Going Forth By Day

by Mary R Woldering

Wserkaf stood with his arms folded across his slim-muscled, mid-brown chest. Patiently, he waited at the entrance for a few more minutes. When the Countesses returned from the plaza, whispering and laughing about some unseen but somewhat naughty thing that had happened, the inspector nodded that it was time for them to come out and to present themselves.

  “Honor His Majesty, then, by coming to your knees, eyes turned down, and remain so until he speaks to you and gives you permission to rise,” Wserkaf paused, then added: “don’t be afraid. Our Father is feeling kindly tonight. Much so,” Wserkaf sighed, a little nervous and overwrought from his draining day as he lined the three women up: Ariennu was placed first, then Deka, and last Naibe.

  Nothing of the women’s humble background remained. They moved elegantly, heads held high as if they were conquered but proud god-wives. As they entered, they went to their knees, bent at the waist, and remained with their heads down until the inspector motioned that the king had gestured for them to rise.

  Ariennu felt a little giddy from the day, the wine, and the incense, but focused her attention on the two men who sat in her line of sight. The king, or a man she assumed was king because of his full-striped nemes, sat to one side, relaxed, in an ebony and gold wooden chair facing the Great One Hordjedtef. The latter sat on his raised dark stone chair. This arrangement struck Ari as extremely odd and casual, because the king’s head was lower than the high priest’s head. Another older man garbed in some kind of official regalia moved in a little closer to whisper a few words to the king, then beckoned to each woman to rise, walk, turn, stretch, and to make some demonstration of her sturdiness and good health.

  Displaying us like cattle, Ari thought, leveling a cold but emotionless stare at Hordjedtef. And I see you acting the part of the king, sitting high like that! Ariennu hesitantly turned her palms upward to show her hands to the three men.

  “What is your name, woman?” the king asked as he beckoned Ariennu to come a little closer.

  When she moved toward him, she noticed his breath had a sick honey-ish odor, indicating that all of the rumors about this king being a drunk were true. She knew by the scent that he had been drinking quite a bit tonight and that he often drank to excess when something had troubled him during the day. Long ago, she herself had given off that same odor for the same reason. The cunning thing, she sensed, was that this king seldom appeared drunk. That she had a past in common with this king’s present state, gave her an idea.

  “I am Ariennu, born in the Kingdom of Tyre, Your Majesty.” She lowered her eyes. The hurt and quiet rage of Marai’s death crept over her once again. She didn’t want a look to shine through her expression. This King signed off on Marai’s death. I could work him and end him easily, through what he drinks.

  The vizier, or the man Ari assumed might be the vizier because he was announcing them and now overseeing their behavior, situated his smallish but plump and muscular self in front of the bowing women.

  “ArreNu of Tyre,” the elderly “vizier” repeated. “We understand you have learned something of women’s mysteries. You have been selling spices and remedies for certain illnesses. You have also assisted in births. You are a priestess of Bes?”

  Ari considered her response as she noticed yet another man in the plaza. This one was a scribe seated by the king to take note of everything he said.

  “No, I am not trained as a priestess,” Ariennu shied back a little but kept her hands extended. “See my hands, Your Majesty, if I may be trusted to touch.” The woman was careful to keep her voice very humble and quiet, even though she wanted to shout every vulgar curse at the entire assembly in the room.

  The Great One tensed despite Ariennu’s calm manner, objecting to her possible treachery.

  Look, you old sucking hound, I’m not stupid or crazy. There’s no foolishness or trick in my touch tonight, she shot a thought to him but kept her expression meek and kindly, I know my future in this cursed place is at stake!

  “You may touch me,” a different man’s voice sounded from behind her right shoulder.

  Ariennu had been anxious about her ability to stay out of trouble long enough to get into some kind of position where the eyes of the high priest and his simpering protégé would no longer be part of her life. She hadn’t noticed the owner of that particular voice when she and the other women had come in. She turned to see a man who was no youth, but was younger than the inspector priest. He stepped into the receiving area rather casually, showing a quick but informal reverence to the King which seemed more out of habit than respect. This man was shorter than the other men in the plaza; she was even taller than he was. His face was round, but he was thickly boned and powerfully muscular under his plumpish exterior. Ariennu turned slightly and bowed very low, but didn’t dare to turn fully away from the king. Her instinct told her the man was some sort of royalty, so she once again only moved when the new man beckoned for her to rise and move behind him. As she took her position behind his back she noticed his half striped nemes. After a year in Kemet, she knew the half-stripe meant this man was a prince of the king’s blood. With hope that she would not cause trouble, Ariennu began to work on the prince’s shoulders.

  Hmmm. He has a nice, manly feel to him. She began to hum gently and sway side to side, giggling knowingly as she played her fingers lightly on his thickly corded neck. It was seduction, not healing. Everyone in the plaza could see it. The elder priest’s face even softened, puzzled that this woman, who had been the most unruly of the three women when they first arrived, would attempt erotic touch in front of the entire assembly. Before this craft could continue for too long, the prince reached up to Ariennu’s hand and stopped it. His face beamed with happy satisfaction over her demonstration.

  “Come to me, gentle woman with hair of blood and fire,” his head turned to look back over his left shoulder at her hand and his black eyes softened as they looked up into hers. “Come sit with me by the wall for a while. Come to know me. Your look pleases me,” he patted her hand.

  Oh. Fast, the elder woman smirked a little, amused the man had come straight to the point of the evening.

  “I am grateful, Your Highness,” she whispered, quite puzzled that this man had chosen her so quickly and without even looking at Deka or Naibe. It seemed almost as if he had been told to choose her. Putting that observation aside for the time being, Ariennu bowed again to the king and sat on her heels while this “prince” who had chosen her rose and went to speak with him. The two men exchanged whispers, fondness, an embrace, and then the king patted the man’s shoulder to congratulate his choice. Hmmm… Ariennu thought, that is the Crown Prince. He even looks a little bit like the king. Not bad old girl, not bad. I know he has a beloved one at home though, so I don’t know what he wants me for. I’m not a cleaning woman and he doesn’t look like he needs a healer. She felt the prince extend his beckoning hand and she let him lead her to a stone bench by the wall enclosure. Torchlight wasn’t so plentiful there.

  From her place on the stone bench she saw this prince beside her, the Great One, the inspector, the king, the musicians, the scribe, and the elder vizier to the king. The king seemed either drunk, or sleepy, or bored. As she surveyed the plaza, Ariennu wondered if she had been mistaken in understanding that some grandson of the old priest was supposed to attend this selection process. Probably wasn’t man enough, the woman thought.

  For a moment, Ariennu visualized a new youth of perhaps fourteen or fifteen years. Maybe the old man wants me to teach the boy pleasuring. That would be interesting, she mused. No, a General of the Army in command of a division would be a grown man and likely have a wife or two. That meant, wherever she went, she would have to be humble enough to submit to the wife or wives in addition to obeying the man. For her, if would not be easy. Maybe this prince just wanted to have the first choice and the old man’s grandson stepped out at just the right time.

  The prince had now returned from getting his cup from his chair. He sat facing her.

  “They
call you…?” he began.

  “I am Ariennu, Your Highness, Ari if it is your wish,” she laughed and bowed her head toward his in a little tease. “I promise you, your choice will not be regretted tonight,” the woman said as the prince wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The prince’s signal delighted her at once, but at the same moment and for perhaps the only time in her life, she hesitated.

  Marai’s voice sounded in the elder woman’s heart as surely as she used to hear it in her thoughts and as surely as she heard the voices of the Children of Stone.

  I have to make him believe he’s won.

  I will need you to be open to me, Wse,

  in case I need help.

  Go tell my wives what’s happened.

  Tell them to be ready to leave Ineb Hedj at a moment’s notice,

  before the old bastard can get his claws in them

  Ariennu trembled a little at what she heard. Maybe they have become one… he and the Children, she thought. Maybe the Children and now Marai are all like ancestors. Now they are spirits and he joins them to whisper to my heart, her hands wandered inquisitively over the toned lighter brown chest of the prince as she tried to make sense of the words she had just heard Marai speak. Is this his farewell to me, then? Is he speaking to someone? Who is Wse? Is there a friend on this side of the river I need to find? Am I wrong to go about my life and take on whatever comes next? Am I to go with this prince? Damn it! He knows my heart and knows I do what I want, even if I will never get over losing him and know it so much now. Ariennu knew she might seduce this prince and that she could keep him interested in her, as long as it was of benefit to them both, but the pain of being without Marai for the rest of her life still nagged her. He had given her freedom. He never complained if she dallied or flirted with other men. He even teased her about it before they became intimate just as much as she had teased him for waiting so long to bed her. It was all part of what made her love him. Hearing his voice at this moment gave her pause.

  Death. That was it then. Laugh at me and tease me if you know I love you best, but death tears us apart forever. Ariennu didn’t realize she had bowed her head in thought until the prince caught her chin again and raised her face so that she looked into his dark but sympathetic eyes. She blinked, and then stared at the double-banded coronet clasping his nemes to his head again.

  “You have had tragedy come to you and your sisters today, I’m told,” he brought her chin forward and then kissed her mouth gently in an almost father-daughter way. “If I trouble you, it’s not my intent,” he added. It was as if he reflected on her situation and the enormity of what lay ahead of her as keenly as she felt it.

  Intent? Ariennu smirked inwardly, no mistake what this one wants. Hired as a healer, but what illness is he wanting cured? Crown Prince, eh? Never had one of those, she thought as she returned the kiss. It pained her heart again. This man wasn’t Marai, and this wasn’t love. It could never hope to be more than work.

  Wise Mama Ari, that you are and always were

  Teach wisdom.

  Be not hard or vengeful

  Learn and never forget…

  Remember how to live!

  Ariennu, the wild girl of Tyre’s squalor-filled fisher’s hovels that lay outside the city of the king, trembled and fought back the tears. She knew she heard the sound of Marai’s voice filtered through the whispers of the Children of Stone. All of the sweet and gentle memories of her days and nights with him played again: the day he found the three of them after he killed the thieves who harbored them; the way she had been so close to death; the struggle to the mysterious vessel in the wilderness where they all slept and had become renewed and beautiful; her mocking and teasing him because he would not be her lover at first; and finally the beautiful afternoon when he not only took her up on the offer, but also traded hearts and souls with her too. He was gone now and it was an unbearable loss.

  The prince sensed her disquiet at once. “I’m sorry, I’ve rushed you,” he held her out from his chest at arm’s length for a moment to check her expression.

  “No, Your Highness,” she lied. “It’s just the light of your goodness to my wretched state. My poor heart…” she drew him close again, burying her head on his arm.

  “Lady ArreNu. I am Shepseskaf, Grand General of the Lower land, Chosen Bodily Son of the Most High… It’s my honor to be chosen to help you find some joy once more. Know you will be at peace and no one in my house will pursue you if that is your wish,” he kissed her brow and nuzzled her face in affection.

  CHAPTER 6: A MYSTERIOUS GRANDSON

  Deka cast her eyes down, feigning humility as she moved into the open plaza. Even when the man wearing the king’s nemes gestured his permission for her and the other women to look up, she glanced up only briefly, then lowered her gaze again. She sat on her heels and tried not to stare at the king, the other men, or Ariennu and Naibe. Instead, Deka closed her eyes and began to feel herself “flying away” far to the south over the grassland and into the tawny, rocky hills where the waters of the great river boiled over huge elephant-shaped stones. As she flew further south, she hovered above the bent ebon backs of those who toiled in the fields and sang the same song in the grass that had always burst from her lips in her own times of trial.

  A man stood in the distance, the memory of him inside her thoughts. His gold clad arms were crossed majestically over his wide, ruddy chest.

  Is it Marai’s ghost? Deka asked herself.

  The man in her vision was about the same height and size as Marai, but his skin, though brown, glowed deep red. It matched his bright copper hair. His hand was outstretched for her, as if he wanted her to come to him, but a sudden shaft of light dropped down about him. It was just like the one that had surrounded her on the vessel of the Children of Stone when the mysterious entities there had cleaned the surface of her skin, long ago.

  The red man who held out his hand for her in that vision had been her king once, but he had been taken away to another land, when he ascended on that column of light. When she first saw Marai all those years ago, she had called him Man-Sun and when she received her beauty again, she was certain it had been Man-Sun Marai’s doing. She remembered, for a moment, the special way of sharing love she had wanted to show him, but Marai had shunned her. Deka knew Marai had forgotten who she was and who he had been. All she knew was that he was her Man-Sun, the bringer of red things, blood, life and fire and that he had returned to her in another form. He may have thought he was Marai, and that he was a shepherd, but he was not.

  Saddened, she had resolved to have no man until Marai either wakened to the truth hidden inside his heart, or until the true Man-Sun returned to claim her. Now, she resolved to make her way to the southern lands alone because these men said he was gone. Perhaps he was not dead. Perhaps he was hidden once again in Ta-Seti, in his secret cave beneath his crystalline dome waiting to take her with him. Tonight, when she flew, she felt a voice calling out her old names:

  Ha-go-re! Akh-go-re Nejter Deka Nefer Sekht the voice called in her thoughts among so many other names. She heard the call at once in a young voice, a man’s voice, and the voice of an elder. In response, she heard laughter that roared like the wind and rolled like the water. Those images faded suddenly as reality returned. With its return came her decision to go politely with whatever man chose her tonight. She would put aside her reserve and her pride, because Marai no longer existed in the form that had gently nurtured her for over a year. She would be of pleasure to whatever man chose her as she had done in the days before Marai had plucked her from the wilderness. She wouldn’t resist or complain. She would do what they wanted. The men assembled here would pay for their sins against her. She would make them pay, but that vengeance would come later after she had learned the quiet places in their hearts. If planned well…

  When Deka saw Ariennu had been quickly chosen by the crown prince, her thoughts flew to Marai once more. She thought of the way she had resisted him because to l
ove him when she wasn’t entirely sure of who he was would have changed everything about her. Ariennu just didn’t understand, and Naibe had been so enamored of the man that she scarcely thought of anything else but his love. What if I and Marai, my Man-Sun, had loved? Deka pondered, feeling almost winsome at the thought. He’s gone from his life now, just like before. Only there’s less of me to remember him or the man big as the sky who loved me in the season when the storms came.

  No, she whispered again to herself, he showed me the greatest love on Earth by not making any demands of my flesh. He told me again and again that he would not take me by force; as so many had done before. He would wait for me to give myself to him. In his honor, I will do the same. I will not give my heart, unless I am truly loved. I must never give all of myself, body and soul, to another until that day when he returns through death to claim me. She wanted to grieve for his loss, but knew it was best to put all of this kind of thinking away. She would welcome the man who chose her tonight.

  Out of the corner of one eye Deka saw Ari in the arms of Crown Prince Shepseskaf. They were seated on a stone bench in the semi dark by the plaza wall, enjoying “bird-kisses”, nuzzles, and then even deeper kisses.

  She railed at me for setting myself apart from him, but now look what she does! Another claims her as his prize! What now? Will he use her and then set her aside after a night or two, or will it be more days they are together? Will I ever see either of you again, once you go away with others? The woman of Ta-Seti knew Ariennu had been the coldest of them in the old days. Then, in the light of Marai’s love, she had become as loyal as a high priestess is to a god. Now, with all hope of his survival gone, she grew hard and cold again. Were the henna-haired woman’s feelings themselves illusion, Deka wondered. How could she move between her two selves, the hot and the cold, so easily?

  We’ve been thrown together for so many years, like scrap thrown out into the same heap. We were changed together and we chose to be with Marai in our gratitude, but now he’s gone. Now we’re changing again, she reflected. Maybe it’s best for us to look away now; to look into another pair of eyes, and then fly, fly away! Deka sighed. She accepted her coming fate and yet cursed the purity of her love for Marai, who had asked for nothing from her in return.