Pharaoh's Desire

by Chanta Rand

  “To be with your daughter, of course.”

  “Can you not simply free her and give her leave to come home?”

  Amonmose stood up and stepped away. He had not expected Mutema to ask so many questions; he supposed he should have. “I cannot answer that.”

  Mutema’s voice did not waver. “Cannot or will not?”

  The inquiry was spoken innocently enough, but Amonmose saw the spark of anger in Mutema’s eyes. This was indeed Kama’s mother. “I came here of my own accord to give you the news of your daughter’s good health. She has no clue that I am here, risking my own death to find you. I’d hoped you would agree to return with me and be reunited with the child you claim you love so dearly. It would mean her utter happiness to see you. So, I ask you again, will you return to Thebes with me?”

  They were wasting time. He needed to get the camp dismantled and out of enemy territory as soon as possible.

  “You have risked your life and the lives of your countrymen, all for the sake of a woman?” Mutema asked. “This seems strange to me. Almost as strange as saving her from a burning village and spiriting her away to your palace. I cannot help but wonder...is she being held captive? Is she your paramour?”

  Amonmose did not hide his shock. “No! I have no need of a harem.” He lifted his head. “I can have any woman I desire.”

  Mutema arched a curious eyebrow. “I do not doubt you’ve seduced your fair share of maidens. But Kama is different from most women.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I could not agree more.”

  “So, if she is free to leave, why didn’t you send her home to me?”

  Amonmose sighed impatiently. “It would have been too dangerous for her to travel alone.”

  “You could have provided an escort or a guard. She is Nubian; she would be safe once she passed your borders.”

  “No woman is safe traveling so far,” he said. “Especially someone as ravishing as Kama.”

  Mutema smirked. “So you admit, you find her beautiful?”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “A man would have to be a blinded in both eyes not to.”

  Mutema cast him a suspicious look. “You could have brought her with you, returned her to me. Instead, you force her to stay with you, with the man who killed her family. Have you not done enough? Do you think I am a fool? You have her confined to your palace, at your mercy, no doubt forcing yourself—”

  “No!” Amonmose bellowed, surprising them both. He threw his hands in the air. “You are the very embodiment of your daughter, always pushing, digging for answers, trying to make me justify my actions. Kama is not my slave. She is not my concubine. I would never force her to do anything. She is more to me than a pretty face, old woman. She is captivating and intelligent and funny and gracious and honorable. She has a strength that I admire, candor that I appreciate, and integrity that I treasure.

  “Yes, she warms my bed, but only because she wants to. She is my soul mate, my confidante. And I cannot and will not part with her.”

  Mutema stood, open-mouthed. “You love her, don’t you?” she asked.

  They were alone in the tent, so there was no need for secrets. “Yes,” he said. “I love her.” He began to pace back and forth slowly. “The night of the fire, I could not take my eyes off her. She fought my men like a wildcat, and I’d never seen that quality in a woman before. It piqued my interest. So, I took her away as a captive, but it is she who has stolen my heart.” He gave Mutema a challenging look. “I love her and I will not be without her. I came to find you and bring you back so she will never think of leaving. If you want to come with me, I think it will make us all very happy. But if you will not, nothing has changed. I will not surrender her.”

  Mutema’s gaze scoured him up and down “I admire your honesty,” she said. “And I can see that you truly are taken with her. I, too, only want happiness for my daughter. I will accompany you to Thebes, Pharaoh.”

  He let out a breath he hadn’t meant to be holding. “Thank you.” Amonmose clasped her tiny hands in his. He breathed deeply and let out a nervous laugh.

  “What do you find so humorous?” Mutema asked.

  “Of all the wars I have fought and all the enemies I have faced, I do not think I have met two worthier adversaries than you and Kama.”

  Mutema smiled, revealing her perfect white teeth. “Just be grateful that we are both on your side,” she said. “For no matter how mighty a man is, no defense can help him in the battle against a woman’s contempt.”

  Amonmose merely smiled.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nadesh presided over the second stage of the foundation ceremony. His long, slender fingers passed a bowl of incense to the high priest, who in turn placed the bowl on the temple’s offering table. The table was laden with flowers and elaborate garlands meant to symbolize growth and renewal. Several lower-ranking priests calmly waved fans, spreading the scent of the incense. Before entering the temple, the priests had purified themselves in water and then shaved their bodies from head to toe. They left no hair untouched, from ankle to eyebrow.

  In addition to their rituals of purity, the priests were devoted scholars. They had to be familiar with every ceremony. They had to know each step, each movement, each song, and each prayer associated with all the temple rituals. They had to be intimately familiar with every god and goddess, knowing what pleased each one and what did not. They had to be prepared for any occasion, any shift in the public attitude, any change in the whim of the Pharaoh.

  Nadesh watched them carefully as they carried out the precise steps for today’s ceremony. The foundation ceremony was a critical step in the building process for a new temple. As each stage of construction was completed, it was blessed with a ceremony. Many things could go wrong during building: accidents, deaths, weather delays. So far, no men had been killed on this project, and everything was in budget and on schedule.

  Nadesh’s face showed no sign of emotion as he fulfilled his duties. Duties that Amonmose should be doing, instead of traipsing about the countryside putting his life in jeopardy. The nerve! Sending some young upstart with a note telling him of his whereabouts. There was a time when Amonmose did not make a move without consulting his grand vizier. But Amonmose no longer wanted or needed his advice. He had a new confidante, and he’d made it clear that anyone who did not approve of Kama would be looked upon as a traitor. There was nothing Nadesh could do but bide his time. He’d outlasted every woman Amonmose had fancied, and, eventually, he would outlast Kama as well.

  Nadesh lit a candle and started chanting the required incantations, his deep voice filling the air. He was ill and would rather spend his time laying in the comfort of his bed, with his two wives taking turns feeding him soothing honey beer.

  The only good thing about Amonmose’s absence was that no one had to see him flaunting his Nubian trophy. Kama kept to herself and quietly awaited Amonmose’s return. For this, Nadesh was happy. Each time he saw her, he thought of the night in Aswan where she made his manhood rigid with raw desire. The lust was incomparable. He’d procured the talents of a prostitute, who did things his wives would not dream of doing. But days later, a horrible burning threatened to eat his body alive. The whore had given him a disease that made his loins burn like fire.. He’d tried to track her down, but she was nowhere to be found. If he laid eyes on that slut again, he’d have her skinned alive. …

  The sound of a tambourine filled the air, signaling the end of the ceremony. Nadesh watched as a royal scribe chronicled the event. When he stopped, they were all free to go.

  Nadesh had already spoken with Hai and Meketen, and they all agreed that a radical solution was needed to get their pharaoh back on track. They had all known him since his birth and seen him through the death of his parents. They’d helped him rebuild a failing dynasty and restore the kingdom to the magnificence of its past. Amonmose’s reputation and legacy weren’t the only ones at stake. They had all become powerful men, and they would do anythin
g to keep that power. Anything.

  Kama watched the small fingers of her teacher expertly pluck the strings of the lyre. The sweet melody that flowed from each cord floated through the air and wrapped itself around her like a warm breeze. She closed her eyes, momentarily hypnotized.

  “No, no, no!” she heard a voice call out. The notes ceased, and she was abruptly pulled from her reverie. “Kama, how can you learn how to play with your eyes closed?”

  Kama gave an apologetic look. “I beg your pardon, Dyzet. You play so beautifully, it is hard to focus on the lesson.”

  Dyzet smiled at the flattery. “Thank you. But if you want me to teach you, you really must pay attention to what I’m doing. Watch my hands.”

  Kama willed herself to concentrate. These past two weeks, she’d done everything she could think of to pass the time and distract herself from thoughts of Amonmose. She watched as Dyzet softly caressed each string on the lyre.

  “Kama, do you see how I place my second finger on this string and my third finger here? Now, you try.”

  Kama played the very same chords, but her strained tune was the opposite of the Dyzet’s heavenly melody.

  “Ugh.” Dyzet winced. “It sounds like two owls having a screeching contest.”

  Both women laughed. “Your lyre is obviously better than mine,” Kama said.

  “They are identical. You are simply not trying hard enough. I think perhaps your focus is elsewhere.”

  Kama blushed. “Am I so transparent?”

  Dyzet grinned. “Yes, but who can blame you? I wish I had the attention of a handsome man who adored me.”

  Kama laughed with delight. “You’ve lifted my spirits, Dyzet. I think I am ready to continue our lesson,” she declared. “The owls shouldn’t be allowed to have all the fun!”

  “Oh no. I think you have tortured my ears enough! Let us try again on the morrow. And next time,” she said, “I want you to put your heart into it.”

  “You have my promise.”

  Dyzet stood up and placed her lyre aside. “Speaking of promises, I told father I would help him with the maps today. I must take my leave.” She pecked Kama on the cheek. “I shall see you on the morrow.”

  Kama yawned as she watched Dyzet leave. She had tossed and turned in bed last night, and today, her body was reminding her. She retreated to Amonmose’s chambers for a nap.

  When she arrived at the private chambers that she and Amonmose now shared, she noticed the drapes were pulled back, letting the warm afternoon sun bathe the room in its brilliant glow. When she had left this morning, the drapes had been closed.

  Something fluttering on the floor caught Kama’s eye. A gentle wind from the window pushed a tiny, white lotus flower along the floor. It tumbled into another and then another, and Kama realized a trail of petals beckoned her to the bedroom suite. Tentatively, she followed the path, her heart racing in anticipation. She stopped dead. There, lying comfortably on the bed was the object of her affection. He lounged on his back, legs crossed at his ankles and his hands clasped behind his head.

  She let out a yelp of delight.

  “Gods be praised, you are a sight for weary eyes,” he said.

  Kama ran to him and jumped on the bed, pressing kisses all over his face and throat. Amonmose wrapped her in his arms and claimed her lips with a long, slow kiss. He ran his hands down the length of her form.

  “I have missed you,” he murmured against her soft lips.

  Kama felt herself yielding to his tender touch, a touch she had longed for. After leaving without so much as a goodbye, he was back in her arms—wait! She pulled away and pounded his chest with her fists.

  “How dare you!” She scowled. “You think you can leave in the middle of the night with no word and return here expecting me to fall into your arms? What kind of woman do you think I am?” She sat up and glared at him.

  Amonmose flashed her his famous arrogant smile. “I know what kind of woman you are. You are the kind of woman who inflamed my desire from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are the kind of woman who makes my heart thunder and my loins harden. You are the kind of woman who has caused me to ride day and night to get back to you.” His look turned smoldering. “You are my woman.”

  Kama’s pulse quickened, and she momentarily forgot her protests.

  Amonmose caressed her bottom lip with his finger. “Did you miss me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But I am still angry with you for leaving without telling me.” She crossed her arms in defiance.

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “What if I told you that I was on an important mission, one that required total secrecy?”

  “I would still be upset.” She pouted.

  “And what if I told you I had to bring something back that I could entrust no one to retrieve but myself?”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Very well. But what if I could promise that you’d never be cross with me again once you found out what I have brought back for you?”

  Her interest piqued. “I am listening.”

  Abruptly, he stood up, pulling her with him. “Come with me, and I will show you.” She took his hand, and he swept her into his arms. “You will not be disappointed.”

  Kama followed Amonmose from their bedchamber through the familiar hallways of grandiose statues, majestic paintings, and regal carvings.. She knew this area of the palace better than any other and surmised where they were going. Amonmose, as she had guessed, stopped outside the door to her room.

  “Why are we here?” Kama asked, confused.

  “There is something in here I want you to see. It’s a secret, and I wanted you to be the first to know of it.”

  Kama smiled. So, he had arranged for her room to be decorated? Perhaps he had returned with beautiful fabrics or some ornate furnishings? But why decorate her chambers when she was sharing his bed? Was he trying to tell her something?

  Kama entered the room, expecting to be impressed by the new décor. She instead found herself looking into the eyes of a woman who bore an incredible resemblance to her mother. “What—what sorcery is this?” she asked, voice airy and unsteady. The specter had the same dark, kohl-lined eyes, the same long nose, and the same determined chin. Her hair, however, was white as the moon. Stunned, Kama stood rooted in place, her eyes wide.

  The woman rushed to her and threw her arms around her, hugging her fiercely. “Daughter…” Her words choked off.

  But it was her mother’s voice, and Kama began crying as she squeezed her back. “Mother.”

  The woman nodded against her shoulder, and they sobbed in each other’s arms, oblivious to anyone else in the room.

  Mutema sniffled and pulled back, holding Kama at arm’s length so she could see. “You have ripened as a woman since last I saw you. You glow, and your eyes shine brighter than a star.”

  “H-how did you find me?” Kama asked, still unable to stop her tears.

  “I didn’t. I…believed you were dead. Amonmose found me.”

  “But how—” Kama turned around, but Amonmose had disappeared from the room.

  Mutema let her go and settled herself on Kama’s old bed. She patted the space next to her. “Sit down,” she said, “and let me fill in the details for you.”

  Kama listened as her mother told her the story of her first meeting with the Pharaoh. When Mutema told her she thought Amonmose was the magistrate, Kama laughed, but she immediately sobered when she found out her mother was to be evicted.

  She clasped Mutema’s hand in hers. “I am so sorry.”

  Mutema gave her a sad smile. “I knew no misery so great as when I learned of your death. And now, I know no joy so abundant since learning that you are alive.”

  Kama hugged her mother and kissed her on both cheeks. She stared at her for a moment and then touched her mother’s hair tentatively. “How did your hair turn so white?”

  Fresh tears gathered in Mutema’s eyes as she spoke. “I believe every seed of despair has been planted there. When
I learned that all three of you were dead, I could not eat; I could not sleep; I could not stop crying. I would have done anything to take your place.”

  “Oh, mother…”

  Mutema touched Kama’s long, tightly braided locks, fighting for her composure. “Enough about me. I am happy to see you are well. Although Latmay did tell me you were a horrible patient.”

  Kama scoffed and wiped at her eyes. “Well, you have to consider the circumstances under which I came here. I was told that I was to be the Pharaoh’s concubine. Latmay seemed kind, but how could I befriend my captors?” She paused, her voice cracking. “What had I done to deserve being alive? Satati perished before my eyes. I could not save her, and it could just as easily have been me.” Kama pulled the Pakhet amulet from beneath her tunic. “She gave this to me the day before her wedding. It is all I have to remember her by.”

  Mutema squeezed Kama’s hand. “No. You have more than that. You have fond memories of her, and that is how she would want to be honored. You cannot blame yourself for her death.”

  Kama nodded. “I know, but…somehow, I feel I am betraying her memory by…giving myself to the man responsible for her death.” Kama looked at the floor, as she struggled with her words. “I tried to hate Amonmose. But when I finally met him, he did not seem like the monster I’d imagined. He seemed dignified and respectable, even likable. I want you to know, he did not force himself on me. In fact, it was just the opposite. He wooed me.

  “I have never met a man with such confidence and charisma. I was drawn to him, and I could not fight my attraction,” Kama confessed. “You must be ashamed of me…”

  Mutema brushed her hand over Kama’s hair, soothing away the guilt. “I know what it means to fight your attraction for a man. You never knew this, but Akahmen and I were lovers.” Kama’s eyes widened in shock, and Mutema smiled. “He made me feel like a queen. He understood me. And he loved me. Sometimes, no matter how much a woman’s head denies it, the heart will always tell the truth.

  “I would never be ashamed of you, Kama. Just like the fire, your passion is something you cannot control. And it seems the same is true for the Pharaoh. Your beauty caught his eye, so he spared you. I too, feel torn between loathing him and forgiving him. But I am grateful that He risked his life to find me and bring us together.”