Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  This relieved him despite the new danger, as he’d questioned Menkhepere’s wisdom in becoming enamored of the girl. He didn’t begrudge his king the possibility of some small measure of happiness, yet at the same time, he knew she could be used as a weapon against Pharaoh should his feelings about the girl became known within the palace. Secrecy would be paramount now.

  “I shall report to Pharaoh.” He faced the guards and glared at each in turn. “Do not allow anyone to enter or leave this chamber until I return.”

  The three guards nodded solemnly before stationing themselves, two by the door and one near the window that opened out onto the queen’s garden. Ineni remained by her side, bathing her wounded body with a preparation of herbs and flowers, which eased both the pain and the swelling that had begun to throb with a vengeance.

  “Alas, I can do nothing for the ugly discoloration,” he said. “Only time will heal that.”

  After packing his supplies into a small, carved box, Ineni found a cup and filled it with water, handing it to Alia with the order to drink.

  “Thank you, Ineni.” Ever obedient, she drank the water, then lay back to await Rekhmire’s return. When he did, he wasn’t alone. Two new guards accompanied him, as did Menkhepere.

  In keeping with the need for discretion, Pharaoh merely glanced at her and her wounds before speaking quietly with Ineni and Rekhmire at length. Then Rekhmire ordered everyone to leave the chamber so they could talk to Alia alone.

  Menkhepere lowered himself to sit alongside Alia on the pallet and took her hand. “I know you must be frightened, Little Flower. But I want you to tell us everything that happened from the moment you left the audience hall this afternoon. Leave nothing out. If we are to stop this plot that seems to be at work in the palace, we must know every detail.”

  She tried to nod her head, but found her neck and throat now hurt as well.

  “I was walking back to the queen’s rooms, I had been placing fresh flowers and was deep in thought. I didn’t really pay attention to my surroundings—”

  “Did you see or hear anything that told you someone else lurked in the hall?”

  Alia shook her head. “No, as I said, my mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me back between two columns, into the darkened recess. It was too dark to see clearly. He put his hand on my face over my mouth,” she demonstrated what she meant, “and his other arm crushed my chest and arms. When I struggled he gripped me tighter until I couldn’t breathe—” Her eyes began to water as the memory of her own helplessness came crashing back. She started to tremble, and Menkhepere moved closer to cradle her in his arms. A sense of safety and belonging immediately filled her.

  “Take it slowly, Alia. Be certain,” Menkhepere murmured in a low voice that seemed to float about her like the promise of a gentle breeze in summer. Another shudder passed through her, but after a few moments, as his warmth and protection seeped into her, she began to relax.

  She explained everything the attacker said and did up to the point when he gave his warning. Then she faltered — could she risk revealing the attacker’s true intent? Would he know and kill them even sooner, as he’d promised? But could she risk not telling? Alia didn’t want either Pharaoh or Neferure to die. Surely, if they were warned, they could better protect themselves — couldn’t they?

  Pharaoh felt her tense again and knew she withheld further information that might prove vital. He looked up at Rekhmire and saw he’d noted her tension, as well.

  “Alia,” Rekhmire said in a gentle tone she’d never heard from the vizier before, “whatever else happened, we must know. There are secret guards who can protect you. If he threatened your life, we can ensure he cannot come close to you ever again. Don’t be afraid. What you tell us will only help us catch him quicker.”

  Her whole body quivered. “It isn’t my life that makes me fear! He said Pharaoh and the queen would die, sooner than planned, if I told. He said I must follow their instructions in the name of my family.” Tears began to trickle, unheeded, down her cheeks. “It must mean one of them still lives!”

  “Else, he merely wanted you to think it,” Rekhmire mused. “What happened next? Did you see anything that might help us learn his identity — a mark on his arm or hand? His clothing? Maybe he had a strangeness to his voice or a peculiar smell. Take some time and think.”

  Pharaoh ran his hand up and down her arm in a soothing motion, and she felt every nerve react. She quivered again — though this time fear wasn’t the only cause.

  “I cannot remember much else, except he got angrier the longer he spoke and began to hurt me more and more.” A whimper escaped her lips and her eyes welled, though she desperately wanted to hide her pain. “And when he tried to tear off my breast ... I ...”

  Pharaoh enclosed her in his arms and rocked her as if he’d never let her go again. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and suddenly she could no longer hold back her sobs. Her tears overflowed onto his bare, hairless chest, trickling in tiny rivulets down his sun-bronzed skin.

  Over her head, Pharaoh glared at his vizier before whispering, “This must never be permitted to happen again. Gather your most trusted men and the priests of Amun we know are faithful. Neferure must also be protected. It might be easiest if she and Alia remain in the same suite at all times, so the guards can watch both.

  “Now, let us call Ineni and have him give Alia a sleeping draft — if she sleeps well, she will heal more quickly. Tell Neferure I would speak with her — I will come to her private rooms as soon as I have spoken with my personal bodyguard. At least this narrows down our search. The soldiers have not permitted anyone to enter or leave the palace since before Re reached his daily climax. Whoever did this still hides within the palace walls, and we will catch those responsible — very soon, or the guards will pay with their lives.” He seethed with an anger that would have made Alia shudder had she beheld his face.

  Rekhmire nodded gravely and made his way from the room.

  Pharaoh lifted Alia’s face and wiped away a teardrop with his thumb. Slowly, sensuously, he raised his thumb to his lips and tasted the saltiness, all the while holding her gaze captive with his. “I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again. I will protect you—”

  Ineni’s return prevented whatever else he meant to say, but she smiled up into his eyes, showing that she trusted him to keep his word.

  “Take her to stay in the queen’s private suite as soon as the guard arrives to escort you. Stay with them both until I come to speak with your mistress.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Ineni bowed deeply and stood beside Alia as Menkhepere rose.

  Menkhepere was slow to relinquish her hand, reluctant to trust anyone else with her safety. He wished he could hide her in his own suite and keep her by his side at all times, but he knew that until her attacker was caught, his presence would only increase the danger to her. His growing feelings made them both more vulnerable, and his enemies would certainly use any means available to defeat him. Now wasn’t the time to let his desire for the girl dictate his actions. Her safety, and that of Neferure and his sons and daughters, was his most important concern. Later, once the immediate threat was over, only then could he afford to explore these new emotions that surged through his chest every time he looked upon Alia’s innocent face.

  “I have bad news, Majesty — the bodies of the spies we planted in Sitiah’s house were discovered by priests attending the path to the necropolis. Sitiah’s staff denies all knowledge of the men’s whereabouts for over a week. The priests say they carried grave-robbers' tools.”

  Anger surged through Menkhepere’s chest, constricting his breath. They were good and loyal men and did not deserve the cloud of betrayal hanging over their deaths.

  “Rekhmire, it is clear that our enemies are more ruthless and better informed than we first suspected. We cannot wait for them to make another move. I think we should flush them out — perhaps give them a target they will find irresistible.
”

  The vizier frowned. Although his king had an uncanny ability to foil his enemies’ plans, he also feared the day Menkhepere’s luck ran out, god or no god. “How do you propose we do that, Majesty?”

  Menkhepere motioned that Rekhmire sit beside him in the queen’s chair.

  “It is time I inspected the pylon being erected at Armant. We set off tomorrow — just a small contingent of soldiers and have another band of our most trusted fighters disguised as merchants. Send word ahead, so our enemy has the opportunity to track us. If he does and makes any attempt on my person, we shall ambush him. I suspect he will likely make his move between the river and Armant.

  “You will remain here to guard Neferure and her people.” He waved away Rekhmire’s attempt to protest. “I need someone here that I know will protect my family. Amenmose will attend me while I travel.”

  Although Rekhmire appeared far from pleased, Menkhepere knew he would not dispute his king’s orders.

  All the guards and priests made it difficult to move about in the small chambers of the queen’s suite. Every time Alia turned around, it seemed as if someone watched her. More than a week had passed, and still there’d been no word of her attacker’s whereabouts. And although she felt safe within Neferure’s private suite, she dearly wished to spend some time alone in the sunshine of the gardens. But neither she nor the queen nor any of the royal children were permitted beyond the precincts of the suite until both Menkhepere and Rekhmire declared it safe.

  Since the attack she’d only seen Menkhepere once, when he came to inform them of the precautions he’d ordered for their security. Otherwise, Rekhmire met with Neferure daily to report progress on the soldiers’ investigation.

  Ineni told her that Pharaoh had left the city but didn’t explain where he’d gone or why. If it hadn’t been for Nany’s daily visits, Alia would have been very lonely indeed. Oh, the queen and her ladies spent time with her, but it always seemed so tense within the rooms — with everyone in such close quarters, no one could relax and enjoy their time together.

  Today, the instant Nany arrived, Alia worried that Nany had also been attacked. When the girl entered the room where she and Alia often spent their time painting pictures on scraps of linen, she walked very gingerly. Her upper lip was torn and one eye swollen. Relentless questioning revealed she also carried awful welts across her back, but it took many minutes of coaxing before Nany would explain exactly how she’d been injured.

  Once she’d finally told the story, Alia became so angry she wanted to march straight into the adjoining chambers to see the queen and demand Nany be removed from Sitiah’s household. It seemed that Sitiah had enjoyed great sport, whipping the girl until she agreed to perform sexual favors for one of her guests — but Nany refused to say exactly what those favors were or who the guest was. She appeared ashamed, as if she had somehow brought it upon herself. And though she tried to put on a brave face, Alia knew that inside Nany quaked with terror.

  Yet the girl wouldn’t allow Alia to plead her case before Neferure.

  “Please, Alia, if you tell, Sitiah will say I did these things to myself, or that I have been seducing the other servants. I have seen it before — when Tiaa complained about her treatment, she was sent to the whorehouse. Later, one of the older women said Tiaa had been murdered. Two young boys have recently disappeared, too. No one knows what happened to them, though some of the women whisper of drownings. Sitiah will tire of me soon and until then I can bear anything. I don’t want to be sent away from the palace to die, please, I beg you, do not say a word!”

  Against her better judgment, Alia acquiesced, but as Nany limped from the suite, fear for her friend swelled inside her chest. If ever she got to speak to Pharaoh again, she’d surely ask for Nany to become a servant in the queen’s house.

  Only a moment later, just as she gathered her inks and paints to return them to their box, a shadow fell across her back. She felt the presence more than saw it. When she glanced up, her heart began to race. Pharaoh stood before her, as tall and proud as the last time she’d seen him. His white kilt glowed brightly in the afternoon light, accentuating the warm tan of his skin. The kohl around his tawny eyes made them seem large and forbidding.

  His gaze locked with hers, and for several seconds the world tilted around her. She only broke contact when the fine brush she held slipped from her fingers. She instantly bent to retrieve it before the ink seeped into the stone.

  “Greetings, Alia.” He looked down at the picture sitting on the bench alongside her — a copy of part of a hunting scene that adorned the wall in Neferure’s private audience room. “Did you paint this?”

  She blushed as she nodded. “Yes, Majesty, it is but a poor imitation, something to fill the time until I am again permitted to leave these rooms.”

  Pharaoh sat on the bench beside her. “Have I been gone so long that you have forgotten our pact?”

  “Pact?” She frowned — she remembered no pact.

  “You promised to address me by my given name when we are alone.”

  She glanced about the room then dropped her gaze to her toes, flustered. “Pardon, Maj—Menkhepere,” she corrected in a soft whisper; the name still tasted strange on her tongue. “Since you left the city there have been so many people crowding these rooms. I have taken great care to behave with the utmost propriety.”

  A smile etched itself across his face, and the burden of kingship seemed to lift for a moment.

  “It is unfortunate, but we have not found your attacker, and until we do I am not willing to risk any of my people. Rekhmire hoped the assassin would follow my retinue up river and make his move. Alas, he did not, so we know little more than what you have told us. Thus, you must remain as a prisoner. Is it such a hardship?” He reached out a hand to brush her cheek.

  “No, I understand the need. And the queen is so like my mother, I feel safe and happy when I am near her.”

  “That pleases me greatly.” He stood and picked up the swatch of linen she’d been working on just before he arrived. “May I have this?”

  Alia’s face grew warm; she felt stunned and embarrassed that he’d ask for her childish handiwork. “Everything I have is yours, but this is just the scribble of a girl who is bored and lonely, surely I can try to paint a more worthy gift, Majesty.”

  When he frowned at her use of his formal address, she covered her lips and tried not to giggle. “Sorry — I forgot.”

  “You are forgiven.” He fingered the small piece of linen; a wistful expression fleetingly crossed his face. “This is from your hands, thus it is indeed worthy. But I ask it of you for another purpose. It will be my signal to you — if, at any time I wish to see you, I will send this with a trusted servant. You may feel safe following him to meet with me.”

  Her eyes dropped to the floor at his feet.

  Pharaoh stepped forward and lifted her chin slowly until her eyes were caught in his golden gaze. “Will you meet with me if I summon you, Little Flower?” He allowed his hand to trace along the fine skin of her neck until it came to rest on the pulse point at the base of her throat. The corners of his lips quirked when she shivered her response.

  “I am ever yours to command.”

  With deliberateness, he shook his head. “No, Alia — in this the choice always belongs to you.” Menkhepere’s pupils grew until they almost swallowed his amber irises.

  “Yes, Majesty,” she murmured, caught in an irresistible thrall, “I will come if ever you summon me.”

  How he wished he could hold her close and protect her as she should be protected. Love her as she should be loved. He let his eyelids fall as he cemented the memory of her sweet face in his mind. He didn’t know when, or even if, he’d have the chance to summon her any time soon. A violent rebellion had begun in one of the northern territories, and already his generals were preparing the barges. It might be only a matter of days before he must leave her again.

  Rekhmire paced up and down the short corridor outside the qu
een’s rooms waiting for Pharaoh to join him.

  “Ah, Rekhmire,” Menkhepere said as he exited Neferure’s reception room, “I hope you didn’t wait too long — I needed a moment to speak to Alia.”

  With a curt bow, the vizier stepped into stride beside his king.

  Menkhepere veered toward the open courtyard that overlooked the city. “What is the state of preparations?”

  “The barges are being stocked with supplies for the march overland, and many horses are being prepared. Your golden chariot is already aboard the royal barge. Amenmose has gathered the forces. Weapons have been supplemented. We simply await the feast of the new moon — the priests say this is the most fortuitous time for the campaign to embark.”

  Pharaoh nodded with satisfaction. Three more days — perhaps he would have the opportunity to see Alia, after all.

  “Several ambassadors arrived this morning and seek an audience. And the chief concubine has sent a message that she also wishes to attend you before you leave.”

  Pharaoh stifled his groan. Sitiah was the last woman he wished to see. For months now, he’d successfully avoided confronting the woman. Her barrenness had become obvious, and he tired of her attempts to bear his royal sons. The last time she had sought him out, he'd politely refused her advances, feigning a disturbance of the stomach. He knew Sitiah had many men fawning over her supposed beauty, but nothing about the woman attracted him in the least, so he remained content to turn a blind eye to her various liaisons. As a matter of fact, it suited him that she assuaged her passions elsewhere, despite any impropriety.

  “What does she want?” he asked the vizier, knowing full well what his answer would be.

  “The chief concubine did not confide her reasons, Majesty,” Rekhmire replied, but the look on his face said more than enough.

  “When do the priests of Amun require my presence?”

  Rekhmire smiled. “When would it most please you, Majesty?”

  Breathing deeply, Menkhepere calculated in his mind. “Tell the priests I will be there at the eighth hour, that should leave too little time for Sitiah to attempt seduction. I shall go to her as soon as I’ve changed into more formal attire — follow once you have informed the chief priest. That should interrupt proceedings in a timely manner.”