There was a knock at the door. They got up reluctantly.
“My servants and half of the royal council,” guessed Sethy.
“What are your plans for this morning?”
“I have to meet a dozen superintendents, review the city police, give audience to a swarm of honey flies, and, miraculously, grab Soromeh to discuss the wedding date.”
“Go now before she disappears for the day,” said Damon, pulling his tunic on. “I’ll meet you at her quarters. I fear this is a two-man job.”
Sethy nodded, stole a last kiss, and pushed him towards the discreet doorway that led to the queen’s quarters.
Damon walked through the empty rooms with familiarity, found the servant’s entrance, and left through a side door. There were only royal guards in the deserted corridor. They nodded at him without saying a word. The soldiers assigned to that wing of the palace came from long lineages of loyal guards. They kept absolute silence about anyone they saw entering or leaving the royal quarters.
Damon walked to his own chambers, near the princesses’. His own servants waited at the door with clean clothes and fresh water. He knew there were many rumors about the bed he spent his nights in and that every woman of Egypt was on the list of possible suspects, but to his knowledge, no one had thought of the king.
Once clean and dressed, he went to Soromeh’s quarters. There was yelling coming from it. The two guards were staring at the floor, wincing.
Damon ran up to them. “What’s happening?”
“Sire!” said the guard Ookami. “It’s—I’m sorry, but we can’t say anything.”
They didn’t stop him from opening the doors. He walked through the antechamber and froze at the entrance of the living room. For a moment, he didn’t recognize Sethy against the light.
The king was hitting Iram with a birch whip. The servant was prostrated, his torso uncovered, and was biting his lip to stop himself from crying in pain.
The door to the servants’ bedroom was locked from the outside, but Soromeh’s furious yelling could be heard through the wood.
“By Horus, what happened?” asked Damon.
“This unworthy slave was sleeping next to Soromeh!” howled the pharaoh, hitting harder.
Damon hesitated. He could not stop the king from punishing a slave, even less if it was a fault punishable by death.
“Your majesty, I ask you for a favor!” he shouted over the noise. “Let me avenge my betrothed’s honor!”
The king stopped. He took a moment to get his breath back, staring at the shaking servant. He then stood upright, replaced his clothes, and handed the whip to Damon. He left the room without saying a word. Damon could only stare after him in disbelief.
Soromeh’s yells brought him back to reality. He ignored her and kneeled next to the young Hebrew. His back was marked with several crisscrossing red lines.
“Sir—Sir Damon,” whispered Iram. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t dare—”
“I did not allow you to speak,” said Damon.
He went to open the servants’ bedroom door. Soromeh burst out and planted herself in front of Iram, arms extended, eyes crying tears of rage.
“I forbid you from approaching him!”
“You are my betrothed. You owe me an explanation. This man committed a crime—”
“You have no idea what happened! This fault is mine. I’m the one you should punish! Do it!”
Damon dropped the whip on a nearby table. He stepped towards Soromeh and stopped when he heard her growl like an animal.
“I won’t raise a hand against you or the ones under your protection. Come, let’s bring him to a physician.”
She stared him down for a long moment, then nodded. They helped Iram up and walked with him. At the door, Damon muttered something to the guard Ookami, who left first to clear the way. The situation could not be known, to protect Soromeh’s honor.
They reached the quarters of Kamuzu, head physician and personal healer to the royal family. He was annoyed to be raised so early in the day and got even grouchier when he realised it was for a punished slave. He brought Iram to the consultation room and closed the door as rudely as he could in the presence of royalty.
Soromeh leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. Damon did the same and waited.
“I am guilty of nothing, and neither is he,” she said.
“Tell me what you were doing in his bed.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I wasn’t in his bed. I was on the floor, next to Misha’s bed. Am I allowed to mourn near whatever is left of her, or do I need to ask permission to my brother and my betrothed first?”
“Soromeh—”
“Iram was keeping me company! I fell asleep, head on his shoulder, and that’s where Sethy found us. He came to the wrong conclusion, locked me up, and beat my most loyal servant without believing a single word I said.”
Her voice was cold and hard. Damon pressed the bridge of his nose, thinking fast.
“I believe you,” he said. “But you need to be careful. A princess can’t act like this with her slaves.”
“Then I’ll free him.”
“Think carefully about this. You can make him a citizen and cover him in gold, but you can’t give him nobility titles since he’s a Hebrew. He wouldn’t be allowed to remain at the palace. You wouldn’t see him again.”
She pulled at her hair in frustration.
“Soromeh,” he continued, “you’re getting older, and your companions are not children. We could always go back to ancient practices.”
“I refuse to make them into eunuchs!” she snapped. “They belong to me. No one will touch a hair on their heads.”
“Don’t you understand? You were found in a compromising position with a slave. It’s a bigger problem than you think!”
“Sethy complicated everything!”
“He was protecting your honor and mine. If the morning servants had found you like this, the rumor would have ran through the palace before noon, and he would have been executed on the esplanade!”
The door opened, and Master Kamuzu entered, wiping his hands.
“I did what I could,” he said with disdain, “but it’s impossible to fix his waifish disposition or his sickly complexion. Well, he could eat more red meat.”
“We brought him for the whipping marks on his back!” said Soromeh.
“Nothing that can’t be cured with some ointment, your majesty.”
Damon stood back up. “I need to speak with him.”
“Do,” sighed the physician. “Please, be sure not to break anything. Some of these vials are older than you are, sire.”
Damon closed the door behind him. The only windows were thin horizontal openings near the ceiling. The walls were covered in shelves filled with bottles, pots, herbs, and rolls of papyrus. There was a bed, where Iram sat. He jumped to his feet, ready to prostrate himself.
“Stay up,” ordered Damon. “Let’s talk.”
Iram nodded but kept his gaze on the floor. Damon leaned on a counter and crossed his arms.
“Soromeh told me what happened. I believe her. So far, you have acted in an exemplary manner, and you took care of Soromeh’s wellbeing when Sethy and I could not. I don’t want to see you punished unfairly. Look me in the eye, Iram.”
Iram startled upon hearing his name. He lifted his eyes.
“I will ask only once,” said Damon. “What are you expecting from Soromeh?”
To his own surprise, Iram let out a nervous laugh. “Forgive me, sire, it’s just that… Her majesty has already given me everything. I know my rank. I know my life is worth less than the dirt under her sandals.”
“You make sense, but I think I asked the wrong question. What would you do for her?”
“Everything, sire,” he blurted. “I could spend the rest of my life answering to her every whim, and I would still be unable to pay the debt I owe her.”
Damon stayed silent and came to a decision.
“The securi
ty around the princess will be tightened,” he said. “Every evening, a soldier will lock the door to your room. At the slightest transgression, you will be kicked out, castrated, or executed, depending on the seriousness of the fault.”
“Yes, sire,” said Iram.
“These rules will be applied until the day of our wedding.”
“...I’m sorry, sire?”
“Soromeh will then legally be my wife. All her rights will go from her brother to me. I will be the only one making decisions. If such a situation happens again, I can choose to ignore what doesn’t concern me.”
Iram stayed silent, but Damon could read the many questions on his face.
“We have something in common. We both want her happiness.”
Damon left the room to announce the guard changes to Soromeh. Iram heard the princess yell back. In the dark room, he made a fist and lifted it to his lips.
Chapter 10
Journey to Hell
Soromeh had been distant with her servants since Iram’s punishment. Iram worked on his daily tasks, head lowered and silent. Onamu had trouble living in such a tense environment and tended to drop platters and cups. Barak grew tired of the silent drama in the princess’s quarters and escaped to the terrace.
His respite was short-lived, for Soromeh joined him, carrying a heavy water jug.
“Can I help you?” asked Barak out of obligation.
“You’re kind, but this is something I like to do myself.”
She waddled to the row of potted trees that lined the balcony. She ignored them all except for one, the smallest.
“It’s an olive tree,” she explained while watering it. “The day of my birth, many trees were planted in Egypt, but this one was planted by my mother. At least that’s what my nannies told me. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Barak said nothing. The tree was as tall as the princess and seemed already stuck in its alabaster pot. He compared it to the others, perfectly trimmed, tall as the wall behind them was high.
“There are more trees on the other side of that wall,” he thought out loud.
She rolled her eyes. “These are Sethy’s, some pretentious things that come from all around the great sea. He doesn’t care for them. He always forgets to water them.”
“...Are these his majesty’s quarters, then?” asked Barak innocently.
“Not anymore. He’s in the king’s chambers, and I’m glad. Further down are Damon’s rooms. When we were younger, we used to climb the trees to go from terrace to terrace and escape our nannies.”
Her voice was distant. She carefully inspected every leaf of her sapling to get rid of bugs. Barak stayed silent, his eyes always coming back to the trees.
“Listen, Barak,” she said, suddenly. “I wanted to speak to you.”
He straightened up, nervous. Soromeh twisted the fabric of her dress.
“I also spoke with Iram and Onamu. It’s about what happened the other day.”
Barak bit back his comments.
“I wish I could tell you things like that never happen, but once is once too many. I was naïve. I thought I could ensure your safety by making you my servants, but a slave remains a slave, and I’m still powerless under the law.”
She took a papyrus scroll from the folds of her dress and handed it to Barak. He opened it to find rows of symbols he couldn’t read. At the bottom, there was a familiar word stamped in wax. It was the same name written on his slave bracelet.
“It’s a document that gives you back your freedom,” she explained. “To thank you for your services, the throne of Egypt, represented by myself, gives back his citizenship to Barak, son of Levannah—that’s you. Mostly, that means you can leave whenever you want and live wherever you want, and you won’t be in trouble. Ah, I’m also giving you land—you just have to say where you want to live—and also enough gold to last you all your life. I can also regift you some oils and perfumes. I have chests full of those. The dignitaries don’t know what to give me anymore.”
Barak let her talk. He stared at the papyrus, his breath short. His eyes went back to the trees, then back to the papyrus. He had to bite back a frustrated scream. His jaw clenched, he tried to control his voice.
“Your majesty, I can’t accept.”
“What? Why?”
“Iram declined, didn’t he?”
Hearing this, she seemed to deflate. “I tried to convince him. He says he owes me his life. Even if I insist, he refuses to think straight. Onamu is too young. He can’t be left alone, not yet, but Iram can do whatever he wants, live his own life, with a real girl he could marry. He could have kids that would all inherit these ridiculous cheekbones you have in your family. He could spend the rest of his days without having to serve anyone, without ever being whipped, ever again.”
She noticed that Barak was still looking at her, awkwardly, and gathered her composure.
“He said no. I guess you don’t want to leave your brother, now that you got him back.”
“That’s it. I can’t leave Iram.”
“I understand. Listen, if that’s what you want, you can keep your post, I’m not throwing you out. I’ll see that the incident from the other day never happens again. Keep the papyrus. If someday you change your mind, you just have to show it to leave the palace. No one will stop you.”
He thanked her, lost in thought.
“Before I forget, I’m granting you a day off, all three of you. You’re free until sunrise tomorrow. If you wish to visit the town, I can give you a signed document.”
“No!” he yelped in fear. “Thank you, but I’d rather stay inside the walls.”
“If that’s what you want. If it were me, I’d take any occasion to leave.”
“You say that because you don’t know the city,” he blurted.
Instead of punishing him for being impertinent, she laughed.
“You’re probably right. I’ll leave you alone, now. I need to convince my guards I don’t need to be shadowed today.”
She went back inside. Barak remained alone on the terrace, staring at words he was unable to read.
* * *
The workroom was stifling. The thin opening near the ceiling allowed for little fresh air and sunlight. The lamps on the wall burned a rancid cheap oil. Damon hated these tiny rooms, but he had to suffer them until his official vizier ones were done being renovated.
He reread the same line for the third time and did not remember a word. He sighed, placed the papyrus on the table already covered in them, and pressed the bridge of his nose.
“Forgive me if I’m being disrespectful, Lady Naími, but since you’re partly responsible for Soromeh’s safety, I’m forced to ask. What happened to you?”
Naími straightened up in her chair, dignified despite the bruises covering her face. Her eye was still slightly swollen, her split lip was taking a long time to disappear, and her wounds still made her limp.
“When I was assigned the post of lady-in-waiting to her majesty, I thought my loyalty had to go towards her and not her betrothed.”
“Don’t play these games, Naími. Don’t make me go through the king.”
“Despite all the respect I owe to his majesty the king, I saw the scars on young Iram’s back. I refuse to risk the princess’s safety, even if her brother rules the country.”
“He would never raise a hand to Soromeh!”
“Until recently, the princess herself swore he would never raise a hand to one of her companions. Who am I supposed to believe?”
“I could throw you in jail for such disrespect.”
“I know you’re smarter than this, sire. You don’t have my gift of vision, but you’re perceptive. What do you see?”
He sighed. “I see that you’re gravely wounded and that Soromeh is still at the palace without a single scratch.”
She gracefully nodded. They went back to work.
The midday hour had long passed when their concentration was broken by voices. There was an argument on the other side of th
e door.
“And that’s the end of our productivity,” sighed Damon.
He opened to find Soromeh and the guard Ookami walking through the administrative corridor.
“I don’t know what you think you’re protecting me from,” shouted Soromeh over her shoulder. “This wing of the palace is only used by scribes, and even I could break them in half like dry twigs!”
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 13