The Concubine’s Tale

by Jennifer Colgan

  “Of course.” The women bowed and left with knowing smiles. They took the bathing water with them, but left the remains of the food. Nayari stared at it and willed herself to take another bite, but her appetite had fled.

  Perhaps someone else might want the food. It would only attract flies if left in her room all night. Carefully, she lifted the heavy tray and padded barefoot across the floor. She turned and let herself out of the room, backside first to push the reed mat out of the way. When she collided with a warm body, she nearly dropped the tray.

  She whirled around and glared up into the face of the warrior. He gave her a curious shrug. “The food isn’t to your liking?” he asked.

  “I…was going to give it to the oxen.” She raised her head in defiance of his tone, but then shifted her arms to cover her chest, aware that her strange excitement still showed in the hard peaks of her nipples that raised the thin fabric of her dress. A cool current of air stirred the hem of her skirt, and a tingle raced up her legs to her inner thighs.

  “The oxen have plenty of food,” he said. His voice rumbled in his chest, and he stared over her head as if he wished to avoid looking at her.

  “Then perhaps you would like it.”

  “The priests have brought me food.”

  Nayari sighed. “Then take it away before it rots.”

  Now his gaze dropped to hers, and she held herself still under his blazing scrutiny. “I am not a maidservant,” he said.

  “Neither am I.”

  Their gazes held, battled for a moment, and Nayari swore a faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I’ll alert the acolytes. Go inside and wait for them to return.”

  Nayari wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. She leaned back against the cold stone wall and looked up at him. With his arms crossed over his chest and his brows lowered over those onyx-colored eyes, he looked far more imposing than a god. She should have cowered in fear, but instead he made her feel strong and defiant. She had absolute certainty he would never harm her, even if she provoked him.

  “Where is Ammonptah? Please tell me.”

  “I do not know.”

  “Yes, you do!”

  “No, I don’t. He merely-”

  Nayari stepped forward, craning her neck to meet his gaze. “He what?”

  “Gave me instructions to follow, and that’s what I will do. That and nothing more.”

  “Tell me your name.”

  “No.”

  Annoyed beyond reason, Nayari whirled around and flung herself back into her room. She plunked the tray onto the shelf and fell into the bed, which creaked under her meager weight. The musty odor of it crawled into her nose, pushing aside the sweet smell of flowers that had lingered on her skin since her bath. How would that do? she thought. To smell of mold when Ammonptah came to claim her would be unseemly. He would be angry with the priests and acolytes for not taking proper care of his property.

  And that last word echoed in her mind. Property. I belong to Ammonptah, and I’m bound to do as he wishes. She fell asleep with that thought battling with visions of the warrior, naked, his skin hot and sweaty, holding his thick, hard cock in his hand and writhing to the beat of the ceremonial drums.

  Chapter Three

  Grant ran one finger along the inside of his collar and tugged at the knot of his tie. He’d never known Del Monaco’s to be uncomfortably warm, but tonight…whew. He finished the last sip of his wine and motioned the waiter to bring the check.

  Next to him, Cait was the picture of composure. Did she have any idea what her sexy story was doing to him? He certainly didn’t need to hear another word to know he wanted the scroll, at any cost. More than that, he wanted to know the rest of the story, and he wanted to hear it from those sensuous, coral-colored lips of hers. Were those the ceremonial drums he heard, or just the pounding of his own heart?

  “Shall I take you back to the gallery now?” He had to be polite and give her an option at this point. If her story went any further, he aimed to let her know she’d have to finish it for him tonight-finish him before he lost his mind.

  “I’m done for tonight, unless you’d like to look at the scroll again.”

  “Then I’ll take you home? I could use a second cup of coffee.”

  The look in her pale blue eyes told him he wouldn’t have to beg for an ending. “All right,” she agreed as they rose.

  The waiter floated by and whisked away the folder and Grant’s credit card.

  “Or maybe you could whip up some coq au vin.”

  She laughed. “I’m fresh out of coq.”

  “I can fix that.”

  With the bill settled, Grant escorted Cait back to the sidewalk. The evening dinner crowds that had choked the avenue when they arrived were long gone, and the late night traffic had slowed.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “We can walk from here, unless you’d prefer a quick cab ride.”

  “It’s a great night for walking.” The temperature hovered in the high sixties, according to the display on the bank across the street. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, or a star, for that matter. Of course, in Midtown, the only twinkling lights usually came from buildings or air traffic. What he wouldn’t have given to see the river of stars that dusted the sky back in Nayari’s time.

  He offered Cait his arm. “Where were we? Our lovely Nayari was dreaming of her virile warrior.”

  “While he stood guard outside her door, keeping her safe-or so he thought-for the man who owned them both.”

  “Where was Ammonptah? We still don’t know why he had Nayari brought to the temple.”

  “The warrior was about to find out.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  Cait gave him an enigmatic smile. “Don’t you want to find out when Nayari does?”

  “I’m impatient. Tell me now.”

  “His name was Khanu. The meaning of his name isn’t clear, but there’s speculation it meant ‘within him resides the blood of kings’.”

  “A lofty name for a warrior.”

  “Perhaps he was destined to serve a higher purpose.”

  “To save Nayari?”

  “Or perhaps to stop a political coup that would have put an imposter on the throne of Egypt.”

  “Now I’m really intrigued. What happened next?”

  Hours passed and the oil pots that lit the dusty corridors of the temple burned low. One of the priests arrived to relieve Khanu at his post.

  “There’s a pallet for you in the far room,” the priest told him. “Rest now.”

  Khanu rubbed the stiff muscles of his neck and glanced back at the reed mat that separated him from Nayari. Her rhythmic breathing reached him, but he longed to push the barrier aside and see for himself that she slept peacefully.

  “She’ll be safe,” the priest said.

  “I must ask, do you know when Ammonptah will arrive?” Khanu admonished himself for such curiosity.

  “We’ve been told only to give quarters to the woman. I don’t know for how long or for what purpose.”

  Khanu gauged the answer and bowed to the priest. He made his way to the room that had been assigned to him and slept until dawn.

  When he woke, he heard the commotion in the corridor and sprang to his feet. He heard Nayari’s voice raised in alarm and cursed himself for leaving her side.

  He found her in the corridor outside her room, surrounded by four acolytes.

  “There you are!” she said when he bolted through the small crowd. The others obediently moved out of his way.

  “What’s happened?”

  “They won’t allow me to go outside. I’ve been in this room all night, and I smell of oil smoke and stale rushes.”

  Only a woman would be so sensitive. He smelled only jasmine and the enticing scent of female skin.

  “I will escort her outside,” Khanu said. He waved the acolytes away from Nayari. “See that her room is cleaned before she returns.”

  Nayari stared at him, her golden tige
r-eyes wide as if she hadn’t expected him to take her side in the dispute. The women backed up, but eyed him warily, obviously uncertain whether he had the authority to make such a decision.

  None of the four dared to defy him, though, and he took Nayari’s elbow in his hand and led her down the corridor.

  When the acolytes had disappeared, she pulled her arm from his grasp. Her anger showed in her stiff posture and quick steps. She drew ahead of him in the narrow corridor and turned on him. The ferocity in her expression amused him and, to his chagrin, aroused him as well. Seething, her eyes flashing and her breasts heaving beneath the thin sheath of linen she wore, she reminded him of a desert wildcat in desperate need of taming.

  “I never needed an escort to go outside when I resided with Ammonptah. I don’t see why I need one now.” With her hands planted on her slim hips, she seemed to fill the narrow corridor. Khanu took one step forward, forcing her to crane her graceful neck to hold his gaze.

  “Ammonptah is obviously concerned for your safety and doesn’t wish you to be wandering around alone. I will accompany you wherever you go, or I will assign an acolyte to stay with you.”

  “I don’t see what danger I would be in, sitting in the courtyard.”

  “That is precisely why you need to be guarded, because you don’t see any danger.”

  His logic apparently escaped her, and she frowned. “I know Ammonptah has enemies.”

  “All powerful men do.”

  She dropped her arms, then crossed them over her chest. With one hip thrust forward, she managed to maintain her defiant posture, even though her expression softened. “If we need to fear enemies of Ammonptah, why were there no guards at his home? Surely Baakah and his other wives would be in danger also?”

  “There may have been no guards when we left, but we have no way of knowing if there are guards now.”

  She sighed loudly and whirled around again. He indulged in a smile as she began walking toward the main temple room. “You’re far too smart to be a soldier. You should have been a scribe or a priest, with all those clever answers in your head.”

  “And you are far too talkative to be a-” Khanu stopped when Nayari backed up one quick step and collided with his chest. He felt the tense set of her muscles and the gentle swell of her buttocks pressed against his thigh. She held up one hand to shush him and pointed into the temple room.

  The deep thrum of half a dozen drums began, echoing through the huge rectangular chamber. Like the heartbeat of a giant, the rhythmic sound traveled through the stone floor and seemed to settle directly in Khanu’s loins. His balls began to ache with the sound and the nearness of Nayari’s supple body.

  He peered over her shoulder at the ritual taking place before the altar of Min.

  The priests knelt before a huge statue of the god clutching his erect penis. The long, straight shadow of his member fell between them, cast by an oil lamp hanging from a sconce high on the wall.

  Sheaves of wheat and bowls of grain decorated the altar, and the acolytes, now completely naked, circled the pile of offerings. They chanted in time to the drumbeat and bowed their heads in unison to pray to the god.

  Khanu felt Nayari tremble, and he placed one hand on her shoulder, drawing her gently back against him. They dared not enter the temple and defile the ceremony, so they stood in the shadows, captured by the spectacle.

  The rhythm of the drums increased, and the acolytes broke away from the altar. The priests rose and moved to the back of the room where a man stood, garbed in dark robes. They brought him forward and removed his robes, leaving him also standing naked before the statue of the god.

  One by one, the acolytes danced around the man. Their fingers fluttered over his chest, his back and his own member, which grew erect as the ritual continued.

  Finally, when the drumming became a crescendo that rattled the walls, the man reached out and drew one of the acolytes to him in a backward embrace. He pulled her against him and bent her forward. She threw back her head and let out a moan of pleasure as he entered her. He grasped her hips and took her, moving to the beat of the drums, while the other acolytes danced and the priests chanted.

  Nayari sank against Khanu’s chest, and the heat of her skin burned him. She began to sway with the beat as well, bumping her buttocks against his thighs. She had to feel his own hardened member, had to be aware of his growing arousal. She moaned softly, and his cock surged. Without thought, he slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist and held her, trapped against him until the ritual ended. The man and the acolyte collapsed on the floor before the altar, panting from their exertions. Once again, the priests knelt before the statue of Min and bowed their heads.

  The tableau remained for a moment, all the participants utterly silent, then they rose, gathered discarded robes and skirts and left the room. Only Min remained, still holding his member, its long shadow stretching across the room to point at the corridor where Nayari and Khanu stood, trembling.

  “I’ll take you outside now,” he said finally, finding his voice. He removed his hand from her and stepped back. She didn’t turn, but he saw the tremor in her posture. Silently, he followed her out into the brilliant sunlight of the temple courtyard.

  “Interesting ritual,” Grant said when they reached Cait’s apartment. Her story definitely had an effect on him. His voice had gone deep and husky, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she caught the hint of arousal in his eyes. “I’m going to have to do some research on Min.”

  Cait’s hand shook a little as she maneuvered her key into the lock on her apartment door. There was still time to back out of this and send Grant on his way. After all, this evening had never been intended as a date. Why, suddenly, was she willing to endanger her job for Grant? Was it simply because she hadn’t been out with anyone in months, or because maybe she’d been holding out for just this moment? For the first time, she saw past his arrogant exterior to the man beneath and wondered why she hadn’t bothered to look that closely before.

  Pushing her inner debate aside, she turned the key and opened the door. She hit the light switch, and Grant followed her inside. “Much of what’s written in Layton ’s journal seems to be speculation, but the description of the rite witnessed by Nayari and Khanu is very specific. It may not have been a standard ritual that was practiced often.”

  She led Grant through the small entry hall into her living room. “Have a seat. I’ll make some coffee.”

  “That can wait. I’d like to hear more. At this point, they both must have been supercharged. How did they keep their hands off each other?” His grin was mischievous. He took her hand and drew her toward the couch.

  “Escaping the sultry atmosphere of the temple was probably a wise thing at that moment. Outside there would have been a number of people milling around, traffic on the street, merchants, caravans, people waiting to leave offerings for Min. They wouldn’t have been alone.” She sat, leaned back into the corner of the overstuffed couch and stretched her legs.

  Grant loosened his tie and took off his jacket. His crisp, cream-colored shirt fit as though it was hand-tailored, and she found herself admiring the hard lines of his angular torso. He was probably a weightlifter, she decided, but not fanatical about it.

  “How many times have you read the translation?”

  She laughed. “More than once. Layton includes a literal, line-by-line account, which can be a little hard to follow at times due to the syntax. But he also commissioned an interpretive translation to smooth out the rough spots in the text. That writer embellished here and there, obviously, but really made the story come alive.”

  “You seem to have that talent as well.”

  Cait felt herself blush. How had she managed to end up with Grant Pierson sitting on her couch, flattering her, ready to hear more about the ancient lovers who had captured her imagination? “Nayari didn’t want to be forgotten. It’s wonderful that we finally get the chance to know her story.”

  Grant’s eyes darkened
momentarily. “ Layton would have kept it to himself forever.”

  “Fortunately, his heirs are more generous.”

  “Or greedy. They’re asking a hefty price for the scroll and the journals, right?”

  “The bidding is going to be hot.”

  “You bet it is.” He licked his lips. “Tell me more. How long did it take Khanu to make his move?”

  Nayari’s first full day in residence at the temple was long and frustrating. After watching the shocking ritual, she could think of nothing else for hours. Still dutiful to Ammonptah, she struggled to keep her eyes off the warrior and found a shady spot in the courtyard to sit and contemplate her fate.

  When the acolytes came to find her later in the day, she tried to pick out which one it had been that had participated in the coupling with the man in the dark robes, but all the women looked very much alike. With their eyes ringed in kohl and straight black wigs on their heads, she could scarcely tell one from the other. When they escorted her back to her room, the warrior remained in the courtyard, talking to one of the priests. That suited Nayari since she could think of nothing to say to him.

  Alone with her thoughts once again, she wondered how long Ammonptah expected her to wait for him. Perhaps merely living in the temple would bestow some of the blessings of Min on her and make her fertile, but she began to think perhaps she would be expected to participate in a rite like she’d seen that day.

  Her mind wandered, recreating the fevered dancing and the incessant beat of the drums. In her mind’s eye, she saw the warrior, felt his hands on her waist, and finally imagined the thrust of his cock inside her as she bent in supplication to the god.

  Why couldn’t she think of Ammonptah the same way?

  Perhaps that was why she hadn’t conceived yet. She thought of Ammonptah only as her master, a man whose clumsy attentions were to be endured rather than enjoyed.

  She paced the confines of her room for what seemed like hours, hoping to work off the nervous feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach. A dozen times she went to the door and, without disturbing the reed mat, tried to peer through the miniscule holes between the weave to see if the warrior had returned to his guard post.