“Most especially bureaucrats!” He laughed and led me away.
The festival continued for another hour, as the guests feasted and drank, forgetting the rumors of invasion from the mighty Kourosh of Persia. More than once, I heard voices lifted in heated debate, and not song. They argued over what should be done, what could be done and I blessed our god-king his military training. It was tiring, and I began to lose hope that for tonight at least, I could forget playing politics.
At last the musicians stopped their playing. A great expectant pause arose from those seated nearest the raised dais. Feast goers elbowed their way into a better position of the dais and courtyard.
“What?” I whispered to Praxitlytes. “What is it? Is it him?”
My heart thudded in my chest.
“It appears the game has begun, Rhodopis,” he murmured and grasped my elbow. “Shall we play?”
Chapter Twenty Four
I did not see Pharaoh enter the festival, but the rushing whisper of homage marked his arrival. As the last sistrum jingled and fell silent, I found my nerves tingling with anticipation. At last, I would see this god-king of Egypt. I felt certain he would not live up to my expectations. After all, he was only a man, and I had those in droves.
What did Amasis look like?
I had one quick glimpse of him as he passed through the colonnade, clad in a fine linen shenti that hung to his knees. Armed guards lined him on all sides. He wore a huge pectoral of gold and a headdress that brushed his shoulders, which were unusually broad for an Egyptian. He seemed rather tall, although from my prostrate position, even the craven vizier would’ve seemed a giant. It was a very imposing sight.
The courtyard fell silent. I focused my gaze on the rosy compacted gravel and swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. Would he speak? Would he have an affectation I found annoying or the high, whiny voice of so many of the royal families?
“Rise and be welcomed,” said a deep, gruff voice. “Oh Nile, whose Waters Embrace Us. Be Fruitful. The Exclusive One Shine his Rays upon you Forever!”
I cannot tell you how his voice went through me like a thunderbolt. When the people stood and cheered, nervous sweat broke out on my palms and my stomach fluttered as if I’d swallowed a moth. We sang the prepared song and Amasis spoke another blessing in Egyptian. I had trouble hearing, over the cheers of the people. Then the throngs surged forward, some towards Pharaoh to make obeisance, and some towards the tables laden with food and drink. Slaves flooded into the area, laden with sweetmeats and pastries, wine and beer.
I lost Praxitlytes in the crowds. No matter, I thought, he would find me soon enough. I slipped away to the beverage casks and a slave offered a brass cup filled with sweet red wine.
The musicians struck up a lively tune and crowds parted to make room for the scantily clad Nubian acrobats and dancing girls. I envied them their gay eyes and long limbs, so dark against the white of their linen tunics. They had no pressing concerns to make their steps heavy. I moved to a spot under the open colonnade where I could enjoy the performance without scrutiny from half the noble houses. But even better, across the open courtyard of entertainers, I had a much clearer view of the god-king Amasis.
He was a dynamic man, powerful and dark, and bore his years well. He wore a blue and gold Menes headdress. His white teeth flashed in the torchlight when he smiled, which was not often. I wondered whether he was naturally somber, or just cautious. Heavy kohl, drawn out to his temples, lined his eyes and gave him a very feline appearance. His eyelids were painted with jade. An aquiline nose, hooked like a falcon’s beak, dominated his face, but I did not find it to be unattractive. Quite the contrary.
He looked every inch a warrior; and unlike most of my patrons.
My mouth went dry.
Here was the epitome of a worthy adversary, I thought. I would not be able to wend him round the crook of an elegant finger. For this man was, as my father had been, a fighter at heart.
His was not the softened beauty of a politician or even a lowly craftsman!
Amasis was all long-limbs and hard, angular planes. He was muscular, sitting straight and tall as a soldier would, without shifting on the cushioned seat of his gilded throne. Still, he seemed pleased by the festival, which boded well for Naukratis. A high priest came and Amasis gave over the symbolic crook and flail. The priest deposited them into a finely carved and painted wooden box. The music ended with a flourish and the dancers pattered away to disappear into the night beyond the torches’ glare.
I decided now was the time to make my obeisance, to offer him homage as was his due. I stepped out of the shadows of the column, and wiped my hands on my skirt. My stomach fluttered nervously. How much easier this meeting would be, if he were ugly.
Amasis clapped his hands. “Oo-ay, Oo-ay.” Silence fell. “Well done.”
He signaled the musicians to play again, but the performers had exited. We waited, but they did not return. The crowd began to murmur in puzzlement, for the festival was far from ending. Even the lowliest among us could sense something was amiss. Amasis turned to his advisors.
“Bring on the entertainment,” called a wizened priest. A sheen of sweat marked his face. He clapped his hands, but the dancers did not return.
Amasis’ brow furrowed. Unlike the other nobility he did not puff his chest or hoot his displeasure, the mark of a subdued man. His reserve pleased me. For certain, the upper strata in attendance did not hold to such decorum.
“Where are the girls?” called the princes of Egypt. The minor nobles took up the cry.
“Who is to entertain Him who Shines with the Morning Sun? Who will dance for Nesu Ahmose?” I thought I heard a note of sarcasm in their pleas.
The crowds grew restless, and the musicians picked up the threads of another hymn. Again, no dancers came. The music died away. I saw one of the priests frown and gesture to a set of guards behind the throne. They marched off. The murmurs grew louder. People began to mill about in some confusion, and there was more than one angry face on those closest to Pharaoh.
I scanned the crowd, just in time to see several of the noble princes and princesses smother knowing looks. My heart skipped a beat. Those simpering serpents had designed this plot to embarrass the Pharaoh. And just like senet, I feared an underlying purpose.
For, this was no game. Word would spread that the city of Naukratis had insulted the god-king…oh! I leaned against the limestone column and struggled to see beyond the haze of anger clouding my vision. Pharaoh’s power must be absolute, to hold the public together against the impending threats from invasion. He could declare our city to be razed to the sand dunes. How was this to play out? Who would use this to their advantage?
I risked a glance at Amasis. His eyes seemed to penetrate the crowd, and though I knew he could not see me, hidden half behind the column as I was, a wave of nervous perspiration slicked my hands.
“Is this the best Naukratis can offer?” said a wizened priest. “To offer insult to the gods?”
Amasis stood, his body a stiff arrow of displeasure, on the point of exodus.
Naukratis was doomed.
“Great majesty,” a voice from the crowd called out. My heart stopped. It was Praxitlytes! “Beloved son of Ra, demand that which is worthy of you. The Treasure of Naukratis. She is with us tonight. If only you will bid her dance, she will please you as no other in our city can.”
I had a sudden sinking sensation in my stomach, as if I’d been pushed off a cliff.
“Who has spoken?” asked the priest angrily.
“Yes,” called another voice. The governor! “To honor Him Who Holds the Light, we call for Rhodopis, the Treasure of Naukratis, to dance!”
Whispers behind me crested like a wave, engulfing my ears with their rasping accusations. I saw the commoners on the fringes begin to nod. Some pointed towards me. A few shouted approval. I felt a little dizzy and set my cup of wine on a stool before it sloshed on my fine attire. I motioned to a slave with a large ostrich feat
her fan to come and fan my hot face, but he did not see me.
I put a hand to my head. It could not be! Just as Charaxus had intended so many years before, it seemed now that I should be called to serve upon the Pharaoh’s pleasure.
I would strike that idiot Praxitlytes down for bringing me into this!
Rho-do-pis, some took up the chant. Rho-do-pis. They clapped and chanted until I was sick of my own name.
I turned and put my forehead against the cool pillar and thought I would be sick. Those nearest me grabbed my arms and thrust me forward calling:
“Here she is! Here comes the ‘Treasure of Naukratis’. Make way!”
My cheeks burned. I heard my father’s voice echoing in my memory, like birdsong. You are my treasure, Doricha. Do you hate me for it?
“Papita,” I whispered.
People moved aside. Praxitlytes emerged, whispered loudly, “Go!” and pushed me forward.
I had only a second to gather my courage before I stumbled into the courtyard facing the dais of Amasis.
I stopped and tilted my chin high as I’d been trained. Silence fell like a thunderclap. The chanting and clapping ceased. The governor nodded at me, his face pale and sweating.
Amasis stared. No one spoke a word. Even the cicadas were still. I forced my trembling legs to still beneath my skirts. In truth, all I wanted to do was to flee back to my safe garden and weep to Mara. No, that is not quite true. First, I wished to smite Praxitlytes for his cruel joke. Then, I would run home and weep. Instead, I knelt and bowed so low, the long hanging tail of my hair slithered over my shoulder to tickle the dust and gravel.
“Rise,” Amasis bade me. I could tell nothing from his vocal inflection. Every eye fixed upon us. He looked very stern. “You are she? This…Rhodopis of Naukratis?”
Well, he was a soldier once. I looked him squarely in the eye as my father had taught me, and fixed a smile on my lips. “I am.”
A priest whispered furiously in his ear. A flicker of amusement passed over the Pharaoh’s face and he waved the priest away.
“We have…heard…of the legendary charm that Rhodopis possesses. Will you dance for Pharaoh’s pleasure?”
“No!” said a voice from beyond the throne. With some difficulty, I wrenched away from Amasis’ gaze and saw a royal scribe step forward out of the shadows of the dais. No, not a scribe.
“I say this Greek,” Neferenatu, the Grand Vizier, spat the word as if it were a curse, “is not a suitable tribute to the mighty Nesu, may He live Forever.” He glared at me, and his cheeks were flushed, but in my mind I saw him as he’d appeared in the Sais marketplace--greedy and utterly arrogant atop his curtained litter. He’d wanted me then. “Call for your ladies, Nesu Ahmose, call for our Egyptian Princesses!”
“She is the Jewel of the City,” yelled a man behind me. I think it was a patron from two weeks prior who spoke. “Let her dance.”
“She disgraces Egypt,” called a reedy Egyptian nomarch bedecked in gold. “Where are the royal women? Let them perform!”
Discord reigned over the courtyard, a cacophony of jackals’ howls. I surreptitiously scanned the crowds looking for Praxitlytes so I could give a few angry glares myself, but he had wisely hidden himself from view. At last, Amasis held a hand up for silence. The noise ceased.
“You have been questioned. Will you answer?” Amasis asked me.
I glanced at Neferenatu, who shook his head. His posture was so taut that his earlobes touched his shoulders. I could not think of a way to refuse gracefully and without offending half the court. And the city of Naukratis needed me.
“I dance for the gods’ pleasure, Oh Honored King of Egypt. If it pleases Nesu that I should dance, I shall.” And I bowed again.
Amasis nodded once. “She speaks like a devout subject.” He settled back onto his cushion and crossed his arms over his chest. “I will allow this.”
Angry crimson blotches bloomed in the Vizier’s cheeks and he turned his back to me as the musicians lifted their pipes and drums to play.
I danced as I had never had before. I called on every ounce of my temple training to perform a complicated, and thoroughly Grecian, dance. Somehow I knew in my heart my adulatory tribute would endear me to Amasis, though it might infuriate his vizier.
I spared one brief second to mourn the fact that I had not worn my rose-gold slippers to the festival. Then I was lost in the rhythm, twisting my figure to its best position in time to the music. I twirled and leapt. I let my limbs sway like a graceful willow. Naukratis wished me to honor them with dance--I would do more than that. I used my eyes, my hips, and my smile to entice the Pharaoh. My fingers curled gracefully, my feet skipped through the steps like sunlight upon the Nile. My hair was the fronds of the grasses on the riverbank. My arms were the arch of the waves. I was a woman in her element, and I danced solely for the pleasure of one man—the god-king Amasis.
When the song ended, I froze motionless in position. The silence was deafening. I paused, my arms trembling as I held my stance, and waited for Pharaoh to condemn or applaud me. Every inch of my body tingled in anticipation as Amasis opened his mouth to speak.
“So,” he said, while I drew a shuddering breath. “If she is the treasure of Naukratis, then the city is wealthy beyond belief. Such beauty demonstrates the blessings of the gods. You have done well, Rhodopis of Naukratis. By the Light of Ra, I say it is so.”
The Greeks in the crowd burst into cheering, and I felt my cheeks burn anew at his fine praise. Naukratis was redeemed. Pharaoh could have ruined me forever with the slightest insult, and yet I knew my substantial business would be trebled by the morning.
I reveled in the joy of the crowds, the frown on Neferenatu’s face, and yes, even the smirk of Praxitlytes. He wished to gain notice for himself through me. Well, I would allow him this moment, but he would have much to atone for in my eyes. I beamed at Amasis the god-king, unable to contain my pleasure, and swept a graceful genuflection. He smiled back without showing his teeth and leaned over to speak to his nearest advisor. I peeped through my lashes and read his lips.
“Have her brought to me.”
*** ***
Pharaoh’s apartments in Naukratis were indeed luxurious. I was surprised by how little notice he took of the fine artwork and gilded chests, for I would think a former soldier would appreciate such treasures, having taken spoils of war from afar. He prowled into the room, motioning for the vizier and priests to attend us. I knelt before him and waited for the guards to meld discretely into the background, like shadows. Amasis bade me rise and led me to a low cushioned bench carved in the likeness of a lioness. I sat and then regretted it, for he remained standing over me like a hungry jackal guarding his kill.
The man radiated power. I tried to quell the fluttering in my stomach. We made some simple talk for a time. The weather, perhaps, or the status of the Nile. In truth, I do not recall. Everything seemed to pale around Amasis, as if he was, indeed, the focus of all Egypt. I watched the tilt of his head as we spoke lightly. His look was appraising and direct. It thrilled me. I felt my body go hot and cold by turns, and cursed myself for being so weak.
At length, a servant presented him with a goblet. He sniffed the cup and swallowed before indicating I should be served.
“It seems you have some enemies, as well as admirers.” My heart skipped a beat.
“The same could be said of you, Great One.” I grasped the cup with both my hands to keep them from shaking.
He paused. An awkward silence filled the room.
“You speak plainly,” he said, at last.
I swallowed hard. “My apologies, Oh Great Nesu. I fear it is a fault I have always possessed.” I felt naked and foolish beneath his gaze, though only my shoulder was bared.
Amasis moved towards the bench. “I do not find it a fault.” His body filled the space next to me. He sat, but I could see he was not at all relaxed. The fingers of his hands were curled into a loose fist on the bench between us.
“You a
re beautiful.” He reached up to finger a lock of my hair. I could feel the heat of his hand on my back. “Very beautiful,” he repeated.
I shivered and tucked my skirts around my knees. “The Son of the Sun has many beautiful things.” He frowned again and dropped the lock of my hair. I sighed, inwardly. Curse his soldier’s face, he was so hard to read! Well, if he wanted me to be honest, I would not disappoint him. “Yes, I am.”
He nodded. I could smell the oils and unguents rubbed into his skin. He smelled of sweet almond. “There are many things of beauty in Egypt.” He paused. “Some of them are very deadly.” I wondered if his eyes would be so compelling without the layers of fine cosmetic paint to enhance them.
I did not know how to reply. My pulse raced. One misspoken word could mean disaster. “I am a simple courtesan, Nesu. I do my utmost to take care under the protection of the gods.”
He did not look convinced. “We shall see.”
The heat of his body dared the night air to chill us. My throat grew tight. What would he do with me?
I took a sip of wine. “This is not Grecian, Potent Sword of Ra,” I said, to fill the silence with safe and easy conversation.
“No.” Amasis set his cup aside, untouched. “It is not.” He seemed uncomfortable. “And I do not care for flowering epithets. Speak only plainly to me.”
So, he wished to dispense with formality.
“As you command, Nesu. Do you wish me to lie back now?” I asked. Well, I could not be more plain than that! Perhaps the sooner this night ended, the sooner I could go home.
“I have many lovely women to please me. And not one of them do I trust. No, I have no need to lie with you, at present.” He smoothed with the pleats of his white shenti.
“Then how might I please you?” I asked.
He did not respond.
I could hear the sounds of the festival outside, the joyous songs and laughter. I wondered if anyone guessed at how the ‘Treasure of Naukratis’ failed miserably to seduce the god-king. Oh, the shame! I focused on the lovely apartment, the rich furnishings scattered about the chamber, anything than to face his probing eyes.
HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods Page 29