Miriam and Menelaus Read online

  Miriam and Menelaus

  By

  Jackie Rose

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Miriam and Menelaus

  Copyright ã 2006 Jackie Rose

  Coverart by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books 2006

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  www.extasybooks.com

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to my wonderful editors at Extasy Books, who are always willing to let me try something different… even if it meant bringing together the heroine of the Exodus and the leader of the Trojan War.

  Chapter One

  Even as she danced, her bosom was fully covered. To me, that was the most arousing sight of all.

  Her flowing sleeves hid her arms, calling even more attention to the hands that emerged from beneath them, clutching a tambourine.

  I saw her long, slim legs and her small, firm bosom only as they moved beneath her simple garment, making the white linen wave and ripple above her. As her head nodded in time to the music, a few strands of her hair flew out from under her scarf, providing a vivid contrast to the coarsely woven fabric.

  Her curls were as red as my own, a bronze that matched her eyes and her sprinkling of freckles. Her jaw was firm beneath her generous lips, which curved like a bow. Her entire face was alive with excitement as she danced.

  She did not perform for me. Unlike my palace dancing girls, who competed to wriggle their half-bare breasts and thighs at me, she barely glanced my way. I received only a brief nod and smile of acknowledgement as she glimpsed me. Yet I must have made an imposing sight in my armor. The crimson plumes rose high above my helmet, which glittered in the flames that lit the circle where she was dancing in the desert night.

  My armor marked me as an Argive warrior, but I still felt safe among the strangers because it did not proclaim me to be a king. Therefore, I had not thought that the Hebrews would attack me when I heard the music and came to join them. I acted mostly out of tedium, as we waited in our shelters for our followers’ ships to arrive.

  Soon, of course, we would capture our own slave girls, who would pleasure us in any way we chose. But for now, the prospect of some entertainment was enough to lure me to run some risks. And the danger would be very real, I felt certain, if ever these wanderers learned who I was.

  Once I was dead, our war would be over even before it began. Helen, my wife, then would be free to marry anyone she chose. The Trojans would have found this a great incentive for offering a high bounty on my helmeted head, and her own Trojan prince would have been happy to pay his share.

  If the Hebrew leader had incited his fellow slaves to flee their rightful masters as he searched for his own kingdom, who knew what he would do in return for the gold to build his palace there? So I had taken the precaution of coming here in a warrior’s armor, with no heralds to announce me.

  For this dancing slave girl, though, I decided I might offer a high enough price to match any Trojan bribes.

  She was singing as she danced. It was her song that lured me to press my way through the camels, oxen, donkeys and sheep. I could hear her voice soaring above her tambourine, high and sweet against its jangling rhythm. I knew enough of the Egyptian language to make out a few of the words…enough to realize, with some surprise, that this was no song of love.

  “Rejoice, rejoice exceedingly!

  “The horse and his rider are thrown in the sea.”

  Cheers from the ragged mob greeted her dance and song.

  I had heard of some sort of sea battle the previous year, which the slaves had incredibly won, by luring their Egyptian pursuers to follow them into the water. Once there, the heavy armor had dragged the soldiers to their death.

  Truly, these runaways must have been desperate, I thought, to wage such a war. So I could hardly blame her for thanking her gods for their deliverance, or her audience for applauding her. Or her god, I should have said, since I had heard that all those rebel slaves were too simple-minded to worship more than one.

  Well, I thought, my lovely dancing slave girl, you have nothing to fear. You will find me a kinder master than the Egyptians ever were. And I will pay your current owner so richly that he’ll have even less cause than you will to complain. My wealth had given me little joy so far, but I felt sure that was about to change.

  When her rather strange song was finished, I walked up to her. As she met my glance with an amused little smile, I found that I, who had talked so easily with kings and queens, could hardly find a word to say. I caught her scent on the night air, a light floral perfume, mingled with the sweat of her exertion, which now clung to her gown. To my starved senses, it was an intoxicating brew.

  “I enjoyed your dancing and singing, my girl,” I told her, in the language of the great empire where she had been born, and which was known to all educated men.

  “Thank you, Argive,” she said, bowing her head so that I saw the firelight glinting on her bronze curls. Her voice was as musical in speech as it had been in her singing.

  “You know what country I come from?”

  “I was raised in the palace of Pharaoh, where we saw many visitors and learned to recognize their armor.”

  “And that must be where you learned to entertain. Well, my girl, would you like to perform for me?”

  “I have just finished my dancing,” she responded gently, but, I thought, with a teasing tone.

  “You may have just completed your last performance for the crowd,” I announced. “I intend to buy you for my own pleasure…dancing and otherwise.”

  I waited for her to cry out with gratitude and fling herself to my knees. Instead, I suddenly realized, with a shock, that she was fighting her laughter. Her generous bow-shaped lips were pressed together to suppress it, while her bronze brows were squeezed close over the eyes that almost matched their shade.

  “I am honored,” she told me. “I had thought that you Argives would capture your women, in the same little towns where you took your meat and wine and grain.”

  “I have seen the woman I want right here, and I can afford to pay for her. What’s more,” I assured her, “I can also afford to keep you for my pleasure alone, without giving you any hard work to do. You will live in greater luxury than you could have ever known, even in Pharaoh’s house. So you have nothing to fear.”

  “I am not afraid,” she assured me, gazing straight up me again…even though she had to bend her head back to do it.

  “Then tell me who your master is, and I will double any price he asks. I assure you, he will be as pleased as we are with the trade.”

  “Moses commands me.”

  I went off in the direction she had pointed…towards a man who seemed to be a few years younger than I was, but with a red beard that was longer and fuller than mine. It fell over his red robe, which was striped in black and white. No doubt I should have recognized the family resemblance to my dancing girl, but I was too eager to see her perfor
ming only for me.

  What I did see, was a look that convinced me that I was in no danger from him. He would not be the Trojans’ assassin, for any fee. That would make it easier for me to make my offer, sure that my money would be going to a decent man.

  “Prince Moses,” I said, using his royal Egyptian title, out of courtesy.

  “No longer a prince,” he told me, in a tone of some embarrassment. “You must not have heard the latest news.”

  “I am well aware of it, even though I have been making news of my own,” I answered ruefully. “My story might have reached you, too. I am Menelaus.”

  “The King of Sparta,” he said, sounding duly impressed.

  “I am here to bring my queen, Helen, back from Troy,” I said boldly, trying to hide my humiliation.

  “And do you want us to help you?”

  He was obviously casting about for a way to refuse. Suddenly, I realized that this great and famous leader actually found it hard to choose his words. I could not help smiling at that, which made me feel almost grateful to him…it had been so long since anything had amused me.

  “We hardly need your men to fight with us,” I assured him. We will have a thousand ships, when all of them have joined us, and fifty men in each.

  “I also have the money to buy a thousand more,” I added, thus bringing me to the subject, as I thought in a tactful way. “But I have seen something I would rather spend it on…your lovely dancing girl. Name your price and I will double it.”

  I drew back, despite myself…as though he, not I, had been the man in armor. He was every inch the mighty prince now, as he pulled himself up to his full commanding height and glowered at me from under his gathered brows. In that moment, I saw how even the almighty Pharaoh might have quailed before him.

  “She is not for sale at any price,” he said, with no hesitancy now.

  “Your own favorite,” I answered, with a sigh.

  “My sister. And if she were not, we do not sell our people into slavery. We have just fled bondage in Egypt, as you heard.”

  Mentally, I cursed myself for not having seen how closely they resembled each other. To hide my embarrassment, I went on the attack.

  “Then why was she dancing in public?” I muttered, without realizing how insulting my question was. Feeling my face turning almost as red as my beard, I only knew that I had been shamed once more, and over a woman again.

  “To praise God,” he answered, rather impatiently, as though the answer should have been obvious to anyone.

  “She said you commanded her.”

  This brought a faint smile to his full Egyptian lips, barely hidden beneath his beard.

  “No man orders Miriam to dance.”

  Or to do anything else, I thought. But who was I to lecture on female modesty and obedience? Had I tried to do so, he would have justly laughed in my face. Helen of Troy was hardly the image of any womanly virtues.

  “Miriam!” His raised voice interrupted my thoughts. I evidently found his tone more startling than she did. Separating herself from the crowd, she sauntered over towards us with the same fluid grace she had shown in dancing, but with no sign of haste.

  “Did you tease this young man by pretending to be my slave girl?” he demanded, staring down reproachfully at her from over his crossed arms. They were burned by the sun, I noted, no doubt from pointing out the directions where he was sending his followers. The common Hebrews might have been impressed by his stern gestures, but, once again, his sister was not.

  “Well, only a little,” she admitted.

  “Have you forgotten the courtesy we owe to a guest?”

  “I did not mean to be impolite,” she assured him. With some resentment in her musical tone, she added, “Was it kind of him to offer to buy me as a slave?”

  “I meant it as a favor,” I retorted, hearing the annoyance growing in my own tone. “I would have sworn to you, as a good master should, that you would be better off as my captive than you ever had been free.”

  “I have been a captive,” she told me, her eyes flashing with sudden, startling fire. “I served in Pharaoh’s palace, where I was better off than most of his subjects, but I would not be any man’s servant again. No matter how well you treated me, I would know that you would be as quick as he was to restrain me, if I wanted to go free.”

  “I would probably not succeed,” I told her ruefully. “I seem to have little good fortune that way.”

  “So, one of your slaves escaped from you?” She sounded pleased at the prospect.

  “Not a slave,” I reluctantly replied.

  That’s when she looked at me carefully, and I saw the remorse coming over her face.

  “You are King Menelaus?” She bowed from the waist, so that her bronze curls brushed against her leather sandals, close to the sandy ground. “Forgive me, your majesty. I did not know.”

  * * * *

  From the sorrow in his mild blue eyes, I should have guessed his name. In my defense, I can only say that it was hard to imagine any woman leaving him.

  King Menelaus looked like a great, shambling bear, with his red-brown hair and beard curling down to his powerful shoulders. His strength, together with his sorrow, made me want to pull him into my arms.

  “But how could I have known?” I demanded, trying to hide my most unmaidenly feelings. “You wear a common soldier’s helmet instead of your royal crown.” His fair skin was sunburned beneath the metal, making him seem even more like an ordinary bowman, but he was still fearsome enough to make me wonder how I had dared to tease him.

  I admit that I could not keep from also glancing down at his short tunic, to see his long, muscular legs. Above the metal guards, they too were red from sunburn and marked by wiry bronze hairs, which the same sun had turned to gold. He smelled of the metal, sweat and leather in an intoxicating brew.

  “My crown would not protect me against the enemy swords and spears,” he told me, with a faint smile that left me wondering how this Helen could have left him. “It would rather make me a target for them. Of course, I will be one anyway…since, as it is my death, would end the fighting…but there is no sense making it easier to find me.”

  “God forbid!” I whispered, my eyes widening with fear at the thought. This great bear was a hunted beast indeed.

  Only that knowledge could explain what I said next, casting off all womanly modesty.

  “Your Majesty,” I began…and if both men had not been gazing expectantly at me, I could not have forced myself to go on.

  “Your Majesty,” I continued in the firmest tone I could manage. “There must be so many other women, in Argos and beyond…good and beautiful women, who dream of a husband like you.”

  Having gone so far, I shocked even myself by continuing, in an even less maidenly way, “One of them would surely be worthy of you, as that foolish queen is not. Can’t you simply cast her off?”

  “Miriam!” My brother all but howled in shame. “This is none of your concern. And if it were, you should know that King Menelaus cannot set an example of weakness. He has his duty to his people…as you do.”

  Those last words were said in an almost warning tone, which made me feel dismally sure that he had sensed my feelings towards the Argive king. His next sentence confirmed it.

  “You should think about Caleb, and being a good and faithful wife to him,” my brother told me.

  “If I marry Caleb, I will certainly be faithful,” I retorted, really resentful now without knowing why. “You have promised you will not force me.”

  “Perhaps I should have,” he muttered. “But that would be too much like slavery.”

  “In any event, I am sure we have many men who want to marry the sister of Moses. You will have no trouble finding me a bridegroom.”

  “Caleb is making his own way, without needing to marry you,” her brother retorted sharply. “Right now, he is off looking for water to buy for us, so we can go on searching for our own land.”

  “We have water in plenty,”
our Argive guest put in. “We have dug many wells for our camp and intend to find many more.” I knew that, having found the water sources, he would have taken them by force if needed, but he saw no advantage in saying so.

  Instead, he assured us that, “We would be glad to share it with you. I will send my men with cartfuls…you tell them when it is enough.”

  “And we will pay, of course,” my brother assured him.

  Rather to my surprise, Menelaus accepted his offer. “Your payment will be welcome,” he answered quickly. “If I were a private man, I would insist on your taking it as a gift, in the hopes of winning your friendship…and in thanks for your sister’s lovely dance and song. But, as you said, I have a duty to my people.”

  “Then you must join us in our bread, cheese and wine,” I said. Seeing both men staring at me in surprise, I explained, “It is a long way back to the Argive camp. And we have a duty to be courteous to guests.”

  * * * *

  I was looking forward to seeing her serve me with those long, slim fingers, but I was doomed to disappointment once again. I barely had time to hear her brother offer his thanksgiving prayer to his patron god, when she was called away. She was reaching down into the bread basket to serve us when another woman raised the tent flap and came running through.

  “Rachel is in labor,” she said. Without waiting for another word, Miriam stood and raced out after her.

  “Miriam is our midwife,” Moses told me in a halting tone, as though embarrassed by the very word. Then, with that faint smile of his, he added, “That work will not wait for her. So I suppose we must fend for ourselves.”

  Just in time, I stopped myself from asking why such a great leader did not have servants to help him. Obviously, the answer was that he had set them all free. So I waited while he rummaged through the baskets for the food and drink. When he had put them before us, I mentioned how many talents his sister had shown.