully got to his feet. He picked up the blanket, especially when he realized it was still night. He found Ardeth behind the tent on his knees, doubled over. Jonathan cringed in sympathy. His arm was pressed to his stomach as another spasm wracked his body, and the Englishman walked over to his friend, carefully draping the blanket over the trembling shoulders.
"Easy," Jonathan soothed as Ardeth moaned quietly in distress, "easy. Jjust about done there, old boy?" The raven head bobbed once, and Jonathan continued, "Alright then. We'll sit here another minute or so, while your legs stop shaking a little, then we'll go back into the tent so you can get some rest." Again, Ardeth nodded, and Jonathan dared to put his hand on his friend's back, rubbing his hand back and forth.
"Allah have mercy on me for my stupidity. . .Horus and Isis, too," Ardeth muttered as he rolled away from the mess, his face ashen and sweaty. Jonathan discreetly kicked sand over the remains, both solid and liquid, then put a gentle arm around the Med-jai's waist. By the gods, he was shaking so badly. Ardeth whispered, "Forgive me, my friend, for disturbing your sleep. I hoped not to wake you or the others."
"Think nothing of it, old boy," Jonathan said lightly, carefully guiding his friend to the tent. By some minor miracle, they navigated around the sleeping men, until they reached Ardeth's bedroll. Jonathan gently eased his friend down, feeling the tremors that racked Ardeth's body. Poor man, felt like death warmed over. Jonathan was familiar with the feeling. . .though long years had passed since the first time he got drunk.
The Englishman covered his friend with the blanket. Ardeth was still a little drunk, Jonathan realized, as he was rambling in a strange mix of Arabic, ancient Egyptian, English, and a half dozen other languages. Jonathan caught maybe a third of what he was saying, until Ardeth went abruptly silent. For a long, terrifying moment, Jonathan was afraid that Ardeth would be sick again, until he realized that Ardeth was shaking too badly for him to speak.
Jonathan lifted Ardeth up, blanket and all, easing behind the younger man, then pulled his friend against his chest. He held Ardeth to warm his friend. Ardeth asked sleepily, "Why did you do that, Jonathan?" The Englishman carefully arranged the blanket more firmly around his friend, hoping Ardeth would fall back asleep, or just forget he asked that. No such luck. Ardeth's breathing remained the same, and it forced Jonathan to think about why he took the actions he did.
"Well, for one thing. . .because you're cold. Shivering. The blanket can only warm you up so much," Jonathan said with a sigh. There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and the Englishman continued, "And. . .well, because sometimes even a great and mighty chieftain of a great and mighty people needs to be held. Your wife to be isn't here, and nor is my. . .our. . . sister. But this is what I would do for her, or for Alex. It's only right that I do it for you."
Ardeth's breathing started to slow and and even out, but he was still fighting sleep. Damn stubborn man. But it turned out the alcohol had complications that they never considered. Jonathan learned that when Ardeth's sleepy voice informed him, "Rameses knew that Nassor loved him. He could not love him, not the way he loved Ardath. He was afraid that he would destroy Nassor, just as he destroyed Ardath."
Dear God. Rameses figured out the secret Nassor kept from him for decades. Jonathan said heavily, "Rameses was not responsible for the death of his Lady. But he could never accept that, and because he could not accept that, he shut himself off from love entirely. In all of its forms. He could no longer accept the love of his father or his sister. Nor could he accept the love of his son."
"Aywa. He believed he did not deserve it. I am afraid I do not deserve it, either, Jonathan. I am afraid I will be a bad husband for Celia, a bad husband and a bad father," Ardeth confessed in a childlike voice. Jonathan swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to that. To give himself time to think, the Englishman just hugged his friend. And a moment later, it was unnecessary for him to say anything, because Ardeth added, "I miss my father, Jonathan. I miss my brother. Andreas gave Horus to me, did you know that?"
'My best and most clever friend,' Ardeth said at Izzy's airfield, and now Jonathan learned that Horus was a final gift from a beloved older brother. Before Jonathan could answer, the young chieftain murmured, "Andreas gave Horus to me when I became a warrior, and received our sacred markings. And now Horus is gone. Just like Andreas. Just like my father." The grief in his voice was almost more than Jonathan could bear.
So he latched onto the one thing that could make things right. It sounded so foolish, but it was the only thing Jonathan could think of. He replied, "But you have Celia and Miranda. You have Rick and Evy, you have me, you have Alex." Ardeth's eyes went wide with wonderment. It was as if he never thought about the O'Connells in such a way. But it was true, Ardeth was part of their family. Jonathan continued, "We can't bring your father or your brother back. Or Horus. But you have your mother, your sisters, your niece and nephew, your brother. And you always will have us."
"Shukran, my friend. I am very tired, Jonathan. I will sleep now," Ardeth replied. He gave a little sigh and his eyes drifted shut. Jonathan didn't move at first. He didn't want to wake Ardeth. But as the moments passed, and Ardeth's body grew heavier, Jonathan gently lay his friend down properly. He stopped shivering as badly. That was good. He carefully arranged the blanket around Ardeth once more.
"Then sleep, Ardeth, and have wonderful dreams, my friend. Dream of your wife," Jonathan whispered. He sat down beside Ardeth, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, just as Rick did when Ardeth fell asleep. Jonathan knew that he would never return to his own dreams. So, instead, he would stay awake and keep watch over his friend. The following day, Ardeth would be married, and Jonathan intended to see to it that the wedding took place.
. . .
Ohhh. . .gods. What happened to him? Rick O'Connell peeled back one eyelid, groaning anew when the light struck his eyes. An annoyingly cheerful voice exclaimed, "Oh, good, you're awake. Up you get! We're helping Ardeth get ready for his wedding this evening, remember?" Rick glared at his brother-in-law, who was looking entirely too chipper for someone who got drunker than a skunk the night before. And what the hell did happen the previous night?
Oh. That's right. Rick's bachelor party for Ardeth. Rick smiled faintly, thinking about the rare glimpse he had into his friend the night before. He thought about teasing Ardeth about falling asleep the way he had, against Rick, and Jonathan said in a voice utterly devoid of humor, "Oh, and Rick? If you say a word to Ardeth about last night, if you tease him in any way, I'll tell Evy that you told Celia about Ardeth's inexperience."
That jolted Rick awake in a hurry. He stared at his brother-in-law in shock, wondering if Nassor hadn't decided to come back while Jonathan was asleep. But he found Evy's brother staring back at him with no small amount of determination. Also some apprehension, but the determination was stronger. Jonathan added grimly, "Today is Ardeth's wedding day, and I intend to make sure no one messes it up."
Rick was still too hungover to bother being angry with Jonathan, so he just groaned and dropped his head back onto the pillow. After a moment, he muttered, "If I promise not to tease Ardeth, will you let me die in peace?" Jonathan laughed, pushing the tent flap back. Rick allowed himself a hiss of pain as the sunlight hit his painfully sensitive eyes. That was obviously a 'no.'
"It's almost noon, old boy, and Hanif and Garai took Ardeth to be washed. It was quite amazing, actually, he was in better shape this morning than you were. Especially since it was his first time getting drunk. He woke up on his own about two hours ago, and he was quite the man about it. No whining or whimpering like you are," Jonathan replied. Rick raised his head from the pillow and glared at Jonathan for all he was worth.
But Jonathan didn't look scared. Instead, he continued lightly, "Oh, by the way. Just so you know. Ardeth has asked you and me, along with Hanif and Garai, to stand with him at the wedding. So you have to get up now, Rick." The American looked at Jonathan in confusion, knowing that somewhere in that mess of words was something that he needed to know.
Impatiently, Jonathan sighed, "Rick. Get your lazy arse out of bed. Ardeth needs us. Remember how you were when you and Evy got married?" Rick did indeed. To say that he was a nervous wreck was an understatement. Jonathan continued, "Ardeth is a hundred times worse. You know he actually asked this morning if I thought Celia would back out of the marriage? The very idea!" Jonathan actually sounded scandalized.
Rick looked at his brother-in-law suspiciously, wondering when the hell Jonathan became so protective of Ardeth. He asked slowly, "Are you sure that you're not like Nassor?" Jonathan's blue eyes narrowed, and his entire body went rigid. Apparently, he had *no* problem understanding what Rick meant, and for the first time since meeting the Englishman, Rick O'Connell actually found himself unnerved.
"I will consider that to be the alcohol. I do have Nassor's memories, yes. But I am not him. As much as I care for Ardeth, it is a different sort of affection than what you have in mind. He is my friend, Rick. The man who put your son above his own people, above his own life, remember? When I was a child, and annoyed that I had a little sister, I wished for a brother. Ardeth is the son my father wanted. The kind of son any man with sense would want!" Jonathan fired back.
Rick started to say something, only to realize that he had nothing to say. Jonathan glared at him bitterly, then continued, "Now. Perhaps Ardeth doesn't have your idea of a sense of humor. God knows I thought for a long time that he had no sense of humor at all. And maybe he has this unnerving tendency to show up when all hell is breaking loose. But he has always been there for our family, Rick. He has always come through for us. He has asked us to stand with him, because his father and older brother are dead. I for one don't intend to let him down. Again."
With that, Jonathan stormed out of the tent. Rick dropped back to his pallet with a groan. Things were looking shitty and it was only noon. He had to get cleaned up, then see about whatever Ardeth needed him to do. But before he went anywhere, he had to figure out what Jonathan meant about them letting Ardeth down. . .again. Sure, they raised Imhotep after Ardeth told them to leave Hamunaptra, and they took the Bracelet of Anubis, but better them than Meela and company, right?
After a few moments, he finally pushed himself into a kneeling position, then got to his feet. He hated hangovers. And Ardeth's wasn't that bad? Rick would hurt him. It wasn't bad enough that Ardeth was almost always right, it wasn't bad enough that the man was too damn self- sacrificing for his own good (okay, that was redundant, but Rick didn't care about thinking coherently right now). Oh no. No, he had to get a minor hangover the first time he was drunk!
He groaned again as he stumbled from the tent, belatedly remembering that he didn't know where the baths were. Then he saw Garai come out of a tent, and Rick stumbled in that general direction, cussing out whoever or whatever just tripped him up. Even if it was the damn sand. Still grumbling, Rick made his way over to the tent, and Garai said gravely, "I am glad to see you no worse for wear, O'Connell."
"That's a matter of opinion," the American grumbled as Garai led him insidet. He couldn't make heads or tales out of what his brother-in-law said. Ardeth, who never got drunk before, had a lesser hangover than he did, and Rick's head felt like it would come off his shoulders. Then he got hit in the face with a blast of steam, and Rick swore ripely. This day would end badly, he knew it!
A sleepy voice chastised him in Arabic, and Rick's attention was drawn in the direction of the voice. He found Ardeth sitting in a tub of water, his head resting against the rim. His hair was soaking wet, and as Rick came closer, he discovered that Ardeth's eyes were closed. An evil thought crossed his mind, and Rick approached. But just as he was getting ready to dunk Ardeth under the water, his friend's eyes opened and he said in English, "I would not advise that."
Rick pouted, replying, "You spoil all my fun! Besides, I thought you were half-asleep. Were you trying to trick me?" Ardeth just gave him a sleepy, albeit mischievous, smile, and the American snorted, "Yeah. I should have known. What do you need me to do?" Ardeth straightened in the tub, and Rick winced at the accompanying pops and cracks as his friend's spine realigned itself.
"Hanif is gathering my clothes, and Garai is standing guard. Jonathan is taking care of the women. . .not like that, O'Connell, so please stop glowering at me. I need you to take care of my weapons," Ardeth replied. Rick raised his eyebrows at that, and Ardeth explained patiently (reminding Rick of Evy explaining something to Alex), "My dagger and my sword are part of my ceremonial robes, O'Connell."
Oh. That made sense. In a roundabout Med-jai sort of way. Rick asked, "Sooo, what do you need me to do? Clean them? Sharpen them?" Ardeth closed his eyes and allowed his head to slump back against the rim of the tub once more with a crack that made Rick's own head hurt. And yet, the Med-jai didn't make a single noise of pain. There were times when Rick really hated that guy. No question.
"I need you to bring them to me, O'Connell. I will see to their cleaning and sharpening, once I am finished with my own. . .grooming," Ardeth replied. It didn't miss Rick's notice that his friend stumbled over that last word.
It didn't escape Garai's notice, either, for the older man said, "Be easy, Ardeth, there is no reason for concern." Rick raised an eyebrow, and Garai added, gently teasing the younger warrior, "Although, some of the young maidens may swoon when they receive a reminder of what their chieftain looks like under the sand and dust that accumulates out here." Ardeth glared at his old friend, and Rick just laughed.
"It is true, though," Hanif said, returning with an armful of clothes, "those of us who have sisters, often hear how our chieftain takes so little interest in his own appearance, and yet, he is one of the most handsome men in all twelve tribes. So I've been told. And some of our warriors do take pride in their appearance. . .maybe more pride in their appearance than in their skills or the condition of their weapons."
By this time, Ardeth was blushing so furiously, Rick wouldn't have been surprised if they could see the resulting glow in Europe. Funny. His big, tough, deadly friend was embarrassed because the girls in his tribe thought him handsome. Rick wondered what Evy would make of that. Doubtless, she would smack him if he even thought about teasing Ardeth. Well, he didn't see Evy anywhere around. . .so where would the harm be?
The day passed fairly quickly. Celia left Jonathan's tent after swearing to keep his secret. She checked to make sure the coast was clear, then she made her way toward the main part of the camp, where she encountered her fiance. Tonight, at the dance everyone was talking about, she would tell Ardeth about her visit to Jonathan. She did not believe he would find it a problem, since Jonathan was practically her brother, but if someone saw her, and wanted to make an issue out of it, then it was better if Ardeth was prepared with knowledge beforehand.
She spoke with Hanif on her way to Evy's tent, then she and Evy went to Altair's tent to work on the clothes together. The two Western women were silent for the first few hours, while they worked. . .at least until the conversation came to that most fascinating of subjects: the wedding night. That reminded Celia, and she asked, looking up from her sewing, "I meant to ask you, since it's just us girls. How do I undo the sash which holds Ardeth's robes in place?"
The reaction wasn't the one she anticipated. Aleta and Acacia, who just returned from parts unknown, looked at each other. . .and then giggled. Yes. . .the sisters actually giggled. Not laughed, not chuckled, but giggled. Mystified, Celia looked at Evy, who looked as confused as Celia felt. Altair looked at her daughters reprovingly, before telling Celia, "Forgive these foolish girls, my daughter. It is simply something with which you need not concern yourself."
Ooh-kay. Whatever *that* mean. Seeing her confusion, Altair continued, "You see, dear girl, when a chieftain. . .or a young man in line to become chieftain. . .takes a bride, there is a very special custom after the ceremony. In this particular ritual, the young chieftain removes his sash and his robes, leaving him clad only in his trousers. He lights candles within the tent for his bride, and then waits for her in a kneeling position."
Celia felt her face burn with embarrassment, but they weren't finished. Acacia, who now had control of her giggles, explained, "When his bride enters the tent, her escort remains outside to fasten the tent flap. The chieftain tells his new bride, 'just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine.' Personally, I think that is why Ardeth waited so long to take a bride!"
Aleta whacked her sister in the back of her head, scolding, "Sister! That is most unkind!" She stopped, thought about it, then added ruefully, "On the other hand, I cannot say that Ardeth is not proud. He is very proud, and for him to be willing to humble himself in such a way. . .yes, I do believe he loves you." Again, Celia blushed, and Aleta changed the subject, saying, "And tonight, we dance to your fertility, my sister."
"And to celebrate my brother's long-overdue marriage, I have enlisted more dancers. Anissa and her daughter Ishtar will dance with us, and Ishtar will speak to her friends," Acacia put in. She paused, her eyes becoming almost sly, and she added, "Anissa gladly agreed to dance for you, Celia, and asked that you dance with us. It is hardly often that someone will stand up to Sanure, and for that, Anissa is grateful."
Celia nodded, though she had no clue what any of that meant. And Rick O'Connell claimed that Ardeth was hard to follow at times! But something else Acacia said caught her attention, and Celia asked curiously, "You said that Anissa's daughter was named 'Ishtar,' correct?" Acacia nodded, and Celia continued, "But that's. . . Persian? Or something along those lines, it's not an Egyptian name."
"No, but nor is 'Acacia,' 'Aleta,' 'Ardeth' or 'Anatol,' my daughter," Altair pointed out. Well, Celia could hardly argue with that, and her mother-in-law continued, "The Med-jai have come into contact with many, many people through the centuries. Persians, Greeks, Romans, Mesopotamians. Just as Islam has touched the Med-jai, so too have names from other cultures. 'Ishtar' is but one example."
"Oh. Okay. I see," Celia replied. And she did. Sort of. She looked at her best friend, asking, "What about you, Evy? Do you think you'll be up to dancing?" Evy looked down at her middle, a nice little bump, then shook her head. Celia grinned impishly, and Evy scowled at her in mock indignation. Celia continued, "Well, maybe you're right. Can I sit out the first few minutes, Acacia, until I see what you're doing?"
"Of course, my sister. Join us whenever you're ready. And Evelyn O'Connell can do other things to ensure your fertility when you join with my brother," Acacia replied. Aleta added something in Arabic, laughing, and Evy turned bright red with embarrassment. The other women in the tent laughed as well, including Altair. Which truly surprised Celia, given the way Evy was blushing at the moment.
Celia, whose own Arabic was quite lacking, decided she *really* didn't want to know what her sister-in-law just said. Evy said somewhat tartly, "As our shared brother has been known to say on occasion, I think NOT!" The entire tent erupted into laughter at that, even Celia, who had no idea what was suggested. One thing was sure, though. This would be a *very* interesting night! Evy added, trying desperately to regain her composure, "Anyone up for storytelling?"
"What sorts of stories would you mean, sister?" Acacia asked, shifting her weight ever so slightly. Celia looked over at the raven- haired woman, who continued, "I mean, I have many, many stories I can tell Celia about our dear brother. Many of which, I know she has never heard." Evy grinned and nodded. Celia glared at her best friend, and Acacia added hopefully, "And you have stories as well, Evelyn?"
"Of course I do, that's why I asked!" Evy answered sweetly, and the tent erupted in laughter once more. She grinned, adding, "Now, my first story takes place on the dirigible, while we were tracking down Imhotep." Celia raised her eyebrows, sensing this was quite an interesting story in and of itself. The dirigible, she knew, belonged to Izzy, the man who helped them to rescue Miranda. And he was quite the character, so this would be an interesting story!
. . .
It took Evy thirty minutes to quit blushing after Aleta's suggestion was made, even as she told her stories. However, she thought more about what was said. She heard of the custom among the Med-jai women, and one of them was kind enough to explain it to her. At first, it sounded a bit. . .well, it made Evy a bit uncomfortable. She simply wasn't used to being that close to a member of her own gender.
The old woman told her, "If you wish your friend to be fertile, you can offer yourself as an escort to her husband's tent, to the tent of our chieftain. Once you reach the tent, take her in your arms, your swollen belly pressing into hers, so she can feel the movement of your child, and whisper, 'may Taueret bless you.' This may be said in Arabic, in Egyptian, or in English. It matters not. The words are irrelevant, for it is the desire behind the words which matter."
Evy thought about the actual practice all the time they were sewing, and through dinner, even when the dance started. What was so strange about what they were suggesting? She leads her best friend to her new husband's tent, hugs her, wishes her many pregnancies and many children. What was so odd about that? Perhaps the way it was worded, which was so explicit, so graphic. But the sentiment made sense.
As the dancers filed into the circle, Evy observed Celia leaning over to speak to Ardeth. He looked at her in silence as she spoke, then he smiled, cupping her face in his hand, and kissed her. Evy looked away discreetly, feeling like a voyeur. Now she knew how Alex, Jonathan, and Ardeth felt every time they caught her and Rick kissing! It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. But she was still glad to see Ardeth happy.
She turned her attention back to the dancers, her breath catching in her throat as their feet pounded in the sand, arms waving above their heads, and their bodies undulating in time to the primeval rhythm. The strange thing was, Evy couldn't locate the source of the music. As she looked around in confusion, the dancers broke rank, and Acacia leaped out in front. Evy glanced over at her friend, to find Celia staring at the dancers with a rapt expression.
The Englishwoman caught her breath once more at her friend's dazed face. She looked as though she was in a trance. As though. . .as though she was remembering something. Acacia strode out and held out her hand to Celia, pulling the American woman to her feet. Celia was drawn into the center, the dancers continuing their ritual, and began swaying in time to the music. Her eyes closed, her feet beat out a rhythm counter to the one provided by the unseen musicians. But at the same time, it seemed to match. And instead of lifting her arms to the sky, Celia wrapped them around her waist, then drew them up to cross over her chest as she sank slowly to her knees.
The circle expanded out around her, each Med-jai woman dancing and leaping as Celia writhed in the center, her dark hair swaying about her shoulders. But what really made Evy's blood run cold was the way Celia's face was directed toward Ardeth. As if she was dancing for *him.* And with that thought, Evy found herself back in ancient Egypt, found herself once more the princess Nefertiri.
**Seti the First loved entertainment. Whether it was watching half- naked women fight or hearing about his son's exploits in battle, it mattered little. On this particular night, he clapped his hands and called, "I would see a dance!" At this time, he just chose Anck-su-namun as his new mistress, just as Rameses chose Ardath as his own concubine. The pharaoh's eyes lit on the young girl, and he said with a smile, "Ardath! Your people, the Israelites, they dance, do they not? Show us then! Show us one of their dances!"
Ardath looked shyly at Rameses, who nodded encouragingly, then made her way out to the floor. She stamped her foot three times, then began to dance. However, Nefertiri never saw any of the Israelite slaves dance like this. It was a purely sensual dance, one that made her brother's eyes darken with desire. That was the point, for Ardath was dancing solely for him. Nefertiri could see it in her eyes, in the way she danced. In the way Ardath never took her eyes off Rameses. She was seducing him without even touching him, and Rameses was falling even further under her spell.
At last, Ardath slumped to the ground, her forehead almost touching the cold marble floor. Seti stared at his son's concubine in shock and said, "My dear girl. I have never seen such a dance from the Israelites! Rise, child, arise!" Ardath pushed herself to her feet, looking sweaty and exhausted. Anck-su-namun bolted from Seti's side and raced out to her friend, putting a bracing arm around Ardath's waist.
"That is because, my pharaoh, it is not of the Israelites. I. . .have vague memories. From before. When I was a small child. That dance. . ." Ardath paused, grimacing as she pressed her hand to her chest. Anck- su-namun tightened her arms about her waist protectively, her expression showing anxiety, then Ardath continued, "That dance comes from the land where I was born. It was a dance of fertility. . .fertility for the crops, fertility for the women. That is the only dance I remember."
"A dance of fertility! You little foreign slut!" Khaldun roared and bolted to his feet. Anck-su-namun had no time to react as the prince backhanded Ardath hard across her face. The blow sent both girls sprawling, Anck-su-namun rolling protectively over her friend. Khaldun was known for his brutality, and Nefertiri feared her cousin would beat Ardath in front of everyone. He would find it necessary to go through Anck-su- namun, though, if he wished to hurt Ardath. Fortunately, though Nefertiri liked neither girl, it never happened. At the same time Khaldun left his seat, Rameses left his own.
Before Khaldun could strike out at either girl a second time, Rameses caught his cousin's wrist, hissing, "Have a care, cousin. That is my woman you just struck, and I'll not allow one such as yourself to harm her. Concubine she may be, but my Ardath is as good as any royal whore who has parted her legs for you!" There was a gasp among those gathered, but before Khaldun could react, Seti clapped his hands.
Within moments, the Med-jai surrounded the prince, who was glowering at Rameses. However, Nefertiri's brother turned his back on their cousin, and gently helped both girls to their feet. He kept a protective arm around his unsteady concubine, asking Anck-su-namun with a glance if she was hurt. Shakir Bey, then a boy, placed his sword alongside Khaldun's throat and asked with a low growl, "Shall I cut his throat, my lord?"
"No, young Med-jai. However, I would ask that you escort my nephew to the city's limits. He is to be banished for a period of no less than three months. I asked the child to dance for me, Khaldun, not for you. It is not for you to question the dance she chooses. Should you return before those three months are up, I will allow Shakir Bey to slit your throat. Go!" Seti ordered. The Med-jai hustled the seething prince from the room, and Seti turned his attention to his son and Ardath.
"And you, my son. I know you wish to protect what is yours. . .but be more circumspect in the future, if you please. Child, you danced well for me. One day, I would like to see this dance performed again, but only after you are healed. Rameses, take your concubine back to her chambers. Imhotep, go with them, my high priest. Make sure that young fool did not damage her too greatly," Seti replied.**
Evy came back to herself with a gasp. She blinked. . .yes, she was back in twentieth century Egypt. The night was eerily silent, and Evy looked to the center of the circle. Celia was on her knees, her shoulders bowed. The only sound Evy heard was her friend's harsh breathing. Then the whispers came, "She knows the dance!" *Of course she does, idiots,* Evy thought scathingly, *she brought that dance to Egypt three thousand years ago, when she was Lady Ardath!*
There were three sharp claps, and the other dancers sank to the ground, mirroring Celia's posture. Ardeth rose to his feet and walked slowly to the center of the circle. He knelt beside his fiancee, putting his arm around her shoulders. Something was whispered between them, and Celia nodded. Ardeth helped her to her feet, then looked at the people surrounding the circle and said, "I told you weeks ago that my chosen is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. Now you see the truth."
At his words, Acacia rose to her feet, drawing up the other dancers as well. The young woman chanted something which Evy didn't recognize, and the other dancers took up the chant. The Med-jai had their own language, even in ancient times. It was how they communicated when they were among people they did not know, and did not trust. Celia straightened up, though Evy could see the pain in her eyes.
She whispered something to Ardeth, who motioned Acacia over. The Med- jai woman put her arm around Celia's waist, in an eerie repeat of Anck-su- namun's own actions three thousand years earlier, then the other dancers surrounded her. Evy was immensely grateful that Miranda was already in bed, being watched over by Jonathan. The little girl would have had a very difficult time seeing her mother so exhausted.
Ardeth told his people in Arabic that the dance was concluded, and it was an obvious dismissal. Acacia and the dancers led Celia to her own tent, while Altair peeled off to retrieve Miranda. Ardeth came over to Rick and Evy, both men helping her to her feet, and said, "You recognized the dance, did you not, Evelyn?" The Englishwoman nodded, touching his shoulder gently, and he sighed, "As did I. It awakened memories."
He took a deep breath, then asked, "I would ask you to stay with my Celia tonight, Evelyn. Would you do this for me?" Evy just looked at him. He should have known better, should have known that he didn't have to ask. But she smiled, because he did ask, and reached up on her toes to lightly kiss his cheek. He smiled back at her, his dark eyes reflecting an all too familiar weariness as he murmured, "Shukran."
She answered him in the same language, then set out toward Celia's tent. As she did, she noticed a peculiar expression on her darling husband's face. He was up to something. Evy was quite sure he was up to something. The question was, what?
. . .
The arrangements for the impromptu Med-jai bachelor party were made. Rick knew from stray comments that Jonathan would be free once Altair returned Miranda to her mother. However, it became quite clear that Rick would need more help than just Jonathan. To that end, he tracked down Garai, Hanif and Nicodemus. He had a plan how to get their cooperation. He didn't need it, since all three thought it was a wonderful idea. They didn't trust Rick, but one problem at a time.
Ardeth's wedding wouldn't take place until late afternoon. The worst of the heat would be over, which also gave Ardeth time to lose his hangover. If he had one. Rick smiled grimly. If he didn't, then Rick would hurt him, especially since the American's own hangovers were usually nothing short of catastrophic. Yeah. He would definitely have to hurt Ardeth if the Med-jai, who was never drunk before, didn't have an equally bad hangover. In fact, Rick was relatively sure that Jonathan would help him with that, considering how bad Jonathan's own hangovers were.
Unwittingly, Ardeth played into Rick's hands when he asked Evy to stay with Celia. And wasn't that dance weird? From Evy's expression, Rick could tell she was having another flashback to good old ancient Egypt again. Sure, Evy's flashbacks began months earlier, with the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, but it seemed as if the reunion between Nefertiri and Ardath brought forth more memories.
Rick was sure there was a very good explanation for that, but at the moment, he wasn't interested in it. He just knew that every time he turned around, Evy was having another flashback, and Rick's own memories were slow in returning. They were returning just enough to make him aware that once again, Ardeth was right. There were times when Rick really hated him for that.
Of course, when Ardeth didn't know something, it was usually a doozy. Like when he hadn't known that the bracelet would kill Alex at the end of those seven days. Rick would never forget the look of shock on his friend's face when Evy asked him about it, only days after they all met up in Cairo again. He reacted almost the same as when Rick told him about explaining to Celia about. . .well. . .that.
There was no betrayal in his eyes at that time, only shock and a quiet rage that began to develop once he realized that something was kept from him. Ardeth Bey did *not* like it when he was lacking information that he might need. Didn't like that one bit, oh no, not at all. Whatever problems Rick might have had with his friend in the past, keeping information from them was never among them. In fact, he was a little too generous with details, as far as Rick was concerned.
It occurred to him as he drew Ardeth into the tent that Ardeth might be even more generous with details, with his tongue loosened by alcohol. They just didn't know what he might do. Hell, to the best of Rick's knowledge, Ardeth never even got drunk. . .they had no way of knowing how the alcohol would affect him. Rick wondered uneasily if this was such a good idea. For all he knew, Ardeth could be a nasty drunk. Not that Rick thought that was particularly likely. . .
But he was committed now, and there was no backing out. Hanif already had a bottle out (Rick sure hoped he didn't have patrol the following day), and Jonathan was sorting through the bottles. Garai said with a broad smile, "Welcome, my chieftain, to our celebration of your last night as an unmarried man!" Rick glanced at Ardeth from the corner of his eye, and almost laughed aloud at the expression on his friend's face. Ardeth Bey at a loss. . .the mind boggled.
"Yes, Chieftain. . .we celebrate you and our new queen. Who is already showing she belongs among the Med-jai," Nicodemus put in, handing a bottle to Rick. He paused, then asked innocently, "Chieftain, have you ever had such a night before? When your only responsibility is to enjoy yourself?" Rick blinked at the boy. Huh? Where did that come from? He wasn't the only one. Ardeth was staring in absolute shock. He was beginning to enjoy seeing that look on Ardeth's face, if he was really honest about it.
"Of course not, you little idiot," Hanif retorted (conveniently ignoring that he was only a few years older than Nicodemus), "our chieftain has never been married before!" Nicodemus glared at him, a growl beginning deep in his throat. Garai rolled his eyes and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, restraining him from doing anything stupid. Like attacking Hanif in full view of their chieftain.
"That is enough, both of you. This is a celebration, what O'Connell calls a bachelor party. Ardeth, sit. The Commanders will deal with any problems. For tonight, you are simply another young warrior who has at last found the missing piece of his heart," Garai said. Rick was stunned when Ardeth simply sat down, and the taller man looked at the old man. Garai shrugged and said, "I have known Ardeth his entire life. He is our chieftain, but I am still a warrior with more years."
"What. . .might I ask. . .is a bachelor party?" Ardeth finally managed to ask. The poor man looked utterly shocked by what was going on. Rick just patted his shoulder, grinning impishly, and Ardeth added, "O'Connell? This was your idea?" The American nodded, and Ardeth asked next, sounding more than a little wary, "Will I find it necessary to strike you again?"
"Why did you strike O'Connell, Ardeth? I am sure he deserved it, but why?" Hanif asked. Rick looked over at the young man, who already downed half a bottle of whatever he was drinking. The American didn't ask. He didn't want to know. While he was reasonably certain that Ardeth never got drunk, he wasn't as sure about the other Med-jai. Ardeth took his responsibilities seriously. . .and he had a lot more responsibility than a young warrior like Hanif or Nicodemus.
"I struck O'Connell because. . .would you like to explain this, O'Connell, since you derive such amusement from it?" Ardeth asked, accepting the bottle which Garai handed him. Rick winced a bit at the question. Okay. Looked like Ardeth still didn't totally forgive him for that. Then again, Ardeth had a habit of asking questions, which told Rick when he had a chance to stop and think, just how badly he hurt Ardeth.
'Glad to see me now?' Ardeth asked him as they raced away from the museum, Imhotep's Mummy Warriors in hot pursuit. At the time, Rick gave the question little thought, but later. . .later, after Ardeth collapsed at his feet, the American found himself regretting the brutal reception he gave his friend. Remembering that guilt, and the heightened remorse he felt after Evy let him have it both barrels, Rick replied now, "I opened my mouth, when I should have kept it shut."
Ardeth took a swig from the bottle, barely even realizing what he was doing. Hanif, who just started his second bottle, retorted, "Well, O'Connell, that is something we expect from you! You open your mouth, and think nothing of what you say next." Garai said something which sounded chastising, and Hanif retorted, "I speak the truth, Garai! I do not know why O'Connell is still here, when there is nothing he needs from Ardeth. Our chieftain calls you his brother, O'Connell, but rest assured. . .the rest of us have no such regard for you."
Oh crap, here they went again. Then again, Rick knew the Med-jai warriors still resented him. Before he could speak, however, Jonathan said, "Enough, my boy, enough. This is a happy occasion. Your chieftain is getting married to a woman who understands about secrets. She'll keep yours, Ardeth. I know she will, because she's kept mine." Now what in the hell did that mean?
Ardeth took another long swig of his drink, then replied, "So she has told me. She told me that she cannot tell me what you and she talked about this morning. . .only that she did speak with you alone. Jonathan, would you be kind enough to retrieve another bottle for me? This one is almost empty, and I find I like what I feel right now. Although, O'Connell and Hanif are in danger of giving me a headache."
It was Garai, however, who passed another bottle to his chieftain. Ardeth accepted it with one hand, while he finished the current bottle, then passed the empty bottle to Rick with his free hand. Rick wondered if Ardeth would be as entertaining as Evy when *she* was drunk, and decided he would probably find out very soon, given Ardeth's inexperience with alcohol. Hanif said contritely, "I apologize, my chieftain, I will say no more."
"Shukran, Hanif, you have my gratitude for that. Now, O'Connell, what exactly is the purpose of a bachelor party?" Ardeth asked. The question surprised Rick. He knew that his friend was educated about Western ways, primarily from his uncle Terrence, the late curator at the Cairo Museum. Maybe Dr Terrence Bey never heard references to a bachelor party, or perhaps he simply didn't think it was appropriate for him to tell his nephew about it.
"Well, buddy, it's not that complicated. The point is just to have fun, and go a little wild. You'll be a married man tomorrow, and it's time you. . ." Rick began. He was on the point of saying, 'let your hair down,' but the alcohol was already starting to take effect. If Ardeth was of a mind to take him literally. . .well, Rick really didn't want to go there. Instead, the American said, "We're gonna get you as drunk as possible, since you have such a hard time lightening up."
"I do *not* have a different. . .difficult. . .time! I simply. . .what was I saying?" Ardeth asked in confusion. Rick almost buried his face in his hands, laughing, but he managed to keep his composure. It was a good thing he did. Ardeth was unpredictable without alcohol in his system. Besides, Ardeth continued after a moment, his eyes brightening, "Oh, I remember now! I simply have no time for your. . .devise. . .diverge. . .your idea of fun, O'Connell."
"He is our chieftain," intoned Nicodemus. If Ardeth was two sheets to the wind, then Nicodemus was five sheets. The kid was wobbling in place. That wasn't so bad, but he was sitting down. On the other hand, at least he *was* sitting down. The young warrior continued, "Chieftain of all Twelve Tribes, servant to our people. He cannot afford your diversions, O'Connell, or many would die. But thank Allah, Geb, Horus and Isis that Ardeth leads us, not his brother Andreas."
"Do not speak ill of the dead, boy," Garai chided. Rick glanced at Ardeth, and found the world shifting under his feet. There were tears in his friend's eyes. Stoic Ardeth, who only collapsed after Alex was taken, had tears in his eyes. Rick didn't know what to do, but the old warrior did. Garai reached over and put his hand on Ardeth's back, saying, "You were just a child at the time, Nicodemus, hardly more than a baby."
"As if that matters! I heard about the stupidity Andreas demonstrated after his sister was raped! My Commander told me when we heard that Lock-nah returned. He told me that Andreas took a nine year old boy to watch him deal with Lock-nah and his men. And instead, that child saw his eldest brother cut down, then had to flee for his life! Andreas was a fool!" Nicodemus fired back, the alcohol making him brave or stupid.
"He was my brother," came the hoarse response from Ardeth. Nicodemus looked back at his chieftain, an apology already on his lips, but Ardeth continued numbly, "He was my brother. I loved him. He loved us. He was not thinking that day. . .he was seeing only our sister. I was thinking. I should have tried harder to convince him, to leave Anatol at home. I could not persuade him. It was my fault."
His voice broke, and Rick squeezed his shoulder, not knowing what to say. Ardeth continued, "You remind me of him, O'Connell. He was. . .he was my big brother. He was loud and brazen and stubborn. More stubborn than I, and I know myself to be stubborn. We all are. But. . . but he loved with everything he was, everything he would ever be. And if you hurt someone he loved, he would hunt you down and destroy you."
Now Rick really didn't know what to say. He swallowed hard, because from what he was told about Andreas Bey, even Rick could see the similarities between himself and the late chieftain. The chieftain whose irresponsibility left his seventeen year old brother with such a heavy burden wasn't so different from Rick at all. It made the American very glad that he faced Ardeth in Hamunaptra, instead of his older brother.
Garai said gently, sounding more like a surrogate father than a fellow warrior, "It was not your fault, lad. You tried to talk reason into him. No one could, Ardeth. Not you. Not me. Not even Altair. And so you did the next best thing, you went along to make sure nothing else went wrong. You are not responsible for your brother's failings. You are not responsible for what came next, either."
Ardeth raised his head, his dark eyes glittering with an old pain as he asked hoarsely, "Am I not? I was captured through my own stupidity, Garai. I could not let Anatol suffer for the stupidity of both of his brothers." Well, that was progress. . .at least he was acknowledging that Andreas was stupid. But what exactly happened that day? Ardeth was captured? He looked at Garai, who looked sad. No. Not just sad. Also frustrated. As if this was a conversation they had in the past.
"For the love of the gods, Ardeth! You were barely more than a child yourself! You had only been a warrior for a year, and it was a clever ambush! And what were you to do? Leave your brother there for the sands? You did the best you could. You were one seventeen year old boy, against twenty men. . .what could you have done differently?" Garai asked. Rick looked between the two men, totally lost.
"He did what his brother failed to do. He protected his little brother, and was tortured as a result," Hanif spat. The hostility in the tent toward Andreas Bey was starting to open doors in Rick's mind. Ardeth said that Rick reminded him of his older brother. He wondered if anyone else saw what Ardeth did. If that was true. . . However, that train of thought derailed when Hanif added, "Andreas was a coward, Ardeth. He would have never made that stand at Ahm Shere as you did."
Rick wondered where the young warrior got that. Ardeth just finished saying that his elder brother would annihilate anyone who harmed his family. That wasn't the mark of a coward. Or. . .or maybe Andreas would have decided that the O'Connell family deserved no backup, for all the times their stupidity and arrogance unleashed an evil upon the world. That was something he heard more than one Med-jai say.
The answer from another member of the group was always the same. 'We do this not for the O'Connells, but for the rest of the world. We do it for Ardeth, who would have faced the Army of Anubis alone, and for the people who have sense enough to leave such things alone.' There was always a long silence as the rest of the group tracked this information through their brains and tried to come up with a suitable response.
And the response which always came was, 'for once. . .just for once, Ardeth should leave the O'Connells to rot in their own blood. They are always in such a hurry to shed Med-jai blood for their fights, but when our chieftain needs them, they are nowhere to be found. Ardeth was shot while protecting the O'Connell woman, and the thanks he got was O'Connell shoving him into a wall. I want it understood, my brothers, that I will never fight for the O'Connells. Only for Ardeth, only for our people.'
There was almost always a snort of laughter, then the warrior who provided the answer in the first place always answered, 'that is the only reason any of us fight, my brother. None of us care anything about the O'Connells, but none of us wish to see Ardeth fight alone to the death. We must not become like Rick O'Connell, though his tattoo marks him as one of us.'
That brought laughter, and someone else saying, 'Hah! O'Connell will never be one of us! He is incapable of caring about people, as Ardeth does.' The party always moved on after that, and Rick always found himself stunned by the level of contempt which the rank and file of the Med-jai held for him. He knew that Ardeth, and his Commanders, were among the few who had any use for him. He knew that Altair Bey regarded him with distrust.
But there was a rawness to the anger of these ordinary warriors, and Rick always watched his back when he was alone in the Med-jai village. And the more he heard such words, the more wary he grew. Especially when he heard them from young warriors, because only ten years earlier, Rick was the same age as these boys. He knew how proud young men such as these could be, and he knew it was only a matter of time before something was attempted.
It would begin, as it always did. . .with the young warriors vocalizing their disgust with the Westerners whom they considered to be lower than camel dung, who had no trouble at all with risking Med-jai blood to clean up the messes they made. And eventually, eventually, the boys would push each other into doing something stupid. Challenging Rick to a fight, or something else. He didn't think any of them would try to stab him in the back, but it was always a possibility.
Hanif, who was really the least of Rick's worries, but definitely one of his biggest detractors, said again, "Andreas was a coward. He had not the courage to lead the Med-jai, so he threw himself upon his sword at his first opportunity." Now there was an interesting take on the subject. In Rick's opinion, the late chieftain suffered from a lack of judgment, rather than a lack of courage, and he knew enough men like Andreas Bey (and himself) to know the difference between the two flaws.
"Hanif, for all his flaws, Andreas was no coward. He was reckless and self-centered, but not a coward. Ardeth's greatest flaw is that he fails to take care of himself. Now, there will be no more talk of Andreas Bey on this night. It will only upset our chieftain, and tomorrow is a day of great joy. Now, Nicodemus, I am told that you sing quite well. . .will you sing for us, for our chieftain's wedding?" Garai asked.
Successfully diverted, the young man sang in a language which was oddly familiar to Rick. The other men, except for Jonathan, sang along, including Ardeth. And that was strange enough. Stranger still, when Rick looked again at his friend, he found tears streaming down Ardeth's face. Garai stopped singing briefly and whispered, "My chieftain has never been given an opportunity to mourn his brother, or even his father. Always, he takes care of his people. Never himself."
Rick swallowed hard. Ardeth was singing through his tears, and the American gently wrapped his arm around Ardeth's shoulders. Jonathan watched, his eyes showing a peculiar sadness, and Rick didn't understand that, either. However, he decided it was best not to find out, and instead, he just sang along. He kept his arm around Ardeth, feeling his friend's body tremble with long-suppressed sobs.
"I am so tired, O'Connell," Ardeth whispered, but Rick had a strange sense that he didn't even realize he said it. He tightened his grasp on his friend, gently rocking from side to side. Another bottle was pressed into Ardeth's hand, and for the first time, Rick truly understood what he did. He forgot that alcohol smashed all inhibitions. Self-control was a thing of memory, and tonight's festivities knocked a huge hole in the self- control Ardeth fostered over the years.
Of course he was tired. For sixteen years. . .no. No, this began years before his brother's death. Ardeth never allowed himself to mourn his father's death, either. And he was only thirteen when Suleiman Bey died in battle. Twenty years of suppressed emotions were coming out. He was afraid that Ardeth would be a mean drunk, but it never even occurred to him that so many ancient hurts would be released. However, as Rick's eyes met Garai's, some of his regret started to ease.
Garai knew this would happen. He knew that alcohol would decrease Ardeth's self-control, and he went along with it. Because he wanted. . .because tomorrow marked a new beginning for Ardeth, and it was time to release some of that grief and hurt. Rick understood now. Garai held his eyes a moment longer, then his eyes slid toward Ardeth. Rick's plans of getting him thoroughly drunk vanished in that moment.
It was too late to do anything about the hangover he knew Ardeth would have. But it wasn't too late for him to do something else. Rick drew his friend's head to rest on his shoulder, whispering, "Then sleep, Ardeth. Nothing will happen to you as long as we're here. Just sleep." Ardeth fought it at first. Of course he would. Ardeth Bey was a warrior, first, last, and always. He fought sleep as fiercely as he fought Imhotep, as fiercely as he fought falling in love with Celia.
But in the end, his body was exhausted, along with his spirit, and slowly, Rick felt the tension ease from his friend's body. When Ardeth was a dead weight against him, the American gently eased Ardeth down, to make him more comfortable. Nicodemus gently covered the sleeping chieftain with a blanket, while Rick and Garai both kept their hands on Ardeth's back and shoulder. Silence fell in the tent. Then Garai asked, "Shall I tell you stories of the little boy he was?" Rick looked at the warrior with an inquiring grin, and the old warrior said, "Pass around more bottles, Hanif. . .I have many stories to tell."
. . .
The rest of the night passed with much merriment. Strangely enough, the laughter did not awaken Ardeth. Poor man, must have been exhausted. That wasn't the surprise, at least, not to Jonathan. What did surprise him was Rick's extraordinary gentleness with their Med-jai friend. Especially after Ardeth fell asleep, Jonathan's brother-in-law kept his hand on Ardeth's shoulder. Not something Jonathan expected from Rick, especially not in regards to Ardeth. Perhaps Ardeth mentioning how much Rick reminded him of his older brother caused the change in Rick's attitude.
Or maybe it was the alcohol. As the night wore on, the bottles circulated, and Jonathan had his fair share, but he built up a tolerance over the years. One by one, each men fell asleep. Jonathan remained awake. He told Celia the truth, and she was still his friend. He hadn't meant to tell her that Alex was his son by blood. It just slipped out. And he saw the conflict in her eyes. There was a part of her which wanted to chastise him for his irresponsibility, but instead, she told him that she would not judge him. That she *would* keep his secret. It was asking a lot, but he appreciated it.
Ardeth was a lucky man. Celia wasn't a beautiful woman, in the way Evy was. She would never be beautiful in the conventional sense. But she was brave and kind, honorable and loyal. What more could any man ask? But yes, he rather thought that Ardeth *did* know how lucky he was. Just as Rick understood how lucky he was to have Evy. And Alex. And the coming baby, whom Evy swore was a little girl.
Jonathan wasn't entirely sure when he fell asleep. . .but he did know he was awakened by a soft groan. The groan was followed by another noise, which was entirely too familiar to Jonathan. Someone was either vomiting or retching. Jonathan opened his eyes, mentally checking off everyone who was in the tent. Rick, Hanif, Garai, Nicodemus. . .where was Ardeth? Outside. It was Ardeth he was hearing.
The other men were still asleep, and Jonathan carefully got to his feet. He picked up the blanket, especially when he realized it was still night. He found Ardeth behind the tent on his knees, doubled over. Jonathan cringed in sympathy. His arm was pressed to his stomach as another spasm wracked his body, and the Englishman walked over to his friend, carefully draping the blanket over the trembling shoulders.
"Easy," Jonathan soothed as Ardeth moaned quietly in distress, "easy. Jjust about done there, old boy?" The raven head bobbed once, and Jonathan continued, "Alright then. We'll sit here another minute or so, while your legs stop shaking a little, then we'll go back into the tent so you can get some rest." Again, Ardeth nodded, and Jonathan dared to put his hand on his friend's back, rubbing his hand back and forth.
"Allah have mercy on me for my stupidity. . .Horus and Isis, too," Ardeth muttered as he rolled away from the mess, his face ashen and sweaty. Jonathan discreetly kicked sand over the remains, both solid and liquid, then put a gentle arm around the Med-jai's waist. By the gods, he was shaking so badly. Ardeth whispered, "Forgive me, my friend, for disturbing your sleep. I hoped not to wake you or the others."
"Think nothing of it, old boy," Jonathan said lightly, carefully guiding his friend to the tent. By some minor miracle, they navigated around the sleeping men, until they reached Ardeth's bedroll. Jonathan gently eased his friend down, feeling the tremors that racked Ardeth's body. Poor man, felt like death warmed over. Jonathan was familiar with the feeling. . .though long years had passed since the first time he got drunk.
The Englishman covered his friend with the blanket. Ardeth was still a little drunk, Jonathan realized, as he was rambling in a strange mix of Arabic, ancient Egyptian, English, and a half dozen other languages. Jonathan caught maybe a third of what he was saying, until Ardeth went abruptly silent. For a long, terrifying moment, Jonathan was afraid that Ardeth would be sick again, until he realized that Ardeth was shaking too badly for him to speak.
Jonathan lifted Ardeth up, blanket and all, easing behind the younger man, then pulled his friend against his chest. He held Ardeth to warm his friend. Ardeth asked sleepily, "Why did you do that, Jonathan?" The Englishman carefully arranged the blanket more firmly around his friend, hoping Ardeth would fall back asleep, or just forget he asked that. No such luck. Ardeth's breathing remained the same, and it forced Jonathan to think about why he took the actions he did.
"Well, for one thing. . .because you're cold. Shivering. The blanket can only warm you up so much," Jonathan said with a sigh. There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and the Englishman continued, "And. . .well, because sometimes even a great and mighty chieftain of a great and mighty people needs to be held. Your wife to be isn't here, and nor is my. . .our. . . sister. But this is what I would do for her, or for Alex. It's only right that I do it for you."
Ardeth's breathing started to slow and and even out, but he was still fighting sleep. Damn stubborn man. But it turned out the alcohol had complications that they never considered. Jonathan learned that when Ardeth's sleepy voice informed him, "Rameses knew that Nassor loved him. He could not love him, not the way he loved Ardath. He was afraid that he would destroy Nassor, just as he destroyed Ardath."
Dear God. Rameses figured out the secret Nassor kept from him for decades. Jonathan said heavily, "Rameses was not responsible for the death of his Lady. But he could never accept that, and because he could not accept that, he shut himself off from love entirely. In all of its forms. He could no longer accept the love of his father or his sister. Nor could he accept the love of his son."
"Aywa. He believed he did not deserve it. I am afraid I do not deserve it, either, Jonathan. I am afraid I will be a bad husband for Celia, a bad husband and a bad father," Ardeth confessed in a childlike voice. Jonathan swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to that. To give himself time to think, the Englishman just hugged his friend. And a moment later, it was unnecessary for him to say anything, because Ardeth added, "I miss my father, Jonathan. I miss my brother. Andreas gave Horus to me, did you know that?"
'My best and most clever friend,' Ardeth said at Izzy's airfield, and now Jonathan learned that Horus was a final gift from a beloved older brother. Before Jonathan could answer, the young chieftain murmured, "Andreas gave Horus to me when I became a warrior, and received our sacred markings. And now Horus is gone. Just like Andreas. Just like my father." The grief in his voice was almost more than Jonathan could bear.
So he latched onto the one thing that could make things right. It sounded so foolish, but it was the only thing Jonathan could think of. He replied, "But you have Celia and Miranda. You have Rick and Evy, you have me, you have Alex." Ardeth's eyes went wide with wonderment. It was as if he never thought about the O'Connells in such a way. But it was true, Ardeth was part of their family. Jonathan continued, "We can't bring your father or your brother back. Or Horus. But you have your mother, your sisters, your niece and nephew, your brother. And you always will have us."
"Shukran, my friend. I am very tired, Jonathan. I will sleep now," Ardeth replied. He gave a little sigh and his eyes drifted shut. Jonathan didn't move at first. He didn't want to wake Ardeth. But as the moments passed, and Ardeth's body grew heavier, Jonathan gently lay his friend down properly. He stopped shivering as badly. That was good. He carefully arranged the blanket around Ardeth once more.
"Then sleep, Ardeth, and have wonderful dreams, my friend. Dream of your wife," Jonathan whispered. He sat down beside Ardeth, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, just as Rick did when Ardeth fell asleep. Jonathan knew that he would never return to his own dreams. So, instead, he would stay awake and keep watch over his friend. The following day, Ardeth would be married, and Jonathan intended to see to it that the wedding took place.
. . .
Ohhh. . .gods. What happened to him? Rick O'Connell peeled back one eyelid, groaning anew when the light struck his eyes. An annoyingly cheerful voice exclaimed, "Oh, good, you're awake. Up you get! We're helping Ardeth get ready for his wedding this evening, remember?" Rick glared at his brother-in-law, who was looking entirely too chipper for someone who got drunker than a skunk the night before. And what the hell did happen the previous night?
Oh. That's right. Rick's bachelor party for Ardeth. Rick smiled faintly, thinking about the rare glimpse he had into his friend the night before. He thought about teasing Ardeth about falling asleep the way he had, against Rick, and Jonathan said in a voice utterly devoid of humor, "Oh, and Rick? If you say a word to Ardeth about last night, if you tease him in any way, I'll tell Evy that you told Celia about Ardeth's inexperience."
That jolted Rick awake in a hurry. He stared at his brother-in-law in shock, wondering if Nassor hadn't decided to come back while Jonathan was asleep. But he found Evy's brother staring back at him with no small amount of determination. Also some apprehension, but the determination was stronger. Jonathan added grimly, "Today is Ardeth's wedding day, and I intend to make sure no one messes it up."
Rick was still too hungover to bother being angry with Jonathan, so he just groaned and dropped his head back onto the pillow. After a moment, he muttered, "If I promise not to tease Ardeth, will you let me die in peace?" Jonathan laughed, pushing the tent flap back. Rick allowed himself a hiss of pain as the sunlight hit his painfully sensitive eyes. That was obviously a 'no.'
"It's almost noon, old boy, and Hanif and Garai took Ardeth to be washed. It was quite amazing, actually, he was in better shape this morning than you were. Especially since it was his first time getting drunk. He woke up on his own about two hours ago, and he was quite the man about it. No whining or whimpering like you are," Jonathan replied. Rick raised his head from the pillow and glared at Jonathan for all he was worth.
But Jonathan didn't look scared. Instead, he continued lightly, "Oh, by the way. Just so you know. Ardeth has asked you and me, along with Hanif and Garai, to stand with him at the wedding. So you have to get up now, Rick." The American looked at Jonathan in confusion, knowing that somewhere in that mess of words was something that he needed to know.
Impatiently, Jonathan sighed, "Rick. Get your lazy arse out of bed. Ardeth needs us. Remember how you were when you and Evy got married?" Rick did indeed. To say that he was a nervous wreck was an understatement. Jonathan continued, "Ardeth is a hundred times worse. You know he actually asked this morning if I thought Celia would back out of the marriage? The very idea!" Jonathan actually sounded scandalized.
Rick looked at his brother-in-law suspiciously, wondering when the hell Jonathan became so protective of Ardeth. He asked slowly, "Are you sure that you're not like Nassor?" Jonathan's blue eyes narrowed, and his entire body went rigid. Apparently, he had *no* problem understanding what Rick meant, and for the first time since meeting the Englishman, Rick O'Connell actually found himself unnerved.
"I will consider that to be the alcohol. I do have Nassor's memories, yes. But I am not him. As much as I care for Ardeth, it is a different sort of affection than what you have in mind. He is my friend, Rick. The man who put your son above his own people, above his own life, remember? When I was a child, and annoyed that I had a little sister, I wished for a brother. Ardeth is the son my father wanted. The kind of son any man with sense would want!" Jonathan fired back.
Rick started to say something, only to realize that he had nothing to say. Jonathan glared at him bitterly, then continued, "Now. Perhaps Ardeth doesn't have your idea of a sense of humor. God knows I thought for a long time that he had no sense of humor at all. And maybe he has this unnerving tendency to show up when all hell is breaking loose. But he has always been there for our family, Rick. He has always come through for us. He has asked us to stand with him, because his father and older brother are dead. I for one don't intend to let him down. Again."
With that, Jonathan stormed out of the tent. Rick dropped back to his pallet with a groan. Things were looking shitty and it was only noon. He had to get cleaned up, then see about whatever Ardeth needed him to do. But before he went anywhere, he had to figure out what Jonathan meant about them letting Ardeth down. . .again. Sure, they raised Imhotep after Ardeth told them to leave Hamunaptra, and they took the Bracelet of Anubis, but better them than Meela and company, right?
After a few moments, he finally pushed himself into a kneeling position, then got to his feet. He hated hangovers. And Ardeth's wasn't that bad? Rick would hurt him. It wasn't bad enough that Ardeth was almost always right, it wasn't bad enough that the man was too damn self- sacrificing for his own good (okay, that was redundant, but Rick didn't care about thinking coherently right now). Oh no. No, he had to get a minor hangover the first time he was drunk!
He groaned again as he stumbled from the tent, belatedly remembering that he didn't know where the baths were. Then he saw Garai come out of a tent, and Rick stumbled in that general direction, cussing out whoever or whatever just tripped him up. Even if it was the damn sand. Still grumbling, Rick made his way over to the tent, and Garai said gravely, "I am glad to see you no worse for wear, O'Connell."
"That's a matter of opinion," the American grumbled as Garai led him insidet. He couldn't make heads or tales out of what his brother-in-law said. Ardeth, who never got drunk before, had a lesser hangover than he did, and Rick's head felt like it would come off his shoulders. Then he got hit in the face with a blast of steam, and Rick swore ripely. This day would end badly, he knew it!
A sleepy voice chastised him in Arabic, and Rick's attention was drawn in the direction of the voice. He found Ardeth sitting in a tub of water, his head resting against the rim. His hair was soaking wet, and as Rick came closer, he discovered that Ardeth's eyes were closed. An evil thought crossed his mind, and Rick approached. But just as he was getting ready to dunk Ardeth under the water, his friend's eyes opened and he said in English, "I would not advise that."
Rick pouted, replying, "You spoil all my fun! Besides, I thought you were half-asleep. Were you trying to trick me?" Ardeth just gave him a sleepy, albeit mischievous, smile, and the American snorted, "Yeah. I should have known. What do you need me to do?" Ardeth straightened in the tub, and Rick winced at the accompanying pops and cracks as his friend's spine realigned itself.
"Hanif is gathering my clothes, and Garai is standing guard. Jonathan is taking care of the women. . .not like that, O'Connell, so please stop glowering at me. I need you to take care of my weapons," Ardeth replied. Rick raised his eyebrows at that, and Ardeth explained patiently (reminding Rick of Evy explaining something to Alex), "My dagger and my sword are part of my ceremonial robes, O'Connell."
Oh. That made sense. In a roundabout Med-jai sort of way. Rick asked, "Sooo, what do you need me to do? Clean them? Sharpen them?" Ardeth closed his eyes and allowed his head to slump back against the rim of the tub once more with a crack that made Rick's own head hurt. And yet, the Med-jai didn't make a single noise of pain. There were times when Rick really hated that guy. No question.
"I need you to bring them to me, O'Connell. I will see to their cleaning and sharpening, once I am finished with my own. . .grooming," Ardeth replied. It didn't miss Rick's notice that his friend stumbled over that last word.
It didn't escape Garai's notice, either, for the older man said, "Be easy, Ardeth, there is no reason for concern." Rick raised an eyebrow, and Garai added, gently teasing the younger warrior, "Although, some of the young maidens may swoon when they receive a reminder of what their chieftain looks like under the sand and dust that accumulates out here." Ardeth glared at his old friend, and Rick just laughed.
"It is true, though," Hanif said, returning with an armful of clothes, "those of us who have sisters, often hear how our chieftain takes so little interest in his own appearance, and yet, he is one of the most handsome men in all twelve tribes. So I've been told. And some of our warriors do take pride in their appearance. . .maybe more pride in their appearance than in their skills or the condition of their weapons."
By this time, Ardeth was blushing so furiously, Rick wouldn't have been surprised if they could see the resulting glow in Europe. Funny. His big, tough, deadly friend was embarrassed because the girls in his tribe thought him handsome. Rick wondered what Evy would make of that. Doubtless, she would smack him if he even thought about teasing Ardeth. Well, he didn't see Evy anywhere around. . .so where would the harm be?