Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne.
Note: This chapter takes up where the last ended.
Folken had always said that diplomacy was lost on those who were too hotheaded. He frequently told this to his brother who could often be described as too temperamental for his own good.
Van's whole body had tensed and he rounded on her snapping, "May I remind you, Servant, of whom you speak to! And as for your queen's graciousness I'd say she should take care to not forget that without Fanelia there'd be no Egypt for her to rule! She is queen only because my brother has allowed her to be!" Isadora's mouth had fallen open at his outburst, but she was quick to defend her mistress.
"Sitiah is queen because it is her right! Not because you buffoons ran around with your swords!" She argued without pause. Silence pressed upon the hall again. The food practically fell from the men's open mouths as they watched with rapt attention. Flushed with annoyance, and beyond all courtesy, Van squeezed his fists shut tightly.
"Don't be stupid! Just because that woman holds Strategos' interest in bed doesn't mean that she has complete rule over this desert waste!" He lashed out. But at the look of horror on Isadora's face he felt his anger fail. Could this be the same soldier who had wanted her to stay out of danger? She looked as though she were about to cry and be sick at the same time. Her hand flew to her mouth as she took a few steps back from him shaking her head in disbelief. Suddenly Van looked forlorn, as his eyes shifted to right and left as though searching for some appropriate cover up. The handmaiden pulled her hand from her mouth, swallowing with a great effort.
It is true! They do despise us! They think that we're all eastern witches! And that- my queen-my queen is some sort of- seductress. He- he despises her! He- despises…us! She pursed her lips forcing herself to face him and not run from the room as her heart longed to do. Quickly she covered her hurt with the formality expected of a servant.
"Forgive me, Prince Van, I've- forgotten myself. I'll take my leave if there is nothing else." She blurted. Van could only stare at her uncertainly for several moments. She stared past him, gripping all her peaceful reserves in desperation. But blood, could not keep her cold.
Dripping like thick red wine from Van's wounded hand, the blood pooled into a tiny puddle on the tile. Isadora had closed the space between them in an instant, her healer's instinct taking over all sense. She picked up his hand and cradled it in one of hers as she examined the blood soaked bind.
She ignored the look of complete confusion as she glanced up, "Who tended this?"
"There was no available physician-so-I-," He answered quietly.
She smirked studying his hand again, "It's been neglected… Come." She led him to the table without his protest. And lowered herself to her knees, forcing him down in front of her. He sat down, one knee to his chest, the other folded on the pillows in front of him. Carefully unwrapping the makeshift bandage -obviously torn from dirty battle attire- she searched the table for anything helpful. Looking to the wound again, she gasped as she realized how deep into the flesh it was. It had missed tendons, thank the goddess, but almost went through to the other side.
Her eyes could not mask her pity as she gazed up at him, "What did this?"
"An enemy dagger." He glowered at the memory, staring above her head, "We were checking over the streets to count for all dead and wounded. I turned over a fellow I thought dead and he dug the damn blade into my hand-"
"We killed the Egyptian bastard for it too!" One of Van's men informed her.
"No one touches our general and gets away with it." Another muttered. The soldiers' attention was snatched away again as they went into their accounts of the battle, and how fiercely they hated the enemy. Isadora suppressed an urge to shudder as their gruff voices went into detail about the kills. She was disturbed by their ardor for combat, and even more chilled by the animosity they harbored for those who were not born of Fanelia. She did her best to ignore them however as she picked up a pitcher of water, drawing it closer to her.
"Please, relax your hand, it's tense." She ordered him looking away to spot the steward standing at the door. She found herself relieved that she recognized the man from the palace staff and spoke to him in an archaic form of Greek, "Have one of the ladies fetch my bag of herbs and some clean linen strips." The dialect she had used was a more simple form of Alexandria's primary language, one that she was certain no one else in the room knew. She felt a little ashamed for her sudden need to guard her words from the ears of the foreigners. But she quickly pushed the thought aside and picked up a flagon of wine. Filling the gold chalice near Van's almost empty plate she said, "I'll need to inspect the wound and clean it before I stitch it. It's very deep Prince Van." She handed him the cup. He took it watching her carefully as though she would suddenly make an unexpected move.
He replied, "It's nothing. I've had worse."
"Yes, I imagine you have." She said emotionlessly looking towards the door where the steward had disappeared.
She washed the wound carefully; cleaning it to be sure no infection would set in. All the while Van watched her over the rim of gold, sipping the stronger wine she had insisted he drink. Her eyes did not meet his as she bound the cut with herbs to help it heal, wrapping a white strip of cloth about it.
Gathering all her supplies into her leather bag she said, "I will check on it tomorrow, if your highness wishes it." Clutching her bag in one hand at her side she looked up at him. He nodded absently, staring at the gold of the chalice, catching the sun. Isadora felt a pinch of resentment, watching as he rotated the cup in his hand. She got to her feet noiselessly, and turned away from him, "Excuse me, your highness." She was half way to the door when Van's voice caused her heart to beat just a little faster, as she halted.
"Hitomi." Her name echoed in the hall. She did not turn, but stood wishing with all her heart that he had not called her by that name. That name, which meant 'iris', was a spell, one that could throw all her wits into the air. "Go to the training ground after noon tomorrow. I'll be there with a few of my men who could use your expertise." He knew that the words were more demanding than he had wanted them to sound. Van needed her to go there however for more reasons than he had shared. He waited hopefully for her reply. In his eyes was hidden the desperation he felt in wanting her to obey him.
She pursed her lips in irritation then said with mocking grace, "As you will it, your highness." As she left, incensed warmth flooded her. He's giving me orders now? Whatever happened to him knowing me so well? He said he knew me upon the first time we met! I was stupid to believe he knew anything of me- or my dreams!
"You're all a bunch of sissies! How could soldiers as seasoned as you end up with so many cuts?" Merle berated the room full of men as she pulled a bandage tight. She cut the extra linen with a dagger, and then tucked the loose end into the wrap.
"Hey," Pile's nose wrinkled as he examined the wound on his shoulder, "You sure this is gonna stay?"
"Well if you'd quit reopening the wound you wouldn't have to worry!" Merle snapped, her lip curling slightly to reveal a vicious looking tooth. The men about the room laughed at this, teasing Pile unmercilessly for being scolded by the young woman. Their ribald jokes and booming voices seemed odd in the grandeur of Apollo's temple.
The colorful floor tiles forming a mosaic of Apollo and his acolytes sailing the heavens in a chariot were speckled with blood, however. The sailors of the Crusade and a few others of the Fanelian Guard lounged upon the marble steps up to the altar on dirty pallets and blankets. Some sat in the corners on pillows normally used for the practitioners who dutifully kneeled, now their silken cloths dirtied and stinking of sweat and other more putrid smells. All the expensive trinkets, and jeweled decorations had been taken from the temple before the men had stationed there to be treated.
The barracks at the palace, where they had stayed were full of the injured. Any temple standing was being used as a medical station, and temporary housing for those that had lost their homes. The crew of the Crusade had opted to stay near the palace and was given the temple as their outpost.
Merle shot back at the smug remarks and comments the men called at her as she walked past, headed for the inner courtyard. She stepped out into the breeze through two columns. Blinded for a moment she stopped on the top step leading down around the pool of lotuses. The scent of the wind was a relief, no longer so tainted by the smell of the depressing aftermath of battle. She could feel that the energy of the port city had replenished itself. Indeed she realized that the strength had never been lost. The pride of the Alexandrian people was a thick blanket coating the city with impenetrable solidity. Nothing could change the fact that it was the greatest city in the world, a perfect diamond in the rough. Merle let out a sigh as she stepped down and took a seat on the polished floor. The secluded courtyard was located in the very center of the main temple building. It was cool despite the natural warmth Merle had come to expect in this country embraced by the sun god. She stared down at the pond a stair and a few steps below. There was little view of the water beneath the white flowers and their leaves laying docilely on the surface. Occasionally the girl caught a flash of silvery scales as the carp glided through the water brought from Egypt's mother river. Glad to be away from all the masculine company she was so accustomed to, she allowed herself a few girlish thoughts.
They're so white, just like everything else. I've never seen these anywhere else. But I smell them everywhere. The people here sure love the things! She smiled, getting to her feet in one sleek move.
"I want to take one home," She said to no one, walking down to the edge of the pool. On her hands and knees she scanned the flowerbed for a particularly attractive specimen. She was in luck for there was a younger bloom two feet in front of her.
Folding the fingers of one hand over the edge she leaned forward stretching for the blossom. It was just out of reach and she had to pull back as she started to teeter too close to the flowers in front of her. She sat back against her calves sliding her tongue along her upper teeth considering a less dangerous way of obtaining the single lotus. Her pupils grew small then large in less than a second, and she jumped to her toes ready to pounce on the intruder. She had expected a priest, but instead the very opposite of a holy man stood across the pond. He smiled at her, the sun disc caressing him with adoring fingers to enhance his dashing good looks. She frowned into the blue eyes, hating that she had not heard his footfalls.
Bastard never makes a sound. He could feel her distaste, his blue eyes flickering with mirth. However he knew she did not dislike him so much.
"You've finished abusing the men with your medicine, I see. Or did they grow tired of the royal tongue lashing you administered along with your herbs, and finally throw you out?" Allen teased her lightly. The scowl in response was enough to make him grin, but he didn't dare. One wrong comment that pushed her patience to nonexistent would send her storming out.
"Why ask, commander, you know I won't give you the privilege of replying to that," She folded her arms over her stomach with an unpleasant smile, "You're such a fool for a knight." Merle tossed a devilish grin his way, pleased with herself. Pivoting with the elegance of a dancer she hopped back up the steps, sitting again at the top. She made a show of tossing her braid over her shoulder stretching her arms gracefully over her head. She yawned, pretending to not even notice him still standing the distance of the lotus pool opposite her.
"Well," Allen said conversationally, resting his hand casually on the hilt of his sword, "I suppose there's no need to be polite to a girl who's far from a lady." He was looking through the columns to the walkway leading back into the sanctuary, watching her out of the corner of his secretive eyes. He could not keep his eyes from darting to her face as she tossed her head back and laughed. The courtyard sang with her laughter, not disturbing the serenity, but somehow emphasizing the beauty of its pure white floors and pillared walks. Quickly he trained his eyes on the pond frowning at it as though disturbed by the sudden sound. Only a woman laughs like that. He smiled at that with a humored huff.
"Of course not! And I'm so-o-o-o-o glad! I couldn't be Prince Van's aid if I were a lady. I plan to never leave his service, so therefore I have no intention of ever being a lady." She returned cheerfully, loosely hugging her knees to her chest. Merle admired her pond treasure thoughtfully, when she was struck by a shocking notion.
I suppose the Knight of Caeli doesn't care much for women who don't have manners though… But I don't want to be a lady… Which means he wouldn't… She urgently shook the thought away, her eyes wide with a jolting panic. She knew it had shown on her face and she willed the blush spreading in her cheeks to halt. The captain wondered about the look he'd seen upon her face, but he knew there was no figuring the girl.
"Really?" He was slowly strolling around the perimeter of the pond toward her, "And you think if you became a lady Van would not want you as his companion?" He stopped fixing her with a thoughtful gaze. She was standing once more with her swift cat's grace.
Her eyes snapping with heat she glared at him, "That is not it! Being so meek and respectful is sickening! I want nothing to do with what only gives women a reputation of being dogs- to be man's best friend and trained to be his house maid!" Each word was pronounced precisely and with a deliberate bite. Even though she was being so indignant it was still charming the way her lips pouted as her tail twitched slightly with agitation. A smile spread on Allen's face as he looked at her, but faded as her words came back to him.
"Is that what you think? That a lady is looked at as only a pet?" He questioned his eyebrows raised in mild disbelief of her words. She said nothing, taken back by the denial in his eyes. He shook his head as though reprimanding her quietly, dropping his eyes to the ground, "There is no excuse for a man that thinks like that." He looked up at her again, his jaw set in seriousness. His blue eyes seemed to be mixed with gray suddenly, and looked darker. He spoke with sincerity, his eyes holding no trace of deceit, "Whether a woman is a lady or not she is never just something to be mastered. No. I would never treat any woman as though she were a-a- dog. It's an uncultured idea for men who are cowardly and have no sense... I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I do not think that way." Merle let out a breath as though she'd been holding it. The peace was unbroken, though, for her eyes would not leave his face. All was lost in those seconds after he said those words. Nothing but this bright second when all was still, and hushed took hold of everything. The two were outlined in light as though they were a part of it. And they stared at one another, allowing everything to fade out around them. It was a silence in which understanding passed between them without interruption. It was a beginning. However it would be a long road to all that lies in between a beginning and an end. But it was a start.
*Just to be consistent with the factual information, I should mention that the Alexandrian War was not won as quickly as I wrote it. In actuality it took a little over six months. And most of those months, Caesar was trapped in the palace. Pothinus had called on Alexandria's reserves, not long after the first meeting with Caesar. He and a general name Achilles marched the army into Alexandria and immediately lay siege to the palace. Caesar had to fight his way out of the palace before the war really turned in his favor. Now I've read different accounts of the battle so bear w/ me. Some believe that Caesar unsuccessfully tried to take the Pharos, while others are certain that he did. In my opinion he must have, because Alexandria's harbor was very important to both sides, and without securing it the battle would've gone on for a lot longer. Not to mention the fact that Caesar ordered the Alexandrian fleet burned, and to do this one would have to know the lay of the harbor and the battle statistics. And what better place to survey the battle then from the highest point- the lighthouse on the Pharos (which by the way if I haven't already mentioned it, was a wonder of the world). The Alexandrian battle is one of Caesar's most famous because of the odds against him.
*Questions, and/or comments? Anybody completely lost? Email me, and I'll get ya up to speed.
Email: Arsinoe9@aol.com