by Chanta Rand
She wanted to tell the girls that they could play the same games as boys. She wanted them to know that women were just as important as men. Queen Sebek-Neferu-Ra and Queen Aah-hotep, who ruled hundreds of years ago, were competent and accomplished rulers. In Nubian society, women had a place of esteem, and they were frequently consulted on political affairs.
But as Dyzet said, this was not Nubia. For every heroic story of a powerful queen, there was an equally pathetic story of a woman like her—a victim of circumstance. Her capture proved that women were often nothing more than pawns in a man’s world. So, she did not call out to the girls. She did not try to tell them what they could be. She remained silent, watching the city below, and preparing herself for her next encounter with the man who held her future in his hands.
Amonmose walked briskly down the long corridor to his meeting room, his golden flail in one hand and his walking staff in the other. A small procession followed him. His chief counselor, Meketen, dogged his heels. The short, stout man almost had to run to match the Pharaoh’s brisk pace. On Amonmose’s left, his bodyguard, Baal, kept constant watch over him. His hulking form gave the distinct impression that he could snap a man’s neck in two quite easily. On Amonmose’s right, two female servants gently waved huge fans made of ostrich plumes. Normally, he did not mind the women dispelling the thick waves of heat. But the corridors were cool today, and there was no need for their annoying presence. He waived his flair in their direction, indicating their services were no longer needed. They slipped away, seemingly brooding over their dismissal.
As Amonmose neared the meeting room, two eunuchs guarding the double doors to the meeting room bowed. The doors were then opened with a flourish. He entered and sat in a large gilded chair adorned with rare stones and carvings. As his advisors rose to greet him, he impatiently waved them away, dispensing with the pleasantries. He was not in the mood for pomp and ceremony.
“Nadesh, as my grand vizier, I rely on you to provide accurate military intelligence. As I am sure you know, that night in Aswan was a waste of men and effort. Have you an answer for what went wrong? A quick answer,” he added, to forestall one of Nadesh’s endless rambles.
Nadesh stepped forward. Fine lines were etched into his bronzed face, the only hint that he was nearing fifty years of age. “One of my scouts advised me of a skirmish on the southern border of Thebes, near Esna. An envoy of Nubian soldiers stormed the city, destroying temples and looting the coffers. They left over forty people dead.”
Amonmose held up his hand. “You conveyed this same information to me days ago. Yet, I saw none of this resistance. Am I to believe you depended on the word of one scout to carry my army into battle?”
Nadesh looked offended. “Never! I have a number of sources who keep me well informed. Even now, a unit of soldiers performing routine reconnaissance has alerted me to hostile activity near the border again. The Nubians are mounting another campaign to demolish our outlying cities. Obviously, the loss of their homes and the destruction of their towns have meant nothing to them. They are like rabid dogs, foaming at the mouth, ready to conquer Egypt and usurp our power. The time has come to crush these insurgents for good!”
Amonmose listened to Nadesh’s heated words with cool indifference. “Surely, if the Nubians had initiated the first attacks, they would expect retaliation. Their soldiers would have been battle ready, prepared to take on our army. Yet, when our soldiers arrived, there was no one to put up a fight. In fact, our appearance seemed to be a complete surprise. How do you explain this?”
“Someone must have alerted them of our plans,” Nadesh responded.
“I think you were misinformed about the Nubian state of affairs in Aswan.”
“I have no regrets about that,” Nadesh said. “I will not be satisfied until they are all dead.”
Amonmose sneered. “You will not be satisfied until they are all dead? I am Pharaoh. I decide who survives and who does not. Nubia is a formidable enemy. The people are self-sufficient, politically well organized, and they have a strong military. Not only do we risk the lives of our soldiers, going to battle with them may also be cutting off a valuable trade route. You talk too much of bloodlust and not enough of diplomacy.”
“Respectfully, I agree with you—in part. The Nubians grow in strength and number each day. They give no thought to the lives of our citizens when they raid our border towns. Their sneak attacks are crippling us. If we do not stop them now, they will overtake us soon.” Nadesh’s voice filled with anger and conviction. “We need to strike hard and fast into the hearts of our enemies. If there is any indication of weakness, if anyone survives, the next generation will grow with twice the envy and hatred.”
Nadesh stroked his thin, black beard with the palm of his hand. “As far as their trade route, Nubia is perfectly located to receive goods from the interior of Africa. If we conquer them, we can control all the shipments of gold, ivory, precious oils, spices, and animal skins.” He held his palms up in a pleading gesture. “Let us not be naïve, your grace. Egypt is rich with flourishing trade, prosperous farming, and the greatest water source in the entire world. We would be fools to think that no one would come to challenge us for it. But we would be stupid to wait on them to do so. We must be the aggressor. We must not sit idly by and wonder if, and when, they will attack again.”
Meketen, the chief counselor, spoke up. “I am in agreement with Nadesh. With the increasing number of foreigners entering our city gates and the threat of war looming from neighboring countries greedy for our resources, Egypt is in state of turmoil. Soon, it will be time for you to take a bride, Amonmose. Would you have your wife live in fear in her own city? Afraid to go to the market? Terrified to venture to the temples? Our enemies are just waiting for the opportunity to strike. And when they are successful, what will become of Egypt? Looters and thieves will flood the streets. Our people will be destitute. Our temples will be desecrated. Our culture will be forgotten. We must show these mongrels what we do to those who test the authority of the Pharaoh.”
Amonmose watched the men standing before him. In the past, both had shown superior combat knowledge with impressive military records. Meketen was by far the more rational one, but he was not a brilliant strategist like Nadesh. Leading the pampered life of a royal chief counselor had easily added excessive pounds to his already short stature. He now reminded Amonmose of the god Bes, who stood in the doorways of many Egyptian homes, protecting the occupants against evil. Still, both men had been advisors to his father, and over the last twenty years, he, too, had come to rely on their counsel. Amonmose turned to his third advisor, Royal Treasurer Hai. “Have you an opinion on this?”
Hai cleared his throat before speaking. “Pharaoh, since your rule began, there has been nothing but stability in the land. Our citizens are prosperous. Our grain silos are always full. The soldiers are happy and well paid. Trade flourishes. But your throne is being constantly threatened by these foreigners. If you lose power, it will devastate trade relations and leave our currency undervalued. Workers will panic, production will decrease, prices will increase, and we’ll have complete anarchy. We cannot live with the constant threat of Nubia at our throats. I say it’s time to destroy them once and for all.”
Amonmose pondered the advice of his council. Nadesh seemed agitated, emotional, as though the attacks from Nubia were personal. Kill every last Nubian? That was pure hatred disguised as counsel.
And Meketen? The consequences of inaction that he foresaw were ludicrous. Thebes destroyed? Their culture forgotten? Thebes had the greatest quantity and variety of goods anywhere in the world. Even if the city was captured by foreigners, it would never be destroyed.
As for Hai, his only concern appeared to be fear of losing control over Egypt’s economy. He lamented over the country’s currency as though it came from his own purse strings. Over the years, Amonmose had seen him change from an efficient accountant to an overstuffed miser.
“Gentlemen, I have heard all of
your arguments, and I’ve come to my own conclusion. We’ve spent an enormous amount of resources fighting Assyrian, Mesopotamian and Libyan invasions. There is a time for battle and a time for peace. Waging war against Nubia is like stirring a bee’s nest. I am content to leave that nest alone for now. We will keep our reconnaissance troops in place, and any new developments should be immediately reported to me. Are my orders clear?”
The advisors masked their disappointment with affirmative nods. While they might not agree with their Pharaoh, they would not dare to oppose him. Amonmose left the room and retired to the solitude of his chambers. He looked at the oversized map of Nubia that lay on his table. It was at times like this when he thought of his father and wondered what his strategy would have been. Amonmose never got a chance to really know either of his parents. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father was killed in battle when he was barely twelve. The irony was not lost on him. His parents died so he could live.
From then on, he had been totally dependent on the royal advisors, who raised him until he could successfully rule on his own. With corruption running rampant in the palace, it was amazing that he had not been killed—ascension to the throne by violence occurred frequently. As a precaution, he was kept sequestered for most of his adolescence.
He soon developed a loathing for the warring tribes that incessantly threatened the stability of the kingdom. As a young man, he surrounded himself with the brightest advisors and the smartest military strategists. He soaked up knowledge like a dry desert receiving its first rain. By age twenty, he had gone to war with eight neighboring tribes. Five years later, he’d doubled the size of the royal coffers, and he’d recovered a vast amount of land that had been stolen from weaker kings.
All his victories were hard won. His father had tried to do the same, and Amonmose felt he carried on his father’s legacy. He hoped his own heir would follow his example, but first he must find a wife. A fact his advisors would not let him forget.
Women were mere playthings to him. He loved their ripe forms, their soft bodies, and their willing dispositions. But they were all fluff and no substance. He’d yet to find one he felt he could regard as his equal.
Amonmose pushed the map aside and poured himself a goblet of wine, made from the grapes of his own vineyard. The sweet liquid felt warm going down his throat. He savored the effects that rippled slowly through his body.
He walked over to his large, bronze mirror and stared into it. Most women would consider him handsome. For certain, he’d had more than his fair share of conquests. The concubines he’d had in the past had stirred his blood, but only briefly. Nevertheless, he must find a wife soon. She would need to be fiercely loyal to him, but she should also have the best interests of Egypt in mind. She must realize he is the link between the people and their gods, and she must believe that when he prospers, Egypt prospers.
He wanted her to understand his duties as the supreme ruler. She would also have to appreciate her role as his queen and know how her actions affected the citizens. And of course, she would have to be attractive. He could not be expected to sire a legitimate heir with a woman who had the face of a goat!
Amonmose swallowed the last of his wine and turned away from the mirror. He would have to devote his time to finding a wife later. Right now, he had business with the Nubian woman. He’d learned that Kama had dismissed all but one of her ladies-in-waiting. She refused to eat any of her food, and the servants reported that she cried herself to sleep each night. Apparently, she preferred to starve herself to death rather than suffer in captivity.
He smirked. Something about her tempestuous nature drove him wild with passion and the need to possess her. Night after night he’d been plagued by her image. He remembered every detail about her, from her sparkling onyx eyes to her luscious body. Even surrounded by his army, she’d tried to hide her fear with her haughty stare and her biting tongue. Kama was a force to reckon with. But he could be just as powerful. He smiled to himself. On the morrow, he would make certain they were reintroduced.
Chapter Three
The next day Dyzet did not visit Kama. Despite her obvious desire to be alone, Kama had grown used to the young girl arriving promptly at sunrise and interrupting her cherished silence with her endless chatter. The room was eerily quiet without her.
Kama surveyed her surroundings. Her eyes rested on the mahogany three-legged table and two matching stools. Dyzet’s Senet game was still there. The other furniture in the room consisted of three chests made of woven reeds, a massive bronze mirror polished to perfection, various wooden lamp stands with oil to light the room, and her large bed. She had to admit, the bed was comfortable. It was piled high with soft pillows and linens for cushioning. Since her arrival, she’d spent most of her time in this room. Perhaps she could sneak unseen from her chambers and see the rest of the palace.
She donned a simple, long white sheath dress but did not bother to belt it at the waist, as was customary. In Kerma, she’d always worn her clothing loose, preferring comfort to style. She glanced briefly at her new sandals lying at the foot of her bed. She would leave them behind. The tough leather rubbed against the arch of her foot, irritating it. Furthermore, she knew she would not step outside the palace walls.
She quietly ventured from the room. To her surprise and relief, no one stood guard. As her bare feet touched the cool tiles of the floor, she felt a sense of trepidation slither through her, as if someone were watching her. She shrugged the feeling off and continued her walk, passing through the endless corridors of the palace. It was like a giant maze. Each hall emptied into another with no rhyme or reason. Her eyes widened in surprise at the opulence. Even the walls were engraved with ivory and gold inlay, depicting scenes of royal life, hunting, and chariot races. Ebony and teak wood sculptures lined the long halls. Ornately carved bronze and gold mirrors flanked her on all sides.
She looked at her reflection in one of the mirrors. She appeared calm and cool. No one would guess that only days before she had fled from a devastating fire, lost most of her family members, and barely escaped being raped by barbaric savages. She felt a rush of sadness at the memories, but no tears came. It was just as well. Tears were no use to her anyway. She had to use her brains and not her emotions to secure her freedom.
She kept walking, determined to explore the rest of the passageways. Gigantic stone torches lit each end, casting a brilliant glow over everything. When she reached the end of the corridor, she saw it opened into a magnificent receiving room filled with rows of marble stools. In the center of the room was a large platform raised several inches off the intricately tiled floor. Just beyond the platform sat a solid gold chair encrusted with precious, colored gemstones. The arms of the chair were shaped like animal limbs, and the ends formed lion’s claws.
She marveled at the exquisite display of turquoise, coral, and onyx. Mesmerized by the strength and power it exuded, she tentatively reached forward and stroked the chair’s hard surface. It was cool to the touch.
This chair could belong to only one person. A sarcastic smirk crossed Kama’s lips. The Pharaoh must be a vainglorious ruler to liken himself to a lion. Either that or a man with a sense of humor. She doubted it was the latter.
“This is where I hold court,” a voice called out behind her. “Are you here to be judged?”
Kama whirled around. Even though he stood in the shadows, she could tell it was the Pharaoh by his masterful stance. He was an impressive figure, draped in a long, blue, pleated tunic and elaborate sandals. A majestic gold headpiece adorned with lapis lazuli and red coral stones covered his head. He wore thick gold bracelets on both arms and a bronze Ankh on his neck. The brilliance of the metal complimented his darkly tanned skin. His handsome features appeared stoic, but his eyes seemed to burn with a wild heat. He did indeed remind her of a lion, fierce and strong.
She felt her hands instinctively drop to her sides. Once steady fingers now trembled in the presence of her captor. Her heart hammere
d in her chest, as her eyes roamed muscled body. He was the same as she remembered. Tall. Intimidating. Handsome. So, he’d finally come to lay claim to his prize, to show her what her intended place in his kingdom was. That must have been the reason Dyzet had not shown herself today.
She’d both dreaded and anticipated the moment she would come face to face with him again. She’d stewed in her own anger, outraged that he had the audacity to make her his prisoner. She’d prayed to the gods to give her courage and refused all food so she could keep her mind sharp and her hatred strong. Now, she finally had the confrontation she’d been anticipating. Her heart raced with the speed of a thousand chariots. But for some reason, she was not nearly as prepared as she thought she would be. Her head pounded. She wanted to say something, but as her lips parted for air, her lungs suddenly deflated. She took a step back and wavered, woozy. The Pharaoh suddenly blurred before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to control the distorted image. Kama frowned at his furrowed brow and then swooned, crumpling to the ground.
Amonmose’s quick reflexes allowed him to catch Kama before she fell. He heard his own sharp intake of breath loudly as she collapsed against him. He’d never held anything tighter in his life. He stared at the ripe beauty in his arms. Her parted lips beckoned him like a siren. His first thought had been to take her to his chambers, but he decided against it. When she regained consciousness, she would feel more comfortable in her own familiar surroundings. He still remembered what a hellion she was the night he met her. If she knew she was in his private room, she would wake up fighting.
He gathered her in his arms and hastily carried her back to her bedchamber. His loud, booming voice echoed throughout the palace as he called for Latmay, his personal physician. Kama’s body was light as a feather, and he effortlessly carried her to her room and delicately placed her on the soft bed.