She nodded, and he dismounted and led the horse a few hundred yards toward the entrance. As he had predicted, a single mounted guard watched their approach, his pistol trained on Dimitry. “Halt,” the man called. “Come no closer.”
In response, Dimitry raised his arms to show he held no weapon, then jerked his head toward Hattie and spoke at length in Arabic.
“Are you injured, miss?” the man called out. “I cannot understand what this fellow is saying.”
Mentally apologizing for the deception, Hattie only bowed her head. Dimitry continued to speak volubly in Arabic, and the soldier sheathed his pistol and held up a palm to him, indicating quiet. “All right, all right—let me see.” He kicked his horse toward Hattie, but as he passed Dimitry he was suddenly seized by his right hand and pulled off the horse with a quick movement. After a brief scuffle, the soldier found himself looking into the barrel of his own pistol while Dimitry instructed him to raise his hands. Dimitry then backed toward the soldier’s horse and removed its bridle, slinging it over his shoulder as he came back to mount up before Hattie.
The soldier watched him from the ground, his hands raised, and Hattie could see him calculating his opportunity to make a rush to save her. As she could not allow him to be injured in such an endeavor, she said calmly, “Pray do not be concerned. I am in no danger.”
His face lifted to hers in surprise, the soldier replied, “Very well, miss.”
Watching behind her, Hattie could see him continue to stare after them as they slipped through the opening, then she faced forward again as Dimitry once again urged the horse into a gallop.
After a few minutes of hard riding, they left the main road and headed toward the river, their pace slowing in keeping with the terrain that was getting softer as they came closer to the Nile. Finally, in a field of melons, Dimitry allowed the horse to walk for a bit and Hattie found herself taking a deep breath, relieved the mad flight appeared to be over.
“We will get off and walk, now.”
“I have lost a shoe,” Hattie confessed.
He chuckled. “No matter, I will carry you so we leave but one set of footprints. Don’t lose the other one—we must leave no clues.”
Once he dismounted, she slid off the horse and onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist. She had been carried many a time in such a manner by Robbie, but deemed it prudent not to give voice to this bit of nostalgia. Dimitry placed a hand on the horse’s nose in an appreciative gesture, spoke to it for a moment in his own language, then slapped it on its way.
“A good soldier,” she commented, watching it trot away into the fields.
“Two good soldiers,” he said, hoisting her up higher on his back. “I love you.”
She kissed his neck as a reward for this sentiment—up to this point he had been all business.
“I wish your dress was not white.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said, kissing his ear. “I should have worn something more appropriate for an abduction.”
He tilted his head as they trudged along because he liked what she was doing to his ear. “I would give you my tunic to wear, but then I would have naught but a white shirt.”
“No matter,” she said generously. “What is it we fear, searchers?”
“There will be searchers,” he said with certainty.
This was of interest, and no doubt he referred to the murderous Monsieur Chauvelin and the other French soldiers—the ones who had stared at her because they knew. Of course they would search; both she and the associate were now missing under inexplicable circumstances, and no one would look forward to making such a report to the prisoner.
After a few more minutes they came to the water’s edge, and Dimitry began to walk in the shallow water, splashing occasionally when the step was unexpectedly deep. This continued for several hundred yards, until they came across a dirt embankment with several fishing boats hauled onshore.
Making a sound of satisfaction, Dimitry instructed her to slide off onto the floorboards of one such vessel, then he procured a pole and pushed her out into the river shallows. Leaping into the narrow wooden boat, he then began to pole the vessel along the shore. In a quiet tone he directed, “You must lie on the floor and not speak; the sound will travel across the water.”
Hattie obligingly curled up on the floorboard of the boat while Dimitry silently maneuvered the small vessel through the bulrushes. She watched that portion of the shoreline she could see from her position and after a short period of time, imagined she could hear horses and voices in the distance, although she had no point of reference and could not guess where they were. Silently, Dimity maneuvered the boat so that they were well hidden among the bulrushes that grew thick along the shoreline. Crouching down to his hands and knees, he then lay atop her, covering her white dress with his dark-clad body. As though nothing unusual were happening, he said in a low voice, “We shall wait a bit, now.”