Flail of the Pharoah (17 page)

‘The annual festival of Opet is almost upon us,’ Mira explained. ‘It is a time of great feasting and joy, when the god proceeds from his temple here to his summer temple at Luxor. He travels in procession on the river, and is accompanied by scenes of music, feasting and merriment. We call it, “The Time of No Time” because the calendar is suspended for several days until the New Year begins.’

Charmian nodded, trying to look interested.

‘Naturally, the royal household is always on parade at such a momentous event,’ the queen continued. ‘The whole court travels in procession on the Nile, to accompany the god on his vacation. Amongst the crowd are many foreigners, and the Pharaoh likes to display his wealth and power, to convince them that the royal house of Egypt is the most magnificent on the face of the earth.’

Charmian’s eyes grew wide at the thought of such a spectacle. She knew how sumptuous the court was, and the idea of the entire household being shown off to the outside world was exciting. Normally only servants, visiting dignitaries, priests and trusted craftsmen were allowed to view the splendours of King Neshi’s palace.

The queen smiled, lifting an exquisite gold coronet from the pile beside her. ‘Naturally, the king also wishes to show off the beauty of his women to best advantage. I have been thinking about what you should wear, my dear, as you are to have pride of place amongst the ladies of the harem.’

‘M-me?’ Charmian stuttered, her pains temporarily forgotten. ‘B-but what have I done to deserve such honour, your highness?’

Mira gave a smile with more than a hint of the sardonic about it. ‘You don’t have to do anything, my dear, just be. It is your beauty that the Pharaoh wishes to honour, and in so doing he is honouring the gods who fashioned you, not you yourself. That is why we must ensure that, just as the statue of Amon is adorned with the finest robes and garlands, your body is displayed to its best effect. The king wants your breasts exposed, and your limbs showing beneath a transparent skirt. Of course you will wear some exquisite jewellery too – perhaps this?’ She held the coronet aloft. ‘And this?’ She picked up a heavy gold collar.

‘Your majesty, I don’t know what to say, I—’

‘Then say nothing,’ Mira said sharply. ‘You never have anything sensible to say, in any case. Just be grateful that you are to sit on a golden throne as if you were a queen, and be borne along on a litter on the shoulders of slaves, with the rest of the harem trailing along behind. That should make you popular with the other concubines.’

She gave a harsh, derisive laugh, but Charmian was still wondering at the honour to be done to her and the mockery scarcely registered.

‘Well, shall we dress you up in all this finery, just to see how it looks?’ Mira said, beckoning to Iras. ‘Stand up, girl, and take off your shift.’

Slowly, reluctantly Charmian got to her feet and drew her robe over her head. She was terrified that the queen would see the red weals still evident on her behind, and prayed she would not be required to turn around. When Iras hovered with the translucent gown she took it from her and stepped into it quickly, drawing it up to its correct position beneath her breasts. There was a drawstring, and Iras pulled it tight so that her breasts were displayed to good effect, the ivory skin topped with pink, erect nipples.

‘Good…’ Mira said approvingly. ‘Now the coronet and collar, Iras.’

The heavy ornaments were placed on her head and around her neck until Charmian really began to feel like a queen, and then jewelled sandals were slipped onto her feet. The finery made her momentarily forget the pain and humiliation she had suffered just a short time before. Already she was imagining lying in sedate repose on the ceremonial litter, being carried head-high through an admiring crowd…

‘Oh, I nearly forgot!’ Mira suddenly exclaimed, in the tone of studied casualness that Charmian had come to fear. ‘One more way to prettify your beautiful body, my dear. The king requires you to go bare-breasted, but such beauties deserve some special adornment, don’t you think? Here we are; two delightful pieces of gold and lapis lazuli, with earrings to match.’

She held up the four delicate trinkets. Iras took the earrings and carefully fastened them in the holes that had been made in Charmian’s ears when she was a little girl. But then the queen stepped forward, a cruel smile playing about her lips. Between her fingers she held two tiny ornate bosses attached to gold clips.

‘The only way to fasten them is to clip them on,’ she said, opening one up. Then she pinched Charmian’s nipple before letting the tiny jaws close over it. It felt as if some small, rapacious rodent had bitten her. The piercing torment made her squeal and her eyes began to water. Calmly, Mira fastened the second clamp to her other nipple and stood back with a nonchalant smile, admiring her handiwork.

‘I… I cannot possibly wear these, your majesty!’ Charmian protested as the pain assailed her, making her nipples throb with agony. She felt sick and dizzy.

‘Oh, but you must,’ the woman mocked, chuckling with satisfaction. ‘The Pharaoh himself demands it.’

Charmian was shocked. ‘He has ordered me to wear these?’

‘Not specifically, but he trusts my judgement in these things. I know exactly how he wants you to look in the procession, when you become queen of the harem. Don’t worry, you will get used to wearing them.’

Charmian doubted it. The pain was excruciating, and the thought of those cruel teeth biting into her through a long procession was horrifying. She would surely faint along the way. In fact, her mind had been completely diverted from the lesser pain in her buttocks.

‘All right, Iras, remove them for now,’ the queen commanded, and her servant moved with a hint of compassion in her expression and released her nipples from the torment. Charmian looked down at their red and swollen contours. A dull anger seized her and she looked daggers at the queen, who seemed oblivious to her seething.

‘Take off the rest of the finery and store it in my cupboard,’ she commanded her servant, and then evidently tiring of the game she dismissed Charmian with a condescending wave of her hand.

It was impossible to say which was harder to bear: her physical pain or the deep torment in her soul. As the girl walked slowly back along the corridor to the harem, she felt heady with anger and frustration. Her defenceless position in the palace was never more apparent to her than now. Royal mother and son had abused her equally, and she had no hope of justice or redress. What kind of a life could there be for her in this hellhole?

If only she had a friend – but who could she trust? The Pharaoh had been kind and just towards her, according to the strange laws of this land, but the queen had first claim upon him and Charmian knew she should not presume upon his loyalty to his new concubine, however smitten he might be by her exotic charms.

Only Kiya had shown her any kind of compassion, but she was unsure whether to confide in her. The girl seemed devious, and Charmian didn’t want to be drawn into any more trouble through associating with her too closely.

That left only Tut-Tut, the high priest, but there was something repellent and to be wary of about the man. He stored up secrets about others, like treasure, and they gave him power. But to what use would he put his arcane knowledge? Much as she longed for his spiritual guidance, Charmian feared him.

The harem was quiet when she entered, most of the women resting. Kiya had the bed next to hers, but seemed to be asleep. Charmian sought the semi-privacy of her bed, behind its little screen, but then was obliged to lie on her side because both her bottom and her breasts were too sore. What more must she endure? First there was the prospect of having to wear those cruel nipple clamps for the festival. Then, even when that ordeal was over, she would be at the mercy of Prince Neshi in future, forced to become his sexual slave with, it would appear, the complicity of his mother. How they must hate her, the pair of them.

But what was her crime? Only to be fair where they were dark, honest where they were devious, obedient where they were arrogant. Life was so unfair, and here in Egypt it seemed as though the cruel and powerful held sway over the considerate and meek. Sighing, Charmian laid her cheek against the soft pillow and prayed for oblivion from her woes.

But as soon as sleep came she was plunged into a nightmare scenario involving the dark god of the Egyptians, Anubis. She could see the jackal-headed figure, with its glinting slits for eyes, approaching her bed. She went rigid, as if bound and encased in a sarcophagus. She tried to move her limbs but they were paralysed.

Slowly, ominously, the god approached and she sensed rather than saw that he held a scourge. Charmian’s heart trembled at the thought of the punishment she must inevitably undergo and soon the harsh, barking tones of the dog god assailed her ears. ‘Thou hast sinned, wretch! Prepare to meet thy doom!’

Yet a small voice inside her dreaming head sounded a note of rebellion. How, she wanted to know, had she sinned? It seemed to her that she had been more sinned against than sinning, throughout her time in the land of the Pharaohs.

Anubis heard the cry from her heart and came closer, towering over the bed so he became an enormous black figure blocking out the light, his jackal’s ears giving the impression of a horned head. Charmian shuddered even though she lay immobile.

‘You have not yet submitted completely to the will of the Pharaoh and his queen. They are the mightiest rulers on this earth and yet you still believe yourself superior to them. Because you are of another race you do not fully acknowledge their might, or their right to do with you as they will. But I shall teach you, slave, to be obedient to the royal house of Egypt. Turn over, and feel the bite of my vengeful serpent upon your fundament.’

Despite herself Charmian rolled over stiffly and lay in terror, clenching her buttocks. She heard the whip whistle through the air and it seemed to strike her defenceless flesh as keenly as if she were experiencing it in reality. The soreness that had started to fade from her previous whipping was revived, and the cheeks of her bottom flamed hot and raw. Many times the severity of the blows made her wince and shudder as she lay, crying out in her half-sleep.

The imaginary presence of the god, and his severe punishment, made her feel utterly helpless and alone. This was a devilish master indeed, who knew no mercy. The blows continued until she thought she would perish in her sleep, for she still had a sense that this was a dream in the midst of it all. But would she ever awaken from this nightmare?

When the chastisement finally ended there was little relief, only a sense that her soul as well as her body had been violated. She had been reduced to nothing by the mighty will of the god, and her own wilful pride was broken. It was a matter of shame to her that she had not attempted to fight it, but instead allowed herself to be tamed like a wild foal that had lost its mother, and with her its spirit.

‘Now,’ boomed the canine voice, ‘perhaps you will become a more humble subject of the Pharaoh and his queen. Remember, if your soul rebels you will have me to face in future. I shall haunt your dreams, wretch, and if occasion demands my wrath shall fall upon you even more forcefully. Live in fear, slave, and mind your ways. The all-seeing Eye of Horus shall be my spy, and nothing shall escape my notice. Be warned!’

At that the god seemed to dissolve into the shadows, but Charmian was jerked awake and sat up sharply in her bed, dazed and shivering although the night was warm. The terror of it stayed with her even as she looked around at the dim, familiar surroundings of the harem.

Then she heard a voice coming from the bed nearby and she jumped, afraid that the god had returned and that this was some kind of waking dream. But it was only Kiya. The concubine had recovered from her ordeal at Neshi’s hands and, knowing through the palace grapevine that similar treatment had been meted out to Charmian, had grown quite friendly with her of late.

‘Were you having a nightmare?’ the Nubian girl asked. ‘You were crying out. It woke me.’

‘I’m sorry, yes, it was a strange dream,’ Charmian replied.

‘Will you tell the priest? He is good at interpreting dreams. You know that is how the gods speak to us, don’t you?’

‘It was a god in my dream: the dog-headed one, Anubis,’ she disclosed, but instantly regretted her indiscretion. In her sleepy state she had blurted it out, but perhaps it was not wise to be too forthcoming.

As she feared Kiya instantly grew curious. ‘Anubis? And what did his illustrious lordship want with you, I wonder?’

The note of sarcasm was not lost on Charmian, who answered circumspectly. ‘Oh, nothing really, I just saw his figure in the shadows. It startled me in my sleep, which is why I cried out, I suppose.’

It was obvious from Kiya’s expression that she didn’t believe her. ‘If I were you I’d report it to Tut-Tut,’ she advised. ‘You can’t afford to let an apparition like that go unreported. If the gods wish to send you a message and you ignore it, you could be in deep trouble.’

‘Maybe I will, then,’ said Charmian, although she had no intention of doing it. The Egyptian gods were not her gods. If they wanted to be superstitious about such things it was up to them, but she would not be drawn into it.

‘Are you looking forward to the festival?’ Kiya continued. She seemed wide-awake now and inclined to chat, even though Charmian’s eyelids were heavy.

‘Mm,’ she replied noncommittally, lying down again and hoping the other girl would take the hint that she preferred to sleep.