| The Sisterhood Of One By V.N. Levitsky |
| Chapter Five “You’re doing it again,” Bethany said loudly, in a peeved tone. Moving her body to and fro, she briskly brushed Platiado with an excess of energy. She had removed her cloak to give herself more range of motion and had undone her bun. Her braid, looking like nearly five feet of stark white rope, undulated like a snake along her back with each brush stroke. Ardeth was unnerved, certain that she could not have heard his approach to the stables. He had been watching her for several minutes and was sure that he had been doing so without her knowledge. He walked out from around the tall wooden beam that was a corner support to the stable. “I am doing what again?” She spun at him, poking the curry brush in his direction. “Staring at me! You and most of your warriors! As I walk through camp, I keep catching you all staring at me with a mix of fear and I don’t know what! Some are just curious about me being here, I can sense that. And I’ve been stared at most of my life, so I’m used to it. But some of the warriors almost look offended or even sickened by my presence here. Am I that repulsive or bizarre that you must all morbidly gawk at me?” Platiado neighed loudly in protest, as if trying to tell Bethany to calm down and get back to taking care of him. She swatted his neckly gently and murmured, “I know, I know, amigo, watch my temper.” Hearing a tone of near-shame in her voice, Ardeth had the common sense to feel a bit uncomfortable. He took a few steps towards Bethany, his hand running along the length of the horizontal railing that shaped the individual pen, his long fingers tracing the grain in the wood as he spoke. “Neither I nor my men mean to stare. And I believe it is safe for me to speak for all of us when I say we are not repulsed… merely curious and somewhat wary. The Medjai have seen many strange things in our time, many things that could only be explained as being supernatural. We have been exposed to all things mystical and we can all sense something… otherworldly about you. Obviously you have strange abilities. And I doubt any of us has ever seen someone as young as you with the hair of an elder.” Ardeth noted that Bethany nodded, but simply continued brushing her silvery steed. Platiado whinnied softly in response to the soft words that Bethany whispered to him as if they were having a separate conversation from the one she was having with Ardeth. She continued her long strokes with the brush she had found hanging from one of the beams with various tacks and bridles. He couldn’t be completely positive, but it seemed to Ardeth that some of the only times he had found her to be completely calm were when she was around her horse. It also was becoming apparent to Ardeth that she generally didn’t elaborate about herself without being asked pointedly. Even though she had her back to him, Ardeth gestured with a hand towards her hair, as he asked “You made mention of it being a family trait?” Bethany spoke hesitantly, unaccustomed as she was to speaking about herself. “It’s something that comes to pass in each generation of my family. It’s some sort of a hereditary anomaly. I was born with no pigment in my hair. Snowy white as it is now on the day I was born.” Ardeth’s brow furrowed. “Snoh-wee?” What is that?” Bethany thought. “Hmmm, I’d have to think of another example. I forgot you probably have never seen snow. Well then, as white as the feathers of a dove, as white as the brightest cloud in the sky. That’s why-” she stopped abruptly, catching herself starting to ramble. Ardeth prompted her, “That’s why what?” She sighed deeply as she rubbed her forehead against Platiado’s cheek. “That’s why my Indian name is Morning Dove.” Ardeth spoke with compassion in his voice, “It must have been difficult as a child, to look so different.” She spoke cautiously. “I was mocked, called names. Teased by the other children because of it. I hid myself away in books and within my family. It’s probably what got me into reading books and the books I devoured most often were about history and magic.” Ardeth could sense now that her frustration from earlier had drained out of her. Brushing Platiado had calmed her and he ventured into the unknown. “And was it magic you used to move Fahd?” Bethany smirked. “Not so much use of magic… more like a use of energy.” “And you read about this energy and learned it?” She nodded as she finished brushing Platiado and hung the brush back in its place. “Yes, to some degree it can be learned, not so much from books, but from good teachers.” Ardeth was encouraged by her tone. “Well then, on the subject of energy… what say we fortify ourselves with some food and gain some more… traditional energy?” Bethany looked around Platiado’s pen, to make sure he had some water. She patted the horse’s side before speaking to Ardeth again, a slight smile on her face. “Well… I’d say lead on… but first, could you tell me where my saddlebags are? I need to get something out of them first if I’m going to eat.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Ardeth led Bethany to the kitchen tent where he outfitted them both with a bowl and a cup for the evening. Bethany waved off the offer of the cup. “I have my own, thank you,” she said as she dug into her saddlebag. She pulled out a beat-up white enameled cup with several chips of enamel missing from it, showing the dark metal underneath. The way she was feeling, she needed a little reminder of home right now. Bethany resigned herself to the feeling that these people were certainly not going to go out of their way to make her feel comfortable during her stay with them. So it would be up to her to actively seek out her own comfort. Even if it was in the smallest ways. Some Med-jai returning from patrol joined the small group that sat around the campfire to fortify their bodies and contemplate this new information and the changes it could lead to. Passing around the various dishes of food, everyone piled their meals onto their individual plates. Ardeth sat across from Bethany, trying to convince himself it was to observe his newest potential ally and see her ways and habits. Observing her over the flames of the campfire, he found a space beside Fahd and they spoke intermittently about this point or that point that Bethany had told them. Fahd occasionally glared at her, still trying to comprehend what she had done to him. She had not laid a finger on him and yet he knew it was she who had propelled him across the sand to land on his rear. Ardeth had to confess, if only to himself, both her demeanor as well as her appearance intrigued him. Ardeth gazed at her over the bright yellow and orange-tinged flames. Granted, women of any shape or form were not all that rare in the desert nowadays, but still not common. Most of the warriors’ wives and female relatives stayed behind in the main camp closer to the city, though that was slowly beginning to change. The elderly and the children were kept generally closer to Cairo, where immediate medical attention and schooling were available and where they were be out of harm’s way. Bethany seemed very at ease for someone who had so recently entered into his world. And she appeared to quietly accept the hesitance of those around her, but it was obvious that her spirit was heavy with something great. At least it appeared that she had gotten her anger under control. Ardeth noticed her demeanor change. Immediately her tired shoulders straightened and her eyes widened at something behind Ardeth. He followed her line of vision to see the reason for it. Imad walked by. Apparently he had recovered completely. Bethany’s eyes sought out Imad’s gaze in the hopes of catching his attention and try to clear up what had transpired earlier, but Imad averted his eyes as he made his way to the supply tent. When Imad stepped out of the supply tent, he had a fresh pile of black robes in his hands. Ardeth could see that it disturbed Bethany. Her cheeks darkened with embarrassment, realizing that it was because of her that he required the change of clothes. She had smelled the reason as Joshua and old Fazeem led Imad in front of her. It didn’t seem to matter to her that she had nothing intentional to Imad, her self-given guilt lay open upon her caramel skin. To think someone could be so physically angry one moment and so mentally distraught the next was something that Ardeth was having difficulty putting together in his mind. This visitor to the Medjai camp was a paradox. Ardeth had broken bread with many an explorer, treasure seeker, scholar and more. To learn what he could in any way. To learn what kept bringing people from all over the world to seek out the City of the Dead and the other locations that the Medjai protected. To learn new ways of fighting. To learn new ways of healing and medicine. In all his years as a Medjai warrior and now most recently as chieftain, rarely had Ardeth seen these experienced men carry themselves with the ease he saw in Bethany. They were generally quite leery of the Medjai, unsure if the all the legends and myths of their mercilessness were true or exaggerated. Ardeth indulged himself with a rare smile as he prepared his own dish and thought how the Medjai had allowed and even encouraged these stories about themselves. It served as an excellent deterrent and most assuredly made their mission somewhat easier. He found himself pleasantly astounded that Bethany had discovered this truth. Ardeth had to keep reminding himself that Bethany was probably close to his own age, yet her white hair and deportment naturally made one think of someone older. Even if she were older than Ardeth, she could not be more than forty. But all one had to do to realize their error was to look into her eyes. They were warm, open and trusting… like a child’s… with twinkles of mirth and harmless mischief in them as well. And there was that child-like wisdom in there as well, that look of a child not giving in to what adults tell them to do and say and be. Granted, there was also a resignation to her ease, as though she had no choice but to accept that people would treat her very differently, solely because she looked different. Bethany seemed to have maturity beyond her years and he suspected that she, like him, had been forced to grow up faster than most people. But he could also see a belligerent edge. She took great effort to control her emotions. Her youthful indignation had slipped out more than a couple of times during the standoff at the camp gates. Apparently all her traveling and studies had not fully tempered her streak of righteous anger. It said a lot about all the traveling she must have done. She was economical in her words and ways, just saying what needed saying. He looked down at his plate, realizing that he had never traveled much at all. Only once had he ever left the earthly bonds of Egypt. To England to assist O’Connell and Evelyn when Imhotep had last been shaken loose from his accursed slumber for a second time. Thankfully the second time wasn’t Evelyn’s fault. As Ardeth watched the warriors partake of their supper, he took notice that Bethany did not place on her plate the cured pork that was making the rounds. For a moment, Ardeth thought she might be Muslim. But as Ardeth continued watching her, he noted she took no flesh of any kind. While most of the warriors did not make a point of speaking to most strangers that were allowed in the camp, they always shared and offered what little hospitality they could. The Medjai knew better than anyone that you had to at times share and at others combine forces if you were to survive the many perils of the desert. For the desert was a most harsh mistress and it bode one well to have a friend give you shelter. Ardeth looked on as Bethany took lentils, couscous, dates, pita and hummus and numerous other items. But anytime a plate of jerky or lamb or fowl came her way, she politely passed it on to the warrior beside her at the fire. She had removed her gloves so she could eat and Ardeth could see she had strange markings on her skin. She had thin, dark, delicate spirals twirling around her forearms that were interspersed with what appeared to be leaves. The spiraling continued towards her wrists and then branched out across the backs of her hands… along each of her fingers, traveling around each knuckle and ending near the tip of each finger. Ardeth recalled something that several of the Medjai warriors whose families were Hindu or Arab telling him of their marriage ceremonies. Henna designs were traced on the hands and feet of the bride and groom prior to the wedding as a symbol of good luck. The day of the henna painting ceremony was called Mendhi. Ardeth couldn’t help but compare Bethany’s markings to the intricate designs he had heard of. He also noticed that she managed to carry on a conversation, albeit stilted, with the Medjai warrior on either side of her. She apparently spoke some Hebrew, some Arabic and some Urdu. Along with the warriors’ limited assortment of English and many expressive hand gestures, the three made do. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ After the evening meal, some of the men lit cheroots in the campfire and got up to check the camp perimeters. A few went to the inventory tent, to make note of what they were running low on, so a supply run could be made in the next day or two. Bethany insisted on assisting with the chores and so helped with feeding the horses. This would allow her to visit again with her beloved Platiado. Those warriors that were not Muslim passed around a wineskin. Ardeth found that as a leader, he had to make compromises and concessions to get the best out of his men. After all, they were mere mortal men protecting the world from supernatural forces. The men who had been raised non-Muslim knew the pleasures of wine and hard liquor. Ardeth allowed limited drinking, but only on full stomachs after the evening meal and only for those not about to go on patrol duty or guarding the camp. Otherwise it was only permitted when the warriors went on leave in Cairo. To be found drunk on duty was automatic and permanent banishment from the Medjai tribe. Ardeth watched as Bethany returned from the stables again. He watched as she strolled and dexterously tapped out some of the contents of a tiny sack onto a stark white piece of paper. With her teeth, she tugged the drawstring of the sack closed and then brought the sack inside her cloak. With both hands, she rolled the contents into a perfect cylinder. Finally she stopped walking and dug inside her cloak again and came up with a wooden match. She raised her foot up at an angle, striking the match against the sole of her boot. Lighting her cigarette, she sat back down by the fire with her tin cup now almost empty of the strong Medjai tea she’d been served with her meal. Joshua approached Bethany with the wineskin. Joshua had been sitting next to her at supper and they chatted fairly easily, thanks to Joshua’s knowledge of English. Bethany smiled pleasantly as she nodded at Joshua’s offer, sipping the last of the evening’s tea and then holding out the empty enamel cup for him to fill. After Joshua had given Bethany a share of the wineskin, he sat beside her and they continued their conversation. When Ardeth heard their laughter, he decided to have a closer look. He approached, carrying his own cup on the pretense of having a small after-dinner respite. He inquired, he hoped, pleasantly enough so as not to inspire Bethany’s on-again off-again wrath. “Joshua, what are you saying to our guest that would make her laugh so?” Joshua looked up at his chieftain, rising quickly to his feet out of respect. Seeing Ardeth hold out his cup, Joshua gave him some of the homemade wine. “Sayaadi… we were discussing our siblings. We are apparently both the babies of our families and we-” Joshua stopped suddenly. Ardeth looked at him curiously, seeing the sheepish look on the young warrior’s face. Ardeth raised an eyebrow as he asked, “And?” Joshua continued, in a halting manner. “And… uh… and… well… we each know what it’s like to be at the mercy of our older siblings.” Ardeth nodded solemnly, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. “I understand that well enough. I have a younger brother that I would often terrorize and also two older brothers who took great pleasure in seeing me embarrassed or beaten.” Bethany smiled, but got the distinct impression that something was being omitted. Oh well, she thought, I can’t expect to become their bosom buddy in one night and hear all their stories and secrets. Ardeth’s gaze rested kindly on Joshua for moment. “But in the long run, it would almost seem to be the job of elder siblings to try the patience and mettle of their youngers.” Bethany continued smiling as she recalled the rough-housing her and her own siblings committed, catching herself before she laughed out loud, thinking of the various cuts and scabs that she seemed doomed to permanently sport as a youngster. She added her piece to the conversation. “Yes… surviving your own family can be quite a feat.” Ardeth’s face fell as he spoke rather severely. “Yes, it can… and then we are thrust into the world and discover what real survival entails.” Joshua got the distinct feeling that the conversation was taking a turn that didn’t involve him. Ardeth would surely see fit to question Bethany on her rather unorthodox visit to the Medjai camp and decided it would be best if he made himself scarce. Joshua spoke. “Very true, my chief... very true. Our childhood rarely prepares us for what the world has in store for us. No bedtime stories told to me as a child could have prepared me for my duty among the Medjai or what I would see with my own eyes.” Seeing this as good a time as any, Joshua made his exit. “Well, I’ll say good night now and help see to the camp. Miss Krieger, will you be needing anything? We have spare tents. A bedroll... or some blankets perhaps? “Oh please… no need to be so formal with me… please call me Bethany or Luna.” Joshua bowed slightly as he smiled. “Very well… Bethany… do you require anything?” Ardeth concurred. “Yes, I’ll have some of my men set up a tent for you.” Bethany shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but it won’t be necessary. But if you have three or four relatively straight wooden poles about seven feet or longer that you can loan me, I can manage to set up my teepee myself.” Joshua gazed at Ardeth and found himself pleased to see his chieftain’s countenance resembled his own: total confusion. Ardeth said softly, “What is this… tee… pee… you speak of?” Bethany explained, “It’s similar to a tent. Instead of fabric, you wrap animal skins around poles. It’s a mode of housing utilized by certain indigenous peoples of America.” Ardeth looked at the young warrior, “Joshua, go to the training field and bring four of the extra-long practice staffs to Miss Krieger. Show her the clearing between my tent and Fahd’s so she can set up her camp there.” “Right away,” Joshua responded, already turning away and heading towards the training grounds. “Miss Krieger, you will excuse me. I must get reports from the men who have returned from patrol.” Bethany sighed heavily. She was starting to feel like a broken record. “Please… won’t you call me Bethany or Luna?” “What does Luna mean?” “It’s ‘moon’ in Spanish.” “Very well. Bethany. Until later.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The Sisterhood Of One - Chapter 6 |