The Concubine’s Tale

by Jennifer Colgan

  “Can I cook? Or where do I excel?” One hand toyed with the top button of her blouse, purposely drawing his attention to the V of soft skin beneath the dark silk.

  “Yes.” He licked his lips in anticipation of the answer.

  “I make an award-winning coq au vin.”

  “One of my favorites.” The look she gave him was skeptical but playful. He laughed. “I’m serious. I love it.”

  She ran one finger around the frosted rim of her glass, and her expression sobered. “What else do you love?”

  “I’d love to hear more about Nayari. What do you suppose the life of a concubine was like in 1200 BC?”

  “Well, there’s not much in the scroll about her day-to-day life, but the details of the particular incident that the scroll describes are quite vivid, thanks to the interpretation of Layton ’s translators. They may have indulged their creativity a bit, though.”

  Grant leaned in a little closer, his curiosity piqued. “I can’t wait to hear it. Start from the beginning.”

  “Is Ammonptah displeased with me?” Nayari wrung her hands and paced the confines of the small salon at the back of her master’s house. Around her, servants gathered her few belongings and packed them into woven baskets.

  Ammonptah’s head wife, Baakah, supervised the work, her painted lips set in a satisfied line.

  “Not displeased. He has merely asked that you travel to Coptos to meet him.” Baakah’s explanation rang false, but Nayari dared not question her. “You will reside at the temple there until Ammonptah arrives.”

  The temple? Nayari had never lived in a temple. Why would Ammonptah send her there? “Will I be coming back?” she asked when the servants began carrying the baskets from the room.

  Baakah nodded absently. When the servants left, she took Nayari’s slender hands in her own and squeezed them. The jewels on her wrinkled fingers dug into Nayari’s flesh, but her dark eyes held sympathy for once. “Be well,” she said.

  The servants escorted Nayari out of the salon and through the house, which would no longer be her home. Just beyond the low stone wall that skirted the courtyard, a small caravan waited. A stern-faced warrior stepped forward and bowed to Baakah, then to Nayari. He put his hand on hers and drew her toward the wheeled cart into which the servants were piling her belongings.

  She looked up into dark eyes ringed with kohl, and something tightened in her belly. She placed her hand on her stomach, beneath the woven belt that girdled her long, flowing dress. The emptiness there began to fill with fear and a strange form of excitement when the warrior’s gaze met hers.

  “Who are you?” she dared to ask. She’d never seen a man so tall and broad-shouldered. His skin, a shade darker than her own honey tone, glistened with fragrant oil. Bronzed bands circled his upper arms as if to keep his muscles imprisoned and controlled. A collar of beaten gold hung across his upper chest.

  “I serve Ammonptah. That’s all you need to know.”

  Nayari glanced back at the house. Baakah hurried across the courtyard and went inside, shutting the door behind her. No one remained outside to see her off. Even the servants who had packed her baskets were gone.

  With a heavy heart and a hot ache in the back of her throat, Nayari climbed into the cart. The oxen tethered to its front shuffled their feet and made noises of bovine complaint when the warrior urged them to motion. Nayari drew the shawl from around her shoulders and covered her head against the glare of the afternoon sun. She huddled there, swaying with the movement of the cart, staring at the warrior’s broad back and narrow waist and trying to keep herself from crying.

  “Let me guess, Baakah didn’t like Nayari and arranged to have her removed as competition for Ammonptah’s affections?” Grant asked when Cait paused for breath. She’d been transported by her narrative, and the bustling restaurant had seemed to fade away. Grant’s question brought her back to reality.

  “You know a lot of Egyptian history. I’m impressed. I’ve spent a lot of time reading the journals that came with the scroll. Layton paid a lot of money to his researchers to get the details right. He must have had them working on it for years.”

  “It’s unusual to find a story about the life of a concubine. I know back then the Egyptians were meticulous record keepers, but it’s more common to find a ledger of household accounts than a diary.”

  Cait nodded. “ Layton believed this story was written as both a warning and a confession of sorts. It seems as though someone wanted future generations to know what happened to Nayari, so she wouldn’t be forgotten.”

  “I bet the warrior never forgot her.”

  Cait looked up and thanked the waiter who had returned with appetizer salads and a basket of fragrant rolls. Her insides trembled at the thought of the young Nayari being cast from her home by the man who owned her. “As Ammonptah’s head wife, Baakah had quite a bit of leverage in the household and enjoyed a coveted place in society. If she didn’t like Nayari, she could have arranged for the girl to fall out of favor with her husband, but this was more complicated. It was Ammonptah who chose Nayari to be moved to the temple in Coptos.”

  “That was the temple dedicated to Min, correct?” Grant’s eyes flashed, and Cait wondered what else he knew about the ancient Egyptian god of male fertility and sexual prowess.

  “That’s right. Ammonptah became a disciple of Min later in his life, apparently around the time he decided to maneuver himself into Seti II’s throne. It would have been unusual for a non-religious figure to live at a temple, but apparently Ammonptah had enough influence to be granted a special favor.”

  “Nayari was a sacrifice?”

  Cait shook her head and took another sip of her drink. “No. Min preferred wheat or lettuce as an offering, and some speculate on the sensual rites and dances that were held to honor him and invoke his blessing on a man’s…performance.”

  Dark eyes locked on hers, and she felt a flutter in her chest. She imagined the distant beat of drums and naked worshippers writhing together on the temple floor. Maybe a practical demonstration would be in order-later.

  What was she thinking? Had those few sips of martini already gone to her head? Breaking one rule was enough. She didn’t dare try breaking them all in one night, especially with Grant Pierson. She never would have imagined enjoying dinner with the man, but here, away from the gallery, he seemed different. The arrogant businessman had become charming and attentive. Was it only due to his interest in the scroll?

  “Tell me more. Ammonptah had some nefarious plan in store for Nayari, didn’t he?”

  “According to the scroll, yes. But it took her a while to find out exactly what.” Cait took another sip of her drink and continued her story.

  The journey to Coptos was tedious. Only the warrior seemed unfazed by the heat and the dry dust that rose along the road as they plodded along. His posture never wavered, and he slowed his stride only long enough to water the oxen and ask Nayari if she needed to relieve herself. She declined the offer and pulled her shawl farther over her face to distance herself from his disconcerting stare and to hide from the prying eyes of the people they passed along the way.

  She imagined what the other travelers must think of her, being led along in an old cart with the stiff-backed warrior trudging ahead of her. She felt like an outcast, and she began to hate Ammonptah for visiting this torture upon her.

  She thought back to the last time she’d been with him and wondered if she’d done something to make him dislike her.

  Then it occurred to her that Ammonptah probably thought she was barren! She’d been in his household for several years now and, at age twenty, she had yet to bear a child for him. Obviously he was sending her to the temple to ask for a blessing of fertility. That had to be it. That thought eased her apprehension somewhat. A blessing from the gods would certainly help. Then she could return home, fully prepared to serve Ammonptah’s household properly.

  Her spirits buoyed now, she straightened her spine and clapped her hands to get the w
arrior’s attention. “What’s your name, servant of Ammonptah? I must know what else to call you if you are to be my servant as well.”

  He stopped mid-step, and the thick muscles of his back bunched before he turned to her. “I am Ammonptah’s servant. Not yours.”

  “I demand to know your name.”

  He turned away from her and began walking again. The oxen snorted, and their tails flicked in unison to dislodge the flies that had settled on their angular backsides.

  “I am a servant of Ammonptah.” He said nothing more until sunset.

  “He didn’t like her, I gather.” Thanks to Cait’s colorful description, Grant had a clear picture of the scene in his mind. The strong warrior reduced to babysitting a spoiled princess for his master. It sounded like a dishonorable job reserved for someone who’d screwed up royally and needed some humiliation to keep him humble.

  “On the contrary.” Cait grinned and popped a bite of her smoked salmon entrée into her mouth. Grant watched her lips again, tantalized. Did she taste sweet or spicy? How many buttons between her cleavage and her skirt? “According to the scroll, the warrior was smitten with Nayari the moment he saw her. She was considered very beautiful in an exotic way. Her skin was light, and her eyes were the color of dark honey. Her hair was probably black, long and straight and shiny. He, of course, was forbidden to think of her as anything other than cargo to be transported at the whim of Ammonptah.”

  “Did he know why she was being brought to the temple? Did he wonder if he might get to see her dance for the fertility god?”

  “He didn’t know yet. It wasn’t his place to question. However, he was clever and strong-willed and not exactly sure that he supported Ammonptah’s ambitious bid for the throne.”

  “He was a man of integrity.” Grant sipped his wine and tipped his glass to touch Cait’s. “To integrity.”

  “Of course, it wasn’t a time in history when integrity was well received. Political alignment was everything. Wealth and power were the only avenues to a comfortable life and, as a soldier, he had to be on the winning side to reap the rewards of his station. He had to bide his time.”

  “But he had the hots for his boss’s woman.”

  “One of his boss’s many women. A young, beautiful woman who was about to need his help desperately.”

  “Don’t leave me hanging. I need to know more.” At his prompt, Cait’s eyes seemed to lose focus, as if she were seeing into the past as she described it to him. Grant kept his gaze on her and let the rhythm of her words transport him once again to another world.

  A river of stars dusted the sky when Nayari and her stoic escort finally reached the temple at Coptos. The heat of the day had faded, and Nayari shivered in her thin shawl. The warrior reached up to help her down from the cart. When she laid her hand in his, the heat of his skin felt like fire. His black eyes smoldered when his gaze met hers, and once again she felt a jolt of unexplained anticipation.

  Acutely aware of her movements now, she slid her legs down and pointed her sandaled feet at the ground. As she lowered herself from the cart, her billowy skirt rose up her legs, revealing the thin leather ties that crisscrossed up her calves.

  His rough fingers slid upward along the curve of her hip to steady her.

  “Thank you, servant,” she said, mimicking the tone she’d often heard Baakah use with lower members of the household.

  He dropped his hand and turned without a reply. Nayari thought of ordering him to remove her belongings from the cart just to see how he might react, but she didn’t have a chance. At that moment two priests emerged from the temple, and behind them came two women. All were bare-chested and wore thick belts of beaten gold and linen skirts. Their bare feet made no sound on the cool sandstone pathway that led into the temple, and they said nothing to their guests.

  The four people bowed to the warrior and then to Nayari, and the women began removing the baskets from the back of the cart.

  One of them touched Nayari’s shoulder and beckoned her to follow. Uncertain, she glanced at the warrior, and he nodded.

  Would he leave her here? Would Ammonptah be waiting inside? Nayari pushed the disturbing questions out of her mind and followed the women into the dimly lit interior of the temple.

  Just inside the entrance of the temple, the women stopped and ushered Nayari toward a narrow passageway to the right. Over their shoulders she saw into the cavernous main room of the temple, and she craned her neck for a better view of the forbidden space.

  “You can’t enter there,” one of the women whispered. She placed a firm hand again on Nayari’s shoulder and guided her into the corridor where oil lamps lit the deeply inscribed walls. “Only priests and acolytes may attend Min. You will stay back here in the special chambers.”

  As she followed the women deeper inside the temple, Nayari gazed at the inscriptions that covered the walls. Though she couldn’t read everything, the pictographs were fairly explicit, and they set her imagination alight.

  Here a man knelt in supplication at an altar while a woman anointed his head with oil. There a woman and a man embraced while above them the Chief of Heaven, Min himself, blessed their marriage union.

  Nayari leaned closer to the next pictograph. This was a portrait of the god, a tall man with a beautiful face and a strong physique. Protruding from his waist at the juncture of his closed legs was the longest, straightest erection Nayari had ever seen.

  He held his arrow-like member in one hand and pointed it at a group of worshippers who offered him sheaves of wheat in return for his blessing.

  The paintings and carvings held Nayari’s attention and made her think of Ammonptah. Her master was the only man she’d ever seen in such a state of arousal, and his penis was certainly no match for that of the god.

  Warmth rose to her cheeks when she found herself wondering if Ammonptah’s member was normal or unusually small for a man of his age and stature. She thought of the warrior, with his bulging muscles and glistening dark skin, and wondered if his cock might look more like Min’s, long and straight and powerful.

  “You’ll sleep here.” One of the women gestured Nayari into a small room set off the corridor at the back of the temple. “We will bring you food and help you bathe.”

  “When will Ammonptah be coming?” she asked in a hushed voice. While she respected the sanctity of the temple, Nayari’s insides trembled at the thoughts she’d been having about the warrior. She covered her mouth with her fingers, as if that might quiet the giddiness in her voice.

  “We will inform you,” the other woman responded. “Rest now.”

  Nayari turned to survey her quarters and frowned. The small bed held rough blankets and a thin mattress. She sniffed at the musty odor of it. An oil pot sat on a ledge carved into the far wall, and a small wick burned within it. The rushes on the floor looked wilted as though they’d not been changed before her arrival.

  This is only temporary, she told herself with a sigh. Ammonptah will be here soon.

  Cait looked up from her dessert, a decadent chocolate confection laced with liquor-soaked fruit. She felt Nayari’s anticipation and her fear, wondering if her master would come for her and see that she was properly blessed by the fertility god, and at the same time entertaining forbidden thoughts about the dark warrior.

  Grant filled her wine glass and studied her intently. His gaze was languid and warm. “What was the warrior doing while she waited in her little temple room?”

  Gaining control over her emotions, Cait smiled wickedly and took another succulent bite of dessert. “He was thinking about her and trying not to betray the trust Ammonptah had put in him.”

  “He wanted her.”

  Cait nodded. “The sultry atmosphere of the temple didn’t help. The rites of Min were thought to be quite explicit.”

  Grant leaned closer again, and Cait floated on the heady scent of his cologne. She smiled when he loosened his tie and wondered if the rest of her tale would have a greater effect on him.

&nbs
p; “The warrior took up his post outside of Nayari’s room as he’d been instructed. Only a woven screen covered the doorway, so he could hear what went on inside. The women returned to bathe her, and his imagination ran wild. By the time he encountered Nayari again, he was half out of his mind with desire.”

  When the female acolytes returned, they brought a bowl of perfumed water, cloths to bathe her, and a tray of bread and roasted meat.

  Nayari helped herself to some of the food while the women unlaced her sandals and removed her belt. She sighed as they bathed her feet and legs, and the glorious scent of jasmine enveloped her and calmed her rattled nerves. She lay back against one woman while the other opened the top of her dress and rubbed a fine cloth over her arms and her breasts.

  “Ammonptah will be pleased,” Nayari murmured, trying to keep her thoughts centered on her master. It was difficult, with the sensual feel of the cool cloth riding over her skin, to think of her master’s touch. His hurried movements during the times she’d been called to his service always made her wonder if he truly enjoyed coupling, or if it was more of a chore for him, as it often was for her.

  If Ammonptah had ever touched her like this, bathed her, smoothed her hair, she might long for him now, not as the man who owned her and had the power to send her back home where she belonged, but the man she loved and wanted. Once again, unbidden, her thoughts turned to the warrior. His hands were twice the size of Ammonptah’s, rough from hard work and dark from days spent under the sun. Together his hands could span her waist, and she had no doubt his arms could lift her without effort to settle her over his cock. He could hold her hips in his hands, his long fingers inching between her buttocks as she rode him-

  “You’re trembling,” one of the women said with a light laugh. “And look, Min calls to you.”

  Nayari’s face burned when she realized her nipples stood hard and erect. She hastily pulled her dress up around her. “Leave me. I’ll await Ammonptah alone.”