by Diana Ballew
Pharaoh nodded in agreement. “Yes, Little Flower, that is exactly what I also heard.”
Alia drew a quick breath, and her eyes darted upward.
Pharaoh’s golden eyes seemed to dance with amusement. “Ah, Little Flower, I understood their tongue very well. I have been tutored in all the languages by the priests, as has my vizier, Rekhmire. But it is always well to be doubly careful. You have spoken with truth, and it will be rewarded.”
Pharaoh leaned across to his vizier and muttered a few unintelligible words. Rekhmire drew his brows together but nodded and turned to leave the great hall.
“I will send you to be attendant upon my great wife, Neferure. Her women will care for you and teach you our customs, and if it pleases me, I will see you again at my leisure. Would the arrangement be to your liking, Little Flower?”
Tears of gratitude filled her eyes as her innards tumbled with excitement. “Oh, yes, Great Pharaoh,” she murmured.
Alia had heard many tales about the kindness of Pharaoh’s great wife. Neferure, daughter of Queen Hathepsut, was Egypt’s first lady, supervising the royal nursery as well as serving as high priestess of Amun. In the short time Alia had been captive in Thebes, she’d heard nothing but fond comments about her soon-to-be mistress.
Pharaoh reached out and again touched her chin, drawing his thumb across her skin. His mouth hinted at a smile, and she felt strangely uplifted — a warm feeling of safety spread through her. Returning his slight smile, Alia bowed low.
“Go then, Little Flower. Ambassadors from Sharuhen and Gaza attend on the morrow. I shall again need your eyes and ears, so sleep and prepare.”
“I am ever your humble servant, Great Pharaoh.”
As Alia walked toward Queen Neferure’s suite, her elation threatened to bubble over. In one short season her life had changed dramatically. She’d been transformed from daughter of a minor king of Retennu to servant in the household of the great wife of the mightiest ruler of the world, and Pharaoh’s eyes and ears at diplomatic table.
“Are you sure this is a wise course, Majesty?” Rekhmire asked when he joined Pharaoh in the seclusion of his apartments only moments later.
“The girl proved herself — should she not be rewarded?”
“I would advise caution; proving herself once does not mean she is trustworthy. If she is a spy, then surely she would expect such tests.”
Pharaoh removed his khat and shook out his short braid. Unlike many of his countrymen, he chose not to remove his hair, but kept it oiled to prevent vermin. Attendants cut it regularly so that it would remain hidden in public, but he vowed on the day he was elevated beyond the priesthood that he would never again appear as a priest. Thus, he kept his hair and painted his face in a manner that marked him as noble.
He turned to Rekhmire and gave the man his most commanding look. “I have another plan. I shall take the girl into my confidence and keep a close eye upon her myself. This I could not do if she remained beneath Sitiah’s roof — that wretched woman would surely attempt the begetting of royal sons if I visited upon her house.
“No, ‘tis better that Alia be placed in Neferure’s rooms. There I might see her daily if I so choose, and measure her loyalty for myself.”
Rekhmire crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in the same manner as he did when Pharaoh was still a mere stripling. “I sense there is more than just observation on your mind, Majesty. I admit the girl is very attractive, but do you think it wise to become enamored of her?”
“Am I not permitted some pleasure in this life, Rekhmire? Must I always be thinking of maintaining order and balance in the world?”
Scoffing, the vizier shook his head slowly. “Pleasure? Majesty, I remind you that you have the choice of any number of willing women: several concubines and foreign princesses-in-waiting, each of whom is happy to be your lover when you so desire. You need but say the word and any one of them will attend your bed.”
“Ahh — but that is their duty,” he said, and threw the vizier a discontented glare, “just as maintaining ma’at is my duty. Once, just once in this life, I would have the woman come to me as a man, by choice, not as her master and king.”
“What you suggest is likely impossible, Majesty. As their god, a most undesirable aim. And as a man you are as vulnerable as any other. If the girl is a traitor to her new king she might easily stick a blade between your ribs even as she shows her lust.”
Pharaoh turned away from Rekhmire’s judgmental expression. “By my ka, I do not believe the girl would do thus. Besides, my purpose is more for my kingdom than for myself. The girl represents all those who are conquered. If she comes to me of her own free will, it will serve as a fine example to all her countrymen and their women,” he said, looking back into Rekhmire’s face, “and if the girl is innocent, and provides a distraction from the weight of maintaining order and justice in the two lands, then is that so wrong?”
Rekhmire remained silent for a long time before sighing. “You are Pharoah; all is your choice. I merely give my opinion.”
Pharaoh rewarded his vizier with a genuine smile. “You are overly cautious, Rekhmire, and it is making you an old man before your time. Go to your own family and spend some time at leisure.”
“Yes, Majesty.” Rekhmire sketched a perfunctory bow.
“Can you send in an attendant as you leave? I think I shall pay a visit upon my great wife before she retires for the evening.”
He saw the look of disapproval in his vizier’s eyes but ignored it. As Rekhmire had said, all choice belonged to him.
“Were you followed?” the first man said to his co-conspirator as soon as the door had closed.
He didn’t chance lighting a lamp; moonlight was the only concession he would allow.
“You worry too much,” the second man stated in a loud whisper as he sat on the roughly made wicker stool opposite.
The first man darted him a disgruntled look before uncorking the jug that held a sweet beer made locally from apples and dates. He took a long draft before passing the jug across to his comrade.
“We must be very careful now our plans are almost in place. One slip, one mistake, and it will have all been for naught. Revenge might only be a season away, and we cannot afford to lose our opportunity.”
“I am aware of this, my friend, and I still say you worry too much. Nobody followed me. As far as anyone knows I am just another unimportant visitor to Thebes.”
“What of the girl?”
“Your informants were correct, she was taken to the palace and has served in the chief concubine’s suite since her arrival. And we are in luck. I have asked around; this woman is out of favor and might play into our hands. We go there tomorrow to see what help she might be.” He raised the jug in salute and drank deeply.
“What is the plan, then?”
“We appeal to her vanity. I have heard talk, and they say she is easily swayed by a handsome face. We can make sport of it, a wager, if you will. The first to seduce her can hide in her suite to spy from within … and … enjoy whatever pleasures are to be had. The other can continue our preparations from beyond the city.”
“And the prize?”
“Ahh — he who wins shall have the pleasure of killing the usurper king with his own hand.”
A broad smile stretched across the second man’s face as he showed his appreciation of this plan. “In that case, I fully intend to be the seducer.”
“May the waters bring you bounty. My name is Alia,” she said to the little girl in servant’s garb beside the entrance to Neferure’s chambers. “Our Majesty has sent me to join your mistress’s household.”
The girl, all of nine or ten harvests, blinked several times before holding up her hand to stay Alia’s motion. With a nod of her hairless head, the girl fled into the inner sanctum, leaving Alia to wait patiently outside. A long time passed, and Alia wondered if the little girl had understood her greeting. Am I to stand here all night?
Just as she lifted her han
d to push the heavy barrier of curtains aside, a eunuch emerged, his staff and curved sickle held at the ready. “I am our lady Neferure’s first steward,” he said. “My name is Ineni. Inhapi tells me you are to join our lady’s women. Is this Pharaoh’s order?”
Alia stood meekly, with her head bowed. “Yes, Ineni. I served at table this moonrise. Great Pharaoh, Blessed King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lord of the Red Land and the Black Land, requested I join our lady Neferure’s household.” She hoped she had used the correct address; she didn’t want to make a poor first impression. Though a servant himself, this man probably wielded much power within the rooms behind him.
“I see you are a slave from the recent wars with Retennu. To whom were you assigned before coming to us?”
Alia couldn’t hide her grimace. “Great Pharaoh’s chief concubine, the lady Sitiah.” She cast a veiled glance at the man. He seemed in his middle years, smooth-faced except for the few lines about his eyes, which didn’t appear to mar his effeminate beauty. He stood nearly a full foot taller than her, which made her feel even more overwhelmed.
He nodded once. “So you are the one,” he said cryptically. Her eyes darted up again, but he didn’t choose to explain. “Very well, come with me.” Ineni lifted the heavy curtains aside, and as she crossed the threshold, Alia saw that armed guards, two on each side, flanked the inner entrance.
Through a second columned opening, which was covered by gilded, gauze curtains, Alia found a large room filled with statuary depicting gods of every kind. Oil lamps covered every surface. The walls were painted in bright colors, showing life at court under the ever-present gaze of Amun-Re. Pleasant hunting scenes and family groupings filled each panel of the wall. Exotic-looking divans were scattered around the room, and an ornately carved table and chairs sat beneath a tiny window.
The richness of color almost blinded Alia’s eyes. Nothing her father possessed even approached the wealth in this room alone. Gold, silver, and copper bowls and cups — all finely wrought and shining brightly — sat upon the table. Flowers, many sacred blue lotuses, sat in vases around the chamber. She drew a deep breath to catch their subtle fragrance, so intoxicating in its beauty. Although she had never before seen one this closely, she had heard stories from some of the other captives that the lotus had healing properties and kept people young. But the flower was reserved for the temples and the wealthy — a slave would have to sacrifice much to attain just one bloom.
“Wait here and touch nothing,” Ineni ordered. “I will attend our queen and see if she wishes to meet you now.” He withdrew through a side door, and again Alia was left standing for quite some time.
Years of practice at her mother’s side had taught Alia to stand perfectly still for hours if need be, and though the exercise had been very tedious in the learning, it now stood her in good stead. So accustomed had she become at narrowing her focus to a small spot upon a distant wall, she didn’t even notice when she was no longer alone.
“Ah, Little Flower.”
Alia almost leapt from her skin when Pharaoh’s deep voice rippled over her bare back. Her immediate reaction was to throw herself face down on the stones as she’d been taught, but Pharaoh commanded that she remain standing. She bowed her head, uncertain what else to do as warmth crept into her cheeks. A confused flutter raced through her belly. This man was a god as well as a king, yet he treated her like she was more than a lowly slave.
“Nor it is necessary to hide your face,” he said, rounding to stand before her. “You know,” he whispered, leaning closer so his warm breath caressed her cheek, “the waiting is merely to remind you of your lack of power. Do not let it bother you. As daughter to a prince, you are aware of such things? No?”
Amazed at his understanding, again she lowered her head in obeisance, “Yes, Great Majesty.”
“I said you shouldn’t hide your face,” he reminded in a stern voice. Placing his fingertips under her chin, he gently lifted her face toward his. “Ceremony should apply when there is need. But in private, as long as you remain respectful, I request that you cease bobbing up and down every time we speak. Agreed?”
Alia couldn’t hide her astonishment. Her father would never have countenanced such a relaxation of appropriate behavior, especially between ruler and slave.
“If that is your wish, Great Majesty, I am ever your servant.” For good or ill, she looked him in the eyes and saw warmth and understanding reflecting back from their tawny depths.
“It is indeed my wish.”
With that agreement, Alia found herself relaxing a little, though she didn’t dare move. Pharaoh, on the other hand, sauntered gracefully to one of the divans and reclined.
“You will like being in my great wife’s household, I think. She is a kindly and generous woman. Neferure has lived here for many years and is comfortable. Her servants are many, but loyal, and will care for you as one of their own. And, if you serve her well, you will live a good life.”
The queen chose that very moment to enter the chamber.
Alia instantly crouched into a deep bow, holding the uncomfortable position until Ineni tapped her with his staff and gestured for her to stand upright. As she rose, she lifted her gaze to look upon her new mistress. Neferure paid her no attention, her focus solely intent upon her royal husband.
Just as Alia had heard, the great wife was regal, though not beautiful. Her face and smile were welcoming and hinted at being familiar. Alia swallowed hard and found it difficult to hold back the sudden rush of emotion that filled her. Neferure Meryt-re-Hatshepsut, great wife of Pharaoh Tuthmosis, reminded Alia very much of her beloved mother, both in look and bearing. Alia’s best guess would have made her some thirty harvests or a few more, possibly even older than her royal husband.
“Majesty,” Neferure said, bowing formally to her husband. “Ineni did not say you had chosen to bring the girl yourself.” She glared ferociously at her steward, whose face instantly paled.
“Ah, Neferure, do not scold your man. I arrived not a moment ago and found the Little Flower here awaiting your presence.
“I’ve come to discuss matters of state that concern your household.”
“Certainly, husband.” With a lowering of her rich brown eyes, the great wife turned. “I will attend your Majesty in private chambers.” To Ineni she murmured, “Take the girl to Adjedaa. She will provide bedding and supper. I’ll interview her in the morning at garden.”
“As you say, Mistress.”
A moment later Neferure and Pharaoh were gone, leaving Alia with a strange sense of emptiness as she followed Ineni to her new destiny.
“I don’t like it. I feel trapped.” The young man with the pale green eyes paced the room like a caged creature. “She could have lured us here to kill us, and we have no means of escape.”
The room was semi-dark, lit only by two lamps, one set against the far wall and another beside the covered doorway. There was no window and little air. The gloom and closeness felt claustrophobic to men who’d lived much of their recent lives out in the open.
“You always worry too much,” Enlil said. He was taller and broader than his companion. Brothers in spirit — they were as unalike as night from day. Those who knew him said his dark eyes shone like glossy black gems, while his friend’s eyes held a lightness that gave him an air of innocence — an innocence that had often helped them escape the repercussions of many of their daring exploits.
“One of us must be careful,” his friend grunted.
“Sitiah had us brought here so our safety and secrecy are guaranteed. Wati said she seemed eager to discuss our plans. Let us just wait and learn what she has to say. To have an ally within Pharaoh’s house would be a great boon.” He stared into his companion’s pale eyes. “Perhaps two allies, if our information proves correct.”
“I still don’t like it. I don’t trust Wati or his spies. Wati is a trader and is more interested in his profits than returning our homelands to our people. If Pharaoh offers more gold than we can
give, Wati will betray us.” He quickened his pacing. When he turned, he almost snarled, “Where is she, then?”
“Sitiah stands here.”
Both men looked to the doorway as the curtain moved aside to reveal a woman with sharp, dark features and eager, hungry eyes. She stood tall and thin like the papyrus that grew alongside the river. Her braided wig, black and bejeweled with green and blue beads, clicked as she moved. She was not pretty, but very striking — a trait that Enlil could appreciate. The familiar tingle, a tightening in his groin, reminded him of their wager.
Sitiah glanced at each man in turn. Enlil could see that she measured them both, calculating in a way that only a female of some power or knowledge can. Her white gown appeared quite translucent in the soft lamplight. He noted the dark points that tipped her small breasts, and then his gaze fell lower, to the junction of her thighs, where a hint of darkness promised a primal heat. Her bearing exuded a sensuality that forced his body to react the instant she’d laid eyes upon him. And as she moved closer her scent caught in his nostrils, an exotic smell that made his skin itch with warmth.
Wati had said that she could seduce any man she chose, and now he’d seen her, Enlil knew the trader had not lied.
“Greetings, young princes,” she said, then motioned to a low table surrounded by cushions where a jug of wine and three cups sat. “Shall we not sit and begin our discussions?”
The men waited for Sitiah to seat herself before they took their places on either side of her. Enlil found it difficult to fold his long legs beneath the table without his thigh brushing hers, and when he looked at her, a tiny, secret smile quirked her lips. He cocked a brow in question, then allowed his thigh to rest there, against her heated skin.
“Wati the trader tells me you seek my help,” she began, directing her attention first to him, then his companion.
“That is true,” his companion answered. “We understand that you also wish our help in ridding yourself of Pharaoh’s great wife.”