by Naomi Ruppin
“I do. Amisi, from Egypt.”
“Indeed. You’ll have noticed that she’s with child. You noted it in your report. I only came across that fact recently, when I had time to read your detailed lists.”
“May the child be born in a fortunate hour,” I murmured politely.
“That’s unlikely,” he said grimly. “By my count, if the child were mine, Amisi is now nine and a half months pregnant.”
I stared at him, stunned and speechless. What he was implying was that Amisi was guilty of adultery and her partner was also guilty of treason. Both crimes were punishable by death. Was this the case he wanted me to investigate?
“This is the one thing I cannot and will not tolerate from any woman,” he continued. “Or any man, for that matter. I’d rather a man turn on me in the battlefield wielding iron than in the bed chamber.”
“How can you be so sure this is the case?” I said slowly. “You have so many wives. You can’t possibly remember when you…” Even finishing the sentence was distasteful to me. How could I conceivably examine a case involving my own father’s marital habits?
“You’ll find I have an unusual memory.”
“Even so.” I thought of something else. “Also, I’ve heard that some pregnancies are prolonged and can last longer than nine months.”
“That is so. Though it’s rare that the delay is more than a few days.”
“What does Amisi say?”
“She denies any act of betrayal. She claims to not remember the precise time of my last visit to her. She says she’s in her ninth month of pregnancy.”
I thought of Amisi’s delicate face, her quaint phrasings, her diffident manner. I couldn’t believe she was capable of such a misdeed.
“I’ll give you one month to complete your investigation,” the king went on. “But mind, I’ll need the identity of the traitor and I want solid proof, either a witness or a confession.”
“But what if Amisi’s innocent? How can I prove that? What if you’re mistaken in your recollection?”
“I am not.” There was no arguing with his implacable self-confidence.
“Well, what if this is just a prolonged pregnancy? In your own court you’ve deemed a ten-month pregnancy legitimate.”
He looked at me in irritation and I could see him considering, eying me as if I were a dish he hadn’t quite decided whether to taste.
“Justice must be consistent,” I reminded him.
At last he said, “If she gives birth within the next two weeks, I’ll allow her the benefit of the doubt. That would be ten months from our last meeting. But let it be one day more and I’ll consider her guilty, unless you prove otherwise.”
“If Amisi does give birth in two weeks, will you give me another case?”
“We’ll discuss that if it happens.”
Now it was my turn to consider. If Amisi truly was an adulteress it might be possible to prove it, but it might be impossible to prove that she wasn’t, even if that were the truth.
“If I succeed, might I…might I not cause Amisi’s death?” I said faintly.
“That’s an outcome a judge must sometimes reach. You were instructing me on justice a moment ago. It’s not always kind.”
In convincing the king to assign me a case, I’d achieved what I’d set out to do, but my courage quailed at the enormity of the task and its implications. Surely he could be persuaded…
“This is not quite the sort of thing I had in mind,” I said. “This is no small matter. I had thought to take one of the lesser cases off your hands. Perhaps a theft, a dispute…”
The king expelled a violent breath.
“Abigail, you tire me now with your arguments. Offering to solve a case was your idea. This is how you can be of most use to me. Or we can forget the matter, I’ll deal with Amisi as I see fit, and you can prepare for your nuptials.”
I frantically tried to think what Moth would advise me, or Khepri. But I was facing the king alone and his fiery gaze demanded a decision. I took a deep breath.
“I’ll do it.”
Part 2: The Truth
Chapter Six
Shattered Idols
For many hours after I left the king’s chambers, I didn’t bother to try and sleep. I climbed the stairs to the balcony overlooking the women’s courtyard and stood there, leaning my elbows on the railing.
Was I better or worse off than before my interview with the king? On the one hand, I now had some small chance to win my freedom. Should I succeed, I’d be free of the loathsome Nathan, and I could become a judge—though what had possessed me to think myself competent to be one was now entirely unclear to me.
But the case the king had assigned me seemed nearly impossible. What if Amisi’s child simply was the king’s? How could I possibly prove that? The child would hardly be born with a tiny crown on its head. Even worse, what if it wasn’t the king’s? I would have to strive to prove that, and if I did, Amisi and her lover would be put to death. I looked out over the encampment, trying to remember where Amisi’s tent was among the scores now barely illuminated by moonlight. She had trustingly let me into her dwelling and answered my questions, and with my foolish census I myself had unintentionally stirred up this trouble. Now I would have to interrogate her, looking for a lie, pressing for a confession. I had wanted to get to know my father—well, now I would have to question him about the most intimate details of his life.
What was going on in the king’s mind? Why had he consented to hand me over to Nathan in the first place? Did he owe something to Nathan? Did he see me as a threat? If so, what was my crime: winning at Jang-Cheh, or daring to learn to read? Or was he punishing me for unwittingly bringing him the news of Amisi’s supposed infidelity? And why had he then given me a reprieve? Had I succeeded in touching his conscience? Really I should hate him as freely as I did Nathan. A father should hold his daughter’s happiness above all other considerations. But in spite of the anger I did feel towards him, I couldn’t help still feeling that I had a connection with him, and that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to me.
There was no turning back now. The damage was done; Amisi’s pregnancy had been brought to the king’s attention and he seemed convinced of her guilt. I might have no choice but to confirm his suspicions, but I was also the only one who might be able to save her. I groaned and pulled hard at my own hair. What a mess it was, with no one to blame but myself. I was a person who liked to plan ahead, to anticipate possible outcomes and have my responses ready, as in Jang-Cheh. But in that game, despite the infinite possibilities, the pieces’ moves were dictated by beautifully predictable rules. When it came to relationships among people, the clean lines of logic were obscured and twisted by lies, love, fear, jealousy and anger.
I resolved to meet the challenge as best I could. New facts were more likely to come to light if I acted than if I didn’t. Of course, some of those facts might be unwelcome. But they would allow me to better plan my next move. Oh, if only I could make things right both for myself and for Amisi! It seemed too much to hope for.
I stayed on the balcony until I began to shiver from the cold night winds, then went to my tent. It was cold there too, but I pulled several woolen blankets over myself and fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from the spinning of my thoughts.
I was awoken by the swish of my tent flap being drawn aside. When I opened my eyes I saw Timna, a servant girl of about my age. Her hair was black, like mine, but curly as sheep’s wool and seeming to have a life of its own, swinging and bobbing every time she moved her head until it came to rest like a dark cloud upon her shoulders.
“Lady, are you awake?” she said in a loud whisper.
I gave the only logical reply to that question.
“Good morning, then. I have a message for you. Your friend Joel is waiting for you in the main courtyard.”
Of course Moth would be anxious to know what had happened with the king. If he was waiting for me, he must have skipped his morning training session
, a drastic measure that not even sickness could persuade him to take.
“Thank you, Timna. Please tell him I’ll join him as soon as I can.”
I hadn’t bothered to undress before going to sleep the night before, so I just put on my shoes and swiped at my hair once or twice.
If you were a bird looking at the palace from above, you would see it has the shape of a lyre’s frame—one with square corners rather than curved. The right arm housed the women’s quarters. The main courtyard was enclosed by the three-sided frame, where the lyre’s strings would be. It was used to entertain visitors and to host mixed gatherings of men and women. A path bisected the courtyard, with rows of date palms on either side, leading from the wall’s main gate to the palace entrance. More palms were scattered throughout the courtyard, with cushions, benches and tables placed in their shade in clusters. Oleander bushes lined the outer rims of the courtyard. Gold, jeweled ornaments in the shape of pomegranates hung from the palm fronds, twisting and glittering in the breeze. A small group of men, probably some of the king’s officials, sat in one corner of the courtyard, and Moth was waiting for me a discreet distance from them. Timna was sitting quite close to him and they appeared to be chatting companionably. I felt a twinge of annoyance. Surely there was something else she was supposed to be doing.
“Timna, could you please bring me a breakfast plate?” I said.
“Yes, lady.” Timna smiled at Moth and took her leave.
I sat on a cushion beside Moth and told him everything that had happened in the king’s chambers the night before. His face grew darker as the story progressed.
“Well, at least he accepted the wager,” he finally said. “But what a task he’s set you! It’s mad. It sounds impossible. Maybe he chose it that way on purpose. I think we need to be making other plans at the same time, in case you fail. Meanwhile, what can I do to help?”
“Thanks, Moth,” I said. “First I just need to think. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do.”
Moth left to join his training session belatedly. More people came to sit in the courtyard, and their conversations swelled up around me. I needed solitude and quiet, two things that were hard to come by in the palace. I drifted out of the courtyard, looking for a secluded spot. I had settled on the lone olive tree behind the Hall of the Throne, when I noticed that the Hall itself was silent. Court was not in session, and apparently there were no lessons for the royal sons that day either. I entered the Hall through its back door. I’d never seen it so orderly. The floor was swept clean and the benches were perfectly aligned with each other. The screen had been erected before the stage so the king’s throne was blocked from view. I thought of Bilkis, Queen of Sheba, and for one tiny moment I considered going behind the screen and sitting on the throne myself. But my appetite for taking risks was dull that morning, so I went to sit on one of the spectators’ benches. I thought about the king pacing the stage as he interrogated witnesses. Would I be in his place, one month from now?
I felt many things about the undertaking I’d accepted. Anger at the king for putting me in this position. Guilt towards Amisi. Fear of failure—not just because of the disgust and outrage I felt at the thought of marrying Nathan, but also I had to admit to myself that I still wanted to impress my father with my abilities, and I would feel ashamed if I lost the wager.
Now I tried to put all those feelings aside and think logically. I made a mental list of the people I needed to talk to. Then I continued to turn the problem over in my mind, trying to tease out any aspects I might have overlooked. I had a strong urge to write my thoughts down, and I did have some papyrus left over from my census, but I decided to save it to record my findings as I progressed with the investigation. The lists I had so far were pitifully short and I could easily remember them.
I had a month for my investigation and that was a brief time. It made sense to start by talking to the two people most intimately involved: the king and Amisi. But I felt reluctant to see the king so soon after the meeting of the night before, and I decided I would let my emotions cool off so they wouldn’t cloud my assessment of him. The thought of interrogating Amisi also filled me with trepidation. So I decided to talk to Khepri first, because he knew so much about the women’s court, and because I liked and trusted him.
But Khepri was nowhere to be found. I looked for him in the servants’ dining hall, but he wasn’t among the diners. His little sewing room was silent and shuttered. I asked the guard outside the king’s chambers whether Khepri was within but he said he hadn’t been there since the early morning. I asked around the women’s court but no one had seen him. Finally I gave up and decided to go talk to Amisi after all. I entered the encampment and was girding myself to seek out Amisi, when I saw Khepri picking his way through the tents toward me. I was greatly relieved, both to find him and to be able to put off the interview with Amisi. When Khepri saw me, I thought I saw his expression darken, but a moment later it was again as smooth and bland as the paint on his face.
“Khepri, do you have a moment?”
“Do you never start a conversation with ‘good morning’, Abigail?”
Was he irritated or joking? He wasn’t smiling. He continued to walk toward the palace and I was forced to follow.
“I’m sorry, good morning. Or good afternoon, I suppose. Forgive me, Khepri, I need to speak with you again. You’ll understand why I’m a little distraught when I do.”
He was silent for such a long while that I actually thought he was going to refuse. Then he said, “Where?”
“Let’s go to my tent.”
Khepri turned and followed me back to my tent. Inside I sat on the bed and Khepri drew up a stool to sit beside me.
“Khepri, I know about Amisi and…and the king’s suspicions. He told me.”
Khepri kept his eyes cast down and I saw his lips press against each other but he said nothing.
“The king has asked me to look into the matter of her pregnancy. To investigate.”
Now Khepri’s black-rimmed eyes looked straight into mine and I was startled at the volume of his voice when he said, “Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve dredged up this trouble with your idle curiosity, without intruding further into the poor girl’s affairs?”
His face was so red that I could see its darkened hue through his face paint. I was astonished, and for a moment, angry that he would speak to me in such a manner. An instant later I was ashamed. He was saying nothing that I’d not thought myself. And if he allowed himself to criticize me, at least he was being honest, and I needed his honesty now more than a false approbation I didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry, Khepri. You’re right; it is my fault. And believe me, it wasn’t my idea to meddle further, but the king’s. If I hadn’t agreed, he’d have done it himself, and with a less open mind. I’d like nothing better than to prove Amisi innocent.”
“What does all this have to do with marrying Nathan? Isn’t that what you went to speak to him about?”
“Yes, but…I proposed a wager. I told the king to test me with a matter of judgment, and he agreed that if I succeed, I won’t have to marry Nathan.”
“I see. So you have a personal stake in hounding Amisi.”
“No! I mean, yes, I suppose so. It was the only thing I could think of. You yourself told me to avoid marrying Nathan at all costs. I just didn’t know that this would be the cost.”
Khepri was silent for a moment, shaking his head, then said, “You’re a child, Abigail, sticking your nose into adults’ affairs that you don’t understand. As a game, a way to pass the time because you’re bored. Who knows what terrible harm may come of this?”
“It may have started out as a game. But for good or ill, I became an adult the moment the king betrothed me to Nathan. Or I’m trying to. I’m trying to be responsible for my actions and I’ll work as hard as I can for the best possible outcome. Help me, Khepri, please. And help Amisi.”
Khepri took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“I know.” I was relieved to see that Khepri’s anger at me had eased. “And while we’re on the subject—can you tell me anything about, well…” It was my face that was red now. Could there be anyone less appropriate to discuss the king’s intimate relations than his own maiden daughter? I plowed on. “The king claims to remember exactly when he last spent a night with Amisi, nine and a half months ago. If it were anyone else, I’d dismiss this outright. As far as you know, does he keep any kind of record of…that sort of thing?”
“No, not that I know of. He keeps many records, but as you’ve probably noticed, he doesn’t feel his women are something that he needs to manage. If anything requires attention in the women’s court, it’s I myself or the Queen Mother who sees to it.”
“I don’t suppose you remember when the king last visited Amisi?”
“No. But I have no doubt Amisi is telling the truth. She’s the most honorable person I know. Even towards those who don’t deserve it.”
“You mean the king?”
Khepri shrugged and didn’t answer. Then he leaned toward me and spoke urgently.
“You must prove her innocence, Abigail. Whether you intended it or not, you have been given power. Use it wisely. And I’ll do anything I can to clear Amisi’s name.”
Before we parted, I asked Khepri to set a meeting with the king that very day. But he returned to me with the message that the king would only see me the following day, after his court session.
Late next morning I stationed myself behind the Hall of the Throne, where the king would be coming out the back door when court was over. I sat down under the olive tree and leaned against its gray-brown gnarled trunk. It was a good place from which to observe the day-to-day workings of palace life. Far off to my left I could see the stables, with brown, black and white horses’ heads looking over the stable doors. Beyond them was the horse run and the practice field, from which I could hear but not see Gideon shouting instructions at his trainees—I couldn’t tell what the lesson was about. To my right, also at some distance, I could see a servant drawing water from the palace well, one of the potters firing up the kiln, and two merchants walking from the back gate to the kitchen, one carrying a sack of grain and another wheeling a hand-cart filled with skins of what I guessed was wine. A servant woman staggered out of the kitchen carrying a large pot of dirty water, which she tipped onto the ground with a great splash. The two merchants exclaimed loudly, no doubt complaining that she had wet them, and she laughed. The three chatted a moment more before entering the kitchen together. There was something soothing about watching people go about the simple, necessary business of everyday life—cooking, eating, cleaning, crafting, learning, the same as yesterday and the same as tomorrow.