by Diana Ballew
Flopping onto her back, she sighed. “Not that my spies reported. It seems the girl has sworn allegiance to Pharaoh. She is a grasping thing … pretty, I suppose, if you like those short, heathen women of the north. She is probably Apiru,” she sneered with obvious distaste. “I expect she is hoping to find her way into Pharaoh’s bed, or the vizier’s at the very least, and thus gain her freedom.”
The young prince thought on this. He needed to get word to Enlil — if Enlil thought to ransom her, it might well be better to wait until they were ready to attack. The girl might learn information that could be crucial to their success.
For weeks Alia’s sleep had been interrupted by strange dreams. Most nights she saw Pharaoh, not as he was, but older — bearing an expression of utter despair. A dark pall hung over him, and though he watched her intently, his eyes appeared lifeless, as if all his intense power had drained from him.
Several times each night she woke, startled, as Pharaoh’s voice called to her. She thought he stood beside her, yet upon waking she found there was no one else in the alcove, aside from Adjedaa.
And her mind kept replaying the brief kiss in the hall outside the reception chamber all those weeks ago. She had not seen Pharaoh since that night. The queen said he had taken his twin sons, Saussatar and Amunhotep, up river to select the site for their royal tombs.
Today, when Re’s bright rays finally forced her to open her eyes, Alia awoke worn out and confused. None of her dreams made any sense, and she feared speaking to Makare, the only fortune-teller she knew in this place, as she was one of the chief concubine’s women. Yet, if Makare could give her some guidance as to what her dreams meant, it could help her sort out her feelings and perhaps know what she should do if Pharaoh approached her in such a way again. What if the queen learns of it — will I be put to death? Or was Pharaoh’s kiss just a harmless gesture that I have exaggerated in my own mind? I do not know! If only Mother were here to understand this mess. By the gods of night, I miss her so.
“Alia!” The air of authority in Ineni’s voice cut across the room, interrupting her mental anguish. “You are late rising — our lady Neferure wishes you to attend her morning ablutions, then accompany her at garden and in the nursery."
Alia scrambled upright and dashed past Ineni. “I’m sorry for being so late, Ineni. I slept poorly.”
“So the other women said. Apparently you were speaking in a strange tongue and calling upon Seth.” He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Be warned, our mistress is devoted to Isis and will not allow her dominion to be usurped in this house.”
“I swear, Ineni,” Alia shook her head in both denial and confusion, “I know nothing of Seth. I had strange dreams last night, which woke me many times, but I hold no god in special esteem.”
“Still,” Ineni said, his voice wary, “it would be wise to consult a diviner and learn the meaning of these dreams.”
“Yes,” she tried to smile, but it ended more like a grimace and she knew it. “I will follow your advice, Ineni. Who should I seek? Who is trustworthy in the art of seeing?”
Ineni looked perplexed for a moment, then his eyes widened as an idea struck. “There is a woman, Ramla; they say she comes from Punt — and returned with Hatshepsut when her expedition went to find riches and exotics. She is old and frail, but she is said to know the realm of night. Her daughter, Eshe, is a cook in Pharaoh’s kitchens. After garden, go and find her — tell her I sent you.”
Alia bowed low before the chief steward. “Thank you, Ineni. You have been most kind.”
Ineni tapped her shoulder with his staff and gestured that she hurry to her duties.
Her work continued exactly as before, but according to Ineni she would now be awarded a small annual stipend of beer and grain that would be held in trust by the vizier. She had no idea how, or if, she’d ever need to use it — her father had always provided for her needs … and if she’d married, her husband would have taken on that role. Here, in Egypt, women could possess wealth of their own — yet Alia could not envisage needing more as long as she remained within the queen’s house.
Just as the sun disappeared behind the western wall of the garden enclosure, the queen granted Alia leave to spend some time at leisure. Neferure suggested that Alia might like to use her bathing chamber, but Alia didn’t have time to bathe; she needed to speak with Eshe’s mother as soon as possible.
She found Eshe, a big Kushite woman with black curly hair and dark eyes, bent over a steaming pot, stirring a greenish-gray mass that appeared hideous but smelled wonderful. Not wishing to interrupt the woman, Alia waited quietly as Eshe added spoonfuls of seasoning and pats of fat to the bubbling concoction.
The compact kitchen area was covered on one side by an awning, but the cook’s fires sat beneath the open sky. The covered space seemed cluttered, with ducks and bundles of herbs hanging alongside each other, and jars of wine, oil, and other ingredients stacked against every available inch of wall space. Baskets of dates and fruit beckoned as Alia realized she hadn’t eaten since morning.
After stirring the pot’s contents one more time, Eshe positioned a large flat lid over the top, leaving a small space to allow the steam to escape. With a nod to herself, she turned and nearly walked straight into Alia.
“Oh, dear me, I didn’t see you standing there, girl,” the older woman stated with a frown. “Why are you lurking in Pharaoh’s kitchens?”
“Please, Eshe,” Alia met the woman’s eyes, recognizing for the first time that as a freedwoman, she no longer had to bow to ordinary Egyptians. “Ineni, the queen’s steward, sent me.”
Eshe straightened at the mention of the steward’s name. “I have no need of more assistants — tell Ineni I thank him, but you would be put to better work elsewhere.”
With a shake of her head, Alia explained, “Forgive the intrusion, Eshe, but employment in the kitchen is not my purpose. Ineni said I was to seek you out so that I might speak to your mother about disturbing dreams I have had recently.”
Cocking her head to the side, Eshe sized Alia up, her frown deepening. “My mother is very old, and she spends more time in the next world than this. I doubt she can help you, young woman. Seek out the one they call Makare.” Turning away, Eshe lifted the lid over the boiling pot and dropped in a small linen bag that obviously contained spices.
Alia stepped closer to the big woman. “Please, Eshe. My dreams are very confusing, and I dare not speak with Makare; she is one of Sitiah’s women, and I am afraid that she will not speak truly.”
“Why would she interpret wrongly? I am told she is a gifted seer.”
Alia felt her cheeks warm. “'Tis difficult to explain, Eshe, but Sitiah took a dislike to me from the moment I was placed in her household, so I fear to trust anyone there. I have since been moved to the queen’s household, but no one in Neferure’s retinue has the gift of clear sight. Please, could you at least ask your mother if she might interpret my dreams? I promise to be bound by her decision. I am a freedwoman and able to pay for her advice.”
Eshe’s mud-colored eyes glanced away as she considered. A second later a dimple softened her rounded features. “Return after tonight’s meal. As payment you may help me clean before I escort you to my mother.”
With relief, Alia grinned back at the woman. “Thank you, Eshe, thank you. I will return once our queen dismisses me from attending her.”
Hurrying away, Alia felt as if a great burden had lifted. If Eshe’s mother could help her, she might also learn whether her brother, or indeed any other members of her family, still lived.
As she approached the bathing chambers to prepare for her duties, Vizier Rekhmire emerged from a doorway and stopped her in her tracks. “Alia, Pharaoh again needs your attendance at table. One of your neighboring countrymen, Prince Enlil, has requested a second audience.” He gave her a very stern look, one that seemed to penetrate to her heart as he loomed over her. “I have advised against your participation as I fear Enlil will attempt to use you for his
own purposes. Can you be trusted to speak the truth to Pharaoh?” It was a demand more than a question, and Alia felt herself wanting to shrink away from the vizier’s forbidding face.
Meekly, her eyes darted away, then returned to meet his. “I gave Pharaoh my promise of allegiance, Vizier Rekhmire. This man, Enlil, is almost a stranger to me.”
“Were you not betrothed to him?” the vizier accused.
“I knew nothing of a betrothal, Vizier Rekhmire. In truth, when Enlil spoke of it, I was surprised. Enlil and my brother might have made a pact as children, but no one in my family ever mentioned such an agreement. As a matter of fact, I was on my way to seal a marriage alliance with another Retennu prince, the prince of Yenoam, when I was taken from my father’s camp. Like my father, the man I was bonded to wed did not survive the battle.”
“Did this alliance take place, Alia?”
She shook her head. “We had only just arrived at the meeting-place when Pharaoh’s forces descended upon us. My father did not even have time to join with the other princes.”
“Prince Enlil relates a different story.”
Alia could tell Rekhmire suspected she was in league with the young prince.
“I know little of the machinations of the princes, then or now,” she answered the vizier boldly. “However, given the choice, I will say that I prefer my life within Pharaoh’s empire to that I led as my father’s daughter. Queen Neferure has been very generous, as has Ineni and all the queen’s women. I would be content to spend the remainder of my years in her service.”
“And what of service to Pharaoh? Does the idea of being in his confidence hold the same appeal?” His face had taken on a decidedly lecherous expression, and Alia didn’t quite know whether he was testing her or warning her off.
Bowing deeply, Alia made a gesture of obeisance and kept her gaze trained on her own toes. “I live by Pharaoh’s generosity, Vizier Rekhmire — whatever he commands of me, I swear I shall do my best to carry out, now and through all my days.”
She flicked a glance up to gauge Rekhmire’s reaction and shuddered to discover Pharaoh now stood alongside his vizier.
“Good. That is my will,” he said, and nodded as if satisfied. “I trust you to do as you say, Little Flower. Now take yourself off to be readied for Enlil’s visit. I suspect he wishes to attempt to barter for your life. But you have just affirmed your desire to stay under Neferure’s protection, so I will deny him any such bargain. Be warned, however, I may allow him to think he might have you, so we may uncover his schemes.”
At her sharp intake of breath Pharaoh grinned.
“Do not distress yourself, he shall not prevail — you now belong to Egypt.” The last he said with such finality, Alia shivered. Again she wondered at Pharaoh’s intentions; he behaved so unlike her father, who never gave women any credence at all. It seemed as if Pharaoh almost held a measure of respect for her person, and she found it most confusing.
“Go now, and make yourself ready.” With that order, Pharaoh and Rekhmire turned away, leaving her empty and alone as their footsteps echoed in the long corridor.
Chapter 4
The queen’s women dressed her differently for this evening’s table. Instead of the sheer shift that did little to protect her body from view, tonight’s garments were similar to those she’d seen worn by some of the noblewomen within the precincts of the royal house. Alia didn’t know who’d loaned her the beautiful white gown, but its softness and delicacy felt unlike anything she’d ever worn before. Her face had been partly covered, so as to reveal only her kohl-rimmed eyes, in the manner of the women of the east.
From the outset Pharaoh let it be known to the young prince that it was Alia who waited behind to serve him. Several others were also present, and their servers were dressed in the normal slave garb, which only made Alia stand out all the more.
Pharaoh didn’t once look in Alia’s direction, and she had to work hard not to glance at him, but as always, her mother’s training held her in good stead. As she studied Enlil throughout the giving of gifts and the eating of their ceremonial meal, she noticed that Enlil seemed extremely careful to eat or drink only from the same bowls as those Pharaoh chose. He obviously suspected that Pharaoh would poison him if the opportunity arose.
During the meal, while the other ambassadors spoke with Pharaoh, Enlil flashed surreptitious looks back at her, the meaning of which became apparent when Enlil again broached the subject of returning her to her homeland.
After making the proper entreaties to Pharaoh, Enlil offered a small casket filled with jewels, as well as two small monkeys he said had been procured from a merchant in the southern land of Nubia.
“So, Mighty Pharaoh, I request that my countrywoman be returned to me so that I might reunite her with the remnants of her family.”
Pharaoh lifted one dark brow ever so slightly and flicked a quick glance at her.
But they are all dead!
“Which members of Alia’s family have survived the battles, Prince Enlil?” Pharaoh enquired, and in an instant Alia knew Pharaoh had read her mind.
“Alas, only an aunt and an infant sister. The aunt is a cousin of my family, and she enjoys shelter in our tents. She also cares for the infant.”
Again Pharaoh glanced at her, but her eyes betrayed no reaction to Enlil’s words. Alia guessed the aunt he spoke of was a sister to one of her father’s lesser wives. She’d had little contact with those other than her immediate family, so who the woman might be exactly escaped Alia’s comprehension — and she expected Enlil was aware of her ignorance so hadn’t bothered to name the woman. The infant would also have been a mere half-sister, since her mother had no daughters younger than Mara, who’d wed and left their home days before their war party departed for Megiddo.
Alia had been the last, apart from two much younger brothers, and she surmised from Enlil’s explanation that they’d met the same fate as her father and Arad. A small ache threatened to rise in her chest but she quelled it; she’d mourned them all long ago so would resolutely put them from her mind now.
“Is it still your intention to wed Alia?” Pharaoh asked.
After a moment’s hesitation, Enlil answered in the affirmative. Yet even as he said the words, Alia knew he lied, or at least, if he intended to take her as wife, it was only for the sake of consolidating a power base. He’d tugged on his short beard and straightened on his seat before speaking, both of which were telling actions. She knew her life would probably be forfeit soon after the joining feast, or perhaps he had already married and she’d merely become a lesser wife.
When she looked across at Pharaoh, his regard subtly intimated he’d seen it too.
Pharaoh waved his hand toward the chest.
“This offer is very generous for a servant, Prince Enlil. Is there another significance to your request?”
“No, Pharaoh. I simply wish to redeem the life of my betrothed.”
Pharaoh steepled his fingers and appeared to consider the request.
Please, Mighty Pharaoh, send Enlil away!
Although he was young, and some would say handsome, there was an anger in Enlil’s black eyes that led her to believe he could be very cruel. She wondered why Arad and he had been such close companions as boys — Enlil seemed to carry little of the joyous zest for life she’d witnessed in her brother on the few occasions when she’d seen him in recent years.
“This is what I decree,” Pharaoh said, crossing his crook and flail before his chest. “Prince Enlil and the woman Alia may meet in the garden of Nut,” he gestured to the left, toward a small shrub-filled enclosure beyond the reception rooms, “for one hour.”
Alia’s head shot up in alarm — I must endure an hour alone with him?
“There, Enlil, you may plead your case to the girl.” Pharaoh continued. “At the end of the allotted time, she will return and tell of her choice. If she chooses to be reunited with her people, she may do so with the clothes on her back and nothing more.”
&nb
sp; Why had Pharaoh done this? Enlil, she noticed, bristled visibly — it appeared that he resented Pharaoh’s decree that she could choose her own fate.
Pharaoh motioned for a sand-clock to be brought forward, then nodded to two of the priests who stood motionless beside his gold-and-faience-encrusted throne. “The priests of Amun will accompany you outside, then leave you to your privacy.”
Rekhmire turned the large sand-clock, and with a flick of his hand, bade Enlil and Alia be escorted into the courtyard.
With extreme reluctance, Alia followed Enlil out into the verdant enclosure. The moon shone brightly between the shrubs, allowing her a clear view of his stern expression.
For several moments, he studied her with his hard eyes. She didn’t dare utter a word for fear her discomfort would become apparent. He surveyed the garden to be certain they were, indeed, alone before he spoke.
“So, cousin, how do you fare under the yoke of tyranny? Do you enjoy being used by this barbarian king?” Before she could even begin to respond, he stepped forward and grasped her wrists in a bruising hold. His broad hands were hairy and rough, and she held her breath, fearing he would break her fragile bones. “You were to be my passage to power. It was all planned — your new husband was to die immediately after the wedding — then I would have wed you, his widow, and gain control of all the territories between the Salt Sea and Sechem and north to Tunip. How could you have allowed yourself to be captured and enslaved?” He flung her away from him, then began pacing between two small stone benches.
Alia slowly lowered herself onto one of the benches, her legs unsteady and insubstantial, and waited in silence, hoping Enlil’s anger would burn itself out.
He spun about to face her, his glare harsh. “Has Pharaoh bedded you? Can I claim that he has stolen my betrothal rights?”
“No!” She spat the word at him — wishing for once that she were a man and could challenge him for his insolence.
In three steps he was by her side, ripping the shroud away from her face. “If you lie ... I will not be responsible for my actions, girl. And a man can tell these things, you know. If he has touched you, I will know.” He leaned into her face — his highly spiced breath smelled rank; she had to suppress the desire to heave. He gripped the knot of hair coiled at her nape and twisted until she slid to her knees before him. “If not Pharaoh, has another taken your prize? You were captive for long months ... did one of your guards fill your belly with his bastard?”