Authors: Pauline Gedge
The path took a sharp angle, and all at once I was facing an even wider thoroughfare lined on my side with palm trees. On the other side a row of great columns reared, holding up the massive stone roof of Pharaoh’s office. Shadows moved beyond them and a fully armed soldier stood guard at each of their feet. As I hesitated, hidden by shrubbery, a scribe laden with scrolls hurried out and disappeared in the direction of the banqueting hall.
Quickly I shed the cloak, folding it and laying it down at the foot of one of the palms. Smoothing my silver-plaited wig and pausing to slip on the sandals that I had carried for fear their white leather and gem-studded thongs would attract attention, I stepped boldly out. If Ramses was not attending to administrative business today I was doomed, but I prayed fervently as I approached the soldiers that he was following his usual daily routine and would be seated behind his desk, holding audience with his ministers. Deliberately I looked straight ahead, moving with a self-confidence I did not feel. One of the guards made as if to detain me. His spear wavered. Nonchalantly I smiled at him, spoke a greeting, and sailed between the columns and into the welcome coolness of the room beyond.
It was full of men. Four scribes sat cross-legged on the floor, knee to knee, pens poised over their palettes. A white-clad minister leaned against the wall, arms folded, and another stood beside him. Two more flanked the desk, and before it, blocking my view, I recognized the imposing figure of the Overseer of the City, the Vizier To. The gossamer linen that hugged his body from armpits to ankles was hemmed and fringed in gold, and gold gripped his upper arms and encircled his shoulder-length wig. As I approached he was speaking earnestly, one hennaed palm extended.
“… and he is at least proving to be honest, Majesty. I would not have recommended him otherwise. We must look elsewhere for the reasons. I suspect embezzlement of grain, not careless accounting, but I cannot be sure until …” His voice trailed away as he sensed that he no longer held the attention of the others. Turning, he saw me, and his action brought the King into view.
Ramses was slumped loosely in his chair, his helmeted head resting against one hand. I could tell immediately by the glazed look in his kohled eyes and the set of his jaw that he was bored. His other hand was engaged in playing with the heavy pectoral resting on his chest. Somewhat uncertainly, the men bowed to me. Vizier To moved away from the desk and I came to a halt before Ramses, lowering myself into a deep obeisance.
It was some time before I heard a strangled, “Rise!” and I came to my feet. His eyes were no longer glazed and he had stiffened, sitting forward. The look he gave me was furious. “I have already refused you an audience, Lady Thu,” he snapped. “How you managed to find your way in here without being accosted is beyond my comprehension and I will speak to the Captain of the Palace Guard about the laxness of his men. I am far too busy to hear your complaint. Take it to Amunnakht. Begone!” I stood my ground, heart pounding, and strove to meet his eyes, painfully aware of the ministers frozen on the periphery of my vision. I had assumed that the moment he saw me Ramses would dismiss all others from the room and angry or not, would hear me out. Then I could have freely had my say, wheedled and coaxed, pouted and cried, moved close to put my hands on him in the ways I knew he could not resist, but what could I do with such an audience? He could not soften in the presence of his ministers and I could not seduce him. As I searched his face I realized that he would not dismiss them because he needed their silent authority to buttress his, and to prevent me from making him appear at fault. Very well, I thought. I cannot shed my clothes and wrap myself around him, but I have nothing to lose by speaking my mind, and that I will do.
“You did not come to see your son, Great Horus,” I said. “You did not come to visit me, the woman you professed to love. I hurt. I am sad, and lonely for you. You severed the link between us without warning and you refused to grant me a moment in your august presence. I am bereft.” He puffed out his hennaed lips.
“If I went into the harem every time one of my concubines gave birth or desired my body I would be too busy to see to more important matters,” he replied testily. “You forget your place, Lady Thu. You are not a wife. Your rights are the limited prerogatives of a harem inmate. According to the clauses of the contract your father signed, I owe you shelter, food, clothing and such other creature comforts as you need. Nothing else. You have been treated with exemplary affection by your King and I fear it has gone to your head. I understand your distress, and therefore I will not have you disciplined. You are dismissed.”
I stared at him reflectively. If I tried to goad him with the secrets of his bed in front of his nobles he would have me dragged away at once. I was finding it difficult to equate this brisk, impersonal man with the Pharaoh who had sat me on his knee and tickled me, fitted himself around my back and buried his hand in my hair as we fell asleep together, murmured feverish words of lust in my ear as the lamps guttered. You old hypocrite, I thought with distaste. How did it happen that I almost loved you? It is over. Everything is gone. I can see now that you will never take me back. I have already receded into the murky history of the harem, one star that streaked across your sky and then faded, unremarked.
“I think that I have fulfilled the duties of a concubine with wholly laudable skill,” I retorted coolly, and was rewarded by the sudden flush that stained his cheeks. “After all, that was the other side of the bargain the contract represented, was it not, Mighty Bull? And you recognized the uniquely satisfying quality of my services by bestowing a title and a small estate on me.” Careful, I told myself. Do not go too far. “It is clear that Your Majesty wishes nothing more to do with me now that I have done you the supreme honour of producing a royal son,” I went on, “but I do feel that my achievement deserves greater acknowledgement than a golden bauble studded with moonstones. Don’t you?” He was sitting upright now, breathing heavily, his spine rigid, both clenched fists jammed against the surface of his desk.
“I can have you whipped for that!” he shouted. “How dare you address me in this fashion? Who do you think you are?” I stepped right to the desk until I felt my thighs press against its edge.
“I am your little scorpion, Ramses,” I said in a low voice. “Did you expect me to scuttle under the nearest rock when you tried to crush me? I have loved you, I have tended your wounds, I have shared your innermost thoughts. Now you kick me aside like so much rubbish. You know me, Pharaoh. How can I help but sting?”
It was a good speech, I thought, and it was having its impact. The King’s mouth was pursed and he was glaring at me, but one hand had relaxed and was trembling slightly. I was not sure, in the moment before he responded, how much of what I had said was the true anguish of lost trust and affection and how much a calculated effort to force guilt upon him. I did not want to know. I waited tensely, my eyes locked with his, and in the end it was he who lowered his gaze.
“What do you want?” he asked quietly. I leaned towards him.
“I want to return to your bed,” I said urgently. “I want to be again the companion for whom you pine!”
“That is not possible.” He folded his arms. “I no longer desire you in my bed. If you love me as you say you do, then tend to my child. He is, after all, the proof that your King once chose you above all others in whom to plant his divine seed, and such a great honour should afford you much dignity among the other women.”
“Dignity!” I rejoined indignantly. “There are dozens of harem women who have borne you sons and daughters! Such dignity is as common as dirt!”
Behind me in the room there was a murmur of consternation. I bit my lip. In the heat of our argument I had forgotten the men listening avidly to my denunciations and so, I think, had Pharaoh. Bowing, I lifted my hands in the universal gesture of apology and supplication. “My King,” I pleaded softly, “forgive my angry words. They spring from an aching heart. If Your Majesty no longer requires my services as your concubine, then give me leave to retire to my estate in the Fayum. Let me go and see to my land and my crops, so that I may try to replace the satisfactions of your bed with the peaceful embrace of a less intoxicating lover.” He looked startled, then he frowned.
“You would run away from your son? No!”
“I could take him with me,” I said eagerly. “You would not need to worry about his education, Majesty. I would hire a tutor for him. And as for my fidelity to you, you could send as many guards with me as you wished, to make certain that I did not behave indecorously.” I clasped my hands. “You do not need me any more. I am of no use to anyone but my child. Let me go! The Fayum is not far. You could recall me at any time. Please, Majesty!”
He looked at me speculatively for a long time, his expression closed, while I tried not to betray my deep agitation, then he pushed himself away from the desk and rose.
“You are a prideful and bitter child, Thu,” he said at last, “and your fantasies are indeed those of the desert scorpion, venomous and unfathomable. You have stung me many times, and sometimes the pain was a delight, sometimes an adventure. But now you have been foolish enough to wield your barb in the presence of my ministers. That is unforgivable. Therefore you will be held to the terms of your contract with the Double Crown, and you may count yourself fortunate that I do not have you beaten and imprisoned for your supreme insolence. Your request is denied.” Suddenly I needed the desk to keep myself upright. I clung to it desperately.
“Please, Ramses,” I choked. “Please. You do not know what it is like to be surrounded by women and children every day, to be unable to escape that noisy chaos, to have lost any purpose in life, to dress and paint for no one but yourself! I am afraid of the harem. It will pull me into its suffocating embrace and I will disappear. Forgive me if I have offended you, and show your mercy, I beg! Do not condemn me to such a fate! Let me go, Ramses! Let me go!” His face was now a mask of disapproval, and even before I had finished speaking he was looking past me and snapping his fingers. I whirled about. A burly guard was approaching purposefully. “Oh, Ramses, no!” I cried out in despair. “For the love you once bore me, have pity!” But he had already seated himself again and was signalling curtly to the Vizier.
“Continue, To,” he said brusquely. The men in the room loosened and turned their attention back to the business I had so abruptly interrupted. To cleared his throat. The scribes picked up their reed pens. No one was looking at me as the guard firmly grasped my arm and I was marched between the columns and out into the sunshine. Once on the path I shook myself free.
“I know my way back to my quarters without an escort,” I said haughtily. “Unless of course you were ordered to take me to my door and lock me in.” He hesitated then bowed and turned on his heel and I recrossed the paving, found Disenk’s cloak where I had left it, and arranging it over my arm I began to walk back the way I had come.
I was in a state of shock. The scene in Pharaoh’s office was still a confusion of jumbled words and feelings in my mind but I knew that before long the whole nasty exchange would arrange itself into a memory that would burn and haunt me for ever. I found myself on grass and realized that I had been lurching along the path like a drunkard. I was light-headed and weak. Carefully I kept my eyes on my sandalled feet, the leather glaringly white against the beige flagstones, the pretty gems sparkling as I moved.
A shadow formed ahead of me, and glancing up I saw that I was now level with Amunnakht’s office and the Keeper himself stood outside it in conversation with a scribe. They broke off and bowed as I approached, and Amunnakht shot me a puzzled glance. I went right up to him.
“I would like to visit my mentor, the Seer,” I said, amazed that my voice could be so even and natural. “Have I your permission, Keeper?” The request had been unpremeditated, an instinctive need to run to the one place where I could re-establish my wholeness. Amunnakht looked along the path the way I had come, then back to me. “Yes, I have been in the palace without your leave,” I said impatiently, “and Pharaoh has reprimanded me severely. I promise I will not do it again, and I hope that my rash action will not bring a similar tongue-lashing to you, Amunnakht, for not keeping a closer watch on your charges. I expect you will want to consult with him about my request but I doubt if he will object. He will see visiting Hui as a lesser evil.” I managed a wry smile. The Keeper looked mystified.
“You have my permission subject to that of the King, Lady Thu,” he answered. “I will approach him with the matter as soon as he has finished the ministerial business of the day.” I did not wait for more but nodded and immediately went on my way. The interview with Ramses was beginning to coalesce into a progression of knife-sharp images and I did not want to feel their cuts until I was able to cry in the privacy of my own cell.
I spent the afternoon on my couch with my baby cradled fiercely in my arms, sobbing out my humiliation, but towards sunset Amunnakht sent word that the King would allow me to visit Hui if I was escorted by a harem guard. To make sure I do not run away, I thought grimly as I laid Pentauru in the basket that was rapidly becoming too small for him, and ordered Disenk to repair my face paint.
While she valiantly attempted to disguise my swollen eyes and reddened nose I stared at my unprepossessing reflection in the copper mirror and picked at the cold goose and raw celery on the table beside me. The fate to which the King had so spitefully condemned me was utterly unacceptable and something must be done, but what? Hui would know. Hui cared about me, even if Pharaoh did not. He would suggest something clever. Surely there was no problem without a solution.
So I tried to cheer and strengthen myself as Disenk’s cool hands moved over my skin, but my brave thoughts were no more than the shreds of a cold comfort and I had to struggle to stop my tears from flowing once more as I bent to kiss my sleeping son and went out alone into the warm red evening.