by Chanta Rand
He went to the open window to get some fresh air and looked down at the garden below. This oasis was one of the few pleasures he had right now. The colors soothed him. The smell of the flowers drifting up to his window relaxed him.
His eyes scanned his colorful paradise, and he breathed in the fragrance of the exotic blooms. His eyes flitted over the treetops and past the bushes to the dense field of daffodils. A soft breeze whispered through the foliage, making the leaves move and take on strange shapes.
Then he noticed something out of place. The full moon illuminated a figure in the distance. His heartbeat quickened. It was a woman. He strained his eyes to see more clearly, but all he could make out was her long, white dress. He stood motionless, staring at her back.
Then she turned, and he could see her heart-shaped face. Her dark, mournful eyes stared into the distance. His breath caught in his throat. It was her—the enchantress from his dreams!
Amonmose rubbed his eyes and forced himself to think clearly. Obviously, he was still dreaming. He rushed to the washstand and splashed his face with water. He pinched himself, and the sharp pain told him he was wide awake.
He hurried back to the window, scanning the garden below, but she was gone. He shook his head. He must be suffering from delusions. There was nothing out there but the plants. He watched for a few moments as the wind blew a delicate breath through the canopy of trees. That was it. The wind had bewitched him into thinking he saw something that was not there.His heart slowed. All a mirage. He crawled back into bed and lay, waiting patiently for morning.
Kama walked slowly through the garden. She’d tried to sleep, but only a few hours after crying on Mutema’s shoulder, she found herself wide awake again. She’d left her chambers quietly and wandered the silent halls of the palace. Her steps had no purpose, and her feet somehow carried her to the garden.
It was a mistake.
Everything reminded her of Amonmose. She passed a tree laden with blue lotus flowers. That was the very spot where they’d shared a passionate kiss. It was a kiss to rival all kisses. The heat of it melted her to the core. Before that moment, she never knew a man could make a woman feel that way.
Walking on, she came to the field of yellow chrysanthemums. This was where Amonmose had professed his love for her with a smoldering look in his amber eyes. She remembered how her heart felt so full that day she thought it would burst.
She stopped when she came to a shallow pool of water surrounded by wildflowers. They had made passionate love next to this pond. He branded her with hot kisses and claimed her as his own. She would never know that sensation again.
Kama hung her head, fighting the tears of bittersweet memories. Why had the gods cursed her so? What had she done to warrant such punishment? She’d given everything she could give, and he’d cast her aside like a beggar’s rags. She’d thought she meant more to him. Obviously, she was wrong.
Kama shivered with the sudden sensation of being watched. She turned in a small circle, but all she heard was the faint wind ruffling the trees. She paused, and then remembered that Amonmose could see the garden from his window. Surely he was there, watching her. She looked up, prepared to meet him eye to eye. One look at her face, and he would know that she still loved him.
She glanced; his window was empty. There was only a fine linen drape fluttering in the breeze. The small hope she had built up broke apart, and Kama ran back to the tunnel’s entrance, swearing she would never step foot in this garden again.
Chapter Twenty
Nadesh paced his quarters. Amonmose had begun asking questions about Kama. He claimed he’d dreamt about an ebony vixen for the past several nights. Nadesh had feigned ignorance. If he had ever doubted it before, it was clear now that Kama was indeed a witch. The Pharaoh had forgotten himself but remembered her.
When Amonmose insisted that he’d seen her in the garden, Nadesh suggested it was a vision brought on by unsated lust. He offered to bring him a slave girl, but Amonmose politely refused. Nadesh scowled and bit his tongue, impatient to call another meeting of the council.
“He claims he saw her in the garden one night,” Nadesh explained to the others. He paced back and forth across the tiled floors of the great room, his fists clenched.
Meketen’s eyes widened. “Did she see him? Did they speak?”
“No. He said he gazed upon her from his bedroom window. He thought he was dreaming, and when he looked again, she was gone.”
“So, he doesn’t know for certain it was her?”
“No, but it is only a matter of time before it happens again.”
“We must see that it doesn’t.” Meketen grimaced.
Hai sneered. “And what do you propose to do? Have her confined to her room as well?”
Meketen turned his cold, dark eyes on him. “Of course not.”
“Thank the gods.”
“We are going to have her confined in prison.”
Hai’s jaw dropped. “Prison? You have gone too far now, Meketen. The girl—”
“The girl is a menace! We cannot afford to have Kama loitering around the palace, meddling in our plans. Amonmose needs time to concentrate without distraction. If she is free, she might be seen, and she will only confuse him.”
Nadesh nodded, momentarily ceasing his pacing. “I agree with Meketen. Kama is a complication we don’t need right now. We cannot trust her to stay in her room, and if we put guards at her door, the palace will be alive with wagging tongues. We need to sequester her away—only until Amonmose has regained his memory and is well enough to deal with her.”
“Latmay said the Pharaoh may never regain his memory.” Hai looked at them both. “Will you keep her imprisoned for years?”
“Be reasonable!” Meketen snapped. “It will not take him years to recover. That old doctor is a pessimist.”
“But—”
“It’s for the best, Hai.” Nadesh glowered, daring the treasurer to challenge him. Hai backed down and slowly looked away. The matter was settled.
That night, Kama awoke to loud sounds outside her door. When she went to investigate, she found Shu surrounded by armed guards.
“Move aside,” one of the men spoke. “We’ve come for the two women.”
Shu’s moved the tip of his sword through the air, holding each soldier at bay. “I’ll spill the blood of any man who dares try to enter this room.”
“We’ve got orders to kill anyone who interferes.”
“I am sworn to protect Kama with my life. If you’re ready to die, then so am I.”
The men exchanged glances and raised their swords.
“Please stop!” Kama cried. She threw the door open wide. “There is no need for violence.” She placed a hand on Shu’s shoulder. “I shall go willingly.”
A short time later, Kama and Mutema found themselves being led to an area deep within the bowels of the palace. As they made their descent, Kama could feel the temperature change. It was cool and damp and dark. A trail of sparingly placed oil lamps dimly lit the corridors. Down here, there were no beautiful pictures, no gold busts, no carvings, and no ornate tile.
They were led into a private room that was not much more than an animal’s den. The earthen floor smelled of age and must. Kama turned on one of the guards. “Why are we being left here?” she asked.
“We’ve been ordered to confine you here,” he answered simply.
“By whom?”
“By order of the Pharaoh.”
Kama gasped. Amuonmose would not dare do this to her. No matter what his personal feelings had become, she refused to believe he would have her imprisoned. “What offense have I been accused of?” she asked.
“There is no charge. You are being held here—indefinitely.”
Kama shook her head. “That cannot be… I demand to go before a court.”
The guard smirked. “Since there is no charge, there is no court to which you can plead your innocence.”
Kama gaped. “So we are being forced to rot in this
dungeon until someone deems it appropriate for us to be released?”
“Yes. I…apologize for the meager accommodations.” Kama gave him a narrow-eyed look as he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes from sweeping over her body. “I will make sure you are well fed and have everything you need while you are staying here.”
Kama fumed. “And I suppose I should thank you for that?”
The guard shrugged. “You could be sharing a room with the other male prisoners. If that’s what—”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Mutema broke in. “We would be grateful for anything you can do to help us.”
He gave her a long look that softened. Maybe there is someone I can talk to on your behalf…”
“Yes?” Mutema’s eyebrows lifted with hope.
“You would need a man with the Pharaoh’s ear. Perhaps Nadesh, the grand vizier—”
“Forget it!” Kama scoffed. “Nadesh would never help me.”
“Your shoulder looks much better,” Latmay said. “Have you had any more pain?”
“No, just these headaches,” Amonmose replied. “Three weeks and still I suffer one each night.”
Latmay pressed his fingers around the angry red scar on Amonmose’s scalp. “It’s healing very nicely. You will always have a small scar, but your crown will cover it when you’re in public. I can see no reason why you should be experiencing headaches.”
Amonmose nodded and sighed. “I have not been sleeping well.”
Latmay opened his black bag. “I can give you something to help you relax.”
“No! No… If I sleep, I shall be haunted by her again.”
“Whom?”
Amonmose stood and shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know her name, or even if she has one. I only know her face, her unequalled beauty. Her skin is dark as ebony and smooth as marble. Her eyes rival the deepest obsidian.”
Latmay listened as the Pharaoh continued on, describing all the lurid details of each dream.
“Each encounter with her is so real. I can hear her voice, feel her skin, smell her scent, taste her lips. We make beautiful love together. She consumes me, body and soul, Latmay. But when I wake, I am alone. I have made inquiries, but no one can recall the stunning creature I have described. I feel certain that this woman is real, from my past, perhaps. My dreams are just too vivid for her to be a fantasy.” His laugh was bitter. “I might be going mad—do you think I’m going mad? I cannot focus on my lessons.” He shook his head. “My thoughts keep drifting back to her…” Amonmose gave Latmay a pitiful look. “Have you any advice?”
Latmay could feel the pain in his voice. What the advisors were doing was wrong. He should end this farce once and for all and tell Amonmose about Kama. As their ruler, he deserved their loyalty. As a man, he deserved their honesty. Amonmose loved her, and no matter how hard the advisors tried, they could not change that.
Latmay took a deep breath. “Pharaoh, there is something you should know…” He paused, wondering how to tell him. A sharp rap at the door made him jump like a nervous feline.
“Yes?” Amonmose called.
Baal opened the door. “The grand vizier has arrived.”
“Give me a few moments before sending him in.”
Baal nodded and closed the door again.
“Continue with what you were saying, doctor.”
Latmay gave the closed door a wary look. “It-it was of no importance,” he said. “I only thought you should know that it is possible you do know this woman while no one else does. You may have met her in your travels, or you may be having a clandestine affair, which no one is privy to.” He closed his bag and walked toward the door. “You should not be afraid of these dreams, Pharaoh. They may very well be the start to helping you regain your memory.”
Amonmose nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Latmay. You have been very helpful, as always.”
The doctor smiled shyly before walking out. He had not been nearly as helpful as he could have been. But in time, he would make up for it. It might cost him his life, but dying honorably was better than living foolishly.
In the weeks that followed, Amonmose slowly regained his confidence. He’d mastered his history lessons on Egypt and the surrounding countries, and had settled into his role as Pharaoh. The beautiful woman still haunted his dreams, but less frequently, and her presence was more of a comfort to him than anything else.
As his confidence rose, he began making decisions on his own. He arranged for a midday meal in his chambers with the advisors to tell them his news.
They all sat down to a lavish feast, featuring dishes Amonmose knew each of his advisors would like.
Hai filled his plate. “Pharaoh, how did you know I like roasted pig with dried plums?”
“I made some inquiries.”
Meketen eyed him curiously. “What other inquiries have you been making, Sire?”
Amonmose shrugged “I have learned that as Pharaoh, I can find out practically anything about anyone I want to—except myself, of course.” He smiled politely and took a sip of wine from his goblet. “That is one of the disadvantages of amnesia. I am at the mercy of others to help me solve my own mysterious past.”
“And we are delighted to assist in any way that we can,” Nadesh said. “You have made exceptional progress. You should be proud of your efforts.”
“I agree. That is precisely why I called all of you here today. I am now ready to resume my role as Pharaoh.”
Meketen paused in lifting his wine goblet. He set it back down with a self-conscious smile. “While it is true you have progressed a great deal, it is still far too soon for you to assume your duties, Sire. We have taken over all of your public functions so you can take your time recovering. You need not worry about making any hasty decisions.”
Amonmose turned and stared at Meketen, boring into him. “I am not asking for your permission. I am telling you what I am going to do. I called you here as a courtesy.”
Hai broke in before Meketen could respond. “It sounds like you are more than ready, Pharaoh. If you want to start out by making a few appearances, we shall arrange it.”
Amonmose gave him a patient look. “I am capable of arranging anything that needs to be done. I will make my first formal appearance three days from now.” He glanced at each of his advisors one by one. “My first act as Pharaoh will be to find my queen.”
Shocked silence hung over the table. Then all three advisors began speaking at once. Nadesh’s deep voice drowned out the others. “This is quite a coincidence,” he said. “Before the Hyksos battle, you discussed taking a bride.”
“Truly?” Amonmose arched an eyebrow. Latmay had told him that he had not fancied any particular woman.
“Indeed. You were concerned about carrying on the royal lineage. You had your eye on a beautiful redhead named Zahra. And I agree, she would be a perfect match.”
Amonmose lifted his hand in objection. “The woman I choose will not be any ordinary woman. She must possess loyalty, poise, intelligence, ambition, and political savvy. She must have beauty beyond compare, with dark skin, beautiful eyes, and delicate bone structure.”
Nadesh’s dark brow furrowed. “It sounds as if you are looking for one particular woman.”
“Perhaps.”
“Is this the woman from your dreams? I have told you, no such person exists.”
Amonmose slammed his goblet of wine down on the table, spilling most of the contents. “She does exist, and I will find her! Send out a royal summons immediately. No, make it a mandate. Failure to comply is an offense punishable by death. I want all of the women within Thebes and the neighboring cities assembled. Whether they are single or married, I want to get a good look at each and every one of them.”
“And what if she is not among them?” Meketen ventured. “What will you do then?”
“She will be there. I know it.”
“Meketen brings wisdom to this issue, Nadesh said. “If this mysterious woman does not show up, you will need to choose
someone. It hardly seems appropriate to assemble all the women and look them over simply to dismiss them.”
Amonmose stood and slowly stroked his goatee, looking at each of his advisors in turn. “Am I not the Pharaoh?” he asked eventually.
“You are,” Nadesh answered.
“Am I not the divine law of this land?”
“Yes.”
He leaned his fists against the table. “Then, I care nothing of wounded feelings and what you consider inappropriate. I am Pharaoh, and I answer to no one!”
Nadesh took a deep breath before speaking. “Your command is our pleasure, Sire. In five days time, the women will be here as you have ordered.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Mutema cradled Kama’s head in her lap. She had been sick for days, sapped of life. She had no appetite and slept more than she should. Mutema rocked them both slowly and coughed, a hard tearing sound. She bent, convulsing, and struggled to breathe between hacks. Six weeks in this dark, damp dungeon was taking its toll. Today, she had finally able to convince the guard that Kama was in need of medical attention.
When the cell door opened, she was shocked to see Latmay standing there, disheveled, as if he’d just been roused from his bed.
He seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
“What deception is this?” he asked the guard. “I was told there was a patient in critical need of my services. Why have you locked these women down here?”
“Orders ,” the guard answered tersely.
Latmay’s jaw worked for a moment. “Ord— Do you know who these women are? When the Pharaoh learns of this, he’ll have your head!”
The guard stared at him. “The Pharaoh was the one to give the order.”
Latmay’s mouth dropped, but he quickly composed himself. “I’ll need some privacy to examine the patient,” he told the guard. “I won’t be long.”