The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [43]
A very unusual man.
“YOU DID NOT EAT WELL,” Tarik said disapprovingly. “You don’t like my food?”
“I’m not hungry,” Selene said.
“I could send for something else.”
“The food is excellent. I’ve just had little appetite of late.”
“It’s good to eat heartily at midday. It gives you strength to—”
Kadar interrupted, “If she doesn’t wish to eat, don’t urge her.”
“Ah, you’re quick to jump to her defense even in this small thing.” Tarik smiled. “I meant no harm. I’ve no intention of forcing food upon the lady. I merely wish you both to enjoy it here.”
“We’re not here to enjoy ourselves. You promised to show me the box.”
“And so I shall.” He rose to his feet. “This very minute. Come with me to my chamber.” He turned to Selene. “Would you also like to see it? It’s an object of great beauty, and you must be curious.”
“I’m seldom curious.” She avoided Kadar’s amused glance as she stood up. “But I have nothing better to do.”
Tarik’s chamber was as stark and simple as the room he had given her was soft and textured. A gauze-draped pallet instead of a bed. No tapestry to keep out the night chill. A table and two unadorned wooden chairs. The only ornate object in the room was the chest set against the wall. It appeared very old but lovingly cared for. The intricately carved scene on the dark-teak lid was a small boat drifting down a river past three long-legged birds wading among graceful cattails.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tarik lifted the lid. “It was carved by a young slave of the court.”
Kadar pounced. “What court?”
Tarik only smiled. “But this wooden chest is far less impressive than the object it shelters. I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Kadar’s eyes widened in surprise, as he only saw a small wooden statue resting on a bed of purple silk. “I’m afraid I don’t agree.”
Neither did Selene. She had been expecting splendor, and the nine-inch wooden statue had nothing splendid about it. The crudely carved figure was that of a robed woman but with the head of a jackal. She said, “Your statue is interesting but no treasure beyond price.”
“It is to me.” Tarik lovingly stroked the statue. “Tell me, Kadar, do you see no beauty in it either?” When Kadar didn’t answer, he glanced at him. “What is it?”
Kadar was staring at the statue with narrowed eyes. “Nothing. It just looks . . . familiar.”
“You’ve seen something like it before?”
“No, I don’t—” He shrugged. “Perhaps, but I can’t recall where.” His gaze shifted to Tarik’s face. “Is this a ploy to deceive us? I didn’t come here for a statue. Where is the box?”
“You hurt me.” Tarik sighed. “Oh, well, perhaps you’ll prefer this.” With a flourish, he removed the purple silk on which the statue had rested.
Selene inhaled sharply.
“My God,” Kadar whispered.
The shimmering gold box was perhaps two feet by one foot and it, too, was intricately carved. Not with a gentle country scene, as the chest was, but with odd, sharp symbols. Lapis lazuli stones formed a scrolled needlelike cross that covered the entire length of the box.
Selene reached out and gently touched the cross. “It’s truly wonderful . . .”
“Yes.”
“No wonder Nasim wants it,” Kadar said.
Tarik shrugged. “He’d crush the coffer beneath his horses’ hooves if it meant he could have what’s inside.”
Selene shook her head. “I can’t believe that. Even if he cares nothing for beauty, it must have great value.”
“He’d destroy it.” Tarik carefully draped the silk back over the box, placed the statue on top of it, and closed the chest. “Without a second thought.”
“The cross must have some meaning,” Kadar probed. “Though Nasim assured me the content was not a religious relic and I’d have no trouble with the Knights Templar.”
Tarik raised his brows. “And you believed him?”
“Not entirely. Is it a holy relic?”
“Some might consider it so.”
“And you keep it here in your chamber, unguarded?”
“My men are loyal. It would be no easy task to wrest it from me.” He shrugged. “And perhaps, in my heart, I wish