In Thrall To The Enemy Commander. Greta Gilbert

a narrow-eyed glare then, as if she blamed him for the mistake. Then she hurled the knife into the sand in an adorable huff. He chuckled once more as she dashed to the ocean where she began a Herculean effort to scrub out the stain.

      For the first time, he observed her naked legs. She had unknowingly lifted her skirt to above her knees, giving him a tantalising view of them and a dark suggestion of what lay just beyond. His desire stirred. He felt like Odysseus in the presence of Calypso. He could not take his eyes off her dripping legs. He wondered how they might feel wrapped about his middle.

      He ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to find some occupation, lest his dignitas be lost on this very beach. The sun flashed off the knife where she had thrown it down and an idea came to him.

      He walked up the beach to the place beneath a palm where he had laid his tunic. He settled himself in the palm’s shade, watching as Wen returned to the Queen’s tent. He found a small bone and had soon honed it well enough to serve as a needle with which to weave palm fibres. He became so absorbed in his task that he did not notice her until he spied her bare feet stepping beneath the shade in which he sat.

      * * *

      ‘The Queen requests your presence once again,’ she announced with a sigh.

      ‘Well, that is a relief,’ he mocked. ‘I feared that you had come to sever my head!’

      ‘The Queen wishes to ask you a question.’

      ‘Let me guess, the Queen will ask me a question, then you will disembowel me and read the answer in the shape of my innards.’ It was all he could do to keep from laughing at his own cleverness.

      She glanced at his naked chest with irritation. ‘You must be fully clothed to appear before the Queen of Egypt,’ she said, then turned and began walking away.

      ‘Come now,’ he called after her, fumbling into his tunic. He bounded to her side. ‘I was only teasing you, you know.’

      ‘Hmm. Like when you feigned sleep the other night? Were you only teasing then?’

      ‘I feigned nothing.’

      ‘Your breaths were uneven. You would not stop flexing your feet.’

      ‘You watched me, then? As I slept?’

      ‘Your stirring drew my attention.’

      ‘You are right that I could not sleep, for you and the Queen’s handmaids were gossiping like hens.’

      ‘How would you know we spoke gossip? You do not speak Greek. You could not have understood our words.’ There was a long pause and she took the opportunity to stride past him.

      He caught up to her effortlessly and resolved to change the subject. ‘It is a lovely day, is it not?’ he asked. It was, in truth, a lovely day, though she said nothing in response. ‘The sun should not be so warm for Octobris. Do you not agree?’

      ‘I do not know what Octobris is,’ she clipped. ‘For me it is the first month of peret, the beginning of the season of planting and growth. And, no, I do not find it unseasonably warm.’

      They walked together in silence, and she seemed satisfied that she had sufficiently frustrated him. Alas, she was mistaken.

      ‘Earlier I saw an eagle flying near the shore,’ he offered. ‘Did you not see it? It is yet another good omen.’

      She glanced up at him, studying his features. ‘Why do you groom your brows?’ she asked.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Among the Roman Gabiniani whom I served, only officers trim their eyebrows. Infantry soldiers do not.’

      ‘Well, I am an exception then,’ he lied. He searched for words to fill the silence. ‘We shall see the Lighthouse tonight as we approach Alexandria. Did you know that there are giant copper mirrors at its apex? They send the fire’s light much farther than it would otherwise go alone.’

      Wen gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

      ‘Well, I am glad the Queen wishes to consult with me about our journey,’ he offered.

      ‘She does not wish to consult with you. She wishes to ask you a question.’

      ‘Well, I am grateful to you for retrieving me.’

      ‘I was commanded to retrieve you.’

      ‘I am grateful none the less.’

      She stopped suddenly and dug her feet into the sand. ‘Stop.’

      ‘Stop what?’

      ‘Stop trying to endear yourself to me so that I will not betray your ruse.’

      ‘That is not what I’m doing.’

      ‘So you admit that there is a ruse?’

      ‘I admit no such thing.’

      ‘Then why are you trying to befriend me? You are a Roman. Therefore, you will never be my friend.’

      ‘I do not wish to be your friend.’

      ‘And why is that, exactly?’

      ‘Because you are beneath me.’

      * * *

      The response was wholly expected, but it fell upon her like a blow. She felt weak and diminished. She wished that the sands in which she stood would simply swallow her up.

      Still, she would not give him the satisfaction of witnessing her shame. ‘I think that is the first true thing that has escaped your lips, Roman,’ she said. She stepped from his path.