He bought roasted quail for them at one of the stalls and seated her on a nearby bench, going back for a pitcher of beer. “Your town is pleasant, welcoming,” he said, setting the container down before accepting the drumstick she handed him.
Sipping at the beer, Tyema smiled. “You’re too kind. I’m sure it must seem rural and ordinary to someone who’s traveled the length of the Nile or lived in Thebes.”
“I’ve been to the wilds of Kush, seen the mountains where the Nile is born, I’ve been many places and each has its own form of charm. Right now I can’t remember anywhere half so attractive,” he said with a wink. “I’m under the spell, of the town and the company.”
Feeling her cheeks grow hot with a blush, Tyema took another swallow of the beer, although she rarely drank. “I’m sure the glib words go well with the ladies in Thebes.” Oh dear, he’ll take offense at my blunt speech, but he does sound quite practiced at flattery.
Sahure was unfazed, grinning, little crinkles of amusement around his eyes. “Ah, you see right through me.” Breaking apart the quail, he offered her a succulent morsel on the tip of his knife. “Most women smile and don’t examine my words like a scribe with a messy slate.”
“I—I’m no good at social chatter,” she confessed, taking the small bite in her fingertips and carrying it to her mouth. She chewed daintily, savoring the taste before swallowing. “I’m too direct.”
“We’re conversing, Lady Ema, not chattering. And I enjoy a challenge. Clearly more diligence on my part is required, to offer you only the most exquisitely crafted compliments. Or none at all.” He took a long drink of the beer. “Tell me more about the temple of Horus. I’ve been told the building hasn’t been here as long as the original temple of Sobek. From what I could see of the ruins earlier, your temple must have been established hundreds of years ago? Well, the town’s name itself says as much.”
She nodded. “We believe Sobek’s temple has been in this spot on the Nile since the time of the first pharaohs, even before the pyramids were built. The temple of Horus was erected a mere thirty or forty years ago.” Tyema felt safer, more at ease, sticking to a factual discussion of landmarks and local history. She was well versed in both. “Our new temple to Sobek was built by your uncle fifteen years ago.”
Sahure didn’t offer any more outrageous compliments during dinner. She couldn’t decide whether to be glad or sorry. Flirting was a dangerous, intoxicating novelty to her, no matter how practiced his tongue might be, so on the whole she was probably better off not trying to match him honeyed word for word.
After they’d finished eating, he escorted her to the square to watch a performance of the old scribes’ tale “The Shipwrecked Sailor”, put on by a traveling company. Tyema laughed and applauded along with everyone else. She couldn’t remember an evening where she’d just had fun, or felt so at ease.
“I’ve been shipwrecked and let me tell you, it isn’t nearly as entertaining as these players make it appear,” he said in her ear as they left the play. “Of course the island I washed up on had no fifty foot talking snakes, no enchanted dancing girls, nothing but scrub palms and sand.” Reaching out, he snagged a red flower from the stall they were passing, dropping a small coin in the vendor’s palm. “Stand still,” he ordered. Tucking the flower behind Tyema’s ear, he kissed her cheek before taking her hand again. “Now what, my lovely lady? Shall we go inspect the temple of Horus, compare it to yours?”
Flustered, wondering if anyone she knew had seen his bold gesture, she put a hand to the flower, pulling it from her hair. “I think I’d better be going.” She sniffed the bruised petals.
“But it’s early yet—surely the festivities will go until dawn.” He waved his hand at the crowd around them. “I see no signs of flagging energy or loss of enthusiasm. The beer still flows in rivers.”
“I have duties, rituals to conduct at midmorning.” Truth, as far as it went, she did have to sing while the effigy of Sobek was offered food and drink, before the lesser priestesses draped the statue in fine linen robes and golden jewelry set with turquoise and other gems.
Sahure made an opening through the throng and led her to a less crowded part of the main street. “If you insist on cutting the night short, we’ll go to the inn, have my horses put to the chariot and I’ll drive you back.”
“No need for me to cause you the trouble. I’ve family in town.” Tyema pointed vaguely to the east. “I’ll stay with them and walk to the temple at dawn.”
“Now that I cannot allow,” he said, gazing into her eyes, a frown on his face. “It’s quite a distance and you’ll doubtless have a full day of work.”
Twirling the flower in her fingers, she chuckled at the idea of requiring so much cosseting. “I walk back and forth to town all the time.” Well I would if I ever left the temple grounds. “I’m not one of your delicate Theban girls. Out here in the country we walk everywhere.”
He escorted her to her family’s home, where her oldest sister and her husband, the captain of the guard, now dwelt. He didn’t try to kiss her again, saying good night before she slipped through the gate. Tyema wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or regretful. She waited in the deserted courtyard for a good ten minutes, before re-entering the street. Glancing over her shoulder at the house, she shuddered and pulled her shawl more closely around her shoulders. I swore not to ever spend another night under their roof and I’m not starting now. As always she was secure in the knowledge that no one—not human, animal or demon—would interfere with her, protected as she was by Sobek’s amulet around her neck. A deserted road in the moonlight held no terrors for her, unlike the crowded, brightly lit village. Or her late father’s old home.
***
As Tyema led the midmorning ceremony, chanting the hymns to Sobek, she was more conscious than usual of the small but attentive crowd of worshippers. Normally she blotted out any thought of the onlookers and lost herself in singing the sacred music. Today she wondered if Sahure was there in the outer sanctuary and whether he’d be upset to learn she hadn’t told him her true identity. Her anxiety wasn’t relieved any by the fact he’d appeared in at least one of her dreams as well, smiling and holding out another red flower she’d been too frightened to accept. Awakening from the dream with a gasp, she couldn’t go back to sleep, disturbed by unfamiliar thoughts and desires. Tossing and turning left her tired. By the time the ceremony was over and she was free to retreat to her office in the temple’s new wing, tension was rising in her like a wave. A small headache pounded over her left eye, spreading tentacles of pain through her head.
The temple scribe Jemkhufu was waiting in her private study, arms full of scrolls and tablets. He bowed as she entered, already enumerating the tasks ahead. “We’ve a busy morning ahead of us, my lady. Reports on the grain harvest, the tally sheets for the papyrus shipment—”
Tyema thanked her maids as they removed the complicated headdress and wig, substituting a simpler style, accented with a small circlet bearing Sobek’s cartouche in relief. As the women took the ceremonial items away to be stored for tomorrow’s rituals, she rubbed her forehead and sat in her gold—and—ebony chair. Putting her feet on the hippo shaped stool, she forced herself to ask the one thing she cared about right now. “Are there any audiences?”
Surprised, he moved his quill down the list of items on the scroll, ticking each off as he went. “Why, yes, there’s a Captain Sahure who requests a meeting.” With a satisfied sneer on his thin lips, the scribe raised one eyebrow. “I told him to wait until tomorrow as your schedule was full today.”
“I’ll see him now.” Might as well get it over with. Last night was a pleasant diversion, but he’ll be angry I deceived him and I’ve no more time to indulge myself in foolishness. Why did I let myself be tempted into spending the entire evening in his company? She rubbed her forehead where the ceremonial sun-disk had ridden so heavily on her head.
“Are you sure, my lady?“ Jemkhufu set down his tablet and quill and came around the
table to stand next to her, exaggerated concern in his every move, as if she were a fragile piece of statuary. He patted her shoulder. “You’re pale. Another headache?”
Trapped in the chair, Tyema leaned back, shrugging his hand off her body. “I’ll be fine. I have herb infused syrup here, made from my late grandmother’s recipe.” She indicated the duck shaped pitcher on her table. “It’s not your job to worry after my health.”
He retreated a step or two but stayed in the room. “Your health concerns me because I care, my lady. You’re important to the temple—and to me.” Tilting his head, he gave her a look of such studied significance, Tyema was tempted to laugh. Unfortunately she knew he was utterly serious.
“The Great One Sobek watches over me at all times.” Probably best to remind this overly familiar scribe of the fact. “I need no human intervention so turn your attentiveness in other directions.” From the downcast expression on his face, now she was sure she’d hurt his feelings. Exasperation made her tone unusually sharp. “Summon the captain so I can hear his business with our temple.” She waved one hand at the door.
The scribe bowed low and left the chamber.
He’s getting to be a bit much, too solicitous. He needs to find a nice girl in the village and settle down. There’s never going to be anything between us. The scribe was short, older than her by several seasons of the Nile, full of his own importance and prone to long speeches. He’d lost a few teeth and he wore too much body perfume. Shaking her head and blowing out a breath in disgust at the mere idea of an affair with the man, Tyema fanned herself and took a sip of water. She probably needed to contact another temple and arrange a transfer of scribes before Jemkhufu crossed the line and said or did something she couldn’t ignore. Sobek would kill him and throw his ka to Ammit the Destroyer for breakfast if the scribe made advances to Tyema against her will.
Guess this is one letter I’ll have to write myself.
Raising a hand to stroke her cheek, she relived Sahure’s chaste kiss and the way her body had reacted favorably to his proximity. She knew why she’d been tempted to visit the festival with him, aside from his obvious attractiveness and smooth Theban charm. Her life was calm, orderly, peaceful…and lonely. I run the temple, I lead the observances, I give direction to the staff, and I see my family occasionally. But she’d deliberately constructed her life to be tranquil, after the turbulent, awful events of her childhood, hadn’t she? So how could she complain now, if safe routine had become a cell, one she saw no way of escaping? At least her decision to venture out for one night with a stranger had been fun.
“May I present Captain Sahure, of Pharaoh’s Own Guards, nephew of Nomarch Ienhotep,” said the scribe as he reentered the room, followed by the warrior. Bowing to Tyema, Jemkhufu added an admonition to the visitor. “Be honored to enter the presence of High Priestess Tyema.”
She caught her breath as Sahure sauntered in, resplendent in his full uniform, the golden falcon badge prominent on the leather straps crossing his broad chest, scarlet cloak swirling around his legs. He was even more handsome than she’d remembered. He bowed, “Good morning to you, my lady.”
“And to you, captain.” With great effort, she kept a smile from forming on her lips. Unfamiliar heat pulsed in her core and she suppressed the urge to shift her hips in response.
“I appreciate your seeing me today instead of tomorrow,” he said, staring at her with narrowed eyes.
Oh, I couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Tyema remained regally seated in her chair with an effort, curling her fingers tight against the desire to touch him. “I’m sure your business is urgent.”
“Indeed, I’m here at the command of Pharaoh, very pressing affairs.” He raised his eyebrows and gave a sideways glance at the scribe.
“You may go, Jemkhufu,” she said, following Sahure’s line of sight.
“But, my lady, what if notes need to be taken?” The scribe was startled, his eyes opening wide and his mouth hanging open. Tyema never met with anyone alone, other than the god Sobek, so she wasn’t surprised by Jemkhufu’s reaction. Swallowing hard, the scribe glared at Sahure while questioning her order for privacy again. “Are you sure you won’t need me?”
She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”
The scribe gathered up his tablets, rolls of blank papyrus and sharpened quills in an untidy armful and backed from the room, closing the door. She heard him complaining to the guard about the unscheduled audience interfering with the day as the portal closed.
Before she could say anything, Sahure was standing in front of her, his arms caging her in the chair. “And I thought Theban ladies played games,” he said. “Imagine my surprise this morning to see that the high priestess of Sobek was none other than my little waif from the previous evening. She whom I thought to be Ema was in reality the legendary and rarely seen Tyema herself.”
“Waif?” Tyema couldn’t decide whether to be amused or insulted. True the plain dress wasn’t the best garment in her wardrobe but surely it didn’t give such an insignificant impression?
“Were you laughing at me the entire evening?” His tone was cold. “Did you enjoy your masquerade?”
She put one hand on his chest, trying to push him away, but under her fingers his body was solid muscle, an unyielding wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t set out to deceive you.”
He stared at her for a long moment before releasing the chair. He backed up a step. Hands on hips, he asked, “Then why the lie?”
Pointing a finger at him, she said, “You just assumed I was a simple priestess. Ema is the pet name my family calls me, if you must know. Please, I had such a lovely, rare time last night, don’t ruin it with anger today. I’m sorry.”
“You’re right, I did assume.” Eyes narrowed, he studied her more closely. “The innkeeper was saying this morning you never come to the village, you’re never seen away from this temple. Of course he wasn’t addressing this remark to me and when he noticed me standing there, he shut up and scurried into the kitchen. His embarrassed departure was my first clue perhaps the girl I’d been enchanted by wasn’t what she seemed.”
“Oh dear, I was hoping no one in the family had seen me.” Tyema knew she’d be dealing with the gossip and fallout of her excursion for a long time. Her aunts, nieces and female cousins would want all the details, none of which she planned to supply, innocuous though the night had been.
“Apparently we’re the talk of the entire town today, I assure you. Not that I care,” he said.
No, for you’ll be departing for Thebes all too soon, while I stay here. Tyema didn’t know what to say next. She was unused to dealing with a man on a personal level. All her encounters with people were about the temple, about Sobek’s business, and those interactions she could handle. She decided to switch the conversation to his reason for visiting the area. “I’m sure the Great One will be fine with anywhere you decide to build a river port, as long as the site isn’t close to this temple complex. The beach below is private for his use.”
“Oh no you don’t, we aren’t done with the subject of last night yet.” He picked up a gilded crocodile statue on the desk, examined it briefly before setting it down. “Does the god restrict your comings and goings? Are you going to be in trouble?” He frowned.
“What?” Wrinkling her brow, Tyema tried to follow the train of thought. “No, Sobek is very considerate of me.”
The captain from Thebes didn’t seem pleased by the answer, clenching his jaw. “Are you sworn to serve him personally, then?”
Now she saw where his thoughts were running. “Of course not! Sobek refers to me as his little sister, when I see him.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t her place to explain to this relative stranger what the exact relationship between the god and herself was. No one this side of the Afterlife knew the Great One was married to her half-sister Merys, living with her in the home of the gods, by grace of the goddess Isis. “I merely do him honor as a priestess. Many in my f
amily have been priestesses at this temple in past generations. He protects me.”
Throwing out his arms, palms up, Sahure had exasperation written on his face. “Then why is your attending the festivities in the village with me such wonderment? Even the god Horus is probably speaking of it today.”
“I rarely go outside the temple compound, and my reasons are strictly my own,” she said, striving for dignity, her heart racing a bit. “I thank you again for the dinner and the evening’s entertainment. Now, I’m sure I must have others waiting for a moment of my time on temple business. My scribe said there was a full slate.”
He wandered over to admire a fresco on the east wall, of Sobek amid a gathering of his crocodiles, rendered in vivid colors. “Too bad you never leave the grounds. That’s going to present a challenge to me teaching you to drive a chariot while I’m here.” Glancing at her over his shoulder, Sahure grinned, one eyebrow raised.
Mouth open, she simply stared at him for a long moment.
“Shifting into the frog goddess Heqet now?” he teased. “Careful, you’ll be catching flying insects.”
Shutting her mouth with an audible snap of her teeth, she started to chuckle, then laughed. “Could we start over?” She held out one hand. “I’m Tyema, high priestess of Sobek in the Ibis Nome, but you may call me Ema.”
He walked to her chair. “Much better,” he said, taking her hand and bowing respectfully as if she were the queen. “I’m Captain Sahure, sent by Pharaoh to survey the Nile in this area, to further his investigation into the possibility of building a new port.”
Magic of the Nile Page 2