by D. S.
He remembered little of where it had happened, some collection of daub and wattle hovels near Megiddo if memory served. But he did remember those tears. At some point he’d turned her about so her husband could see her face, and so he could enjoy the cuckold’s reaction. Perhaps that’s where such fancies had started. The man lay dying and helpless, aware that his wife was submitting to a greater man than he. Amenhotep had smiled at him as he worked on her, commenting on her worth, and critiquing her shortcomings. She’d wept the dying man’s name at first but soon enough her husband’s eyes glazed over, and she grew silent while her new lover took his pleasure. But towards the end, before he drew the knife across her throat she’d quietly sobbed another name.
Pharaoh turned to his ghaffir. “What was that whore’s name again, Narmer?” He practically shouted it. Several heads turned towards him, he caught Amenophis’s young bride glancing at him. She looked somewhat embarrassed. He raised his goblet in her direction and saw her blush; quickly she lowered her head, glancing fitfully at her husband. It wants me.
A slave girl approached to fill his goblet, pale skin and guileless eyes, a pretty thing, very pretty in fact, he didn’t recognise her. One from the Heliopolis batch perhaps, gods, there must be something in the water in that place. He didn’t usually go in for Habiru but this one’s lips looked especially promising. A gesture from the Godking and the golden haired beauty bit those lips looking somewhat reluctant. If I wasn’t such a patient and benevolent king I’d slap her about a bit and maybe take the skin off her fingers for that look. Instead, he simply gestured a second time.
She glanced over her shoulder as if searching for someone; she failed to find who she was looking for. Nervously she turned back. “My master … Lord Yuya he … he says I … I don’t have to obey such commands if it’s not my want.” Pharaoh’s eyes widened, incredulous, the highest ladies of the realm would not dare speak as such. He jerked his head in Narmer’s direction. The ghaffir stepped forward and gifted the girl a fist in the stomach as reward for her impudence. She collapsed to her knees, coughing. Pharaoh gestured a third time, he would not lower himself to sharing words with a slave. This time the girl had sense enough to do as commanded. Pharaoh turned back to the crimson goddess, staring at her as the slave went about her business.
“Which one was that, Divinity?” Narmer asked, “The Nubian princess, sister of Memnon? Rabiah of Tjaru?” Amenhotep grunted and took a deep swig of his wine before placing a hand on the back of the slave’s head and forcing her to take his full length. His eyes found the goddess and refused to look away. He saw the Princess giggle at something again, watched the movement of her throat as she took a dainty sip from her goblet of honeyed Shedeh. He felt himself spasm as the Princess wiped a little excess wine from her lips. Despite growing struggles, he held the Habiru fast as he emptied his seed into her mouth. Staring at the Beautiful One it hadn’t taken him long. Tiye turned at the sound of his climax and caught his eye. Her look turned from one of disgust to horror … or perhaps it was lust, he couldn’t quite tell which. It was almost as if she recognised who the Godking had chosen. Amenhotep laughed at that before dismissively he shoved the Habiru to the floor and booted her away. She’d hardly been worth the effort truth be told. Highborn ladies were better. He sighed. A bad day all round. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the high priest of Heliopolis surging forward, his face like thunder.
“Amaris, to me!” The girl hurried towards him and he placed a protective arm about her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest. The hall grew quieter, until at last all that could be heard were the girl’s faint sobs. Yuya held Pharaoh’s gaze, his eyes bitter and cold as frost.
Amenhotep laughed in his face, “My apologies, Lord Yuya, I did not realise she was one of yours.” He threw the high priest a copper, “That should cover it.”
There was a ripple of laughter at that. Pharaoh grinned broadly at the man expecting him to laugh or bow and thank him for honouring his house as such. But for some reason Lord Yuya did not move. He must be in his cups. He saw the man clenching his fists; saw anger in his eyes. “Is there a problem, Yuya?” Pharaoh’s smile began to fade, his lip curled in an almost threatening gesture.
Still the high priest held his gaze, his face growing colder by the minute, and then, without warning, he bowed low and broke into a friendly smile. “Of course not, Divinity, I’m merely surprised that you find my stock worthy of such honour.” He turned, and led the girl away, quick as that they were lost in the throngs. Amenhotep stared after him, a little suspiciously. Sometimes that one acted as if his slaves were of his own blood. He shrugged, high priest or no, if he’d held that gaze a moment longer, he’d have put the man’s eyes out.
Narmer leaned in. “And you wanted to take his wife.”
Pharaoh’s laugh was long and hard, he fisted his ghaffir in the side before burying his muzzle in another goblet. No Narmer, it’s not his wife I mean to take. He downed it and beckoned for more of the same. He slanted his head back in Tiye’s direction, his vision was a little blurry now and he had to squint to see her. It’s playing with me, giving me shy, flirty eyes when it thinks the boy is not looking. I should just take it now and to hell with the consequences.
He flung the empty goblet to the ground suddenly remembering his question to Narmer. “No, no, damn you! You know the one I mean, the shepherd’s whore the one that came at me with this!” He drew his battle-won blade and waved it about proudly. “Remember? I told you, she kept saying a name...” There was a clatter of plates and crockery. He turned his head in annoyance. The red slut’s scrawny little bodyslave was hurriedly tidying up the mess she’d made. He slouched back to Narmer, deciding to let the interruption pass. Kind and benevolent, that’s how they’ll remember me, aye, Amenhotep the kind … Amenhotep the benevolent.
His ghaffir shrugged, “Shari? Chiri? Something along them lines, I remember not.”
“Ah yes that’s it! By Thoth, she knew how to please a man that one.” His eyes returned to Tiye as he said it. She was no longer looking at him. Doubtless she was overcome with desire and could barely contain herself.
He grinned at Narmer. “What was it you said of that name again?”
His ghaffir obligingly turned to the court and announced his line with aplomb. “Mayhap the lady thought it only fitting to introduce herself!” Pharaoh oft asked the same question when he was in his cups.
Amenhotep laughed until a little spittle dribbled down his chin, laughed as he had laughed all the way through Aruna when Narmer had first broached the jest. He rose unsteadily from his throne and grunted at the man. “Send wine to my room and have … aye, have the daughter of Thauney bring it.” He wobbled a little, his eyes not leaving Tiye. “And while you’re at it tell the slut to dye her hair with red ocher.”
Shiri watched the Godking depart, his attendants and guards in tow. The very sight of him made her feel sick. Every time he opened his mouth she had to swallow back bile. She could hear her mother’s screams, smell the smoke, taste the blood. The man really was a monster, a beast that raped women and laughed of it, a beast that refused to stop staring at Tiye, a monster who forced Amaris to … someone grabbed her arm. She spun. Josef met her eyes. He looked as pale and nervous as she’d ever seen him. “Make Tiye ready, you’re both leaving with me on the morrow.” He paused, his fingers so tight about her arm that she almost cried out. “You were right, Shiri. I should never have allowed this.”
VIII
Amenophis leaned back in his wormwood couch, a bowl of green olives in hand. His private chambers were as plush as anything in Heliopolis. Shiri’s own chamber was a poor thing in comparison but still ten times nicer than a slave had any right to expect, her mistress had seen to that. The Prince shook his head. “You would make me the laughing stock of all Thebes.”
Josef glanced at Shiri. Tiye was bathing in the Water Gardens beside the river and had insisted on taking Amaris with her, she’d refused to leave the slave’s side since the
previous night. “Amenhotep dwells in the same palace as you,” Josef said, “Everybody saw the way he was looking at her last night, you know what he wants, better that you take her away from him before…”
“I’ll not have it said that Amenophis fled Thebes for fear he could not keep his wife from his grandfather’s bed.”
“Amenhotep is … is dangerous, you don’t know what he is capable of … in Megiddo he…” The Habiru coughed at that and he paused.
Amenophis noticed the priest glance towards the slave again. She seemed to give him some hidden signal and if the Prince didn’t know better he’d have sworn the high priest nodded almost in diffidence. The Prince shrugged. “Oh, the old goat is harmless.”
“Harmless is it?” The priest sounded as if he was talking to a feeble minded child. “And what pray, would you do if he demanded you give her over?”
Amenophis smiled. “He already did.”
Josef’s jaw dropped. “He what?”
“He already did,” Amenophis repeated. “He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘give her to me or it will go ill for you.’” He popped an olive into his mouth smiling at the expression on the priest’s face. He thinks me a boy.
“And … and what did you say?”
The Prince seemed to be enjoying the priest’s discomfort. He glanced at Tiye’s bodyslave. She’d gone white as a ghost, they all underestimate me. “He offered me everything from a knife in the belly to the Water Palace of Elephantine,” he said with practiced nonchalance.
The priest looked fit to explode. He exchanged looks with the slave for a third time and the Prince could see him clenching his fists as if he were about to leap at him and pummel him to a bloody pulp. Slowly Tiye’s father seemed to force his lips to form words, “What did you do?”
Amenophis ran a hand through his hair. “What did I do? Why I laughed in the old farts face and told him I’d sooner give him a kick up the arse. That did for our ‘hero of Megiddo’ and no mistake. He slunk away with his tail between his legs and spent the rest of the night drinking himself into a jealous stupor. You saw that much at least.”
Josef stepped closer. The first lord of the Two Lands cowed by a boy barely old enough to wear a beard? “You think me a fool? What really happened?”
Amenophis rose. “I mislike your tone.”
“You’ll mislike it all the more if you don’t tell me the truth of this,” He stepped closer still.
Amenophis looked about him, suddenly regretting dismissing his ghaffir. “You … you doubt my word? Ask Tiye if you must then. Shall I send for her? She’ll tell the same tale.” He took a breath and seemed to regain his composure. He’ll not lay hands on me, he knows the cost. “Fear not, Yuya, my grandfather can diddle all the Habiru girls and ladies of court he wants, but he won’t dare touch Tiye. He knows I’ll come into the crown when he, and my father, walk the dark path and it’s a small matter for one Pharaoh to erase another from the histories. I need only give the word and his mummy will be smashed and defiled, his very bones ground into dust, his soul condemned to Apeth.” He grinned at the high priest, “He knows that well enough; he’s done as much and more to the great Queen Hatshepsut … the Slut Queen as he likes to call her.” The boy twisted his mouth unpleasantly.
Yuya nodded ever so slightly. There was clearly no love between Amenophis and the Godking. That was for the good, “And what of your father? You would abandon him? He grows weaker and more confused by the day. He needs someone he can trust by his side, now more than ever.” It was a low blow, but he was desperate. He saw a crack in the Prince’s armour and twisted the knife further. “You’ll have more power and responsibility in Memphis than Thebes. Here Amenhotep and his creature Papis control all; there Amenophis will be Co-Regent in all but name.
Amenophis sighed. “Oh very well then, have it your way. Tiye and I will travel to Memphis after the feast of Opet. But only so my father will have his heir by his side, not for any fear of my grandfather, nor to try and clutch more power than is yet my due.”
“The feast of Opet is near six moons hence. I’d prefer you come now.”
“You can prefer it all you want, but it won’t make it happen.”
“Perhaps then, Tiye could come by herself and prepare the Memphite court for your arrival?”
“You would see me parted from my bride not one day after our wedding?” He laughed. “You are bold, Yuya, I give you that.”
Josef gave Shiri a despairing look, he bowed rather shallowly. “I mean no offence, Your Grace, I merely wish for…”
Amenophis waved his hand. “I grow weary of your bleating. My father may be enraptured by your counsels but I am not.” He turned from the priest. “I have said my piece and will hear no more on this. Let us part on good terms, Yuya.” He called for his new ghaffir who entered quickly and noisily. “Smenkaure please assist Lord Yuya find his way to the Water Gardens, he means to say goodbye to his daughter.” He grinned conspiratorially. “But be sure you stop short before the Lotus Wall. I’ll not have you sneaking peaks at my wife as she bathes.”
His ghaffir smiled at that and beckoned Yuya forward. The high priest raised a hand. “I can find my own way.” He brushed past Smenkaure who made it his business to bump shoulders with him. “Best look where you’re going, priest,” the ghaffir said. “You wouldn’t want to walk into my sword … Old Montu has a thirst today.”
“And you wouldn’t want to get in my way,” Josef retorted as he shoved the man aside and left in a whirl of cloak, his slave hurrying quickly after him.
Amenophis returned to his couch, and offered his ghaffir the olive bowl. The Companion shook his head, and remained where he was silent, hard, strong. The Prince found something about the man unsettling, but his father had not been wrong about his skill with a blade. In the post wedding tourneys Smenkaure had downed all comers to be named as champion, though Pharaoh’s own man had chosen to yield the final rather than cross swords with his brother. Amenophis found himself needing to say something to break the silence. “That one’s tongue will get him killed yet.”
“Aye,” Smenkaure said. “He needs to bow more and speak less.”
Shiri followed Josef through the marbled halls and gilded courts of the White Palace and out into the gardens beyond. It was like jumping into a lake. The air was thick with moisture, so thick that she could almost open her mouth and drink it. The mist was so dense she could only see a few steps ahead. It seemed to stick to her skin forming hundreds of tiny droplets, and in no time at all she realised her clothes were soaking.
The river had more than quadrupled in size over night and was still rising. The flood had come, just as the Ibis had promised. To the south, the river was a raging torrent as it crashed through the great cataracts of Abu Simbel and Elephantine. Even from the highest towers of the White Palace, the temples of Karnack, visible on most days, were completely obscured by the great clouds of opaque fog that covered the whole southern horizon. It was as if the river was trying to conquer the very sky. The foaming waters were so loud and violent about distant Elephantine, that some claimed they could be heard as a faint rumbling, echoing through the fog all the way to Thebes itself. Somewhere above them a hundred thousand birds were singing, and far out across the brown surging waters she could hear the splashing of great water cows at play.
But in the Water Gardens of the White Palace all was calm serenity as the flood waters climbed slowly higher, filling an endless myriad of canals and channels, frothing and bubbling gently into great pools and lakes in small mini waterfalls. Talk from the measuring wells of Elephantine suggested it would be the biggest flood in ten years or more, the priests of the Temple of Satis went so far as claiming it would be the greatest in twenty, small wonder that Tiye’s name was on every tongue. Only when they were alone and hidden in the mists did Shiri speak. “The feast of Opet is…”
“Six moons from now, aye.” He sounded gruff and angry, “Akil and Jafar will be staying here with orders to protect her at all
costs.”
Shiri made a face. “Those two will not defy Pharaoh no matter what your orders.”
Josef said nothing.
“If Amenhotep tries to…”
“She has Amenophis. He won’t leave her side. It’s just six moons and once you get to Memphis everything will be fine.”
“Amenophis is...”
“A prince of Egypt – her husband,” he quickened his pace.
“… A boy,” she said. “Just a boy, and boys can be tricked, boys can be fooled, boys can be frightened and bullied into doing what they are told.”
“She has Amenophis,” he repeated as if the statement carried more weight than before. “He will protect her.”
“No,” she said quietly. “she has me.”
He stopped. There was something strange about the way she’d said that. “You’re not to do anything stupid, Shiri.”
She shrugged. “I never claimed to be the smartest.”
He took her a little too roughly by the arm. “No matter what he does, you’re not even to meet his eye. You’re not to answer back, nor even to speak unless he speaks to you first, which he won’t. If he does try to come for her, you’re not to do anything other than bow your head. You got that? Then when he is out of sight you will run to Amenophis and tell him what’s happening. You will do no more than that. Pharaoh will not think twice about taking your head if you play it any other way.”
“I won’t let him hurt her,” I’ll not run away again. I’ll not let him do to my daughter what he did to my mother.
He stared at her and his eyes grew hard, she’s going to get herself killed. He sighed, “I’ve changed my mind, Shiri. You’re coming back to Heliopolis with me. Amaris can be Tiye’s bodyslave in your stead.”
She wrenched her arm from his. “I told you I want to stay with Tiye.” Her face twisted in anger.
