by Diana Ballew
Although she frowned deeply, Neferure patted Alia’s hand in the same way a mother comforted her daughter. “Perhaps we should tell my royal husband of this,” she mused.
“Oh, no, Mistress. It is probably nothing; besides, it would be of little interest to Pharaoh.”
A matronly brow quirked in surprise as soft brown eyes roved over her. “You think not? My husband finds you of great interest, Alia.”
Abject terror surged through Alia’s chest as she shook her head in vehement denial. “Please, Mistress. I have not sought—”
Neferure stilled Alia’s words with a wave of her hand and turned to the other attendants. “Leave us,” she commanded.
Once they were alone she lowered her voice and said, “Do not be alarmed, young one. I know you have not sought out his attention.”
Alia nodded. “The gods chose to change my destiny. I was on my way to be wed with the ruler of a neighboring princedom when our party came under attack by Pharaoh’s army and my family — my father and brother — were killed.”
“Oh, Alia, I am sorry that Pharaoh’s war interfered with your marriage.”
“Don’t be, Mistress. If the man was like the princes from my country I have since met, I am very glad Pharaoh saved me from that fate. In my homeland, husbands are often cruel. I’d have been more a slave there than when I first came here. Egypt’s tethers are kinder than the unseen chains worn by my countrywomen.”
“Then Isis has protected you. That is well.” Neferure stood and walked a circuit of the room, and it almost appeared that she was ensuring they were completely alone. Then she resumed her seat and spoke in quiet whispers. “I am going to tell you a secret, Alia, so you might understand why I bear no resentment that my husband has chosen as he has.
“When I was a small girl, my mother was very happy and in love. Not with Pharaoh Tuthmosis, for whom she was an honored great wife, but with another who was considered far below her station. That man was also my father.”
Alia didn’t try to hide her wide-eyed reaction. She was completely astounded. It meant the queen was not Pharaoh’s blood half-sister, but that wasn’t what so disturbed her. What shocked her most was that Neferure would so readily admit it to a former slave she barely knew, thus placing herself in grave danger.
A mischievous light sparked in Neferure’s eyes. “I see I have stunned you, young one.” Again she patted Alia’s hand. “Prepare yourself, then, as I have more to reveal.
“My mother, Queen Hatshepsut, was a very strong and powerful woman. When her husband’s life began to wane, she, with the aid of the priests of Amun, chose Menkhepere to become the next king. To ensure my status and his, Mother arranged our marriage.
“I have not regretted it and bore his children as was my duty … but,” she said the word with such finality that Alia felt a small spurt of fear surge through her veins. “From the very beginning, I have loved another.”
“Another?”
Neferure nodded. “Yes. It is a forbidden love, and you must never disclose my story to anyone in this court.”
Astarte? Is the queen trying to tell me she ...?
Her mind began to race. Had the queen drawn her here to trick her into admitting that despite her unworthiness, she held strong feelings for Pharaoh? Would she be sent back to the chief concubine’s household? Or worse?
“Of course, my royal husband knows of it — he knew long before we were wed. But no one else, save Pharaoh, the man, and now you, know of this.”
The man? I don’t understand!
“The man I love is one who can never hold any status in Egypt. Indeed, if our secret became known he, and likely I, would be put to death.”
Alia’s stomach began to roil. “Mistress, why do you tell me this? A queen’s secret is a great burden.”
Neferure smiled and lovingly brushed Alia’s hair from her eyes. “Yes, it is, young one. I tell you this because you must assume an even greater burden — my husband’s heart. He has told me of his feelings for you, and I approve. If he learns even a small measure of the love I have known all these years, I will be extremely grateful. With each of the succession of concubines, I’d hoped he would find a true and deep love to fill his heart and lighten his task. But it never happened, until now.”
Alia looked away, tears brimming in her eyes. Was it true? Did Pharaoh actually think he loved her? He’d hinted so earlier. Yet she wasn’t sure she could believe it.
“What am I to do, Mistress?”
“Do? — whatever he asks — you won’t be disappointed. Menkhepere is a great Pharaoh, and a fine man. But please, take great care not to reveal your secret or mine. My divine husband has many enemies — more, now he has conquered so many foreign lands. If anyone knew of his love for you, they would use you as a weapon against him. Guard yourself well and know you will always have my protection.
“Now, it is late,” she stood, dismissing Alia, albeit gently, “and past time for my massage. Sleep well, young one. Hopefully, tonight you will not be troubled by your dreams.”
“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you for trusting me — I will never betray you or Pharaoh,” she said before bowing low.
“I know, Alia. Go on to your bed.”
At the door, Alia turned and bowed again before slipping through the curtained portal. As she crossed the outer threshold, she passed Ineni, who carried a tray of oils, a sacred blue lotus, and spices. He nodded slightly, but did not speak, and Alia wondered how he always knew the exact time Neferure would need him.
Throughout the night her dreams were filled with a strange painted image of Menkhepere surrounded by a wall of stone. It was the unusual rendering of the image that gave the picture its strangeness, and Alia wished she had some of the scribe’s inks so she could try to copy it for herself. It was perhaps the only thing she truly missed since being cast from her old life. With her father’s permission and under the guidance of his scribe, she’d learned a little of the art of drawing and painting.
When she awoke, a great commotion had broken out within the palace. A group of dissidents had been captured within the city of Thebes, and soldiers were ordered to search not only the palace, but also all the homes, temples, and the market between the palace and the river for those who escaped.
Like the others of the queen’s household, Alia stood in silence while the soldiers searched through the chambers and questioned all the occupants for signs of espionage. She tried not to be afraid, but she’d come to Thebes as a slave, and she’d heard whispers that the suspected criminals might hail from her homeland.
“Do not fear,” Ineni murmured in her ear as the soldiers moved up the line of women. “Just answer their questions with honesty. The gods protect those who speak the truth.”
She nodded, but still found her voice wanting when the soldiers began their questions.
“Your name?” asked a large soldier, with a very long dagger strapped to his hip, as he looked her over with black eyes that seemed to consume her.
“A—Alia.”
“Are you a slave or freedwoman?”
“Freedwoman.”
He nodded to the man beside him, who sported similar weapons and the same eager eyes. “How long have you resided in Thebes?”
“I was brought as a hostage slave four moons ago. Pharaoh freed me and permitted me to join service in the queen’s house.”
“Are you married or betrothed?”
“No.”
The second man smirked and ran a hand down the front of his body suggestively. “It can be arranged.”
Alia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.
Ineni stepped forward and bowed. “This one is under the queen’s protection.”
The soldier moved to loom over Ineni, breathing into his face. “That’s not my concern, eunuch. Freedwomen can choose. Or is she already someone’s whore?” Droplets of the soldier’s spittle sprayed Ineni’s face, but he wasn’t cowed by the soldier’s aggression; instead, he wore his dignity like a badge of
power.
“That is the quite enough, soldier.”
All color drained from the soldier’s face the instant he heard Pharaoh’s voice.
Every head in the chamber turned to see Pharaoh stride across the room until he stood before the soldier, who shook visibly. Pharaoh’s amber gaze glowed with rage, though his manner remained outwardly calm. All the servants immediately dropped to lie facedown on the floor at the feet of their king. Alia followed suit. The company of soldiers each went down on one knee and bowed very low.
“Report to the audience hall, soldier. When I return you can explain why you treat Queen Neferure’s people with such disrespect.”
Bowing until his forehead all but brushed the stone floor, the soldier murmured his contrition before turning and hurrying to the exit.
Pharaoh glanced at Alia, and then the row of women, one by one. Finally, he focused on the commander of the guards. “If any of my great wife’s people are further abused while we search for these assassins, I will hold you responsible, Amenemheb.”
The soldier rose before his king. “As you command, Majesty.”
“Go now to your mistress, ladies — I am sure you have more important duties than to stand about the halls flirting with soldiers.”
A couple of the younger women giggled before they bowed and scurried away.
As Alia turned to follow, Menkhepere caught her eye and bestowed an almost imperceptible smile upon her; then she thought she saw him mouth the word “tonight” before he made his way to Ineni’s side.
She felt the skin on her face and neck grow warm and hoped that none of the other women noticed. But, as they made their way back to the queen’s reception chamber, it became clear that the women were more interested in speculating whether the abusive soldier would be joining the ranks of eunuchs before the sun descended in the west.
Busying herself with the menial tasks of folding fresh garments and fetching aromatic flowers from Neferure’s garden to scent the rooms, the tension within her grew rapidly. She wasn’t ignorant of the ways of men and mating; her mother had instructed her in what a man expected and did when he mated. She’d said sometimes his hands would be gentle and the experience almost pleasurable, though most times it was not. And during the march to Thebes Alia had seen what happened to some of the other captives — how the soldiers brutally tore at their hair and skin and invaded their bodies, sometimes several at once, or one after another to leave the poor girl crying and bleeding and in great pain. She’d also seen one of those women steal the soldier’s blade and take her own life rather than endure a second assault.
And now Alia knew that Neferure would not stand in Pharaoh’s way, the reality of being used was upon her. Strange emotions warred with the fear inside her. Part of her wanted to run straight into Menkhepere’s arms and freely give whatever he might ask. But the other part — the part that recalled the times when her mother lay bruised and weeping in their rooms or the horror of the raped captives — that part wished she could escape through the kitchens and never return. Yet even as the thought occurred to her, she realized it would be no different wherever she went. Better the protection of a pharaoh and his great wife than a life of subjugation in the harsh world beyond the palace.
She was so deep in thought as she made her way along the halls she didn’t notice the shadowy figure as it sprang at her from a side corridor.
A muffled “arghh” was the only sound she made as the heavy man covered her mouth with digging fingers and dragged her back into the darkened recess. The sharp fingers dug into her cheeks, muffling any attempt to cry for help. A thick, hairy arm circled her arms and chest, squeezing the air from her lungs until she thought she would most certainly die of suffocation. She kicked and flailed but the man’s hands only tightened their grip.
“Shut up, and listen,” a low voice ground alongside her ear. Then, for good measure, the man lifted her and shook hard, roughly pulling her head backward to nearly break her neck.
He’d told her to listen but it was impossible — all she really heard was the thunder of her own pulse roaring in her ears. Twisting her face, she tried to loosen his arm so she could take in a gulp of air, but the harsh fingers only dug deeper, crushing her jaw.
Alia kicked at him with her heels, but he barely grunted when she connected with his granite-hard shin.
She felt his other hand inch its way upward until it grasped her breast in a brutal hold. A wail of protest bubbled up in her throat, but the strength of his cruel hand stifled it with ease. She kicked harder but he merely squeezed her breast in a show of domination, then pinched her nipple between his filthy nails until a high-pitched squeal of pain and indignation rose in her chest. She heard the front of her gown begin to rip beneath his bruising fingers.
Any remnant of resistance she might have harbored fled before another, more pressing, fear. How ludicrous it now seemed — only moments ago she’d worried and fantasized about how she’d fare in the hands of Pharaoh — and now she was faced with the probability that she’d be raped and murdered right here in this deserted chamber within the walls of Pharaoh’s house.
Her attacker released her breast, only to circle her body with his crushing arm. Like an iron band, his arm held her immobile against him; she couldn’t breathe, and her hands tingled from lack of blood.
Knowing her attacker could snap her neck like a dry reed if she struggled further, Alia allowed herself to go slack in his arms as she willed her pounding heart to slow.
“That’s better,” the voice snarled. “Now choose — do you want to die or will you be still and listen?” She gave as much of a nod as his hold would permit. Her lungs burned with the need for air, and the world around her began to tilt and buzz.
“Good. Now, listen very carefully,” the voice dropped to a mere whisper, and Alia now had to strain to hear through the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. “Do not scream. Make no sound, just listen.”
For several seconds more he crushed her against him, then, slowly, the grip on her face and chest lessened, and she drew in a deep, searing breath. The urge to cough and cry and scream coalesced into a faint, mewling whimper.
He shook her until her teeth snapped together with a sickening crunch. “Shut up — this is a warning, so listen well. There are plans and you must not betray them. First the queen will die — then the usurper they call Pharaoh. You will be called when you are needed, and you will do as commanded in memory of your family, or others will also die for your betrayal. Just as you will surely die ... in the most painful way you can imagine. You have a duty, and you must obey. Say one word to anyone of this — and they will die all the sooner, as will many others. Do you understand?”
When she didn’t answer, he gripped her breast and twisted until she nearly cried out. Then he repeated the words in a low growl. “Do ... you ... understand?”
A fiery blade seemed to cut across her breast — it felt as if he’d ripped it from her chest. She tried to nod but she felt herself fainting. The world began to hum so loud she no longer heard his ugly voice.
Chapter 6
A familiar sound drifted across her consciousness. “That’s enough, I think — she appears to be waking.”
Neferure’s melodic voice caressed her. The words themselves didn’t matter, Alia just needed to hear that gentle sound, one that offered safety and comfort.
“Open your eyes, young Alia.”
The command was one she wanted to resist, but knew she couldn’t. When she lifted her lids, Alia saw Neferure and Ineni hanging over her, each wearing a concerned frown.
“One of the priests found you lying near the eunuch’s quarters. Your face is bruised and bleeding — what befell you?”
Alia tried to sit up, but flinched when she put pressure on her arm.
“Here, let me help,” Ineni said before she could move further. He lifted her gently until she sat upright before carefully moving her shift aside to expose her left breast.
“Oh!” the que
en’s hands flew to her mouth. “What caused this?”
Alia looked down to see angry red and purple blotches over her breast and shoulder. As the shift slid lower, more bruising, on her upper arm and around her ribs, became clearly visible.
“Who did this?” Neferure demanded.
“I do not know,” Alia whimpered as the memory exploded across her mind. “A ... a ... m-man ... g-grabbed me when ... I was leav—ving the reception room.” She hiccupped in an attempt to stifle the tears. “I didn’t see ...”
“Did he—?” Neferure began.
Ineni shook his head before his queen could finish framing her question. “It is the first thing I asked myself, Mistress. By Isis’s grace, she was spared.”
“That is a consolation. Tend her, Ineni, I must inform my royal husband that more vigilance is needed against this enemy who hides in our midst. I am sure Rekhmire will also require a full report.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
A short time later Rekhmire stood beside the raised pallet where Alia lay, his face a study in intense thought.
It appeared more than obvious the attack on the girl was meant to intimidate her and send a strong warning to everyone in the palace that security had not only been breached, but breached with ease. Neferure’s guard would certainly need to be augmented from the ranks of the army, and though the idea made him uncomfortable, more priests were needed to add to the number of eyes and ears within the precincts of the royal household. He had his suspicions about the perpetrators of the incident, but as Alia had seen neither the man’s face or mode of dress, he knew he’d have to simply bide his time and keep a closer watch on all concerned. One thing was sure, the girl could not be part of the plot, as he’d initially thought — for no person would subject themselves to the kind of pain that would cause such injuries. At least, no one sane.
And the fear he saw in her eyes was not easily feigned.