The Desert Falcon

Chapter 22, The Unexpected Tide

I became aware of a a foreign presence in my tent, as the coldness of a blade pressed against my throat. A rough, calloused hand came over my mouth, rendering me silent in the wake of the terror that raged through me. My startled surprise was a near understatement, my heart nearly ripping through my chest in agonizing pain, as unadulterated fear threatened to engulf me.

I sensed two men near. One stood outside, no doubt keeping watch, a giant gaping slit in my tent providing the only clue as to how they were able to infiltrate my quarters without alerting my guard. He held up a small lantern, allowing him to see. The other was inside, hovering over my pallet, as he lifted his hand to his mouth, one finger over his lips, in a gesture meant to indicate that I was to be quiet.

Like I had an abundance of choices.

My heart continued to pound in my chest, reminding me of the precariousness of the situation I found myself in. Many of times I had contemplated what my death would entail. Should such a a thing come to pass, I had hoped it would occur in a fashion that was befitting of the kind of life I wished to have lived. I envisioned a life that would have me witness the aftermath of my astonishing accompliments-ones that carried its influence for centuries to come for the betterment of our Persian empire. It was wishful thinking, perhaps, but it was my hope that I would amount to something one day. My contracted occupation and travels to the far east had solidified my desire that I was destined to contribute more to this life than being at the behest of a husband and a slave to my children. At this point, I had resigned myself to the notion that I would never marry, for who would have the Sultan's consort if not to decorate her as an ornament in his harem? I shuddered to think of what kind of life that would be.

Of courses, having my throat slit in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of a city was not what I had in mind when I left this world, my body no doubt to be disposed of in the desert as it decomposed for the vultures to consume.

And somehow, in the turmoil of my thoughts, my anger soared. If I was going to die, I wanted something much grander than this outcome.

I could not see their faces clearly in the dark. Moonlight spilled from outside, providing little light for me to see. I could see the silhouettes of the men, however, along with the sharp glistening of the blade pressed tightly against my throat.

"Do not scream. If you scream, I will slit your throat and that of the unconscious man outside. Nod, if you understand," the familiar voice of Haman ordered.

I nodded almost immediately, realizing that they had subdued my guard, leaving me with little opportunity to call for help. He removed his hand slowly and I waited silently, as he motioned for the other man to enter.

Several thoughts came to mind. Firstly, they knew I was a woman. With my shawl gone, they appeared unsurprised that I was not the man I had portrayed myself to be. The lack of an initial surprise at my appearance alerted me that they had known for quite some time. Secondly, even if I had any hope of concealing my identity, it was too late. My hair was let loose, allowed to cascade freely and I wore a simple white, linen tunic and pants. My breasts were not bound and it was clear the shapely mounds were visible.

Third, and most alarmingly, this was planned. They had simply been biding their time. It could not have been a mere coincidence that they chose to execute such a plan when I was outside the palace walls and so close to the outskirts of several cities. This would give them ample opportunity to escape and hide away in any of the surrounding cities. Indeed, this was a coordinated kidnapping, one seemingly executed by professionals.

Immediately, the second man grabbed my satchel, thrown in the corner, before he approached me. He averted his eyes, as he tossed me a fresh tunic and trousers, from elsewhere. "Get up and get dressed. We will be leaving," Haman explained.