Shiri

by D. S.

  “Aye,” Narmer slurred. “All was explained to them by the priests of Karnack. The only women allowed within the temple are those promised to the Hidden One. The boy will be stuck there for hours yet while the girl…” he glanced in her direction, she was seated at the far end of the court, as far away from them as possible. He saw her laugh as she explained something to her bodyslave, a green crystal goblet in hand. She didn’t appear to be drinking from it. Even as he was looking at her she rose, said a few quick words to those about her and departed for her chambers. “What do you mean to do to her?”

  Pharaoh looked at him strangely. You know what I mean to do, Narmer. I mean to fuck her. He emptied his drink, and wiped a little excess from his lips. It was heady stuff, but it went down increasingly easy the more you had. I mean to put her in her place. I mean to humiliate her. I mean to make her kneel. He gestured for more of the same and broke into a smile, “I mean to show her what it is to have the love of a god.”

  Papis opened his eyes. He’d been standing so still and silent by Pharaoh’s side that Amenhotep had forgotten the vizier was there, “She might not go to your bed as easily as the others,” he advised, “She thinks herself above bowing to your commands.”

  Pharaoh shrugged. “Yes, well, ‘twill go harder on her if she comes into stubbornness.”

  “The girl is popular, the people love her. They may whisper against you…”

  “What of it?”

  Narmer added his voice to the vizier’s, “Amenophis … if he finds out he’ll…” The words petered out.

  The drink was taking its toll. Pharaoh smiled at that, just like half the palace. Thanks to Sekhmet nobody will ever even know I had her. “He’ll what? Sulk? Throw his toys around?” A servant filled Pharaoh’s goblet and he took a quick swig before rising, “I’ve had enough of this. Three moons I’ve had to put up with her pouting those lips and wiggling that arse in front of me. It’s not by chance she wears low cropped sheaths and perfumed lotus oil whenever I’m near. She’s asking for it. Oh, she makes pretence towards innocence true enough, but she knows what she’s doing. She wants me.”

  He swayed a little; he’d had a deal to drink himself it seemed. “She grows prouder and haughtier than any woman has a right to be,” he continued. “They name her, ‘Queen of Beauty, Queen of Thebes!’ … Queen! I’ll not have that.” He downed the wine and threw the goblet away, “I’ll not have it I say! She needs to learn her place. Mark me if she doesn’t, you’ll see the Two Lands fall under the sway of a second slut queen.”

  “Aye, mayhaps … you have the right of it,” Narmer said. “I trust not this new god of hers...” He belched again and managed to find Pharaoh’s eye, the Godking was looking at him with a jaded expression. “I hear tell that she insists Amenophis worships no idols in their bedchambers. None save her own sweet body that is.”

  “Insists is it?” Pharaoh frowned. “Aye, it’s as I feared then, the boy is weak.” He placed a hand on his ghaffir’s shoulder. “I just mean to teach the girl her proper place, no more than that. Once she has learned some humility and withdraws from the limelight the Two Lands will be better off.”

  “Aye, along with your cock.”

  Amenhotep laughed, slapping the man on the back. Narmer bent forward and all at once he was vomiting over his sandals. Pharaoh shrugged. Aye, drunk … no matter, I don’t need a ghaffir for this. He grabbed a tankard of frothy ale, paused, exchanged it for a carafe of Memphite Red and left for the royal chambers. Nobody followed him.

  The royal apartments were completely deserted, well almost. He saw the Princess’s ghaffirs standing before her door. They looked very bored, and very sober. They stood to attention as Pharaoh drew near. The Godking paused beside the first one, “Akil isn’t it?” Father always said you should learn their names.

  The man’s eyes widened. “If it pleases you, Divinity.”

  “He turned to the other one and?”

  “Jafar.” The man said with a salute.

  He turned back to Akil. “You served my father at Megiddo.”

  “It was my life’s honour, Divinity, I...” he paused.

  Pharaoh smiled. “You may speak freely, Akil, we’re all friends here.”

  “I miss it sometimes.”

  Pharaoh nodded. “The long march to places unknown? The camaraderie, the wild barbarian women, the glory! Aye, I miss the old times too, my friend – we were men then.” He placed a hand about the ghaffir’s shoulder, “You’re like me, Akil, an old soldier dragged from his natural haunt by events beyond his control.” He raised the carafe towards his lips before pausing, “You have a thirst?”

  The ghaffir grinned as Pharaoh revealed an earthenware mug from under his robes and filled it for him, “Aye, I remember you well. You worked with Old Solon did you not? We’re good friends Solon and I.” He handed him the mug. The ghaffir took it gratefully and downed it in one go. Pharaoh smiled and poured him another. “A hero of Megiddo stuck here guarding women from shadows and phantoms when the rest of the city makes merry and celebrates Sekhmet’s gift – a crime.” He shook his head, “Tell you what, how about you go join them? My man Narmer will be along shortly, there’s no need for you to miss out. Away with you lad, enjoy yourself and drink to times past and sweet barbarian wenches.”

  The man hesitated. “My mistress … she…”

  Pharaoh drew back a little. “Away I say!” He laughed again. “I’m sure the woman will survive one night without a man at her door. And you...” he glanced to Jafar, “the daughter of old General Thauney is alone in her chambers with orders to service the first man to knock on her door.” He winked, “she’s highly skilled is that one and she’ll be at pains to follow your every command … I made sure of that.”

  The man looked confused. “But…”

  Pharaoh growled, growing a little irritated. “Gods, do I need to write ye out instructions? Away with ye!”

  The men bowed quickly, broad smiles on their lips. “You’re too kind, Divinity, may Sekhmet bless…”

  “None of that, none of that, away with ye, away, before I change my mind!”

  The pair bowed and saluted in one before marching quickly away. Before they’d left the hall they’d all but broken into a run. Pharaoh smiled. A princess should be more selective in her choice of guards. He felt a thrill course through his body, a sweet ecstasy of anticipation the like of which he’d not felt in years, She’s there, there at the other side of the door, waiting. He moved forward. He entered silent as a panther stalking its prey.

  The door to the Princess’s room was unlocked and opened with a soft creek. The room was bathed in light and in the very centre Tiye stood clad in nothing but a smile, her bare skin glistening with foamy suds as she stepped from a green marble bath, her bodyslave kneeling by her feet drying her off. Pharaoh saw the red goddess glance absently in his direction. He swayed at the entrance, wine in hand. He met her gaze before slowly lowering his eyes and focusing between her legs.

  A moment Tiye just stood there, staring at him in disbelief, her eyes growing wider by the second. And then, in a rush of movement and sound she screamed and darted for a towel. She pulled it up to her neckline, only to realise that it was too short and left her lower half exposed. Still, she clung to it awkwardly, trying to lower it a little while flinging an arm across her chest to cover her exposed breasts, “Divinity, please!” It was half shout, half shriek. “These are my private quarters!” Her face was a pretty fusion of shock and bewilderment.

  The girl’s bodyslave spun. She dropped a bar of soap on the floor at her feet, a look of horror on her face. He saw her little hands clench into fists as big brown eyes stared intensely at his own. The slave stepped in front of her mistress, planting her feet almost aggressively, a fiery thing, he liked that. Perhaps I will take them both. Perhaps I will have the little slave dance for me. Perhaps I will have her kiss and moisten my cock before it enters her mistress. His eyes found Tiye’s, “Beautiful One,” he made it sound like a profa
nity. “I have come for you.”

  XI

  “Divinity, please … you’ve made a mistake, you’re in the wrong room!”

  “You did not drink in honour of the goddess.” He stood there swaying, leering, smiling.” I brought you some Memphite Red to remind you of home.” He showed her the wine. “I’ll see you drink it now.”

  “I can’t”

  “Are you so enamoured with your Jealous God that you would insult the Lady of Flame on her sacred day?”

  She glanced to her bodyslave. She’d wanted to tell Amenophis first not him. “I can’t, I … I am with child.”

  Pharaoh raised an eyebrow. He took the opportunity to scrutinise her more closely, stepping into the room. Abruptly, he laughed, “Gods be good, you mean to say the lad actually managed it? I did not think him capable.” He slithered closer still. “You do not play me false do you? Why don’t you put away that cloth so I may see if you’re showing signs?” And then he was reaching his hand towards her as if to pull it aside himself. Tiye drew back from him.

  “What do you want of me?” She sounded more angry than afraid.

  His mouth twisted strangely. “Fealty.”

  “I have already offered you…”

  “Have you?” He stepped closer and she retreated again.

  “I ... I brought you mud and water from the sacred pools of Heliopolis, I bowed before the altar and swore vows of loyalty to the Crown…”

  “Why then do you deny me my … requests?” His smile was broad and hungry, his eyes licking and sliding over her body.

  “I … I would not deny your requests divinity … I only…”

  “Then put away that cloth and show me what lies beneath. Show me if you’re deserving of the name they give you.”

  Her bodyslave stepped between them and met his eye. “You’re drunk.”

  Tiye turned to her. “Shiri please!”

  Pharaoh took a swig from his carafe, his eyes did not leave Tiye’s. “Your slave needs to learn her place; a common fault in the women of Heliopolis it seems.” He thrust the carafe at the slave who was forced to take it or let it fall. He gestured dismissively in the direction of a pair of silver goblets.

  The slave didn’t move. “You need to leave,” she said.

  “Shiri!” Tiye reached for her shoulder and spun her around. “You … you must not speak to Pharaoh without being spoken to!” She pointed violently towards the door to the slave’s room, “Leave us!” She glanced back to Pharaoh, “I apologise, Divinity … my slave, she speaks out of turn, it’s … it’s a failing of hers, she’s not yet accustomed to high company ... Shiri leave us I said, leave us at once.” The slave was slow about obeying and Tiye grew ever more panicked, what’s gotten in to her? “Shiri leave us I said! At once, Shiri!”

  The slave moved from in front of her at that, but did not leave her side. Tiye looked at her half in disbelief, what’s wrong with her? She’d long since promised herself she’d never lay hands on the slave, but she’d have harsh words with her about this. Such lack of discipline reflected badly not just on her but on all the slaves of Heliopolis, on her father, and she would allow nobody to taint her father. She heard Pharaoh edging closer and turned back to him, “Amenophis he … he is my husband, he is returning shortly, he … he is my husband…”

  “And I am your king,” he slid closer still. She was backed up against the wall now and could retreat no further. She could smell his breath, sweet wine, strong cheese, bitter ale. “You would not disobey your king would you, sweet princess?” She saw his hand slide to the front of his kilt. He’s rubbing himself!

  A noise, half sigh half moan, escaped his lips. “Were your words of featly naught but hollow courtesies? Do you prove yourself traitor?” He stifled a belch with the back of his hand, “It’s a grievous crime to disobey your Pharaoh, my sweet, sweet princess.”

  Tiye looked one way then the next; she could hardly form the words. “But you … you request to see me naked?”

  “I’ll command it if you prefer,” he imagined he saw something break in her then.” She will yield just like all the rest. “You would not defy request and command both would you? That would be … unfortunate.”

  She bit her lip, looked away a moment, then turned back to him. He saw her fingers trembling about the cloth, saw them inch it slightly lower, and then she paused. He saw her look back to him, saw something strange in her eyes, it took him a moment to recognise what it was. Defiance! She … she is not going to yield. He took a deep breath, his jaw firming. “Do not make this harder than it needs to be, Beautiful One.”

  He saw her lips quiver about a word, saw them twist, “Leave,” she said softly. She took a breath and pointed to the door. “Leave now.”

  His eyes grew dark and malevolent. He made an ugly noise deep in his throat, and gave the Princess a regretful glance. He turned aside just a little, offered her slave something that looked like a shrug and then it all happened at once. Tiye saw his face erupt in sudden fury, saw a blur of movement and then felt a burst of blinding pain as the back of his hand smashed into her face. She saw stars, fell to her knees, felt blood in her mouth. In half a dream she heard him say something. She tried to rise, stumbled a little, but made it to her feet in time to hear him make a tutting noise between his lips. “Stubborn,” he said softly, almost regrettably. She saw him raise his hand a second time.

  And then there was a sudden fountain of red liquid about his head. Tiye watched as Pharaoh stumbled, blood pouring all over his face and chest. She felt some splatter over her face, it tasted like Memphite Red. It is Memphite Red. She saw her bodyslave step in front of her, the handle of his shattered carafe still in hand. She saw her slave meet the Godking’s eye, heard her say, “Go fuck yourself … Divinity.”

  Tiye gasped, too stunned to understand what was going on. Later, she could recall seeing Amenhotep pawing at his head, staring open-mouthed at her bodyslave. Later still, she remembered screams and shouts that might have been her own. She remembered seeing the Habiru aiming a kick between his legs, saw her scratching at his face and eyes, heard those screams again and again. “Shiri no! No!” When he drew it she didn’t see, but she remembered seeing Pharaoh, sword in hand, roaring and swinging it wildly at her slave. More screams, “No! Stop it! Stop it!” And she remembered her slave on the ground writhing and struggling, the Godking’s blade at her throat, his booted foot pinning her where she lay.

  “No!” she heard again. “No! Don’t kill her please!” A moment, the Godking ignored her and pressed the tip against her Habiru’s skin, “Please! Don’t!” She grabbed his arm.

  Pharaoh turned and it was then he knew he had her. She was spattered in blood or wine, her cheek a little red where he’d administered some much needed discipline, and still she clung to her towel. But he had her, “You care so much for this Habiru?” He grinned as he met the Beautiful One’s eye, “She laid hands on me,” he said with satisfaction, “and her words…”

  “She … she’s a foolish slave … a … a lackwit my father bought for half a coin, she doesn’t know what she does. A … a dog would do no different when they think their master in peril.”

  Amenhotep lifted his boot from the slave’s chest and sheathed his blade. “Her death will not be pleasant. Have you ever seen a Habiru impaled?” The smile broadened, “It’s most … entertaining. We flay them first you see. We have to flay them first or the crowds become restless. A priest of Imhotep would serve, but more often than not an acolyte of Seth gets that honour. Then we take a pole fourteen feet long and a foot in girth at the widest point … and well,” he smiled, “you know the rest I’m sure.” He wiped an excess of sticky wine from his robes, “And make no mistake … she’s your slave so … well, I think you know who must give the command, sweet Princess.” He turned and went for the door.

  “Wait!”

  He paused at the entrance, a thin smile forming on his lips, as he listened to her frantic pleas, “She … she meant no harm. She was my wet-nurse
… she’s been with me all my life … you … you couldn’t be so cruel!”

  “I can be many things, pretty one,” he took a further step towards the door.

  She didn’t know what else to say. “Please … please, don’t she’s … she’s”

  “A lackwit, a dog, wet-nurse aye, it makes no matter, she will die all the same.” He took a breath and made his play, “Unless of course you can think of a reason why I might show her mercy. I am known for my mercy.” He waited and waited some more and at last was rewarded by the sound of her towel falling to the floor.

  “There,” she said coldly. “Is this enough for you?”

  He felt that thrill return and struggled to resist the urge to turn. “No,” he said simply and moved closer still to the exit. “I’ll be in my bedchamber, Beautiful One; we can … discuss it there, but do not make me wait over long. I’m known for mercy, not patience.” He exited the room, then paused again. “And wear your bridal dress. I would see you in that again.” He left without another word.

  Tiye turned to her slave. The Habiru had regained her feet. She was rubbing her chest, wincing just a little. Tiye found herself unable to form the words, so instead broke her long held promise and spoke with the palm of her hand. She spun and walked to her dresser, “Fetch my wedding dress,” she said without looking at her again.

  Her bodyslave held the back of her hand to her cheek. “I’ll … I’ll go to him at once, I’ll … apologise.”

  “It’s too late for apologies, Shiri. On the morrow I’ll find you a berth on the first ship for Heliopolis. Amaris will be my new bodyslave, she has better sense than you.” She turned back to her. “Get me that dress I said.”

  “What … what do you mean to do? … You’re … you’re not going to him? You mustn’t!”