Going Forth By Day

by Mary R Woldering

  Ariennu frowned, feeling an odd sensation of foreboding in her belly and upper back. Happy? Merry? No one like that kills themselves. And that man was sent away afterwards? Did he kill her? she wondered. Nah. No one kills a princess and lives to come back in any kind of favor. I wonder, though. Maybe it’s a secret to keep for now, but maybe one I get to discover.

  Ariennu had never heard the story of this princess spoken in the palace. Naibe had said something about feeling the spirit of a goddess whose presence made the king sad when she first arrived, but Ari hadn’t thought much about it until now.

  “We’re not supposed to talk about it, at all,” Naa urged, “and do never ask Majesty about it. It really upsets him so,” she emphasized, suddenly worried the tale would be spread and she would be named as the source.

  “Hmmm… well, I could be persuaded to keep a secret like that. But, why should I after the way most of you treat us?” Ariennu turned to go back to the sleeping rooms, but as she did she heard the girl grumble in frustration.

  “Come with me, then,” Naa caught up with the elder woman and led her by the hand.

  Well, something bad happened, Ariennu sensed, following the girl to see what she would offer for her silence. Damn me. I can live in a royal palace, pet the king, and still be a thief! I should make these deals more often.

  “Everyone I talk to says Majesty changed,” Naa explained. “He buried her in a beautiful wooden casket in the shape of the divine cow, and had it covered with gold. Every year he marks the feasts and anniversaries with hundreds of garlands of flowers in her temple.” She took Ariennu to her bed and handed her the bronze mirror.

  Ari decided she wasn’t going to ask the king anything and she would warn Naibe not to ask either, but this made the contract sweeter. It was a good mirror. Although Naa had been nice to Naibe and her recently, it was quite possible she was setting a fine trap at someone’s request. All of the conversation might have been a fiction fed to them so they would ask forbidden questions and cause the king to want to banish them. The mirror, if the girl wanted it back, would keep her honest.

  “So he’s changed?” Ari insisted on continuing. “How so?”

  “This party. In times past he would never have hosted the party for his Highness here. He has always been sad when they are together. He thinks of his daughter when he sees him,” the young woman looked around fearfully. “Now, no more, please,” she begged pointedly.

  Ariennu dimly remembered the king the night she went with Prince Shepseskaf. He’d been almost too drunk to sit upright. His back had been turned ever so slightly away from the young general as though he didn’t want to look directly at him. It was as if everything the girl had said was right. He didn’t enjoy the man’s company. This party represented a drastic change because the king had invited him to have his party at the palace and apparently had even looked forward to the celebration.

  “A word, Lady ArreNu.” Ariennu was distracted from remembering her afternoon conversations by the man’s elderly warble. He was calling into the entrance of the women’s apartments from the tunnel that led to the adjacent sunlit courtyard.

  Ah, Count Prince Hordjedtef again. The man is relentless! she grumbled to herself. Prince Hordjedtef being here this early annoyed her. Soon, the women’s rooms would be bustling with visiting female guests and their servants. There would be no rest or privacy once that began. Visiting women always came in to the women’s common to refresh themselves and exchange gossip before they joined the other guests in the main plaza.

  For a moment, she pretended she didn’t hear the Great One call her name. There were so many other things she preferred to think about. She contemplated the man’s grandson, remembering a silent but very delicious and tempting thought-statement he sent to her as he left with Deka that there would still be plenty of him left for her.

  Since that night three weeks earlier, neither she nor Naibe had sensed anything from their former sister. Deka, Ariennu decided, would have to answer for her silence. She wasn’t dead, sick, or injured because Ari knew her Child Stone would certainly have informed them of that. Only stillness and serene peace returned when either she or Naibe spoke Deka’s name into the universe. There was no reason for the silence other than the Ta-Seti woman’s thirst and greed over the prize she had won.

  It was time to provoke a response. Ari decided she would tease the Ta-Seti woman tonight the way they used to torment each other in the camp with N’ahab-Atall. She would openly compete with her for the prince. His roving eye and complete faithlessness was legendary from what she had heard of him. For that, she needed to look flawless and stunning enough to attract him and fine enough to irritate her old companion into taking a stand.

  Ah, but everyone loves a good cat fight! she thought, remembering the fights they used to enjoy in the wilderness camp. Like old times. Her beautiful man might even…

  The old man’s voice sounded again, irritated. “Lady ArreNu! Do you hear me speak?!”

  This time, she tensed at the sharpness of his voice, let out a miserable sigh, and turned her head to the distant entryway where the old man stood.

  Men aren’t supposed to come back here, she thought to herself. In just these few days of living here, however, Ari had learned that the Great One went wherever he wanted, and would probably follow a woman into the privy outside the large sleeping room unless specifically asked not to do so.

  “What do you want?” she snapped. She knew Prince Hordjedtef had likely come to complain again about the healing procedures she and Naibe had used on the king. It didn’t seem to matter to him that King Menkaure had steadily improved since she arrived, except for one setback, or that he had continued to rally and gain strength when Naibe joined her at the palace. It only seemed to matter to the Great One that the king had dispensed with any sort of formality toward herself and Naibe. That kind of casual behavior toward strangers was unheard of. The old man constantly warned the king of his increasing familiarity, claiming he was living out some “ill-fated prophecy” rather than continuing to defy it.

  “Only women of our own blood or family must enjoy such easy treatment,” the elder had warned the king. “These ka’t of a scoundrel have settled in far too quickly. The tall one should have been thrashed for her impudence in bringing the younger one to you while you suffered in your head and heart. Instead, you welcome them?”

  King Menkaure was indeed taken with both herself and Naibe. Ariennu knew that. He found it so easy to relax in their presence that, once again, whispers about heka and sorcery were heard in the halls. Now that Naibe was here, the king had even begun going among his people, outside the walled palace. His subjects saw him actively supervising the construction of his Eternal House, and admiring the progress that had taken place since the flood had begun to recede. He made offerings with the priests at the temples where his other wives, son, and daughter were eternally honored. All of this new energy and activity left the vizier and physicians perplexed. King Menkaure now dismissed high ranking officials in favor of an afternoon or early evening walk. Instead of being under heavy guard as he went about, he walked arm in arm with his ladies. Only two of guards accompanied them. It had been nothing short of a scandal.

  Hordjedtef felt his influence had been threatened. Even the other concubines protested. They claimed they heard the women chanting over the king in a mysterious voice. That chanting was their native Kinacht tongue used when they spoke privately with Menkaure who was, himself, master of several languages.

  Ariennu thought the elder priest did so little to diffuse the growing rumor of their spell-casting, that he had likely started most of the gossip. She heard him say more than once that the women were indeed enchantresses, and ought to be carefully watched.

  Just the previous night the king enjoyed a full night of peaceful sleep without his usual spiced wine. He officially claimed he was no longer worried about outwitting the gods by staying awake. He proclaimed that if the gods were truly wise, they would understand wh
at he had been doing for the past six years and should have already come to take him. He was ready to battle them for his life if he needed to. That was the real reason he had invited Prince Hordjedtef’s grandson to celebrate his send-away at the palace, Ariennu realized. He felt safe from the curse. The women had brought about a miraculous cure in just two weeks.

  Outside the women’s quarters, the old man beckoned at Ariennu from a distance. When she acknowledged him, a silly smirk filled his ancient face. “Oh I do apologize, Lady ArreNu, but I need you to come with me for a moment,” he motioned for her to follow him to the main courtyard by the large reflection pool. She knew he had more in his thoughts than the enjoyment of the tranquil blue sesen blossoms floating there.

  Ariennu put down the mirror, smoothed her hair, and quickly tied a ribbon around it before she followed the high priest. As she trailed him, she absent-mindedly looked around the pool for Naibe-Ellit. She spied the little one at the pool, laughing and singing a child’s song. She was engaged in a hand clap game with a group of little serving girls, much like a little girl herself.

  The priest indicated the elder woman should sit beside him. When they had seated themselves, the able-bodied groom who had followed him placed a wooden chest near the old man’s seat cushion. He dismissed the man, then reached to tug the chest closer to them.

  Ariennu’s eyes narrowed even further. If the groom had come, it meant Great One was not here on any chance visit. He had planned to speak to her.

  “I trust you are truly enjoying your time and your new tasks here?” he began.

  “I think His Majesty is feeling better, yes. You see his color is good now,” she answered, knowing it had been her skill in healing touch, equal to that of his physicians, that was stimulating his interest in healthy food and proper rest.

  “Perhaps this is true, but do not confuse this temporary rally as his complete cure,” Hordjedtef’s lips pursed a little. “His Majesty is strong as the bull of his name, Lord Kha-ket denotes, and his will to appear mighty is even more so. Only those truly close to him understand the weight on him that is at the root of his suffering,” he remarked. For instance, a good and mighty warrior for a son; one who inspires growth and fertility in his land.

  Ari knew she heard the old man’s thoughts for a moment and felt an unexplained ire coil in her guts. She understood now that this evening’s party was about presenting the infamous grandson in a favorable light once again.

  You manipulating bastard. Everything about this old man’s motive was suddenly clear to her.

  Though ancient, the high priest was still very much the power behind the golden throne. He had been an invincible force for many kings before he had attached himself to the ailing monarch Ari currently tended. People, to him, were nothing more than senet pieces to be moved around life’s playing board. Adequately worked, they would always be placed in situations that would bring honor and praise to no one but himself. She now understood this was why he had killed Marai before the Children of Stone had brought her, Naibe, and Deka to full strength. Once Marai had been truly opened, Hordjedtef would have known that he never could have controlled the sojourner in the same way as he had controlled all of the kings.

  If you think you can control me, old man, you’ve made a mistake, Ari’s thoughts whispered. She made no attempt to hide that portion of her thoughts. Marai never controlled her. In fact, he celebrated her playfulness. It was his way, and it was the third thing that she missed the most, next to the warmth of his love and the openness of his heart. The difference between the two men was intolerable to her.

  I see you, her thoughts rang. At that moment she didn’t really care if he was reading them. Just say something else, anything else. I will slap you into some worse regret of me. “Weight? You mean the wait on Our Majesty, as in ‘wait on him to die’,” she whispered under her breath. “Murdering bastard,” she inspected her nails, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “You had something to tell me, Your Highness? If not, I would rather visit a stinking privy than sit with you this morning!” She was about to leap from the pillow cushion by the pool and storm back to the privacy of her own room.

  Hordjedtef’s eyes transformed into reddened, bird-like slits. “Still a vile little temper and a wicked tongue?” he reached for the chest, “and still blaming me for your former consort’s comeuppance, I see. You do know it was I who had Our Majesty’s ear about bringing you and your sisters’ aid. It was I who asked that he not cast you three into the alley, as your manners alone to me say he should have decreed.” He lifted the lid of the box slowly. “I understand the Ta-Seti woman who came with you has truly charmed our young Prince Maatkare Raemkai, and only unfortunate situations have prevented the young Kina-Ahna dancer the status she deserves. And look at yourself; almost as respected as any of our wise women. Why do you complain against me so?” he asked, a sing-song but petulant tone in his voice.

  Ariennu bowed her head, almost ashamed. The old man was right. She didn’t need to complain quite so bitterly against a life that had proceeded very well for now. If the king recovered and totally defeated the prophecy he had received at Buto six years ago, perhaps she and Naibe might become more to him than gentle healers. For most women, especially former commoners, a life as part of a royal family like this was a dream come true.

  When she thought of Marai, however, and saw him in her various memories of their journey together, everything she knew now was still too painful. He filled her thoughts far too often. Her first image of him as she groveled in the wadi hut long ago haunted her dreams so strongly that she woke at night weeping, even though she had vowed to be hard enough never to cry over him. The gentle image of the way he held her the day she sought to conquer him, and the way he encouraged her heart to open was still too much to bear now that all of it was gone. On so many nights she saw him. He would be so real in her dreams that she almost felt he was still alive. Every instinct in her heart told her he was alive, but somehow trapped and unable to move or come home.

  No! That image shouted and screamed her name. It’s not over. She knew her life with him had so much more story that needed to be written before the stars all over the world fell from the sky.

  The priest cleared his throat, severing Ari from her thoughts of Marai. The carved box that housed the Children of Stone was in his hands.

  “Oh you damned, you…” Ariennu hissed. She wanted to seize the box from him, even if the Children scattered everywhere. Instead, she looked away from him, but the familiar purr of the stones in the box beckoned her. Slowly, she turned her head again. “I see. You want me to help you use them,” she mocked, a slight smile at the edge of her mouth. “Well, I can’t. Seems like you got rid of the wrong person a little too soon, then, didn’t you?” Ari knew the younger priest had railed against his senior on the day she, Naibe and Deka had been collected. They hadn’t been able to use the Children of Stone that day. She wanted to mock him and remind him of that now, but felt it would only make an increasingly bad situation worse.

  “So, you claim to know nothing?” Hordjedtef re-stated, his voice rose in a doubt-filled question. “Yet, here you are working your healings as well as any skilled and trained physic?” the count sniveled. “You seem to be able to identify tinctures and herbs better than many who have studied for years. What was it you did for a livelihood, dear, that gave you the knowledge of a prophetess? What exactly did you learn to prophesy through those several devotees you encountered in the road at night?”

  “Now you insult me!” Ariennu snapped. “I listen and hear well enough these days. I know it is your wise women who have always taught men in exchange for their protection. I know, too, that some of these men in times past and even now have learned to abuse this knowledge. We have greater untapped knowledge to share. As a Great One of Djehuti, you should…” she snarled and faced the priest, then closed her eyes. She was too angry to speak. She wanted to keep shouting that men of his ilk stole knowledge of the woman ancestors and would, in t
ime, claim to have invented it. She didn’t have the chance to say it before the old priest continued.

  “Preventing the growth of an unwanted child in the womb, or ceasing it entirely and other savory, gentle arts, my dear? How appropriate for a woman such as yourself who claims to ally with the creator of all life, yet attempts to manipulate what life comes?” the priest continued, honey dripping in his voice.

  Give me strength, Ashera mine, give me strength… Ariennu gasped silently, wanting to jump up and kick the elder priest until either he fell silent or tried to cast a spell on her. She would cheerily twist it on him, then roll his suffering body into the sesen pool and… “Marai was going to teach us even more things when he returned, after you priests were supposed to teach him how to use them himself, but you ordered he be destroyed and don’t deny you did. So, you lose!” a chortle formed in her throat instead. “I should laugh.”

  The high priest simmered at her sharp remark.

  “Bites like a bad dog, doesn’t it,” she felt victorious laughter rise up inside her soul for a moment. “Seems like your dear Prince Wserkaf was…” She was about to say ‘right’, but the high priest grabbed her hand and stuck it on top of the mass of stones in the carved box. They shimmered beneath her hand.

  Touching them, Ariennu sucked in a shocked breath of air. He has me do it for him. I have to make him touch them. She thought of the boy Salim, whose hands had horribly burned when he tried to steal the Child Stones the night Marai and Naibe first shared their love. Strong! How is he this strong, to hold me faster than a young warrior in an arm wrestling match?

  Hordjedtef carefully mouthed an utterance, commanding the Children of Stone to a quiet and watchful rest.

  Ariennu almost saw it. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at because her eyes swept past it whenever she tried to clear them and to focus on a dark thing riding on the old man’s hand. Each time, a vortex of energy drew her thoughts down like water draining through a bung hole. There. A ring, or something on his middle finger. Nasty black thing like a twist of black hide. Awww… can’t look at it! When she tried to stare at it, the sight of it turned her stomach and made her tear her gaze away. Her eyes couldn’t send the image to her thoughts. She felt its cramping, cold energy as his hand rested on hers. It was as if snow from the northern hills beyond her homeland had lodged under her hand and seized her fingers.