Lost in Antiquity

“You can’t keep doing this!” Chloe Martin was relatively certain of her statement. She was frustrated and upset, which seemed a constant state of late. “I have to have some sort of life apart from what you dictate!”

“I gave you a life, you ungrateful wench!” the tall, muscular man bellowed his belief, gesturing with a curt wave of his hand. “One you would never have accomplished on your own had I not interceded with your puny existence.”

Chloe’s mouth fell agape for such audacity, a sharp gasp escaping her lips, the large gray eyes widening with alarm and anger.

“Do not speak to me in that tone!” the male looked down his nose at the obstinate female. “I am a Pharaoh, you insolent peasant!” the dark creamy brown eyes flashed the fire of battle.

In truth, the man was thoroughly enjoying the exchange for few dared even raise their voices to him, his power was that great in his own time.

This, however, was not his time, he realized.

“You ain’t nothing to me, Jack.” the petite red hair advised ‘insolently’. “A nuisance and royal pain in my ass, maybe.” She stepped, her five-foot four frame directly before the belligerent man, those gray eyes holding his cool stare.

The man lifted a noble head, a brow lifting slowly as he assessed the moment and his opponent. “...You amuse me.” he stated drolly. “If you did not, I would have you beheaded.”

“Those days are gone, Scooby.” the tiny woman swayed her head in a dismissing fashion, her hand waving about with a flourish. “You are a figment of my imagination and as such, you got no power! None!” she took great delight in proclaiming the fact. “Face it. Get over yourself. You’re dead, man. Your time passed centuries ago. You got no right to infringe upon mine!” she shoved the massive chest as hard as she could but the guy didn’t even budge an inch.

Merely stood, scowling down at the insect before him. “I take you from an obscure, hopeless future as a mere associate to some nameless, cretin of a person...a doddering old relic...”

“You’re one to talk!” she snapped peevishly. “Professor Harding was a stellar member of his vocation; I’ll have you know. I was lucky to get that job, right out of college! How old are you?” she accused, again, a well manicured finger poking the hard muscles of his chest. “You were born in the 1st Century, according to you! That’s not old, that’s archaic!”

“Grave robber!” he snipped right back. “Your professor was nothing more than that...as are you! And you dare to attempt insult me?”

“Archeologist.” she stamped her foot, which was bare, so it hurt even though she stood on a woven rug of Persian quality. “It is a noble, respected profession!”

“It is now, since I have made your name and that loathsome profession honorable by my timely intervention. Your name is renowned...because of me!”

“I never wanted to be ‘renowned’...news flash!” she was close to tears. “I hate being ‘renowned’. I hate it and I hate you for making my life miserable! I wish I had never met you...ever!”

The silence was brittle for that remark hit home. The man felt it to his core. She seemed genuinely upset on this occasion. Usually, her temper came and went then she settled and all was back to normal for a spell.

But something in the way that was stated, something in her manner this evening...

“...I never knew you felt...that.” he licked his lips thoughtfully, his tone altering to a quiet dignity.

“I don’t.” she hastily retracted the words, or tried to. “I...well...” Chloe felt horrible that had slipped out in the heat of battle. “Not...miserable. Not that, just...” the small frame deflated as she realized how harsh the words were. “I’m not happy anymore, that’s all. I’m just not...okay?”

She sought the guy out, her expression anxious, willing to compromise, though. “It’s just all...coming down on me, I guess.”

He...nodded slowly. “What has happened of which I am not aware.” something, surely, to make her so...disagreeable, for all her temper, she usually was even and controlled in all she did. Which tonight, she had not been at all.

Chloe sat on the couch centered in the small apartment, with it’s colorful cushions and cushy sections. Her small frame appeared defeated, her manner lost...uncertain. “The internet is calling me a freak...and worse.”

The regal bearing glanced to the silent screen on her messy desk area. “That box which shows images of naked men.”

“Oh.” Chloe arose hastily, swallowing her trepidation. “That, eh...no, that was just...eh.” she frowned hard, looking at the dark screen as well. She wrung her hands anxiously. “You shouldn’t just pop in whenever you want, you know. There is such a thing as privacy but...no, I mean, it does more than...it’s a communication devise. Everyone in the entire world has one of those and everyone of them think I’m...weird.”

She sat back down, morosely unhappy.

He watched her for a long moment. “Does it matter what anyone else thinks? It has not in the past.”

“Yeah well, in the past, I didn’t think they were right.” she stated, pouting prettily. “Lets face it, my life isn’t exactly normal these days. What I do must seem...a little off the beam, if you get my drift.”

He lowered his head, his hands coming to his hips.

He stood, feet planted firmly apart, his muscular chest bare, for he wore the mantel of his power like a king wears his crown. A swash of purple silk hung over one well developed shoulder, tucked into the band of coarsely woven brown linen pants which wrapped about muscular calves.

He wore sturdy sandals, and a gold medallion pinned on the side of the pants which kept the silk in place. A blue belt of light weight cord graced his trim waist, braided with gold fibers. His dark hair, which was long and unruly, fell over his forehead, giving him a younger appearance than his true age.

Chloe had long become accustomed to his mode of dress. At times, he dressed more formally but usually, he felt comfortable enough to ‘dress down’ when in her company.

The girl wore her fuzzy jammie pants with images of Christmas trees printed on the white fluff. She was bare foot, a red tee with cut-off sleeves was her nightwear. The tee shirt was emblazoned with lettering: I Want You To Know, Someone Cares...Not Me, But Someone

Her red hair was clipped up in a messy bun, strands falling about the pretty face with it’s freckles and naturally tanned surface, sans make-up this night, for she had already had her shower earlier.

“Hey, Narmie.” Chloe sought the guy out. “I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry.” she waited on tenterhooks for him to acknowledge the apology. “It’s just been one of those days.”

She tried a smile. Which was returned. He came, sitting on a chair facing the couch, his hand resting on his thigh. “...It is not as if I am not accustomed to your illogical moods.”

She scoffed openly, then chuckled. “Well, you know women and our moods. You with your eighty wives.”

“I have only seven wives.” he shifted a defiant glance. “I had no need for further when Merit came to me.”

The young woman fell silent, hoping he was in one of his contemplative moods when he shared private things about his life and that of his most beloved wife.

“You said she was a gift from a Turkish Prince.” she prompted.

His face darkened. “It was the Turks which took her from me.”

Chloe stiffened, her attention immediately given over. “You found this out how?” it was news to her.

“A messenger was captured by my men at our border crossing from the Parthian Empire. He talked...after a while.”

Chloe scowled. “I would to if you tortured me. I’d say anything you wanted. How do you know he was telling the truth?”

“He was telling the truth.” was all the man would say, she knew. His massive fist was clenching and unclenching, his handsome features chiseled in stony perfection.

“A lead?” she asked hopefully. “What is Symeon saying?” She asked of this man’s chief scribe, who was the closest thing to a friend Narmen had, she suspected. A trusted advisor and powerful advocate of the Pharoah’s court.

“I have sent envoys and military attaches to certain parts of Galatia. If any information is to be found, they will find it.”

Chloe relaxed mentally, if not physically. “I hope you hear something soon.” useless words, she knew but there was nothing else to be said.

“Does your senses tell you nothing?” he grasped at straws, he knew. “You are a Seer. It is why I have found you. Why I am here.”

“I am not a Seer. I told you a thousand times, man.” she sighed heavily.

“You set there speaking to a ‘figment’ of your imagination and yet say, you have no special power to connect to the nether world?”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” She arose, too agitated to sit. “What if I’m just bonkers? What if...” she faced him with the inquiry. “I’m three fries short of a Happy Meal? What if...you’re not really here?”

“How did you find all those lost sites? You know you can see things others can not. You have visual proof of that fact.” he reminded, his tone censured. “Who showed you those things?”

She had no answers. Clearly.

“Do you think you found them on your own?”

Chloe knew that was not possible, at least.

“There is nothing wrong with your mind except it is stubborn and opinionated, which...” he reminded stoutly. “A female should not be. She should know her place.”

Her head fell back. “You are a Neanderthal.”

“No, I am from the 1st century, which is well beyond such linage. You claim to be a grave robber. You should know your history.”

“I know you’re an asshole.” the woman did, her expression saying as much.

“You are tired.” he sensed by her demeanor.

“...Yes.” She sat back down, this time at the small kitchen table over by the window. She looked out over New York’s seedy side, her neighborhood not exactly Hudson Yards.

“...Do you want it to stop?” he hated to ask but he had to know.

The woman moved carefully, her tone soft, uncertain. “Would you? If I really needed it?”

The man did not hesitate. She had become someone he respected, admired. “Yes.”

The gray eyes filled with tears. “...You would let her go?”

“No.” he determined with a strong rejoinder. “I will find her but not at the expense of...you.” he softened. “You have proven invaluable and a loyal subject.”

“I’m no ‘subject’ you cretin.” she grimaced, the mood replaced by a testy one. “I’m a flesh and blood person. I matter. People...matter!”

“Did I not just say that?” he innocently inquired, knowing he did not.

The silence returned as her mood diminished. “...What if you don’t find her. What if she’s lost to you?”

“She is not.”

Chloe gave up. She studied the print on her pajama bottoms meticulously. “Where to from here?”

Narmen took heart, lifting his head, holding his smile. “Are you certain?”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do with my life...such as it is.” she glanced about the dowdy apartment with its stacks of books and papers and ‘projects’ in the works.

“You are cranky.”

“I am not!” the woman bristled. “I hate when you accuse me of something I am not!”

He held his opinion and his humor, merely holding that steamy little gaze.

“I’m not...that’s all.” she lost some of the steam.

“We shall journey to Anatolia.”

“You mean, Turkey.” she rolled her eyes. “And what is in Turkey that’s so important to your search?”

“It was Merit’s original home. Perhaps they thought to return her to the Regent. If that is the case, I shall order his death. For he has betrayed, not only me, but his country’s agreement with mine.”

“You didn’t think of that right away?”

“I did and instituted discrete searches, but diplomacy dictates I move carefully, for if her father had nothing to do with the disappearance...” he let it go. “There is one area, however, which is taboo. No male is allowed to enter the walls of this monastery. As other more promising leads were to be followed, I held this one in reserve.”

“Galatia is one of the seven cities in the Book of Revelation.” Chloe mused quietly.

Narmen glanced to the shelves over by the television. Another contraption which he did not trust and seldom asked about. He crossed hefting a black bible. “This is the book of Jesus to which you refer. He is a teacher.”

Chloe smiled. “He was many things to many people. Still is. You should read that.”

“Symeon advises that I should not.” he replaced the book carefully.

“I have to wonder what Symeon fears then.” the woman shrugged his shoulders.

“You need to rest.” he decided. “I will come again when the planets are aligned. Symeon will advise. If you need me before.” he waved his hand to the vicinity needed. “You have the amulet.”

Chloe hid that thing away, hoping never to have to see if it worked or not. “Yeah, yeah...the amulet. Got it.”

“It holds much power and can summon me if the need is great.”

“The need won’t be.” she assured. “Just go back to your little time portal and enjoy the rest of you day...or night, whatever.” she arose. “I’m going to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and hit the hay. So...don’t let the door hit you on your way out, big guy. I’m down for the count. Big day tomorrow. There’s a sale at Pennys.”

He shook a woeful head. “I do not understand half of the dribble which comes out of your mouth.”

“Most don’t.” she knew. “Goodnight, Sweet Prince.”

“I am not a Prince.” he disdained. “I am...”

“Yeah. Got it.” she nodded amiably. “Big time Pharoah, who is too big for his weird pants, if one asks me.”

“One did not.” he cut her a look then watched as she crossed to the small kitchette, tiptoeing to reach the peanut butter on a top shelf.

Chloe turned to him...but the room was empty. Silent...Still.

She momentarily wondered...was she already off her rocker? Only time would tell, she supposed. She went to fetch the grape jam.