Bloodlines

by Robert Hill

maintained order throughout the centuries of Egypt’s glory.

  The tradition Menkaura now spoke of called for the heir to the Pharoah to be conceived with a woman of the Royal Family, preferably the oldest sister. In this case, Umayma would have been the one to conceive. If not for Khepri falling into Naunakht’s loving embrace, Umayma would have been the Great Royal Wife and Queen of Egypt. Now all that had changed.

  Bastet noticed the hard stare in the Pharoah’s eyes as he peered at Menkaura. “What Naunakht will add to the line of our family will not taint the blood of god-kings. It will only serve to enhance it.”

  Menkaura stepped back, displaying the thin lips of vexation. “What the Pharoah risks is total chaos, not only for the throne, but for all of Egypt. The people will never accept this union.”

  Surely Menkaura realized he was walking upon a dagger’s edge by making such a statement. Even Bastet could see this as she looked at the Pharoah and saw his eyes narrow and his jaw tighten.

  “Perhaps the people will not, my brother,” Khepri said. “But then it is not a decision for them to make.”

  Menkaura dared point his finger at the Pharoah. “It may not be a decision for them to make. But make it they will, I assure you of that, my brother.”

  He whirled about, signaling to his attendants and guards to follow as he turned his back upon the Pharoah and marched out of the throne room without permission.

  Khepri stared after him for a long, angered moment. Bastet also watched from the corner of her eye as Menkaura exited. She began to wonder if indeed she had found her killer. The younger brother certainly had the motive. His values and sense of family honor would not stand for this union. And his insolence by storming out of the throne room without being discharged by the Pharoah smacked of unbridled rage.

  Once Menkaura was gone, the Pharoah glanced at Umayma, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the way he gripped his crook and flail at his sides. “Am I to assume you oppose this as well, sister?”

  Umayma glared back at him with her charcoal eyes, and the struggle to hide her displeasure was clearly lost upon the battlefield of her slender face.

  “It would be dishonest if I told Pharoah I was happy with this decision,” she said. “But you are Pharoah. If this is what you desire, I will abide by it.”

  Staring at her, Bastet tried to discern whether Umayma’s words were sincere. A woman, as Bastet well knew, could easily hide the truth if it fit her needs. But even a goddess, powerful in many ways, could not read Umayma’s thoughts.

  Bastet harbored serious doubts that Umayma would sit back idly and honor Khepri’s decision. And only the unknowing future would be able to attest to that, which made Bastet increasingly uncomfortable, for of either sibling she still could not fathom which would commit murder – or if there might yet be another person hidden in the fog of destiny. At this point, though, Bastet was leaning more toward Menkaura.

  The Pharoah gently sat down upon his chair and rested his crook and flail on the lap of his ankle-length kilt. “Your support is duly noted, sister. You shall be compensated and cared for as a Queen of Egypt. Now go, for I must now have time to contemplate.”

  With deferential bows, Umayma, along with her attendants and guards, exited the throne room.

  Naunakht, however, remained seated at Khepri’s feet, still stone-faced in spite of what had just transpired. But when all who remained were Khepri’s servants and Akil still looming over his right shoulder, Naunakht turned to the Pharoah. From Bastet’s vantage she could see the tears welling in Naunakht’s eyes, threatening to ruin the black outline of kohl bordering her lids and the malachite paint surrounding them.

  Khepri set his crook and flail aside and leaned forward onto the edge of his throne, placing a hand upon Naunakht’s shoulder. Bastet felt a pang in her stomach sympathetic with the pain these two surely shared at this moment.

  “Menkaura will never agree to this,” Naunakht said, her chin trembling under the weight of her tears. “I fear he will rise like an asp and strike against you.”

  Khepri fixed a slight smile upon his face, and spoke in a gentle tone. “He will not. I am Pharoah, and he knows his place. If I were weaker than he, perhaps. But that is not the case.”

  Bastet continued to watch them as she reflected upon this statement. Surely Khepri did not totally believe this. It was clear that what had transpired had caused a rift between the two brothers; one that could lead to a political, if not murderous, confrontation.

  “I wish you did not love me,” Naunakht whispered, rubbing her tears against the hand Khepri had placed upon her shoulder. “Send me away. Do not bring this upon yourself – upon Egypt. Our wedding and our child will be your undoing.”

  Khepri stood, pulling Naunakht up with him, and grasped her firmly by both arms. Anger erupted across his face. “I will not send you away! Brother and sister may not like it. But then they do not have to, for their approval is not sought. You shall be the Great Royal Wife and the mother of our child.”

  “But Khepri, they will never accept this.” Naunakht’s hands rose to her slightly swollen abdomen as if to protect the child growing within.

  “They have no choice,” he muttered.

  Bastet forced her gaze away for a moment. Although she was a goddess, she also felt the pain of these two mortal beings. A bitter taste washed over her rough tongue as she tried not to dwell on this, but rather on what she had to do to ensure the unborn child survived.

  “Go refresh yourself,” Khepri said, his thumbs tenderly wiping away the tears clinging to Naunakht’s smudged cheeks. “I will come for you shortly.”

  Naunakht nodded, pulling away from him, and then she descended the steps of the throne. Bastet watched her leave, noticing how Naunahkt held up her chin as she regained her composure.

  Khepri turned to Akil. “Escort her to her chambers and let none enter at the cost of their lives.”

  The silent bodyguard nodded and then tread quickly to follow Naunahkt. Once they had departed, Khepri sighed and returned to his chair.

  Momentarily, his vizier, Badru, entered the room and began discussing with Khepri the revenue reports for the past quarter and of troubles stirring in the south with the often rebellious Nubians.

  Such mundanities were of no interest to Bastet for she was more focused on her mission. Her first thought was to go watch over Naunakht and await the arrival of the killer. But then the Pharoah had already seen to it that Naunakht would be protected.

  Akil was a trusted and skilled warrior. Menkaura would be no match against him, nor would tiny Umayma, if Bastet’s suspicions were wrong about the brother. Naunakht would be safe for the time being. At least long enough for Bastet to track Menkaura and determine that he was indeed at this moment plotting Naunakht’s demise.

  Quickly, she pattered across the throne room unnoticed. But as she left, she saw the look of distraction on Khepri’s face and realized that he was also disinterested in the mundane details set before him by his vizier.

  Bastet could not worry about him now. She needed to determine where Menkaura had slipped off to with his entourage. The Pharoah would have to attend to himself while Bastet attended to the future.

  Skirting the edges of the palace’s corridors, which were lined by huge columns of sand colored stone, Bastet searched everywhere hoping to locate Menkaura. But as Bastet pressed on, she could not determine where he had gone, and she cursed herself for having lingered in the throne room.

  Eventually, she came to the very entrance of the palace and sat upon the top steps where she took in the fetid odor of the not-too-distant Nile and the aroma of waterfowl being cooked in a nearby home. If only her prime suspect were as easy to smell, Bastet remarked to herself, she could follow the scent directly to Naunakht.

  She looked up at the setting sun as it cast pink and purple hues upon the sky. Time was running out, and Ra had said the murder would take place on this day if she did not stop it. But
Menkaura was nowhere to be found.

  She should go to Naunakht and wait, Bastet kept telling herself. Although Akil was there, and as a warrior would be better equipped to deal with an attacker than even she with her limited powers …

  But then Bastet remembered what Ra had told her. And she also remembered what she had told the Pharoah in his dream. Someone very close to Khepri would attempt to commit the murder. Someone whom the Pharoah trusted perhaps even more so than his own brother or sister.

  Akil!

  Bastet dashed back inside the palace, skittering across the floor as she rounded corners. She cursed herself as she ran, frustrated by the difficulties of sprinting on feline claws through a place laid out from wall to wall with polished, smooth surfaces. With each turn she found herself off-balance, her nails clicking against the slippery floor and unable to find purchase.

  She hoped it was not too late; that nothing terrible had occurred during the short span of time she had been searching the palace.

  But when she reached the entrance of Naunakht’s chambers, she grew more anxious, for there were no guards who stood watch. And there was not even the hint of Akil’s presence.

  Furtively, Bastet slid beneath the billowing, blue curtains that covered the entrance. Upon stepping into the vast chamber she noticed Akil lying face-down upon the floor, dead from a twisted wound in his back. Then Bastet noticed