Shiri (29 page)

The shock of it froze her. She made to push him off but he seemed to be holding her so tight that she could barely move. It took her a moment or three to realise he wasn’t really holding her that firmly at all. It was her, she wasn’t stru
ggling, wasn’t pushing him away.
Why can’t I say no to him?
She felt herself returning the kiss, felt herself sigh softly into his mouth. It felt so right, felt like all she ever wanted. She felt herself pressing even harder against him, felt her lips open for him, felt the kiss grow deeper.
Why can’t I say no?
Before she knew it had happened she’d surrendered. Time itself seemed to slow down and the world faded around her until she could think of nothing but Josef – Josef and Shiri ...
Why … why can’t I turn from him? Why can’t I stop loving him?

And then almost as if looking on the scene from afar she saw herself pushing him away. Birds were singing once more, the babbling of the fountains and brooks in the
Water Gardens came rushing back to her ears, and a sudden flare of anger returned to her eyes. She saw herself slap him yet again.

He stepped back and finally held his hand to his cheek to inspect the damage. He hadn’t taken a beating like this sinc
e the blood-fields of Armegiddo.
A deal of punishment for just one kiss,
he grinned at the thought.
“Worth it,” he said aloud. That made her fume all the more, she almost went for him again but he raised his hands in capitulation. “Six moons … just promise me
you’ll
be careful.”

She nodded and he seemed to take some assurance from that. His eyes held hers a moment
longer and then he turned away. “Goodbye Shiri.” He made to cover the last few yards to Water Gardens to say goodbye to Tiye.

A
ll at once it hit her like a thunderbolt.
Josef’s leaving me, for the first time since Megiddo, Josef’s really properly leaving me.
She found herself running to catch up to him. She grabbed his arm and he spun round. And then she was in his arms, crushing her lips to his. His hands reached around her back, pulling her closer. Abruptly she pushed him off. She slapped him again. It was softer this time, much softer, barely a slap at all. He stepped back looking bemused. “You kiss me just so you can slap me
again
?”

She twisted
her lips, it was almost a smile. “Worth it,” she said.

IX

If she’d thought on it she’d have realised there’d been no letters from her mother. Her father made up for that. His letters were frequent and long. She deemed him a little overprotective and was quick to say as much, whenever she got around to replying, which she knew was not as often as he’d have liked.

Her bodyslave was ever annoying her about that, always looking for opportunities to say, “Perhaps you might find the time to reply today, m’lady,” or whatever. Worse, Solon had taught the Habiru how to recognise a few words, and whenever Tiye received a new message the slave would hover over her shoulder making attempts to read it. To Tiye’s amusement she’d even asked if she could make her own marks on some of her mistress’s replies; just a word here or there in an awkward spidery scrawl that would leave even the least learned younglings in the
White Palace shame faced, but the slave seemed infinitely proud of them.

Surprisingly, her father would always take the time to reply to those particular parts. He would even ask about her slave now and then: ‘
Is Shiri behaving herself? … be good to Shiri … tell Shiri Old Solon has been complaining that Yocobel lacks her touch about the gardens … don’t forget to give your bodyslave something nice on her name-day, it’s coming up soon,’
and so forth.
The Princess would laugh at those parts and point them out to the slave, “Father says Old Solon was asking for you …
again.
” She noticed her Habiru seemed to take such words to heart and would study them closely, crinkling her nose over those that were beyond her abilities. It was then that Tiye decided to make it her pet project to help Shiri learn her glyphs.

Her bodyslave was smart, for a Habiru, even her husband admitted as much. After just one moon the slave was even attempting to read out whole messages for her. The Habiru had been so pleased with herself, that for the briefest moment she’d actually slipped into talking airily of her youth, declaring that even the wisest greybeards in her village couldn’t do as much.

Tiye had always imagined she’d been born into slavery, but apparently that was not the case. Amenophis had almost spoiled it all. One day, Tiye had Shiri stand before the pair, and the slave proudly set about reading her father’s latest letter to them. Apparently Ay had been wed and named as heir to the ailing lord of Akhmin. Amenophis laughed so hard at the slave stuttering and stumbling her way through even the simplest lines that he almost fell off the couch. A sharp glance from Tiye had put an end to that but the damage was done, her bodyslave was crestfallen. It took her a week to convince the slave to take up the challenge again. A moon later she had her stand before Amenophis again. This time he did not laugh.

And now her husband even went so far as helping the slave with the odd word or two, ever mumbling about what his grandfather would say if he knew. Tiye smiled at him as he leaned in to help Shiri decipher the l
atest word that had stumped her. “Arson,” he’d said with a frown before taking the letter from her. “He says somebody attempted to burn the Sun Temple and hacked profanities and mockeries of the Jealous God into its walls.” He looked to Tiye. “And he says a Habiru lad was set upon in the streets. They cut off his fingers and toes and carved the name ‘
Amun
’ into his forehead.”

Tiye gasped and for an instant she saw Amran flash before her eyes. “That’s terrible!”

“You’re not wrong, the boy was a skilled stonecutter by all accounts, worth twenty debens at least I’d wager.”

“What was his name?”

Amenophis looked at her strangely. “Some Habiru thing no doubt, I can’t pronounce the half of them,” He shrugged tossing her the letter. “I fear your father brings these things on himself, my love, he begins to lose control of the situation. For years he’s been making it his business to give the Habiru ever more freedoms. It’s said that during the long drought the Habiru of Heliopolis ate better than half the peasants of the Lower Kingdom. And as far as this
Aton
of yours goes … well, he’s ever insulting the gods of old, ever denying the Hidden One his due. There was bound to be a backlash eventually.” He rolled his eyes. “You could have warned me before you named that little present I got you after him.”

Tiye gave him a mischievous look. “Yes, well, I was expecting something a bit bigger for my name-day.” She still couldn’t believe what he’d got her; it was as preposterous as it was magnificent.

“I’ll have to try harder for your next one,” he said. “Just let me know if you plan to pull a stunt like that again. You don’t need to be as boisterous in your faith as your father, not within hearing of Karnack at any rate.”

Tiye said nothing to that.
Father knows what he’s doing.

“The pair of you should journey to
Memphis and take matters in hand,” her slave ventured boldly. She seemed more than a little upset by the description of one of her kin. She’d taken the letter from her mistress’s grasp and was reading it again. “Lord Yuya says the Dreaming Pharaoh grows w…wea…” she sounded out the glyphs just like her mistress had taught her, “… weaker by the day. He b …bare … barely returns to the waking world at all anymore.” She looked to Amenophis. “You should go to him.”

Amenophis glanced in the Habiru’s directi
on before making a face at Tiye. “You see this is exactly the sort of thing I mean.” It was half a laugh. “He fills his slaves with fancies beyond their station. They speak out of turn and hold their heads too high.” He grinned conspiratorially at his wife. “Some even learn how to put their words on papyrus.” Tiye pouted at that and he drew closer, taking her into his arms. “It’s … it’s dangerous, is all. I just think he should ease off a bit...” He paused; she was looking at him strangely. She’d been acting strangely all week truth be told, giggling and whispering with her bodyslave no end. “Alright what is it? Is something wrong?”

She glanced at the slave then back to her husband, her eyes were b
right. She kissed him playfully. “No nothing’s … wrong.”

He narrowed his eyes, a serious look on his f
ace. He turned to her bodyslave. “What’s she so happy about?”

The slave smiled at the pair before offering the Prince a
dramatic curtsy. “I’m sure I don’t know, m’lord,” she shared an eloquent glance with Tiye before turning to busy herself, preparing her mistress’s outfit for the excursion. The Princess would be escorting her husband through the streets of Thebes and on to the great Temple of Karnack, where he’d be presiding over the ceremonies before
Sekhmet’s
high altar.

By rights, it should have been his first wife at his side on such an occasion but Amenophis had insisted on taking Tiye instead. Gilukhipa had actually come to their door demanding an explanation for his, “Trampling over the sacred traditions,” when she’d found out. Amenophis had advised her she could journey to
Memphis and perform the ceremonies there if she was so eager to worship the goddess.

Tiye felt her prince brushing a
hand lovingly through her hair. “That slave of yours speaks well enough when she has no leave, but keeps her silences when put to question,” he said. “What secrets are you two hiding from me?”

Tiye flicked her eyes to his.
“You’ve got a big day ahead, my love, you’ll have to concentrate. It would not do to have your mind elsewhere.” She kissed his cheek and brushed her lips against his ear, “I’ll tell you on the morrow.”

He made an impudent face.
“You’ll tell me now or I’ll let Old Amenhotep know that he can go to Karnack himself, while I stay here searching my wife for secrets.” He slid a roguish hand under her frock and drew a giggle. He inched his fingers higher, “Now then, where shall I start this search?”

She put a finger to his lips and an impish glance was enough to turn his words to kisses. “On the morrow,” she whispered into his mouth, “I’ll tell you on the morrow ... if you have not already guessed.”

X

‘The Festival of Drunkenness,’ that’s what they called it.
Statues of lion faced
Sekhmet,
goddess of fire, disease, and more importantly, wine, were carried aloft through the streets of the great city. Men wagered on who could do the goddess greatest honour by downing the most ale, women sang and danced in the squares, children supped on their first tankard of heady southland brew and Pharaoh brooded in his halls of gold.

He read the letter a second time. It had happened at last, the Dreamer had past into the world of shadows and dust,
small loss that was.
He shook his head again, “I don’t care if he’s of age damn you! I need no more Co-Regents; the last one was as useful as a dead man’s cock. Amenophis will take the Red Crown when I deem him ready, not before. Until then he will stay here in Thebes.” He took a breath. “He will stay and so will she.”

Papis gulped.
“As … as you say, Divinity, perhaps you have the right of it, the boy is over young.”

Amenhotep’s response was a grunt. Once again it was the young prince, or more accurately his stunning new wife that had stolen the show. They’d made an appearance before the gates of Karnack handing out fruity wine and heady ale from
Memphis, Tjaru and Akhmin to all comers. The city had come to a near standstill. He turned to the vizier, his voice almost a whine, “Why do they love her so?”

Papis, shifted from one foot to the other, looking increasingly apprehensive, Pharaoh was ever quick to anger when in his cups, “Well she … she talks to them you see,
she goes down amongst them and...”

“Talks to whom, the priests, the high lords?” Pharaoh sipped a proffered cup of Memphite Red before waving it aside in favour of an outland white of rare vintage.

His
ghaffir
took over from the vizier. “No, no, the commoners and peasants, street urchins and fishwives, she talks to them all … she asks them questions.” Papis put a cloth to his nose when Narmer decided to annotate his words with a belch.

“Questions?”

“Oh aye, questions!” The Companion was drunk, slurring his words, struggling to focus his eyes, but as ever he was talkative with drink in hand, “You should have seen her today.” He made to imitate the Princess’s voice, “How long have you lived in the harbour district? Are the fish biting? Is your wife well?”

He called for more wine and took the carafe from the serving girl before pulling her to him and sitting her on his knee. His hand wandered idly under her skirts, “And gods, you should have seen the way this pockmarked wench, with a mewling infant in her arms, beamed when the Princess paused to cluck over the thing and tell the wretch her babe was the prettiest she’d ever come across. The whole business was unseemly if you must have the truth of it, and as for the crowds, gods be good, the crowds, they thronged and flocked about her like locusts, and the whole time barely a one looked to their Prince, and him wearing the jewels of state and all! Not that the boy seemed to care mind you
– he was looking at her too!” He shifted in his seat as he broke wind surprisingly loudly and took a long swig from his carafe.

The girl squirmed a little, so he brought the carafe to her lips and made her drink until she gagged. The wine dribbled and spilled all over the pair of th
em but he didn’t seem to notice. “And of course our Tiye wouldn’t allow the Companions to clear a path, so it only got worse as they neared Karnack. The whole procession was forced to stop while she exchanged courtesies with whores and street players alike. She bought some lacy shawl off an old crone with teeth brown as mud and paid twice what it was worth. She told the woman it was the finest embroidery she’d seen, and asked if she’d like a position amongst the weavers of the White Palace.”

Narmer paused to take another hefty
swig and then he was off again. “And strike me down if I tell it false, but the crone broke into tears there and then and insisted on kissing the Princess’s feet and blessing her before all the gods she could name. And then, before the gates of Karnack itself, and now I didn’t see this much myself mind you, but plenty others did by all accounts, the Princess went and kissed some ancient spice merchant on the cheek!” He laughed and a little wine snorted out his nose. “I’d wager the old bastard will still be boasting of that ten years hence.”

Pharaoh frowned.
She gifts street peddlers kisses but won’t offer me so much as a favoured glance.
An irritated gesture
silenced the
ghaffir
. It was ever the same,
crowds following her wherever she went
. Folk would call out her
name as the royals toured the city. Women would approach
her
on bended knee asking
her
to bless their newborn babes. Men would grovel in the earth at
her
feet and thank
her
for bringing the flood; her, always her.
Did it start like this for the Slut Queen?
And as for the boy, well, he just made things worse.

Tales of how the Prince had commissioned a mighty new ship and presented it to her as a present for her sixteenth name-day had already spread as far as Memphis. Beggars and merchants alike journeyed to the far corners of the Two Lands and told how the Beautiful One’s smile had lit up the docks when she named the vessel. Named it for some strange god few of them had heard of. Amenhotep rolled the wine about his mouth,
‘Aton Glimmers.’
The girl’s ship was the largest in all the Two Lands. It dwarfed the dead Co-Regent’s ‘Hammer of
Ptah
’ and was fully twelve yards longer than his ‘Megiddo.’ The boy had made sure of that.
A deliberate affront.

Once, from the very walls of the
White Palace, he had heard the throngs chanting her name as she toured the
Osiris
wells with her husband.
Near a mile distant and I could still hear the chanting.
Queen of Beauty, Queen of Love, Queen of Thebes, they called her.
My wives have no names, Amenophis’s has a hundred.
She had conquered Thebes and as far as he could tell she hadn’t even been trying. He gulped back his wine, it tasted rich and fruity. “Are the plans in motion?” he asked quietly. Narmer booted his girl away and attempted to stand so he could bring lips to Pharaoh’s ear, but encountering difficulties of balance, returned to his seat. Amenhotep grinned,
he’s drunk,
everybody was drunk,
Sekhmet
demanded as much.

“Aye,” Narmer slurred.
“All was explained to them by the priests of Karnack. The only women allowed within the temple are those promised to the Hidden One. The boy will be stuck there for hours yet while the girl…” he glanced in her direction, she was seated at the far end of the court, as far away from them as possible. He saw her laugh as she explained something to her bodyslave, a green crystal goblet in hand. She didn’t appear to be drinking from it. Even as he was looking at her she rose, said a few quick words to those about her and departed for her chambers. “What do you mean to do to her?”

Pharaoh looked at him strangely.
You know what I mean to do, Narmer.
I mean to fuck her.
He emptied his drink, and wiped a little excess from his lips. It was heady stuff, but it went down increasingly easy the more you had.
I mean to put her in her place. I mean to humiliate her. I mean to make her kneel.
He gestured for more of the same and broke into a smile, “I mean to show her what it is to have the love of a god.”

Papis opened his eyes. He’d been standing so still and silent by Pharaoh’s side that Amenhotep had forgotten the vizier was there, “She might not go to your bed as easily as the others,” he advised, “She thinks herself above bowing to your commands.”

Pharaoh shrugged. “Yes, well, ‘twill go harder on her if she comes into stubbornness.”

“The girl is popular, the people love he
r. They may whisper against you…”

“What of it?”

Narmer added his voice to the vizier’s, “Amenophis … if he finds out he’ll…” The words petered out.

The drink was taking its toll. Pharaoh smiled at that,
just like half the palace.
Thanks to Sekhmet nobody will ever even know I had her.
“He’ll what? Sulk? Throw his toys around?” A servant filled Pharaoh’s goblet and he took a quick swig before rising, “I’ve had enough of this. Three moons I’ve had to put up with her pouting those lips and wiggling that arse in front of me. It’s not by chance she wears low cropped sheaths and perfumed lotus oil whenever I’m near. She’s asking for it. Oh, she makes pretence towards innocence true enough, but she knows what she’s doing. She wants me.”

He swayed a little; he’d had a
deal to drink himself it seemed. “She grows prouder and haughtier than any woman has a right to be,” he continued. “They name her, ‘Queen of Beauty, Queen of Thebes!’ … Queen! I’ll not have that.” He downed the wine and threw the goblet away, “I’ll not have it I say! She needs to learn her place. Mark me if she doesn’t, you’ll see the Two Lands fall under the sway of a second slut queen.”

“Aye, may
haps … you have the right of it,” Narmer said. “I trust not this new god of hers...” He belched again and managed to find Pharaoh’s eye, the Godking was looking at him with a jaded expression. “I hear tell that she insists Amenophis worships no idols in their bedchambers. None save her own sweet body that is.”

“
Insists is it?” Pharaoh frowned. “Aye, it’s as I feared then, the boy is weak.” He placed a hand on his
ghaffir’s
shoulder. “I just mean to teach the girl her proper place, no more than that. Once she has learned some humility and withdraws from the limelight the Two Lands will be better off.”

“Aye, along with your cock.”

Amenhotep laughed, slapping the man on the back. Narmer bent forward and all at once he was vomiting over his sandals. Pharaoh shrugged.
Aye,
drunk … no matter, I don’t need a ghaffir for this.
He grabbed a tankard of frothy ale, paused, exchanged it for a carafe of Memphite Red and left for the royal chambers.
Nobody followed him.

The royal apartments were completely deserted, well almost. He saw the Princess’s
ghaffirs
standing before her door. They looked very bored, and very sober. They stood to attention as Pharaoh drew near. The Godking paused beside the first one, “Akil isn’t it?”
Father always said you should learn their names.

The man’s eyes widened.
“If it pleases you, Divinity.”

“He turned to the other one and?”

“Jafar.” The man said with a salute.

He turned back to Akil.
“You served my father at Megiddo.”

“It wa
s my life’s honour, Divinity, I...” he paused.

Pharaoh smiled. “You may speak freely, Akil, we’re all friends here.”

“I miss it sometimes.”

Pharaoh nodded. “The long march to places unknown? The camaraderie, the wild barbarian women, the glory! Aye, I miss the old times too, my friend
– we were men then.” He placed a hand about the
ghaffir’s
shoulder, “You’re like me, Akil, an old soldier dragged from his natural haunt by events beyond his control.” He raised the carafe towards his lips before pausing, “You have a thirst?”

The
ghaffir
grinned as Pharaoh revealed an earthenware mug from under his robes and filled it for him, “Aye, I remember you well. You worked with Old Solon did you not? We’re good friends Solon and I.” He handed him the mug. The
ghaffir
took it gratefully and downed it in one go. Pharaoh smiled and poured him another. “A hero of Megiddo stuck here guarding women from shadows and phantoms when the rest of the city makes merry and celebrates
Sekhmet’s
gift – a crime.” He shook his head, “Tell you what, how about you go join them? My man Narmer will be along shortly, there’s no need for you to miss out. Away with you lad, enjoy yourself and drink to times past and sweet barbarian wenches.”

The man hesitated.
“My mistress … she…”

Pharaoh drew back a little. “Away I say!” He laughed again. “I’m sure the woman will survive one night without a man at her door. And
you...” he glanced to Jafar, “the daughter of old General Thauney is alone in her chambers with orders to service the first man to knock on her door.” He winked, “she’s highly skilled is that one and she’ll be at pains to follow your every command … I made sure of that.”

The man looked confused.
“But…”

Pharaoh growled, growing a little irritated. “Gods, do I need to write ye out instructions? Away with ye!”

The men bowed quickly, broad smiles on their lips. “You’re too kind, Divinity, may
Sekhmet
bless…”

“None of that, none of that, away with ye, away, before I change my mind!”

The pair bowed and saluted in one before marching quickly away. Before they’d left the hall they’d all but broken into a run. Pharaoh smiled.
A princess should be more selective in her choice of guards.
He felt a thrill course through his body, a sweet ecstasy of anticipation the like of which he’d not felt in years,
She’s there, there at the other side of the door, waiting.
He moved forward. He entered silent as a panther stalking its prey.